Disclaimer: I don't own anything Star Trek... I merely love playing with them when I get the chance. ^_^

A/N: The idea got stuck in my head and so I decided to write it down. But be aware that as much as I've tried to stay true to Star Trek, I am human and have probably made some mistakes here and there. This is my first Star Trek story, so be gentle, I'm still testing the waters and getting better aquainted with everything :) Haha, not to mention I've been reading through this section and have decided that there aren't nearly enough Limp!Jim stories... so I thought I'd lend a hand, lol


Chapter One:

Ignoring the Obvious

Today… today was hard.

He didn't even remember the last time he'd been shaken so deeply or harshly to his core. Today was definitely one that could be placed under 'close calls', and one that had threatened to nearly destroy the fragile fabrics that held him together.

"Captain," the familiarly calm voice of his first in command brought his attention to the Vulcan standing next to him.

Captain James T. Kirk regarded him with a nod of acknowledgement. The Vulcan, much like himself and many of the crew were covered in dirt and grime along with spatters of blood, several different colors and types of it in fact.

"You are injured," Spock informed him in a 'matter-of-factly' tone.

Jim looked down at his dirty uniform and took in the sight of the several cuts and blood that shown out starkly against his yellow shirt. "Scratches," Jim explained with a half-ass lopsided smile. "As for you," he paused, "it looks like you've been pretty banged up."

"Captain," Spock began with a serious expression. "Dr. McCoy will be expecting you for the routine checkup. Many of the crew have been injured."

"My injuries are minor Spock I can wait until everything has calmed down," Jim spoke gruffly. He glanced at Spock again and frowned at the green liquid that soaked his tunic sleeve. "You, on the other hand are going to need stitches," he pointed to Spock's arm.

Spock ignored his own injuries and studied the Captain carefully. There was caked on blood and a nasty looking bruise that covered most of his left temple along with many other scrapes and cuts that littered his frame from his encounter with a falling building earlier. More than that he could sense the many emotions that rolled off of the shaken captain, the ability to feel the raw human emotion was one that not even he could control.

Spock continued. "You have a head injury. It does not look severe, but it is not logical to overlook such a thing, head injuries can be quite dangerous if left unattended."

"So you're suddenly a doctor now?" Jim snorted and shook his head at his friend. "I can wait Spock."

"You believe you are to blame for what has transpired." A warning look was sent Spock's way, but the Vulcan was not bothered in the least by it. "How very illogical," Spock decided out loud.

"You don't understand," Jim growled, glancing around the bridge to make sure he hadn't disturbed any of the fleet trying to do their jobs. "We failed those people," he whispered, sure that Spock wouldn't commit mutiny against him and dub him 'emotionally compromised' like he'd done so eloquently to the Vulcan not too long ago.

Spock's face remained impassive as usual, but Jim could see something dark swirling in his eyes. "We took all necessary steps to save them Jim. The Delgada planet wished to keep their political troubles a secret until it was too late to bring peace and order back to their people. Why do you believe you are guilty for their own errors?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

"It is illogical that you feel guilty because you could not reach the child…"

"Sir," the heavily accented voice disrupted the intense conversation between the captain and his first officer.

Both men turned their head to regard Chekov. "Yes Chekov," Jim spat out in an irritated tone.

"Dr. McCoy requests your presence to the Sickbay sir's. He say's you've been avoiding the area for long enough and he'd like to get it over with so that he can 'drop dead'."

Spock turned back to the captain expectantly. "Captain."

Jim sighed and looked around the bridge again, noting that most of his officers were back in their correct spots in addiction to gauze, band aids, and stitches, that were splattered here and there on his crew. It appeared that McCoy had had a busy evening. "Go ahead Spock, I'll be there later."

"Captain, I must insist that you accompany me down to the Sickbay. You are injured." Spock stated once more.

Jim clenched his jaw and replied, "Go without me Commander, that's an order."

The Vulcan tilted his head, decidedly displeased with his Captain's antics but remained expressionless. "Yes Captain," and excused himself from the bridge.

Jim felt like shit, that much was simple. His head pounded, his body ached, and the numerous cuts that scattered his body stung, but it was still nothing compared to the images that assaulted him every time he closed his eyes.

The screaming was still so fresh, as were the images of ruins… what used to be the main city on Delgada, and the many bodies that were strewn about. Buildings were on fire and crumbling and there was so much crying and screaming and pain.

