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Chapter Text

The basic formula: decide and act.

A Vulcan such as Spock does not live his life, per se, by formulas—as logic cannot be formulated, only postulated by the philosophical mind and used with discretion—but he is not above approaching a difficult choice through simple steps.

The unpredictable factor, however, is the reaction to his action.

"Are you crazy!"

Doctor McCoy is so flustered that he forgets to toss one of his usual insults into his cry of disbelief.

"I am of sound mind, Leonard."

Spock watches as the doctor takes a step back even as Spock's mouth shapes that familiarity (which the Vulcan uses only rarely). Perhaps, in addition to startling McCoy, it tells the man that Spock's proposition is not made in jest.

Where as Jim had met his stare unflinchingly, with gravity, Leonard instead chooses to look anywhere but at Spock.

The human's voice is nervous, as he talks. "I musta heard you wrong, Spock. I—"

McCoy's eyes flick upwards to his gaze briefly, a shock of blue. Then those eyes are downcast again, that head bent as if praying. Spock knew that this particular human would present a greater challenge; thus, why he opted to confront Jim first.

"I don't know what to say," answers the doctor after a pregnant pause.

"Words are not necessary at this time. I understand that you shall wish to consider your response."

Leonard crosses his arms and that, more than any other reaction, hints that Spock's offer has disturbed the doctor. Once the human nods shortly, walks out of the room, Spock un-clenches the hands behind his back. His palms are indented with the marks of blunt nails pressed too forcefully into flesh.

He had expected a certain degree of unease, yet the Vulcan must still strengthen his resolve—and his emotional control—in case either Jim or Leonard (or both) reject his formal request for, as his mother would say, "a relationship of the heart."

Some time later, while attempting to meditate in his quarters off-duty, Spock of Vulcan will recall words that, long ago, could have gently nudged him towards today's circumstances.

~~~

before...

 

"There you are, Spock."

He turns his head to see Amanda Grayson, his human mother. Her eyes light on him from across the room and Spock does not deny the relieved pleasure he feels at her presence. Spock subtly shifts his arm, and she obliges him by slipping her arm through his, then pats his shoulder affectionately. They remain there, side by side, on the Observation Deck in a shroud of starlight.

"Doctor McCoy assures me that your father is healing well."

"His words are rarely false," Spock replies.

His mother makes a small hum in her throat. "His words are also colorful when he's riled," she says with a low laugh. "I would have stayed to watch him fuss at your captain, but I thought Jim's dignity might appreciate my absence."

"Yes. The doctor is... apt to strong emotional displays when stressed about the health of his patients."

"Do you like him, Spock?"

Spock looks down at his mother, who apparently has been sneaking long glances at her son for some minutes. He is uncertain of what response she seeks.

"I respect Doctor McCoy's performance as a healer."

"I asked you if you like him, Spock, not how you feel about the man as a colleague." She leans into him for a split-second, as if to emphasize her point. "Humor your poor mother, dear."

"Our relations are... manageable."

Her mouth stretches in a smile. "You mean that he challenges your logic, you point out his flaws, and neither of you concedes ground."

His mother's assessment is not incorrect so Spock cannot argue.

"Do you know what I think?"

"I would not presume to know your thoughts, Mother," he answers in such a way that she tells him he sounds like Sarek.

But Amanda Grayson will not be deterred from this conversation about Spock and McCoy. "You do like the doctor; otherwise you would not bother to respond to him with anything other than strict professionalism."

He blinks. "Professionalism is a requirement of conduct." He means Of course I am professional but his mother—with her human perception—might misconstrue those words as a childish denial.

"Yes, love," she says as her hand squeezes his forearm, "but there are ways to remain professional and stay engaged on a friendly level."

Friendly. She suggests that he is friends with Leonard McCoy. Spock considers this possibility and concludes that it must indeed be true. The Vulcan would not admit to surprise.

She removes her arm from his, a clear signal that this talk between them is complete. Except, after his mother states that she will return to the medical bay to watch over Sarek, she pauses at the exit to the Observation Deck and turns back to say softly, "I know that you considered your years of service under Pike to be satisfactory, but this Enterprise—Captain Kirk's Enterprise—is doing you so much more good." Her words ring with sincerity. "I'm happy for you, Spock."

He does not respond—and not entirely because his mother has disappeared into the corridor beyond hearing range.

~~~

Bones looks like someone steam-rolled him from behind and then backed up and did it again. Several times.

Jim is sympathetic because he doesn't feel much better. While he knows why he is exhausted, he only has an inkling about Bones.

Then Leonard McCoy drops into a seat opposite the captain at the table in the sparsely populated mess hall and announces, "I'm in trouble, Jimmy."

So he does know what is bothering Bones.

Jim winces, says, "Do you want to talk about it?" and then mentally slaps himself.

Bones' glare is nothing short of I'd skewer you where you sat if I had a fork in my hand.

"Sorry." Then, seeing the instant droop of McCoy's shoulders, he adds, "You're worked up. Over Spock."

The doctor looks at him in surprise. "He told you." A spark of life returns to the man, who narrows his eyes in a too familiar way. "Why that... I shoulda known! What is this? A joke? Because it sure as hell ain't funny to me, Jim!"

"No!" Jim reaches over and places a firm hand on the man's wrist, to quiet McCoy's budding anger. "Spock didn't tell me—well he told me, but he told me in the same way that he told you." At Bones' confusion, he clarifies, "Spock said to me what he said to you, except concerning he and I rather than you and him."

Jim has officially confused himself so it is probably a good thing that McCoy draws back in sudden understanding.

"You're sayin," his friend says slowly, accent thick, "that Spock has decided he—" The man swallows hard, as if the words refuse to be voiced. With a sigh (that sounds more like a whimper, Jim wisely doesn't point out), Leonard gives up. The doctor asks, voice small, "He meant it, didn't he?"

Jim nods. "Yes, he did."

~~~

before...

 

"Captain, may we speak in private?"

Jim agrees to Spock's request because it is not often that the Vulcan comes directly to him without McCoy's prodding or Jim dropping large hints that they need to talk about whatever issue is clearly ailing his First Officer. Even stranger, however, is the fact that Jim is not aware of any situation which would require Spock to seek him out for a private discussion.

Naturally that increases Kirk's worry tenfold.

He is pacing, unable to remain still or focused on paperwork, by the time the chronometer marks the hour of Spock's arrival. Spock appears on cue, in no apparent rush. Nor can Jim pick out visible signs of distress or agitation in the Vulcan's body language.

His shoulders relax somewhat when Spock greets him as "Jim." In return he offers his friend a seat at a small table used for solitary meals or report-reading, already wondering if a game of chess would help ease the conversation so that Spock can say what he needs to say.

Unfortunately, Jim often forgets that once Spock has made up his mind to do something, distractions are unnecessary—and frowned upon—until the goal in question is obtained.

"I will stand if you do not object," Spock says in lieu of sitting in a vacant chair.

That stills Kirk. He stares intently at Spock for some seconds before saying, unknowingly in his captain's voice, "What is it? What's happened?" What's going to happen that demands the captain's attention before the rest of the ship?

Suddenly he wishes for Bones, who would have forced Spock to sit and said, "Now there ain't no point in elevatin' Jim's blood pressure, Spock! And, Jim? A Vulcan would look dire even if he were discussing the color of posies for his sweetheart's hair. Let's see what Spock has to say first before we arm the photon torpedoes."

Let's see. McCoy says it in his head and so Jim obeys.

He breathes deeply. "Forgive me. I— Never mind." He purposefully strides over to his console and ensures that his quarters are sheltered from the computer's monitoring and recording systems. "I assume you wish this discussion to remain off the record, Mr. Spock."

"That would be wise," answers the Vulcan.

Jim looks up at that, thinks he catches a fleeting touch of amusement in Spock's otherwise monotone voice. The man straightens. "Proceed," he says after attempting to relieve the strange tightness of his throat.

"I like you, Jim."

James Kirk has slammed into unforgiving force-fields, been punched by oversized giants, and was once head-butted by a Klingon wearing a helmet made of titanium. None of those experiences prepares him for the impact of his First Officer's blunt confession. His mind staggers.

"Spock?"

Then the obvious explanation strikes him. For some reason, Spock wants confirmation that Jim knows they are friends. The man, whose heart had inexplicably begun to pound, reins in his natural reaction, relaxes.

And smiles. "As I like you, Spock." Prepared to drop the subject (for surely this must be an uncomfortable topic for a Vulcan to discuss in depth—and Jim isn't exactly known for harping on the subject of love either, despite his open displays of affection to those for whom he cares), Jim says, "I know we are friends, Spock—and I am glad that we are. Why don't you stay, if that's the end of it? I seem to remember I promised you a rematch..." He reaches for the chess set.

"Jim."

It is the way that Spock says his name alone—heavy with an undercurrent of there's more—that causes Jim to drop his hands and half-turn towards Spock again.

"I am your friend," the Vulcan states gravely. "I also wish to express a sentiment deeper than the friendship which exists between us." There is a pause, uncharacteristic enough from Spock to alert Jim. "...Should you be amenable to listen further."

Jim understands now why Spock wishes to stand; because were Jim himself in Spock's position at this moment, he would remain on his feet too—if only to be that much closer to the door in case the reception of his words was painful. And since Jim understands, knows that his response matters (has the potential to damage the good feelings between them if he should choose such a path), he gives Spock the courtesy of not running away or dismissing the Vulcan's desire to speak of something so intimate.

Spock is motionless now, like he dares not draw a breath until Jim tells him to.

How much courage does it take, Jim wonders, for a person taught to restrain the expression of emotion to verbalize the truth of his own feelings?

"Spock," he begins slowly, searching for the right words. "I won't deny that I am surprised or... hesitant, but what has brought you to me tonight is an emotion I would never fault you for. You asked that I listen. I'm listening."

He essentially hands Spock the conversational ball, hoping Spock knows what to do with it, and a part of him—an unexpectedly large part—wants to hear more.

The Vulcan, an officer under his command and always a friend by his side, approaches Jim until they are an arm's length apart.

"I have considered the matter of my feelings for some time—"

Meaning that for innumerable hours Spock has struggled, bound by reason and yet faced with an emotion that cannot be dismissed or otherwise locked away. Jim feels keenly, with an almost tremble of his heart, for Spock.

"—and drawn the conclusion that what I feel does not stem from an outside source or result from an unnatural phenomenon."

Perhaps if Jim were a different man (who led a less dangerous life) he would feel slighted by the insinuation that Spock needed to verify the purity of his feelings before accepting them; but they both know, as officers with experience on unusual battlefields and as men who have individually suffered under foreign influence time and time again, that caution can prevent a (often fatal) mistake.

He nods to show his understanding, to show that he is still attentive to Spock's words.

"Jim," Spock continues to say, "I do not wish to cause you distress. I do not seek to force what does not exist. Yet I-I find that I must know if you reciprocate what I feel." Those dark eyes implore Jim to release him from the uncertainty of not knowing.

Jim was in love once. He remembers distinctly the sensation of being consumed, as if from the inside out; and he remembers the despair that can swiftly follow it. Sometimes a man's fears are warranted. This he understands too well, a hint of bitter memory like ash in his mouth.

Honesty is all that he can offer. "I don't know, Spock. You want a clear yes or no." He realizes, "I cannot give you either, not yet. Will you allow me time to decide?"

His response is accepted with more ease than Jim had hoped for. Spock thanks him as though Jim has laid the galaxy at Spock's feet.

He does have one question. "What made you come to me?"

Spock understands that Jim is not asking about the emotion itself but what prompted the Vulcan to end his long silence.

The answer is simple. "The probability of survival for an officer on active duty is... volatile. I would have there be no regret, upon my death, that you never knew you were loved."

Jim swallows and forces his tears to remain in his eyes. "Thank you for telling me."

Spock slowly unclasps his hands and stares at Jim for a moment longer. Jim does not expect Spock to say, "I must go, Captain. Doctor McCoy has agreed to speak with me also in precisely ten point sixteen minutes."

Kirk's brain works hard to make the connection. "Bones?" What does Bones have to—

Oh.

Impossible.

He doesn't realize his jaw has dropped until he has to close his mouth. "Spock," he fumbles, "are you—with Bones—"

"Affirmative."

Maybe Spock is crazy after all.

"Both of us?"

"Affirmative."

He waves his hand weakly in a gesture of okay, that's enough and I need to lie down.

Spock, astute as always, nods once, pivots, and leaves Jim Kirk to ponder his thoughts until he falls into a weary and confused tangle of dreams.

Chapter Text

He tries to concentrate on work but he cannot. McCoy closes his office door in Sickbay—a strange occurrence that will cause his staff to pause and wonder—in order to engage in a private castigation of himself for failing to focus on his patients.

"Quit daydreamin'!" he says fiercely, desperately.

A part of Leonard argues that he cannot take care of others if he cannot take care of himself first.

He has had much practice at pushing aside personal feelings, shoving internal drama to the back of his mind, so that he can save lives. The problem is that no one needs saving right now. The medical bay is quiet, his nurses occupying themselves with re-arranging supplies or organizing paperwork for him to peruse later. Even Dr. M'Benga has pinned the CMO with a bored look and said, "I never thought I'd wish for a slow day to end."

It is Spock's fault that McCoy is reduced to accidental jabs of his finger on a needle because he keeps forgetting that he is holding one.

At the thought of the source of his distraction, Leonard closes his eyes and brings a hand up to his forehead in a natural gesture of dear Lord, help me.

McCoy almost wants to yell at the Vulcan for stirring up his life when he was perfectly settled and content.

Except Spock obviously was not content, was he?

Leonard has a soft and sympathetic heart; he couldn't blame Spock even if he wanted to. Truthfully, the doctor understands that his bouts of anger are misdirected; he is angry with himself.

He should have known.

Sure, Vulcans are the toughest creatures in the galaxy to read emotionally, given that the race refuses to act on emotion. Spock, though—Spock has been his friend for many years; McCoy had thought he was pretty good at noticing the infinitesimal signs of an upset half-Vulcan.

Pulling out a chair, the man drops down and pillows his head on the edge of his desk, whole-heartedly glad that no one can see him do so. He thinks the three words that he has been trying to avoid for two days, words that make his heart rate speed up and his hands shake: Spock loves me.

Does the Vulcan realize how much Leonard needs to hear someone tell him that? How he craves that expression, has tears in his eyes when his daughters says, albeit casually, "Love you, Daddy."

Despite what Spock thinks, Leonard is rational. He knows and understands where his vulnerabilities lie; he is aware that his first instinct will always be to step back from intimacy or commitment, and that the scars on his heart (reminders of a betrayal ages ago) shall never go away.

Leonard McCoy is not a broken man, but he is a terrified one.

The realization comes to him belatedly as he wipes his face, resolved to resume his work day, that while Spock's feelings may have startled him (made Leonard question if such a thing could be real) McCoy has not once pondered if he loves Spock in return.

~~~

before...

 

The entire situation is insane. Spock collapses on the Bridge, brain-napped.

As Jim grasps onto a tiny thread of hope—an ion trail that may lead the Enterprise to the thieves with Spock's brain, or nowhere at all—Leonard stands next to an empty body and tentatively brushes a hand over the Vulcan's black hair. He is torn between the knowledge that any other medical officer would declare Spock clinically dead, and knowing that he, Leonard H. McCoy, is incapable of doing so while there is breath still filling Spock's lungs.

It reminds him too sharply of his father, dying and unable to help his body die.

Leonard made a choice then, not as a doctor, bound by an oath to do no harm, but as a son granting mercy. He had thought there was no hope, no cure, and peremptorily killed his father when...

No.

Don't think of it.

Can Spock be saved? If not, will Leonard choose to let this body, a husk without a soul, go? Does he have a right to make that choice for Spock?

He sits gently on the edge of the biobed, hands useless at his sides. When Leonard thinks of never seeing Spock again, his heart hurts.

No more arguments. How silly, their arguments; yet neither Spock nor McCoy can seem to stop butting heads. Leonard admits to a certain degree of pleasure when Spock responds automatically to his jabs. The Captain and the First Officer may enjoy a physical spar, but verbal spars are for Leonard and Spock. It is, while not a unique interaction, a large part of their common bond.

If Spock is gone, there will be something lost that Leonard knows he will never have again.

"Doctor?"

Leonard hears Christine before he sees her. He stands up, face slightly warm at the thought of being caught staring at Spock.

His head nurse makes a few notations on her PADD as she reads the monitor above the biobed. Leonard feels foolish and awkward (empty-handed and silent) in his own medical bay—a state which, were he to consider it fully, would strike him as unusual.

