Dammit Jim.

Alien captors, merciless bonds, imminent execution, and no hope of rescue. All that was missing was Jim Kirk.

Was imminent execution mentioned already?

The medical officer shifted against the metal ties, his already downward-prone mouth turning further at the discomfort it caused his beaten arms.

No, 'dammit Jim' wasn't quite harsh enough.

To be fair, this wasn't the young captain's fault at all. Had Kirk been present the doctor would have already been rescued by a poorly-equipped security team headed by his brash friend.

Alright then, dammit Spock.

Oh yes, that was much better.

The problem was Jim wasn't up there in the Enterprise; he was light-years away on Delta Vega with tubes and wires and bags of fluid all sticking out of him. Courtesy of a nasty crash-landing.

He'd make it alright; the survival of Jim Kirk was never in question. The continuing existence of Leonard McCoy on the other hand was a miracle that had just been downgraded to a freak accident.

Loud squawking.

"Isn't it enough that you're going to burn me alive? Do you have to blow my eardrums out, too?!"

Witty remarks and false bravo had little effect on the hostiles; maybe it was better to just accept death graciously – or maybe with tears. Either would be somewhat of an interesting change.

Oh yes, damn Spock.

It was the pointy-eared bastards fault that the Enterprise was about to lose its chief doctor – after all, just because Scotty couldn't beam someone up didn't mean that Spock couldn't have someone beamed down…say a group of heavily armed security officers.

No, that's right, no-one could beam down because of the cloud of sulfur blocking the visibility – there was a seventy-percent chance that the landing party would be incinerated in a pool of lava upon materialization. That wasn't quite fair to the red-shirts, now was it?

On the other hand, if it'd been Jim sentenced to death, things would be different.

Much different.

McCoy had seen Spock disregard the whole of the Enterprise to save his Captain – if that wasn't illogical, what was?

But Bones wasn't Jim Kirk. And Spock wasn't sending a rescue party.

…which called for another good round of: "Dammit, Jim!"

The loops of rusted metal dug into flesh as the primate life forms began hauling their victim towards the bonfire. Screaming would have been particularly appropriate at this time, however, McCoy's pride wouldn't allow it. Besides, I'm going to need a tetanus shot, was all he could allow himself to think now.

"Spock, you're the devil incarnate!"

No, no he wasn't.

The heat from the uncomfortably-close fire singed.

Spock was his friend – annoying, unreasonable, and unemotional, albeit, but a friend. McCoy couldn't really bring himself to believe that the Vulcan was monitoring the proceedings with cold apathy…Spock would be deeply upset by his death – maybe scarred for life – Jim would be devastated.

Still, the Vulcan could not break the rules for Dr. McCoy.

For Jim, maybe.

Not for the doctor.

Not for Bones.

Another shrieking stream of dialogue and two of the ape-men moved closer.

Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit…

A nudge. Fire seared cloth.

What does one think about when they're about to die? Family? Friends? How much it's going to hurt?

Shove.

For a fraction of a second the Doctor couldn't feel the yellow flames engulfing his chest – (he credited the marvel to shock) – then, every nerve-ending in his body responded with alacrity.

Never mind that whole I-am-not-going-to-scream-or-cry thing.

Dammit Jim, indeed.

Everything but pain was lost to the medical officer – the swirl of gold, the screams, the crack of bone and the shout of alarm. All was pain and fire.

"Leonard!"

The fact that the voice sounded very much like Spock was discredited by McCoy, as was the realization that the blue sleeves that melted to white skin looked very much like those of the First Officer as well.

The fire was gone – the burning was not.

"Two to transport; have medical team's one and three standing by. Prep burn unit."

The sharp face finally convinced him.

Light danced as particles were disconnected and rejoined.

Spock?

No, it couldn't be Spock. Spock was on the bridge, watching in sorrow as his friend burned to death.

Then he was dead. And since the Vulcan was the devil, that would make sense. Especially with the flames – nice touch.

"Leonard, please make an attempt to breathe normally."

But damn if it didn't look and sound like the hobgoblin…

"Spock…?"

"I will refrain from comment as to the illogicality of your question, Doctor. Please cooperate with your medical staff."

The stretcher grated against his charred skin.

"Dammit Spock!" McCoy gritted, his head jarring, "you can't just risk your life like that! What did you think you were doing?!"

The doctor finally looked up at his rescuer. Even through blurred and bouncing vision the black marks of soot and smoke were visible on the Vulcan's face.

"Dr. McCoy, I believe my thoughts were of saving my friend's life."

Oh.

Thanks were probably in order. Maybe an apology or two.

"Well, don't do that again."

Not a very intelligent substitute.

"I would caution you likewise, Doctor," Spock said, "the Enterprise would suffer greatly without her chief medical officer – as would I."

Replies were useless – McCoy only botched every attempt at gratitude.

Ha. That Jim Kirk thought he was so special…

Needs of the many…bullshit.

Damn Vulcan.