Fic: As Morning Shows the Day, aka 'Untitled Kid!Spock', [part 2]

[jade_dragoness]

Title: As Morning Shows the Day [Part 2]
Author: J.D. aka jade_dragoness
Rating: PG-13, for language. Gen [still]
Pairing: K/S pre-slash/friendship
Status: WIP
Spoilers: Star Trek XI
Warning: Dangerous & Near Fatal Levels of Cuteness
Summary: Based on the switched version of the prompt: A de-aged fic where Spock has to take care of a kid-Kirk; preferably Kirk only listens to Spock, and freaks out when he's not around. (Or, you know, switched). Written for the st_xi_kink meme, found here.
Word Count: 5,500 for this part [total so far: 11,060]
Disclaimer: Never ever will be mine. *sadness*
A/N: Okay, I’m a little startled how fast this part came out. I’d thought it take me a week to get it done since that’s how long the first part took to write. Thank you to everyone that’s read part 1. I hope you enjoy this part too! Though, I’m asking forgiveness ahead of time for a terrible Scotty-accent!

Feedback is hugely welcomed. Feel free to point out any errors I missed.
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[“The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day” - John Milton ]
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[Part One]

Bones caught Jim’s eye and held up a hypospray, silently indicating Spock.

God, why is Bones’ answer to everything to hit it with a hypospray? Jim shook his head at him. He’d update Bones about what he’d found out from the Cromtician priest later on. Away from medical equipment.

“I wish to speak with my mother,” said Spock, his voice trembling. The hand holding Jim’s grew tighter. Desperate.

Jim guessed that Spock was freaking the fuck out right now. That he just had too much hitting him all at once. He felt rather guilty for leaving Spock behind without so much as a warning. The kid seemed to like him, had gotten to know him and even trusted him. Then Jim had gone and vanished on him. No wonder he’d trashed the medical bay and all while shouting that he wanted his mom.

Jim led them out and onto a turbolift before he answered Spock.

“I know that you miss her. I know you love her and I‘m sorry she‘s not here,” Jim said softly. As he said these words Jim realized that he’d never actually said them aloud to Spock before today, though he had thought them. He never did give him that apology that he should have. If Spock didn’t remember this conversation, Jim made a mental note to repeat those words to him again. Jim needed Spock to know that he meant them.

Right now though, he just hoped that Spock didn't ask too many questions about his mother‘s location. Jim would rather gnaw off his arm than tell this small Spock that his mother was dead. That she had had died on Vulcan with six billion of his people. Give him an armada of pissed off Klingons any day.

Spock didn’t say anything. His head was dropped forward, hiding his face from Jim’s gaze. That rather worried him.

“I‘m sorry I just left like that,” Jim continued, giving Spock’s hand a squeeze. He hoped he would look up.

Spock didn’t.

“I could say that I‘m the captain and so I‘m a very busy guy, but honestly - I didn't think. I was an asshole and I‘m very sorry I left you without first telling you where I was going.”

Spock’s head jerked up at this. Jim caught a flicker of shock in his eyes.

Guess Spock isn’t used to adults admitting they’re fallible. Or assholes.

“I won‘t do that again,” Jim promised, his voice serious. “I give you my word as captain that I won‘t leave you alone ever again.” And the promise felt serious in a way Jim hadn’t expected until he said it. As if the words were, not just for this child Spock, but also intended for the grown up version. “Can you believe me?”

“Yes, sir,” said Spock, in a whisper.

Jim let out a silent sigh of relief.

Then the lift doors opened as they arrived at the right deck. Jim lead them out, heading for the mess hall.

Jim smiled down at Spock. “So, why what do you want to eat? The ship has some pretty good food replicators. What‘s your favorite food?”

“It is illogical to label nutritional sustenance as being preferable to another,” Spock said primly. The hand holding Jim’s loosened to a more natural grip.

Jim held back a snort of amusement.

“Alright, how about you let me pick?” asked Jim.

That got him a nod of agreement and they walked through the opened double door leading into the mess hall.

