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Say It if You Mean It (3/50?) (TBC)

Title: Say It if You Mean It
Fandom: Star Trek (2009)
Author: Nnej 
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Star Trek XI would have ended with homosmex. But it didn't. So I don't
Pairing: Spock/Kirk, Spock/Uhura (and a little more on the horizon, but I aint spoilin' it).
Warnings: Naughty words, het!yay, homo!yay, and don't wear white after Labor Day
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Spock thought she was dead; he was sure she was dead. But here she was--T'Pring-- on the USS Enterprise. With what she has planned, he's going to wish she had died.
A/N:  proudcockatrice is the the beta of the gods. Serve him ambrosia. As for me? SERVE ME COMMENTS! They seriously help motivate me, and I get few :( This chapter is dedicated to all my commenters. I love and adore you all :D.

“Has the captain regained consciousness, Doctor?”

                “No…not yet. Goddamn it, what was he thinking?!”

                The room was silent. Jim, unbeknownst to his friends, was starting to come to. His head felt as though there were sandbags pressing on it. He had no idea where he was, but the lights above his head hurt too much for him to open his eyes to look. Barely awake, he lay there listening to Spock and Bones talk about him.

                “It has been my experience that the captain’s motives often defy explanation,” Spock answered McCoy plainly.

                “It was a rhetorical question,” McCoy all but snapped back.

                “I was aware of that fact. It was my intention to provide some levity to the situation at hand.”

                Levity?! My best friend practically killed himself!”

                “Shhhh…Too loud,” Jim finally managed to mumble out. His mouth felt like someone had shoved cotton into it.

                “Jim! You’re awake!” McCoy yelled, rushing to his friend’s side.

                “Ugh… Unfortunately, yeah. Seriously though… you’re too loud.”

                “You’re lucky I’m not playing goddamn opera and shining a strobe light in yer eyes! Half a bottle of Romulan Ale?! Were you trying to die?”

                Jim finally opened his eyes. McCoy’s face looked tired. Spock stood some distance behind the doctor, looking stiff, but otherwise fine. Jim inspected the room, trying to place where he was. It was hard for him to focus on it clearly, but the blurs didn’t seem to be familiar. It was obviously a house of some sort, but that was all he could tell. He seemed to be in the living room, sprawled out on the couch. On the floor next to him was an empty bucket. A sudden churn in his stomach let him know that it wouldn’t remain empty for long.  A mechanical patch on the back of his hand buzzed softly. Jim recognized it instantly as a Rehydration Patch and, by the looks of it, it was almost depleted. He searched his memory for how he had gotten here. Last thing he remembered was being in a bar. Everything else was a haze.

                “You gonna answer me?” McCoy pressed, less angry and more concerned this time. Spock, too, took a step forward, interested in Jim’s answer.

                “It wasn’t a half a bottle,” he deflected gracelessly.

                “That fact is irrelevant to the current line of questioning,” Spock cut in, his eyes narrowed in a sort of subtle, disbelieving way. “Doctor McCoy has asked you whether your intentions tonight were motivated by suicidal ideation. Your reluctance to answer implies the affirmative.”

                Jim knew that it ‘implied the affirmative’, but that wasn’t why he was avoiding the question. At the beginning of the night, he had just been drinking to drown out some of his pain. But, after ordering the four glasses of Saurian Brandy? After chasing all of that down with who knows how many shots? He couldn’t say that all of that self -destructive behavior was just him looking for some comfort at the bottom of a bottle. But, he also couldn’t say he was trying to end it all either. In truth, Jim couldn’t answer McCoy’s question because he wasn’t sure what the answer was.

                “I knew I wouldn’t die,” Jim said finally, trying his best to sound cocky and self-assured.

                “You drank enough to put down a full grown Klingon! If that bartender hadn’t called Spock when she did, you would hav-”

                “She called you?” Jim interrupted, turning to Spock with a confused look on his face.

