Seriously, SO MANY B-DAYS! Today is Lady Talla-Doe's, also known as Sanzy, or as I like to call her, the Queen of Smut (yes that's right)! On the 15th (OMG BEST DAY TO HAVE BEEN BORN OR WHAT?) was bookworm-4-ever2012's B-day!

And finally, Happy (slightly belated) K/S day to all! I hope you had a great slashy time! :D

Chapter Seven: Obscuris Vera Involvens

He had about an hour before meeting Sulu and Bones for lunch.

Wandering along the corridor brought him to a turbolift, and Jim decided it was time to check out that famous science department everyone seemed so excited about, even though it had mostly sounded to him like the technical jargon could be translated to 'observing plants grow' (from the longer version 'watching how the plants grow and then writing it down').

He directed the lift to Deck 6, leaning against the circular interior with a mournful sigh that would never have happened in public. He missed his ship. He missed being in command and he missed having his crew with him. He missed the missions. He wanted things to go back to being way less complicated. Not that anything before had been simple, exactly, but his relationship with Spock had finally been going smoother, they had become friends… he had been so happy the first time Spock had said: "It is illogical for you to ask me to speak to you 'as a friend.' I am… always your friend, and therefore I cannot speak to you as anything else." Yeah… that had been a good day.

He wanted to go back to not being a whiny annoying person who leaned against walls and sighed mournfully.

And suddenly for no reason he remembered that he'd wanted to ask Spock about his father's reaction to this ordeal after their comm-call but forgotten because of stupid Ben Finney. Well, crap. Way to be a good friend, Kirk. He didn't know if the Vulcan High Council would try to interject in Spock's behalf… but a voice told him that was unlikely. They were much too busy to concern themselves with this, and anyway they couldn't deny that Spock had emotions because he had had to remove himself from command for reasons of 'emotional compromise' once before.

Jim had been involved that time, too…

"Captain Kirk?"

Oh. The doors had already opened and he hadn't even noticed. Great. This bode well for him.

"Sorry." Jim moved to push past the guy but suddenly realised he knew him. "Uh…"

"It's me… Lucas?"

Of course, the pilot who'd come to talk to him only yesterday. "Right! Hey."

Unfortunately, Mara, the hot sister, seemed to be nowhere near, but Lucas was with three other guys; two more pilots, in yellow just like Jim (who didn't have any civilian clothes with him anyway, and saw no need to replicate some) and a science officer in blue.

"It's great to see you, sir."

"Oh please, there's no need for that…" Jim said hurriedly. Lucas smiled.

"Okay. Are you going to visit the science department?"

"Uh, yeah, I figured I'd check out what all the fuss was about…" he surreptitiously tried to look over Lucas' shoulder at the corridor beyond, where he could clearly hear the bustle of work going on. Unfortunately, although Jim wasn't exactly short, Lucas was very tall, and all he caught was a glimpse of artificial solar light through a glass door-panel to the left and the impression that it opened to a huge room.

"We've actually got a break right now," one guy said with a tentative smile. He was the science boy. "You could come with us, if you want. We're going up to Rec-room F."

"Yeah," Lucas chimed in. "Yeah, definitely join us! You can always come here later, right?"

"Oh. Um…" With four eager faces staring at him, Jim didn't have the heart to refuse. He was game for Rec-room activites anyway, rather than visiting the science department alone; he could do that with Spock some other time. Plus a small part of him wanted to prove to these guys that he was not to be pitied or catered to, that he could hold his own. "Okay, sure. Thanks."

"Great!" Science Boy clapped.

A swift ride later, Lucas was leading him down more neon-bright corridors and into a very large Rec-room indeed. Compared the the Enterprise ones, this place was enormous, with screens on every wall and a flurry of activity around the tables; they had every game Jim knew and plenty he didn't. With so many officers, of course it made sense to have these places to relax and cool off; otherwise people would feel the strain of living together for such a long time. Even if the base itself was large, it was imperative to let off some steam, ergo this place, the bars, sports center, pool, etc.

Jim felt his spirits lift considerably when no one paid him any attention and he whistled, ready to admit he was suitably impressed. "Wow."

"It's great, isn't it? You wanna check out the virtual interactive games? Alex here plays a mean Fizz B'in!"

"Never heard of it, but I'm willing to give it a try."

