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spacedogfromspaceGlowstick
K/S Spring Fever 2023
Jim and Spock are stuck in a pitch dark cave. During the search for their communicators, Jim's allergies flare up, forcing them to come up with a more rapid escape plan. Luckily, Spock has an idea. It involves biology. Vulcan biology.
Fandom(s): Star Trek AOS
Character(s): Jim Kirk, Spock
Tags: Spirk, Injuries, Trapped in a Cave, Proof that some memes should just stay dreams
Rating: Teen+
Content Warnings: Descriptions of bones breaking
Word Count: 3076
Type: Oneshot, Standalone
Collection: K/S Spring Fever 2023
Written for K/S Spring Fever 2023 for vfrankenstein
"I can't see shit. What about you?"
"I also do not see any excrement."
"You know what I mean."
"My eyesight does not differ much from yours, unfortunately. I am effectively blind as well."
"Well, that's just great," Jim sighed, closing his eyes in frustration. When he opened them again, the view was the same as the inside of his eyelids: impenetrable inky darkness. The crushing sensation of claustrophobia was settling into his gut, his bones, squeezing at his heart and lungs. His only respite was in knowing that Spock was here with him.... somewhere.
"Spock?" Jim asked, suddenly unnerved at not knowing exactly where his first officer was. Spock was his only landmark in this place.
"I am here, Captain," Spock answered from somewhere behind his left shoulder.
Jim turned toward the sound of Spock's voice, reaching an arm out and waving it from side to side cautiously as he stepped forward, stopping when his hand bumped into Spock's shoulder. He traced his hand down Spock's arm to his wrist, where he took a hold on Spock's sleeve. "Let's try not to get separated," he explained when he sensed Spock raise an eyebrow at the contact.
With his free hand, Spock removed Jim's hand from his wrist and placed it in his own, twining their fingers together. Jim gave Spock's warm hand a grateful squeeze, but didn't say anything. Spock also stayed silent as they tried to regain their bearings.
Minutes ago, Jim and Spock had been walking together on the alien planet that they were surveying, having split up from the rest of the survey team. Either they didn't see the hole because they were too engrossed in the readings from Spock's tricorder, or because the hole was very well camouflaged. They were walking across a plain of thick grass and knee-high shrubs one moment, and falling into a pitch-dark cavern the next. It was not a short drop either, but luckily neither of them suffered any injury more serious than bruises. Due to the intensity of the darkness, they could not see any way out. The hole they fell through must have closed up after them, as no light shone through it, but they knew that even if they could see their entrance point, they wouldn't be able to reach it, high up as it was.
"We can call for beam-up," Jim suggested, breaking the silence.
Spock nodded, even though there was nobody to see it. "Indeed. We will have to use your communicator, mine was damaged beyond functionality in the fall."
There was a shuffle as Jim searched his belt, brow furrowing when he didn't find his communicator clipped to it as he expected it to be. "I think mine must have gotten knocked off my belt," he said. "It's probably on the ground around here somewhere..." He let go of Spock's hand and sunk down to his hands and knees on the mossy ground, sweeping the area before him with his hands. Sensing what he was doing, Spock followed suit, and they searched the area blindly for the missing communicator.
They searched for what felt like a long time in the darkness, when in reality it wasn't that long at all. However, they had exhausted their search of the immediate area, where the communicator was most likely to have fallen. Jim sat back on his knees, rubbing his hands on his pants, wincing audibly.
"Jim?" Spock asked. "Are you okay?"
Jim scratched as his palms. "Yeah, my hands are just itchy," he grunted. "I think I'm allergic to this moss," he added when he realized that his palms were starting to swell. Because of course he would be allergic to some random alien moss.
There was a brief pause before Spock asked, "Are you having an allergic reaction?"
Jim grimaced. "No," he lied, unconvincingly. He felt Spock raise an eyebrow at him. "Okay, yes, but just a minor one. Any sign of my communicator?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Unfortunately, no," Spock answered. "We should expand our search radius, it may have ricocheted off a rock when it fell."
