[fic] Clouded Memories 1/4
Author's name:chibinecco
Written/Drawn for: asmallcrime
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: After an accident during an away mission, both Kirk and Spock somehow lose their memories. Not knowing where they are or who they are, they both must learn to rely and trust one another for their very survival. Along the way, dormant emotions rise to the surface, making the two men suspect that whatever they were in the past, it was probably a lot more serious and complex than mere friendship.
Warnings: Amnesia, extreme levels of sap
Disclaimer: Characters copyright Gene Roddenberry
A/N: I am SO sorry for the lateness of this. Just a combination of this story kicking my ASS as it grew out of CONTROL while work took a turn for the crazy. BUT it is done now, and probably my best work. Enjoy =^.^=
An alarm blared. Flashing lights overhead blinded his vision. Turning his head to the side, James could see a man, unconscious. Thick, green blood oozed from a cut by his left temple. James sat up slowly, trying to make sense of his world.
The alarm continued to scream at him, and James realized he needed to move, needed to get out of here. An arrant spark from one of the smoking machines around him set fire to one of the padded chairs mounted beside them. James staggered to his feet, wincing as his ankle gave a throbbing twinge. Grabbing his companion's limp form by his shoulders James began to drag him bodily from the vehicle.
Nearly clear, The man began to rouse, blinking up at James. "What?" He croaked, jolting upright. "The ship!" Scrambling to his feet, the other man ran back into the wreckage.
"Hey, wait!" James ran back in after him, dodging a falling wire that sparked dangerously close to his head. James coughed as he inhaled an unhealthy lungful of smoke. "Come on, man we need to get out of here."
"There is a third passenger." The man called back.
James heard a crash through the smoke as he limped back into the vehicle. Spotting a pair of packs, James grabbed them up, expecting that having something was better than having nothing.
He looked up to see his companion with another man draped limply over one shoulder. A crimson red shirt stained a dark sticky color where the man's blood had soaked through a deep gash in his arm.
"We must leave."
"No shit," James coughed, hobbling after the two other men.
Outside, the alarm was quieter, not surrounding James from all sides. He staggered a few paces away before dropping to his knees and vomiting. The ragged dryness in his throat from the smoke aggravated by the acidic bile.
"Are you well?" His companion asked, shouldering one of the dropped packs.
"Do I look well?" James croaked, dry heaving as his lungs continued to complain at his treatment of them. "You shouldn't have run in there. We could have both died."
"You should not have followed me. We need to continue. In the event of the shuttle exploding we need to be a minimum .38 kilometers away."
"Is that likely?" James staggered to his feet, favoring his injured leg and snatching up the packs again.
"Negative; however, the possibility is not one we should tempt." The guy turned, forging a path along the deep swath their crash landing had created in the thick undergrowth.
"Jeez, slow down." James limped. "How on earth are you okay after that?"
"I am not 'okay.' I have several abrasions to my hands; my left radius seems to be fractured, and I have a minor laceration on my frontal cranium."
"You're carrying that guy with a broken arm?!" James balked.
"The distal portions of my arms are not required to support our companion."
"How much farther? You need to put him down."
"His safety, as well as yours depend on removing ourselves from the possible, fatal shock-wave radius if the shuttle were to reach a critical condition."
"It's already at a critical condition," James mumbled stumbling into the guy when he stopped suddenly. "Yikes, warn a guy next time."
"I shall endeavor to honor your request." The guy, dressed in a singed, blue shirt and black pants, bent to relieve himself of his passenger, grunting as he jostled his injured arm.
"Dammit, let me look at that. There's probably a first aid kit in one of these packs."
"Tend to our third man first. He has lost much blood and will expire far sooner than myself."
"Damn, you're right." James changed course, yanking a white crate with a red cross painted across the top from the pack and approaching the unconscious man. Using a pair of scissors, James cut away the man's blood smeared sleeve, applying a compress marked 'class four' to the man's wound. It was the highest number, and James suspected this was just the wound these were designed for. There was a gurgling bubble as the man's blood began to rapidly clot around the wound, sealing any more blood from escaping.
Looking through the kit, James read off instructions, looking for something that would encourage the man's body to replenish the blood he'd lost. Finding a small canister, James inserted it into the hypo and pressed it to the man's neck. Making him as comfortable as he could, lying against the side of the ravine carved out by their ship, James turned to find his second companion already utilizing the supplies in his own kit to bandage his hands and splint his arm.
"Are you okay?"
"My health is adequate, considering the circumstances."
"That's good, uh..." James trailed off, finally realizing he didn't know this man's name, or the name of the man he'd just bandaged. "Sorry, in all the excitement, I've forgotten your name."
"You are not alone. I assumed I was the only one who sustained head injuries sufficient to impede memory recall. My name is Spock."
"I'm James. Nice to meet you." James chuckled at that. "Sorry, just something tells me; if I had my memory that would be the silliest thing I've ever said."
"You suspect that we know each other well?"
"Yeah, something like that." James shrugged, standing carefully and hobbling over to join Spock and help him bandage his second hand.
Spock inhaled sharply, pulling his hand back to himself. "I apologize, my species have exceptionally sensitive fingers. The abrasions are too extensive for anyone other than one trained in medicine or myself to care for."