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all. Jim allowed himself to relax a little and grinned with genuine interest. Alex, Science Boy, grinned back at him and started heading for one of the closest tables…

And that was when all hell broke loose.

It started with a jarring vibration that shook the very soles of Jim's boots, followed by a high-pitched whine that made him gasp; and then every screen in the room exploded. Screams echoed off the walls as people fell or were burned, and Jim found himself on the floor and scrambled to sit upright, coughing at the smoke and reeling from the pain in his abdomen, where his not-entirely-healed wound throbbed angrily.

"What the-?"

It was chaos; the bright white fluorescents were out and only the dull red emergency lights worked, so that the flashes still coming from the monitors cast confusing shadows. People yelled for their friends and the injured cried in pain.

Jim looked around and tried to assess the extent of the damage. Plenty of victims, but the groans and cries seemed to indicate they were all alive.

First things first; getting the Sickbay alerted, and finding out whether this had happened anywhere else. A sharp spike of panic was brutally shut out when it occurred to him that other Decks might be affected… and he made himself rationalise. Simplify. Detach. It was a skill he was still perfecting, but unfortunately as Captain he'd had plenty of chances to practice.

He spotted two officers, a man and a woman, trying to manually override the door controls and open them, but having no success. That figured; security of the entire base took priority in the event of a system faliure, which meant it was possible that this was an isolated incident. Environmental controls might be next to go but at least the gravity settings seemed to remain intact for now.

The dramatic bursting screens already told him it had been an overload of the circuits, but he needed to know if this room was part of the Main Line or not, to assess whether they were in danger of depending solely on back-up power.

He struggled to stand, the agony in his stomach clouding his vision for a moment before he could see clearly again.

"Hey, are you guys all right?"

The four men he'd come in with were all lying on the floor and blue-shirt Alex was clutching his head where he'd hit it against the side of the table; Jim saw a trickle of blood down his jaw.

"We'll live," one of the other yellow-clad officers groaned.

"Does anyone know if this room is part of the Main power line?"

"It's not," Lucas said, also standing with a wince. "Main runs through Decks 9 and 10, this is 14."

"Good." It was, in fact, amazing. It meant this could have been the only place where the power surge had happened, and his stuttering heart-beat steadied infinitesimally. "We need a communicator, the emergency system should kick in but I want to alert Hospital Bay to potential injuries anyway."

"Wait, what about the comm system?"

Jim nodded in the direction of the charred, smoking device on the wall next to the door. It was useless.

"Crap."

He glanced around the room again and saw that people had begun to cluster around those who were wounded in groups, those who knew first-aid instructing their companions.

"Does anyone have a communicator?"

At his shout everyone suddenly went quiet and turned to stare. Jim shoved down any self-conscious issues as confused stares turned to wide-eyed recognition and he sprang onto a table to address the crowd. "We should contact the Sickbay and get help."

"I've already called." A competent-looking officer several years Jim's senior said tensely, but without a trace of reproach.

"Excellent. Well done. Still, if anyone could lend me theirs, my CMO and his crew may be able to help—"

"Here."

A woman with singed blonde hair quickly handed him hers, then returned to her fallen friend, whose dark brown locks were full of glass and sticky with crimson.

"Thank you."

Jim forced himself to look away, to forget about emotions. He went back to speaking loudly and clearly to the room at large. "Okay, listen up. We won't be able to open the doors until security arrives, but once they do they'll be able to get inside, no problem. Just in case it takes a phaser shot, however, we should try and move away from the immediate vicinity."

To his intense relief his words were obeyed instantly as the uninjured rushed to help concussed or unconscious others move, and the pair who'd been trying to open the doors slowly edged away as well.

"Good. All we have to do now is sit tight for a minute and we'll be fine, I promise you," he tried for his most assured Captain's voice with this one and hoped his voice wasn't as scratchy from the dust as it sounded to him.

Finally he decided there was no more immediate action that demanded someone with his particular set of skills (um, Bones would have interjected here to point out that it was more like someone with no sense of self-preservation, but you know, technicalities, whatever) and he flipped open the borrowed communicator.

It was at this moment, unfortunately, as a tiny bit of the adrenaline rush wore off, that Jim's knees decided they could no longer support him and buckled. He gracelessly slumped down onto the table and sat cross-legged, fighting the urge to double over in pain as the tear on his side objected to the sudden move, knowing he needed to present the calm image of the person in command.

