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Imprint

By: DB2020
folder S through Z › Star Trek (2009)
Rating: Adult
Chapters: 10
Views: 8,469
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Recommended: 1
Currently Reading: 5
Disclaimer: Star Trek doesn’t belong to me. This story is a work of fiction set in the world Gene Roddenberry and JJ Abrams created. I make no profit from this story.
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Chapter 7

Imprint
Chapter Seven


The start of alpha shift brought McCoy to Jim’s station. He flagged Chapel who knowingly loaded a hypospray with a minor sedative. His eyes were glued to the chart’s screen as he checked the vital readouts from gamma shift. He frowned over several instances where Jim had been awake. The readings for the last three hours were a jumble of numbers that made no sense.

He cursed under his breath when he checked the biobed’s operational status and found that the alarm was now listed as disabled. It wasn’t the first time Jim had tampered with his equipment. The cocky little miscreant thought that anything with an electrical current was fair game for hotwiring.

More than happy to ream Jim out, McCoy readied a few colorful statements.

“Doctor,” Chapel whispered, her arm slowly falling away from where she’d parted the privacy curtain.

McCoy looked up. “What?”

Chapel gestured to the bed and McCoy’s step fell short. Hazel eyes widened, horrified at the sight of Jim cozy in bed with a Vulcan.

Just visible over the blanket’s hem, a head of black hair nestled against Jim’s shoulder. He moved to shake Jim awake and had every intention of never letting the man live this down.

Chapel snatched at McCoy’s shirtsleeve, hand dropping self-consciously the moment she had his attention. “Dr. McCoy,” she said. She dropped her voice to accentuate the gravel in it. “It seems a shame to wake them.”

Arching a brow, McCoy regarded Chapel with suspicion. “There ain’t enough whiskey this side of the quadrant that could make this right.”

“It’s precious.” Chapel looked surprised that McCoy didn’t share her opinion.

“Precious?” McCoy said as his other eyebrow arched to join the first. He turned towards his sleeping patients and barked, “Red alert!”

Kirk jerked awake, lurching upright with an incoherent groan. He cast off the blankets and swung his legs over the side of bed, but was stopped by Bones’ hands on his shoulders.

Casting a sidelong glance to Chapel, McCoy said, “Now that was precious.” He squeezed Jim’s shoulders to keep him in place. “Relax, kid. I was testing your reflexes.” He didn’t even try to hide his grin.

Bleary blue eyes glanced around. The signal light on the wall was off. There was no alert. He looked around for Spock and found him near the chair on the other side of the bed. “Morning,” he said with a lazy grin. There wasn’t a hair out of place on the boy’s head. If he hadn’t felt the weight of him against his arm moments ago, he might have thought Spock had spent the night in the chair.

Placid expression in place, Spock gave a curt nod. “Good morning,” he said. Without a blanket covering him, his scrubs felt thin and loose. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for the doctor’s acknowledgment.

Jaw flexing, McCoy glanced between the two patients. “There’s no morning on a starship and there’s certainly no reason for it to be good.”

“Good morning to you too, Bones.” Kirk met Nurse Chapel’s sparkling regard and nodded.

“I’m glad to see you so energetic, Captain,” Chapel said. She remained at the foot of the bed, watching as McCoy worked. She still held the sedative, just in case.

McCoy’s smooth jaw line and combed hair were the result of showering in his quarters as opposed to a quick sonic in sickbay. He’d spent the past few days living out of his office.

McCoy ran a scanner over Jim’s hands. Everything checked out, but numbers and readouts meant nothing to him. Using the stylus from Jim’s patient chart, he ran it over the kid’s upturned palm.

“You feel that?”

“It tickles.”

“Good. How ‘bout this?”

Kirk jerked his hand away with an offended, “Ow.” His glare was more sullen than angry.

“That’s good too.” McCoy took Jim’s hand back in his own and continued his exam.

Spock observed the intimate display with disconcertion. Dr. McCoy’s hands boldly touched Jim’s and neither man seemed conscious of the impropriety. He fought down a blush and fixed his eyes on the floor.

Rushed footsteps approached, bringing a winded M’Benga into the already crowded station. “Dr. McCoy, it’s Spock,” he said in a panic.

“Finally noticed?” McCoy asked, his eyes never leaving Jim’s right hand as he poked and prodded. “Can you feel that?” he asked Jim.

“Yeah,” Kirk said. He flexed his hand as Bones moved onto the other one. “It doesn’t feel dull. I’m sore, but no worse for the wear.”

McCoy finally turned to address M’Benga. “From the looks of it, Spock’s been out of bed for most of the last shift.”

“I just came on,” M’Benga defended. “I was looking over the read outs when I saw he’d left.”

McCoy cast a quick glance to the Vulcan child who listened without comment. “I suggest you set the alarm next time.”

“I assumed I wouldn’t need to.” M’Benga didn’t need to elaborate. Vulcan logic should have been assurance enough that Spock would remain in his own bed.

McCoy grunted. “I would’ve assumed the same. Clearly, this isn’t the Spock we know.” Catching the Vulcan’s eye, he added, “The Spock we know would have stayed in his own bed and followed his doctor’s orders.”

Kirk pulled his hand from Bones’ grasp. “You know what happened down there. What did you think he’d do?”

McCoy’s next reprimand crumbled beneath the steady stare of electric blue eyes. With defeat, he muttered his usual, “Dammit, Jim.” The impish blond responded with a blinding smile. “I’ll check the kid out,” he said to M’Benga.

M’Benga would have pointed out that Vulcan physiology was his specialty, but arguing with his CMO was like arguing with a brick wall. Half the time the man wasn’t listening and the other half he just didn’t care. “By your leave, Dr. McCoy,” he said, his tone just short of mocking.

After M’Benga had left, Kirk commented, “I don’t think he likes you.”

“I don’t need him to like me,” McCoy returned.

Revising and analyzing his actions of the past night, Spock determined that he should have notified someone of his intentions. As if on trial, he presented himself before Dr. McCoy. “I apologize for my errant behavior. While I was aware that I should remain within the bounds of my station, I was compelled to confirm the status of Captain Kirk’s health.”