"How do you know I'm not a doctor?"
"Are you?" The unbandaged eyebrow soared up into hair stained with blood, both human and alien.
"Well... not as such. At least, If I am, I don't remember any of it. I just followed the instructions on the kit to give that guy first aid."
"I must confess, I do not remember anything about my past save my name, rank and ship."
"Oh? I can only remember my name."
"I believe the only reason I remember my rank is because I consider it an extension of my name. 'I am Commander Spock of the USS Equinox.'"
"So, Spock's probably your last name, what's your first?"
"I do not remember."
James laughed at that. "'I am James T. Kirk. No idea what the T stands for.'"
"Unfortunate," Spock said blandly, tying down the last of his bandaging. "Your ankle is sprained, allow me to bandage it for you." Spock cracked open his case, unfolding a second splint.
"It's not that bad, really, just a bit swollen."
"These supplies are available for us to use them. Your ankle will heal faster if properly supported."
"Alright, alright." James sighed, sitting gingerly down and laying his foot out on Spock's lap.
A quick cut with the scissors gave Spock easy access to James' foot, where he carefully removed the damaged shoe and sock, the crash having effectively destroyed both pieces of clothing. Aligning the splint to James's foot, Spock began wrapping the accompanying bandage tightly around James's limb.
James sighed, relaxing as his muscles were immobilized and the stiffness in his leg eased. "Okay, you're right. That feels pretty amazing."
Tying off the bandage, Spock set down James's injured foot. "Do you remember the name of our extra party member?"
"Yy-nope. No idea. You?"
"I confess, I do not either."
"So, we're stuck on a foreign planet with no idea who we are or how we got here?"
"That is correct."
"What do you think we should do?"
"Given the limited visual assessment I was able to give our ship as we escaped, I believe all burnable fuel will be consumed in approximately 83.77 minutes. With a .048 minute margin of error."
"That's approximate?" James whistled. "I think you must be a scientist."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because that's not approximate that's pretty exact in my book."
"'In your book?'"
"It's just an expression, Spock. Anyway, I say we should wait and see how the ship's doing once the fire goes out. We could probably use it as shelter. Then we won't have to build anything while injured like we are."
"A logical proposal."
~
88.67 minutes later, James was laughing at Spock's almost apologetic behavior that his estimate had been so far off the mark.
"Spock, chill. It's almost out, and you've had a pretty nasty head injury in the last six hours, I think being off by a few minutes is excusable."
Spock remained silent.
James sighed, at least he wasn't still apologizing. "Come on. It's probably good enough. We can look inside; see what's still salvageable.
Not much was. There was a space for where the beds used to be, but the chairs and consoles were sadly melted scrap.
"There's enough rations in these packs for a day or two, but if we're stuck here any longer we're going to have to scavenge for food."
"Without any knowledge of our surroundings we risk inadvertently poisoning ourselves."
"Not to mention risking allergic reactions," James agreed. "I know, Spock, but we can't really let ourselves starve waiting for help to find us. I think first thing's first, we should make some pallets to sleep on and put them where there used to be mattresses in those beds. The sun's well past noon, and we'll need somewhere to sleep before nightfall."
"I concur. Your plan has merit."
They worked together to settle their third into one of the mattress-less beds. James had taken to calling him 'Clint.' Despite having no explanation for calling a man without a name 'Clint,' James had picked it and Spock had simply followed suit.
"Damn it's foggy. Hadn't really noticed in all the commotion." James said, standing outside the ship again, James looked around the artificial clearing with Spock. "I think I saw some bushes with some really puffy leaves, or maybe they were seeds towards where we patched ourselves up. Let's empty out those packs and see if we can't bring back some padding for our beds. If we can find some kind of large-blade grass we could weave some mats. Not the best bed I've ever slept on I'm sure, but it'd be better than hard steel."
"You propose a resourceful use of materials." Spock said as he turned back to the shuttle.
They emptied out the packs, leaving a neat pile of supplies inside and filing out to find James' bushes.
~
Nightfall fast approaching, the two companions dumped out their latest collection of what had, in fact, been very similar to cotton, except green in color. They hadn't found any grass suitable for weaving, but they had managed to come across a tree with broad, low-hanging leaves which they had plucked.
"Blankets. Tomorrow, I want to make a blanket." James said, shivering as the fog from earlier began to creep into their little shelter.
"I believe a more prudent use of time would be to fashion a door."
"Okay, you're right."
They had also torn out the three mutilated chairs to make space on the floor. The layout of the shuttle had three rooms. One, large room full of various demolished interfaces with two smaller rooms set off from it.
In the smallest room,with one pallet, they had placed 'Clint'. They agreed was likely the captain's quarters.
The second room was only minutely larger and had two beds which they'd claimed for themselves.
Sitting together on the floor of the main room, James sighed. "We'll worry about anything else tomorrow. Right now, I'm starving."
"Our rations are severely limited at this time, and with 'Clint' unconscious, he will be unable to consume solid foods."
"Then we'll give the 'electrolyte water' to him," James said, reading the side of one of the four bottles between them.
"I do not believe that my physiology will require fluids to sustain myself in our current environment; however, you will be unable to sustain yourself on food alone."
"Damn. You make a really good point, Spock. Okay. Tomorrow: water, door, blankets. How's that sound?"