As soon as they walked in, Jim realized that it probably would have been better to have eaten in the privacy of Spock’s quarters or even Jim‘s own. Because everyone there stopped eating and stared at the two of them. Only Jim’s very pointed glare made the crew members look away and get back to eating their foods but the damage had been done. Spock was tense again. As if he expected to be attacked at any moment.

“I know you‘re a vegetarian. So,” Jim asked, leading Spock over to an empty table, “how do you feel about tofu burgers?”

“I do not have a preference,” Spock said.

Jim dropped off Spock at the table, first making sure to adjust the chair so that Spock could actually reach the top before heading over to the food replicators to plug in their orders.

After he came back with the food, and setting the trays on the table top, Jim realized that he probably should have chosen a kid-sized meal for Spock. The tofu burger was about the size of the kid’s head. That wasn’t even counting the fries and soda that Jim had added to the tray. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to finish it off. Next time, Jim reminded himself, he‘d do better.

“Here you go,” said Jim, as he sat across from Spock.

Spock gave the burger a dubious look.

“May I inquire as to the protocol involved in consuming this item?” Spock asked, his angled brows scrunching together in mild puzzlement.

“Well, you pick it up with your hands and take a bite out of it,” answered Jim.

At ‘hands’ Spock shot him such a scandalized look that Jim couldn’t help but laugh.

“That is unsanitary,” said Spock, his tiny nose wrinkling just a little bit.

When he finally choked off the chuckles, Jim got up to get him a fork and knife. Spock took them with a thank you and proceeded to take the burger apart like it was machine.

Jim watched in fascination as Spock separated the bun, lettuce, tomato, onions rings, patty, and cheese. He gave each ingredient a few minutes scrutiny before moving on to the next. It wasn’t until he had disassembled the entire thing that he appeared satisfied with it. Then Spock carefully put it back together in the original order all the ingredients had first been on the burger. Jim would have sworn that they were even in their original positions. If only he’d taken note before Spock started playing with his food, then Jim would have been able to say so for sure.

It wasn't until Spock cut up a piece a burger and bit into it cautiously that Jim remembered he had his own meal to eat. He’d completely forgotten it in light of the dinner entertainment provided by Spock. He picked up his own fork and knife and began cutting into his steak with hungry zeal. He’d only been cleared to eat whatever he wanted by Bones yesterday. So, he was eager to eat something with protein as he had gotten quite sick and tried of oatmeal.

The small noise that Spock made as Jim took a bite made him stop quickly chewing.

Spock looked - well, for a lack of a better word - green around the gills.

He followed Spock’s gaze and with a start realized that he was staring at Jim’s meal. It took him a moment before he realized that Spock was reacting to Jim’s steak, which, while not rare enough that it practically moved, was still medium rare. That was rare enough for it to bleed as Jim had cut into it. And more than enough to trigger Spock’s reaction.

Jim stared down at his tasty meal and sighed. He got up, threw the steak into the recycler and ordered his own tofu burger.

By the time he got back to the table, Spock’s eyes were doing that pleased gleaming thing that Jim noted he did whenever something had pleasantly surprised him. Spock had the same look even as an adult. A look that Jim had quickly learned those first few weeks as the captain of the Enterprise when he proved that he actually knew what he was doing as the one in charge.

Spock went back to eating his burger, his second bite was more enthusiastic. Jim bite into his own burger, not bothering with a fork and knife. He was grateful that he didn’t have a problem with tofu.

Jim’s gaze flickered over to the crew, wondering how they were taking all this in. He was very happy to see that the crew had not only caught his desire to be left alone with Spock, but they were also making sure that any newcomers to the mess were being intercepted, and updated on Jim’s unspoken order, so that Spock and he could enjoy their meal in peace.

Damn, I have the best crew in Starfleet, Jim thought, not for the first time.

Of course, it didn’t last too long, because the duties of a captain didn’t let up even when said captain was playing at acting parental guardian for his very small first officer.

When Yeoman Janice Rand walked through the mess hall door, her shoulders were set back, her blonde hair was brushed into its pixie cut style and her expression was set on ‘I will kick your ass’. A look that Jim was suspiciously certain she’d learned from Uhura.

