Exhaustion

Disclaimer: Unfortunately none of these characters belong to me; I'm only borrowing them...

Author's Note: This was written in a very sleep deprived state after my seventh night shift... because no matter how much you want to keep going, there comes a point when you just have to stop. Also, I'm English... so please forgive the non-American spelling.

First Fic, any constructive comments welcome!

AN2 – Now corrected for the fact that I can't spell – even in English!

Captain James T Kirk squinted at the forward display of the Enterprise as he tried to decipher the data being transmitted from the engine room. Over the past few hours (or was it days?) since the black hole, he had gone through the whole spectrum of tiredness. He'd started to yawn not long after they'd escaped the event horizon and he'd now reached the stage where he was having trouble seeing straight. The minute he stopped concentrating, the data started to morph into a blurred mass.

The more he stared at the screen, the more intrusive his headache became. It had started after he'd woken from Bone's chemical cocktail and had only got worse with his exhaustion. The combination of no sleep & too much adrenaline, when coupled with so many foreign substances flowing around in his bloodstream, was not turning out to be a particularly good one. He snorted, after all, with a friend like this – who needed enemies? Although he had to admit that he would have preferred Bones on one of his missions to the giant Romulan any day.

Looking around the bridge, he experienced a sudden rush of happiness – at least it had all worked out in the end, at least they were all still alive. He would have preferred it if Bones had worked out a different way of smuggling him onto the ship, one with less unpleasant side effects for the unfortunate 'victim', but they were alive... unlike so many of his fellow cadets.

He tired mind forgot the contents of the report for Starfleet command that Lieutenant Uhura was trying to collate, as he remembered all of the cadets that were still missing in action. Those who, but for a moment of frustration at the sheer unfairness of the Kobayashe Maru, he could have joined in their silent grave amongst the wreckage of Vulcan. He consciously tried to drag his mind back to the mundane status reports they were sending to Starfleet, and managed a whole thirty seconds of attention before his mind was off again. This time, trying to think of another way that he could have stowed away. It was a measure of how tired he was that all he could think of was just getting on the shuttle and pretending he was meant to be there. It was a Jim-Kirk original, straight, to the point, and utterly ludicrous. He was just trying to work out the chances of success without being arrested by security and sent straight to the brig, when...

"Keptin?" The query came from Chekhov, and Jim came back to himself with a start. He realised that half the bridge now appeared to be looking at him. Spock in particular had a strange look in his eyes that might almost be mistaken for concern if he actually believed that the Vulcan was capable of showing any emotion.

"Yes?" He replied, hoping to cover his momentary zone-out, and encourage Chekhov to further explain whatever it was that he had said during his little day dream.

Thankfully, whatever Mr Chekhov had wanted to ask him had to wait, as Scott hailed him from the engine room. His ear was treated to a long rant that started off about the feasibility of using sub-light engines to return home but which then managed to meander into how he was convinced that Admiral Archer's beagle was probably just hiding out simply because it was in a mood about... something and wasn't lost in space/time at all. He knew that there must have been a connection between the two but he'd gotten lost somewhere between the warp drive and the dog.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on what he could remember of the start of the conversation and attempted to convert the science-speak into English – Bones wasn't the only one who wasn't a physicist.

Gritting his teeth, he turned his attention to the flow of speech coming over the radio, which had somehow moved onto the subject of whether Scott would be allowed to requisition a giant Hoover to clean up a little green alien that had apparently taken up residence in his engine room...

"Mr Scott?" He was aiming for calm and authoritative but he suspected it came out as more of a tired grouch.

"Huh?"

Scotty was obviously not used to being interrupted in mid-rant. Jim wondered whether the little green alien currently inhabiting the engine room had ever bothered to try and get a word in edgeways or whether it had just gone with the flow and nodded in all the right places.

"So, given what you just told me, what do you expect our ETA to be at Earth?"

Again, Jim attempted 'reasonable' but it came out with more of an edge. This earned him another quick sideways glance from Spock. He'd have missed it if he hadn't been watching the Vulcan covertly. It wasn't that he didn't trust him, it was just he remembered the Vulcan's hands around his throat only too well, and he definitely didn't want a repeat of that little scene.