"That is a reasonable itinerary." Spock agreed, opening a packet of protein nubs and offering to share them with James.
~
The next morning, the fog was thick in their room, what little of James' skin was exposed past his long-sleeved black shirt and pants was dusted with a thin layer of moisture. Sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, James noticed Spock wasn't in his bed.
Fearing some animal had come in the middle of the night, dragging him away, James jumped up, running outside the shuttle. He couldn't see Spock, but a trail of muddy footprints led a path away from the structure into the woods.
Relieved that Spock had at least left of his own free will, James made use of a tree several paces from their crash site before following the trail. Spock had been right the night before, despite the damp environment, James felt incredibly thirsty this morning.
Ten minutes into the woods, James met up with Spock, coming around a tree carrying a large, misshapen pot. "There you are. I've been looking for you."
"You have found me."
James smiled at Spock's frank manner. "Where'd you get the pot?"
"A second examination of our quarters this morning revealed six separate panels of basic necessities that we did not uncover yesterday."
"That's great. Find any food? Or water?"
"No; however, there is a stream 1.33 kilometers farther from this point. Also, you will be pleased to know, one cabinet contained four fire retardant blankets."
"Yes! Spock, that's fantastic. Now all we need is a door and we're all set."
"There are many more tasks to be completed before our shelter will sustain us indefinitely."
"I'm aware of that, but having everything we planned yesterday already done, and we haven't even eaten breakfast is good news, and we could both do with some good news."
"Your assessment is fair."
"Anyway, get that water back to camp. I'm gonna try to find some suitable firewood so we can boil any microbes out of it."
"I shall empty one of the cabinets in order to store any dry materials you return with."
"Thanks, Spock. I'll see you again soon. Pick a good flavor of protein bites out for us."
"There is only one flavor."
James laughed. "I know. We should see about finding food today too."
~
Back at the camp later, James returned with enough firewood to last them for a few days. Apparently used to the impenetrable fog, the local flora had evolved to keep out water, making it extremely dry on the inside once dead. Starting a fire would be difficult, but sustaining that fire would be blessedly easy.
Arranging his load of wood in the empty cabinet, James found Spock in the private room with 'Clint,' carefully propping the unconscious man up; so he could carefully pour the electrolyte water into his mouth. Small sips at a time, Spock paused between each to dutifully stroke the man's throat until it contracted in a reflexive swallow.
"He gonna be okay?"
"It is impossible for me to say." Spock screwed the cap back on the mostly empty bottle, settling the man down on his back again.
"How are your hands?" James asked when Spock nearly winced tightening the cap the last bit.
"They are healing. Your concern is unnecessary; there is no permanent damage."
"Yeah, but I can tell they hurt. Your arm's probably bothering you too. My ankle's still killing me."
"My injuries will heal with time and rest."
"Then you should be sure to get some," James said, mildly scolding.
"If you are referring to my early awakening this morning, I believe that my species does not require the same amount of rest as your own."
"Really? 'You believe?'" James asked, crossing his arms.
"I confess; I do not remember specifics or either of our species; however, I awoke this morning after 3.22 hours sleep, feeling refreshed and well rested. My injuries are healing as well as they are able."
"Alright, fair enough. I'll trust your instincts. Just, let me take care of any bottle caps from now on until your hands are better."
"If that would ease your concerns for me, I will grant you this responsibility without complaint."
"Now, come on. I want to get some breakfast, then we should try to fashion a door for this place."
~
Examining the original door while they ate revealed that it had been designed to handle the friction burn of entering an atmosphere on the outside, but had not been sufficiently protected from a fire on the inside. As a result, it had warped and melted during the fire and was now sealed permanently open.
Spock had assured James that with two working arms he would have been strong enough to rip the door free and use it, but that didn't do them much good now.
Instead, they had spent several hours collecting leaves from trees similar to the one they had stolen their pallets from the night before. Using native vines, they were able to lash several together into a form of thick, leafy curtain that they were able to tie to the support railing lining the top of the shuttle. It made the main chamber very dark, but the two bedrooms had windows making them very pleasant during the day; like now as they sat together in the room they shared together.
"I don't think this could be going any better, do you?"
"Even in this moist atmosphere, these leaves and vines will dry out, becoming too brittle for our purposes in less than 10.66 days. In that time, if we are not rescued first, we will be forced to create a new door."
"Oh, come on, there's no need to be a party-pooper."
"I am merely stating facts."
"We have bigger problems though."
"You are referring to the apparent lack of fauna in our immediate vicinity?"
"Yeah. I'd expect our crash to scare a lot of them off, but we went pretty far out getting everything this morning, and I didn't see anything. I saw a couple fruit trees around, but without any protein..."
Spock nodded. "What do you propose?"
"I don't know, Spock. I don't suppose you saw any fish in that stream of yours did you?"
"I did not; however, that was not the focus of my trip, so I did not exert an extreme amount of effort to that purpose."
James sighed, thinking. His eyes staring distantly into the middle ground. "I don't know what we're going to do if I can't find anything to eat except fruit.
"Plants would not evolve fruit without the animals necessary to distribute the seeds consumed."
"That's true..." James said, glancing over at his companion, noticing Spock's hands resting limply in his lap. "Are they stiff?"
