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Spock woke up in sheets wet with sweat. He didn’t usually sleep the way humans do, so “waking up” was sometimes disorienting, but he regained his bearings quickly. As his body was working at sitting up, his mind was taking inventory of his symptoms: fever, dizziness, chills, an ache in his limbs that he couldn’t quite ignore. As he sat on the edge of the bed he ran a sleeve across his forehead. He suppressed a shiver. Obviously the fever was distorting his ability to perceive temperature, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that someone had been messing with the environmental controls.
He smothered the urge to lament his situation and checked his chronometer. 04:07. The good doctor would be asleep. Good, he thought. Of course it made no difference, his obvious next course of action would be to report to sick bay. It might have been because he would be avoiding irrelevant conversations, or maybe he could blame it on his weakened condition, but he was slightly relieved that he wouldn’t be running into the doctor tonight.
“Lights to seventy percent,” he said, and tried to ignore the way the room was swaying. Although his base body temperature was not as high as full Vulcans, it was still higher than that of full Humans, at which temperature he usually kept his quarters, for their convenience. Regardless, the stark difference in temperature between his feverish body and the room was making itself known. He changed into uniform, but in the combination of disorientation and uncomfortable chills, he kept his nightshirt on underneath his regulation blue. Probably nobody noticed.
He passed very few crew members on the way to sick bay. He stood outside the range of the automatic doors and almost hesitated, but they opened with a hiss, and there stood Nurse Chapel with a bundle of papers.
She flushed. “Mr. Spock, I- I was just about to drop off this paperwork… what can I do for you?”
“It is not an emergency. I can return later,” he said, and he started to turn away.
Chapel laid a hand on his forearm. “It’s not a problem Mr. Spock, this stuff can wa-” she moved her hand down to his wrist where she could assess bare skin. “My god, you’ve got a fever! Come in here, I’ll have you looked at right away.”
Spock complied. “I remind you, Miss Chapel, that the core body temperature of Vulcans is-”
“Yes, yes, higher than that of Humans. But I’ve been a nurse for ten years, and I know a fever when I see one.”
Spock made no comment.
“Now if you’ll get comfortable on that table there, I’ll call the doctor-”
“Miss Chapel-” he paused. “Miss Chapel. There is no need to wake the doctor. If-”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Spock,” she said, “but it’s regulation.” Her voice softened. “If you’ll just lie there and get comfortable, it will only be a few minutes.” She left the room.
Spock resigned himself to raising his eyebrows in complacency. He sat on the table.
Spock’s eyes were closed, but he could hear McCoy’s voice as he entered the room.
“Alright, Spock, what seems to be the problem…”
Spock looked at the doctor. “Obviously Doctor, I am unwell.”
McCoy looked at the dark circles under his eyes and the faint green flush across his cheeks and ears. He did not attempt to contain his exasperation. “Yes, Spock, I can see that. Would you please, instead, describe for me your symptoms.”
“Of course, Doctor. But this might be easier if you are specific from the beginning.” Spock listed his symptoms.
“I see. And how long have you been feeling like this?”
“I found myself fatigued during yesterday’s bridge shift. As you know Doctor, Vulcans rarely lose consciousness while we rest, we prefer deep meditation over unconscious sleep. But when I reached my quarters, I found myself weak in such a way that sleep would remedy, so I chose to sleep. When I woke, I came here.”
“I see. Now if you would just lie down so my machines could take some readings, I’ll be about done with you.”
“As you wish, Doctor.” All of the little arrows were wildly out of the safe range, but that was normal for Spock.
“Damn you and your Vulcan readings,” McCoy said, half to himself. “Hold on one minute and I’ll check my records.”
Of course, Spock could have shown the Doctor which of the little arrows were wrong and by how much, but the dizziness was coming back, and all the measurements sort of blurred together. Besides, he didn’t really have the energy to argue. This ache in his bones was starting to smart, and some primal part of him wanted to sink down into sleep for ages and ages. He allowed himself the indulgence of closing his eyes.
“I can get you a blanket if you’ll be more comfortable,” Dr. McCoy said.
Spock hadn’t realized he’d been asleep. His eyes widened and his hands moved to push himself into an upright position.
The reaction was subtle, but it was enough to alarm the Doctor. He laid a hand on Spock’s shoulder and pushed him back into the bed. “Easy there.”
Their eyes caught each other, but by then Spock had already regained himself. If he saw the Doctor’s concern, he didn’t show it.
“Thank you Doctor, but if you would give me your diagnosis, I would like to return to my quarters.”
McCoy sighed. “Yes, Mr. Spock. That will be fine. It looks like it’s just a common virus. We probably picked it up at the last StarBase.”
Spock moved to leave.
“Now hold on just a minute. I’ve still gotta give you something for that fever.”
Spock cringed a little at the cold air as the hypo was pressed into his neck.
“Listen to me carefully, ya hear? I’m taking you off duty the next few days. And no funny business. I want you to rest, and if anything gets worse I want you to tell me. If I find out it did get worse and you didn’t contact me, you’re out for a month. Got it?”
Spock nodded.
“On the other hand, I think I’ll walk you to your quarters...”
Spock cleared his throat, which had begun to hurt. “I believe that would be unnecessary.”
McCoy hesitated. “Fine. But I’m gonna have someone check on you in a few hours.”
“As you wish, Doctor.”
Spock did not remember walking back to his quarters. The automatic doors shut with a click behind him. Stiffly, methodically, he removed his uniform and night clothes. He climbed in bed with no ritual. The chances of reaching the mental state necessary for a healing trance were… not worth calculating.