Despite the fact that his whole body was protesting the strain loudly, Jim knew without any doubt or false sense of over-confidence that these people would occasionally glance at him and need to see him keeping his cool; it was just a fact, an unconscious act of self-reassurance for their part, and he also knew that he must hold on for a little longer, just a little longer until he could call…

"Kirk to McCoy," he rasped. He had to hold on.

"McCoy here!"

He'd never been happier to hear his friend's voice.

"Bones! We have an emergency at Rec-room F, there's been some sort of circuit malfunction that cause a massive power surge, and we have several injured personnel. Environmental systems still seem to be working but I don't know for how long if Main power has been affected. I see a few second-degree burns, maybe even third, can't be sure. No casualties… yet."

"We got the alert, Chief Richardson already left to help coordinate the rescue party." McCoy sounded stressed and gruff, a tone Jim was all too familiar with. "Main's fine, we've only got another call from some private quarters in the same Deck where you are and I think no one else has been hurt. Don't worry, a team is on their way."

"Thanks. Good." Breathing was beginning to hurt a little. "Kirk out."

"Jim, wait! You okay?"

"Splendiferous."

"Are you lying?"

He covered the tiny mic with his hand when he coughed. "M' fine, Bones! Get back to saving lives and shit!"

"Sure thing. See you later for an exam, I'm sure."

"Right."

"McCoy out."

The device snapped shut and Jim realised he'd have to violate his usual 'It Won't Hurt As Much If I Don't Look At It' policy and check his wound. He gingerly pulled up his shirt but, to his intense relief, found that it wasn't bleeding, although it still hurt like hell.

That done meant he could now call-

"Aw fuck, what happened to you?"

A red-clad woman (one of the two who'd been at the door controls, he thought) bent over to examine his wound and Jim was treated to the lovely sight of her well-endowed chest in that snug dress; but while it was a welcome distraction, it wasn't nearly enough to make him forget the sense of urgency gnawing at his insides, and he ardently wished she would go away.

"Long story. No luck with the doors, I see?"

"Nah, system's fried, and we have no safety-gloves or any tools to do a proper rigging."

Once she straightened up the man who was with her put a possessive arm on her waist that screamed 'back off.' Jim wanted to groan. There were people lying on the floor bleeding and this dick was worried about him trying to steal his girlfriend? Seriously?

But he let his shirt fall back to cover the apparently provocative expanse of skin over his ribs, thinking now was not a good moment to pick a fight. The woman gave a little moue of distaste and frowned at him.

"I was pre-Med and that skin-graph look strained. Tissue-regeneration requires bed rest, you know that, right? You'd best behave over the next week, at least, or it will scar."

Did every person working in medicine develop the 'I Am Your Mother' complex? Jesus.

"Sure thing. Since you did pre-Med, though, you should check him out." He pointed down at Alex. "He hit his head, I think."

Dr Mum immediately dropped to her knees to examine the Science Officer, who had been propped against the table leg by his two friends, and her partner left to assist the blonde girl who'd lent Jim the communicator by ripping strips of his shirt and using them to try and staunch the bleeding. Maybe not a total jackass, then, Jim had to reluctantly admit.

"Hey Lucas, what secondary system…?" He trailed off, realising he was speaking into thin air. Lucas had left, and in the dim smoky light Jim couldn't spot him among the many outlined figures. Maybe he was trying to find a communicator to call his sister.

Wellt then, this was it. He finally had a stolen second, a moment to breathe; and instead of breathing what he did was use the communicator to call Moss' office.

"Kirk to Legal Department. Nathaniel Moss."

For a long, terrible moment no one answered.

"Hello?"

"Kirk? It's Moss! Are you anywhere near Deck 14?"

"Where's Spock?"

But he already knew. Something in his gut told him the answer to the question before Moss spoke.

"He just left. Someone called… there's been some sort of accident and he said he was going up to assist—"

"No! It's dangerous up here! Tell him to go—"

"Wait, you're there too? What happened? Are you all right?"

"Dammit, you shouldn't have let him do that! He has zero self-preservation instincts, the noble idiot…!"