Chapel talks to the doctor, her eyes trained on her work. "Spock would be fascinated by this."

Leonard stiffens. "He's missing a brain. Fascinating is not the word."

Her laugh is light. "Consider how smoothly it was done, without a single nerve-ending damaged! I have to admit... from a medical perspective I am fascinated too." Christine glances at him.

McCoy cannot argue that his inner scientist isn't intrigued, straining to know how the procedure was accomplished, how he might learn to do something like that. Yet Leonard finds himself saying, "This is Spock we're talking about. Spock, not a lab experiment! He could die—and that doesn't bother you?"

She lowers her PADD, letting it slip onto the biobed, and faces him. Her words are hot. "If I didn't know how upset you are right now, I would slap you, Leonard—superior officer or not."

He realizes then that he just accused Christine of not caring about Spock. They both know she feels for the Vulcan more than most people. With a slump of his shoulders, the man apologizes.

Christine walks up to him and touches his cheek, sympathy readable in her face. "You have to believe that he'll be alright, Doctor McCoy." She tries to smile but her mouth trembles at the edges. "I know it isn't easy. We're trained to see the reality of every medical case that passes through our hands, even when that reality is a hopeless one—but, Leonard, there is hope for Spock."

He is struck by the fierceness of her belief and feels his own spirits lift in response. Taking a long look at the pale body of his patient, Leonard decides to fight against despair—for Spock, because he owes the Vulcan an equal dedication which the First Officer has given to the task of helping many officers in the past.

"Okay," he says. "I won't give up."

The woman drops her hand and steps back. "I know you won't. Spock matters to you."

He tries to downplay the zing of shock which runs along his spine. "The hobgoblin's as much a fixture of the Enterprise as the rest of us stubborn fools this starship can't shake off."

Chapel tucks a pen into her hand. "We're lucky to have him."

Yes, we are. He clears his throat instead and asks, "What needs doin'?" With a bit of a blush, he realizes, "I forgot my schedule. Lord, who was I supposed to take a look at?"

"Don't worry about today's schedule," the nurse tells him as she collects her discarded PADD. "We are handling the other cases. Focus on Spock."

By "we" Leonard decides that she means everyone but the CMO.

The nurse leaves the isolation unit and Leonard is alone with Spock again. He resumes his spot next to the Vulcan. It isn't until a tired but triumphant Jim shows up three hours later to announce that the culprit who stole their Spock away is only a planet beyond reach that Leonard recognizes the significance of his cleared schedule and why the medical staff seems almost hesitant to interrupt his vigil over Spock.

They are extending to him the same courtesy which he would grant a patient's family who did not wish to leave their loved one's side.

Spock... is special to him.

Could it speak, Leonard's heart would say, "Of course, dummy! I've always known that."

~~~

Jim sits up straight, stares dutifully at the Bridge screen of stars, hands crossed on one knee, and...

Completely zones out.

"—tain." A five second pause. "Captain."

Only a voice too close to his ear shocks the man back into the present. Head swiveling, Jim attempts to look like he hasn't just been caught in an embarrassing equivalent of falling asleep on the job.

"Yes, Spo—" He has to clear his throat so that his voice isn't overly squeaky. "—Mr. Spock?"

"Captain," replies his First Officer serenely. "Alpha shift has ended."

Jim opens his mouth once, then quickly closes it. Looking around, he realizes that the crewmen manning the Bridge stations are not the same people who had been present when his mind wandered off.

"Right. Thanks," he says as he stands and cracks his back with a grimace. Spock moves aside so that Jim may pass without brushing against the Vulcan. Kirk says nothing as Spock joins him in the turbolift.

They are six flights deep into the ship when he remarks, "Let's keep my... lapse between us, Mr. Spock."

"What lapse, Captain?"

Bless Spock. Then, thinking that he is starting to sound like Bones, Jim lightly pats Spock on the shoulder and exits the lift at his level. He feels Spock's eyes on his back until the lift resumes its descent. As Jim Kirk strips off his shirt in the privacy of the Captain's quarters, he imagines the sensation of Spock watching him. His shower is a hasty one, full of curses and a tenuous moment in which he almost face-plants on the bathroom floor because his feet are acting like two bumbling idiots.

"I'm too old for this!" Kirk gripes, catching himself on the doorjamb, one elbow awkwardly jammed into a clean shirt.

There's Bones again.

Jim shivers.

What is the matter with him?

Sighing and rubbing at a temple where an aching turns steadily into a pounding, he lies down on his bed in cool darkness and closes his eyes.

Spock is his friend.

Can Spock be more than his friend?

By regulations, by the creed of a commanding officer, the answer is no.

Jim, however, is a man who acknowledges the rules of the heart first. There are times when, as a captain responsible for more lives than just his own, he denies what his heart tells him and follows a different path for the good of the many; there are times when he has to break his heart in order to do what is right.

But when James Kirk can act as he pleases, as his heart demands, he does so without restraint and without hesitation.

Frustrated now, Jim smacks a fist against the coverlet beneath him.

Why is this choice so difficult?

He does love Spock like a brother; yet Jim knows that he would have said no if that were the sole depth of his feeling for his Vulcan First Officer. Something had stopped Jim from denying the possibility of more—and not because he didn't want to hurt the person who had bared his feelings and trusted Jim not to rip them to shreds.

Sounds like you're making a mountain out of a mole hill, Jim-boy!

He rolls over to laugh into his pillow.

Bones.

Good old Bones.

Perhaps Jim is unable to get the doctor off his mind because Leonard is undoubtedly suffering as he is. Uncertain, nervous, lost, hopeful... a myriad of emotions that only a man in a dilemma of the heart can experience.

Jim is drifting into a nap when his mind fuzzily says, You accepted him, Jim. You wanted Spock close and now...

He falls asleep thinking of a memory.

~~~

before...

 

Jim is listening to Scotty's tale of winged monkeys, Klingons in kilts, and an angry Norse God when he catches sight of a familiar stiff set of shoulders in science blue. "Spock!"

There are some privileges to being a Captain—and one of them is that a properly schooled Vulcan can't ignore a call from a commanding officer situated in the middle of a gaggle of people, no matter how antisocial that Vulcan is feeling at the moment.

"Captain." Spock acknowledges the presence of the others as well, naming them by rank and title.

Jim sees a young lieutenant or two look down at their drinks rather than return the cool stare of the First Officer. He leans back and waves languidly at the seat opposite him. "Join us, Mr. Spock."

Spock subtly shifts his stance in a way that clearly reads to Jim I am uncomfortable, and Jim widens his smile.

"Sit," he says, trying to convey trust me in that one order.

Whether Spock understands him or not, the Vulcan takes a seat.

Scotty says, "Well, where was I? Spock, have I ever told ye the story of—no? 'Tis a travesty then! I'll start over..."

Jim and the Chief Engineer are fairly successful at drawing Spock into the conversation, and slowly but surely others relax, some almost forgetting their unease. Spock, to the Vulcan's credit, does not show any sign of exasperation or disinterest in their inane chatter. He is mostly silent, speaking only when spoken to, but otherwise Jim counts this moment as a success.

Then Bones arrives, temper in full swing.

It is rather amusing to watch ensigns scurry to a corner or place a table between them and the dark cloud of crackling blue eyes and furious man. Jim is already braced for an onslaught when Doctor McCoy heads directly for his table.

Bones has barely gritted out "Jim..." before Spock smoothly addresses the irritable McCoy with "Doctor, will you not join us?" The lift of the Vulcan's brow is a clear challenge.

The CMO stills, stares at Spock for a moment, then jerks out a chair and plops down next to Spock.

Jim looks between the two officers.

So. Challenge accepted.

He covers the tiny giggle in his throat by taking a sip from his glass of water.

Spock tilts his head in Scotty's direction and remarks, "I believe, Mr. Scott, that you were speaking of a cry of war given by a two-headed Andorian in what the Romans of ancient Earth would have termed a 'toga.'"

"Aye, so I was!" beams the engineer. He regales the "laddies" to his left, distracting the people seated at the table who aren't numbered among Kirk, Spock, or McCoy. Jim is grateful that this ship inherited such a smart man. He pretends to listen while focusing the main portion of his attention on a potential explosion.

McCoy twitches, something clearly still riding him, and it is not long before the man leans forward to hiss at Kirk, "You and me, we gotta talk."

Jim glances around him in a gesture of significance before his eyes lock with the doctor's. "While I won't dismiss what you have to say, Doctor McCoy, I hope you understand that where you choose your battleground is as important as when."

Bones watches him for a moment; when the man's face finally relaxes, Jim congratulates himself on averting a disaster.

"Alright, Jim," Bones concedes. "Now's not the time or the place. I get it. But, Captain, we do need to talk."

He nods in response to the serious undertone of Bones' voice. "You have my word that we will."

The other man leans back, like Jim, a signal that whatever knot of anger the doctor carries is carefully stowed away. Then, surprising Jim, Bones cuts his eyes at Spock and says, "It's about him anyway."

Spock, who has been a silent partner in this verbal game, blinks. "I do not recall an incident which would incite your wrath, Doctor McCoy."

Bones laughs, and Jim thinks victory.

"Just like a Vulcan to deny being annoying as heck," replies Bones to both Spock and Jim. "It's not something you did, Spock—not this time anyway—"

Jim covers his smile with his hand.

"—it's our ever-thoughtful Starfleet that's making me pissin' mad."

Spock mouths the phrase pissin' mad with curiosity while Jim mutters when do they not piss us off, Bones?

McCoy ignores them. His index finger stabs the table top as he talks. "I gotta Vulcan on board and no medical officer who knows a damn thing about 'em, myself included. I can tell ya his organs are mixed up—"

"Doctor, that is illogical. The placement of my internal organs is standard—"

"—but that's about it! God forbid I have to crack him open and try to fix something!"

Only a Vulcan, whose nerves are made of steel, could sit beside Doctor McCoy while the man blithely talks about a gory surgery of his person and not feel the need to run away to hide.

Jim sees where Bones is headed and reaches out to squeeze the man's arm. "I hear you, Bones. We'll talk about it. Later."

Leonard purses his lips, catches sight of the other staring ensigns along the table and Scotty drinking from a mug (definitely not regulation issue, but Jim doesn't say so) with a look of interest on his face. Bones must decide that he is tired of being the spectacle at the show, so he snorts and pushes away from the table.

"I'll be in Sickbay," he tosses out to the group, "prepping for the ship-wide physical exams scheduled for next week." Most ensigns are wise enough to hunker down in their seats at McCoy's emphasis, but one grins dumbly. The doctor pins him with narrow eyes. "And you'll be my first patient."

Ensign Numero Uno quits smiling.

Jim waits until Bones has left Rec Room II before sighing heavily.

"Captain?" Spock calls his name.

"I'm fine," he tells the attentive Vulcan dismissively. "Bones is a piece of work—and probably the best Chief Medical Officer this ship has ever had."

"Indeed." Just the way Spock says that tells Jim that the Vulcan will have to think on his statement for some minutes before drawing a conclusion.

Kirk rubs the back of his neck. His eyes skip around the room, seeking distraction, before they land on something tucked away in the corner. "Spock," he says slowly as he rises to his feet, "do you play chess?"

The Vulcan answers quite simply, "Affirmative."

Jim fairly dances past Spock—well, he thinks about gleefully dancing, but mostly he tries to stride like an important captain—with the words, "Then let's see if you can beat me!"

Spock is already following him, stating, "Captain, I find that I must warn you..."

Jim doesn't win their first game of course, but he does win something more precious—a hint of warmth in Spock's dark eyes that only needs to be nourished to grow.

Chapter Text

Spock notices slight deviations in the captain's and the doctor's usual mannerisms directly following his proposal. They do not retreat as he assumes a person involved in a heavy deliberation might; that is, Jim does not cease tactile contact and Leonard continues to address him with enthusiastic irritability. However, Spock finds it equally strange that Kirk has yet to broach the subject since that night, or that McCoy is apt to silently stare at the Vulcan for an interminable amount of minutes as though Spock is a puzzle to be solved.

Subsequently his evening sessions of meditation do not rejuvenate him as they should. Spock's mind remains unsettled and, while this is not an unexpected reaction to an unresolved situation, he has always been taught to seek inner peace first and foremost.

Thus late into beta shift, Spock uses his security clearance to place a high-priority call to Vulcan. Luckily, the person who answers the transmission is not Sarek. Spock asks in his native language if his mother is available to accept communication.

The female (who is part of the household staff, Spock recalls, specifically assigned to assist Amanda Grayson, wife of Ambassador Sarek) disappears off-screen. After three point fifty-two minutes of waiting, Spock's mother hurries into view, exclaiming as she presses a hand to her chest, "Spock! Are you well? What's wrong?"

"I am hale, Mother."

She leans closer to the screen as if her action will lessen the physical distance between them. That the woman is worried becomes clear to the Vulcan.

Rather than explaining his matter of urgency (which would not be an acceptable emergency under Starfleet law—a fact he pushes aside) Spock tells her, "I require your input."

Her eyes widen. "Of course, darling." She asks, her voice suddenly soft, "Should I call your father—"

"That will be unnecessary," he responds quickly. "Your insight will suffice."

She smiles, understanding what Spock will not ask from her outright. "Then please, tell me what is troubling you."

His nimble mind presents several politic ways to phrase his circumstances, but none seem suitable to say to his mother.

"Spock, I promise to not judge," she reassures him.

He meets her eyes on the screen and says, "I have certain feelings for James Kirk and Leonard McCoy which are... not platonic."

He fears irrationally that he has upset her when she covers her mouth with her hand. Then, a moment later, his mother lowers her hand. She is smiling.

"How wonderful, Spock!"

Her blatant approval is startling and also gratifying.

Then Amanda questions, "Both of them?"

Spock fails to understand why it should be unreasonable that he feels equal attachment to two separate individuals. After his initial and lengthy evaluation of this new-found emotion, the Vulcan concluded that it was appropriate to be drawn to both Kirk and McCoy, who each provide a natural balance to some aspect of his persona.

Perhaps this is a purely human response, based in a long, cultural tradition of two-person partnerships; the inquiry, then, becomes understandable.

On Vulcan the practice of life-bonding with multiple partners, while a rare occurrence, is not unprecedented. After all, a Vulcan will seek a mate based on the compatibility of their minds; thus it is not uncommon for a Vulcan to locate several suitable companions. Formal marriage, however, serves the purpose of facilitating bloodlines, validating the kinship of offspring, and establishing ownership of assets. In a House, a young Vulcan may be lightly bonded at a early age to another, chosen by the Elders of the House, in order to ease their union and solidify a successful marriage. Spock was bonded to T'Pring since childhood before she annulled their bond during his first Pon Farr.

Such ceremonies do not always carry into the lower tiers of Vulcan society, and life-bonding often occurs through choice rather than arrangement, as it does between Houses.

Spock's mother has stated, more than once, that though it is honorable to be of the House of Surak, she would wish for her son the freedom to decide the important matters in his life—such as selecting his mate. Spock begins to comprehend why she holds such strong beliefs.

Amanda is still talking. "You mustn't deny your heart in this, Spock. As your mother, I forbid it!"

He lifts an eyebrow, allowing her a small triumph with his silence.

"If you seek my approval, you have it. I dare say," she half-laughs, a remarkable glow illuminating her face, "that you shall surprise your captain and your doctor! If they are smart men, they will realize just how lucky they are."

It is necessary for Spock to suppress the suffusion of blood to his face. "They are aware of my regard."

She gives a little gasp of "Oh!" Then, "What did they—" Her eyes darken without warning. "You called me, Spock. You call me so rarely that I was fearful..." The woman's eyes bore into his. "They've hurt you?" she asks too gently.

He attempts to follow her leaps of logic; it is a feat with which he is well-acquainted, having spent ample time sorting through Leonard's more incoherent statements.

Addressing her last comment is easiest. "I am not injured."

"Emotionally?"

"Negative."

That seems to pacify her, her hands relaxing from the tight interlock to which they had been previously subjected.

He continues. "I regret that I do not have more information to provide. Jim, Leonard as well, wishes to consider the matter." Spock pauses, adds, "Precisely one week, three days, and nineteen point nine hours have passed since my disclosure."

Her face softens as she considers her son. "It will be alright. When a human is young, perhaps, he is quick to decide about love; but Jim and Leonard are grown men—and with maturity comes caution, Spock. Are you prepared to wait for them?"

"I am."

Nodding, she reaches out and brushes the screen, a gesture Spock would have once considered illogical. Now he recognizes the sentiment she wishes to express through the gesture.

So he thanks her.

