Alright, this might be a little long.

First of all, thanks a ton to everyone who reviewed this. I was going to respond, but then I realized that I have the same ability to communicate with people on the internet as I do off the internet. That is, absolutely none. But you are all wonderful and I really appreciated it! Second of all, a full write-up of Jack's misadventures is in the works, including the requested sleep deprived human vs. Vulcan. It will eventually happen. I'm just glacially slow and a massive procrastinator. If breathing wasn't automatic I'd put it off until the last second. Finally, I hope this is a good follow-up to the first part, because it was originally just supposed to be a one-shot and done, but then it ate my brain and decided to run off into the wild blue yonder. We'll see how it goes.

I don't own anything recognizable in this. Enjoy.

((()))

Jack was, well, he was confused. Not in a bad way, mind you, but he had definitely expected some sort of comeuppance for a) shredding the engines, and b) being the worst diplomat to ever exist in the history of Starfleet. He wasn't even getting any weird looks from Mr. Spock, and he happened to work in Mr. Spock's favorite lab, so their paths had crossed several times in the last couple of days.

He had given his name in his report, hadn't he? The memory was smeared around a bit, but he distinctly remembered, because the entire ship had started rattling around him when he said it: Jackson Ottoway.

It was bizarre, honestly, because the command personnel usually went out of their way to interact with people who managed to differentiate themselves from the masses. It didn't really matter if it was good or bad, and he'd definitely created a negative differentiation with his little using-a-belt-to-hold-the-engine-together stunt. He was fairly certain the whole ship had heard Mr. Scott's howl of unending rage when he finally got around to looking at the engine room.

…Maybe Captain Kirk just hadn't found the reports yet. It made sense, why would the captain check his own logs to see what happened to the suspicious blank spot in his memory?

Jack nodded to himself and refocused on his task: peeling apart the emissions of a meteor sample. It kept warping sub-space transmissions, and it surrounded the space station they were recuperating at. If nothing else, it explained why he hadn't been able to get in touch with them despite 'fixing' the arrays to the best of his abilities, but it left them a little stranded as they tried to figure out how to send for replacement engine parts.

It was just not their week, was it?

The overgrown mass-spectrometer purred happily as it munched apart the sample, and Jack tried very hard to not fall asleep while he listlessly paged through the readouts. Doctor McCoy had given him a once-over in which he was summarily told he was in perfect health and to lay off the caffeine, but he was exhausted.

He hadn't had time to crash yet, what with the mandatory medical checkups for everyone and his shift unmercifully deciding to come up right afterward, and being unconscious for five hours wasn't nearly enough recuperation in his opinion.

"Mr. Ottoway, are you quite well?"

Jack nearly jumped out of his skin when Mr. Spock materialized behind him. He knew! He was coming to get him and throw him into the brig! He was…asking about his health?

Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw his Vulcan superior raise a brow in a mildly concerned fashion, probably because of the alarming wobble his knees had just given, and tried to divert attention away from himself as quickly as possible. "Fine! I'm fine, just…thinking."

Spock looked skeptical, but thankfully let it go and turned to converse with the newest addition to the lab. One Gabler, who was just as confused about his promotion as everyone else, looked almost incandescently happy that Spock wanted to know what he thought about the trace amounts of antimony in the rock fragments.

Jack was pretty sure Gabler and him were name-buddies. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, because the little guy was kind of sneaky and a shameless suck-up, but also really good at his job and relatable in that he was just as terrified of his superior officers as Jack was.

Maybe Jack could convince him to take all the credit for his massively botched foray into the command limelight, he seemed like the kind of person who'd jump at recognition. Of course, that would mean admitting to his massively botched foray, which brought up another question.

Morally speaking, did he have to tell the captain where his reports were? And, in so doing, did he have to own up to everything? Because he'd really rather not. He had decided to take his What Would Kirk Do approach and shove it for the time being in the interests of his personal sanity.

With two hours left on gamma shift, Jack resigned himself to bouncing random radiation frequencies off his remaining samples while Gabler preened over in the corner. Maybe he'd get lucky and something would disintegrate.

((()))

His shoot and pray approach had, unsurprisingly, failed, but it helped him keep awake. What kept him less awake was Yeltz dragging him to the mess hall for dinner and trying to talk about her drama with Steel.

Jack did not want to get involved with that particular issue. Instead, he got her rolling on the subject of Gabler and proceeded to fall asleep face first into his salad.

As he fell blissfully unconscious, Jack caught the start of Yeltz's indignant rant about fair-weather friends and how she would have still sat with Gabler if the captain had suddenly started inviting her to eat with him.

He woke up a couple of seconds later with a yelp when she pinched him in the side. Hard.

"Why would you do that?" Jack rubbed gingerly at his side and glared at his friend. She glared back much more effectively than he ever could.

"When I'm gossiping, I expect you to listen." She flicked his nose, then added, "You've got lettuce on your face, you know."

Before Jack could respond, he felt his approaching doom settle behind him and irritably clear its throat. He nearly gave himself whiplash turning to face Doctor McCoy, who gave him a supremely unimpressed look. "What's this I hear about you swooning in the middle of your shift?"