Jim slammed his palm against the table he sat on and imagined it was Spock's stupid conscience (an impressive feat of abstract realism achieved by the combination of his adrenalin rush and a vivid imagination).

"He's gone, James! I only stayed in my office in case someone called, I don't know where—"

At this he hung up and slid off the table, standing precariously. The floor lurched once and he stumbled, for a second thinking the gravity settings had finally broken down, but then he realised his balance was terrible and he was swaying where he stood.

"Oy! James!"

Jim turned wearily at the sound. It was Lucas, running toward him again and skidding to a halt at his side.

"Are you sure you're okay? You looked like you were about to pass out!"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry. Hey, is Mara okay?"

The pilot opened his mouth to reply—

"Attention all officers."

A voice boomed inside the room and Jim had to cover his ears; it felt jarring and unnecessarily loud. The speakers must have been busted as well.

"This is Security Chief Hayes, please stay clear of the doors."

A decent space had already been emptied for them to operate, both entrances to the rec room being at opposite sides and far enough from the center of the room, where most people had come to congregate.

"Ten, nine, eight…"

As everyone acknowledged they would finally get help, a general sense of relief seemed to permeate the atmosphere, and a couple of officers even cheered weakly. Jim noted that one of them had a clearly dislocated shoulder, the bad-ass motherfucker.

"Seven, six, five, four—"

Abruptly the mechanised voice cut off.

The silence it left behind was eerie and tense.

"What's happening?" A particularly young Ensign whispered. He had a shard of Plexiglass lodged in his forearm.

"Someone's found a way to open the doors without using an exploding device," Jim declared confidently, even though he knew that it might actually mean they would be unable to open the doors after all, if a new threat to security had been detected. "Give the poor guys a sec to get their shit together."

The silence became louder and louder as seconds ticked by, punctuated only by the occasional fizzle of a wire or spitting spark.

And then…

A distinctly metallic grinding started from the back, through the other entrance, the one Jim hadn't come in through. Every head craned to stare, Jim included, of course.

His shocked brain was not prepared to process what he saw.

"Holy shit…" Lucas whispered.

A backlit figure was opening the double doors by pulling them bodily apart using his inhuman strength, like some sort of superhero of the kind Jim had loved to read about when he was a kid.

"Is that…?"

"Oh my God…"

"It's Commander Spock."

"The Vulcan. The one who's on trial."

"How is he doing that?"

Spock's arms were slowly but surely extending, wrenching the doors wide enough for the glaring corridor light to stream into the dim room. Jim was completely frozen in place and some part of him registered that the same thing seemed to have happened to the others, too; amazed, stunned expressions decorated every face as the thought that Spock might actually need help didn't seem to occur to anyone. Because it was so obvious that he did this every day without any effort, that this was the sort of thing he did in his sleep and that his lithe Vulcan limbs felt no strain.

When the space was sufficient, two red-clad men inserted a tensile device between the door-panels to avoid them shutting again and Spock stepped inside. Behind him rushed four security officers and the medical team, all of whom were quick to spread out and assist those who needed it.

"Those who are mobile and unhindered must exit the room immediately. This will allow for better care to those who are not."

The Commander spoke calmly and composedly, his deep, emotionless voice suggesting assurance and authority without a hint of tiredness. It was a tone that demanded immediate and thoughtless obedience, as though Spock knew without a doubt that his request would be carried out.

There was one brief, insane moment when Jim wondered what it would be like to refuse to do something Spock had asked in that same tone. Then he shook his head, deciding the explosion had messed up his brain, and he started moving to help out others.

Seconds later, however, there was a crash and Jim's head snapped up, trying to locate it's source. To his utter shock it turned out to be Spock who was frozen in place this time, his arms halted mid-motion where they had been holding the remains of a monitor which had promptly fallen to the floor, presumably when he had seen Jim.

Their gazes locked.

The moment went on and on as Jim wasn't sure what expression he was supposed to convey and Spock just looked at him, obviously stunned even though all his face showed was a slightly slack jaw… until finally the Vulcan's brain seemed to re-start itself and Spock opened his mouth to say something across the space between them, but Jim immediately shook his head and mouthed: "I'm good."