                “As your first officer, I am your primary emergency contact,” he explained coolly.

                “Mistake if ya ask me… I shoulda been the one called. I’m your CMO, your personal physician, not to mention your best friend. Besides, I got to ya years before Ol’ Pointy Ears here…” McCoy grumbled.

                “34.7 minutes is not ‘years’, doctor,” Spock replied tersely. “I transported back to my shuttle immediately, that I might most quickly render my assistance with the captain.” That the journey back to earth had been one of the longest half-hours of his life remained unsaid. “You had barely stabilized him when I arrived. Furthermore, without my assistance, relocating him here would have taken at least an hour.”

                Jim felt guilty and more than a little embarrassed. He had pulled Spock away from Uhura and their grieving to take care of his stupid, drunk self. He tried to sit up a bit to talk to his friends better, but a strong surge of nausea hit him the minute he was upright, replacing what he was going to say with dry heaves over the bucket. McCoy made a disgusted noise and pulled out a tricorder, passing it over Jim as he tried in vain to throw up something other than air.

                “I suppose there’s something to be said for drinking on an empty stomach; not much left for you to hurl up now.”

                “Lucky me…”Jim said weakly back, leaning back, feeling sicker than he had in quite some time. McCoy passed his tricorder around Jim’s head a few times, clicking his tongue disapprovingly at whatever he was seeing on the read-out. The gentle ‘pings’ of the machine awakened something urgent in Jim’s mind, but it faded as quickly as it came; an echo disappearing in a deep cavern.

                “I don’t know how you were even conscious long enough to drink this much,” McCoy mumbled more than said, pocketing the tricorder. The lights above Jim hadn’t dimmed any and were making his head split in pain. He leaned forward to shade his eyes a bit, but the motion only sent him into another fit of dry heaves.

                “Not to sound ungrateful for you obviously saving my life,” he said breathlessly, in between the unproductive retches, “but don’t you have something for this? Something medicine-y? And strong? Preferably strong enough to knock me out?” Jim asked desperately. McCoy muttered that he should just let Jim suffer as he got up and left the room for the medicine. Alone with Spock, Jim let out a sigh.

                “I’m sorry…” He started, looking over at his first officer as best he could. Mercifully, Spock walked closer, into the space where McCoy had just been in, next to the couch.

                “I am uncertain as to what you are apologizing for,” Spock replied back. Jim took a few deep breaths to steady himself before laying back down on the couch.

                “I dunno… everything I guess. I’m sorry I got wasted and pulled you away from Uhura. I’m sorry for interrupting your short reprieve. I’m sorry for…” Jim couldn’t bring himself to say it. He just couldn’t say to Spock, ‘I’m sorry for what happened a year ago’. It was too personal. It was too painful. Jim let the words hang unspoken between them.

                “There is no need to apologize for ‘pulling me away’ from Uhura. She and I parted shortly after the ceremony.”

                “Really?” Jim had sworn he had seen both of them get into the rented shuttle together.

                “Yes, Captain. I suggested she remain with her relatives in Eastern Africa while I went to the Vulcan colony to meet with my Father.”

                “That’s kinda far for a day trip.”

                “It seemed… an appropriate place to spend my time,” the words came out thick and forced. Jim watched Spock carefully. The area around his eyes looked tense as he struggled with himself, obviously trying to maintain control. Jim decided to help the only way he could think of: he kept talking.

                “Uhura didn’t want to go with you?”

                “I am unsure of her desires in the matter; it was my suggestion that she not accompany me. I was not expecting my visit to be a pleasant one. It would have been unfair to force her into what would most likely be an uncomfortable evening.”

                Jim was confused, “But…that’s what relationships are for. You’re supposed to be there for each other.”

                “I do not agree with your assessment.”

                “It’s not an ‘assessment’! It’s just a truth.”

                Spock narrowed his eyes, “Forgive me, Captain, but given your current reputation with partners, I do not consider you to be an expert in the nuances of long term relationships.”