Instead of the calm and rational denial Jack had been planning, or even blaming a sudden case of vertigo, he blurted, "I don't swoon, why do people keep saying that?"

Doctor McCoy gave him a suspicious and squinty-eyed look Jack thought was reserved for the captain and asked, "Where have you been lately?"

"In the Astrophysics lab?" Jack didn't know what the CMO wanted, but it wasn't that judging from his derisive snort.

"Before that, Lieutentant, before that."

Well, he was running around the ship and ruining everything within sight, but that obviously wasn't going to fly as an answer. "I was…unconscious. Yes. Just like everyone else."

The Eyebrow of Doom made an appearance. Never a good sign. "I'm old, not senile. Where did you lose conciousness? From what we've seen, some parts of the ship were hit harder than others, and you might be one of the ones still suffering side effects."

"The…um…the Astrophysics lab?" Why was he so bad at lying? "I've already seen you, Doctor, and you said I was fine."

"Hmm." The good doctor didn't look too convinced, and Jack couldn't blame him. Anyone who believed him probably needed a trip to Sickbay on account of being dumb as a rock.

To his eternal shock, Doctor McCoy scrutinized him one last time and swept away instead of demanding answers. Jack watched him stalk back to his seat next to Mr. Spock, and was thoroughly disturbed when the man turned to Mr. Spock and smiled like the cat who got the canary.

CMO's smiling like that lead to nothing good. It was a universal truth of Starfleet, like how death was exponentially more likely the friendlier an alien population was, or that giant things floating in space always wanted to kill you.

Yeltz gently turned him back to face forward, breaking his train of though and peeling something off his cheek. She waved a rather robust leaf of lettuce at him. "You do realize this was on your face the entire time?"

Jack groaned in mortification and buried his head in his arms, mashing his face back into the salad by accident. If he didn't get to sleep soon he was going to kill someone.

((()))

Seventeen blissful hours later, Jack woke up feeling a little muzzy but wonderfully refreshed. He had a good feeling about today. Everything would go back to normal, Doctor McCoy would be his usual grumpy self, and Jack could return to barely existing on the ship-wide radar.

He lazily swung his gaze to the old-fashioned analogue clock Yeltz had foisted upon him, and his blood ran cold.

He was two hours late for his shift.

The next ten minutes passed in a mad scramble as he tried to put himself together and simultaneously run down to the astrophysics laboratory. Jack skidded in front of the lab in record time, hopping on one foot as he yanked on his boot, and nearly fainted as the door slid open to reveal a supremely disappointed Mr. Spock.

He was going to DIE.

"Mr. Ottoway, where have you been?"

Jack's mouth moved, but no sound came out. He managed a quiet, airy whine after a bit of effort.

"You are aware gamma shift started over 2.153 hours ago?" Mr. Spock's eyebrow ratcheted up higher at Jack's mildly hysterical and rapid nod, but he continued, "As this is your first offence, I shall only revoke your access to recreational activities for the next twenty-four hours. Do not be late again, Lieutenant."

"Yessir. It won't happen again, sir. Sorry sir." Jack masterfully repressed the urge to burst into happy tears as the Vulcan strode down the hallway after giving him a considering look. That wasn't half as bad as he thought it was going to be.

Letting loose a deep, relieved sigh, he waved to Gabler and settled back into his station. Now that he wasn't about to expire from exhaustion, the readings were making much more sense. In fact, he was fairly certain an alternating pattern of some sort could destabilize them enough to render them ineffective, judging by how his readouts. It was kind of like what he and Not-Spock did to fix the crew's synapses, but more…moresome.

"Gabler! Come here, I've got an idea." An idea of this magnitude needed two people to carry it out, of course. Then he could split the glory and avoid any kind of awkward congratulations if it worked, or split the shame if it exploded.

Gabler, to his credit, caught on quickly to the idea after looking at Jack's readings. They had the frequencies that had impacted the emissions, they just needed the resonance, and so they went about experimenting. The guy might not have been the most masterful at dealing with electromagnetics, but he certainly knew how to set up a test-trial.

The largest sample they had went onto a small pedestal in the middle of the lab, surrounded by little emitters and speakers, while the two of them crouched on opposite sides of the makeshift table with communicators.

It kind of looked like a shrine, and turning off the lights to reduce background radiation as much as possible only added to the mildly creepy atmosphere. This only occurred to Jack, of course, after the door slid open to admit Captain Kirk, who briefly looked like he had been knocked for a loop when two of his crewmen sitting in the dark around a softly glowing stone yelled, "No!" and "My readings!" instead of welcoming him in.

The captain's shock only lasted a blink or two, but it was enough time for Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy to peer around him and into the room. Doctor McCoy, in all of his southern gentility, drawled, "You two startin' up a cult?"

Jack was saved from having to answer when Mr. Spock replied, "Illogical, doctor, these two are obviously conducting an experiment on the effects of the electromagnetic spectrum on our asteroid problem. What are your findings, gentlemen?"