“Spock, it’s fine. Bones is all bark, no bite. You didn’t do anything wrong.” A second later, Kirk yanked his hand back and sucked on the pinched skin of his fingertip. He glared a little harder this time.

McCoy suppressed a smile. He patted the foot of the bed and said, “Feet next.” While Jim shifted about, he instructed Chapel, “Walk Spock through the preliminary. I’ll be over when I’ve finished with our dear captain.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Chapel left the sedative on the tray cart beside the bed, then waited at the curtain’s opening for Spock.

When Spock didn’t budge, McCoy addressed him directly. “Spock, go with Nurse Chapel. She needs more blood samples for the labs.”

Spock’s eyes settled on Jim for direction.

“Go for it,” Kirk said. He nodded towards Chapel. “She’s the best there is.”

Chapel bowed her head in thanks. “I’m glad you noticed.”

With a bare nod, Spock turned and followed the blonde nurse.

ooo

The seas parted for Lieutenant Nyota Uhura as she swept through the halls of the Enterprise. Long, high-bound hair swayed in tandem with her determined steps.

When she arrived in sickbay, she made a beeline for Dr. McCoy’s office, but found the seat behind the cluttered desk unoccupied. Pivoting on foot, she stopped the nearest nurse and pinned her in place with a sharp look.

“Where’s Dr. McCoy?”

“Bay three, with the captain,” came the hasty reply.

She strode away after a nod of thanks.

It was easy to find the captain’s station. All eyes were riveted on the partly concealed area. Nurses lingered near empty beds, heads bowed over charts they weren’t reading.

With a perfunctory tug on her uniform, she stepped in front of the curtain’s opening. She expected a bedridden Kirk to be asleep or quietly eating a meal. What she found was her captain doubled over with laughter.

Spock was the first to catch sight of the lithe figured woman. His chair was situated against Jim’s bedside. He straightened in his seat. For a moment, he was at a loss for what to do with his hands. He settled on clasping them in his lap.

Kirk’s laughter cut short when he spotted Uhura’s red clad form.

Uhura gave a passing glance to the bed and monitors. She saw a dark haired boy, but didn’t think twice. More focused on the obvious absence of Dr. McCoy, she wondered why it was so hard to pin the CMO down in sickbay?

“Captain…” Uhura trailed off. Dark eyes backtracked to the boy. Observing more than his hair, she realized he was Vulcan. Posture, ears, eyebrows, complexion, and bowl cut.

Where had he come from? The ship was lightyears from the new Vulcan colony. Thelos claimed to have had no outside contact prior to the most recent Federation envoys. Although that intelligence was now suspect since the shamans had also reported no political unrest.

The boy’s warm brown eyes were all too familiar. The air rushed from Uhura’s lungs. “Spock?” she said, sounding strangled.

Spock stood to greet the woman. Her features were sharp, her dark eyes perceptive, lips full like Jim’s, and hair long like his mother’s. He wondered how well he had known her prior to Thelos.

“I am Spock. Am I correct in assuming that you are Lieutenant Uhura?” Jim had mentioned that she would arrive at any moment.

Uhura moved closer, but stopped when the boy’s narrow shoulders tensed. “What happened?”

“A lot,” Kirk said. “He’s fine. He’s not the right age, but he’s fine.”

Socked feet dangled over the side of the bed, Kirk prepared to stand.

When Spock realized Jim’s intentions, he moved to block the attempt. “Jim, Dr. McCoy instructed you to remain reposed.”

“He also tells me to drink less coffee,” Kirk said with a wink. “There are times when doctors don’t know best.”

Spock inclined his head and clasped his hands behind his back. He remained firmly rooted. “I am familiar with the Terran beverage once brewed from the coffee bean. It is a physical stimulant with potentially addictive properties. I find myself in agreement with Dr. McCoy in both matters.”

Needing more than Kirk’s easygoing attitude to put her concerns to rest, Uhura asked the one person who always gave her a straight answer. “Spock, what happened?”

Though Spock turned to face the lieutenant, he remained aware of Jim in his periphery. “I have suffered the age altering effects of a Thelosian device. The exact properties of the device remain unknown, but the result, as you can see, is quite fascinating. At present, I am thirteen years of age.” Jim had encouraged him to exclude the specific number of months, days, and hours when declaring his age. Inaccuracy was illogical, but he made the concession for Jim.

The number resounded through Uhura’s mind. Thirteen what? Thirteen years? She searched for some flicker recognition in Spock’s expression. She found none. “Do you know me?”

“I remember only what transpired after regaining consciousness on Thelos. Prior to that, I was in my home, in Shi’Kahr, on Vulcan.”

Kirk explained, “Mind, body, what he remembers up to now. He’s thirteen.”

Uhura nodded, though she didn’t really understand. “So you don’t know me?”

With a faint crease in his brow, Spock glanced to Jim. When Jim remained intent on the lieutenant, he turned back to the slender woman. “Are you not Lieutenant Uhura?”

Taking a deep breath, Uhura plastered a smile on her face. She spoke around the lump in her throat, “I am.” Her smile twitched around the words. “What does Dr. McCoy say?”

Kirk realized that Uhura didn’t share his complete faith that the relic’s effect was reversible. “It’s not permanent,” he said with unwavering conviction.

Uhura nodded and had to stop herself from launching into an interrogation. “I was worried,” was all she said.

A long silence fell. Even the workings of the bay became quiet. Curious crewmen held their breath and perked their ears to catch every word. It was maddening, but Uhura couldn’t bring herself to speak. She just stared.

Kirk finally spoke. “Tell Spock about yourself,” he suggested, recalling his own hasty introduction that first day on Thelos.

As simple as it should have been, Uhura found the task impossible. She debated whether to find Dr. McCoy instead.

Kirk wondered if Uhura needed time alone. Having to reintroduce herself to the man she loved was a sad joke.