Amanda responds, "I love you, my son. I've always believed the future holds something special for you, and it may very well be that you have found it. Them." Her eyes are bright. "Promise to call me soon?"

He says that he will.

She makes one last remark. "I know you trust these men with your life, so trust them with your heart too. If they break it..." Her smile has a sharp edge that Spock has never seen before. "Well, I shall take care of that!"

Spock blinks, agrees "As you wish" and they end the transmission.

When he settles into the traditional meditation pose, he is pleased to discover that his mind is quick to journey into a deep calm. All will be well, he thinks—and knows these words are true.

~~~

before...

 

These are not men that Spock recognizes. Their faces, yes, they are the same; but it is their hard words and merciless behavior that alarms the Vulcan. He thinks on his observations as he codes a beaming sequence to return the imposters to their universe.

--

The First Officer had said, "Captain, shall I initiate the usual parting communication to the Halkan Council?"

Kirk's eyes were slit. "Did they relinquish their dilithum?"

Spock paused, wondering if the human has suffered a disruption of the brain from transport during an ion storm. "Negative. You informed me that the Federation's proposal was rejected."

The human's sharp bark of laughter was faintly derisive. Spock's hearing picked up the soft murmur of pathetic aliens...

"I don't suppose your Federation authorizes genocide, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, tone not at all playful though his mouth quirked.

Spock didn't bother to reply, nor did Kirk bother to acknowledge the Vulcan's presence after that moment. The captain had turned back, eyes heavy-lidded, to stare at the planet filling up the Bridge screen. Spock watched him in turn, then Lieutenant Uhura who was ignoring the station's dials which were lit with incoming transmissions. The woman was filing her long nails into points with a dainty but razor-edged blade.

Swiftly after that unnerving encounter, word traveled to the Bridge that the Chief Engineer stabbed one of his techs. Spock immediately strode to Sickbay, intent on investigating the allegation, where he found Mr. Scott and Doctor McCoy sharing a glass of Saurian brandy in view of medical staff and patients alike.

"Mr. Scott—"

The Chief Engineer interrupted before the First Officer could begin to demand answers. "Aye, I stabbed the lad." Mr. Scott told McCoy next, instead of Spock, "In my defense, he was lazy."

McCoy chuckled into his glass, and Spock shifted his attention to the man he thought he knew. "This is whole damn galaxy is full of fools."

Scotty agrees. "The way I see, if ye are trained to do a job, ye do it without complainin'—or ye die, and the next mongrel in line gets his turn."

The doctor hmphed and rolled his eyes toward the silent Vulcan. "What's the matter with you, Spock?" His name was drawled slowly, like McCoy was testing the sound of it for the first time. "The kid's just scratched, if that's why you're here."

The Scotsman looked disappointed at that bit of news, and Spock saw McCoy shoot the other man a sharp glance. Mr. Scott turned his back to them to refill his drink.

"Doctor," Spock said, "hostile action against a fellow officer is a serious offense. I will have to remand Mr. Scott into Security's custody until trial."

Glass shattered as the Chief Engineer's drink hit a wall with vicious force, barely missing a nurse in passing. Mr. Scott spun around, face red. "Ye'll not be takin' me anywhere! Why you traitorous—"

Doctor McCoy casually handed his brandy to Chapel, who was now hovering next to Spock, then drew his arm back and smashed his fist into the Scotsman's face. Spock had McCoy's arms pinned before the howling engineer hit the ground.

And Leonard laughed.

"He'll go quietly now." McCoy's wintry blue eyes lacked even a shred of humanity, something Spock hadn't realized he associated with the doctor until that moment; it was as though Leonard McCoy didn't care. He released the human in what he would later classify as surprise.

The CMO stepped away from Spock. "While you're about, you green-blooded bastard, tell Kirk to haul his ass down here." Then McCoy said "Thanks, doll" to Christine as he re-claimed his glass and walked away.

--

Spock could argue logically these counterparts are disturbing the balance of this universe, and so they must be returned; but the simple truth is that he wants his Kirk and McCoy and not poor imitations.

The transporter accepts the beaming sequence. Spock hears the faint sound of energy humming through the machine as it builds its charge, and he thinks twenty-one minutes and sixteen seconds. The countdown stays with Spock even as he and a team of security escort the false officers to the transporter room.

Until presented with obvious contrasts, Spock has failed to appreciate how inherently good the two humans are—not pure but honest, moral, and compassionate. They could be otherwise, he knows now, and so he is grateful that they are not.

Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

As Captain Kirk of the ISS Enterprise is forced onto the transporter platform, he spits, "You're the same in any universe, Spock. A spineless Vulcan bred from other spineless Vulcans."

McCoy, in a corner opposite of Kirk, says with genuine meanness, "Half-Vulcan, Captain. Don't forget his concubine mother."

Kirk's mouth finally blooms into a smile; its all shark's teeth and chilling implications.

One minute and ten seconds.

Spock feels cold as he moves behind the console to activate the transporter. When the bodies of the ruthless Kirk and heartless McCoy disperse into particles, he finds that he cares not where they end up.

Chapter Text

"What's bothering you, Leonard?"

Uhura is the first person to approach McCoy about the emotional turmoil the doctor had thought he'd hidden well. The woman perches on the edge of the examination table, head cocked in a way that is too reminiscent of Spock. He has to look away to answer her.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question, Lieutenant?"

She laughs, and the sound reminds McCoy that Nyota is a kindred spirit he can talk to—something she likes to tell him time and time again. It isn't that Nyota Uhura is nosy, or even a mild gossip; no, she knows how to hold others' secrets close to her heart—and the reason she will be the keeper of those secrets is because she is a sympathetic ear. Perhaps it is just part of the woman's skill as a communications officer, being able to read beneath the spoken for the things unsaid.

He sighs playfully as he turns around. "Please tell me that you at least have a legitimate reason for scheduling this appointment. I want something to put in my log other than 'needed to see doctor 'cause he's a stubborn ass who won't talk.'"

"You said it first," Nyota quips with twinkling eyes. Then she makes a visible effort at seriousness. "I am having some abdominal discomfort, so I wouldn't say this visit is entirely off the record."

He frowns, switches a setting on his tricorder, and waves it over her stomach. Uhura complies when he asks her to lie back so that he can push gently on the muscles.

"Tell me when it hurts, a'right?"

Doctor McCoy questions her eating habits, if she has other symptoms such as nausea, headaches, or fatigue. After consulting some of the blood-work, and based on her responses, he informs her, "Your readings are good, and no abnormal scans. I can give you something for the ache, darling, but the best I can tell you right now is to monitor what you're feeling." He writes down a few notes to hand to Christine for a prescription of a mild muscle relaxant. "Now, if anything else strange starts or you just feel plain bad, I want you to come straight here—I don't care if we're in the middle of skirmish with pirate raiders. And if you can't come to us, call us to you."

Uhura straightens her tunic and nods in understanding. "You have my promise, Doctor."

He remarks dryly, "You're definitely one of the smarter people on board; it's the blockheads like the Captain who haven't the sense God gave a goat. I tell him not to run around with a fresh wound—and what does he do?"

"That's why you're on this ship, Leonard," Uhura tells him sweetly. "Anyone else would give up on Kirk. You simply sedate him into compliance."

They share a grin.

Uhura settles her hands in her lap. "Now it's your turn. So talk."

Just as he is trying to figure out a way to tell his friend that she would probably rather not know—Spock would probably rather no one knew except Jim and Leonard—Uhura slips onto her feet and pokes a finger into his chest. "I mean it! You don't have to tell me specifics, Leonard, but it's clear that you need to share this with someone." Her eyes are sympathetic. "I know you usually talk to Jim, but for some reason he's involved and so you can't discuss the problem with him. Am I right?"

She knows she is.

He concedes, "Yeah. It's… complicated."

"Give me the easy version then." Then more softly, Uhura adds, "I know I can help—and even if I can't, I want to try."

It is as if she dares him to deny her the opportunity to be a good friend.

"You win!" He sets his tricorder to the side and runs a hand over his face. "I, well, I have got to make a choice—and it depends on whether or not I want to take a chance." His voice catches. "Last time I decided something like this, it didn't work out."

The woman stares at him for a long moment, and Leonard could swear that she sees something in him; the problem is that he doesn't know what it could possibly be.

Then Uhura replies, "We take chances with our lives every day. Sometimes we get hurt; and sometimes we don't." She reaches up to brush his cheek with her fingertips. "But if we didn't take chances at all, Leonard, we wouldn't be the people we are—we wouldn't be here, on this ship, or even in our given careers. I hate to think of what I would have missed if I hadn't left my family." Her smile is almost sad. "I was engaged before I joined Starfleet," she says after a pause.

Leonard takes her hand in his, surprised. "What happened?" he asks, knowing that if it isn't too painful, she will tell him. And for some reason, McCoy thinks he needs to hear Nyota's story.

"We realized that we wanted different things, even though we loved each other. He had a path to follow that wasn't in the direction of my own; for a long time, I thought that I might have made a mistake, walking away. I missed him, and I wondered if… if being alone was my penance."

He says gently, "Now that's foolish, darlin'. You're a smart, beautiful, and talented woman—and some day you'll find a person worthy of you."

She kisses his cheek. "Thank you for that. What I meant to say, to you, is that I have had some regret because of the chance I decided to take but I also knew, when I made the decision, how much happiness it could bring me. And that made it a good risk."

"How do I know if this risk is good or not?" he wonders.

She studies him. "Picture yourself as if you've already chosen to do it."

He does.

"You're smiling," she says.

Leonard starts, realizes that he is. "Well I'll be damned!"

"No," Nyota tells him, "if you're lucky, you will be a very happy man."

~~~

before…

 

"Mrs. McCoy keeps the house."

Leonard stares at his wife, then at the divorce papers on the table between them. He is tired, beaten under the words of Jocelyn's lawyer. "What else?"

He listens to a long list of assets built during the marriage—and realizes that by the time this meeting is over, his wife will have taken most of the more valuable items in their life. Except…

"Joanna," he dares to say. "I want full custody of Joanna."

McCoy directs his words to his wife, but it is the lawyer who answers. "That is unacceptable, Mr. McCoy."

He slams a fist onto the table. "She's my child! I don't care about the rest—" Leonard pleads to Jocelyn, who stares at him without flinching. "You can have everything—the house we built, my savings, alimony—but give me Joanna. Please."

The lawyer looks to his client. Jocelyn closes her eyes, then, briefly. When she opens them again, Leonard seems a familiar look that makes his stomach drop. She'll fight him on this—and when Jocelyn goes to war, she doesn't stop until she has victory.

"Our daughter," the woman he loved (still loves now, even as she squeezes the life out of his heart) says slowly, "is the only good thing that came of our marriage. I'm her mother and she needs me in a way that she won't always need you, Leonard."

Her words are like a blow.

Is this how Jocelyn felt? Had Leonard just imagined the happy years, when they were younger, in love; years before the overtime hours and traveling his career demands, long before he felt the estrangement grow without knowing how to stop it.

The lawyer's face has a hint of pity, and that Leonard cannot stand. Already, his friends and family are saying, "poor Leonard" and "it's just divorce—happens all the time—you'll get over it."

He shakes his head, trying to deny more than what Jocelyn said. "I'm her father and that gives me the right to be in her life."

"Yes," she agrees. Then to her lawyer, "The judge will grant him visitation rights?"

The two people across from Leonard converse with each other, ignoring him despite he is part of the decision. Doctor McCoy's own lawyer is absent, having opted to represent a case of property dispute between two wealthy residents, a case which shall be considerably more profitable than divorce proceedings. He feels stretched thin from the workload and this emotional mess, worrying about his daughter's mental well-being over the split between her parents. On top of that, today McCoy is running late to the hospital as it is, and now he has to find another half-decent lawyer.

The world seems to be collapsing around Leonard McCoy, and the man has finally realized how helpless he is to stop it.

"Can—can we talk about this later?" he drawls thickly, too low on energy to correct his accent. Jocelyn hates his accent.

His wife (ex-wife, he corrects with a pang) just sighs, a sound of disappointment. "This is what he does," she tells the room at large, as though there is an audience listening. "Fine, Leonard. Get yourself together, then we will arrange a date to sign the papers."

She doesn't wait for his reply, merely collects her purse, tosses a cashmere shawl over her shoulders, and walks away.

Leonard slumps in his chair, alone. It is many minutes before he wills himself to leave the room. No one remarks on his passing.

~~~

It occurs to Jim that he is missing half of the picture as he watches Bones across the large cafeteria, shifting a plate on his food tray to make room for a cup of coffee.

Spock wants Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy. That means Jim has to accept not only the Vulcan, but he will be expected to share Spock's affection with another man.

Ensign Barrows pauses next to McCoy, saying something with a small smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. Jim reads the red-headed woman's body language well enough. If he remembers correctly, Bones returned her interest once upon a time.

Now the doctor marginally shifts away as he answers whatever teasing request was, no doubt, asked of him. She looks disappointed.

Jim, surprisingly, has to swallow down a lump in his throat. He makes sure that it is completely gone by the time Bones drops into a chair opposite him, tray clattering onto the table.

His mouth stretches in a tight smile. "Tonia, right?"

"What?"

"Ensign Barrows."

Leonard glances behind him as if he expects to see her standing there. Then he fixes a sharp look on Jim. "You know who she is, Jim. There's not a crewman aboard you can't name."

He shrugs, deciding that to say anything else will arouse Bones' suspicion.

They settle into a silence that is too prevalent between them these days. Jim sips his drink while Bones half-heartedly rearranges his salad.

"Jim—"

"Bones—"

They speak at the same time, like a bad comedy. Kirk gives a short laugh, leaning back as he gestures for McCoy to go first.

McCoy pushes his tray away to prop elbows on the table. "We can't keep avoiding Spock on this; if anything, we will hurt him drawing it out. I don't think either one of us wants that."

"No," he agrees. "Bones… You and I, we should talk about the details. All of them."

At the confusion on the doctor's face, he clarifies, "Us, I mean. This is about—us too."

Leonard's eyes drop for a moment. "Damn. I guess my brain is more muddled than I realized, to forget that." Then he nods, looking into Jim's eyes. "You're right. My quarters or yours?"

Things are actually simpler than he anticipated. "Yours."

Bones doesn't bother to ask the time because they keep track of each other's schedules fairly well. Jim pushes back from the table and stands. Hesitating, he opens his mouth to speak but closes it again.

Despite that Leonard is concentrating on drinking his coffee, the man says, "Might as well spit it out, Jim."

Caught. "I'm glad it's you, Bones." Where did that come from?

Startled blue eyes flick up to him. "Really? Why, I… Thank you."

He nods and moves away. Bones' voice calls to him as he passes around the side of the table. "Jim?"

Jim stops, waits.

"Ditto."

He leaves the mess hall with a lighter step than usual.

Spock and Bones… An all-or-nothing package. He doesn't have to choose this time.

~~~

before…

 

"Gentlemen, I'll decide."

They have less than one hour and thirty-five minutes; time is running out, and while Jim fights his body's weariness to stay on his feet, he agonizes that his final moments of life will be used to make a decision that breaks his heart.

Both Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy have volunteered to risk their lives, death almost certain, in order to find a way to save the ship. Bones displays a passion for the mission, is determined that this opportunity cannot be pushed aside to study an organism their galaxy has never encountered. Jim is less concerned about the potential medical knowledge than keeping his crew alive. He knows Bones is not that callous, never could be, and he also knows that the odds of McCoy surviving under the strain are low. Spock, on the other hand, has the strength to withstand such strain and a scientific—though not necessarily biological—mindset. The part of Jim which is a captain in its purest form tells him that his Vulcan First Officer is the better choice.

His heart cries No!

James T. Kirk would gladly step into that shuttle, if only to prevent the death of either man.

He recalls how Spock bluntly declared that Jim cannot be risked, in a logical argument that cut through Kirk's reasoning like a honed blade. On this, McCoy is in agreement with the Vulcan; though perhaps the doctor agrees for the sole reason that he instinctively bucks against placing another person in harm's way (unless, of course, that person is McCoy himself, which Jim finds both ironic and worrisome).

So Jim cannot pilot the shuttle. It has to be either McCoy or Spock.

He wants it to be neither.

He wants to turn back time, reroute the ship's charted course—anything that could minutely change the outcome of what must happen in matter of minutes.

This is why Jim thinks that to love someone is more painful than it is wonderful. He is a man always in danger, a man always forced to choose between duty and relationship. Were he to forgo personal attachment altogether, he would be so much more efficient—and so much less vulnerable. Yet the thought of doing so makes the man ill; he imagines a sensation akin to having a piece of him ripped out and tossed away.