It was pretty much the usual expression that Jim was used to seeing on his personal assistant. The petite yeoman was the only one - other than Spock - whose duty involved chasing him down and making sure he was finishing his paperwork. And considering how much Jim hated reading all the reports filled by different departments as well as such mundane things as requisition forms, duty rosters and other tedious but necessary paperwork needed to run a ship the size of the Enterprise? It was nothing short of heroic how Rand would face the task of making him sign off on everything. Every single day.

Well, except on those days he was in medical, recovering from a wound or stuck on a planet for some reason. Reasons that usually involved blood, screaming and explosions.

There were times when Jim seriously thought that Starfleet, and he, owed her a medal for her dedication. Though he was rather afraid to encourage her. She was tenacious enough as it was.

“Yeoman,” Jim greeted her warily.

“Captain,” she said. She promptly handed him her PADD. “With the Commander out of commission, Dr. McCoy told me that he has released you for light duties. So, I need these signed.”

Damn, there went that excuse.

Jim briefly looked over to Spock, wondering if he could get him to sign off on these things since he hadn’t yet informed Starfleet of Spock’s change in status. Then he shook his head at himself. There was no reason to act cruel to the kid.

He touched open the screen that held the list of reports and winced to see that they numbered into the forties. “This is going to take a while, yeoman,” he sighed. “Why don‘t you get something for yourself while you wait. You can even stick around to make sure I get it done.”

“Aye, sir,” she said. “I’ll be right over there.” Her blue eyes flickered to Spock and there was an nearly imperceptible softening in her manner. She nodded at them, “By your leave, Commander. Captain.”

Spock’s brown eyes were wide again as he stared after Rand. To Jim it was clear that he was surprised by the show of respect.

“I did tell you that you’re the first officer, didn‘t I?” Jim said smiling. “I know that it‘s hard to tell, but the whole crew likes and respects you.”

Spock’s eyes got that delighted and astonished look again.

On a hunch, Jim asked, “Spock, how old are you now?”

“I am 6 years, 2 months, 1 weeks, 5 days and 6.37 hours old, sir,” said Spock, before lifting the fork to chew on his burger.

He’s gained 3 days, Jim thought. He wondered if the mount of happiness that Spock felt directly correlated with how much age he gained.

If it did, then the greater the happiness the larger the age jump. The smaller the happiness, the smaller the jump. Jim also wondered if the duration of how long Spock felt happy had any affect on the age increase. That was just another one of those questions he’d have to pose to High Priest-Engineer Kret either next time he saw him or more specifically through Uhura, since Kret had returned to the planet by now.

It would be good to have some sort of idea of the time window involved to get Spock back to normal. The Enterprise had only five more days left in the Cromtician system. Five more days of negotiating for that starbase that Starfleet wanted, then they were off to chart a nebula. A nebula that was too close to the Romulan Neutral Zone for comfort. And definitely too close to have the Enterprise without its first officer and captain at 100 percent.

Well, he’d cross that bridge once he got to it. All he could do right now is focus on Spock.

A cleared throat brought him out of his thoughts and Jim looked over at Yeoman Rand who was looking at the PADD in his hands and glaring.

Right! Focus on Spock and get the paperwork done before Rand did terrible things to him. Jim bent his head, using one hand to eat his dinner and the other to scroll and sign reports.

By the time that Jim pulled himself out of the mind numbing paperwork, not only had he long since finished his burger but he was surprised to see that a good chunk of the mess hall had cleared out, with the sole exception of Rand who was still waiting for the PADD. Even more surprising to Jim, he saw that Spock had fallen asleep at some point and was now pillowing his head on his arms, his face relaxed, and a soft nearly inaudible sigh escaping his parted lips with every exhale.

Grinning at the adorable sight, Jim passed the completed PADD over to Rand. She took it with a nod.

Jim whispered, “Yeoman, have a midshipman from Maintenance send an extra bed to Mr. Spock‘s quarters. Also, see if they can fix the com-unit while they’re in there. It‘s kind of…err… broken.”

