Prompt: “Could you write a fic where the reader and Spock are on a mission and they run into trouble and he does everything he can to protect her since he is madly in love with her?” - Anon
Word Count: 2,023
Author’s Note: Long time, not post, eh? It’s been longer than I’d like, but here’s a piece to make up for lost time. I hope you like it, Anon. Thanks for the wait.
The snap nearly stopped your heart. Gut-wrenching pain coursed up through your body as you fell to the ground, bruising your side on impact.
The ringing in your ears drowned out the cry that erupted from your chest.
A pair of hands closed around your arms and started dragging you, adding the burn of the pull to the mounting pain.
The dragging stopped and a hand touched your face. The breath was sucked from your lungs as your consciousness melded with Spock’s.
Lay still. I will protect you.
His hand left your skin and you opened your eyes to see where he brought you.
You lay between two close pieces of machinery. Spock crouched at the entrance to your hiding place and fired back at the enemies down the hall. Your leg peaked twice, once at the knee and once at the fracture point. Your pants were dusty and grey, not a drop of blood in sight. That would make this easier to deal with.
Spock fired again before looking over his shoulder at you.
The muscles in your leg twinged and you cried out as it blossomed a fresh wave of pain.
“Y/N,” Spock raised his voice before turning back to fire another handful of rounds.
You moaned back at him, tipping your head back against the wall and screwing your eyes shut.
“I’m awake,” you groaned.
“You must make contact with the ship. Initiate a transport with Mr. Scott,” Spock said, glancing back at you between shots. “Are you able to do that?”
“Maybe,” you pawed at your pocket, sliding your communicator out and triggering a fresh wave of pain from the injury.
You flipped the communicator open and held it to your face, panting with the effort it took not to cry out in agony.
“Y/L/N to Enterprise,” you hissed into the device.
“We’re reading you, Lieutenant, what’s going on?” Kirk’s voice came through.
“I’ve sustained a critical injury,” you took a deep breath as the pain washed over you again. “Mr. Spock is keeping their security team at bay, but I don’t think we can hold them off much longer.”
At that moment Spock cried out and fell back, clutching his shoulder.
“Spock!” you cried out as the shock caused you to clench your muscles around the fracture.
Three huge, heavily armoured humanoids stepped up to the entrance of the inlet. Spock raised his weapon and the closest guard kicked it right out of his hand, bringing his boot down hard on the side of Spock’s head with a second swing.
Your entire body clenched and the blood-curdling scream that ripped from your throat mixed anger, fear, and pain.
The humanoid guard bent and dragged Spock from the space by his ankle. Another, the smallest of the three, slipped between the machines and reached down for you. The last thing you saw before you lost consciousness was the enormous, gloved hand reaching for your chest.
When you next awoke, you hung from the ceiling by your wrists. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but the pain in your leg made the situation additionally uncomfortable. The sheer weight of your leg weighing the fracture apart tugged at your muscles in the worst way.
You cracked your eyelids and looked around a startlingly well-lit room. Spock hung next to you, the hem of his shirt riding up with the strain of his arms over his head.
“Spock,” you whispered.
“I am awake,” he muttered.
“Are you hurt?”
“Not as seriously as you,” he muttered. There was a clatter in the hallway outside of the room. “Did you make contact with the Enterprise?”
“Yeah, but clearly they didn’t get us.”
“Stay quiet,” he said as he watched the door, hearing the locks being turned. “I will stall for time. Perhaps the Captain will be able to send a rescue team if we can afford them enough time.”
“What about you, I don’t want you making yourself a target!” you hissed.
“Stay silent, Y/N, please.”
The door opened and two of the guards stepped in. They spoke in rumbling voices, their language fraught with glottal stops. You must have been stripped of your universal translators sometime after you lost consciousness.
“If we are to converse, we require a medium of assistance,” Spock said. One of the guards took a heavy step forward.
Each guard wore a heavy brass coloured face mask attached to their helmet. The mask had great twisting tusks and squared-off teeth.
The one that stepped forward held out one of your communicators. It was open, but inactive.
“The button,” Spock said, tipping his head gently toward the device.
The guard looked down at the device and pressed the button.
“Can you understand me?” Spock asked.
“Yes,” the guard rumbled. “You have illegally boarded our ship.”
“You are in possession of stolen property,” Spock said.
The ache in your leg twinged with each muscle spasm. You hung your head and closed your eyes, no matter how badly you wanted to keep an eye on the situation. Spock asked you to stay quiet, so you needed to stay quiet.
“We are in possession of no stolen property,” the guard growled. “You are here illegally.”
“You are in possession of a supply of radiation medication belonging to the Ossilian outpost on Lazarus IV,” Spock said. “We were charged with retrieving it.”
“And now you die for your mission,” the guard grumbled, taking another step forward.
“Killing us would be unwise,” Spock replied.
“And why is that?”
There was a clamour of armour and the other guard stepped up to you, his cold gauntlet closing around your chin and wrenching your head up.
“The Ossilians are willing to meet your price!” Spock said with a note of distinct urgency.