Bones would say, "It can't be helped, Jim. You're human, and a human cannot deny the need to love."

Is Spock luckier in this respect? He comes from a race than places logic before love; Jim knows the decision for the Vulcan would only take half of a second—and it would be unbiased. Jim has to fight with himself to overcome his biases, his wants, and his denials. Every choice like this one is a struggle—and a scar that lingers with him long afterward.

He jams a hand into his hair, a gesture of hardship that he only succumbs to once the struggle is over, once he can give himself a split-second to regret what he has decided.

Then Kirk loosens his grip on his hair, drops his hand to the comm unit and says, "This is the Captain. Mr. Spock, Doctor McCoy, report to my quarters immediately. Kirk out."

The Captain is back, and the Captain will bear the brunt of the responsibility—and inherent tragedy—that will result from today. And if Kirk lives, it is the man beneath the armor of the Captain who shall pay the price.

Chapter Text

Leonard thinks that he should be nervous, waiting for Jim. He circles the room, pausing only by the entrance to his small bedroom to glance around it as if seeking something. But that is a ridiculous notion, because there is nothing which Leonard needs for a conversation about romance.

He grimaces.

Romance—not a word the man ever thought he would say again in regards to himself.

But isn't that what this is about?

He has a deep friendship with both Jim and Spock. Now Spock is asking for more, for a new element that has the potential to change the nature of how they respond to one another.

Again, he admits that he is afraid to make that leap.

Romantic love isn't necessarily a whole other level of emotion; it can be a new facet to an already established bond. Sometimes it happens naturally between two people, a progression where, once the choice is made, the line blurs and it just fits; other times, romantic love comes first.

Leonard is aware that he, Jim, and Spock fall into the former category.

Again, he asks himself: Is this the right path for them? If they come to a dead end, further down that path, will they be able to turn back, or simply be stuck?

He doesn't want to lose either person, because the truth of the matter is simple: Leonard loves James Tiberius Kirk and Spock of Vulcan. He imagines not having them in his life (even if only to trade arguments or share a drink) and that hurts him beyond reason.

As a light tap sounds on the door to his quarters, McCoy turns, thinking that perhaps he and Jim shall be able to figure out where best to go from here.

He admits his friend into the room. For a moment, they stand awkwardly facing one another and without words. Then Leonard sighs, says, "Do we need to be drunk to discuss this?"

Kirk's mouth quirks. "If we get drunk, there is a strong possibility we won't talk at all."

"I know." Crossing his arms, not being able to help the defensive gesture, Leonard shifts on his feet. "Damn if I don't feel like a young man wallowing the day after a first date—will she call, or will she not?" He snorts, "I'm too old for this."

Jim laughs. "I've said that a few times to myself already, Bones."

He swallows. "Does that mean… you're having doubts?"

He feels inexplicably relieved when Jim shakes his head.

"It's not about doubts," James Kirk tells him heavily. "What we have, Bones, you and I and Spock… it's great. Could it be better?" He shrugs. "I like to think so. Maybe this is a way to make it better. That's not what… holds me back." He glances at Leonard, an almost uncertain look in his eyes that surprises the doctor. Jim is rarely uncertain about what he wants.

"What's holdin' you back then?" McCoy tries to ask in a gentle voice. He wants to help Jim; always a first instinct Leonard cannot deny.

That sets Jim to pacing. "I'm Captain" is said, as if the blunt confession explains everything.

Leonard lifts an eyebrow and drawls, "I'm forty-five. Anything else you want to share?"

Jim's look is part amusement and part exasperation. "Bones, that's not what I meant."

"Well clarify what you're trying to say—and remember, us older folks need it plain."

That brings a laugh out of Jim. "You, Leonard McCoy, may be 'an old country doctor' but you are still a sneaky man. Fine. Here it is." He turns to face McCoy directly, rather than speaking off to the side. Ready to stand up to his troubles, Jim always is. Leonard admires him for that. "I'm the commanding officer, Bones, and there are times when duty comes first. It could drive us apart; it probably will in some way or another, some day."

"You aren't saying anything I or Spock don't already know, Jim. I wouldn't ask you to put aside duty for us." He steps in closer to the man, tries to choose his words carefully. "I've seen the way you skirt around an actual commitment to someone who wants more, even when it's obvious that you love that person—and I understand. Your job, Jim, it ain't easy, and it won't ever be easy. But you have to at least realize that when someone chooses to stay close to you, he or she will know the risk that comes along with loving Captain Kirk." He takes Jim's hand in his own, holding onto Jim as a way to reaffirm what he is saying. "I'd like to think, Jim, that if this does end some day, it won't be any fault of ours—and especially not yours, because of who you are."

Jim's gentle tug wants Leonard to close the distance between them. He trusts Jim, so he does. Kirk asks him softly, "Does this mean that we are going to try, Bones?"

The answer is there, and it doesn't take much effort to voice. "Yeah. Why not?"

Jim holds McCoy's gaze. "I thought this would be strange. Why is it not strange?"

His shoulders rise and fall in a tiny shrug. Then he realizes, "Maybe it's something we both need—and we trust in each other enough that asking isn't gonna break what we already have."

Jim has an expression he only gets when he is ready to step into battle. Leonard's heart reacts by thumping a little more loudly in his chest.

"Bones," Leonard hears, "can you try to love me?"

"Ain't no tryin' about it, Jim. I already do."

It's not such a terrible thing, he decides, as Jim leans in to brush their mouths together. When Kirk pulls back, Leonard blinks at the smiling man.

"So?" Jim wants to know.

Leonard shakes his head, says drolly, "Who's going to teach the hobgoblin how to kiss? You think his daddy explained that bit in their talk about the birds and the bees?"

Jim's kiss is sounder this time, which Leonard discovers that he likes. Then they step apart.

Jim remarks as he pulls out a bottle of Leonard's favorite bourbon, "We'll probably have to explain many things to Spock." Pausing to fish out two glasses from a drawer in a desk and fill them (Leonard rolls his eyes because Jim seems to know McCoy's quarters better than the doctor himself does), Jim picks up the conversation again. "I know that you're giving the go-ahead, Bones, but Spock startled you… and you haven't come to me about it before now."

"In all fairness," he says as he accepts his drink, "you haven't exactly beaten down my door either."

"Yes," agrees Kirk, "but I told you why. Can you tell me?"

Lord, what is it with people and trying to get Leonard to talk? He thinks that he talks plenty. Spock would probably attest to that fact.

But Jim pins him with those knowing eyes, and Leonard finds himself helpless to deny the man anything. "It's just me, Jim; I've got baggage like everybody else." He takes a moment to savor the burn of liquor down his throat, warming his belly. "This all just… pokes a little too near to my sore spots."

Jim nods, glancing away. "I think of what I had with Carol, of our last conversation before I left. I can still hear her. 'You want the stars too badly, Jim. You can't stay, because it will tear you apart—and me with you.'" He looks at Leonard then. "She thought a clean break would be best; so I agreed. I understand, I do. You were in love with Joanna's mother for a long time."

Even if Jim doesn't realize it, it helps that he doesn't refer to Jocelyn by her first name. "Eleven years. Not long for some, but long enough for me. I loved her even after we split up, until the day she remarried. That's when I realized she had moved on and I wasn't doing myself any favors by clinging to what didn't exist anymore." He doesn't like to talk about this, not at all.

Perhaps Jim senses that, because his friend—now something more—runs a hand down his arm in sympathy. The man simply says, "I'm sorry, Bones."

They both know that they can't promise not to break each other's hearts.

Leonard drains the rest of his glass and then taps the side of it with his forefinger. "One more, for my nerves' sake, and then let's go find Spock."

"Agreed."

~~~

before…

 

"Damn you both! Why didn't you tell me?"

McCoy is alone, muttering under his breath and treating the medical instruments in Sickbay with more force than care. Serves Jim right if Leonard tosses a bunch of requisition forms in the fool's lap for equipment replacements.

That small revenge is pointless, doesn't address the real issue at hand.

Leonard is hurt.

Jim and Spock used him.

They needed him to be convincing, and nothing is more convincing that an honest reaction. So the Romulans were fooled, the cloaking device stolen, and Doctor McCoy was lucky enough to deny that Jim was dead with every fiber of his being, to keep searching for a way to bring Jim back.

And it was possible. Barely. He shudders to think of what might have happened had the monitors not indicated Jim's quiet brain activity. It had been a struggle, a terrible scare, but Leonard managed to revive the captain.

Jim had woken up and blithely ignored the fact that Leonard was furious, only to ask for a set of pointed ears!

M'Benga walks by, plucks an abused tricorder out of McCoy's hands and says, "Why don't you relax in your quarters for the rest of this shift? We'll call you if you're needed."

By the look in Geoff's eyes, Leonard won't be given much of a choice. It is his colleague's way of saying cool off and stop rough-handling our stuff.

He locks himself in his office instead.

Leonard doesn't bother to drink; he crosses his arms and spears a wall with an angry glare.

A quarter of an hour later, there is a knock on his door. McCoy refuses to move or speak, only the ticking of his jaw a sign that he is absolutely aware of the person trying to barge into his office.

Well, he won't be pleasant company. They'll go away.

Instead of going away, that fool on the other side of the door overrides his commands and steps into his office.

Spock.

Leonard's nostrils flare at the sight of the Vulcan. The tidal wave of anger in him crests. Because McCoy is a fair man, he warns, "You don't want to see me right now, Mr. Spock."

"You are angry."

"Hell yes!" he responds, a fist thumping on his desk. Leonard is out of his chair in a heartbeat, standing so close to Spock that he can smell the lingering scent of the Vulcan's favorite incense. The doctor says, words bitten out, "You played a dangerous game. Be damned grateful that you and your Captain won."

The Vulcan's silence stretches for a long minute.

Since Spock refuses to provide an outlet, McCoy pushes past him with the intention of walking away—before he does something regretful, like punching Spock. A firm hand grabs his upper arm, prevents Leonard from leaving.

"Let go," he says through gritted teeth.

"You are angry," the Vulcan says slowly, "because of the risk involved. That is illogical, Doctor, as we encounter factors of risk on each mission that we undertake."

Most missions don't happen because Jim decides to volunteer his ship for a game of sabotage, and all for a weapon of war. Leonard feels ill about the whole business, not just angry.

"That's not why I'm—oh, damn it, let go of my arm, Spock!"

"I will release you if you agree to explain why you are experiencing pain."

That's when Leonard realizes that Spock's hand is touching his skin just below where his short sleeve ends. The Vulcan is actively tasting the currents of his emotions.

He gives a short nod, knowing full well that Spock has backed him into a proverbial corner and won't let him out until the Vulcan is satisfied. His arm is dropped back to his side. Spock doesn't seem to appreciate his stubborn silence thereafter. The Vulcan casually turns to the door and engages its lock again, except that Leonard is fairly certain Spock has just overridden the usual commands with a security clearance that the doctor can't access.

Then Spock faces him fully, hands clasped behind his back. "Explain."

Leonard paces to the other side of the room, for distance and breathing space. For a chance to calm down. "You don't trust me," he says roughly, back turned to the First Officer.

"Negative."

Spinning around, he can't help but shout, "You decided it was better to use me, like… like I'm a tool and not a person! You know what, Spock?" are his bitter words. "I matter. So you don't get to hurt me that way and just expect me to forgive you afterward."

"I do not expect to be forgiven, Leonard," he is told gravely, "but I do wish for your forgiveness. As does Jim."

He knows that they do, but right now Leonard doesn't feel capable of it. He lets his silence speak for itself.

Spock bows his head for a span of three seconds before turning around and disengaging the lock.

Leonard swallows, anger still riding him, but a small part of him whispers don't let it end like this. "Spock."

The Vulcan stills, listening.

"I'll come to you when I'm ready."

"Understood," replies his friend softly. Then, still paused in the doorway, Spock adds, "You do matter, Leonard, more than I am able to express."

McCoy is left alone again. He sits back down, closes his eyes, and works on overcoming the pain eating at him, that pain Spock had felt—and known he had caused.

Chapter Text

“Lieutenant, can you locate Mr. Spock?

Uhura’s voice filters from the wall comm unit. “I routed a personal communication to Mr. Spock's quarters which the computer shows he received. Is Spock not there, Captain?”

“Not in his labs either,” mutters McCoy, meeting Jim’s eyes.

“Thank you, Uhura. Kirk, out.” The Captain plants a fist against the wall and turns to stare at Leonard as if the doctor should know Spock’s location.

“Ask the ship’s computer, Jim.”

Instead of following the advice, Kirk glances away and says, “Observation Deck?”

“If he’s not working, then I would bet so—especially if that call wasn’t pleasant news.”

Suddenly, it seems less important to tell Spock that they have come to a decision than to make sure their Vulcan is well.

Spock, it turns out, has secluded himself on the Observation Deck. Leonard allows Jim to proceed him inside, to say “Spock?” softly. McCoy will easily admit that he thinks Spock responds better to Jim in some ways—because Spock can fool himself that he is being dutiful, even when he is reacting on a personal level and not as First Officer and Science Officer of the Enterprise.

Except this time Spock does not turn around or even spare them a glance. McCoy catches Jim’s eyes and they separate and circle from different directions, effectively coming up to either side of Spock. Kirk and McCoy pause within range to be noticed but not close enough to actively encroach on the Vulcan’s personal space.

And an invisible wall is there, something Leonard finds alarming. “Spock?” he echoes Jim’s concern.

“Captain. Doctor McCoy.” The reply is flat.

Leonard shoves down a moment of panic. “What’s the matter?” He tries to think of what would bother Spock so badly. “Is it Amanda well? Oh Lord, Spock, tell me your father didn’t stop his treatments!”

“Bones.”

“Damn it, Jim,” McCoy shoots a half-hearted glare at the man opposite him. “Spock’s upset. Now there ain’t much in this galaxy that can upset a Vulcan.”

“I am aware of that,” Jim replies a bit heatedly.

Perhaps Spock is tired of listening to them discuss him like he isn’t there. “My mother’s health is satisfactory, as is my father’s.”

Good, so they can get a response out of him. Jim and Leonard drop their silly argument as the ploy that it was.

“We’re not going anywhere until you share with us, Mr. Spock.” Jim pulls his shoulders back with resolution.

Leonard locks his hands behind his back and bounces once, saying, “Damn right. So out with it!” The doctor thinks grimly that he should have brought a medical tricorder, if only to assure himself that Spock is, at the very least, physically whole.

The Vulcan stays silent for some minutes. Eventually Jim faces away, looking at the stars. When the man starts talking, Leonard doesn’t see any reason to stop him.

“McCoy and I originally sought you out, Mr. Spock, to address your request of us.” Kirk’s eyes flick to McCoy, who nods, and then Jim faces Spock again.

We accept, Leonard thinks. Say it now, Jim. Or I will!

Spock takes the chance away from them. “I withdraw my request."

Leonard couldn’t be more surprised if Spock had hauled off and slapped him. “You—what?”

Jim, a man of action, steps toe-to-toe with the Vulcan, reaches out and grasps the Vulcan’s upper arms. “Spock,” he says roughly, “you don’t mean that.”

“I do, Captain. I regret that my actions cause you distress. You also, Doctor,” the Vulcan adds as he turns his blank eyes to stare at Leonard. “What I said was in error, and that is unacceptable. Should you feel that we can no longer amicably work together, I will transfer from the Enterprise.”

This is entirely backwards, utterly wrong. Leonard's ire rises in sharp response to the shock of pain he has been dealt. “Spock,” he begins, voice low but building, “I don’t believe you.”

“It is not a question of belief, Doctor. It is a fact.”

“Whatever you just said, it’s bullshit, that’s what it is! You don’t get to ask us to make a life-changin’ decision and then back out for—for whatever damn fool reason you’ve convinced yourself of!”

Jim drops his arms. “I’m with Bones on this, Spock. I won’t accept your withdrawal unless you have a valid reason.”

“And think carefully on your answer,” adds McCoy, “because there is only one valid reason—that you don’t care for either of us.”

The doctor steps to Jim’s side, shoulder to shoulder, forming a barrier of emotion they dare Spock to defeat with Vulcan logic.

“Can you lie to us, Spock?” asks Kirk. “Can you lie to us and say that your feelings have changed?”

Spock replies, “I cannot.”

Leonard wants to know, “Then why push us away? We've decided in your favor, you know. This… potential between us, it’s a wonderful thing. I know I would be a fool to give it up.” So would you lingers unsaid but understood.

“I am Vulcan, Doctor, with a Vulcan's constraint in the matters of emotional attachment. It has been expressed to me how unhealthy a bond between us would be. It will harm you; therefore, I will not pursue a relationship beyond friendship.”

Jim beats Leonard to the exclamation, “Who, Spock?” There is a fierce quality to Kirk’s voice.

When Spock says nothing, perhaps to protect them as much as the source, Leonard tosses out a guess. “I’d say it would be your mother… but that’s illogical, isn’t it? After all, she understands better than the three of us that to love a Vulcan is possible. Was it Sarek?”

Spock's eyes fix on a distant point above their heads.

Leonard laughs harshly in disbelief, spinning around to curse at the beautiful spray of stars. “That… hypocrite!” He lets loose a few other choice names for Spock's father.

“Doctor McCoy,” he hears from behind him, “I would prefer that you do not express such an unpleasant opinion of my father.”

Leonard doesn't bother to turn back around, doesn't want to. “Jim, please tell me that this pisses you off.”

“It does, Bones,” answers the man shortly. A warm hand settles on Leonard's back, a comfort that he can lean into. It is Jim's sharp "Spock?” causes McCoy to twist at the waist. He sees the Vulcan retreating.

Walking away.

McCoy's cry of "Spock! You can't do this to us!" echoes in the dim light of the Observation Deck.

Spock only pauses once, to say, "It was not Sarek." Then he is gone.