"Errr, sorry Captain. What I was trying to say was that there's going to be a delay. With the ejection of the warp cores we're unable to use the warp drive and are dependent on sub-light engines. It'll be another four to five days before Starfleet command can bring us a replacement core that's compatible. This new design is great but it's not like they've got a spare warp core for brand new ships hanging around in the store cupboard. There was a reason why the commander asked you not to scratch her!"

Jim sighed, his headache returning with a vengeance. He enjoyed being captain, it made him feel alive in ways that he'd never experienced before and made him feel closer to his father than he'd ever felt in his life. He felt completely at home sitting in the Captains chair, even if he did wish that it had a higher back so it provided a little more support. His head kept dipping as he struggled to stay awake.

He hadn't felt like this since after his infamous "car incident" when he was thirteen. The sheer adrenaline rush of simply being alive after such a close call – there was nothing like it. However, right now, he was coming down from said adrenaline rush and, quite bluntly, he wouldn't have minded warping back to earth. Or, failing that, any bed in the near vicinity – he wasn't fussed.

Commanding a ship in the heat of the moment seemed to come naturally to him, his self confidence and natural bounce had carried his crew along with him. He was just relieved that he'd been right. That he had been able to match Nero's unpredictability, save Earth and keep his promise to Captain Pike. But the heat of the battle had passed now and he was faced with the problem of a starship manned entirely by an exhausted, inexperienced crew, with a far from experienced Captain. It was enough to make him think longingly of cruising along the wide, open Idaho roads so long ago.

Sighing, he turned back to Chekhov and slowly waded through the thorny task of deciding what, exactly, they were going to transmit to Starfleet. His crew were all fresh out of the academy and remembering how to compose a report for a senior officer was difficult enough, without having to deal with the contents. Jim wasn't sure how long he'd continue to sit in this chair once his report crossed the vast distances back to earth. Stowing away, mutiny, disobeying every order and protocol he'd ever been taught... not exactly the kind of thing Jim wanted to put in the report of his first command.

Sighing, he turned to the next problem at hand, discussing with his department heads how best to go about the repairs to the ship. Thankfully Scott had remained in the engine room to continue with the repairs, so he only had to cope with his comments coming through his earpiece. He suspected it would have been harder to ignore him if he was standing around on the bridge. Knowing him, he would probably start tinkering with the bridge consoles in an effort to 'improve' them. He really didn't have the energy to cope with his bridge consoles suddenly going offline when the engineer got his hands on them – he really had enough on his plate as it was.

The gravity-well of the black hole hadn't been kind, crushing & stressing his ship in a million different ways. He really hoped that Captain Pike wouldn't be too angry about the rather large 'scratches' that had occurred on the paintwork during his watch. He started, suddenly realising that his input was required again. At least this time he hadn't zoned out so much, that he hadn't been able to follow the thread of the conversation.

After several minutes of discussion, he nodded at the other department heads and watched as they left one by one, heads deep in discussion about the work ahead. He turned back to watch the activity on the bridge and came face-to-face with someone he definitely didn't want to see for the foreseeable future. He had hoped that he'd left with the other department heads to oversee the organisation of the over-stressed sick bay.

"Bones! What can I do for you?" Maybe if he sounded energetic and healthy he would be spared the visit to the medical bay that he could see rapidly approaching in his future.

"Walk with me?" Bones requested "I need to discuss Captain Pike's situation as well as several other.... issues."

Jim glanced at him out of the corner of his eye wondering what he was up to. Normally Bones didn't do subtle, he was one of the most straightforward men that Jim knew – what you saw was literally what you got... even when you didn't really want to hear it. After a couple of moments he realised he was daydreaming again and reluctantly hoisted himself out of the captain's chair.

It was only when he was halfway up that he realised he'd perhaps made a tactical error as his head began to swim, and his vision began to cloud over. He felt his legs beginning to give way and would have made an undignified heap on the floor if it hadn't been for two pairs of hands gripping him, guiding him back into his chair and gently pushing his head between his knees.