Rand blinked in surprise before nodding. “Yes, sir,” she whispered back, shooting one final glance at sleeping Spock before walking away.

Spock didn’t so much at twitch at their voices. Jim gently pulled away the trays from the table. He saw that Spock hadn’t even made it half-way through the burger and it looked like he hadn’t even touched the soda. Surprisingly, all the fries were gone. For future meals, Jim would have to remember that Spock liked them.

Jim had just put both trays into the recycler when Bones walked in.

“Jim, good. I was hoping you were still here,” McCoy said, his voice loud in the silent mess.

“Shhhh!” Jim hissed. He whispered, “The kid‘s asleep. I don‘t want to wake him up.”

Bones peered over at the table where Spock was sleeping and grinned. “So he finally crashed. It‘s about damned time.”

“You knew he‘d do that?”

“I was actually hoping he‘d do it in sickbay,” McCoy admitted. “I just didn‘t think he‘d trash it first.”

“Is that why you took forever?” Jim demanded, keeping his voice low. “I was so close to grabbing him and running out.”

“As if I wouldn‘t be able to find you again,” McCoy said smugly. “Anyway, those tests were perfectly legitimate, I wasn’t just wasting time with them.”

“Really? Even with the check to see if he had Tholian Fever?” Jim asked dryly.

McCoy flushed, “Alright, so I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“Just a little,” Jim agreed sarcastically. He shook his head in fond exasperation. That was Bones for you. “So, you want to tell me what you found out about the littlest commander in the 'fleet?”

“Only if you also tell me what you found out from the priest,” said McCoy. At Jim‘s surprised expression, he explained how the rumor mill was already churning out stories about the Cromtician‘s visit to the ship.

“You’ve got a deal,” Jim agreed.

They ended up sitting at the table nearest to the one where Spock was still sleeping. Far enough away so that their low voices shouldn’t disturb him but close enough to react quickly if he needed them.

McCoy explained his worries about the pressures Spock’s body would face as it grew older much faster than it should. And how he really wanted to keep Spock in sickbay so he could run continuous scans on him, just in case something cropped up.

“Do you really think that‘s a possibility?” Jim asked, now worried himself.

“I don‘t know, Jim. I wish I had a clue about the technology that was used on him. So far, he’s fine. His body isn‘t showing any stress, his muscles, bones and nervous system are all clear,” said McCoy. He rubbed his face. “Now tell me what you know.”

Jim told Bones everything he’d learned from Kret.

“That is different,” said McCoy, with a raised eyebrow.

“Tell me about it,” Jim sighed. “Can you imagine anything stranger? Trying to make a Vulcan, and not just any Vulcan - but Spock of all people - feel happy. Fortunately, the kid is easier to please than the grownup version. He‘s jumped three days since his tantrum.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw the change from the bio-sensor. Almost didn't catch it too. It helped that I had the previous age jump already in the computer to use as a comparison,” said McCoy, his voice distracted. “You know, Jim. It will probably get tougher to get Spock happy as he gets older. And I don‘t just mean because Spock is approaching puberty.”

They both took a moment to image that and shuddered in unison.

McCoy looked sick before he shook it off and continued, “The neural scans of his brain showed that he‘s getting his memory back. The original memory of living that time. And with it will come back all that Vulcan training on emotional suppression. The older he gets, the more training he‘ll have, the harder it will be to trigger his emotions.”

“Damn, I didn‘t think of that,” Jim admitted. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I have got to know how that Cub Sphere thing works. Because now I‘m wondering if it’s triggered by the production of serotonin. Or maybe even the levels of tryptophan in the body. Or if its something altogether different,” McCoy said, frustrated.

“You think it‘ll make a difference?” asked Jim.

“If it‘s based on something the body produces, then yeah. Vulcans control their own bodies to a degree that’s just plain impossible in a human. You‘ve seen Spock go into a healing trance to treat himself. That kind of thing only comes from tight control of the nervous system, endocrine system, etc. There‘s no way that it will be easy to get Spock to release that control just to cheer him up.”