"I hope so. I'm worried it might be up on the surface somewhere," Jim said, giving one last scratch to his swelling hands before sweeping them across the moss again.
They searched in silence in the total dark, expanding their search area in hopes that Jim's communicator would turn up and not be damaged beyond functionality. They still hadn't had any luck by the time Jim started wheezing.
"Jim?" Spock asked, stopping his search when he noticed Jim's laboured breathing.
"I'm fine," Jim replied, waving off Spock despite the gesture's null effect in the darkness. "I think that by disturbing the moss we're kicking up spores. Which I'm allergic to, of course."
There was a shuffle as Spock pulled himself across the cavern floor to where Jim sat, trying to catch his breath but struggling to fill his lungs. Spock followed the sound of Jim's wheezing, stopping when his fingertips brushed against Jim's swollen hand. He picked up Jim's hand and held it in both of his own, examining him by touch and grimacing at how dramatically puffy it was. With a frown, Spock walked his hands up Jim's arms and gently felt his neck and face.
"Jim, you're having an anaphylactic reaction," Spock said, a spike of alarm jolting through him at the swelling in Jim's face and neck.
Jim scoffed as much as he could through his wheezing. "No shit," he rasped.
A pause, as Spock calmed himself enough to logically analyze the situation and determine the fastest way to get Jim back aboard the Enterprise and to medical attention. "I have an idea, but it is... unusual," Spock said.
"Yeah, alright, sounds great," Jim wheezed out. His brow furrowed when Spock didn't immediately elaborate. "What is it?" He prompted.
"It's... a matter of biology," Spock said, hesitantly.
"Biology?" Jim asked, not following.
Spock shifted, seeming uncomfortable. "Yes. Vulcan biology."
"You mean, the biology of Vulcans?" Jim asked. He was suddenly struck by a fit of coughing, but he managed to recover quickly. Then Jim frowned at the sound of shuffling fabric nearby. "Spock, what are you... are you taking off your shirt?"
"Yes."
"I don't really know if this is the time-"
"Jim, if you want to get out of here alive, you're going to have to break my spine," Spock declared.
"Excuse me?!" Jim said loudly, the sudden volume making Spock flinch.
"When a Vulcan's spine is broken, it allows a chemical stored in the vertebrae to interact chemically with spinal fluid, resulting in a phosphorescent reaction that may last for a number of hours," Spock explained. "In other words, you would have a light source that would either reveal the location of your communicator or aid you in finding another method of escape."
"Spock, I can't just break your spine," Jim wheezed in exasperation.
"It will be unpleasant, but it is necessary to get you to medical attention immediately," Spock reasoned. "Once you aren't at risk of asphyxiating to death, Doctor McCoy can repair my injuries."
Jim shook his head in the dark. "Bones can't fix broken spines, Spock."
"He can," Spock said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice despite the dire situation. "He only told you that he can't to prevent you from putting yourself in unnecessary danger."
"Yeah, and that's worked so well-" Jim spat, then found himself coughing forcefully to try and keep his airways open.
"Jim, we can't delay this any further," Spock said, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder comfortingly as he fought through his coughing fit.
Jim's breath rasped as he regained as much control over his breathing as he could. "You sure there isn't a better option?" He wheezed out.
"We have already exhausted the ideal options, at least the ones that time would allow," Spock said, holding Jim by the elbow and guiding him to his feet as he himself rose. "Come. I noticed some rocks that would be suitable and require minimal effort on your part."
Jim allowed himself to be led through the dark, clearing his throat compulsively. He hated this idea. What if he still couldn't find his communicator or an exit even with light to guide him? Then they were both dead men. He cursed his allergies for about the millionth time in his life.
"Here, Captain," Spock said, cutting off Jim's internal tirade. They stopped, and Spock let go of Jim's arm to kneel down and probe at the environment with his hands. Spock's internal compass and eidetic memory had successfully brought him back to the rocky terrain that he had come across during the blind search for Jim's communicator. He traced his hands over the cool rocks, searching for a gap in the textured surface that would be suitable.
