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Two days in sick bay sounds like a nightmare, and while Jim is accustomed to a certain amount of nightmare in his daily life...this is the not the kind he’s equipped to deal with. He can’t do lounging, he doesn’t do sedentary, his body aches to move. The problem is that Bones refuses to speed up the healing process – somewhere deep inside, Jim knows he could do it. Knit him back together with all of that fancy equipment, send him on his way with a lollipop and a request to stay out of trouble but he won’t. He won’t because he’s mad at Jim for not taking his health more seriously, maybe. Mad at him and taking this opportunity to remind him that he can be felled like a tree. A really strong tree, he thinks.
He lasts one full afternoon without complaint but by the time Bones is bringing him his evening meal he’s practically vibrating out of his skin. The biggest problem is that he tries to get up when Bones leaves and his head swims dangerously, his chest constricts and he has to lay back down and accept that Bones is right. He’s not well.
But the next morning he feels a little less frail. Not by much, just enough to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and sit upright. It isn’t until he presses his feet to the floor that his head swims, that he feels sick to his stomach, that the pain in his ribs crushes him. He won’t lay back down though, he just ducks his head, tucks his chin into his chest, and breathes through it.
“Jim? What are you doing?”
“Testing my boundaries, Bones.”
“Just like a toddler.”
“Yes,” Jim replies coolly, breathing through another wave of dizzy fog. “Exactly like a toddler.”
“And how is that going for you?” Bones asks, quirking one eyebrow. Jim sighs and grips the edge of the bed.
“Just dandy.”
“Lie down before you fall out of bed. Scotty wants to take you to examine the damage to the engine room after you’ve eaten...I’ll allow it if you seem up to it. Now get back in bed and rest.”
That sounds hopeful and Jim can’t help it, he scoots back into bed and relishes the relief it brings. He’ll never admit to that, though. Bones would never let him live it down.
The food is bland, tasteless, a healthy mix of vegetables he’d rather not eat and some grains he’d prefer not to even share a room with. His meal was the mirror image of Spock and Sarek’s, and both of them seemed perfectly content in their own ways to dig in while he poked and picked and groaned.
“A healing body needs nutrients,” Bones admonishes, taking Spock and Sarek’s dishes while Jim isn’t even half finished. He’s not hungry, that’s part of it. The pain has come back something fierce and his chest is on fire. It makes eating unpleasant.
Scotty comes to get him before he’s finished with his meal and he’s all the more glad for it. When he hands his tray to Bones, it’s hard for him to hide the look of satisfaction on his face at not having to finish it.
“Oh don’t look so proud of yourself, Captain,” Bones says, really digging in on that last word. “I’ve got a very special dinner planned for you.”
“I can’t wait.”
The ship took a lot of damage during its fight with the Orion ship, and Jim hasn’t even been able to see it. He can feel her pulling and working harder than necessary to keep up the course to Babel and as Scotty helps him out of bed, he’s filled with a feeling of anticipation not easily hidden. He loves this damn ship and he knows its silly to feel like his presence in her engine room is going to somehow fix anything but that’s just the way he is sometimes. The Enterprise is a part of him.
“One hour.”
“Oh, I won’t need ‘im that long doc. Just gimme ten minutes an’ I’ll have him back.”
Jim can’t help but feel disappointed at that, but it’s probably for the best and he thinks he can probably swing fifteen or twenty with the right maneuvers. Scotty doesn’t say no to him often.
His plans go awry almost immediately, when it’s completely obvious to Scotty that he should still be in bed. That he’s in no shape to be walking the corridors of the ship. His knees nearly buckle twice on the way to the engine room. He’s actually a little surprised it’s not more, the way he feels. His head is heavy and swims dangerously and more than once he grabs hold of Scotty’s arm for support. There aren’t many people he’d be comfortable reaching for in such a way, but Scotty had always held a place of some import in Jim’s life and he knows he wouldn’t be where he was without the man by his side. This man who understood his ship in the most intimate way, and therefore seemed to understand Jim in much the same.
“Aye, Cap’n, you’re worse’n I feared.”
“Really? You thought I’d be up skipping around after taking a knife to the lung?” There is a sheen of sweat on his brow but he smiles through the pain and Scotty follows suit, appreciating the back and forth for what it was. It’s friendship at its simplest, a sarcastic game of cat and mouse to keep Jim from thinking too much about his predicament or his ship. Scotty is happy to provide that kind of relief.
“No, I spose not but I never seen ye quite this bad. I’ll only be keepin’ ya a second.”
“You’ll be keeping me as long as is necessary, Scotty. I need to know what’s wrong with my ship.”
The engine room is busy, buzzing with engineers and tricorders and sounds that hurt Jim’s head. He maintains a carefully neutral look on his face as he enters behind Scotty, his hands at his sides. He can show some of that vulnerability to Scotty, to his closest friends, but not to the crew. He stiffens as he walks, his back going painfully straight and smiles and nods and greets the crew as they pass him.
“There was some damage, Cap’n. Some things as need fixing that’ll take longer’n we have to give, but we won’t make it to Babel in time if I shut down the systems. What do ye want me to do?”
“Did you need me to come down here just to give you permission to do your job, Scotty?” Jim asks, a little sharper than he intends. He reminds himself that he wanted to come, he was looking forward to the adventure of being out of sickbay. It hasn’t gone the way he’d hoped but that isn’t Scotty’s fault.
The sheepish smile Scotty gives him nearly melts him on the spot. “Truthfully, I just thought you might like to get out an’ have a walk. You never been much for lyin’ in bed.”