A tiny frown appeared between Spock's eyebrows and he took a step forward, foot crushing the fallen monitor to a pulp without him even noticing, apparently. Jim shook his head again, wondering what was wrong with his friend; surely Spock knew it would be a very bad idea for them to draw attention to themselves now, and normally his First Officer was almost physically allergic to those.

"Please, Captain Kirk could you...?"

Communicator Woman waved at Jim and the spell broke, forcing him to look away from Spock and back to gritty reality. She was kneeling beside her friend and the nurse needed someone to help prop her up.

"Of course." He firmly ignored the fresh stab of pain when he dropped to his knees and flexed his muscled arms experimentally, then reached for the unconscious girl's torso as gently as he could.

"Will she be all right?" A streak of tears had cut through the dust on the other woman's face. "She was standing right in front of me, really close to the screen."

The nurse was bent on her scanner. "I'm sorry, I don't know yet."

Jim's biceps started to ache a little from the weight but he wasn't about to complain. He pointedly avoided looking around to see what Spock was doing, deciding it was better to just concentrate on the task at hand, and that they could talk later.

Gradually the chaos did subside into more moderate tones, when the only sounds above the shuffle of were low moans of distress and soft reassurances. Security officers came and went; mostly to clear a path through the debris so that patients could be wheeled out safely, and then to help the nurses and doctors do so.

In the unforgiving bright light the Rec-room looked awful; everything was covered in soot and the smoke rising from broken equipment had clouded the air and kept making Jim's eyes water, not to mention the glowing sparks that had left scorch-marks on the previously gleaming polished floor.

It took them a good hour of careful manoeuvring during which Jim refused to leave but to be allowed to work as well, and finally only himself, Spock, the techs and several people from maintenance remained. There was a low murmur coming from the corridor outside, however, which suggested an accumulation of witnesses.

"Jim."

He turned around to face Spock's pale countenance. For once his immaculate First Officer had acquired a dust coating; neat hair made grey by the ash and smears of grime on his face. Overall the effect was oddly endearing, Jim thought absently.

Huh, maybe those motherly doctor instincts were rubbing off on him.

"You are not hurt."

This was said in a tone which seemed to suggest that if Jim was hurt there would be hell to pay.

"No, I'm okay," he clarified, although Spock hadn't technically asked the question.

"That is fortunate. The potential for injury in this space was approximately 78.9 percent."

Jim wondered how on Earth Spock had calculated those odds, but decided not to comment, since his First Officer was looking distinctly tense and unforgiving.

"You must nevertheless visit the Hospital Bay," Spock continued. His eyes had gone very black, which usually meant he was angry. Jim secretly hoped that this time at least he wasn't to become the focus for the emotion, although in the past Spock had made his irritation very clear whenever Jim (needlessly, in Spock's view, but incredibly heroically, in Jim's) ended up needing to spend time in said Hospital Bay.

"They'll be flooded right now, Spock. I can wait."

"You require—"

"Let's not do this. Please." His words earned him a clenched jaw and a narrowing of the eyebrows, Spock's equivalent of a Death Glare, but Jim, ever the rebel, just glared right back.

"Captain, this is not a matter of subjective—"

"Think logically."

"It is not logical to refuse medical treatment when you might need it." The words themselves were not spoken sharply, but Spock managed to convey his complete disgust with his Captain quite well, as if it was Jim's own stupidity and recklessness which had nearly got him blown up, instead of just bad timing.

Sometimes that guy could still find ways of being extremely irritating.

"I already know that I don't—"

"You are not a trained proffesional, your opinion is not valid in this instance—"

"Oh, and in your all-knowing divinity your opinion is obviously the best—"

"Oy! Are you two done?" One of the techs started walking toward them, obviously annoyed. "Because we've got work to do in here."

Jim looked around him and realised that every person in the room was staring at them in disbelief. Was he just being ridiculously stubborn? Possibly. Why did Spock sometimes bring out the silly old tough-guy persona he was trying to be better than? Who the hell was he trying to impress here?

"Sorry. We're leaving."

With a dark muttering of 'goddamn pretty space-boys' and 'bubbles' (yeah… what?) the man stalked away.

Jim approached the door with badly concealed curiosity, as he tried to examing the grooves Spock's fingers had carved in the metal without Spock actually notincing, but gave up the moment their eyes met and he realised he was just being stupid.