~~~

before...

 

"I thought we had this planned perfectly." Leonard stares at the party streamers, the laughing people milling around the large space, and then at Spock.

"It would seem, Doctor, that we did not account for the Captain's personal schedule."

"That was your job!" the doctor accuses more loudly than necessary.

The Vulcan's flat look could easily read for your sake, human, do not pursue that ill-conceived argument.

McCoy bounces on the balls of his feet once, sporadically, to indicate his agitation. "Uhura and Sulu put too much effort into decoratin' to have this party wasted—and, hell, Scotty got us the good liquor!" He pivots, intent on marching to Kirk's quarters to drag the man out of his hidey hole for one damn evening.

Leonard expects Spock to follow and is not disappointed. They stand in silence inside the turbolift; walk in silence through a familiar path of corridors. Only when the pair reaches the Captain's quarters, does Spock remark, as McCoy immediately opts to punch in his medical override code, "Perhaps the Captain is not alone."

McCoy pauses, finger poised over the digital pad. Then, "Doesn't matter. If Jim is as naked as bluejay, we'll simply swaddle him in blankets and herd him to the rec room. It's his own damn birthday party!" Leonard makes certain that his last words carry with Southern temper as he stomps through the now-open door.

Kirk's voice drifts to them from the Captain's private bathroom. "Whose birthday party?"

"Yours, you thick-headed fool! What part of 'meet me at Rec Room IV' at such and such time did you not understand, Jim?"

James Kirk pauses, silhouetted between bedroom and bathroom, a towel around his shoulders. He's shirtless and surprised. "Bones, I don't know what you're talking about." Kirk looks between Spock, whose brows are at the Vulcan's hairline, and McCoy with fire in his blue eyes. Then the man grins. "You're throwing me a party? Great!"

Leonard chokes on the nice bit of yelling he had had planned. Instead, he watches Jim pull on a shirt and dig around for a pair of boots. When the man faces them, fully dressed, his face is lit with good humor.

Spock asks the question that Leonard forgets to. "Jim, did you not receive Doctor McCoy's invitation?"

The man looks at McCoy. "Bones invited me to my own party?"

"No," says Leonard indignantly, "Bones was invitin' you to a get-together that was actually the biggest surprise bash this side of the galaxy. Which now lacks its guest of honor!" He makes a noise that he hopes expresses his displeasure.

Of all times.... Jim always answers his messages! How did—

"Doctor, do you recall sending the invitation to the Captain?"

He rounds on Spock. "Of course I—" There are no words to finish that statement, because Leonard suddenly can't remember doing exactly that. Spock's long look makes the doctor close his mouth and cross his arms. "My memory may be kind of spotty, Spock, but I'm sure I sent it."

"Indeed," replies the Vulcan too calmly. "Memory loss is not conducive to your trade, Doctor. Might I suggest a series of cognitive tests—"

"Why you green-blooded—!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen! Please," interrupts Kirk. Their mutual friend and Captain insinuates himself between the two officers, as if Spock and McCoy are about to start trading blows. Dropping a hand onto Spock's shoulder and his other hand onto Leonard's, the man says, "It's my birthday. And as a birthday gift, I am requesting that you both behave civilly to one another for the remainder of the night."

Spock blinks. "My behavior is exemplary."

With a snort, Leonard has a smart retort in an instant but Jim simply looks at him.

Right. Birthday gift. "Fine! But only for tonight, Jim. Can you imagine the consequences if no one was allowed to keep that Vulcan in check?"

If Spock were a cat, he'd be puffed to twice his size. The doctor lifts his mouth in a satisfied grin.

Jim pats McCoy's back. "You'll survive. You too, Spock."

With an easy stride and a cheerful word for every ensign they pass en route to Rec Room IV, Jim takes the lead. Leonard just shakes his head, determined to keep pace with the Vulcan.

Even if he can't poke at the hobgoblin, this evening promises to be a good one. And good ones, Leonard knows, are treats to be savored for the days when everything goes wrong.

~~~

Jim has finally reached a point where he can think of the situation between himself, Spock, and McCoy and not punch a pillow. He can fall into a normal sleep again. Life seems bearable. Then one night an unnatural quake of the ship awakens him; an instant later, red alert klaxons are rattling calm into chaos.

Kirk doesn't think, barely bothers to dress, with boots in his hands and a wrinkled shirt that may or may not be on backwards. He sprints headlong for the door to his quarters, only pausing long enough to punch in a quick, "Captain to the Bridge. On my way. Kirk out."

He has no time to spare a thought for the loud thump in his chest as he and Spock step into the lift at the same moment. They do not speak. As soon as the doors slide open, Jim is already in motion, snapping, "Report!"

What Kirk receives is too much talking at once. He bypasses the Captain's chair to stare at the screen of stars, now most of those stars blotted out by a large, ugly battle cruiser. Jim's never seen its make before.

"It came out of nowhere, Sir! Completely out of nowhere!" says the lieutenant manning Weapons.

How can you miss something that size?

He listens to the damage reports filtering in from other sections of the ship, mostly minimal—supplies knocked around, people startled, a call for medical assistance in the transporter room. He looks over a lieutenant-commander's shoulder for ground zero of the hit on their shields. Had the Enterprise's shields failed to hold, the hull would have been breached too close to the main warp-core reactors. That means the enemy knows where to aim to hurt them most.

"Mr. Spock, the vessel." Jim doesn't need to clarify what he wants to hear; his First Officer always anticipates him.

"Unknown origin, Captain. Distance, one hundred point nine meters and closing. The computer's sensors detect dissipating levels of ion-pulsion, I suspect, remnants of the weapon they employed against us.

"Uhu—" Jim catches himself, because Uhura isn't on the Bridge. He turns to face the communications officer on duty. "Lieutenant Harrows, can we make contact?"

"No, Sir," replies the soft-voiced man. "Their shields are encrypted with some type of scrambler. I cannot get a message through—not even a hail, Sir."

Something grim rises within him. An enemy that isn't interested in a discussion or even a surrender. He settles into his chair, ears catching the relevant information being tossed back and forth across the Bridge while still focusing on their attacker on screen. Issuing a series of sharp commands, he wants to put distance between them and this cruiser; he needs a precious stretch of seconds to work out a strategy. The other ship follows the Enterprise in an almost lazy fashion, like a cat toying with a mouse.

"Mr. Scott," Kirk calls into the comm unit built into his chair, "how fast can you get us out of here?"

"Scott, here. Ye got to give me time, Capt'n! Of all the blasted days to be in the middle of maintenance—!" Jim listens to Scotty's burr of invectives with a touch of grim amusement.

"I need the engines ready for warp, Scotty," he says. "We may need to—"

"Captain," interrupts the Vulcan, "sensors indicate the vessel is gathering energy in preparation to attack. We are approaching the outer band of our range of fire."

"Hit them first, phaser banks," he automatically snaps to the man at the weapons console. If they can disrupt the ship's intentions, they can continue to pull back...

The enemy doesn't even rock with an aftershock of the blasts; it looms, untouched and all the more menacing. The Captain clenches his fist, knowing instinctively what that means.

The lowered pitch of Spock's voice confirms that Kirk is right. "Captain, their shields did not drain in response to the energy of the phaser banks. I recommend a full retreat."

He curses like Bones in his head.

Nothing to be done, not now at any rate. "Scotty, give us as much as you can."

"Aye, Sir! Alright, lads—"

"Incoming!"

Kirk clings to the arms of his chair as the ship threatens to pitch him across the Bridge.

"Minor damage on deflector shield two. Shields holding at 56.35%," calls Spock from behind him.

Whatever the Enterprise is being knocked around with, it's powerful. "Scotty!" bellows Jim into the speaker.

The ship jerks once, then Jim feels the familiar hum down into the marrow of his bones as the Enterprise leaps grandly into warp-speed. In the next few seconds the Bridge screen is blur of light; when they finally come to a standstill, silence holds Jim and his crew captive.

Slowly, the Captain rises. The same look is on every face, except Spock's. The Vulcan remains straight-backed, his head turned away to his console.

What the Hell just happened?

Part of that question is answered in a terrible way. Jim is attempting to make sense of how an unidentified battleship appears "out of nowhere" (not on their scans) when a panel that Jim had hoped never to see lit goes online. The force with which the man hits the button on his chair's arm could easily damage it. "Captain to Sickbay! Sickbay, report!"

No one responds. His blood runs cold.

"Spock?"

"The bay is sealed under bio-hazard quarantine."

"System-activated?" Jim's heart wants to leap out of his chest.

"Negative. Activated through the Chief Medical Officer's clearance."

There are only a handful of reasons why Bones would engage lockdown on Sickbay if the ship's computer did not automatically detect contamination; and in any scenario, it means something is in the medical bay which the doctor wouldn't dare let loose on the ship.

"Jim," Spock says, bent over his console reading data. "There are four lifeforms detected in Sickbay. The computer recognizes McCoy's bio-signature—" Spock steals a look at Jim. "—but the rest are unknown."

He leans onto the chair for just a brief moment to steady himself. Then, in a precise push, Jim launches himself towards the turbolift. "Have Security met me at the bay," he orders no one in particular, too wrapped up in thoughts of what might be happening to Bones.

Jim Kirk looks over his shoulder at his First Officer, who tries to follow. Eyes implacable, he tells the Vulcan, "You have the conn, Mr. Spock."

"Captain."

He steps into the lift, willing it to quit taking forever to close.

"Jim."

Jim doesn't wait to listen.

~~~

before...

 

James T. Kirk gambled and lost. In sparing his crew certain death by not giving an order that would have ripped the Enterprise apart, he left them to the mercy of the Kelvans. And when the Kelvans reach their own galaxy...

Jim simply could not condemn over four hundred people to die; yet, by his inaction he may have done worse, opened Pandora's box. The only difference between that myth and this reality is that Jim feels like he let hope escape too.

Hopeless. Something no one wants to feel.

This is why the man lies in his bed with eyes closed and breathing shallowly, listening to an unnatural silence, seeing an unnatural emptiness in corridors of the Enterprise in his mind's eye, and thinks that he has failed.

Is a captain's duty to his ship, or does duty lie in the words of his sworn oath, to inspire through example, educate through exploration, and protect by necessary means the citizens of the Federation?

Kirk flings his arm from his eyes and sits up. He can't linger in this room another minute, no matter Rojan's orders, not while the enemy roams his ship, turning his crew into nothing but fragile shapes to be crushed between a pair of hands or under a boot heel.

He transverses the halls looking for at least one officer walking, talking, breathing like him, only to find what amounts to a massacre of innocents. Kirk swallows down pain and blinks back tears.

Yes, he has failed so many.

--

McCoy watches Kirk. What Jim sees in Bones' eyes makes his stomach sink.

The doctor says, "Scotty tells me that you could have destroyed the ship in the Barrier. Why didn't you?"

Jim hears that tone, an accusation, and it is like a claw hooking into his chest, tearing him open. "I couldn't," he says softly, a bit weakly.

"If it was our only chance to stop 'em—" Heat grows steadily in that Southern drawl.

His defenses begin to crumble, pain peeking out. "I didn't think it was."

"Jim!"

"Bones, that's enough."

"Jim, I saw them reduce four of my doctors and nurses into those little cubes—"

Kirk slams his fist onto the table, anger hot on the heels of his anguish. "They've reduced the whole crew!" he yells back.

--

They survive. Again.

Jim's crew is restored, the Kelvans defeated by the persuasion that they are too human and would be outcast by their own people. Rojan and his band are dropped off on a planet for colonization, so they may have a home-world in a galaxy not their own. Yet Kirk wonders how well a race like the Kelvans—born to conquer, Jim has been told—can ever settle peacefully. As the Enterprise breaks orbit, leaving behind the Kelvans, he rubs the back of his neck. The feeling of "red alert" remains, just as it did that the day Dr. Daystrom installed the M-5 into the computer banks of Jim's ship.

Bones comes to the Captain's quarters not long thereafter to apologize. Though Kirk waves the man's sincere words away, already knowing that his friend feels guilty, he keeps silent on his true feelings. For Jim is certain that Bones had been right. He should have made that call, despite how difficult, cruel, it seemed at the time. Any decent captain in the heat of battle knows to fight for the many and not the few.

Jim is aware that some day he will face with that choice again. He can only pray that he doesn't fail a second time.

Chapter Text

Leonard has had better ideas. Three mean-looking beings with two-fingered hands, a weirdly natural armor, and curled horns (reminiscent of devils, he muses, minus the hooves) are clearly arguing. One of them gestures at McCoy and makes a chopping motion. Yes, the Senior Medical Officer has concocted smarter plans than this. Then again, if by locking himself in with these bastards prevents slaughter, McCoy is certain that he made the right decision.

It starts with Leonard being tossed out of his office chair without warning. It is early into gamma shift, and he hasn't been able to sleep. So the doctor is slowly wading through a stack of paperwork at the time of the attack, a rather obvious ploy to keep his mind distracted from musing on Vulcan stubbornness.

Nothing spices up a miserable atmosphere like a space battle.

The small medical staff splits into teams—one to stay in the med bay and handle cases which trickle in; the other are response teams to answer medical emergencies in other areas of the ship. McCoy and a nurse on duty head out to the transporter room. While they can't be faulted for doing their jobs, McCoy takes that one step inside that room, hairs on the back of his neck rising at the eerie silence, and thinks damn it, we aren't prepared for this.

Of course, a second and third step reveal a strange creature pointing a phaser at them and its two companions lying in wait on either side of the entrance. Leonard spies the arms of prone Starfleet officer behind the console, snaps out of his shock, and blocks out the danger. The nurse follows him. The man is unconscious from a phaser stun, and he has a bad burn on one arm which needs to be treated.

The nearest unknown being prods the nurse, who holds her strip of gauze in front of her defensively, to gain their attention. It announces somewhat stiltedly, "You have Captain. Take us to Captain."

Now, McCoy generally leaves the fighting to Security (and Jim) and opts to negotiate himself out of a sticky situation. Failing that, he resorts to profane name-calling. Leonard is on the name-calling bit by the time the three buffoons realize the very angry human has no intentions of escorting them to the mysterious captain of the ship.

A steady hand levels the stolen phaser on McCoy for a heartbeat before shifting to stun the nurse. She crumples and Leonard, a curse on his lips, cradles her head. He has to make a hard choice then. It is either to do what they ask or outsmart them and somehow warn Jim and Spock that the Enterprise has been breached.

Leonard, as the First Officer would verify readily, is foolhardy most of the time, leading with his heart and not his head. His eyes linger on the communication unit built into the transporter console and an idea takes root. Yet, how can he find an opportunity to sound an alarm? Without doubt the doctor will be killed instantly if he attempts that, especially if he succeeds. These invaders want to surprise Jim on the Bridge and forcibly overtake the ship—Leonard would bet his eyeteeth on that. On the other hand, were Leonard to alert Security and the beings escape into the ship, the Enterprise is large that it would take too long to find them. The amount of damage that could be done in that time...

A voice too reminiscent of his grandmother from years ago chides Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Leonard.

Right now there is little chance he can do anything at all—

The ship rocks, like a Godsend, and Leonard's brain stops thinking as his body reacts on instinct. The three invaders yell, two of them pitched across the floor. McCoy throws himself past the other one, knocking it off-balance in passing as he strives to reach the communication panel. In an instant decision, the man barks into the speaker, "Sickbay, McCoy here. Evacuate immediately!"

