A/N: Sorry about the error in height in the first chapter; honestly, in the series, it always seemed like Kirk was just a bit taller then McCoy. Apparently I was wrong. .

I'm actually a little surprised we all managed to fall asleep. It's disorienting when I wake; the first thing I'm aware of is warmth. Incredible, almost stifling warmth. My eyes flutter open as my next realization is how difficult it is to breath; panic floods my system, instinctive adrenaline rush as I begin to struggle, desperate to get away from this new danger.

Then a low rumble above my head reminds me where I am and what I'm leaning on. I relax, slowly, as momma brings her massive snout down to wuff at my hair gently. "I'm clean." I grouse, pushing it away. "Trust me, I'm clean!"

"That's a statement that could be taken a few different ways, isn't it?" Sleepy baritone from somewhere to my right.

"Har har." I mutter, half-turning to look at Jim where he is curled against her side. Spock is just the other side of him, but he's upright on his knees, staring intently at the lady's side. I push up, and she lets me, unhooking her powerful leg from my middle. The cold hits instantly, and I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself. Jim looks from one of us to the other, and then sits up, too, huffing when the cold slams into him. He swears, rubbing his arms vigorously. "Spock, what's the matter?"

"I believe-" Spock pauses, head tilted slightly. "I am not doctor, Captain, but I believe our shelter has gone into labor."

I blink. For one, that was humor. Dry, sarcastic humor, but not the first time I've heard it from him. For two- excuse me, what?

"What?" I snap, echoing myself without really meaning to. But it's the only thing in my head at that moment.

"I said, 'I believe-'"

"I know what you said, damn it." I growl. He's doing that on purpose. He usually does, and don't let him tell you otherwise. I can count on one hand the number of times a misunderstanding has been an honest misunderstanding.

Jim has climbed to his feet now, forgotten about the low ceiling, and there is a dull thwack as his skull impacts. He yelps, ducking instantly, one hand on the top of his head. "Low bridge." He mutters. I roll my eyes.

"It's your head you hit, you'll be fine." I snap, and he does a double take. He fights back a smile, trying hard to look irritated.

"Don't you have another patient to tend to, then, if I'm so alright?"

"I never said you were 'alright', I said you'd be 'fine'. You haven't been 'alright' since I've known you. And she's a giant badger-" Not really, but close enough- "Jim, intelligent or not she's got an animal's body and I'm not a vet." But I half-crouch and head over to where he is. I want to make sure he and Spock are managing alright and I'm curious to see if Spock's correct. Jim's already dropped his hand by the time I get there but I touch the top of his skull gently anyway. Goose egg, not surprising. I drop my hands and scoot up closer to our lady friend, where Spock is crouched.

I reach out, touching, feeling- she doesn't seem to mind, mostly ignoring me. After a minute of palpitating her, I turn my attention away back to Spock under the pretense of being thoughtful. If he knew I was worrying over him again, he'd only close up hard.

I see no trembling, at the moment, his graceful, long fingered hands still and steady as he crouches near her. Christine once confided in me that those were one of her favorite features on him. His hands, she said, are beautiful. And I can't say they aren't. He's got artist's hands, or musician's hands.

"I think you're right." I tell him after a moment, and sure enough, to confirm it, her side ripples convulsively, and she rumbles again, just as she had when I woke. "Gentleman, we are about to become uncles."

Spock lifts his head, and Lord help me, I don't know if he's heckling me or perfectly serious when he says, "Doctor, I do not believe any of us are related in any way to this creature."

Either way, it makes Jim laugh so hard he hits his head again.

"Low bridge." I remind him dryly, as he grips his second lump with both hands and moans softly, still half-laughing. My lips are twitching, but for some stupid reason I'm fighting the grin; I finally let it out, shaking my head helplessly. Like I said before, I'm glad to hear laughter. A while ago, before we'd gone to sleep, Jim had been deep someplace else, someplace unpleasant. I almost never see that look on his face- shadowed, clouded. Jim was made for laughter and teasing, and to see him wandering lost in some dark place in his mind he almost never gives us access to is unsettling at best. He straightens up, laughter still glittering in his eyes.

"Either way, I think we're more nurses right now then uncles." He says, glancing over to our fire, long gone out. We have no way of building it back up, but with her in here with us, it's bearable. Our body heat is enough unless she leaves. Then he lifts his eyes to the cave mouth, considering. Leave now, or wait? Would it even matter?

I hope he waits. The longer we can gather strength the better, because that is going to be one monster of a hike.

He turns back after a moment, leaning back on his hands. "How long do you think?"

I just told him I wasn't a vet. And I know nothing about this species, even if I was. But I can still estimate, and I do; I'd assume she's within an hour of giving birth.

"I think we're all about to find out how giant alien badgers give birth." I say, grimly hoping she can't understand and take offense to my comment.

"Badgerzillas?" Jim asks from my side, and I feel a blush burn on my cheeks.

"….a real comedian tonight, aren't you?"

"Her race is called the Tejjion, Captain." I don't know when the hell I got into the habit of flinching every time Spock speaks. I assume the bad-the Tejjion had told him that, when he'd spoken to her before. Maybe had only told him just now, I don't know how that entire mess works and I have absolutely no desire to.