"Are what stiff?"
"Your hands. Keeping them wrapped up like that will help the scratches heal, but it's probably not great for blood flow, here." James reached out for Spock who pulled his hands back to his chest.
"That will be unnecessary."
"I don't care; give me your hand."
"No."
"Why not."
Spock remained silent.
"I'll be careful not to hurt your hands. I know they're sensitive; they could probably do with a massage, and you know it, so give me your hand."
With a mildly resigned look, Spock settled himself opposite James and allowed his hand to reach out.
James wrapped his fingers gently around Spock's hand and began to squeeze gently over the palm. From the tips of Spock's fingers up past his wrist, James worked his way around Spock's hand silently, completely focused.
"I believe that hand has been sufficiently cared for," Spock said quietly a few minutes later.
James looked up to see Spock staring at their hands, his face lightly tinged green. "You okay?" he murmured. "I'm not hurting you?"
"No," Spock breathed. "As I mentioned yesterday, my hands are very sensitive. It is only that they are not merely sensitive, but also an erogenous zone."
"Seriously?" James laughed, glancing at Spock's crotch. "Wow, you're not kidding." He released Spock's hand, looking away bashfully. "Sorry."
"It is of no consequence," Spock said, holding out his other hand. "and you are correct that with proper circulation, my hands will heal faster."
"You sure it's alright?"
"I am positive."
"Okay then." James took Spock's second hand into his, beginning his massage, trying to ignore the way Spock's breathing had picked up, the heat permeating James' fingers through the bandages. "You think we've ever done this before?"
"I doubt severe abrasions are a particularly frequent part of our daily lives, or my hands would have significant scar tissue."
"No, I mean... maybe... I don't know, this just feels kinda familiar, like we've done this before when your hands weren't all sore and wrapped up."
Spock was silent for a bit at that. "I do not know. I have no evidence to confirm or deny your theory."
James nodded silently, going back to his massage. A few minutes more, and he was forced to admit Spock's hand was as circulated as he was going to get it, anything more would be simply gratuitous and an invasion of Spock's privacy.
"There you go," James said, letting go of Spock's hand. "All better."
"I believe it would benefit me to have you repeat these actions every 8.94 hours until I have healed completely."
"You're okay with that?" James asked softly.
"Why would I not be?"
"Just..." James trailed off awkwardly, his stomach growling into the silence between them. "Sorry. Uh... I think I'm gonna take one of our packs and gather up some grub. Maybe I'll run into a deer or something."
Spock nodded, following James into the main room, except he never got farther than that.
"Agh, what's that smell?" James asked. "It's coming from- oh shit."
"I believe you are correct," Spock said, amusement apparent even while he copied James example, lifting the collar of his shirt to cover his nose.
"Dammit. It didn't even occur to me he'd need to... go sometimes."
"I admit I neglected to prepare for the inevitability either."
"Nose goes?" James asked hopefully, putting a finger over where his nose was hidden beneath his shirt.
"That will be unnecessary. I suggest you proceed with your plans to locate edible fruit for us. I will clean 'Clint' and fashion an easier means to care for this in future." Spock said, entering the cabin. James felt Spock was very brave to volunteer.
"Ugh. I suddenly have a whole new set of reasons to hope he wakes up soon."
"Only two," Spock countered, and James laughed heartily.
"Alright, Spock. I'll see you in a bit."
~
That evening, sitting down to dinner of fruit and a meager portion of protein nubs, James said into the silence, "It's interesting."
"To what do you refer?"
"That we have no small talk. I know absolutely everything about you that you know about me and vice versa."
"An interesting observation."
"I suppose we could speculate."
"To what purpose?" Spock asked, plainly baffled.
"To give us something to talk about? All this silence is unnerving."
"If that is your request, I believe you to have been someone of authority," Spock said simply.
"What makes you say that?" James asked, biting into an apple-like fruit. It's skin harder than a traditional apple, but much juicier, dribbling over his mouth and chin.
"All of your plans have been both spontaneous and well thought out. You think quickly in a crisis and act selflessly, most of the time."
James chuckled at the allusion to his earlier reluctance to clean up their third companion. "Thanks. You're pretty quick on your feet too though. Maybe we were partners?"
"I have speculated that myself," Spock said.
James looked up, but Spock's face as a blank mask. He could have sworn he heard something else in his new? old? friend's voice. Shrugging it off, James said with conviction, "Doctor."
Spock's eyebrow shot up. "What evidence gives you such confidence?"
"You're so good with your hands, and you don't mind dealing with..." James gestured to the room where 'Clint' was resting quietly. Thankfully, Spock had not only cleaned him up, but had also had the forethought to open the 'door' and allow fresh air to circulate the stale air out of the shuttle.
"Indeed," He said simply.
"Well." James rubbed sticky fingers off on his dark clothes. "I don't know about you, but I think I need a bath."
Spock nodded. "I had noticed the tendency for your species to sweat during manual labor would require frequent bathing to manage the produced odors."
James laughed. "Oh wow. You just said I smell didn't you."
"I did no such thing."
"You did," James crowed. "I don't believe it."
Spock simply gave James a silent stare.
"Uh-huh. Sure." James smirked, grabbing up the spare blanket and heading out.