“This one is injured,” the guard before you said. You looked into the eye holes in its mask and saw sheer obsidian reflecting your own sweat-sodden face back at you. How big are their eyes, you wondered.
“The Ossilians are willing to meet your price,” Spock said again. “I will act as an agent to get you what you want.”
“How do you know we don’t have what we want?” the guard closest to him said. “If we wanted their money, we would have overturned their bank. If we wanted their ships, we would have raided their shipyards.”
“You need the medicine,” you said.
Spock turned sharply toward you, his body swinging slightly on his chains.
“You’re sick,” you said.
“Do you consider yourself a scientist then?” The guard before Spock walked up to you. “I see your stripes. You are a security officer. All brawn and no brains.”
He reached out and grabbed your leg right where the bone cracked.
You let out a cry that deafened the inside of your head. There was only white-hot pain and reverberating sound.
After many minutes another sound wound its way into your head. It was a deep, single note. Spock cried out over the sound of your waning scream. There were sharp sounds as he thrashed against his bonds.
There was a sudden crash and the hand left your leg. Your vision whirled in a dizzying array of colours and shapes as a scuffle ensued before you. One constant shape remained still on your right: Spock dangling from the ceiling.
You focused on that shape until suddenly it, too, was gone. You processed the change in your vision as a pair of strong arms wound around you from the front. There was a phaser blast and your arms fell to your sides.
“Go!” you heard someone shout.
The arms readjusted you so that your torso fell over their shoulder and they began to run. You moaned as soon as you got into the hallway.
“I am here,” Spock grunted. He braced his arm around your hips, above the break, but with each heavy footfall your fracture pulsed.
He suddenly stopped and his grip loosened.
“Can you stand on your other leg?”
“I think so?”
He gingerly lowered you until your good foot touched the ground and his arms were around your waist. He had a communicator behind your back which he dialled furiously as he stood with you in the hall.
“Please get me to sickbay, I can’t do this anymore,” you said as your stomach gave a massive heave. You held your breath.
“I am endeavouring to,” he muttered as he pressed just the right button.
“Spock to Mr. Scott.”
“Mr. Spock! Stand by, I’m locking onto your signal.”
“Two to beam directly to sickbay, please,” he said, gripping you tighter as your stomach lurched and you convulsed with it.
“Aye,” came the response as you felt a weightlessness in your stomach.
“Spock,” you said.
“You are safe, Ashayam,” Spock placed his hand holding the communicator on the back of your head as you dissolved into so many atoms.
Somewhere in the flurry of activity you ended up on a bio bed in sickbay, McCoy fussing around your leg with a handful of nurses and Spock standing by your head, watching the medical team perform their procedures to correct the damage.
“Spock?” you whispered.
“Are you awake in earnest this time?”
“You have suffered severe tissue damage around the fracture site, but Doctor McCoy is confident that he will be able to repair it,” Spock said, looking down at you.
“What?” you asked, seeing the stony look taking over his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I should have been able to help you. I should not have allowed us get captured.”
“You got shot, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, he did. Want to tell him to accept some damn help with that?” McCoy grumbled, his face a few inches from your leg as he affixed some sort of regeneration device around it.
“Spock, have you not been seen to yet?”
“No,” Spock admitted. “You are my priority at present.”
“You’re going to get yourself into serious trouble one day if you keep putting me first,” you shook your head. “Spock, don’t second guess yourself, alright?”
“I find it difficult not to, in hindsight.”
“Of course in hindsight,” you blinked up at him. “You did everything you could have in the situation you found yourself in. I’m actually in one piece, more or less, thanks to you.”
“I shouldn’t have let you get captured.”
“If I hadn’t been captured, you’d probably be dead. That guard was going right for you before I interjected.”
“And then you were attacked.”
“But neither of us died.”
“Alright, alright, you were both very heroic and many lives were saved,” McCoy grumbled, standing back up to full height. “Pointy, get your ass to the next bed and let M’Benga patch you up. Jim needs you on the bridge, I’m sure Y/N can handle things here while you get back to your job.”
Spock straightened up.
“Go,” you urged.
He exchanged a soft look with you before obeying your request and stepping to the next bed.
“Honestly, you’d think you were on the warpath to see which one of you was the most goddamn noble,” McCoy quipped. “You’re going to spend a few hours under this thing and then we’re going to take another look. You’re benched for at least three weeks while this heals up. You can do paperwork and order people around, but you’re not getting in on any of the action.”
“I think I can be alright with three weeks of low action,” you nodded, looking past the Doctor at Spock. “How hurt is he?”
“Just the burn from the shot,” McCoy said. “His head’s fine. I’m glad neither of you died, but can you try to keep yourselves in one piece next time?”
“I’ll do what I can,” you grinned.
McCoy stepped away from your bed and Spock turned from watching what the nurse was doing to his shoulder to look at you.
“He says I’ll live,” you said.
“I am relieved,” he said, his eyes softening. “Sleep, T’hy’la.”
You let your eyes close and the thrum of noise in medbay washed over you, lulling you to sleep.