Putting on a good show, Uhura mustered her composure and offered the ta’al. She could handle introducing herself, even if she felt panic rise in response. “Na’shaya, Spock. Kup-kah sanosh du ragel-tor.”[Greetings, Spock. It is a pleasure to meet you.]

For a stunned moment Spock could not form a response. Then custom kicked in and the words came naturally. “Na’shaya, Lieutenant. Stariben du u’veh salasu-tor Ah’rak. Kup-ak’wikmun nash-veh.” [Greetings, Lieutenant. You speak as one native to Vulcan. I am surprised.]

Absurdly amused at the cruel irony of the situation, Uhura said, “Vesht ma rom savensu nash-veh.” [I had a good teacher.]

Kirk had a look of intense concentration. “Say that again,” he told Uhura.

A genuine smile softened Uhura’s tense expression. She repeated herself slowly.

Kirk frowned. “Savensu?”

“Teacher,” Uhura said in Federation Standard.

“I was thinking ‘savas-masu’.” [fruit-juice]

Spock moved close to Jim’s side and studied the man with awed curiosity. “Kup du ek’ariben svi’Vuhlkansu?” he queried in a quiet voice, as if afraid of the answer. [You are fluent in Vulcan?]

Kirk’s answering smile was hesitant and uncertain of itself. “I can’t so much speak it as I can understand what’s being said.”

Spock did not understand the sudden rush of pride that he felt. It was not his accomplishment, yet he was flattered by Jim’s intelligence. Jim was truly a remarkable Human. “It is not uncommon to develop a greater cognitive understanding of a language than an oral acuity. Vulcan is a particularly difficult language for Humans unaccustomed to its accents and pauses.”

Heat crept up Kirk’s neck. He hadn’t intended for his efforts to become public knowledge, certainly not before he’d become proficient enough to hold a decent conversation. He was irrationally embarrassed by Spock’s approval. He bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous reflex.

Spock continued to stare, trying to interpret Jim’s evasive eyes and pink cheeks. Jim appeared embarrassed, yet he did not recognize any cause for embarrassment. “You did not mention your knowledge of the language earlier. Why?”

Eager to change the subject, Kirk hastened to dismiss his most recent linguistic foray. “We had other things to worry about.”

In the short month since they’d set out from Earth, Uhura had helped the captain develop his fluency in Vulcan. His secrecy about it baffled her. Kirk had a talent for languages and was largely self-taught when it came to Vulcan. He’d visited her a number of times in her department to practice conversational speaking. She’d never mentioned it to anyone because of the way Kirk always went silent or slipped into Standard when crewmembers neared them. Whatever his reservations, she encouraged his efforts.

Kirk felt Uhura’s interest, as if she were trying to see inside his head. He returned to the issue at hand. “I told Spock that you and he were pretty close.” Under scrutiny he clarified, “Friends. You were good friends.”

Uhura silently thanked Kirk for being discreet for once in his life. The idea of telling a thirteen year old boy, Vulcan or not, that she was the boy’s girlfriend just seemed perverse.

“We are good friends,” Uhura amended. To Spock, she said, “Whether you remember or not.”

Spock blinked once, then twice, and continued to stare at Uhura with a kind of stunned confusion. When the lieutenant smiled in a manner reminiscent of his mother, he bowed his head and stared at a point on the floor just in front of the woman’s boots.

While Spock’s attention remained on the floor, Kirk swung around to the other side of the bed and levered down. He was sore just about everywhere, but he stood tall. His left shin radiated a sharp ache, the kind that told him the bone was still tender after grafting and regeneration.

Spock’s head shot up. “Jim, you are not sufficiently recovered.”

“It’s a little known secret that Dr. McCoy overestimates recovery times. When he says a week, he really means a day.”

Uhura studied Kirk more closely. “Captain, are you okay?” When she’d signed her shift over to alpha, her sole focus had been to find Spock and make sure he was okay. But Kirk had also been stranded on Thelos. He looked tired and gaunt, his body language drawn tight and defensive.

“I’m a little overrun.” Kirk chuckled at the joke that only he appreciated.

McCoy appeared behind Uhura. “Shut up and sit down, you errant farm boy!”

Kirk’s shoulders jumped in surprise. An equally startled Uhura whirled around.

McCoy gave Uhura an apologetic tip of his head. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

Finally face-to-face with the CMO, Uhura stepped aside to allow McCoy past. His broad shouldered figure was not typical of most doctors she’d known. Neither was his acerbic bedside manner.

“What can you tell me about Spock?”

McCoy studied the composed woman, reading the tension around her eyes. A man could lose himself in those eyes, or a Vulcan as the case may be. “He’s healthy, if that’s your worry.”

Uhura re-crossed her arms and dared the doctor to tell her that her now thirteen-year-old boyfriend was healthy. “Healthy?”

“For his age,” McCoy said. Attention turning to Jim, he pointed to the bed. “Your ears are working fine. I said sit.”

Kirk ignored the order. He casually shifted his weight to his good leg and asked, “Any results yet?”

A colorful invective was on the tip of McCoy’s tongue, but he let it go with an exasperated sigh. All too aware of Lieutenant Uhura, he summoned his manners. The poor woman probably had an ulcer by now, so he followed Jim’s redirection and focused on his green-blooded patient.

“The blood samples didn’t turn up anything. His tox screens are clean. No foreign antigens, viruses, infections, or contaminants. No nothing. Genetic markers check out. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s just as he should be.”

Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose and willed away the throb in his left temple. Not wanting to project a defeated attitude, he dropped his hand and nodded his acceptance of the facts. “What happens next?” he asked.

McCoy’s eyes strayed to Spock.

“It’s fine, Bones. Just come out with it.”

“We’re still running samples in the labs, but we might as well be groping around in the dark. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“You and me both,” Kirk agreed.

“I’ve searched the computer banks and called in some contacts, but I won’t hear back from them for at least a few days. If Command lifts the standing gag order on this mission, I can spread the word in the medical community and get some real ideas.”

“You have real ideas,” Kirk said.

“I’m a doctor, not a psychic. Give me more to go on and I can start to narrow things down.”