“Double damn,” groaned Jim.

“Of course, if is based on serotonin, I can manufacture some of it to give to Spock to jump up his age again,” said McCoy, thoughtfully. He rubbed his chin as he turned over the idea in his head.

“You want to give Spock happy pills?” asked Jim, incredulously.

“Not pills, a quick hypo ought to do it,” answered McCoy. Jim gave him an exasperated look but Bones just grinned.

“Why don‘t we hold up on drugging him until the latest resort,” said Jim, dryly. “We still got a few days before the situation gets urgent enough to try such desperate measures.”

McCoy agreed. “Assuming of course, that‘s how it works. If it isn‘t something biochemical then I‘m plain out of ideas and out of my area of expertise.”

“Good point,” Jim said. “I‘ll get a hold of Scotty, and see if he has any ideas to throw into the pot. Kret is a High Priest-Engineer. Scotty‘s practically holds the exact same title. I‘m sure he‘ll be able to help, somehow. When Sulu goes on duty in the morning, I‘ll send you, him and Scotty down to the planet with Uhura to ask the priest those questions.”

McCoy grimaced at the idea. He grumbled, “Fine. But I‘m not doing this because I like the pointy-eared bastard.”

Jim smirked at him. “Give it up, Bones. You like arguing with him, I know you do. Don‘t try to tell me any different.”

“Not after what he did to my medical bay,” McCoy denied hotly.

Jim dismissed this protest with a wave of his hand, “Please, I wrecked it worse when I was high on those flowers from Getty V. You still like me.”

McCoy eyed him, “I beg to differ. I haven‘t forgiven you for that either. You still owe me a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon.”

Jim grinned wider. “Just think how much worse it would have been if it had been me who got turned into a kid. I probably would have blown a hole in the hull by now.”

McCoy froze, his eyes went glassy with a mix of horror and nausea. Then he shook his head and glared fiercely at Jim. “Thank you so much for that,” McCoy snarled. “Goddamnit! Now, I‘m going to have nightmares for weeks.”

“Speaking of dreams,” Jim said brightly. “I‘ve got to get Spock off to bed, can‘t have the first officer spending the night sleeping away in the mess hall, now can we?”

McCoy sighed and grabbed Jim before he made it a step. “Now, what did I tell you about exerting yourself?”

“But, Bones- he‘s six. He can’t hardly be more than fifty pounds,” argued Jim.

“He‘s a Vulcan, and heavier than he looks, remember. I‘m carrying him,” McCoy said firmly, standing up and heading for Spock.

Jim was torn between protesting and encouraging this idea. He kind of desperately wanted to see Bones carrying Spock around if only for the hilarity of the picture they‘d make. Although, he was more than a little leery of Spock’s reaction if he woke up. Jim rather doubted that Bones was one of Spock’s favorite people right now.

McCoy was already gently picking up Spock before Jim could articulate any of his arguments against the idea. He did it pretty expertly, with a minimum of movements, tucking Spock up against his body. He made sure that Spock’s head was cradled against his shoulder, and that his legs and arms dangled comfortably instead of being squashed.

It reminded Jim, that - out of all the senior officers - Bones had actual experience with raising a child of his own and knew what he was doing. Unlike himself, who was pretty much winging it. Jim had a feeling he would end up using Bones for more than medical advice in the future.

Once he was settled, Spock made a small grumble, low and sleepy. He shifted until he was tucking his head right under McCoy’s chin. He curled a hand to hold tight onto McCoy’s shirt before he stilled again. He smacked his small lips once and then made more of those soft sighing snores as he fell into deeper sleep.

Jim had to shove hand over his mouth to stop the laughter at Bones’ expression. Bones looked like he’d been hit upside the head with a two by four.

I guess he finally got hit by Spock’s adorable stick, Jim thought, grinning as he walked next to his friend as they left the mess. It’s about time! I was wondering how much longer he’d be able to resist him.

McCoy glared over Spock’s head at Jim, who widened his smile at his friend.

