Kirk rounded another corner, eyes straining to see through the haze of
smoke. He stumbled over debris and motioned to Ensign Roberts to note
the hazard so he too didn't trip.  His eye was caught by a patch of
familiar bright blue.  He surged forward.  Spock lay, sprawled out near
a blown-out computer terminal.  Kirk dropped to his knees beside the
unconscious form.

"Ensign! Get Dr. McCoy," Kirk ordered.  The crewmen ran off back the
way they had come, his hurried footfalls uneven as they avoided
debris.

Spock lay half on his side facing the wall. Kirk reached out and
gingerly place a hand on his chest.  It was warm and it rose and fell
slowly under his touch.  Kirk almost fainted with relief.  Kirk lifted
a piece of wall trim off of an obviously broken arm and set it aside.
A soft moan escaped the Vulcan.  Kirk leaned over him, close to his
face, "Spock? It's all right. I'm here." He noticed several gashes on
Spock's face, from which the blood had completely dried.  He'd been
laying here for quite some time.

Spock's eyes blinked open and sought Kirk out. Kirk couldn't resist
smiling at him in his relief. "How bad?"

Spock's eyes darted over the wall as he assessed his injuries. "I am
stable I believe at the moment, Captain."

"I'm sorry it took so long for us to get here," Kirk said. Spock
shifted a leg. Kirk put a hand on the uninjured arm. "Don't. Lie
still."

"I did not expect you for another 35 hours, at best," Spock strained
to say. "How did you know to return?"

"Instinct," Kirk said.  A blood-smeered eyebrow tried to rise. Where
was Bones? Kirk wondered. Hurry, damnit.

"I shall give your intuition more consideration in the future,
Captain." His eyes drifted closed.

Kirk squeezed the arm under his hand lightly. A strange rumble started
in the distance and built in volume.

"Get down and cover, Captain," Spock said, with more volume than Kirk
would have thought him capable under the circumstances.

Kirk hesitated in confusion, then threw himself over the injured body
of his officer, hands and arms protecting his own head. A blast blew
through the corridor.  Debris pummeled them for an instant. Kirk sat
up, now in full military mode.  He squinted through the dust down the
corridor.  "What was that?"

"It would seem that the Irikki are still on the station," Spock
whispered.

"I have to get you out of here." He looked the Vulcan up and
down. "Can I move you?"

"I do not think there is an option," he replied.

Kirk gritted his teeth in sympathy as he stood and pulled Spock to his
feet by his apparently uninjured arm.  He then stooped and lifted the
taller man in a fireman's carry, hoping he was not seriously
aggravating any internal injuries.  He headed back down the corridor
as fast as he could smoothly carry the other.

He followed the path back toward the airlock only to turn a corner and
find a bulkhead unexpectedly sealed, blocking the path.  He looked around and
back-tracked.  Other explosions in the distance rocked the
station. Metal footfalls, definitely not Starfleet, could be heard in
the distance.  They had to hole up and wait for rescue, Kirk decided.
He spotted a utility access door on his left, and lowered a now
unconscious Spock to the floor.  He found the manual access plate and
cranked the door open and replaced the plate.

Gingerly he lifted Spock under the arms from behind and dragged him
into the access port.  Working quickly, he located the manual crank
inside and closed the door.  The port connected to the end of the
life-support utility tube.  Kirk closed the blast hatch to the tube
and jammed both crank handles with their plates so they could not be
opened from the other side.  He let go of the breath he had been
holding.  With the hatches closed there wouldn't be less air getting
in. He had to hope the crew could find Spock's distinct life-form
reading and beam them both out.  That is assuming they were not
otherwise occupied.

He turned in the dim emergency light and looked down at his first. He
slid to the floor in the cramped space and raised the other to lay
against him. It was chilly in the access space, so he carefully removed
his jacket and laid it over the warm form.  He studied
the head laying against his chest, wondering what Spock would think
of the close contact if he were awake, whether he would be
offended. Dried green blood had stiffened some of the hair on the pale
forehead. He really wasn't in any condition to care, Kirk decided.

Loud footfalls went past.  Kirk reached down to his belt and held his
phaser in a ready position.  There was silence again.  Kirk forced
himself to relax.  Spock made a small sound.  Kirk put the phaser down
beside him where he could reach it quickly and turned his attention to
the Vulcan.

Spock's eyes were half open and revealed some of the pain he was in.
Kirk's arm tightened around him instinctively.  His breathing is too
shallow, Kirk thought. He ached to get Spock safely back to the ship
and McCoy's skilled care.  Spock's head tossed slightly against his
chest. "Spock?" Kirk said, putting his hand reassuring on Spock's
shoulder.  Spock mumbled something he couldn't understand. "What is
it?" he asked, hearing more compassion in his own voice then he expected.

"Forgive...", Spock repeated with difficulty.

"Forgive what?" Kirk asked. The raven head tossed more
violently. "Spock, lie still." He made it an order.