“Be at the briefing and you’ll get more. I know you don’t want to hear this, but we could be dealing with something that’s more mystic and magic than medical.”

Spock’s brow edged upwards, but he did not comment.

“Everything’s medical, you idget.”

Spock was inclined to agree with the doctor, but Jim shook his head in obvious disagreement.

“I saw what that stone did. One of the Thelosians called Spock a child spirit. Whether that’s the just a bad translation or a clue, I don’t know. I want you working with Uhura on this.” He caught Uhura’s eye. “You’re our point on Thelosian culture. I want you researching the relic and any references to rejuvenation, or whatever it is that’s been done to Spock.”

Determination took the edge off Uhura’s unease. Kirk had just given her a way of fixing this. “Consider it done,” she said with a curt nod.

McCoy scowled and muttered, “A goddamn fountain of youth?” Realizing his manners a moment too late, he snapped a look of rebuke to Uhura.

Too intent on the matter at hand to have noticed Bones’ distraction, Kirk said, “I’m not ruling anything out. Between the two of us, we’ve seen enough to know anything’s possible.”

When it became clear that a few cusses were the least of Lieutenant Uhura’s troubles, McCoy turned his attention back to Jim. “A punk from Iowa promoted to captain, I thought I’d seen everything.”

Kirk grinned. “The briefing is in an hour, give or take. I’ll comm you.”

“Like hell. You’re parking your ass in bed and staying there ‘til I say otherwise.”

Kirk reflexively rubbed the back of his neck. He’d never pulled rank on Bones before, but he’d anticipated having to do it at some point. “Bones, sore muscles don’t earn me another day in here.”

“How about your shin that was shattered all to hell? You’re listing to your right. Don’t pull this crap on me.”

Spock pointed out the flaw in Jim’s logic. “Your protests are illogical. One cannot expect their physical form to mend faster than medically possible.”

Kirk looked pale and waiflike in dark navy scrubs. He hadn’t had much weight to spare before he’d gone traipsing through the woods. He felt it behind his stomach, a concave feeling like his insides were twisted around and eating themselves. He took a moment to assess the stiffness in his body. The throb in his leg was the worst of it. While he appreciated everyone’s concern, he had a ship to run and a political shit storm to deal with.

“Your concerns are noted and respectfully disregarded,” Kirk said. His formal tone pulled rank. “Unless there’s something wrong with me that you haven’t told me about, I’m going to my quarters to take a real shower and play catch up with Starfleet.”

Kirk gestured for Spock and Uhura to follow him. “You two are with me. Spock you’ll need to come back here for whatever tests Bones needs to run, but you can get settled in your quarters. Uhura, I don’t think I even need to tell you what to do.”

“No, Sir,” Uhura said.

“Fantastic,” Kirk muttered with dead enthusiasm. He concealed most of his limp as he moved to the curtain’s opening.

McCoy slapped Jim’s chart on the bed. “Captain Kirk, I didn’t release you or your miniaturized first officer.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Dammit, Jim!” McCoy followed Jim through the curtain.

“Bones, it’s not like it was before. I’m not just missing a few classes.”

“Who’re you trying to impress?” McCoy threw the question out without thinking.

The line of Kirk’s shoulders stiffened and then relaxed. He gave Bones a fleeting smile. There was a vulnerable edge to his expression. “Everyone,” he said.

Dammit if McCoy’s chest didn’t tighten at the statement. The kid had earned his place and no one had the right to say otherwise. Swallowing his bluster, he said, “Have this briefing of yours and then I’m personally escorting you back here. You’re staying another night.”

Kirk nodded. “Agreed.”

“Go on, get then.”

Uhura rarely heard McCoy’s accent. He pronounced get as git. As a linguist, it aroused her curiosity. She’d have to listen more closely to pinpoint the accent’s origin. She didn’t comment on the byplay between her captain and the CMO. She knew they’d been inseparable at the academy, or so rumors had led her to believe. There had been more to their exchange than spoken words, but she didn’t know either man well enough to translate their meaningful glances and body language.

Spock stared with open interest. Human interactions were perplexing on multiple levels. Despite Dr. McCoy’s caustic remarks, the man attempted to express concern for Jim’s well being. About to ask for clarification on certain points, his observations were cut short when Dr. McCoy walked away.

ooo

As they walked along a wide corridor towards the central lift, Kirk made a grand gesture to their surroundings. “Take it in, Spock. Constitution class, heavy cruiser. Seven hundred and sixty meters of perfection. Four warp cores. She makes warp eight.”

“You’re almost as bad as Scott,” Uhura said.

“Scotty’s a better engineer for it.”

Despite Spock’s interest in the ship, his eyes remained fixed on Jim’s stride. “Jim, you are limping. I do not see the logic in leaving Dr. McCoy’s care earlier than medically advised.”

“It’s not logical,” Kirk admitted. “But it’s necessary. As I was saying, Lieutenant Commander Scott is our chief engineer.”

“I see,” Spock said in a controlled monotone. He was not in a position of authority over Jim and could not make demands based on personal concerns. He settled for trusting Jim’s judgment, though he determined to keep a close eye on the man’s physical condition.

Indulging Jim’s obvious pride in the ship, Spock observed the bright paneled walls. Blips and beeps filtered from around corners, crewmen passed with amicable salutes and wide eyes when they caught sight of him. His presence was an abnormality to them, an aberration. The solid weight of a warm hand came down on his shoulder. He darted Jim a look of barely concealed surprise. Before he could question the touch, the hand was gone.

“It’s a lot to take in. If there’s time later, I’m sure Uhura can give you a tour.”

“Sir?”

“Show him your department. Better yet, stop by the labs and check out the long range sensors. It’s tech you probably haven’t seen.”

Spock considered Jim’s suggestion and came to the abrupt realization that he was fifteen years into the future. There was a universe of technological advancement and scientific discoveries to study.

“It can pick up readings from almost two parsecs away,” Kirk said.