For the first time in his life, Jim honestly wished his emotions could be turned off as easily as Spock could. He'd all but lost his control when he witnessed the chaos and destruction that surrounded him and the group of his crew that had come to the surface of Delgada to assist after their distress call. His instructions had been hastily passed out and they all were off to tangle in the web of disorder to assist in any way they could.

Even after so many attempts, they'd only been able to save a handful of lives. The rest perished one way or another… either fighting against the mutiny that came over the Delgada's Consulate, or being trapped in the crossfire between the two.

Days like these had Jim hating being Captain of the Enterprise.

Suddenly Jim needed to get away from it all, it was suffocating him.

"Sulu," he called, hiding the breathlessness he was experiencing.

"Yes Captain?"

"Do you think you can handle her while I go get cleaned up?"

"Affirmative Captain."

Chekov swiveled in his seat to regard Jim. "Should I inform Dr. McCoy that you are on your way, Captain?"

Jim had to think quickly, there was no way in hell he was going down to the Sickbay to face both Spock and McCoy. "Nah, I think I'll surprise him," Jim lied with a wink. The lie was suitable and easy enough for him to get away with should anyone come looking for him.

Chekov nodded his head and turned back to whatever it was he had been doing, allowing Jim to turn on his heal and quickly exit the bridge. He kept his head down as he walked throughout the ship in search of his room; it took him nearly twenty minutes to do so.

Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought.

The door slid open and he urgently stepped inside, dropping to his knees the moment the door had safely slammed shut. He rested his forehead against the carpet and breathed harshly, his minds eye showing him an image of the little boy he had fought so hard to save, but in the end, was too slow.

"Help me!" the little voice screamed from inside the damaged building.

Nausea rolled through Jim like a freight train, and something between a sob and a pain moaned broke from his cracked lips.

"It is unwise Captain…"

Jim ran toward the voice, ignoring Spock's warning. "I'm coming kid, hold on."

The building the voice was coming from was making horrible noises as it shifted and threatened to tumble down on the child trapped inside. It cracked and groaned, seemingly swaying as the Captain ran towards it.

"Help!" the terrified voice screeched.

Jim had almost been there when with wide eyes he witnessed the huge stone building let out a horrendous crunch as it came down.


He was still moving, and it never even occurred to him that he was close enough to be in the falling building's path...


The next thing Jim remembered was lying flat on his back, Spock leaning over him with a raised eyebrow. He jerked into a sitting position and searched around the city at the ruins. "The child," he slurred. The blank look on Spock's face told him everything he needed to know.

"The building was unstable."

Jim carefully, and with the help of Spock was able to get to his feet.

"You are in need of medical assistance Captain."

"No, I'm fine. Just a little knock to the head, not like I haven't had one of those before," he replied, looking around, trying to quell the sickness that wanted to prevail at the thought of the little boy. "The others need help."

Spock had nodded, but Jim sensed the Vulcan's eyes watching him very carefully throughout the rest of the rescue.

He couldn't hold back the overwhelming need to vomit and somehow managed to climb to his feet and stumble into the bathing room, falling to his knees once more and losing what little food he had in his stomach.

Sharp inhales and exhales were all that could be heard in the small room as Jim fought so desperately to get himself under control. The pounding behind his eyes was slowly becoming unbearable, and he felt so dirty both inside and out.

It was the sudden and very strong urge to become clean that had Jim grasping his clothing, ripping it off as fast as his uncoordinated limbs would allow. Everything became a blur shortly after that, but Jim soon found himself unclothed and sitting in the small porcelain bathtub that was rapidly filling with water.

A deep, drawn out sigh left his lips. What's wrong with me, he wondered. He was captain of the Enterprise… so why couldn't he just let go and do his damned job? Why was it all affecting him so strongly?

"Dammit," he cursed.

The water comforted him, his hands threading through it like sand. Head leaning back against the side of the tub, Jim glared up at the dull ceiling. His thoughts remained jumbled except for scarce moments of lucidity that had him wondering what was going on.

The physical pain he was feeling was strong and undoubtedly aiding his mental pain as well. It was almost if they were both playing a symphony in sync and in his honor none the less. But it wasn't the pain that had gotten him in the end… it was the strange buzzing that Jim could barely detect in his ears.

Jim never really saw it coming, his mind fractured as his body stiffened and began trembling and quaking uncontrollably in the bathtub. His eyes rolled back into his head as his fit continued, and guttural noises erupted from his mouth. As the fit continued Jim's head and shoulders became fully submersed in the bathtub water.

Unconsciousness fled him swiftly and he was left dangling precariously between life and death.

TBC... send a comment my way and tell me what you thought. Ideas and helpful criticism are always welcome ^_^