                Ouch. Jim wasn’t quite sure that he had deserved that sort of shut-down remark. Spock looked almost embarrassed a moment before ducking his head respectfully.

                “My apologies, Captain. My response was unwarranted.”

                “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have been butting into your business anyways,” Jim said back, not as genuinely as he had wanted to sound.

                Spock considered for a second. “Given the fact that moments ago, I called into question your mental stability, I believe your comment about relationships was not crossing any established barriers between us.”

                Jim laughed for a moment before realizing with a groan that laughing made his already pained head almost split apart. Nausea awakened with renewed vigor in his stomach. Jim breathed deeply, trying to contain it, mostly in vain.

                “Are you alright, Captain?”

                “Uuuuuugh… I think I’m going to puke.”

                “If that is the case,  it would be best if you cease lying on your back, lest you aspirate your stomach contents. I can assist, if necessary.”

                “Uuugh… I’m never drinking again.”

                “I find the veracity of that statement dubious…” Spock said softly, almost inaudibly. Jim would have commented or laughed or teased, but he felt that familiar cramp in his stomach that meant it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take Spock’s advice and get off his back. He tried to sit up but found himself suddenly too weak to do so. Not wanting to push his body, Jim settled himself back down and tried to collect his strength.

                “Where am I?” he finally asked, distracting himself for the moment.

                “Doctor McCoy’s residence. The bartender at the establishment in which you spent your evening alerted Medical to have you transported to a hospital. I contacted Doctor McCoy and he arrived promptly to assist with the situation. It was he who stabilized you. It was also he who suggested that your previous condition would lead to professional embarrassment, were you to be admitted to a hospital, as that would alert Starfleet.”

                “So, he brought me to his house instead?” Jim looked around, eyes a bit clearer now. Sure enough, the place was now becoming recognizable.

                “He convinced the responding medical team that he was fully qualified to handle your condition and that it was unnecessary for you to be admitted into any medical facility. They did not concur immediately, but Doctor McCoy was…persuasive.” 

                “How bad was I?” Jim managed to ask, struggling to lift his torso off the pillow. Even after the time he spent bracing himself for the move, he was unable to sit up. Spock walked over to the couch and with barely any effort at all lifted Jim by the shoulders so that he was upright again.

                “Your blood-alcohol level was…extremely high,” Spock said in lieu of actually answering the question.

                “Extremely high? So….what… Did I wet myself? Throw up? What happened?”

                Spock took a deep breath and cast a quick glance toward the door. “Doctor McCoy requested that I refrain from telling you the extent of your condition. He was unsure what effect knowing would have on your mentality. However, I feel it would be in your best interests to know how your drinking damaged your body. Hopefully it will lead to you abstaining from repeating this behavior in the future or at the very least, drinking in a more responsible mann-”

                “I’m ready to throw up everything I’ve eaten in the last year. Can you get to the point?” Jim interrupted petulantly, resting his head back and breathing deep to relax his body.

                “My apologies. Your blood alcohol level when we found you was point three four. I am unsure if you are aware of the bodily effects that volume of alcohol has.”

                Jim wasn’t positive, but he knew from school and from run ins with the law that above .35, people died. And he had almost been there.

                “I don’t know the specifics… But, I know that’s bad,” Jim confessed. “What happened to me?”

                “When Doctor McCoy first responded, he was… uncertain if you were breathing.” Spock said that softly, almost gently. Jim tried not to let that comment affect him. So what if he had almost depressed his central nervous system to the point of stopping his breathing? No biggie. A cramp in his lower stomach made him burp a little, wetly. Unlike the other heaves, Jim knew this time, something was getting purged from his system. His pulse picked up in his temples and his face turned green with illness.

                “Did I actually stop breathing?” Jim wanted clarification, and wanted it quickly.