“Indeed? I have studied the mechanics of sensors capable of obtaining readouts from the distance of a single parsec. I am curious to determine how improvements have been engineered.”

“I’m not a mechanic,” Uhura deadpanned.

“Spock can figure it out himself. That’s half the fun.”

They reached Spock’s quarters. Kirk gestured to the door down the hall. “My quarters are next to yours. I’ll be in there.”

Spock tensed, a protest on the edge of his tongue. He wanted to join Jim.

Concern evident in her voice and expression, Uhura asked, “Spock, are you okay?”

“I am well, Lieutenant.”

Uhura paused before keying Spock’s code. “You can call my Nyota.”

“Indeed?” Spock intoned, his eyes on Jim’s form disappearing into the captain’s quarters.

“Of course.”

“If that is your preference, I have no objections.”

A funny expression overcame Uhura’s face. When Spock looked to her for permission to enter his own quarters, she forced a smile and gave the go ahead.

ooo

“Hold the lift,” Kirk called out. He laughed when a small hand darted out two feet lower than he would have expected. Spock held the lift for him, though Uhura’s hand was already extended towards the panel to do it the proper way. “Thanks,” he said and threw them both a smile.

Spock wore the standard uniform of black boots, pants, and long sleeved undershirt. The dark clothing made his skin paler by contrast. It suited him.

“I see you visited the quartermaster.”

“Is it suitable?” Spock asked.

“You look good in uniform,” Kirk assured. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Uhura’s lips twitch.

Spock stood straighter at the compliment. When Jim attention was on the lieutenant, he discreetly observed the man’s changed appearance. Jim was in uniform again, appearing clean and professional. He looked every bit a captain, despite his youth and frequent smiles.

“Going up?” Uhura asked, already selecting the bridge.

“I figure I should sit in on this meeting that the captain’s having,” Kirk said.

Uhura shook her head, but couldn’t help a smirk. She didn’t want to encourage Kirk, but even his corniest jokes had a way of hitting good notes. “I’ll join you after I take Spock back to sickbay,” she said.

For a thoughtful moment, Kirk stared at Spock. “He should come,” he settled on.

Disbelief apparent, Uhura faced Kirk. “Captain?”

Kirk regarded Spock. “I’m going to explain what the happened on Thelos and you’re the only other living witness.” He looked away, feigning interest in the bright panel at the side of the door. He didn’t want to reveal how much Carter and Folsen’s deaths affected him.

“Dr. McCoy needs to run more tests,” Uhura said.

“He’s already on the bridge.”

Though Uhura wanted Spock safe in sickbay surrounded by doctors all working to fix him, Kirk had a point.

Spock studied Jim’s profile. As if sensing him, Jim turned and caught his gaze. He expected the smile he received, but was surprised by the hand that reached out and grasped his shoulder. He looked at the hand and then Jim.

“Are you up for it?” Kirk asked.

“My participation in the proceedings is logical.”

Kirk made his meaning more pointed. “The bridge crew knows you. I can’t predict how they’ll react, but if you’d be more comfortable somewhere else, you don’t have to come.”

“I am not affected by the feelings of others, nor do I seek to avoid an encounter based on personal comfort.”

Kirk gave Spock’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Got it. I’ll stop questioning what you can handle.” If Spock could handle being shot at, he could certainly handle a few bug-eyed stares from the crew.

The lift doors opened and Jim’s hand disappeared. Spock’s shoulder felt cold in its absence.

Walking onto the bridge of the Enterprise was like walking into a sound proof room. There was a sudden hush of emotion. Spock surveyed the area, tempted to lower his shields and see what he picked up. Out of respect, he kept his mind guarded. He realized that the reason for such muted projections was due to the intenseness of everyone’s focus. Humans, a species notorious for broadcasting their every emotion and never ordering their thoughts, were currently bent over consoles and studying screens with the same strict attention that Vulcans practiced.

Spock felt something akin to shame. He continued to harbor false expectations that were clearly based on deficient information. Humans were a constant surprise. Jim most of all.

With an even stride that sent a sharp spike up his leg, Kirk walked onto the bridge. He waved everyone back in their seats when they stood at attention.

Yeoman Rand approached and handed him a datapad. As always, her blonde hair was woven intricately atop her head.

“It’s good to have you back, Captain,” Rand said.

“And miss all the paperwork you give me?” Though Kirk’s words teased, his expression was sober and his eyes intent on the datapad. He nodded to himself as he read.

“Everyone else is gathered in the ready room,” Rand added.

“Good work. Thank you.”

“Captain,” Rand called to Kirk’s back. When he turned, she gestured to the boy. “Is that?”

Kirk drew himself straighter. Spock was too intent on the expanse of stars outside the view screen to have noticed Rand’s reaction. “You’re already acquainted with Commander Spock.”

Rand shot Uhura a horrified look. “He’s…”

“Still your superior officer,” Kirk said.

“Of course, Sir. I didn’t mean-”

“I know, Rand, relax. Feel free to spread the word.”

Rand’s shoulders slouched. “Yes, Captain.” The captain was impossible sometimes.

In the time since Vulcan’s destruction, the senior bridge officers had developed a tendency to gravitate towards one another. In a crowded mess room, they sought each other out, unthinking and uncaring that they didn’t know each other that well.

The ready room’s viewless design was darker than most rooms. It hosted a long black table and array of high backed chairs. The walls were a muted tan that made Kirk depressed.

At the far end of the room by a large panel mounted on the wall, Kirk found Sulu, Chekov, Scott, and Bones standing in a circle. A middle-aged woman with short-cropped brown hair sat alone at the table immersed in her datapad. Lieutenant Hannity was Spock’s replacement as science officer.

Everyone snapped to attention. At Kirk’s dismissal, they broke apart and took their seats. Hannity set her datapad down.

Word of Spock’s condition had already reached the core officers. Scott had been in the transporter room when Kirk had returned with the Vulcan halfling. Sulu and Chekov hadn’t seen Spock yet, which explained their less than discreet stares.

Kirk took his place at the head of the table. He gestured for Spock to sit at his right. Bones was already to his left.