“This doesn‘t mean I like him,” insisted McCoy darkly. His face harsh and scowling but Jim didn’t buy it because Bones was also gently patting Spock’s back, as if to soothe any hurt caused by those words.

Spock mumbled something inaudible and tightened his hold on McCoy’s blue shirt.

“Yeah, you old softy. I can see how much you don‘t like him,” Jim whispered. By the time they walked into Spock’s quarters, McCoy was glaring at him while Jim openly gloated.

It didn’t take McCoy long to get Spock ready for bed. He just popped off his boots and the pulled off his outer blue uniform shirt and tucked him into bed. Jim watched all this with interest, taking mental notes. He knew that next time it would be his responsibility to see Spock to sleep.

“No pajamas?” Jim asked.

“That would really wake him up,” answered McCoy. “Next time, you‘ll have to get him ready before he falls asleep.”

Jim nodded in agreement. His expression was mischievous as he asked, “How do you think Spock will react to footie pajamas?”

McCoy stopped fussing with Spock’s blanket and gave Jim a blank look. Then he arched his eyebrow at him. “Footie pajamas? Do you want Spock to choke you again?”

“Come on, Bones. They are perfectly normal sleepwear for Earth kids,” Jim protested. “Everyone wears them. They‘re practically traditional.”

“I never wore them,” McCoy said. He moved off from the bed, to the outer receiving room.

Jim followed, “That‘s because you grew up in the South. The North, on the other hand, saw snow. I wore them.”

“Yes, and we know how perfectly normal you turned out,” said McCoy, dryly. “Stop trying to warp the kid. He has it tough enough as it is. He‘s letting you to take care of him, God help him.” McCoy paused for a moment. “Although, if you succeeded in getting him to wear it, take pictures. I got to have some kind of leverage on Spock. Do you know how hard it is to get him in for his routine check ups? I have to use threats! Which he argues against! I‘m quickly getting to the point where I‘ll have to start repeating myself.”

Jim grinned, listening with half an ear to Bones griping about Spock. He'd heard it so often that it was white noise and easy to tune out.

That’s when Spock shifted and sighed loud enough that it made McCoy shut up and they both turned to listen but Spock returned to being silent.

Jim shrugged at Bones.

“I better go before I wake him up. And since I got an away mission in the morning, I better get some sleep,” sighed McCoy.

“Alright, Bones. Sleep tight,” Jim said.

As the doors to the quarters opened, McCoy paused and then turned to Jim. Poking him in the chest.

“I nearly forgot. Since you insist that Spock stay here and not in sickbay, you‘ll need to run scans on him with a medical tricorder. Every other hour, all night,” McCoy said seriously. “The bio-sensor only records so much, and I‘ll need that data.”

Jim shot him a look of dismay. “But Bones-!”

“I‘ll send a nurse to bring you one. Log in the results in the computer. I‘m having the night shift keep an eye out for them so I‘ll know if you don‘t do it,” McCoy continued, not letting him get in a word edgewise.

“Fine, fine,” Jim agreed. “I‘ll do it. Just don‘t expect me to be a bucket of sunshine in the morning.”

“As if I haven‘t seen you pull off all-nighters before, and come out of them as fresh as a daisy,” McCoy said, rolling his eyes and walking away.

“Yeah, but I was getting laid then,” Jim grumbled under his breath.

Oh well, it wasn’t like he wasn’t already well rested. He’d been doing nothing but twiddling his thumbs and pestering his officers - especially grownup Spock - while recovering from his injuries. Bones had refused to so much as let him set foot on the bridge while he’d been convalescing. An order the normally Jim would have cheerfully ignored, if Bones hadn’t backed it with the threat of chemically castrating him for their next shore leave if he so much as thought of sitting on the captain’s chair.

That had been a threat that not only worked, but it also kept Jim off that deck level entirely. He nearly died of boredom until he realized that McCoy never said he couldn’t go elsewhere on the ship. So he’d wandered up and down the Enterprise. Peeking into corners that he’d never seen before. Into parts of the ship that even after six months as her captain he’d barely gotten to know. It had been on such an exploration trip that he’d gotten an urgent com-call requiring his presence in the medical bay because something had happened to Spock.