                “For a moment, only. Doctor McCoy had brought medicine for just such an occurrence and was able to restart your respiratory functions almost immediately after they ceased. He was also able to raise your heart rate to acceptable levels and repair the damage to your liver.”

                Jim could feel the bile in his throat rise dangerously high. “I really did almost kill myself, didn’t I?”

                “Had Steda not alerted Medical and myself when she did, you breathing could very well have ceased before anyone qualified to assist you had arrived. And, were that the case, your body would have been deprived of oxygen for an extended period, possibly damaging your brain or other vital organs to lethal levels.”

                “So, your answer is ‘Yeah, you did, ya jackass’, right?”

                “Those were not my words. The sentiment behind them, however, is accurate.” Spock sat on the couch next to Jim, his face hard and stoic, but his eyes softened with genuine concern. “I would consider it a personal favor it if you did not return yourself to such a state again.”

                “I already told you…”Jim positioned himself above the bucket, letting out another wet sounding burp, “I’m never drinking again.”

                And with that, Jim threw up what ended up being mostly just green liquid. After heaving a few times, Jim leaned back again, only to find Spock’s hand pressed against his back. Without Jim even asking, the Vulcan provided the explanation.

                “It was my understanding that, when physically ill, humans enjoy physical contact with another as a way of consolation.”

                “Maybe when they’re ten. I’ve puked many, many times, Spock. It’s not that bad anymore.”

                Spock pulled his hand away immediately looking sheepish for a fleeting moment. Jim immediately backpedaled, “I do appreciate the gesture though. Thanks, Spock. It did make me feel a little better.”

                Spock nodded respectfully, face returning to its normal, emotionless mask. It was only a few more minutes before McCoy came back, hypospray in hand, and pumped Jim full of so many different drugs, the man felt drunk all over again. He also replaced the Rehydration Patch with a fresh one and Jim sighed, feeling immensely improved.

                “Y-y’should bottle that stuff n’ sell it, Bones,” Jim said as he lay back down.

                McCoy didn’t reply, just mumbled under his breath and used his tricorder to monitor his friend’s vitals. Jim closed his eyes and listened to the pings of the machine again.

                “Ping, ping, ping…” Jim said in a sing-song way. McCoy smacked him on his head.

                “You’re not allowed to be in a good mood! You’re damn lucky to even be breathing!”

                “So I heard…”

                “Goddamn moron. Four in the morning and, instead of getting some needed rest, I’m here takin’ care of your idiot ass.”

                “Send a nurse next time…” Jim suggested, head bopping along to the ‘pings’ again.

                “Yea, like there are any left on the ship that’ll wanna be around you when you’re drunk. Don’t forget, that’s why Nurse Janis left.”

                Suddenly and with shocking clarity, Jim saw in his mind the face of a woman. She was both familiar and not at the same time.

                “The Vulcan….” He said softly, trying to remember why she was important.

                “What? What are you babblin’ about now?”

                “At the bar…” he remembered slowly, “a Vulcan woman came t’ talk t’ me…”

                “For any particular reason?” Spock chimed in from behind the couch. Jim could hear him walking slowly back and forth.

                Jim tried to think about what she wanted. He couldn’t piece it together with so many dark spots in his head still. He remembered hearing her and only her; a bright voice in the middle of silence.

“She made the music stop…” Jim said reverently.

“He’s outta his mind,” Bones reasoned, going back to his tricorder.

Ping, ping, ping. The noise went into Jim’s head and suddenly a piece of the memory came back in a flash.

“Ping. No, Pring! T’Pring! Her name was T’Pring.”

There was a sharp, scuffing noise from where Spock was. Jim couldn’t see it, but he assumed it had been from his first officer stopping dead in his tracks. McCoy noticed right away.

“You know her?” he asked Spock.

“I… I am acquainted with a Vulcan female by the name of T’Pring.”

“You could have just said ‘Yes’, you know,” McCoy grumbled.

