Jim lay on his side and tried to stop shivering. He wasn't cold, but every muscle in his body seemed to want to tremble at the same time. He felt like an addict, but, to his knowledge, his only addiction was the Enterprise.

The week had started so well. First contact with the Sonarians; a technologically advanced, friendly, intelligent race who seemed delighted to find the Enterprise on their doorstep, had gone without a hitch. The only slightly odd part had been that the Sonarians, as a race, seemed to be obsessed with music. Jim had learned about a whole other side of several members of his crew, including Spock.

What no one in the Sonarian governing body had mentioned was the small, but militant, xenophobic element of their society who wanted nothing to do with anyone from outside their solar system. One minute Kirk had been talking about possible shore leave for his crew and the next he'd been hit by a blast of something that had made everything very shiny and happy for a while.

He'd come down from the harmless, but irritating high in a cell that looked more like a sickbay and he'd been there since. His captors had given him a whole speech about how aliens were incredibly dangerous to their society before they'd started in on him. The first thing that had gone was his uniform. Soon after that the xenophobes had started to subject him to procedures of some description, the nature of which he could only guess at. Whatever they had been doing had made him woozy and unfocused, so he hadn't had much chance to do anything except lie where he was put.

The last had been the worst. Ever since they had left him, his skin felt as if it was prickling all over, he couldn't stop shaking and, if he had had anything in his stomach, he was sure it wouldn't have been there for long. It was like the worst hangover imaginable combined with motion sickness even though he was lying perfectly still.

When the door burst inwards the noise made him moan and curl up even more. It never occurred to him to look to see who it was.

"Captain."

He knew that voice, but it took his brain a moment to catch up with the fact.

"Spock?" he said, not quite believing what he was hearing.

While he had been a captive, he had lost track of time and reality and his mind didn't seem overly happy at catching back up.

"Are you injured?"

It was definitely Spock, because that was a dumb assed question if ever he had heard one.

"Worst hangover in the universe," he managed to say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Then he tried to move and discovered it could actually get worse. His sense of balance was totally off. He attempted to sit up and almost pitched off the side of the bed. Strong hands caught him before he could tumble to the floor, but the world was going round so badly that he almost didn't notice.

"I believe it would be best if you did not move, Captain," Spock said, as stoic as ever.

He didn't even bother to reply, he just hung on. Spock was about the only thing in the universe that didn't seem to be moving.

"Don't ..." he heard a new voice say and then stop mid-sentence. "Dammit."

Jim did his best to make his eyes focus on whoever was speaking. About all he managed to see was a fuzzy shape, which his brain translated into a tall man with black hair.

"What were you about to say, Protector Lambert?" Spock asked.

"It's too late now."

"Too late for what?" Jim might not have been able to see, but he was not in the mood to be talked over.

"I was going to say, 'don't touch him'," the protector said quickly, "but we'll have to worry about that later. We need to get everyone out of the shielded zone; not all the dissidents have been found yet. Since we do not know what Captain Kirk had been subjected to, I would suggest limiting physical contact to you alone, Mr Spock."

Jim would have objected, but his first officer seemed to think it was a good idea. With apparently no effort, Spock picked him up and his stomach lurched so much he had no choice but to throw his arms around Spock's neck and hang on. It should have been mortifyingly embarrassing, but being too busy trying not to throw up kept his mind and body more than occupied.

It was chaos. Jim could not keep what was happening around him straight. He rested his head on his arm and simply trusted in his first officer and whoever Spock was with to get him out of the situation. It was an alien thing to do, but even he knew how to pick his battles.

"Emergency beam out," he heard Spock say as what sounded like phaser fire passed close by them.

They had to have cleared the shielded zone, however big it was, because Jim almost instantly felt the familiar sensation of the transporter.

"Maintain contact with Protector Lambert," Spock said efficiently and Jim just about recognised the controlled environment of the Enterprise, "I will take the captain to sickbay."

At any other time, Jim would have added his own input to the situation, but he felt so damn tired. His skin had stopped itching at least, but Spock was still the only thing he seemed able to concentrate on. It was hard not to just relax and let everything else go away.

Spock spoke to several people on the way to sickbay, but Jim didn't have the strength to concentrate on what was said. It was only when he was placed on a biobed and Spock finally stepped away that reality slammed into him. He did not like it at all as his whole body suddenly informed him that he needed to be awake and he could not stop himself reaching out for the lost contact.

"Spock, stay right there," he heard Bone's familiar voice say, "I need to check for contagions. Jim, just try and relax, I need to examine you."