And there was an idea of the sort of things he could do with Spock later on.

Jim realized that he should plan ways to keep them both entertained for the next couple of days. Especially since he had to figure out ways to make Spock one happy little Vulcan. If it turned out that was the only solution they had to return Spock to normal then he’d better start figuring out the sort of activities that Spock would like.

One benefit they had going for them was that Spock had a blast just learning new things. If there was one thing this ship was chock-full of it was geniuses that were experts in a lot of different fields. As captain, Jim had no compunction about ordering them into helping him.

The science labs alone would be like a trip to a theme park for Spock. Of that, Jim had no doubt. Then there was the engine room. Spock was bound to enjoy looking at the warp core engine.

Speaking of which… Jim moved over to the computer and made certain that his orders for Sulu, Uhura, and Scotty were sent to their com-units so they knew to meet at the transporters at 0900 hours. He barely got finished entering the parameters of the mission into the ship’s log when the com-unit beeped to get his attention.

“Kirk here,” he answered. A window on the screen opened to reveal Scotty peering out at him.

“Captain! Oh good, I caught ye before ye went off to some well earned rest,” said Scotty.

At ‘captain’, Jim straightened up. This was official business. “How can I help you, Mr. Scott?”

“It‘s about that away mission in the morning, Captain. I‘m afraid I cannot do it. I 'ave been changin' the flow of the matter/antimatter matrix to fix a drop of output in the nacelles. I can not just leave the engines alone until it‘s done,” Scotty explained.

“Who authorized this?” Jim asked frowning.

“Mr. Spock, sir. Before he headed down to the planet and got turned into a wee laddie,” said Scotty.

Jim grinned at the idea of Spock being a ‘wee’ anything before becoming serious. He sighed, “Damn it.”

No wonder he hadn’t known. Spock probably hadn’t had time to update him on the situation before he’d been changed. Jim hadn’t yet checked Spock’s previous signed off orders, as he fully trusted his first officer. Obviously, he needed do that at some point soon. If this had caught him off-guard, there could be other things there too.

“If ye don‘t mind, Captain. I‘d rather send Keenser down to the planet,” said Scotty. “He‘s nearly as good as me at engineerin', and he‘s actually better with crystals than I am. Though, if ye repeat that to him, I‘ll deny it to my dyin' breath.”

Jim laughed at that. “Alright, Scotty. I‘ll change the orders. But if Keenser thinks that he needs your input, I‘ll end up sending you down there. The engines will be just fine without you for a couple of hours. Getting Spock back to normal is a top priority.”

“I wouldn’t be askin’ if I did not think it was important, Captain. We all want Mr. Spock back to normal,” said Scotty. “I‘ll let ye get back to what ye were doin'. Scott out.”

Jim nodded and closed down the window. He updated the files, including the away orders. As, soon as he was done, he stretched. Yawning and raising his arms above his head, sleepiness finally descending upon him like a hammer. Fortunately, Rand had the foresight to also send him a kit, with sleeping clothes, an extra uniform and other toiletries, along with the extra bed Jim had ordered.

While he may not be able to give her a medal, Jim decided he certainly owned her a commendation.

He was nearly done getting ready to head for bed when the nurse arrived at the door with the promised medical tricorder. After thanking him, Jim promptly ran a scan over the still sleeping Spock.

The boy, had shifted at some point and was now curled up on his side. A small fist was pressed to his mouth, and his feet were peeking out from under the blankets. His face was barely visible under a cave of blankets.

The scans came out perfectly normal for the young Vulcan. Jim logged the results as Bones had asked before crawling into bed. Tomorrow was another day, and he had the feeling that Spock would make it more exciting than it normally would have been.

He ordered the computer to wake him in two hours and then drifted off into a doze.

TBC in [Part Three]

a/n: To everyone who asked for MOAR McCoy. *shakes tiny fist at you* That fed the plot-bunnies, which is why this part got written so quick. =D