Chapter 2
Written/Drawn for: asmallcrime
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: After an accident during an away mission, both Kirk and Spock somehow lose their memories. Not knowing where they are or who they are, they both must learn to rely and trust one another for their very survival. Along the way, dormant emotions rise to the surface, making the two men suspect that whatever they were in the past, it was probably a lot more serious and complex than mere friendship.
Warnings: Amnesia, extreme levels of sap
Disclaimer: Characters copyright Gene Roddenberry
A/N: I am SO sorry for the lateness of this. Just a combination of this story kicking my ASS as it grew out of CONTROL while work took a turn for the crazy. BUT it is done now, and probably my best work. Enjoy =^.^=
An alarm blared. Flashing lights overhead blinded his vision. Turning his head to the side, James could see a man, unconscious. Thick, green blood oozed from a cut by his left temple. James sat up slowly, trying to make sense of his world.
The alarm continued to scream at him, and James realized he needed to move, needed to get out of here. An arrant spark from one of the smoking machines around him set fire to one of the padded chairs mounted beside them. James staggered to his feet, wincing as his ankle gave a throbbing twinge. Grabbing his companion's limp form by his shoulders James began to drag him bodily from the vehicle.
Nearly clear, The man began to rouse, blinking up at James. "What?" He croaked, jolting upright. "The ship!" Scrambling to his feet, the other man ran back into the wreckage.
"Hey, wait!" James ran back in after him, dodging a falling wire that sparked dangerously close to his head. James coughed as he inhaled an unhealthy lungful of smoke. "Come on, man we need to get out of here."
"There is a third passenger." The man called back.
James heard a crash through the smoke as he limped back into the vehicle. Spotting a pair of packs, James grabbed them up, expecting that having something was better than having nothing.
He looked up to see his companion with another man draped limply over one shoulder. A crimson red shirt stained a dark sticky color where the man's blood had soaked through a deep gash in his arm.
"We must leave."
"No shit," James coughed, hobbling after the two other men.
Outside, the alarm was quieter, not surrounding James from all sides. He staggered a few paces away before dropping to his knees and vomiting. The ragged dryness in his throat from the smoke aggravated by the acidic bile.
"Are you well?" His companion asked, shouldering one of the dropped packs.
"Do I look well?" James croaked, dry heaving as his lungs continued to complain at his treatment of them. "You shouldn't have run in there. We could have both died."
"You should not have followed me. We need to continue. In the event of the shuttle exploding we need to be a minimum .38 kilometers away."
"Is that likely?" James staggered to his feet, favoring his injured leg and snatching up the packs again.
"Negative; however, the possibility is not one we should tempt." The guy turned, forging a path along the deep swath their crash landing had created in the thick undergrowth.
"Jeez, slow down." James limped. "How on earth are you okay after that?"
"I am not 'okay.' I have several abrasions to my hands; my left radius seems to be fractured, and I have a minor laceration on my frontal cranium."
"You're carrying that guy with a broken arm?!" James balked.
"The distal portions of my arms are not required to support our companion."
"How much farther? You need to put him down."
"His safety, as well as yours depend on removing ourselves from the possible, fatal shock-wave radius if the shuttle were to reach a critical condition."
"It's already at a critical condition," James mumbled stumbling into the guy when he stopped suddenly. "Yikes, warn a guy next time."
"I shall endeavor to honor your request." The guy, dressed in a singed, blue shirt and black pants, bent to relieve himself of his passenger, grunting as he jostled his injured arm.
"Dammit, let me look at that. There's probably a first aid kit in one of these packs."
"Tend to our third man first. He has lost much blood and will expire far sooner than myself."
"Damn, you're right." James changed course, yanking a white crate with a red cross painted across the top from the pack and approaching the unconscious man. Using a pair of scissors, James cut away the man's blood smeared sleeve, applying a compress marked 'class four' to the man's wound. It was the highest number, and James suspected this was just the wound these were designed for. There was a gurgling bubble as the man's blood began to rapidly clot around the wound, sealing any more blood from escaping.
Looking through the kit, James read off instructions, looking for something that would encourage the man's body to replenish the blood he'd lost. Finding a small canister, James inserted it into the hypo and pressed it to the man's neck. Making him as comfortable as he could, lying against the side of the ravine carved out by their ship, James turned to find his second companion already utilizing the supplies in his own kit to bandage his hands and splint his arm.
"Are you okay?"
"My health is adequate, considering the circumstances."
"That's good, uh..." James trailed off, finally realizing he didn't know this man's name, or the name of the man he'd just bandaged. "Sorry, in all the excitement, I've forgotten your name."
"You are not alone. I assumed I was the only one who sustained head injuries sufficient to impede memory recall. My name is Spock."
"I'm James. Nice to meet you." James chuckled at that. "Sorry, just something tells me; if I had my memory that would be the silliest thing I've ever said."
"You suspect that we know each other well?"
"Yeah, something like that." James shrugged, standing carefully and hobbling over to join Spock and help him bandage his second hand.
Spock inhaled sharply, pulling his hand back to himself. "I apologize, my species have exceptionally sensitive fingers. The abrasions are too extensive for anyone other than one trained in medicine or myself to care for."
"How do you know I'm not a doctor?"