Well. I know a little. I know more then I ever wanted to, and remembering the invasive touch of the Other Spock makes me shiver. He could have easily, I realized, destroyed me. It hadn't hurt; I'd been surprised, to be honest; he hadn't pried through anything but what he needed, and that was right at the front of my mind, anyway. He'd simply opened a window; not kicked in a door.

But the sheer helplessness of the situation was terrifying. The swell of a foreign presence, in my head, in my mind, of some other being's feelings and thoughts overlapping with my own by force, without permission, without acceptance, and all the time pinned by a man twice as strong as myself, completely at his mercy.

I shudder and shove the memory away. That had not been Spock, not our Spock; and really, it hadn't hurt. He hadn't done anything to me. It hadn't felt anything but invasive, and had made me feel….very helpless.

And I understand much better now why Spock was reluctant to make that connection with another living being the day I asked him too so long ago. Why he still hesitates at having to do that, sometimes.

I shake my head, refusing to dwell on it. I have more important things to worry about then my mental health- after all, I'm the only mostly-sane one of out Jim's three brains, and that's good enough for me.

"-ones. Bones!"

I swivel, blinking as Jim gives me a shove. At first I think he pushed me only to get my attention; then I realize he's staggering with me, deliberately pushing me further left.

Pushing me out of the way.

I'd gotten lost in thought; I hadn't been paying attention. I should have known better; there was no excuse, near a creature this size entering labor. But I had stopped paying attention, and that tail-

There's the crack of bone breaking, first. If you've never heard bone snap, don't go rushing to do it. I guess it's a subconscious reaction, but you know instantly what it is, even if you're not a doctor. Some part of you just knows. And your stomach jumps and twists about fifteen times midair before settling down again, and your heart races wildly. It's harsh and crisp in my ears, and then comes Jim's voice raised in a pained yell.

I've heard the sound many, many times. And I never get used to it, and I never will. He crumples to the ground at my feet, swearing a blue streak through gritted teeth with his arm clutched to his middle.

If he can curse, he's fine. If he can curse he can breathe which means he's just got his arm broken which means he's okay he's okay, calm down, you can fix this, you know what to do.

I allow myself a moment- just a moment- of sickening panic. Jim's just broken his arm. There is nothing I can do but possibly, crudely, set it, splint it if I can find something to do so with. I lost most of my supplies running from the spiderzillas. The foliage, the hills- I'd tripped. We'd all tripped, but when I had I'd watched in horror as the medical kit had popped open and spilled out. Spock's quick reflexes had saved some of it, and my own some more, but-

Then I push the panic away, down, away. Push it to the back of my mind and lock it up tight.

Spock has his hands on her massive head, his eyes closed and head bowed, and she's gone all still again. To late for Jim, but at least she's not clobbering us again. I pause, only a moment, torn between my friend that's hurt and my friend that could be in danger, but Jim's soft, breathy moan ends my battle. I drop to my knees next to him.

"Damn it, Jim, of all the stupid-" I snarl, reaching out to jerk his shoulders back. "Let me see how bad. Jim, let me see." I have to say it twice, harsher the second, because shock and instinct has him doubled over protectively and he won't relax. I don't spare a thought to the way I speak to him. He's my Captain when he has to be, but he's my friend first, and that's how it will always be in my mind. And my friend just did something monumentally stupid.

As usual.

Just as he has snapped at Spock, yelling would have gotten me out of the way just as easily as diving in like some self-sacrificial fool. I heard his second warning, probably would have moved in time. Probably.

Damn it.

"Me?" He pants out, lifting his gaze and trying a smile. "I think I just saved you some broken ribs, B-Bones."

"And got a broken arm for your trouble."

Spock slips around, appears by my side. "She has calmed down considerably. She was merely distressed, and did not intend harm."

Is he defending the badg-Tejjion? I lift a brow at him, amused, surprised.

"I know, Spock, I know." I mutter, distractedly; I'm only hearing him with half my mind. The other half is already in full surgeon mode; tricorder still at my side, still functional, running it up and down his arm. Hands at the small black bag at my waist- Jim hisses with pain as I tug accidentally. Frankly, I don't care.

The medical devices I have at my beck and call are extensive and incredible. Things I never imagined myself becoming familiar with, things that can make healing and diagnosing easier then I ever could hope.

Nothing but time and proper medical care will fix a broken bone.

"All I can do is make a splint, or a sling." I say after a minute, my tone crisp with irritation and anger. "Damn it, Jim, you shouldn't have-"

He is pale with pain, panting softly, sweating and I am only glad he's not in shock by this point. "If she had hit you she would have cleaved you in half." He lowers his head to his knees, but he's not fading; I recognize the gesture, have seen it and many like it before from him. He's gathering himself, shoving the pain to the back of his mind the way I shoved back the panic.

Then Spock speaks again, low; "Doctor? Perhaps this will be useful." And he hands me his shirt. Or what remains of his shirt. He's torn it just enough to that I can rip and manipulate it into a sling.

What do you know? Sometimes that half-breed pain can be useful after all.