The other stilled but he seemed to be gasping for air.  Kirk shifted
in his cramped position to try to give Spock more room.  Being careful
to move as little as possible, the broken arm laying across his
abdomen.  He stroked the other's side soothingly, "You're safe
right now, lie still," he repeated, then pulled the jacket back up
over him.

"...cannot shield.." Spock whispered, "forgive." 

Kirk could then feel it, the wraith-like thoughts on the edge of his
mind that were not his own.  "It's all right. I don't mind," Kirk
soothed.  He rested his head back against the wall and tried to clear
his mind so as not to distress Spock in his already weak condition. He
could feel heat spreading across his midsection and pain as well as a
throbbing pain in his arm.  Not his pain. Spock's head tossed again
slightly and he gasped.  The sound of it tore through Kirk. He put his
free hand against the back of the warm neck, "It's all right my
friend. It's all right. You can have my thoughts," he ventured,
trying to remember the formal phrasing he had heard Spock use in the past
in the hope that it would ease the other's concern.

It seemed to work, as the lean frame relaxed against him.  Either that
or he has exhausted himself, Kirk thought sadly.  The air grew
increasingly stale as minutes past. Spock lay still against him, no
longer fighting the unintentional meld.

Kirk must have dozed, because he woke suddenly from a surreal dream
filled with red skies and bright sand. An incredible ache of
loneliness trailed out of the dream.  Spock appeared to be asleep.
Kirk studied him from his unusually close position: the slanted brows,
the off-tone complexion.  He cared a great deal for this being
considering that he was just his officer.  Maybe he cared too much for
his own good and the good of the crew in general, he thought, but
could not seem to generate more than a momentary concern. Spock's
breathing was steady now, he noticed with relief.

Kirk looked around the inside of the hatch. His command training
urged him to take another course out of this dilemma: to not just sit
and wait for rescue.

"You should go for help, Captain." Spock said quietly from his
shoulder, catching his thoughts.

"No. I'm not going to leave you here." He reinforced his point by
shifting his hand on the narrow back in a near-caress.  He could feel
shame radiating through the errant link.  "I have a good crew. It's
about time they get a chance to prove themselves. Rescuing the captain
will do wonders for morale." He couldn't keep the wry tone from his
voice, though he tried to sound light-hearted.  

The shame didn't decrease.

He decided on a direct tact with his usually withdrawn first.  "Spock. It's
only me.  We've been together a long time..." He didn't know what to say.
What do you say to such a private being trapped in such a vulnerable position?

Spock's eyes blinked open and met Kirk's.  "You are the last person I
would wish to see me in such a weakened state."

Kirk ducked his head to meet his eyes.  "I'll still be in awe of you
later, I promise." He couldn't keep from smiling as he said this.

Spock's eyes studied his face closely. "You are not exaggerating."

"No," Kirk said simply. A rush of emotional warmth for his friend
built in him.  He struggled to contain it without success.  The wave
of emotion washed into the link.  

Realizing his complete inability to
shield, Spock relaxed and let it pass over him.  There was no distress
or pain with its contact, which surprised him.  He re-opened his eyes
to meet Kirk's concerned ones. 

"Sorry. You okay?" Kirk asked.

Spock nodded, "Yes."

Kirk moistened the edge of one gold sleeve with his mouth and wiped a dry
smear of green blood from Spock's temple and the corner of his eye.
"I would give anything to get you to McCoy right now," Kirk said,
moistening another spot on his sleeve and continuing along Spock's
nose.

Kirk's emotion was undeniable.  Spock struggled with the implications
even as he struggled to keep his physical systems stable.

"I am not certain what this emotion..." Spock stopped.  "I am not
certain what is expected of me considering the emotion I sense in
you,"  he managed.  He was more exhausted then he could ever remember
being.  The pain was a constant drain and distraction and his normally
highly responsive muscles were resisting any action.  He felt helpless
and ashamed and perhaps fearful of his own lack of understanding
of Kirk.

"It isn't something you need worry about, especially not right now,"
Kirk said, finishing cleaning the tip of the aquiline nose.

But how could he not worry, Spock wondered. His head tossed as he
struggled for control which drew what could only be described as a
carass on the back of his head and neck from Kirk.

"Still, Spock. Lie still," Kirk ordered.

Even Kirk's voice was like a carass, and some deeply buried part of
himself reached out to that warmth.  He had no strength to stop it and
it broke through to the surface of his mind.  He found himself gasping
un-controllabably as the emotion overwhelmed his weak control. It was
as if suddenly there was no air and his mind was hyperstimulated with
no particular purpose.

Kirk nearly panicked.  Spock had suddenly began gasping and spasming
as though in seizure. He shifted upright, and tightened his arms
around the spare frame, trying to envelop the other in his arms.
"Spock, Spock," Kirk said, trying to calm the other. His hands
smoothing the narrow back. Gradually the gasping eased and Kirk felt
each shudder of the other's ribcage lessen in intensity, then
stop. Spock lay limp against him. Kirk froze in terror until he felt
the gentle rise and fall of the other's breathing.