"Okay, so sometimes you act like a patronising know-it-all but I have to admit that that was pretty cool, when you pulled them apart like that," he said with a tentative grin. Spock held his gaze for a moment and then looked down at the contraption that kept the doors from closing again.

If Jim didn't know better he'd think Spock was slightly bashful. But of course the very notion would be… most illogical.

"You appear to have a tendency to find yourself in situations that invariably cause your health to deteriorate," he said finally.

"Hey, it's not like I do it on purpose," Jim chided him, but there was no heat behind his words anymore. He had already decided that Spock was obviously upset about something, and he was even willing to guess that it had to do with the empathy and worry he was feeling for others, and having to suppress those thoughts but finding it difficult, or even being unable to. Spock cared about life… all Vulcans did, of course, they were peace-loving by nature, but Spock's regard for living beings went a little beyond that, Jim thought. It was one of his best traits. It made him very… good.

Heh. There was probably a better word for it but Jim found it oddly fitting.

"The pattern seems excessively consistent for mere coincidence to be in play," Spock insisted.

Jim gave him a fond eye-roll. "Well I'm so sorry that I'm unlucky," he said. "Come on, let's get out of here."

But before he could take another step, someone collided with him with enough force to knock him on his ass. Thankfully Spock's hand shout out to steady him by supporting his back briefly and Jim managed to remain upright, but not without a grunt of protest escaping his lips as the mysterious person held him too tightly.

"Ow!"

The abundance of long dark hair identified her an instant later, but Jim was very, very surprised once they drew apart and he saw who it was.

"Did you just…? Did this just happen?" He turned to Spock quizzically, trying to make light of the situation. "Did Uhura just hug me, Spock?"

But once again his attempt at humour ended in epic fail as Spock merely replied, rigid and monosyllabic; "Yes."

"And don't you dare tell anyone," Uhura snapped, but soft dark eyes told another story.

She turned to Spock after that, but didn't try to throw her arms around him, thank goodness. "Are you okay?"

Her tone was slightly accusing when she said this, for some reason.

"I was not in the vicinity when the power-surged occurred."

"Yeah, I know."

Spock didn't offer an answer, however, and to avoid a potentially awkward moment between the two exes Jim pointed out that they should move out of the way.

"Sulu said he'd be waiting to see Jim near the Sickbay and that you'd both better get down there." She shot him a meaningful glance as they walked down the corridor. "So I'm here to kidnap you, really."

"Right. The hug was just your way of luring me into a false sense of security, was it?" Jim said smugly. He knew he could get out of being examined once they actually arrived, and so for now de decided he'd go along with her.

"Of course. To get you all vulnerable and sensitive."

"Sure it was."

Uhura groaned theatrically. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"

In this case neither of them would admit to their real feelings, of course, but Jim silently reflected that he was rather touched that she'd cared about him being hurt, mostly because he just really wouldn't have expected Uhura, of all people, to rush up to him and give him a hug. It made his affection for the gorgeous Lieutenant grow in an unfamiliar way; unfamiliar because there was nothing sexual behind it (he'd long ago stopped wondering how to get her into bed), but it was more… valuable. Better. Besides Bones, Jim hadn't exactly had a plethora of friends before.

It was kind of awesome.

x

"Oh this is just great. There's some tearing of the healing tissue and minor muscle rupture."

"But that actually sounds not so ba—"

"You'll need constant check-ups and an entire day of bed rest."

"That's not happening."

Jim had, somehow, and completely against his will, been convinced by the combined pressure of some of his bridge crew that he had to enter the Hospital Bay and get McCoy to scan him. Multiple times. Which was annoying, because he wasn't even quite sure how it had happened; one second he was like 'I wanna go to the Mess hall and eat lunch' and the next Spock was like 'No.' What the hell?

"Goddammit, listen to me," the doctor growled. "You could cause yourself severe damage, okay?"

"Bones. I'll take it easy. I'm sorry." Jim's tone immediately became apologetic as he realised he was just being an insensitive idiot. McCoy was seriously stressed and the Hospital Bay was packed; the large space growing claustrophobic because of the beeps from monitors, a low ceiling and inevitably raised voices. In fact, it was so crowded that they hadn't even let any of his friends come in with him.

"Good. Lift your arm, I'll try and knit this a bit tighter to hold it together."