“Increase temperature by five degrees.” He pulled the covers up over his shoulder and slept the human way.
“Come on, Bones, this is Spock we’re talking about. As private as he likes to be, I think we can both understand his reasoning. Regulation says if an officer is unwell, they report it immediately. It reduces downtime, lessens the chance of an outbreak. I think he’s capable of swallowing the pride he says he doesn’t have.”
“Listen to me, Jim. We both know what he values most, and it isn’t logic. It’s that mental strength necessary to push down all his emotions, all the time. And he’s so damn stubborn that he’d sooner die than show an ounce of vulnerability.”
“Well that just doesn’t seem… logical,” the Captain said, and rubbed the back of his neck.
“It’s logical to him.”
“I think you’re overreacting. He’s surprised us before-”
“Well not like this. You should’ve seen him in Sick Bay, Jim. I’ve never seen him more…” the Doctor tried to think of the right word. “...non-combative. Look, it’s been four hours since I sent him back to his quarters. Would you just check up on him? He trusts you more than anybody.” McCoy gave Kirk a look that held a little more weight than his words.
Kirk sighed. “Yeah, Bones. Alright. You have any administrations I should give him?”
McCoy wrote down some numbers on a little slip of paper and handed it to him. “If his temperature is higher than this, give him this. If his blood pressure is lower than this, give him this,” and pressed the paper and two hypospray canisters into Kirk’s hand.
Kirk saluted with a smile. “Yes Doctor,” he said, and turned to leave.
“And Jim…”
Kirk looked back. “Yes Bones?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Go on, get outta here.”
The Captain gave him a warm look and left.
When Kirk entered Spock’s quarters, he was hit with a wall of hot, dry air. He had only been on the planet Vulcan one time, but he remembered the conditions. If he closed his eyes he could even feel the sand under his shoes. And it was dark.
“Spock? It’s Jim. I’m gonna raise the lights, okay?” He got no response from the bed. “Lights to seventy-five percent.”
Spock had covered his head with the blanket, but at the light he stirred. He sat up, slowly, letting the blanket fall into his lap. He was shirtless. “Captain,” he said, as he coolly met Kirk’s eyes.
The Captain stuttered for a moment. It was a lot to take in. His steady first officer, usually so collected, made no effort to conceal his weariness. His perfect black hair was sticking up in places, and there was a green flush across his cheeks. His chest and arms, which usually had the slightest green hue to them, were pale. They seemed weaker, somehow. Without the great Vulcan strength that usually drove them. In all, he looked… sick.
“I… the Doctor sent me to check up on you, I just need to take some measurements.”
“By all means,” Spock said, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
The machine whirred for a moment. “Okay that looks good…” Kirk spoke under his breath. “But I will need to give you this one, just to get that fever under control. Okay?”
Spock closed his eyes. “Yes, Captain.”
The room was silent except for the whirring of machines and the hiss of the hypospray. As the medicine was injected, Kirk noticed the smallest cringe on Spock’s face.
“Alright,” Kirk made a motion like brushing off his hands. “The bad part’s over.” He knelt to be in front of Spock’s face. His voice was gentle. “Spock.”
Spock slowly met the Captain’s eyes. “Yes, Captain?”
Kirk gave him a sad smile. “How are you feeling?”
Spock swallowed as though it pained him. Then he thought for a moment. “I believe I am unfit for duty.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he turned away to cough into his fist for a moment.
Kirk listened to his coughing. It sounded dry, painful. It took much of his own mental fortitude to refrain from touching his first officer, just a gentle touch on the cheek, or the shoulder, but he guessed it would be an overstep of boundaries. “Spock, you know that’s not what I meant. I mean physically. How much pain are you in?”
“It is… a controllable amount.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, Jim.”
Sometimes he thought he injected Spock’s voice with kindness only through his own imagination, but this sounded real. Either way, it broke Jim’s resolve. He placed his hand against the cheek of his friend, a couple fingers slipping under his ear to rest on his neck. To his surprise, Spock leaned into the touch, apparently to soak in the coolness of the human hand.
The moment was over soon, however, because the prolonged contact with the heat of Spock’s skin was becoming painful for Jim’s hand, and the immediate reality of the battle Spock’s body was facing broke Jim out of his reverie. He did take a moment to run his other hand through the hair on the other side of Spock’s head though, smoothing it down a little.
“That really is one hell of a fever,” Jim said, and shook his hand to cool it off. “You must feel awful.”
Spock gave no comment.
“You know, you’d be dead if you were a human.”
“A comparison between the relative temperatures is irrelevant. We are physiologically different.”
“Yes, that’s true. But humans can withstand longer durations of cold temperatures,”
“That fact is also irrelevant, because due to their greater ability to tolerate pain, Vulcans are more likely to survive a cold weather disaster event,” Spock closed his eyes again. He was starting to shiver.
“You know, I don’t fully believe you.” Jim brought the blanket up around Spock’s shoulders. Different physiology is right, he thought. The temperature of the room was still making him sweat through his uniform. “Here, how about you lie down…” He pushed him until he was relaxed against the bed. His fingers lingered at that soft part underneath his collarbone, but not long. He stood up.
He looked down at his friend, eyes closed, breathing deeply. His voice was just above a whisper. “Sleep well, Spock…”
He had already turned to leave when he felt a hand gripping his wrist. “Jim…” his eyes were still closed. “Thank you.”
Jim smiled and walked across the room. “I’ll check on you later.”