"Are you?" The unbandaged eyebrow soared up into hair stained with blood, both human and alien.
"Well... not as such. At least, If I am, I don't remember any of it. I just followed the instructions on the kit to give that guy first aid."
"I must confess, I do not remember anything about my past save my name, rank and ship."
"Oh? I can only remember my name."
"I believe the only reason I remember my rank is because I consider it an extension of my name. 'I am Commander Spock of the USS Equinox.'"
"So, Spock's probably your last name, what's your first?"
"I do not remember."
James laughed at that. "'I am James T. Kirk. No idea what the T stands for.'"
"Unfortunate," Spock said blandly, tying down the last of his bandaging. "Your ankle is sprained, allow me to bandage it for you." Spock cracked open his case, unfolding a second splint.
"It's not that bad, really, just a bit swollen."
"These supplies are available for us to use them. Your ankle will heal faster if properly supported."
"Alright, alright." James sighed, sitting gingerly down and laying his foot out on Spock's lap.
A quick cut with the scissors gave Spock easy access to James' foot, where he carefully removed the damaged shoe and sock, the crash having effectively destroyed both pieces of clothing. Aligning the splint to James's foot, Spock began wrapping the accompanying bandage tightly around James's limb.
James sighed, relaxing as his muscles were immobilized and the stiffness in his leg eased. "Okay, you're right. That feels pretty amazing."
Tying off the bandage, Spock set down James's injured foot. "Do you remember the name of our extra party member?"
"Yy-nope. No idea. You?"
"I confess, I do not either."
"So, we're stuck on a foreign planet with no idea who we are or how we got here?"
"That is correct."
"What do you think we should do?"
"Given the limited visual assessment I was able to give our ship as we escaped, I believe all burnable fuel will be consumed in approximately 83.77 minutes. With a .048 minute margin of error."
"That's approximate?" James whistled. "I think you must be a scientist."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because that's not approximate that's pretty exact in my book."
"'In your book?'"
"It's just an expression, Spock. Anyway, I say we should wait and see how the ship's doing once the fire goes out. We could probably use it as shelter. Then we won't have to build anything while injured like we are."
"A logical proposal."
~
88.67 minutes later, James was laughing at Spock's almost apologetic behavior that his estimate had been so far off the mark.
"Spock, chill. It's almost out, and you've had a pretty nasty head injury in the last six hours, I think being off by a few minutes is excusable."
Spock remained silent.
James sighed, at least he wasn't still apologizing. "Come on. It's probably good enough. We can look inside; see what's still salvageable.
Not much was. There was a space for where the beds used to be, but the chairs and consoles were sadly melted scrap.
"There's enough rations in these packs for a day or two, but if we're stuck here any longer we're going to have to scavenge for food."
"Without any knowledge of our surroundings we risk inadvertently poisoning ourselves."
"Not to mention risking allergic reactions," James agreed. "I know, Spock, but we can't really let ourselves starve waiting for help to find us. I think first thing's first, we should make some pallets to sleep on and put them where there used to be mattresses in those beds. The sun's well past noon, and we'll need somewhere to sleep before nightfall."
"I concur. Your plan has merit."
They worked together to settle their third into one of the mattress-less beds. James had taken to calling him 'Clint.' Despite having no explanation for calling a man without a name 'Clint,' James had picked it and Spock had simply followed suit.
"Damn it's foggy. Hadn't really noticed in all the commotion." James said, standing outside the ship again, James looked around the artificial clearing with Spock. "I think I saw some bushes with some really puffy leaves, or maybe they were seeds towards where we patched ourselves up. Let's empty out those packs and see if we can't bring back some padding for our beds. If we can find some kind of large-blade grass we could weave some mats. Not the best bed I've ever slept on I'm sure, but it'd be better than hard steel."
"You propose a resourceful use of materials." Spock said as he turned back to the shuttle.
They emptied out the packs, leaving a neat pile of supplies inside and filing out to find James' bushes.
~
Nightfall fast approaching, the two companions dumped out their latest collection of what had, in fact, been very similar to cotton, except green in color. They hadn't found any grass suitable for weaving, but they had managed to come across a tree with broad, low-hanging leaves which they had plucked.
"Blankets. Tomorrow, I want to make a blanket." James said, shivering as the fog from earlier began to creep into their little shelter.
"I believe a more prudent use of time would be to fashion a door."
"Okay, you're right."
They had also torn out the three mutilated chairs to make space on the floor. The layout of the shuttle had three rooms. One, large room full of various demolished interfaces with two smaller rooms set off from it.
In the smallest room,with one pallet, they had placed 'Clint'. They agreed was likely the captain's quarters.
The second room was only minutely larger and had two beds which they'd claimed for themselves.
Sitting together on the floor of the main room, James sighed. "We'll worry about anything else tomorrow. Right now, I'm starving."
"Our rations are severely limited at this time, and with 'Clint' unconscious, he will be unable to consume solid foods."
"Then we'll give the 'electrolyte water' to him," James said, reading the side of one of the four bottles between them.
"I do not believe that my physiology will require fluids to sustain myself in our current environment; however, you will be unable to sustain yourself on food alone."
"Damn. You make a really good point, Spock. Okay. Tomorrow: water, door, blankets. How's that sound?"