“Hey! This is cool then, yeah?” Jim started. “Now you got a buddy on th’ ship!”

There was no response from Spock. Jim tried to remember more about T’Pring. She had asked him something when he was drunk. The conversation like a thick smoothie and his brain an undersized straw. The pieces that came back were small and unclear. The more he tried to focus on it, the more the entire memory melted away. He remembered her face because of how beautiful she had been. He remembered her asking him something that couldn’t wait. He remembered agreeing to what she asked. Everything else was nebulous and (he suspected) made up mostly from his imagination rather than from the actual event.

“Can you recall anything specific from your conversation with…T’Pring?” Spock asked, as though Jim wasn’t already trying.

“She was hot…” Jim said sagely, nodding his head with a grin. Spock raised an eyebrow. Even drugged, Jim knew he was annoyed. “She also wanted something,” he added quickly, hoping that would appease his first officer.

“Something…”Spock repeated back softly. McCoy glanced between the two of them, confused.

Jim tried to think hard. He could hear her voice in his head, but it was faint and muddled and drowning underneath the alcohol that had been in his system at the time. What had he said back to her? What had been the rest of the conversation? There were so many questions. If only she had come earlier. He could remember everything from before he had started to black out.

He focused his mind on her mouth from when she had been talking.

‘I am hoping to be…’  She had said. Jim didn’t remember why, but he did remember she had said that. Or at least he thought he remembered that. It was hard to be sure of anything at this point.

“She wanted a job on th’ Enterprise,” Jim speculated.

“Are you…certain of this, captain?” Spock sounded as unabashedly shocked as Jim had ever heard him.

“No,” he answered honestly. Jim knew she had asked him something important and knew she had said that she wanted to be something, but that was all he was certain of. But really, it was as good a guess as any other. “Not a hundred percent, but I’m pretty sure.”

“I apologize, but I must look into this new information. If you’ll excuse me,” Spock said curtly before leaving the room in a rush. McCoy watched him, intrigued.

“I don’t think he and T’Pring like each other very much,” he deduced, injecting Jim with something else.

“Yea...I got that feelin’ too. She’s hot though. You’re gonna thank me fer hirin’ her. “

“Doubt it. I just don’t find Vulcans that attractive.”

“Ah, c’mon…” Jim prodded blearily as the medicine McCoy injected him with moved through his system, “Thoss ears!? Haaaaaaaaaaaaawt….”

“I’m endin’ this conversation now,” McCoy said, looking concerned.

“All I’m sayin’ is tha’ they’ve got tha’ elf-y thing goin’ on… It’s sexy.”

“I said I was endin’ the conversation.”

“Whatever. Xena… Xenori….Xenophon… Racist.”

“Stick to simple words. Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

“Asshole.”

“Alcoholic.”

“The world looks blue. ‘s the world suppos’ ta be blue?”

“Yes, Jim. The world is very sad. Now go to sleep.”

“I dun think ‘s suppos’ ta be blue…”

“Shh… Sleep.”

And without any other argument, that’s what Jim did.

 

Chapter 4

Comments

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
ariadnechan
Jul. 21st, 2010 07:15 am (UTC)
It is good to know that JIm could tell Spock about T'Pring in the ship before he find her there!

i like this chapter i hope you have the next one soon
usataro
Jul. 21st, 2010 08:56 pm (UTC)
Thank you for the review :D The next chapter has Spock confronting T'Pring, so keep your eyes open for it :D
(Deleted comment)
usataro
Jul. 21st, 2010 08:57 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I liked that line a lot too :D

And my beta helped to guide the hangover scene, so credit goes to him as well :D
renuki
Jul. 22nd, 2010 04:22 am (UTC)
Damn, Jim... at least ya still alive. There is that.

And yay, Spock knows that T'Pring is here.
usataro
Aug. 13th, 2010 03:28 pm (UTC)
:D I JUST saw this comment[/spaz]. And yea, Jim needs to show gratitude.
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )

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