Someone responds, shocked, "Sir..."

"Evacuate!"

The Enterprise has quieted, and a strong hand grabs the back of his tunic, hauling Leonard away from the console. The doctor is delivered such a forceful blow to the face that he hears the bone crack in his nose.

"What is Sickbay?" demands the leader as he shakes McCoy like a child's rattle.

He gasps out, "My department—told 'em not to follow us down here. I can't—" he half-lies wildly, "—let you hurt them too."

Narrow eyes regard him. Then, "No more tricks. Lead us to Captain."

Leonard fights to ignore the slide of blood down his throat. "A'right. I'll take you to the Captain."

The other two have recovered, and Leonard is forced to walk in the middle. He doesn't bother to keep a hand to his nose, knowing that the nosebleed cannot be stemmed unless he has the proper tools or it clots on its own.

Because McCoy is a man who hates to be pushed around (and because he is a doctor sworn to do no harm, including the prevention of harm), he pretends to take the three bastards to the Bridge. To his advantage, they don't have a damn clue which way is up or down. Imagine their surprise when Leonard pauses outside a set of doors, hesitating dramatically enough that they rush past him into Sickbay, prepared to fight a room of Starfleet officers and beat down a captain.

Well, McCoy's plan differs drastically.

He uses the opportunity of their confusion to command Sickbay to initiate a bio-hazard quarantine. To say they are surprised to discover they can't get out is a mild description. Unfortunately for McCoy, there is no one besides him to take the brunt of their anger. It's a damn good thing, he decides, that there is nearby equipment to patch his body back together.

An overhead Sickbay speaker shrieks (on the heels of a violent blow to Leonard's side) "Captain to Sickbay! Sickbay, report!" in Jim's voice. McCoy doesn't have the breath to answer. All Leonard can do is close his eyes. A fleeting pang of regret reminds the man that he may never see Jim or Spock again. Then it is gone, lost in the sharp sensation of pain.

~~~

before...

 

"Well either choke me or cut my throat. Make up your mind."

Leonard rarely feels this calm, this in control—especially when one of his own scalpels is pressed against his skin and an incredibly strong hand squeezes his throat.

Newly awoken patients must be handled with care; Leonard always talks to them with gentleness, trying to quiet their nerves. He has had his share of hostile patients too, but there is something in this man's eyes that tells McCoy fear is not what drives the patient to threaten him. And it won't be fear that drives a killing blow.

He is asked a question, the typical question of any person who discovers he is not where he last remembered. When Leonard begins to answer, a hint of authority rising in his voice, that hand around his throat tightens in warning.

So he says more softly but with no less steel, "You're in bed holding a knife to your doctor's throat." Leonard is warned a second time but he ignores it. "It would be most effective if you cut the carotid artery just under the left ear."

Leonard knows that men like this one only respect a certain kind of response, and that knowledge—and the challenge he issues—pays off. The doctor is released.

 

--

The man's name is Khan. McCoy, having experienced firsthand that Khan is dangerous, watches with growing trepidation as the formal dinner progresses. There are hard men in this room, not just Khan but Jim too. Khan calls Kirk out early on.

"You are an excellent tactician, Captain. You let your second-in-command attack while you sit and watch for weakness."

Leonard has never seen Jim so taut. He wonders if it is the captain's instinctive response to a man like Khan which brings out the coldness in Jim's measured stare. Then Jim jumps into the conversation head-first and Leonard is surprised by the strong conviction in his friend's voice. Jim's questions drive Khan to reveal himself almost instantly. Everyone at the dinner table is given a preview of the man's temper.

"...we offered the world order!"

If the blood in Leonard's veins could run cold, it would now.

Khan looks at Captain Kirk and murmurs appreciatively, "Excellent, excellent."

His commendation of Jim's strategy tells McCoy all he needs to know. Khan needs a worthy enemy to fight, and he has found such in Kirk.

--

 

"If any of you joins me—anyone—I will let him live."

It takes all of Leonard's willpower to keep silent. He is not only a doctor but a personal friend of the Captain's. He doesn't want Jim to die.

He also doesn't want to betray Jim's wishes, and Leonard McCoy is aware of what those wishes would be. Jim would fight to his last breath against a dictator like Khan—and so must Jim's crew.

No one moves, no one says a word.

Their captor is infuriated. "It's so useless!"

Not useless, McCoy thinks. The defiance of the Enterprise crew is their last hope and would be Jim's dying wish. He pushes past pain to say a short prayer for Jim Kirk. Instead of a prayer, as he had intended, it comes out as a silent Damn it, Jim, I won't let you down—and you had better not die and let me down either.

~~~

What have you done, Bones?

Jim knows fear, knows it well. He is strong enough, however, to keep that fear out of his voice when Security circles behind him outside the Sickbay doors.

Kirk calls to the Bridge. “Status, Mr. Spock.”

“Two persons found stunned in the transporter room, Captain. Dr. McCoy called in an evacuation of the medical bay before bio-hazard protocol was engaged. The medical staff and patients have relocated to the zero-nine sector of the ship. Dr. M’Benga is now in charge and reports that all personnel accounted for, excluding the Chief Medical Officer.”

“Have we identified who is locked in Sickbay with McCoy?”

“Negative. The computer is unable to match the bio-signatures with any known species in its database. There are, however, several possibilities of identity that Starfleet records would not contain due to a dearth of knowledge about the races only recently contacted.”

“I need to know which of those possibilities are likely to attack this ship, Mr. Spock. Keep me updated.”

“Understood.”

His voice stutters only once. “I-If Doctor McCoy’s condition changes, I must know.” If Bones goes from alive to dead he cannot say so bluntly.

The First Officer comprehends his request well enough. “Yes, Captain.”

They cut communication.

He doesn’t ask about reversing the quarantine; can’t ask because it is pointless when he already knows the answer. As Captain of the Enterprise, Jim has the authority to override the quarantine. Why he doesn’t do so immediately is simple: he cannot risk endangering the ship. Walking into that medical bay, even with trained security officers at his back, without some idea of the situation he faces is reckless. Were this a planet, the surface of colony—anywhere but the Enterprise—Jim would say the code of command be damned. Here, however, the rules are less flexible. Four hundred people on this ship and nowhere for them to run except to escape pods which are, in essence, a last resort for a vessel this size.

This is his ship.

In there, in danger, is his Bones.

Jim walks up to the double doors, places a loose fist against it and leans in, feeling a brief moment of weakness. Then he straightens, reaches beside the door and hits the button to open the line of communication between him and Sickbay.

“This Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise,” he says. Without further preamble, he cuts to the heart of the matter. “Whoever you are, you do not have authorized visitation on this ship. We are prepared to use force against you.”

Kirk pauses, waiting for a response. To his surprise, the speaker crackles and a rough voice answers. “Jim.”

“Bones! Bones, are you—“

“Never mind that, Captain. They—“ Bones breaks off to say, voice harsh and directed to someone else, “—damn you, get that thing outta my ribs! You aren’t giving me a chance—“ The sharp cry of McCoy’s is cut too abrupt.

If Jim had the power to reach through the walls, he would surely commit murder with his bare hands. “Bones!”

When Leonard's voice comes back through the speaker, it is subdued. Jim’s gut twists.

“Captain,” McCoy says, then pants once as if it pains the man to speak, “they demand you come in here. Alone.”

No time to question who "they" might be. He thinks I'll get you out, Bones but McCoy interrupts before Jim can agree.

“Don’t do it, Jim,” pleads the doctor softly. “You can’t.”

He can. He can and he will—

Another voice overlays McCoy’s, something foreign and grating, Standard clearly not a well-known language. “Surrender. Captain only.”

“Jim, for Christ's sake, you’re the captain, you can’t—!” McCoy’s voice fades into the background as if he has been shoved away.

“Five Earth minutes,” says that unknown voice. “After, we kill this one and you hear.”

Jim turns away, ignoring the look of his men as he paces.

One or the many. He wants to fight, wants to save Bones, but McCoy is right. For a moment, Jim had lost his sense of the greater picture. To turn himself over to the enemy is tantamount to handing over the Enterprise.

Unless...

He uses another communication unit, one farther along the corridor where he can speak to Spock without being overheard.

Spock answers his call immediately. “Captain?”

“Ready room.”

There is a short silence before Spock patches back in. “I am in the Ready Room.” Following a pause of breath, Spock calls his name.

“Spock,” he says heavily. “If— I want you to protect the ship at any cost. You can do that, Spock, because I know you can. I trust you.”

“Jim” is Spock’s only reply. In that word, Captain Kirk hears what Spock wants to say but does not, hears an inflection of fear that even a half-Vulcan cannot suppress.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t change your mind.” Jim has no choice but to say that because there may be no other opportunity and he can’t let things end as they are, not without speaking for both Bones and himself just once. More steady than before, the Captain informs the First Officer, “I relinquish command of the Enterprise to you, Mr. Spock. Kirk out.”

It is rather easy, then, to nod to his security officers, use the last vestiges of his authority to tell the ship’s computer to release the lock on the front entrance to Sickbay, and step into a danger zone. The moment Kirk is inside he says aloud, not bothering to address the three ugly aliens staring at him, “Computer, voice recognition, James Tiberius Kirk. Re-engage quarantine. Note in Captain's log that command of the Enterprise now belongs to First Officer Spock.”

Somewhere, the ship’s computer is whirring with data bits and bleeps, recording everything that Jim needs it to.

James Kirk looks at the enemy, who steps forward to meet him. “I’m here at your demand but as you just heard, gentlemen, I am no longer Captain of this vessel.”

A familiar voice echoes in the too empty bay area. “Always changing the rules, aren’t you, Jim-boy?”

He strides straight past the creature with a phaser without hesitation. The doctor is slumped on a stool, head bent, and hands busy inserting a cartridge into a hypospray. Jim kneels down before McCoy and lifts his chin.

The blood on Leonard’s face doesn’t surprise him, but it makes him hot with rage. Jim works to push that rage aside in order to ask, “How can I help?”

Leonard quirks an eyebrow, then grimaces painfully. “Right shelf in the cooler closet. I need a bottle of thorizaphiren. Think you can find it for me?”

Jim lingers only long enough to run a thumb across the doctor’s cheekbone, smearing a trace of blood as he does so. Without another word, he walks to the supply closet. Before Jim can slide back the door, a hand grips his shoulder in warning.

Meeting a pair of red eyes, he snaps, “You’ll let me help him or we won’t cooperate. Without our cooperation, you won’t make it alive off this ship.”

Chances are these three intruders won’t get two feet into the corridor before they are surrounded and thrown into the brig. In the back of Jim’s mind is the nagging worry of the battle cruiser, probably tracking the Enterprise through these creatures. He turns again to the closet, opens it, and searches for what McCoy needs. No one stops him.

Bones’ hands never shake when he holds someone’s life in them. Jim has to take the hypospray from those suddenly unsteady hands, fumbling to fill its cartridge for McCoy while trying to recall his long ago training in basic medical care (as is required for all cadets entering the Academy). Instead, he finds himself thanking the Powers That Be that Doctor McCoy is able to give Jim direction on what to do. Between them, they manage to ease the pain of Leonard’s broken ribs and disinfect a sluggishly bleeding wound on his thigh where Leonard says his flesh had caught the edge of a table as he fell, not needing to say that he was pushed (Jim had, at first, thought for a terrified second that Bones had been stabbed). Jim is unable to convince those watching their every move that a dermal re-generator is not a weapon, so they have to settle for bandaging the wound instead.

“I can’t believe you were idiot enough to come in here,” McCoy says at last. “No, wait." The man laughs too shortly. "I can believe it.”

Jim tries for lightness. “You could at least say you are happy to see me, Bones.”

The man snorts. “Right... 'Cause that’s what you say when you meet somebody you love in Hell. ‘Hey, glad you're here!’ and ‘Isn’t the pitch hot?’”

He has the sudden urge to kiss McCoy. The shift of someone to their right reminds Jim that now is not the time to indulge—not until they are certain they are going to die. Then Jim won’t care who sees them or hears his heart-felt emotion.

As if reading Jim’s mind or the intensity in his face, the doctor’s mouth turns up at the corners in a smile, blue eyes softening. Bones tells him, “You’re a good man, Jim. And yeah, I guess I am glad to see you, no matter how crazy that makes me.”

Sentimentality is not a universal trait. A booted foot kicks at Jim’s leg and a brusque voice orders, “Stand.” The phaser gestures at the doctor. “You. Stand.”

Jim rises but places a hand on McCoy’s shoulder to keep the other man in place. “He’s injured; he stays seated,” Kirk snaps in cold voice.

Bones grumbles at his back. “Don’t pick a fight, Jim. They’ve got the strength of enraged bulls on steroids.”

Why does the Federation’s enemies always have super-strength? Sometimes it is like Jim’s space adventures are cliché plots written by a god in a toddler-phase. Smalls favors, Jim guesses, since these beings seem to lack the usual super-intelligence that compliments super-strength.

“Why are you on my ship?” he demands.

One of them stares at him as though the answer is obvious. “Federation ship.”

“Yes,” he agrees. Then, to make a point, “You aren’t part of the Federation.”

They laugh and the sound of that laughter can rattle a human’s bones. Jim winces, resisting the need to clamp his hands over his ears.

The light of Sickbay glints off of the curve of the tallest one’s horns as it lowers its head to look at Jim. He doesn’t step back, but he does brace his body in case it charges like a bull, as McCoy so aptly described these creatures.

“We want,” it says, showing brittle-looking teeth, “ship. Your Federation ship.”

“Join the Federation” is Kirk’s mild answer, “and you will be welcome to work on one of our starships. Otherwise, you are a fool if you think we would simply give you our technology.”

It seems to contemplate his words for a minute, perhaps to translate them. “We do not ask. We take. It is the way.”

Yes, Kirk already knew that—had known it since the attacker first fired at his ship and refused to allow communication between their vessels.

“Then I must warn you, you aren’t the first race to try to take the Enterprise by force—but like the others, you won’t succeed.” Something scrapes behind Kirk, and his back tenses in the brief seconds before Bones’ hand drops onto his shoulder. The slight press of that hand tells Jim that McCoy is trying not to use Kirk as a prop but that the condition of Leonard’s leg is not stable enough to keep McCoy upright for too long. Jim turns his head to look at the doctor’s profile.

Bones at his side—as he wants it to be.

Jim refocuses his attention on the problem staring at them both. “You have one choice. Turn yourselves in and I promise you fair treatment until terms can be negotiated with your people. Or continue to antagonize us, kill us even, and expect swift retribution from the Federation.”

The leader swivels its head to the side, barks a command, and then looks back at Jim. Its two companions use their bulky bodies to block any effective escape route. Leonard’s hand tightens on his shoulder, and Jim says lowly, “It’s alright, Bones.”

“Jim, I—“

“We do not negotiate,” they are told flatly.

He is calm. “Then you have made your choice, gentlemen.”

Watching the leader take a menacing step forward, Kirk’s body shifts to shield McCoy from phaser blast, to shield the man for as long as Jim can hold out (and he’ll try hard to give Leonard every precious second possible).

“Jim!” That hand on his shoulder tugs at him, demanding his attention.

“Bones, stay behind me.”

“Jim, the vents!”

His nose catches a hint of odor before his eyes identify white plumes of gas spilling out of the air vents. He chokes, hears McCoy choking too, and sways with realization (and the quick effect of the gas).

Spock, that brilliant Vulcan, has released anaesthetic gas into Sickbay. He watches as the enemy roars collectively (strangled sounds) and two of them drop like felled trees. The last one unsteadily waves the phaser in its hand, shoots a wall.

Beside Kirk, McCoy’s body folds. Jim has barely enough strength to turn and catch Bones, to ease them both to the floor. A weak “Jim” breaks into the fog of his brain, which is failing against the need to shut down.

Kirk falls half atop Leonard, slides one hand into the man’s hair, and murmurs against the mouth beneath his, “Bones.” Leonard goes slack under him, and Jim gives in too. Kirk's head falls into the crook of McCoy’s neck and shoulder.

That is how the Captain and the CMO are found, sprawled together, but it is the Vulcan Spock who kneels beside the pair and gently breaks the link of their hands to ease them apart. It is Spock who, ignoring everyone else, touches first Kirk and then McCoy and announces “Alive.”