Jim found himself being pushed gently back onto the bio bed, and his brain caught up with his instincts. He wanted to reach out to Spock, but he grabbed a hold of himself and pushed that need down; it was ridiculous. His imprisonment had affected his mind and that was unacceptable.

"Jim, simple question first, how many fingers?"

It was typical of Bones to start with something ridiculously unsophisticated. What was a little worrying was the number of blinks it took Jim to focus and find the answer.

"Three."

Bones grunted, satisfied with that before scanning him. It was ludicrous, but Jim couldn't stop himself looking over to Spock for reassurance as the doctor's machines beeped and whined.

"Jim, it's not good to let someone mess with your DNA," Bones said after a few seconds, "but don't worry, I'll have you sorted out in no time."

He was going to say something to that, but a hypospray was pushed to his neck, and after the first hiss, his whole body began to relax. Muscles that had been cramped for what seemed like forever slowly began to unknot. For a few seconds, all he could do was sigh in relief.

"What did they do to me?" he managed to ask eventually as Bones dosed him up a second time.

"Well you're prettier than you were," Bones said in his usual gruff tone. "Those sparkly freckles the Sonarians have bring out your cheek bones."

"They were trying to make me one of them?"

It sounded ridiculously farfetched and more than a little insane, but that kind of thing came with the captaincy of the Enterprise, or so Jim was discovering.

"Probably objected to your stubborn streak," Bones said, hypoing him yet again. "Do not move while I check the computer."

Jim was pretty sure running away this time was beyond even him, so for once he did as he was told while Bones walked away.

"You appear somewhat more lucid, Captain," Spock said, standing precisely where he had been told to stay.

"I feel it," he admitted and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

"It was Protector Lambert's team who deserve the credit," Spock told him. "Their security system is most efficient."

Coming from a Vulcan that was high praise indeed and Jim made a mental note to thank Lambert once he was back on his feet. Protectors were the Sonarian's equivalent of police, army and security force all rolled into one and Jim had met Lambert during the initial negotiations. He had liked the man and was now very glad Lambert appeared to be good at his job as well.

"How long was I gone?" he asked.

"Three days, four hours and twenty seven minutes, ship time," Spock informed him.

"Why the hell didn't they just kill me?"

It would have made much more sense to destroy the invaders rather than try and convert them as far as Jim was concerned.

"The Sonarian people object to killing of any kind," Spock explained, stepping closer; "it is a fundamental principle of their society. It would appear that they will only use deadly force as a final resort when all other avenues have been explored."

Jim let his sluggish brain process that. Trust him to walk into the middle of a civil dispute bent on using the least violent options possible. It did, however, beat being dead.

"Anyone else hurt?" he asked, going over possibilities in his mind.

"You were the dissidents' primary target," Spock told him, "and the only crew member abducted. Ensign Checkov sprained an ankle, but he was the only other casualty."

Jim laughed at that, because he needed to release the tension somehow, and Spock's deadpan delivery was faintly ridiculous. He was incredibly relieved that the rest of his crew were safe.

"I'm sure that gained him points with Ensign Philips," he said and closed his eyes for a moment.

"I believe Checkov's relationship with Philips ended mutually two weeks ago."

Jim did not bother asking why Spock felt the need to keep up with human mating rituals on the ship, he just accepted it. At least it gave him something else to think about. For some reason he could not fathom he found himself feeling less jumpy when he opened his eyes again and looked at his first officer.

Spock was a man of few words, but Jim found the Vulcan's presence comforting while Bones busied around both of them, scanning and muttering and being, basically, doctorly.

"Okay, Spock," Bones said after about half an hour, coming back from some mysterious thing he had been doing, "you can go. Whatever the Sonarians did to Jim, it's not contagious."

"Yay for the silver lining," Jim said and did his best to smile.

The looks both Bones and Spock gave him did not share his forced levity.

"With your permission, Captain, I will return to the bridge and liaise with the Sonarian security personnel, they may have more information by now."

Jim nodded at his first officer, after all it was standard procedure. It wasn't as if he was going anywhere any time soon and who knew how long it would take Bones to put him right. If any information the Sonarians had could help, so much the better.

"Keep me informed," he said and did his best to relax.

"You'll keep me informed," Bones said and glared at Spock, "I'll be the judge of what our illustrious captain needs to know."

Jim did his best to level an 'I am the captain, my word goes' look at both men, but he was pretty sure he failed.

"Of course," was all Spock said and it could have been to either of them; damn tricky Vulcan.

The next thing Jim knew he was blinking dazedly at the ceiling, as he tried to remember what had happened. Spock had gone to leave the room to return to the bridge and ... he didn't know what had occurred next.