As Jim did so his thoughts wondered to the woman who'd been bleeding so badly. From what he'd been able to gather so far there were only three officers in critical condition including her, four more with severe burns and then the rest were several minor injuries. But no fatalities yet, and with hope and some luck there wouldn't be any.

Commodore Barnett had issued a quick statement explaining the situation to everyone all over the Base via speakers, and assured them that people were working on finding out what had happened. To Jim's surprise, he had then come down to the Hospital Bay and stayed for a while talking to the patients (but avoided Jim himself, which made him regret his actions during their first meeting once again), before going back up to supervise the investigation.

"Where's Spock?" McCoy asked absently as he sprayed something that felt ice-cold against Jim's side.

"Outside. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I figured the goblin would be close by, you being hurt and all."

For some reason this really irritated Jim.

"What's that supposed to mean? Uhura's there too, you know. She hugged me. And Chekov, and Sulu, and they said Scotty was coming over later to check on me. He was gonna bring Keenser."

"Okay, okay, relax, I'm sorry. I was jus' sayin.'"

His anger left as quickly as it had come. "Nah, I'm sorry, Bones. You go do your job and I promise to behave."

"Really? Because last time you said that you went and got yourself locked inside a room that exploded," McCoy said sarcastically.

"Oh for crying out loud, I didn't know that was gonna happen!"

His friend actually grinned tiredly, for which Jim was secretly glad, and then waved over a nurse who Jim didn't recognise (and who must therefore be from the Base, not the Enterprise).

"Yes, doctor?"

"Take this guy outside and you'll find a bunch of people waiting to see him. One of them is a Vulcan; you tell him from me, Dr Leonard McCoy, that he'd better make sure Jim goes straight to his bed and stays there."

"Sometimes I love you so much it's like I kind of hate you, Bones."

"Denial is only the first step, Jim."

The nurse gave them both a slightly disbelieving look, but nevertheless she escorted Jim out and located Spock among the crowd, as promised. Uhura, Chekov, Sulu and Scotty were all there standing around him in a half-circle, and Jim wondered for how long this had been happening; it used to be that Spock always remained the quiet shadow, relegating himself to the sidelines.

"Hi. Dr McCoy says I'm to tell you something…? I'm assuming you're Commander Spock."

Spock nodded curtly in expectation.

"You have to take this guy to bed and keep him there, okay?"

And on that unforgettable note she pushed Jim in Spock's direction like he was some sort of abandoned kitten and left.

There was a fantastically stunned silence as Spock blinked once and then became only slightly less expressive than a statue, the only thing giving him away as a living being; the twin spots of flushed green colour on his high cheekbones. He stood perfectly immobile and without meeting his Captain's eye (not that said Captain was trying to meet his eye; he was too busy being fascinated by the floor and how pretty his shoes were) for a wonderfully uncomfortable long time, during which Jim contemplated making a joke of this like he normally would have, but for some reason the words had lodged in his throat and refused to cooperate.

Poor Spock was probably embarrassed enough not to be able to pretend he hadn't understood the double meaning, Jim thought rationally (also wrongly, but he didn't know that). Jim was certainly wishing he could forget the past minute, because a part of him was beginning to suspect that Trouble waited down that dangerous path and yes, even in his mind that was a capital 'T'.

Thankfully, it was Uhura who saved the day by bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. She was followed by the others and after a little while Jim decided he might as well join in, since the world had obviously decided to go batshit crazy today.

Spock remained perfectly still throughout this very Human display, expression betraying nothing, as usual. It was only later, once the group started walking to the Deck where their quarters were located, that he attempted to stabilise his pounding heartbeat and calm his roused senses.

No one knew that a shiver of apprehension (even in his mind, the word 'fear' was rarely aknowledged) crept down his spine. No one heard the sweetest, softest sigh he allowed himself as Jim grinned brightly at Sulu and threw a mock-punch in his direction.

No one saw the silent longing in those dark, fathomless eyes, because Spock would never let it show.

Gosh, there are SO MANY OC's in this story! XD I hope it's not too confusing?

Awwwww, and there's some pining!Spock for you at the end there!

(Also I may or may not have recently heard the "Boyfriend" song by Ashlee Simpson and kind of imagined Jim singing it to Uhura... and then written a fic that actually turned out kind of serious-y-ish-er? *headdesk*)