"That is a reasonable itinerary." Spock agreed, opening a packet of protein nubs and offering to share them with James.
~
The next morning, the fog was thick in their room, what little of James' skin was exposed past his long-sleeved black shirt and pants was dusted with a thin layer of moisture. Sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, James noticed Spock wasn't in his bed.
Fearing some animal had come in the middle of the night, dragging him away, James jumped up, running outside the shuttle. He couldn't see Spock, but a trail of muddy footprints led a path away from the structure into the woods.
Relieved that Spock had at least left of his own free will, James made use of a tree several paces from their crash site before following the trail. Spock had been right the night before, despite the damp environment, James felt incredibly thirsty this morning.
Ten minutes into the woods, James met up with Spock, coming around a tree carrying a large, misshapen pot. "There you are. I've been looking for you."
"You have found me."
James smiled at Spock's frank manner. "Where'd you get the pot?"
"A second examination of our quarters this morning revealed six separate panels of basic necessities that we did not uncover yesterday."
"That's great. Find any food? Or water?"
"No; however, there is a stream 1.33 kilometers farther from this point. Also, you will be pleased to know, one cabinet contained four fire retardant blankets."
"Yes! Spock, that's fantastic. Now all we need is a door and we're all set."
"There are many more tasks to be completed before our shelter will sustain us indefinitely."
"I'm aware of that, but having everything we planned yesterday already done, and we haven't even eaten breakfast is good news, and we could both do with some good news."
"Your assessment is fair."
"Anyway, get that water back to camp. I'm gonna try to find some suitable firewood so we can boil any microbes out of it."
"I shall empty one of the cabinets in order to store any dry materials you return with."
"Thanks, Spock. I'll see you again soon. Pick a good flavor of protein bites out for us."
"There is only one flavor."
James laughed. "I know. We should see about finding food today too."
~
Back at the camp later, James returned with enough firewood to last them for a few days. Apparently used to the impenetrable fog, the local flora had evolved to keep out water, making it extremely dry on the inside once dead. Starting a fire would be difficult, but sustaining that fire would be blessedly easy.
Arranging his load of wood in the empty cabinet, James found Spock in the private room with 'Clint,' carefully propping the unconscious man up; so he could carefully pour the electrolyte water into his mouth. Small sips at a time, Spock paused between each to dutifully stroke the man's throat until it contracted in a reflexive swallow.
"He gonna be okay?"
"It is impossible for me to say." Spock screwed the cap back on the mostly empty bottle, settling the man down on his back again.
"How are your hands?" James asked when Spock nearly winced tightening the cap the last bit.
"They are healing. Your concern is unnecessary; there is no permanent damage."
"Yeah, but I can tell they hurt. Your arm's probably bothering you too. My ankle's still killing me."
"My injuries will heal with time and rest."
"Then you should be sure to get some," James said, mildly scolding.
"If you are referring to my early awakening this morning, I believe that my species does not require the same amount of rest as your own."
"Really? 'You believe?'" James asked, crossing his arms.
"I confess; I do not remember specifics or either of our species; however, I awoke this morning after 3.22 hours sleep, feeling refreshed and well rested. My injuries are healing as well as they are able."
"Alright, fair enough. I'll trust your instincts. Just, let me take care of any bottle caps from now on until your hands are better."
"If that would ease your concerns for me, I will grant you this responsibility without complaint."
"Now, come on. I want to get some breakfast, then we should try to fashion a door for this place."
~
Examining the original door while they ate revealed that it had been designed to handle the friction burn of entering an atmosphere on the outside, but had not been sufficiently protected from a fire on the inside. As a result, it had warped and melted during the fire and was now sealed permanently open.
Spock had assured James that with two working arms he would have been strong enough to rip the door free and use it, but that didn't do them much good now.
Instead, they had spent several hours collecting leaves from trees similar to the one they had stolen their pallets from the night before. Using native vines, they were able to lash several together into a form of thick, leafy curtain that they were able to tie to the support railing lining the top of the shuttle. It made the main chamber very dark, but the two bedrooms had windows making them very pleasant during the day; like now as they sat together in the room they shared together.
"I don't think this could be going any better, do you?"
"Even in this moist atmosphere, these leaves and vines will dry out, becoming too brittle for our purposes in less than 10.66 days. In that time, if we are not rescued first, we will be forced to create a new door."
"Oh, come on, there's no need to be a party-pooper."
"I am merely stating facts."
"We have bigger problems though."
"You are referring to the apparent lack of fauna in our immediate vicinity?"
"Yeah. I'd expect our crash to scare a lot of them off, but we went pretty far out getting everything this morning, and I didn't see anything. I saw a couple fruit trees around, but without any protein..."
Spock nodded. "What do you propose?"
"I don't know, Spock. I don't suppose you saw any fish in that stream of yours did you?"
"I did not; however, that was not the focus of my trip, so I did not exert an extreme amount of effort to that purpose."
James sighed, thinking. His eyes staring distantly into the middle ground. "I don't know what we're going to do if I can't find anything to eat except fruit.
"Plants would not evolve fruit without the animals necessary to distribute the seeds consumed."
"That's true..." James said, glancing over at his companion, noticing Spock's hands resting limply in his lap. "Are they stiff?"