Jim stood in the dark, feeling his neck and face to see if the swelling had worsened since last he checked. He listened to the sound of debris skitter across the stone surface as Spock swept his hands over it. When Spock called him over, Jim navigated his way towards Spock at a crawl, not wanting to trip on any of the rocks. When a puffy hand finally came into contact with Spock, Jim brushed the dirt and small stones from his palms and wiped the back of his hand across his sweating brow.
Spock was lying face down on the rocks, positioned so that his chest and legs were securely on level ground, while his lower abdomen bridged the foot-wide crevasse he had located. He explained this to Jim briefly, and Jim understood immediately what Spock meant for him to do.
"Are you sure about this?" Jim asked, hoping that Spock would change his mind, but knowing that he wouldn't. Not unless circumstances changed, allowing for a better plan. "I don't think the swelling is getting any worse," Jim pleaded, hoping Spock wouldn't recognize the lie in his voice. "I think that buys us some time to try something else."
"Jim," Spock said sternly. "Don't make this take longer than it needs to."
Jim sighed in resignation. His only consolation was that Bones would be able to fix Spock up afterwards. "Alright. Do you want me to count down?"
"I think counting down to a severe injury is rather morbid and undesirable," Spock said flatly.
Jim let out half a laugh, triggering a small bout of coughing. "Didn't think you were one for surprises, Mr Spock," he said when he recovered.
"I'm not. But for this I will make an exception," Spock replied. "Jim?"
"Yeah, Spock?"
"Quit stalling."
"Right. Well, sorry in advance."
"Apology is not necessary-"
"Shut up, Spock."
Jim felt around and determined a good place to stand. He decided to stand beside Spock's prone body, his feet planted firmly on the stone, set in a wide stance that straddled the crevasse. He lifted his left foot and placed it lightly on the small of Spock's back, then returned it to the rock. He repeated the motion a few times for practice, building some muscle memory. He did not want to miss.
When he was confident in his accuracy, he took a deep breath to steel himself, regretting it instantly as it launched him into another coughing fit. When he recovered, he did a few more practice runs. He hesitated a moment before committing to the real deal, having to stop himself from warning Spock of what was going to happen. Clenching his jaw tightly and squeezing his eyes shut despite not being able to see anyway, he raised his knee up and drove his foot down hard on Spock's back.
There was pained hiss from Spock, and Jim had heard something crack, and felt the shape of a vertebrae through the sole of his shoe, so he was certain that he had succeeded on first try. But when he opened his eyes, there was still no beginnings of light. He cursed under his breath, and muttered an apology to Spock as he readied himself for another attempt, not allowing himself to pause or even think because if he did, he knew that he would not be able to try again.
He stomped down hard again, ignoring any sounds that Spock made. When he checked for light and saw nothing, he closed his eyes and brought his foot down again. Then again, and again, each time opening his eyes only to check for light, the blood rushing in his ears thankfully drowning out the agonized pained sounds of Spock. On the fifth attempt, he felt something below his foot give, and he felt rather than heard the resounding SNAP.
Opening his eyes and stepping back, Jim breathed hard from the effort, and he had to fight to get a sufficient amount of air in his lungs. As he leaned over, bracing himself on his knees and trying to catch his breath, he slowly became aware that he was able to see his feet, barely. He looked up towards where he knew Spock was, and saw his first officer prone on the ground, a pleasant blue light emitting from a line that ran in a smooth line down his back, only to crumple at the end as if a painter had jolted their arm at the end of a long stroke of the brush.
The blue light brightened by the second, the area illuminated growing larger and easier to see within as it did so. Jim could see Spock propped on his elbows, his face twisted into a soundless snarl of agony, bare torso shuddering with pain. As if snapping out of a trance, the blood rushing in Jim's ears silenced and he shuffled clumsily to Spock, wincing as he dropped to his knees too carelessly but forgetting his own pain immediately, focusing only on Spock. He placed a hand on Spock's shoulder, and bit his lip at Spock's uneven and laboured breathing.