He came back to himself a few seconds later to find the bridge crew hurrying to obey Spock as he snapped orders at them; thankfully they appeared to have decided to ignore his little episode. He quietly thanked the nearest convenient deity for the loyalty of his crew, and for the fact that they were all more than a little afraid of the Vulcan after his display of temper earlier.

He took a deep breath and was about to try again when a strong hand landed on his shoulder, pressing him down into his seat, and a concerned face drifted in front of him.

"When was the last time you slept Jim? Heck, when was the last time you ate?!" Bones demanded of him, feeling his pulse with one hand, and discretely waving the scanner over him with the other.

Jim opened his mouth to answer before realising that he really couldn't remember. He'd grabbed the odd bite to eat when he could. Scotty had gone on a food-hunting mission after he'd found his towel on their return from the ice planet and he'd bought back enough for the entire bridge crew (and then refused to share any). Jim had managed to grab a few mouthfuls anyway; although the way the man acted, you'd have thought he'd stolen his life's savings, not one of his sandwiches. But sleep? That was a difficult one! He hadn't slept since before the hearing, back on earth. However long ago that was. He got the feeling that more time had passed than 24 hours, but they'd been so busy, one thing after another, with never a moment for him to pause, catch his breath or close his eyes for a second.

"Jim? Jim!"

He dragged his attention back to his oldest friend in Starfleet and tried to give him a weak smile.

"I'm fine" He insisted, trying to ignore the exasperated eye rolling that was coming from his doctor friend.

"Look Jim, there are two ways that we can do this. Either you come with me to get checked out in the infirmary under the pretence of seeing Captain Pike, or I'll get Spock to hold you down and I'll sedate your arse into next week!" Bones hissed, trying to keep his voice low enough so that the rest of the bridge weren't aware of the conversation.

Unfortunately this didn't appear to have worked very well.

"It is indeed the logical thing to do captain" Spock stated, before turning and berating one of the junior communication techs for an error in her report.

Jim sighed "You win" he grumbled. "I'll come with you and get checked out, but then I'm coming straight back here. You hear me? You're not drugging me again today, I've had enough of that!"

"We'll see" was all that Bones replied, before sticking out his hand and hauling him slowly to his feet.

This time he felt less dizzy and he was able to turn to his second in command without swaying too much.

"You have the Conn Mr Spock. I need to go and check on Captain Pike. Please start rotating the crew, and staggering sleep-shifts"

"It is the logical thing to do Captain" Spock intoned. "I will see that it is done".

Holding his head high, he walked the ten steps to the transporter with only a little bit of weaving. He took advantage of the pause before the transporter reached its destination to find a bit of wall that looked like it might be about to fall down and proceeded to prop it up with his body... At least that's what he liked to think.

Bones hovered by his Captain and friend, ready to catch him when he fell because he could see the signs coming a mile off. He'd suspected this moment was going to come ever since he'd seen the condition of Jim after he'd returned from the Romulan ship. It was always like this at the academy; Jim would continue to push himself until he'd reach complete exhaustion. At this point he'd usually find a quiet corner to curl up in and not emerge for 48 hours. Unfortunately he didn't think that was going to be an option right now.

There was a slight whoosh as the transporter doors opened into the med bay and Bones felt the chaos reaching out to him once again.

"Come on Jimbo" he muttered, and strode out into the busy med bay, heading for the nurses desk where he could see Nurse Chapel doing something to the remote monitors.

It was only when he failed to hear any protest at the nick-name that he realised that something was wrong. He swiftly turned back to the transporter and was just in time to catch his friend as he once again took a dive for the floor.

Jim had managed to hold it together until the transporter doors had softly opened, he'd even tried to follow the sarcastic doctor out into the infirmary when his legs had started to give way.

This time there was no chair to hold him, just the floor and a grey softness which seemed to be closing in on him. He sighed and let go, slumping down to the transporter floor in a boneless heap.

-x-