I'll be missing you

"Mr. Chekov! A brief test of your knowledge of the ship's anatomy," Spock heaved out, swallowing her rapid sobbing breaths long enough to direct a statement to the young Russian navigator. "On what deck are the captain's quarters located?"

"Deck six, sir," he promptly replied, peering over the back of his chair at the two commanding officers hastily decamping from the bridge. 

"Very good, Mr. Chekov, and umm . . . Mr. Sulu, you have the conn." Spock tossed the last over her shoulder as she and the captain stepped into the lift, the door sliding to behind them with a squeaking swish. 

Captain Janelle Kirk clutched at her first officer's arm, pleading silently for some mark of sanity or logic. "What? What? No. Why?" she sputtered as denial warred with reluctant belief and abject terror. "This can't be happening; it just can't." 

"So . . . deck six?" Spock had settled her own reaction as incredulous acceptance, for the moment. Disentangling her arm from Kirk's, she grabbed a handle on the back wall and set the captain's hand on another. The lift began to move. "Janelle. Let's take a breath; don't overthink. Am I dreaming?"

"Are you dreaming? Am I dreaming?" 

". . . I am not doing the movie thing where they pinch each other." Spock delivered a ringing slap to her own cheek, gave her head a shake to clear it, looked around. Still in a lift. Still wearing a blue shirt. Still with Janelle in a gold shirt. "Okay, I think I'm fairly awake. You with me, Janelle?" 

"I . . . I think so." Most of the captain's panic had run its course. "Are we really . . . here?"

"I think so."

"This is amazing! This is wonderful, and scary, and absolutely wonderful! We actually get to meet all of our favorite people, and talk to them, and . . . and everything!" Enraptured with the very idea, Kirk grinned with uncontrollable glee, clapping her hands together with delight. Spock's manic expression matched hers for a glowing moment; then the opening, squeaking lift door startled it off Spock's face. 

They found the captain's quarters without much difficulty, nearly sprinting down gray corridors beneath sickly lights in their eagerness to find a door emblazoned with the correct name and title. Captain J. Kirk. Kirk leaned a weary, shuddering shoulder against the cool grey metal. Spock put one hand on the doorway, head bent and mouth panting, the other hand on her hip. 
"How are we . . . supposed . . . to get in?" she gasped. Their dash across the breadth of the ship had winded her more than she realized. 
"I don't --aaAACK!" came the odd reply from Janelle. Bemused, Spock lifted her gaze to where Kirk had been seconds ago and saw a blank space instead of a steely door or her wilting friend. Ah.
Kirk was on the floor; the door had opened. When Janelle spoke. Interesting.

It was an empty room, containing few signs of habitation. A neatly made bed, clad in blue and gold, a desk was devoid of personal effects. No pictures, no plants, no artifacts decorated the walls or sat on shelves. 

They elected to wait inside for the captain to return as Spock grew ever more restless. A bit of prying would surely go unnoticed if executed with care, she rationalized. Her brief perusal of his books yielded little to entertain. Only a computer sat on the desk. Possibly useful later. One door remained, not a very promising one, but when the closet was pulled open, it revealed . . . women's clothing?

Spock lingered, confused, in front of the closet, reluctant to give credence to mental images of cross-dressing captains, until something clicked in her mind. The crew, the door, the clothes: clues to an unwanted truth. Drops of despair burned and blurred her vision as she turned to her friend who sat on the edge of the bed.

"Umm . . . Janelle . . . I think you're the Captain."

"What? No. No. I'm not the captain; James T. Kirk is the captain, and we're waiting here to meet him!" 

"Umm . . . I don't think so. And I think," and here Spock paused to breathe, sucking back one last bit of sadness, "I'm supposed to be Spock." 

Their howls of anguish would have been heard on the nearest Starbase, had not the captain's walls been soundproofed.