Spock felt distinctly out of place when he settled in the oversized chair. He perched on the edge, back straight and hands clasped in his lap. He kept his eyes intent on the tabletop.

Fingers tapping over the onyx surface, a square shaped monitor came to life. Kirk logged in to his panel and sent his report to each person, screens lighting up in front of each of them.

“Has everyone had time to review my report?” Kirk asked.

The collective of nods told Kirk that everyone had done their homework.

Kirk opened the floor. “Are there any updates to add?”

Slouched back in his chair, arms crossed, McCoy said, “As far as fixing your first officer goes, we’re no closer than we were an hour ago.”

Kirk had figured as much.

“Are we meaning to rescue Ambassador Eldridge?” Chekov asked. He brushed a stray curl from his forehead.

Part of Kirk wanted to shrug his shoulders and say that the ambassador had chosen his own fate. It would save him a lot of trouble. Most of Kirk prayed Eldridge was still alive.

As Jim and the others discussed the situation, Spock began reading Jim’s report. Each line was more distressing than the last. Jim had not informed him of their brief captivity and subsequent escape. The statistical improbability of a successful escape was alarming. Had Spock truly allowed Jim to undertake such a dangerous endeavor? He could not imagine doing so. More troubling yet was the lack of detail involved. Jim did not specify their means of escape. Three days of their struggle to evade recapture and death had been diminished to short excerpt.

‘From an unknown region north-east of Belmar, Lieutenant Carter, Commander Spock, and myself made our way south-west to the river. Lieutenant Carter perished en route at the hands of an unidentified Thelosian rebel. Upon arrival at the river, Commander Spock and myself were fired upon by rebels from a nearby village. At that time, Lieutenant-Commander Scott and Ensign Chekov successfully determined our location and transported us aboard the Enterprise.”

Beside Spock, Uhura leaned in and asked, “Are you okay?”

Spock had been glaring at the report. Once conscious of his slip, he resumed a neutral expression and said, “I am well.”

Reddish brown hair in disarray and a finger sized smear of grease at his temple, it was clear Scott had come straight from engineering. He jabbed a finger at the table in emphasis as he said, “We’ve mixed with business we’ve no business mixing with, ye ken?”

The mere mention of the Prime Direction made Kirk’s headache flare. “We’re not here to hash out the Prime Directive. We couldn’t have made our concerns any clearer before the mission began. Let’s focus on what happens next.”

“Nothing happens next,” Sulu said, dark eyes unwavering. “Starfleet doesn’t want us doing anything until they figure it out.”

McCoy sat forward. “So we’re stuck here?”

“Essentially, yes,” Kirk confirmed. He longed for the days when the Enterprise would be too far away from Command Central to receive orders back and forth so quickly. He would be able to use his own judgment instead of consulting the Admirals and a panel of agenda pushing diplomats. “But Eldridge and the Brotherhood aren’t our only problem.”

“Aye, it’s the tot beside ye. That’s yer concern, isn’t it now?”

Spock felt curious stares, but kept his eyes on Jim.

The absence of Kirk’s smile spoke volumes on how he wanted everyone to treat the situation. “By now you’ve all heard.”

Never one to let a dragon rest, Scott said, “Thirteen is it?” His smirk was lopsided. “I’d’ve wagered ten.”

“Am I to estimate your age as well?” Spock asked, a knee jerk reaction bred by years of having his underdeveloped body made a point of mockery by his schoolmates.

A stunned silence fell.

Scott was the first to break the stillness as he gave an undignified, but wholly delighted guffaw. “I like him,” he declared.

McCoy almost looked proud of Spock’s comment and couldn’t quite hide his smile.
Everyone else was too shocked to laugh.

“I think that’s enough discussion,” Kirk said. He sat forward in his chair and folded his hands atop the table. “I’d like to thank Lieutenant-Commander Scott and Ensign Chekov for saving my ass. You’ll get your commendations when this is over.”

Chekov sputtered something in Russian, appearing stricken and then immeasurably pleased.

Scott just sat back and crossed his arms, as if he’d expected nothing less. He knew Kirk was the kind of man who appreciated a good rescue.

Head bowed for a solemn moment, Kirk continued, “I’d also note that Lieutenants Folsen and Carter performed admirably in the line of duty. And Spock did more than his fair share down there.” When he lifted his head, he looked to Scott. “Scotty, I’ll need you as my second in command. I hate to pry you away from Engineering, but since the engines are running fine, I think you can be spared.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Lieutenant Hannity, you’ve already assumed responsibility of the science department, so you’re already on task with Dr. McCoy. Figure out how to fix Spock’s age and do it yesterday.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hannity said.

Kirk gave one last passing glance around the table. “Dismissed,” he said.

McCoy and Uhura remained behind as the others filed out. Spock wasn’t about to go anywhere without Jim, so he sat and contemplated whether an apology was in order for his remark to Lieutenant-Commander Scott.

“Oh captain, my captain,” McCoy said as he stood from his seat. “Get your ass back to sickbay.”

“This is why everyone says you’re the most pleasant person to be around.”

McCoy crouched in front of Jim, his scanner already out. “How’s the leg?”

Kirk swiveled around and let Bones hike his pant leg up. “Sore,” he admitted.

“You might’ve fractured the new graft.”

Kirk set a hand on Bones’ broad shoulder. When the doctor looked up, concern evident in hazel eyes, he said, “I’m sorry.”

McCoy yanked Jim’s pant leg back down. “I’m a doctor, not a babysitter. Can I trust you to stay on bed rest?”

“If I can trust you not to run my yeoman off when she brings me updates from Starfleet.”

“I don’t want her coming in at all hours waking you up.”

“I have a job to do.”

“And it’s my job to tell your job to fuck off while you’re still recovering.” McCoy was too worked up to care about his language in front of a lady, though he knew his daddy was rolling over in his grave.

Kirk smirked. “If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was ask.”

Anger boiling over, McCoy shot upright. “Dammit, man! Can you at least act like you care about yourself?”