Kirk loosened his hold and lowered his head to look at him.  "What
happened?" he asked with concern.

Spock shook his head, unable to explain.

Kirk took a deep breath of the dead air and forced his shoulders to relax.  

"I do not know what is happening to me." Spock stated quietly.  Their
eyes met and for the first time Kirk looked upon the unshielded face
of his friend.  There was more of that almost innocent purity in his
eyes as well as fear.

Kirk grasped his shoulder. "Hold together just a little bit longer for
me."  Spock nodded then closed his eyes and after a minute rested his
forehead against Kirk's shoulder.  Kirk held his emotions in check and
focused his thoughts on the annoying crew reports he would have to
write when this mission was over. Everytime he looked down at the
smooth hair and elegant ears, another rush of emotion began to
build. He stared at the ceiling instead, fiercely focusing his
thoughts.

The handle to the access hatch jerked suddenly, loosening the plate
jamming it.  Kirk jumped and reached out his hand to steady it.  He
had to sit up to reach it, and Spock groaned as Kirk pulled him with
him.  //Sorry// Kirk thought at him.  There was a long pause and then
tapping on the door.  It was the security force code for all clear.
With overwhelming relief Kirk pulled the plate free.  A foreign
thought of emminent embarassment came from Spock.  Kirk gingerly
raised him out of his arms and rested him against the wall as the
crank began turning from the other side. //Better?// Kirk asked.

//Yes, thank you.// Came the reply.  

Kirk was amazed at the ease of silent communication.  The door had
opened past the jams.

"Captain?" Called an unrecognized voice as the door continued its slow
opening.

"Yes. Can you get Doctor McCoy?"  The last was cut off by a call of
youthful exhuberance that brought a grin to Kirk's face and a shake of
the head.

"Hey, I found him!" 

As the door opened, Ensign Garavic crouched in the doorway. "Is he
badly hurt, Sir?"

Kirk had his hand on Spock's shoulder and he squeezed it in support.
"I think he'll be all right, Ensign."  McCoy stepped up and crouched
beside Garavic, waving his scanner.  He blanched when he saw the
readings.

"Get me a stretcher over here!" McCoy called down the hallway.  It
arrived in a few seconds and Kirk helped him lift Spock gingerly onto
it.  McCoy and Chapel bent over him, falling into their smooth and
efficient emergency mode.

McCoy eventually looked up at Kirk, "He's too weak for the
transporter, we'll have to take him to a shuttle."






Kirk sat in his darkened quarters composing his report to
headquarters.  He hadn't actually written anything in the last half
hour.  McCoy had chased him out of sickbay with the promise that he'd
be called when Spock regained consciousness.  Kirk admitted his
complete inability to focus on anything and switched off the terminal.
He headed out of his quarters to make the rounds of all departments,
something he did after every tough mission.

About the time he approached the biolab, the comm whistled.  McCoy
summoned him to his office, not to sickbay. Kirk obsessed about that
on the lift ride up.

He entered sickbay, nodding at the various injured crewmembers.  He
collected himself at McCoy's door, then triggered it to open.

McCoy sat at his desk surrounded by handcomps and tapes.  He looked up
as the door opened. "Oh, yeah, Jim.  Have a seat."

"How is he?" Kirk asked as he pulled a chair over.  It occured to him
that some part of him was in standstill and needed the answer to that
in order to start moving through time again.

"Well..." McCoy began, then looked for something on his
desk. Something knotted in Kirk's abdomen. "He's in rough shape, but I
think we can pull him through. With the head injury we can't let him
enter a healing trance."  He looked up at Kirk finally noticing the
tense, leaning forward posture and fearful eyes.  "You all right,
Captain?"

Kirk sat back carefully and seemed to recover some poise. "Yes. Just
... worried."

McCoy studied him in silence and decided to let it sit.  "He's awake
if you want to go see him.  Room 1."

Kirk sensed a test. He nodded. "The rest?" He asked, indicating the
room behind him with a tilt of his head.

"We only lost Smyth. Everyone else will be out of here within the
week."




Spock stared at the sickbay ceiling.  The observation room was
pleasantly warm.  He meditated on his loss of control.  He felt in
control now, though still weak. The moment of breakdown seemed
implausible now.  He steadied himself and reached into that
inexplicable core of hunger that had overwhelmed him.  It still
seethed.  He withdrew and shook himself.  He had control.

The door slid open.  He recognized the footfalls of the Captain.  He
turned his head slightly to look at him as he stepped up to the edge
of the bed, hands behind his back.

"How are you doing?" Kirk softly asked.

"Much improved, Captain."  Something inside himself
stirred at Kirk's presence, the hunger and something else.

"McCoy says he expects you to pull through."

Spock nodded.

"Need anything?"

Spock shook his head.

"I'll let you rest now and check in on you later." 

Spock nodded again and listened to Kirk's departing footsteps and the
swish of the door.  He considered that the head injury may explain his
weak control.  That thought eased his mind, it seemed a logical
conclusion. Some errant part of him wished