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Ch 3

The immediate silence that followed had an agonizing affect on the Captain's mental state.

Plagued by guilt and a rather large dose of horniness, Kirk's mind was currently attempting to either drive him into full panic mode or to give up and just go completely insane. But he had faced life and death situations where the livelihood of entire planets and populations had been at stake.

He could handle this.

"...May I inquire as to what you are doing?" Spock Prime questioned, eye brow cocked.

"Attempting to hide." Jim said, as though it had been the most obvious thing in the world.

"You... realize the space beneath the couch is equivalent to precisely 1.45 standard Earth inches?" The older Vulcan inquired, finding the frantic Captain an amusing sight.

Hopping up, Kirk straightened his shirt, wondering why he was still wearing the Starfleet regulation uniform as he hastily replied, "I knew that."

Another knock sounded at the door.

"Hide me!" Jim Kirk's panicked voice was reduced to a high-pitched squeak.

"Jim," Spock Prime admonished, walking towards the door, "I do not understand the chaotic state you have put yourself in."

Jim grabbed the Vulcan's wrist as he walked past, "I am in a 'chaotic state' because that Spock out there wants me dead."

It sounded as lame out loud as it had in his head. But Jim honestly didn't know what else to say. What? That Spock was out there because he noticed the Captain was acting weird? That out of his entire crew, that Vulcan was the only one to realize something was amiss? And that now he had come all this way to... kill him?

Spock Prime frowned, "I hardly believe that he's-"

"All right all right, maybe not." Jim relented aloud in hushed tones, "But you can't open that door!"

Spock Prime quirked an eyebrow, but instead of arguing, he merely kept walking. Refusing to let go of the other's wrist, Jim was unerringly dragged along. He dug his heels into the floor, but was no match for Vulcan strength, even for one at Spock Prime's age. It would have hurt Jim's pride...

...if he didn't have bigger problems to worry about.

"He's gonna drag me kicking and screaming back to the USS Enterprise! I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my ship. But that... man... out there intends to *torture* me!" Jim continued to rant in a shouting whisper.

Spock Prime leveled the Captain with a disbelieving stare. After a few more moments, the Vulcan let out a brief exhale and relented, "All right, Jim. The cabinet against the wall would make a very effective hiding place. I suggest you hurry. My younger self is not the most patient person..."

"Thanks," Kirk sprinted over to the cabinet, vaulting over the couch in the process. Just as he backed into it, clicking the cabinet doors closed in front of him, he heard the front door open.

Immediately, he froze in place.

He heard muffled sounds of greeting and then a faint pause.

Wondering what was going on, the Captain pushed the hanging robes out of the way so he could see out of the tiny sliver of a crack between the doors. He only had an angle on the back of the couch and a little view out the sliding glass doors.

Spock walked into view, stopping right before the cabinet. Jim suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Had Spock Prime ratted him out? It only took a few rapid heartbeats, however, for Jim to realize that unless his young Vulcan friend had eyes in the back of his head, he couldn't possibly be staring at his hiding place. As usual, his First Commander's hands were clasped behind his back.