"I'm sorry," Jim croaked, feeling stunned.
Blue light glanced off Spock's eyes as he looked over to Jim. "Communicator," he grunted through gritted teeth, pain too great and all-encompassing to say anything further.
"Right," Jim said, shaking his head as he suddenly remembered the whole point of this whole ordeal. He shoved to his feet and looked around. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he hissed under his breath when he spotted a familiar rectangle bathed in blue light only a few feet away from him. He pushed the stab of anger and annoyance away and grabbed the communicator, opening it and feeling relief when he discovered that it was still operational. He sat down next to his pained companion, placing a hand over Spock's before making the call. "Scotty, get me and Spock out of here," he managed to barely wheeze into the communicator. "And get Bones to meet us in the transporter room." He felt light headed, and had time only to hope that his voice had been clear and loud enough to be understood before the oxygen restriction caught up to him and he blacked out.
Jim blinked awake under the bright white lights of sickbay. He shot up, looking around the room for Spock, but quickly determined that he was alone in the room but for Nurse Chapel, who was sitting in the corner working on a PADD, presumably supervising him. He did, after all, have a habit of bolting from sickbay before he was cleared to leave. She put her PADD aside when she saw that he was awake, and stepped over to him.
"Don't worry. The epinephrine did it's job before you could lose too many brain cells," she said humorously, offering him a crooked smile.
"Spock?" Jim asked, his mind running on one track.
Chapel nodded sympathetically. "He'll be alright. We put him under anesthesia to spare him the pain."
Jim nodded slightly, looking down at his hands, which were no longer swollen. After a beat, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, wanting to see Doctor McCoy about Spock's condition. "Where's Bones?"
"Putting Humpty together again," an annoyed voice grumbled from the doorway.
Jim spun around to see Bones standing in the doorway looking haggard but only mildly inconvenienced. "How's Spock?" Jim asked.
Bones rolled his eyes. "You had a severe reaction and almost asphyxiated to death. Luckily, we got you up here and stuck you with a few hypos and get your airways open before any damage could be done to your brain... From the oxygen deprivation, at least. Can't do much about the rest," he said sarcastically, checking a chart on his PADD as Jim pouted. "Anyways, you're clear for duty. Spock's going to need a few days off. I fixed the break in his spine, he'll make a full recovery, but he'll need a brace for while. Maybe that'll fix his awful posture."
"No lasting damage?" Jim asked. He relaxed visibly when Bones shook his head.
"Nah, he'll be right as rain in only a few months," Bones said. "So, Vulcan's have spines that double as glow-sticks, huh? I'm gonna have to remember that."
"Can I see Spock?" Jim asked impatiently, ignoring him.
Bones gestured with his head for Jim to follow him, and he showed Jim to the room where Spock was recovering. "Don't bother him too long, he needs rest," he warned as he left Jim at the doorway, his shoes clicking down the hall.
After a moment of hesitation, Jim walked into the dim room and found Spock awake in a bio-bed. "Hey," Jim said lamely as he sat down in a chair at the bedside. "Sorry I broke your spine."
Spock shook his head minutely. "Apologies are-"
"I know." Jim said. "But I'm apologizing anyway. How do you feel?"
"I am not in any pain," Spock answered, gesturing to the IV connect to his arm. "Doctor McCoy has me on an efficient regiment of pain killers. I cannot feel a thing."
"Yeah?" Jim asked, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Can you feel this?" He asked coyly, reaching a hand out to take Spock's.
Spock gazed warmly into Jim's eyes, appreciating an instance of blue that wasn't emitting from his own broken spine. He laced his fingers through Jim's, letting his poorly regulated human emotions flood into his system through the contact. Relief, he felt. And something else.
Ah.
Love.
Spock's eyes smiled. "Yes. I can feel that."