And science promptly spattered everywhere as the two scientists excitedly explained their alternating cancellation theory. Jack really couldn't help himself, it was just so exciting, and Mr. Spock had gotten that spark in his eye that meant a breakthrough was around the corner, which honestly just fanned the flames.

He was so far gone into SCIENCE that when Mr. Spock asked if it drew inspiration from his anti-corrosion ray, he said "Yes, exactly!" without really thinking about it. Then he realized what he said and almost whacked himself upside the head. He was so bad at secrets.

All three of his commanding officers stared at him in the ensuing silence, which was highly disconcerting, until Doctor McCoy once again shattered it. "Ha! Take that you green-blooded computer, I told you it wasn't Gabler!"

Gabler, the little traitor, decided to cut his losses and made a beeline for the door at the declaration of his innocence. The three let him through with barely any acknowledgement beyond polite nodding, which Jack rather resented, because they looked like they weren't going to let him try that any time soon.

Instead of running for the door behind him, like Jack really, really wanted to, he politely asked the computer to turn the lights back on and decided to act like a professional. He didn't think it would be too hard, even Doctor McCoy pulled it off every now and then.

"So," Captain Kirk stepped further into the room, pinning Jack with a look that was both amused and serious, "you're the one Scotty wants to get his hands on."

"It was an accident!" Jack internally cringed even as the excuse jumped out of his mouth. The captain didn't tolerate excuses, or people panicking at his presence like a green ensign. Professionalism. "I mean, it was…I was…there were extenuating circumstances. Sir."

Doctor McCoy sighed at him as if he were the cause of all the problems in the world. Which, to be fair, he kind of was at this point. "You're not in trouble, Ottoway, we're tryin' to thank you."

This was…unexpected. Jack slowly blinked as his brain scrambled for an answer, but he couldn't think of anything that had really gone right beyond no one being permanently damaged, and even then there were broken limbs and major concussions. "But…why?"

Jack could have gone his whole life without experiencing three incredulously raised eyebrows at once, thanks, but Kirk spoke before he could continue. "Why not? You behaved admirably under pressure, prevented four hundred needless deaths, and haven't stepped forward to claim any credit. Is there any particular reason for that, or are you just unfathomably humble?"

Was the captain teasing him? He totally was! But no matter, Jack was too busy fumbling with an answer to fully appreciate the mind-boggling reality. "I thought you'd be mad!" Great, now he saw six incredulously raised eyebrows. "I-I nearly flew us into a star!" Still nothing. "I stole from Sickbay and broke Doctor McCoy's computer!" Now they were looking nonplussed on purpose, he was sure of it. "I made deals with Klingons and almost committed treason! I caused an interplanetary incident with those crazy turtle people! I mutilated the engine room and probably got melted plastic everywhere! We're all stranded right now because of me!"

"Ya know," Doctor McCoy cut through Jack's increasingly hysterical list of crimes as if he wasn't speaking, "you're psych eval says you're excessively negative, but this is taking things a bit far."

"Indeed." For the first time since coming aboard, Jack repressed the urge to scowl at Mr. Spock. It wasn't excessive, it was realistic.

"Unfortunately for you, Starfleet absolutely agrees with you. They've been howling for the blood of 'John Smith' since before we arrived at the station." Jack blanched at the admittance, but Captain Kirk shot him a reassuring smile as he continued, "Fortunately for you, I disagree with their conclusion. As long as you refrain from unauthorized contact with extraterrestrials and never set foot in Scotty's realm again, you'll be fine."

Jack's eyes were probably as big as saucers at this point. "Really?"

"I can't promise anything if Scotty realizes it was you who tampered with his Lady, but yes." The captain's smile took on a wicked edge. "I don't suppose you'd want a medal for your actions?"

The absolutely horrified look Jack shot him was enough to send Doctor McCoy into a suspicious 'coughing' fit.

Before Jack could recover his wits, Spock simply said, "Well done, Mr. Ottoway," and Vulcan and Captain walked off side by side. Apparently they were done with the whole affair.

Jack didn't bother to hide the goofy smile. A word of approval from Mr. Spock was better than a medal. Lots of people got medals, Starfleet probably handed one out every day, but getting praise from the Vulcan was like winning the lottery during a blue moon while Klingons beamed down to declare eternal peace for the galaxy.

In other words: pretty awesome.

He was jolted out of his joyful internal preening when the Doctor huffed impatiently and planted himself in front of Jack. "Well, get goin'."

Jack felt like he had been doing a lot of uncomprehending staring lately. Doctor McCoy didn't seem phased by it. "You're comin' with me, and we're doing a full physical, not that preliminary hogwash from before. Who knows what kind of damage you've done to yourself?"

"But…I'm fine."

That earned Jack a bone-chilling glare. "You're not fine 'til I say so, Lieutenant, now move! Spock's already got someone else on your little cult-project, so you've got no excuses. While we're walking, we can have a little chat about proper stimulant usage." Jack decided to just cut his losses and morosely followed behind the disturbingly cheerful CMO to his new doom.

At least he hadn't ended up in the brig. Again.