To each officer in the room it is the only word that matters.

~~~

before...

 

“Why, you wouldn’t know what to do without either of us, Spock!” crows Leonard McCoy.

Jim swallows his chuckle along with a large mouthful of the fruity beverage from a pear-shaped glass. The bar is in full swing, and it had taken a miracle (“…like cajoling a cat into a bathtub—damn near impossible!” Leonard had said) to get Spock to leave the sanctuary of the Enterprise. Yet here the three of them are, kicking off the beginning of a much-needed shore leave. Jim spies a swaggering blur of a figure across the room; an inebriated burr of “Uhura, lass, did I ever tell ye what lovely—“ confirms that it is the Chief Engineer already deep into his cups. Jim is only slightly surprised that Scotty did not opt to hole up with his technical journals. Then again, perhaps Scotty is in the same situation as Spock; perhaps someone had persuaded the Scotsman to leave Jefferies tubes for an evening.

Jim is drawn back to the conversation (the verbal battle of wills, that is) between Spock and McCoy.

“I do determine a connection between my ability to function and your presence, Doctor,” replies the cool-faced Vulcan. “I suspect, were you less inclined to interrupt my schedule, I might improve my work output by 0.0015%.”

Bones’ drink sloshes on the table as the man sets it down with a hearty thunk. “Y-You ungrateful, computerized..." sputters the doctor. “I’ll have you know that I visit you out of the kindness of my heart!"

"Indeed."

"Jim! He's just insulted our offers of friendship!"

A brightly clad female catches his attention as she passes by their table. Jim's eyes follow her until she disappears into the crowd. "He insulted your offer, Bones, not mine" is his distracted response. Then he clears his throat, remembering where he is (who he is with) and turns back to the two officers at the table.

McCoy, however, is staring in the direction that Kirk's eyes had traveled. Bones finally, slowly, fixes a narrow-eyed look on Jim, saying nothing. Jim begins to sweat for no explainable reason.

Spock, sensing a new tension among their small group, asks a question in the same tone he uses when he makes an unexpected conclusion to a lab experiment. "Is it not acceptable behavior among Terrans for a male to appreciate the form of a potential mate?"

That shocks both humans into gaping at the Vulcan. Apparently Spock understands more about human behavior than Jim realized.

Bones' shoulders relax as he leans back in his chair. "Sure it's natural, Spock. Unless that male already has a mate."

"I'm not seeing anyone, Bones!" Jim has to lower his voice in mid-denial when someone pauses behind the doctor, glancing at the three officers, before sitting at the other table.

"Didn't say you were," replies McCoy as he sips slowly at his drink.

The mildness in Bones' voice irritates Jim. "Then what's your problem, McCoy?"

Leonard meets his challenge, leaning forward to say, "I don't have a problem, Captain. You've got the problem!"

"Doctor."

"Me?" Though he isn't sure why they are arguing, Jim gives in to the need to thump his fist on the table. Out of nowhere comes "You're the one who thinks you are my keeper just because you are my doctor!"

McCoy draws away sharply, sliding his chair back and standing as he does so.

Spock cuts in with "Jim" as a clear rebuke.

"No, Spock, don't worry about it," McCoy answers the Vulcan without taking his eyes off Kirk. "You made your point. If you'll excuse me, this Senior Medical Officer has work to get back to." The doctor adds, "Just so we don't have a misunderstanding, Captain, it's designated work." The man offers a tight smile to a staring waitress, who had approached to take their orders. "Thanks but no more for me, darlin'." Then he walks away.

Jim pushes his drink to the side and contemplates banging his head repeatedly on the table. The man settles for jamming a hand through his hair instead and feeling miserable. After some minutes of silence, he admits, "I don't know why I said that to Bones."

"Such is often the result of failing to consider words before they are given voice."

He winces and sighs. "I guess I deserved that."

"Jim," Spock tells him implacably, "I am here at the request of both Doctor McCoy and Captain Kirk. I accepted the invitation on those conditions." There is a pause from the Vulcan before Kirk is further advised, "I estimate that Leonard will reach the transportation pad in less than five point two minutes and not engage in transport for approximately another four minutes thereafter."

He catches on and leaps to his feet. "Thanks, Spock!" calls Kirk on his hasty maneuvering through the crowd to the bar's exit.

Had Kirk turned to look back at the Vulcan, he would have seen Spock raise an eyebrow, then easily catch the attention of a waitress to place an order, no doubt explaining that the next round of drinks were for the return of two highly illogical humans.

The waitress (not human herself) would reply with a knowing grin, "We all have friends like that, sugar. They make life entertaining, yeah?"

Spock would, if one considers his wisdom, agree.

Chapter Text

Spock is less than surprised to turn and see Jim entering into the main area of the brig, grim-faced and reasonably alert. He also knows it would be futile to ask why the man is not resting through the lingering effects of inhaling anaesthesic gas. A leader such as James T. Kirk cannot be persuaded to "step aside" while those under his care remain in danger; yet, it is fascinating that Jim had made a snap decision to relinquish command of the Enterprise to the First Officer. Was it a tactic based on Jim's faith in Spock, or was it simply that the human did not wish to choose between his ship and the life of Leonard McCoy?

Spock does not know the answer but he keeps that question in the forefront of his mind so that when an opportunity arises, he may ask it.

At the moment, however, focusing on the safety of the Enterprise takes precedence.

Jim comes to stand beside the Vulcan. "What have we learned about our new friends, Mr. Spock?"

Spock would never use the term "friend" to describe these ruthless creatures. Were Spock younger and less knowledgeable of most humans' penchant for strange humor he would have balked at that question. Thankfully Spock has learned a great deal over the years, and he accepts Jim's inquiry and the sarcasm in which it was spoken.

He responds truthfully, as always. "The interrogation has not born much fruit, Captain. We have ascertained that they wished to commandeer the Enterprise—"

"—something we already knew," comments Kirk.

Spock says quickly, "Affirmative. But they will not speak of their vessel. It is likely the force used against us was a diversion; hence, the Enterprise was successfully infiltrated while otherwise occupied."

Jim crosses his arms; Spock has a brief vision of Doctor McCoy in place of Jim and he pushes that strange feeling aside. The Captain is talking. "Two questions remain then, Mr. Spock: where is the ship which has undoubtedly been tracking us; and more importantly, what signal are they waiting for?"

Excellent queries. Yet without the answers, Spock and Jim cannot make plans for a counterattack. He offers, "We will continue to question them, Captain." The Vulcan pauses, on the edge of an additional remark.

Jim seems to understand what his pause means. "I wouldn't ask that of you, Spock. We may be wading through a danger zone, but no one—no one on my watch—will be asked to compromise his principles in order to survive."

"Jim," Spock turns to the human. "You have my gratitude for your understanding; it would be a grave matter should I attempt to take information from their minds by force—for it will not be freely given. However, were the circumstances to change and the action deemed necessary, I will do what I must."

The man nods, knowing that Spock speaks candidly. "Then we will hope, Mr. Spock, such circumstances will not come to pass."

They discuss for some minutes the trajectory of the Enterprise and the best route to the nearest starbase. It becomes apparent to both officers, after observation, that the enemy under lock and key is less worried about their captivity than they should be. Jim rubs at the back of his neck and mutters the words "red alert." Though Spock does not remark upon this action, he tightens his hands clasped behind his back. He has learned through many years of working beside this human that Jim's intuition is rarely wrong.

Then Jim sighs. "Walk with me, Spock?"

He inclines his head in agreement. The pair exits the brig area, then the Security sector. Spock allows Jim to lead, and the man takes them in a slow, circular pattern about the deck of the ship. After a lengthy silence, Kirk halts in mid-step and Spock automatically stills as Kirk faces him.

"Spock, I would ask you to give me an honest answer but I know that you will. Instead," Jim says to the Vulcan, "I need your word that you won't sidestep me."

"Sidestep, Captain? I am unfamiliar with this term."

"It means that you will answer the question directly and not…" Kirk searches for words. His face brightens then, an indication that the man has found them. "And not respond as your father would when negotiating with Tellarites."

Spock takes three seconds to consider Sarek's behavior during a diplomatic meeting of races. He looks at Jim, lifting his eyebrows, and replies, "I believe that I understand, Jim. I will not… sidestep our discussion."

"Wonderful!" Yet just as quickly as the light comes into Jim's face, it disappears. "If Bones had died, how much would his death hurt you?" Spock is asked bluntly.

The Vulcan now understands why Kirk wants to prevent Spock's initial response—because Spock's treacherous brain immediately tries to skip answering the question altogether. Which should be illogical.

He says slowly, "Doctor M'Benga has verified that Doctor McCoy is not permanently harmed. There is no pertinence to that question, Jim."

"Sidestepping," warns his companion. "It's a hypothetical question. The answer isn't a difficult one, Mr. Spock. How much pain would you feel if we had to place McCoy's remains into a casket and launch it into space?" When Spock does not immediately answer, Jim says more softly—almost kindly, like Spock is being offered a boon, "Picture it for a moment."

He is unable to do otherwise. "I would lament Leonard's death," he answers heavily, feeling the blossom of grief already.

Jim visibly swallows. "We lament most deaths, Spock—for a friend, a parent, someone close or someone not as close, such as the two officers who gave their lives on our last mission. But we mourn for those we love more than we love ourselves. I would mourn, Spock, because Bones is part of me, here, in my heart." The human presses a fist against his own breastbone. "And more than that, I would mourn for all the moments that I didn't get to have with him." Jim inhales deeply, takes a step back to increase the distance between them. His gaze is steady on Spock. "Which is why I won't wait for you."

Spock is uncertain of how to respond, is uncertain of how he wants to respond. He settles for a nod and a brief "I understand."

Jim nods in return. "I owe you for you've done for me, for Bones and me. I know I would have never admitted my feelings if you had not asked me to. Thank you for that."

"Is this all you wished to speak to me of, Jim?" he asks quietly.

"Yes."

"Then, with your permission, I will return to the Bridge." Jim does not withhold permission, so Spock turns around and heads to the closest turbolift.

Jim's voice rings out, calling his name. "Spock!"

He stops, looks back at his Captain. "Yes, Jim?"

Jim says, shoulders back and posture serious, "Don't think we don't want you, Spock—because we do. When you are ready, we'll be here."

"Ready?" he repeats, uncomprehending.

Jim smiles. "To love, Spock. It is not the same thing as knowing that you can love."

Spock watches, silent, as Kirk turns in the opposite direction and walks away.

~~~

before…

 

The Vulcan is aware that he has company before the doctor is close enough to announce his presence. Spock has already disengaged the recorder on his computer by the time McCoy settles in a chair across his desk in his laboratory office.

Spock stills the movements of his hands over a PADD, looks at the human, and asks, "How may I assist you, Doctor McCoy?"

"Well," drawls the doctor good-naturedly, "you can assist me in assisting you."

Spock lets the height of his eyebrow show his intrigue. "I was not aware that I require assistance."

"That's because you'd rather chew rocks than admit that you could do with a little hand-holdin'."

Spock carefully sorts through that statement and files it away in his brain for later inspection. (It is highly possible he will require the use of a computer when that inspection is resumed.) The Vulcan answers the only part which makes the most sense. "Vulcans do not engage in 'hand-holding.'"

"Oh yeah? Then was I hallucinating the affection between your mother and father when they were last here?"

Spock tries valiantly to fight down the suffusion of blood to his face. "That… is not hand-holding, Doctor. It is customary for two mated individuals to…"

McCoy laughs in the middle of his explanation and Spock is surprisingly grateful he does not need to finish describing such an intimate part of Vulcan bonding rituals.

"Why, the tips of your ears are dark green, Spock!" The man grins and leans forward. "Do you know how many females aboard this ship would find that utterly adorable?"

"I do not," he replies blandly.

McCoy seems to catch his next words and change his mind. The doctor sighs softly. "Don't worry, I did not come here to tease you."

"Did you not?"

"No," answers McCoy too seriously. "I wanted to talk to you about…"

At the man's hesitation, Spock stiffens on instinct.

"…Zarabeth," the doctor concludes in a gentle voice.

"There is nothing to discuss."

"Isn't there? Spock—"

"No," he says implacably. "When I asked that you hold those events in confidence, Doctor, I did not intend to speak of the matter again."

"Just because you don't want me to tell anyone—which why does that include Jim, by the way?—doesn't mean I'll keep silent about it with you."

His answer is somewhat of a shock to himself. "I wish that you would."

Leonard stares at him for too long. "Why? Are you ashamed?"

"There is no shame in my response to a situation I could not control."

"Not what I meant, Spock," the doctor tells him. "I meant, are you ashamed that it was Zarabeth that you wanted?"

He does not understand.

McCoy sighs again, more heavily this time. "I like to think that you, given your human mother and Vulcan father, know that 'love as thou wilt' is about as true as truth can get. Does it matter that Zarabeth wasn't Vulcan?" As if asking himself more than Spock, Leonard ponders, "It was your visceral nature, stripped bare, which saw her as a suitable companion—doesn't that count for something, Spock?"

He considers his reply for a moment. "I do not deny what I felt. As you have stated, there can be a certain… compatibility between two members of different races."

Leonard nods. "Then what's got you so upset about what happened?"

Spock does not bother to ask why the doctor thinks the First Officer is upset. However, he does contemplate the question—and its answer startles him. "The emotion was remarkably intense."

"The rage?"

"Love," he clarifies simply. "It was sudden." He voices a doubt that he has had for some time but did not acknowledge until now. "Perhaps it was… disingenuous."

But the doctor is shaking his head. "Love is what it is, Spock, no matter how quickly it ails you or how fierce its hold. You once told me that Vulcans feel too deeply. So I'd say what you felt was about right. An emotion—a strong emotion like love—is liable to floor an average man on a good day. You got hit by a shuttle-load! It's okay," Leonard says with a rueful smile, "you're no more confused than I would be if I were in your shoes."

He blinks. "I appreciate your honesty."

Leonard reaches over the desk and pats his forearm. "If you need help finding closure about her—about anything that happened down there—I want you to tell me, a'right? This ship's counseling department may be slim pickings but there is help available. No one will think unkindly of you, for needing a bit of guidance."

The idea does not exactly comfort Spock. He says instead, to appease them both, "Should I need to reflect further on the matter, I will seek your advice, Doctor McCoy."

Leonard's mouth curves at the corners. "Works for me. I'll see you later, then?"

"Affirmative."

The doctor stands up, bright blue eyes still fixed firmly on the Vulcan's face. "Don't forget your promise."

Spock replies, "I shall not."

~~~

Leonard wakes to the feel of a wet cloth on his face. He makes a noise of protest, and barely opens one eye. Thank God the room is dark.

Jim is sitting at his bedside, holding a washcloth in his hand and looking sheepish.

McCoy mumbles, "Why'd you stop?"

"You're awake."

"So? Last time I got a free sponge bath—" His brain finally wakes up. "Jim?"

The grinning man leans over into view so that McCoy doesn't have to twist his head in order to look at him. "I believe you were telling me about a sponge bath, Bones."

Damn his runaway mouth! "Never mind that."

Jim gets an expression which means fine, I won't mention it... for a while.

Leonard's groan is heartfelt. Jim, bless his heart, thinks the sound indicates that McCoy needs some more pain medication. The drowsy man waves the pill away. "Don't need it. I'm doing fine. And since when are you one of my nurses?"

Jim talks as he sets the glass of water back on the nightstand and drops the pill back into its bottle. "Since you demanded to be released from Sickbay. Someone had to vouch for your care, Bones. Or don't you remember that part?"

He does. And he remembers being secretly pleased that Jim had volunteered and placated Christine on Leonard's behalf.

His body is nice and comfortable where it is, feels heavy. "Is it time to get up?"

"No," says Kirk from somewhere else in the room, his voice floating back to McCoy. "It's time to go back to sleep."

"Mmhm," agrees Leonard lazily. He opens his eyes (not realizing they had closed) when a weight settles on his bed. "Jim, what in blazes are you doin'?"

"Making myself comfortable," says James Kirk as he punches an extra pillow into submission.

"But—but..." Leonard trails off, now wide awake. Sure enough, Jim has stretched out alongside him and appears to be quite satisfied with his current position. Leonard's protest is instantaneous. "I'm too old to be sharing a bed."

"I'm too old to be sleeping on the floor," replies the other man, who then yawns and mutters, "Go to bed, Bones."

"Jim. Jim!" No amount of prodding will move a stubborn ass like James Tiberius Kirk. Leonard drops his head back onto his pillow with a loud, annoyed gust of air. "Why can't I win?"

A hand slides into his, fingers interlocking. "You've already won" is the quiet whisper next to him.

He bites his lip, closing his eyes, and squeezes that warm hand, strokes the side of it with his thumb. "What about Spock?"

Silence. Then, "He'll find his way."

Leonard can't help but think, as his tired mind betrays him and drifts back into sweet oblivion, Will that way be to us, Jim?

Once McCoy is asleep again, Jim answers the softly murmured question. "I don't know."