Unable to have this conversation in front of Uhura and Spock, Kirk avoided it with another glib remark. “That’s why I have you.”

“You have five minutes before I have someone from security haul your ass in.” McCoy stalked away.

“Captain,” Uhura began, not knowing if it was her place to comment. Her heart went out to Dr. McCoy who obviously cared a great deal about Kirk.

“It’s fine, Uhura.” Standing, Kirk took a tentative step with his left leg and winced. As usual, Bones was right. He’d need another graft and osteo-regeneration. He made his way to the door.

Uhura didn’t know if Kirk had meant that it was okay to speak on the matter or if she should drop it. Taking a chance, she called out to the captain’s back, “He’s a good friend.”

Spock trailed behind Kirk, eyes on the injured leg.

Kirk smiled, but it appeared wane. “That’s the problem,” he said.

Uhura hadn’t expected an answer. “Sir?”

Kirk was already at the door when he elaborated, “Bones has a bigger heart than most. It makes him a good doctor.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Not when your best friend has a job that puts him in danger.”

Uhura suddenly realized the meaning behind the tension she’d detected between the two friends.

“Time will tell,” Kirk said with a look that betrayed just how many worries he carried. A captain’s burden was like Atlas. He limped his way out of the room.

ooo

While Uhura detoured to the communications department with Spock, Kirk was back in sickbay.

Missives from Rand were a near constant as he finished filing paperwork and compiled his final report. He’d begun putting together a statement to deliver to the Brotherhood, which Command wanted to review. Not for the first time, he resented Starfleet’s strict oversight. He hadn’t even left drydock from Earth’s starbase when Komack had checked in on him. Considering that his very first mission had devolved into a nightmare and two dead officers, he couldn’t blame them.

If Thelos went public, he’d be on the chopping block for breaking the Prime Directive. Never mind that he wasn’t the one to make first contact or that the orders had come from Starfleet. He was the one who’d lost two men on a planet that a Federation council would say he had no business being on.

It was already the end of beta shift when Bones came around and asked when Spock would show up.

Kirk realized how much time had passed. “Let me comm Uhura.”

“I got it,” McCoy said and motioned Jim back down.

Hair tousled from repeatedly running his fingers through it, Kirk was the picture of overworked. Still in uniform, he sat cross-legged atop the covers of the biobed. Thin-framed glasses adorned his face, making his eyes appear larger through the lenses. Reading glasses at his age should have been a joke, but he’d worn them all his life. He pushed them to the top of his head and ran his thumb and forefinger over tired eyes. Bones returned a moment later.

Itching to pull out his scanner, McCoy crossed his arms to avoid temptation. He had to keep telling himself that Jim was safe. His frequent passes through bay three weren’t strictly out of professional concern.

McCoy reported what Uhura had told him. “He’s in his quarters, meditating or some such nonsense. Said she’d grab him and bring him down.”

Kirk nodded and moved to reclaim his glasses, but went suddenly still.

“What’s wrong?” McCoy hurried closer. Jim had gone pale.

“He’s alone in his quarters?” Kirk asked.

“That’s what the lady said.”

Kirk scrambled from the bed, heedless of the datapad that clattered to the floor. He took a bare second to tear his glasses from his head and toss them to the nearby chair.

“Jim, what the hell’s going on?”

“Not now,” Kirk called over his shoulder. Ignoring his leg, he sprinted out of sickbay.

As he barreled down corridors, decorum forgotten as crewmen jerked hasty salutes and watched him fly past, he arrived in time to see Uhura reach Spock’s door.

Torn between worry and anger, Kirk spoke harsher than he meant to when he addressed Uhura. “Lieutenant, you were to show him your department, not leave him alone.”

Uhura stepped back, clearly surprised by Kirk’s tone. “He needed to meditate.”

“Does he also need unfettered access to a computer?”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“He doesn’t know about Vulcan,” Kirk hissed.

It took a moment for Uhura to make the connection. “Oh god,” she said, then repeated, “Oh my god.” Hand covering her forehead, she swore a mean streak in Orion Prime. Once finished, she pinned Kirk with an accusing look. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Because that was my first concern while being shot at,” Kirk returned. “I didn’t know how long he’d be like this.”

Uhura was livid and a little bit nauseous. She eyed the closed door like it was a bomb. “Do you think he knows?”

“By now, yes.” At any age, Spock was curious to a fault.

Uhura paced away, muttering under her breath in a language Kirk didn’t recognize. When she paced back, she asked, “Do you want me to handle it?”

“No,” Kirk said, stopping himself from pointing out that she’d already done enough by leaving him alone. This wasn’t her fault. Spock would have found out eventually. “Let’s just see first.”

The room was dim, the cloying scent of incense still heavy in the air. Spock sat behind his desk, dwarfed by it. His pale features were cast in the eerie glow of the clear paneled monitor. He didn’t move or acknowledge Kirk and Uhura’s presence.

Kirk approached slowly. “Spock?” he called. The boy didn’t even blink. He just kept staring at screen in front of him.

Once close enough, Kirk saw what was onscreen. Starfleet’s public report on the Battle of Vulcan. The chilling sight of a planet collapsing in upon itself was split screened beside the text. It was an image that the Enterprise’s sensors had captured, an irony Kirk hadn’t considered when suggesting Spock study them.

With a flick of his hand, Kirk shut the monitor off. Spock continued to stare through the now empty screen, his eyes unfocused.

Kirk crouched beside Spock’s chair. Searching for what to say, he bowed his head and smoothed back his hair. When he looked up again, he was taken back to the academy, to his academic hearing. Spock had turned to face him, his eyes hard and cold.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” was all Kirk could think to say.

“Vulcan is gone,” Spock said. “My parents?” The probability that his parents had perished was high. He had yet to review the list of survivors or search his parents’ names. If he had conclusive findings that his parents were gone, then the hope he currently held would also die.

“Your dad’s fine.” Before Kirk could tell Spock where his father was, the boy followed with another question.

“What of my mother?”

Eyes downcast, Kirk floundered for any kind of response that would make the truth less devastating.