"Are what stiff?"
"Your hands. Keeping them wrapped up like that will help the scratches heal, but it's probably not great for blood flow, here." James reached out for Spock who pulled his hands back to his chest.
"That will be unnecessary."
"I don't care; give me your hand."
"No."
"Why not."
Spock remained silent.
"I'll be careful not to hurt your hands. I know they're sensitive; they could probably do with a massage, and you know it, so give me your hand."
With a mildly resigned look, Spock settled himself opposite James and allowed his hand to reach out.
James wrapped his fingers gently around Spock's hand and began to squeeze gently over the palm. From the tips of Spock's fingers up past his wrist, James worked his way around Spock's hand silently, completely focused.
"I believe that hand has been sufficiently cared for," Spock said quietly a few minutes later.
James looked up to see Spock staring at their hands, his face lightly tinged green. "You okay?" he murmured. "I'm not hurting you?"
"No," Spock breathed. "As I mentioned yesterday, my hands are very sensitive. It is only that they are not merely sensitive, but also an erogenous zone."
"Seriously?" James laughed, glancing at Spock's crotch. "Wow, you're not kidding." He released Spock's hand, looking away bashfully. "Sorry."
"It is of no consequence," Spock said, holding out his other hand. "and you are correct that with proper circulation, my hands will heal faster."
"You sure it's alright?"
"I am positive."
"Okay then." James took Spock's second hand into his, beginning his massage, trying to ignore the way Spock's breathing had picked up, the heat permeating James' fingers through the bandages. "You think we've ever done this before?"
"I doubt severe abrasions are a particularly frequent part of our daily lives, or my hands would have significant scar tissue."
"No, I mean... maybe... I don't know, this just feels kinda familiar, like we've done this before when your hands weren't all sore and wrapped up."
Spock was silent for a bit at that. "I do not know. I have no evidence to confirm or deny your theory."
James nodded silently, going back to his massage. A few minutes more, and he was forced to admit Spock's hand was as circulated as he was going to get it, anything more would be simply gratuitous and an invasion of Spock's privacy.
"There you go," James said, letting go of Spock's hand. "All better."
"I believe it would benefit me to have you repeat these actions every 8.94 hours until I have healed completely."
"You're okay with that?" James asked softly.
"Why would I not be?"
"Just..." James trailed off awkwardly, his stomach growling into the silence between them. "Sorry. Uh... I think I'm gonna take one of our packs and gather up some grub. Maybe I'll run into a deer or something."
Spock nodded, following James into the main room, except he never got farther than that.
"Agh, what's that smell?" James asked. "It's coming from- oh shit."
"I believe you are correct," Spock said, amusement apparent even while he copied James example, lifting the collar of his shirt to cover his nose.
"Dammit. It didn't even occur to me he'd need to... go sometimes."
"I admit I neglected to prepare for the inevitability either."
"Nose goes?" James asked hopefully, putting a finger over where his nose was hidden beneath his shirt.
"That will be unnecessary. I suggest you proceed with your plans to locate edible fruit for us. I will clean 'Clint' and fashion an easier means to care for this in future." Spock said, entering the cabin. James felt Spock was very brave to volunteer.
"Ugh. I suddenly have a whole new set of reasons to hope he wakes up soon."
"Only two," Spock countered, and James laughed heartily.
"Alright, Spock. I'll see you in a bit."
~
That evening, sitting down to dinner of fruit and a meager portion of protein nubs, James said into the silence, "It's interesting."
"To what do you refer?"
"That we have no small talk. I know absolutely everything about you that you know about me and vice versa."
"An interesting observation."
"I suppose we could speculate."
"To what purpose?" Spock asked, plainly baffled.
"To give us something to talk about? All this silence is unnerving."
"If that is your request, I believe you to have been someone of authority," Spock said simply.
"What makes you say that?" James asked, biting into an apple-like fruit. It's skin harder than a traditional apple, but much juicier, dribbling over his mouth and chin.
"All of your plans have been both spontaneous and well thought out. You think quickly in a crisis and act selflessly, most of the time."
James chuckled at the allusion to his earlier reluctance to clean up their third companion. "Thanks. You're pretty quick on your feet too though. Maybe we were partners?"
"I have speculated that myself," Spock said.
James looked up, but Spock's face as a blank mask. He could have sworn he heard something else in his new? old? friend's voice. Shrugging it off, James said with conviction, "Doctor."
Spock's eyebrow shot up. "What evidence gives you such confidence?"
"You're so good with your hands, and you don't mind dealing with..." James gestured to the room where 'Clint' was resting quietly. Thankfully, Spock had not only cleaned him up, but had also had the forethought to open the 'door' and allow fresh air to circulate the stale air out of the shuttle.
"Indeed," He said simply.
"Well." James rubbed sticky fingers off on his dark clothes. "I don't know about you, but I think I need a bath."
Spock nodded. "I had noticed the tendency for your species to sweat during manual labor would require frequent bathing to manage the produced odors."
James laughed. "Oh wow. You just said I smell didn't you."
"I did no such thing."
"You did," James crowed. "I don't believe it."
Spock simply gave James a silent stare.
"Uh-huh. Sure." James smirked, grabbing up the spare blanket and heading out.
Chapter 2