Jim smiled. “Certainly not, but I do think I should have stayed -”
He’s cut off before he can finish damning himself to sanity by a sudden rocking beneath his feet and the lights going out. Where there had been the soothing white noise of engines purring and the whirring and beeping of machinery suddenly goes silent. Eerie silence and darkness. Scotty’s hand flies to Jim’s arm, a protective measure that’s as instinctive as it is purposeful. The ship gives another cough, this time punctuated by a powerful lurch and they both lose their footing. Jim is a little too easily knocked off of his feet as they were barely beneath him to begin with. He flies backward, landing with a thud against the floor. Scotty isn’t sure if it’s Jim’s body or his head that hits but the sound makes him feel sick. Somehow, Scotty manages to remain upright and as soon as the ship rights itself and settles, he feels around in the darkness until he finds the Captain trying to scramble upright.
“Stay still. Ye alright Cap’n?”
“I’m fine,” Jim says, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. He grabs for his chest and presses hard where the wound is healing, unable to stifle the gasp that follows. “Are we alone?”
“Quite,” Scotty replies. “Doors’ll be locked for some time. Emergency protocol. Let me see.”
Scotty has a light on him, a small little thing he keeps on hand that resembles an old Earth flashlight but isn’t nearly as finnicky. It glows dim but he can see Jim in its beam looking tired and pained. It twists in his stomach.
He tends to Jim with the little pen light between his teeth, checking the wound on his back for tears. It’s not bleeding, but he remembers Bones talking about internal bleeding and that’s so far beyond his scope of ability that he can only hope for the best. His crew will get things righted in no time, of that he has faith. The rest is just waiting.
There are noises outside, small noises that don’t sound like his men though. Clicking noises. Scurrying noises. Probably just the death rattle of machinery that’s given up the ghost, whatever was damaged in the attack waving the white flag. If he could focus on that instead of Jim he might already have an answer, but Jim’s breathing is raspy and labored and maybe Jim isn’t worried but Scotty sure as hell is.
The wheezing of Jim’s damaged lungs and the sounds from outside the door make him think about home, about rats in the drain pipes and ghost stories.
Scotty props Jim up against a wall and sits beside him, not saying a word when Jim slouches against him. Unable to hold himself upright another minute, in the dark he can pretend it isn’t weakness. It’s only them. Scotty has seen him worse.
“Reminds me of stories I heard growin up, about haunted castles hundreds of years old.” He says it so softly, like Jim had been thinking the same thing he was. Unlikely but it gave him some comfort.
“No such thing as ghosts,” Jim replies, though he secretly hopes that Scotty will share the stories anyway. He’s woozy and the pain in his side that started in his ribs is creeping down his spine now, settling in around his hips.
“No, I spose not...though there was this one time…” and that’s all it takes for Scotty to recline his head and smile into the darkness as he regales Jim with stories of gray ghosts on the moor, green ladies starved to death by husbands, old Earth ghost cars and grim reapers. He’s got so many stories up his sleeve that Jim almost falls asleep listening to the soothing cadence of Scotty’s voice.
It’s Bones and Spock when the door opens, Spock who seems weak but okay as he crouches down beside Jim and shows what his mother would call his human side. “Captain,” he says, quickly followed by something quieter. Softer. “Jim. Are you alright?” He seems almost worried and Jim can hardly contain his pleasure at seeing the Vulcan beside him.
“I’m ship shape, Spock. Thank you.” Spock looks around at the engine room in a state of complete disarray and smiles, noting Jim’s weak attempt at a joke. Yes, he supposes that Jim being in danger does bring out his human side. He can’t help it.
It’s Spock that walks with Jim back to sickbay while Bones tends to some of the injured that were caught down in the engine rooms when the ship stalled out.
“Spock,” Jim says with a small smile, noting the way Spock walks a little too close to him. Like he’s worried something is going to happen again. He’s already been unable to come to Jim’s aid twice in the last two days, he won’t let it happen again. “Why didn’t you tell me that Sarek was your father?”
“I believe I did, Captain.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before they arrived?”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“Well for starters, I might have been able to save you some grief had I known. I believe I put my foot rather spectacularly into my mouth more than once and would prefer to have been better prepared.”
“It would have been unethical to expect my rank or relationship with you to inform the way you greet anyone aboard this ship.”
Jim opens his mouth to lob another thought Spock’s way, but he quickly decides he doesn’t have the energy to continue the argument. Spock made his choices and things worked out the way they did and save stepping into a time machine for a do over, he would have to accept the outcome.
“Has Bones cleared you to return to your post?” Jim asks, slowing a little as they near sickbay. He’s not eager to get back into bed, even as weak as he feels.
“He has. I thought perhaps I may take dinner with you and my parents, though, if it would be permitted.”
Jim waits until they’re back in sickbay, until Spock is helping him back into bed with a tenderness that isn’t lost on Amanda and Sarek across the room before he answers. Amanda smiles and feels a flush rise in her cheeks, and when she looks down at her husband she sees the simple look of fondness there too. He isn’t able to hide it.
“You may have your dinner here with us,” Jim says, shifting uncomfortably against the stiff pillows. His back aches something terrible after the fall. He smiles up at Spock in spite of the pain, as if he could find a reason to deny Spock this one indulgence. “If you promise not to let Bones feed me any more rabbit food. I need sustenance, Spock. Real food.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I suppose it was only logical,” Amanda whispers to Sarek while Spock tends to Jim’s comfort, and he smiles and nods in appreciation. He has no argument.
“You may be right.”