“Kirk,” Uhura said, her tone asking him to stop. She didn’t know what she wanted from the captain. She didn’t want him to say anything else, but she knew she couldn’t bring herself to break the news.

Kirk made himself form the words. “She didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

Spock stood from his seat. “You failed to inform me of the state of my home world.”

“I hoped to reverse the regression before it came to that.”

Spock’s hands fisted the material of his pants. “A logical endeavor, but ultimately flawed. You based your decision on the belief that I would experience an emotional response to the withheld information. I ask that you revise your understanding of what it means to be Vulcan and correct future behavior.”

“I’ll remember that.” Kirk cleared his throat. “Why don’t we comm your dad?”

“To what end?” There was a sharp edge to Spock’s voice, like he was seconds from lashing out.

“He can tell you what happened. And I think he’d appreciate knowing what’s going on with you right now.”

“I require meditation at this time.”

Kirk studied Spock for a moment, weighing his options. “Okay,” he said. If Spock needed alone time, that’s exactly what he’d get. There was no point in restricting computer access anymore.

Kirk made his way to the door, but stopped when he realized Uhura hadn’t followed. He motioned for her to join him, but she shook her head.

Spock leveled his cold stare on the lieutenant. “I require solitude, Lieutenant Uhura. I request that you leave.”

Having been self-assured that Spock would want her there, Uhura didn’t immediately realize that she’d been dismissed. When it clicked, she strode out of Spock’s quarters at a near jog, shoulder knocking into Kirk as she passed him.

With a defeated sigh, Kirk said to Spock, “When you’re done, come to sickbay. You remember the way?”

“Affirmative.”

Lingering in the doorway, Kirk rubbed his neck. After a long moment of hesitation, he said, “Tushah nash-veh k’du. Kup du ri sa’awek.” [I grieve with thee. You are not alone.]

Kirk stepped into the hall and let the door close behind him.

Face to the wall, Uhura stood across the hallway. As if speaking to herself, she said, “He’s so different. I don’t even recognize him.”

Kirk approached warily. “You recognized him when you first saw him.”

“Because he looks the same,” Uhura snapped, making her impatience with the entire situation known.

Kirk thought it was the reverse. Spock looked different but acted the same. Then again, he didn’t know Spock like Uhura did.

Uhura sighed. “I should get some sleep.” It was already gamma shift and she’d been pulling double duty since the Enterprise had lost contact with the landing party.

“Go on then.”

“Will you keep an eye on him?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

It occurred to Uhura that amid all Kirk’s acknowledgements of everyone else’s work, his own efforts had gone unsung. “Thank you, Captain. For bringing him back.” She didn’t need to calculate the odds to know that they’d been disparagingly low. Kirk had put himself on the line to protect Spock. Two officers were dead. She was beyond grateful that Spock wasn’t counted among them.

“I did what I could,” Kirk said. Guilt surfaced as he revisited each moment and wallowed in self-doubt. Had he done everything he could? If he’d done more, would Folsen and Carter still be alive?

“I’ll send word to Ambassador Sarek. What should I tell him?”

“Start by telling him that Spock’s safe. Avoid mission details. You know the protocol and he’s been in this business longer than you and me combined, so he won’t bother asking. Our main concern is having him talk to Spock about Vulcan.”

It was no secret that Ambassador Sarek had talked Spock down the last time.

With a grim demeanor, Uhura took her leave. Kirk lingered outside Spock’s door for a few moments before hobbling his way back to sickbay, prepared for Bones’ lecture on hurting his leg yet again.

ooo

It was late when Spock finally made his way to sickbay. The corridors were dim with artificial night, lit along the footpaths. The ship felt empty. Emotions ran quiet like they had on the bridge. It was tranquil, but hollow.

Spock strode into bay three, past the knowing look of a nightshift nurse. Forgoing his own station, he approached Jim’s. He did not bother with excuses or try to understand his compulsion.

Jim was asleep. The chair had not been moved, though it now hosted a pile of datachips, a curious pair of optical lenses, and a datapad.

He debated whether to wake Jim. It was selfish to do so.

“Jim,” he called, unable to feel guilty for his self-indulgence. He felt entitled to it.

Kirk stirred and caught sight of Spock. He sat up as if hearing a klaxon. Uhura had checked on Spock before finally turning in. The boy had still been meditating. Now Spock was at his bedside, looking small and confused, as if he needed something but didn’t know what it was or how to ask for it.

Doing what his older brother had always done for him, Kirk pulled aside the blanket and offered what little space there was on the bed.

Spock took a moment to remove his boots. Jim had shed his uniform for less formal sleeping attire; a grey t-shirt and black flannel pants. At that moment, proper sleepwear was of little concern to Spock.

Like the last time, Spock used the chair as a step, careful to avoid the clutter. He did not protest when Jim pulled him closer. Instead, he shifted until his head rested against the man’s shoulder. The warmth of Jim’s body reminded him of home… of his mother.

“Vulcan is gone,” Spock said, his voice cracked with hours of disuse. He had the irrational hope that repeating the words would change their meaning.

“Fai-tor nash-veh. I’yuk-tor,” Kirk whispered. [I know. Now sleep.]


TBC…


Author’s note:

I’ve gone back and forth on this chapter. The tone, mood, whether certain points were plausible or necessary. So please, put me out of my misery and tell me what you think.

Plus, you’d save a fairy. But mostly, you’d be making me happy. ^_^

Sorry about the random Vulcan thrown in there. If you spot an error, feel free to correct me. It won’t be a common occurrence. I just wanted to establish a stronger connection between Spock and Kirk. I didn’t allude to it too heavily, but I will eventually bring up Kirk’s reasons for learning Vulcan in the first place. It won’t become relevant until much later. And no, Kirk hasn’t been harboring a secret crush on his first officer and hoping to ask him out on a date in his native tongue.

It’s been a long wait and I’m sorry to tell you that I’m a horrible updater. Anyone waiting on my next chapter of Defining Love can tell you that. The only upside is that my chapters are usually a decent length.
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