~~~

before...

 

"Did you tell him he was supposed to be here?" McCoy asks his question and then takes a moment to glare pointedly at a staring child about the age of ten. She pops her gum in response and keeps staring. "I want to get off."

"No you don't," Jim says mildly next to him. "And yes, I told Spock. He'll be here."

"In the next five seconds?"

"Bones, will you stop complaining?"

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"

A female voice behind them whispers loudly, Aw, a lover's spat. Isn't that sweet, honey?

McCoy would turn around to glare at her too, like the little girl, but he's stuck and he can't twist around and "Damn it, Jim, you can't be two and thirty-five at the same time! Make up your mind!"

Jim is ignoring him and craning around to look through the crowds. McCoy spies the attendant approaching their car and he is about to holler until the young man lifts the stupid bar and let's him go home—or sulk with a large bag of boiled peanuts next to the ferris wheel—when Jim cries out, "Spock! Over here!"

Leonard slumps, defeated.

"Greetings," says the Vulcan, who eyes the two humans crammed into the small car of the ride.

"Get in." Jim pats the empty spot left.

Apparently Spock doesn't need to be told twice. The bar lifts, and Spock sits down before Leonard can bolt while he is freed from entrapment—except Jim knows what he is thinking and has tossed an arm around the doctor's shoulders to keep him not so subtly in place.

Jim is telling Spock, "You'll love this. It's called a haunted house and—"

Leonard is never listening to Jim again. Never never never.

A voice rumbles overheard. "Welcome to the Spookiest House in Iowa, ladies and gentleman! Please keep all limbs inside the designated area...."

McCoy will admit later on that he did have fun—because watching a Vulcan say "That is illogical" at every killer clown and dancing skeleton (the young girl in the car ahead of them screams shrilly, as if in defiance of Spock's opinions) is rather more memorable than he expected. Jim will simply grin in triumph and say, "Told you, Bones."

Chapter Text

She waits for her son to answer, already knowing what has transpired—and also knowing that there is still a chance to fix it. “Spock?” Amanda calls softly, resisting for the umpteenth time to touch the screen. He is far across the galaxy; and while her heart can pretend otherwise, her mind does not give her that luxury.

“I do not understand,” her son tells her with equal softness.

Amanda has to curl her fingers, making a loose fist on the table at which she is seated. Anger spurts through her again—a mother's rage and a woman's displeasure, well-blended.

How dare T'Pau!

After all these years, Amanda had hoped the matriarch of the House of Surak realized that she has no more control over how Spock lives today than she did over the lives of Sarek and Amanda. Amanda should have known better, but she thought T'Pau's interference had died away with the breaking of the bond between Spock and T'Pring.

Of course her child doesn't understand. Someone like T'Pau keeps a mask firmly in place to fool the eye; the elder Vulcan has little love for "outsiders"—the same sentiment T'Pau expressed over fifty years ago that, in all likelihood, will never change.

"I'm sorry, Spock. This is all my fault! I did not insist on receiving your last communication in private, when I should have." She had been too worried that Spock called in the first place to think properly; she had forgotten that T'Pau keeps loyal eyes and ears in the Sarek household.

"Mother," Amanda is told gravely, "it would be illogical to accept an apology which is made in error. You have not committed any harmful act against my person."

"I haven't protected you as a mother should!" she insists, realizing belatedly that her voice has risen in pitch. Amanda calms herself and tries to explain. "Listen to me, darling, T'Pau may be wise in many things but love is not one of them. No one, no one, should define how you choose to love except you, Spock." Not sure that she can reach any other way, she puts a bit of "scolding parent" into her voice. "I will be disappointed if you let T'Pau keep you from happiness."

"Her logic was sound."

The flat of her hand smacks the top of the table. "Love is not logical!"

With a small gasp, Amanda covers her mouth as if she can trap the remnants of her outburst. Spock looks at her with interest.

Dropping her hand and blushing, she clears her throat. "When your father proposed to me, he quoted much the same thing: marriage between us would be logical. I told him that under no circumstances would I marry for any reason but love; if his wits were that logic-addled, then he was a fool to pursue a human, let alone me."

Her son murmurs "Fascinating" but otherwise does not interrupt.

"I was not the Embassy's choice for Sarek, you understand. We barely knew each other, yet your father approached me with his proposition. I was flattered but I was also furious. After I turned him down, we did not see each other for several months. I expected that he had forgotten about me, married a more suitable woman."

"He did not," Spock remarks with a hint of a hopeful question that no one but his mother would detect.

Amanda smiles. "Sarek appreciates a challenge—a trait of his that you inherited." Her eyes twinkle. "So yes, he did not forget me. In fact, I was rather shocked to find a Vulcan on the doorstep of my parents' house. We were celebrating my parents' 45th wedding anniversary, and it would have been rude not to invite him in. From there... well, he promised in his own roundabout way that he did not seek a marriage solely for convenience and, in return, I promised your father that I would give him a chance to prove it."

Leaning forward, she levels Spock with a mother's stare. "Your father and I are together because we love each other. I want no less for you. If you love these men and they love you, then you should take the chance. Our lives are brief in this universe, Spock. Should we never risk ourselves for love, when the opportunity is already finite? If the answer was no, then Sarek and I would be worlds apart and distant memories for one another."

Unfortunately, time rarely seems to be on Amanda's side. Spock turns his head at the sound of a faint beep, his face settling into professionalism. She is informed, "I must return to the Bridge."

She sighs. "You must go then. Take care, my love. Please do not dismiss what I have said."

He lifts his hand in parting, says, "Live long and prosper." After a moment's pause he promises, "I shall consider your words."

"Thank you."

As Amanda watches the screen go blank, she worries her lower lip between her teeth. She cannot tell Spock that T'Pau is wrong to bring up the concerns—and danger—of bonding with two humans with little psi ability; but Amanda firmly believes that Spock has more to gain than lose. She also knows he is stubborn, like his father. If Amanda wants to fight this battle on his behalf, which is nearly impossible at such a distance, then she must reconsider her tactics.

That decided, the woman reaches for the communication unit again. She spends the next hour recording a plea/demand/"don't be idiots" message and then forwards it onto the Enterprise, recipients marked Captain James T. Kirk and Doctor Leonard H. McCoy.

~~~

before...

 

Sarek and Amanda do not receive T'Pau's missive until two weeks after the fact; it merely states that the bond between Spock and T'Pring is annulled by Spock's own doing. They do not learn of the details until much later, by speaking with the council on Vulcan, that Kirk acted as T'Pring's champion and failed.

Failure during kal-if-fee is synonymous with death.

So it is with no small amount of horror and fear that Amanda contacts her son. Sarek, who has not spoken to his son in years, does not join her; he says the knowledge that Spock is not dead suffices.

Well, not for her.

Spock, after listening to his mother's breathless plea of "Is all well, Spock? Please, you must tell me!" informs her calmly that "Captain Kirk is alive."

To say she is relieved is an understatement. "How?"

Her son explains the particulars in such a detached voice that once he is finished, she asks him bluntly, "Have you spoken with anyone of this, Spock?"

His flat reply is "I would not discuss the intimacy of my personal—"

She interrupts. "You misunderstand. I want you to talk to someone, a councilor on the ship or... or that Doctor McCoy you mentioned." Her request surprises him. "You care for your Captain, Spock; you cannot deny it to me. To... be forced into a position where you almost—" She cannot voice kill him, does not like to think of the likely ending had that doctor not found a way to save both her son and James Kirk. "Even logic dictates that for such an action, there is always a reaction. I cannot help but fear for you," she says gently. "Have you discussed what happened with Captain Kirk?"

"The Captain emphasizes that he is simply 'glad everyone made it out intact,' as he described the sentiment."

Of course. If James Kirk is an honorable man, he won't want to hurt Spock further; and in her experience, men are more apt to say we don't need to talk about this despite that the opposite may be true.

She lets her expression tell her son that she won't pursue the subject but that she is unhappy with how he is handling it. Instead Amanda comments, "I won't ask how you feel about T'Pring's betrayal, Spock, but ease my mind. Did you meet with a Vulcan healer after kal-if-fee?"

"Affirmative. My condition has passed, and the bond was successfully dissolved."

She doubts that he feels its loss. Spock has never shown much interest in T'Pring, not during brief meetings in his youth or a child's curiosity; years ago, the fact that he chose to leave behind a career at the Vulcan Science Academy for Starfleet indicated that he felt no ties to Vulcan which were worth staying for.

It is obvious to a mother when her child is too distracted to have a decent conversation—or going to be stubborn about conversing at all. They end their communication shortly thereafter. She consoles herself that one of Sarek's delegation parties has been scheduled for escort by the Enterprise; she plans to insist on attending. Then Amanda will have the chance to confirm her son's well-being for herself.

It occurs to her two days later that the only way Kirk and McCoy could have attended the ceremony was by Spock's invitation. That, in the end, becomes subject to a lengthy and thoughtful consideration. By the time the Babel Conference begins, she is as anxious to meet Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy as she is to see Spock.

~~~

Leonard's first response is to laugh; his second response is to pour a large glass of brandy.

Amanda Grayson's message rolls to its thunderous conclusion: "...So if you two are the brave, intelligent men I thought you were, you will drag my son by his pointed ear from whatever laboratory he's hiding in and explain to him that bonding is wonderful and possible and that you have no problems with loving him at all!"

Leonard suspects that Spock's mother will not give them the chance to think or do otherwise. She must have a family branch or two of ancestors in the Old South because she can throw a tantrum as good as the women in his family. All this flame-eyed mother lacks is a nice Southern twang.

He downs the rest of the liquor and cuts the communication.

Amanda knows. Does Sarek?

Who is it, then, that prompted Spock to back off?

McCoy sighs into the open air of his bedroom. The truth of the matter is that Spock wouldn't have started back-peddling if he was firm in what he wanted. Perhaps the Vulcan has decided that the repercussions of loving someone with only half his life span is not worth the pain; perhaps he thought he loved Jim and Leonard but mistook feelings of friendship for something more. Spock isn't exactly experienced in love and its nuances.

Leonard just does not know.

According to Amanda, it is his responsibility to find out.

Not like I haven't tried. Spock is the epitome of fortified emotion-repellent walls and impenetrable silence. Before the attack and Leonard had to focus elsewhere, he had tried no less than a dozen times to get Spock to talk to him. Granted, the first handful of times were born of anger and hurt, of I can't believe you dragged me into this confrontation and then abandoned me!; Leonard cannot blame Spock for not responding to those attempts.

But the others...

He tried approaching Spock as a concerned friend; he tried to be clinical. Hell, he even pleaded—which only ended up with McCoy being mad at himself.

Jim has his own ways, would have either opted for an adrenaline-driven chat with the Vulcan during a spar in a gravity chamber or cornered Spock in some corridor and used that disarming Kirkian frankness.

Apparently neither Kirk nor McCoy are a match for a Vulcan named Spock.

Leonard wants things to be easy. He wants to assuage Amanda's worries about her son, and his own worries, too. But he simply finds that he is incapable of it—alone.

Jim seems to be waiting for Spock to make the next move. But how long do they really have to play a waiting game? That is not something Leonard wants to do the rest of his life, even if he has Kirk while he waits.

He quits drumming his fingers on the table and flips on a speaker. "Doctor McCoy to Captain Kirk."

Several seconds pass. "Kirk here. What is it, Bones?"

"Check your messages."

"... What else?"

He smiles, hearing the befuddlement in Jim's voice. Clearly the man does not realize that Leonard is the type to call his significant other at work just to say I love you.

"That'd be it," he drawls. "Oh and, Jim? Once you've done that, let me know when you want to discuss the next step in our plan. McCoy out."

He rises to his feet, wincing at the cracking of his knees, and decides to shower. Jim will listen to Amanda's heartfelt words and draw the same conclusions that McCoy has. The woman advises that they work together to break through that Vulcan stubbornness.

And now that he and Jim are together, of a same mind about Spock, perhaps they can.

~~~

before...

 

"What do you mean you can't fix it? You're the Chief Engineer!"

Said-Chief Engineer rolls his eyes at the irate CMO. "I told ye, I'll be needin' to take the whole panel out, Doctor. I dinnae say I cannae fix it, I said I cannae fix it today. We're installing a new—"

The Scotsman's eyes are beginning to gleam with an unnatural light. ...And McCoy doesn't have time to listen to a confusing lecture about parts and gizmos and whatchamacallit's. He's a doctor, for crying out loud, and on a very tight schedule.

This apple cobbler isn't going to make itself.

Well, okay. So maybe it can make itself (you know, particles and all) inside a replicator. But those cobblers just don't taste right and this cobbler is for a special dinner. Besides, his grandmother would roll over in her grave if she knew he was taking replicated food to a party.

In the span of the five seconds it had taken to contemplate the origins of the to-be-made cobbler, Scotty has begun to babble about wiring and things that went kaboom. The doctor feels no shame in interrupting. "So send a tech down here." A few solid raps of the spoon against the mixing bowl and the dough is subsiding to his will.

Scotty makes a face. "We could try and fit ye in..."

He sputters. "Since when do I have to schedule an appointment to fix a kitchen timer!"

"...and protocol says..."

"Protocol?! Damn it, Scotty, you don't have time? I have two surgeries in a couple of hours! After that it will be too late and—"

Neither of them, the two stubborn officers, are willing to back down. It escapes both McCoy and Mr. Scott that they are surely wasting their precious minutes by arguing. It is the loud call of "Engineering to Mr. Scott" that draws them to a cease-fire. The Chief Engineer is needed elsewhere and McCoy hasn't finished chopping the apples. Leonard waves the man away with one hand.

Scotty pauses by the door to ship's kitchens to say with a hint of disappointment, "I'll be goin' then. Why don't ye just ask the computer to keep the time?"

The man means the ship's computer, of course, but Leonard turns around with a growing grin. "Why, you're an absolute genius, Mr. Scott!"

"Aye," agrees the man on his way out.

"Computer, locate Spock."

It beeps, burbles and tells Leonard where Spock is. His flour-covered thumb leaves a streak on the comm unit button. "Doctor McCoy to Spock."

"Spock here."

"Get your green-blooded hobgoblin self over here, Mr. Spock! I've got an emergency."

Spock's serene reply indicates how "urgent" he believes McCoy's situation to be. "Might I inquire where 'here' is, Doctor McCoy?"

"Kitchen three."

"On my way."

Leonard is happily crumbling the buttery topping over the sweet apple filling when Spock arrives. The Vulcan lifts one eyebrow, surveying the damage of baking productivity and slew of used pots and pans.

He fills Spock in before the First Officer can even ask. "I'm making a cobbler for that guest dinner Jim's holdin'. Now, the wonderful thing about Vulcans..."

Spock's eyebrow climbs to a new height.

"...is that y'all are like personal alarm clocks, and this kitchen's timer is broken." He closes the tall oven door, squints at the dials and buttons before choosing a bake setting, and then faces Spock. With a quick double bounce on the balls of his feet, McCoy says too cheerfully, "It's gotta stay in there for 45 minutes. Tell me when time's up, Spock."

"Doctor, I was completing a series of reports—"

"You always doing reports. And I bet you do them a week early, too."

"Precisely, ten point five days."

"Right. So you can spare a minute or two to help me out."

Spock stares at Leonard. Leonard stares back.

The doctor slides into a chair and folds his hands on the kitchen counter. Spock, perhaps realizing he has little choice in the matter, sits opposite of McCoy.

They contemplate each other's silent countenance for another stretch of minutes.

McCoy finally asks, "Are you coming to the dinner?"

"Jim has requested my presence."

"That's good." A few seconds of silence. "Who's the guest again?"

Spock names some admiral that Leonard has never met.

"Oh." He muses aloud, "I wonder if he'll appreciate a fine apple cobbler. It was my Granny McCoy's recipe, you know."

"Jim enjoys apples."

Leonard smiles. "He does. It's about the only fruit on his diet regime that meets its regular quota."

And suddenly the conversation is a lot easier once they can turn the subject to Jim. When Spock announces that forty-five minutes have passed, Leonard glances briefly inside the oven and declares that the cobbler could use another five minutes or so to brown on top.

Spock has no objection.

Chapter Text

There are times when Jim wishes he could rise from his Captain's chair and cry "CUT!" like the Bridge is a set in an old-fashioned film. And yes, Bones, he wants to say, his knowledge is mostly comprised of random historical facts, because Jim loves to read and know and generally own every obscure book he can find planet-side—a habit sadly waylaid by living in space. But that is not his point, not at all.

James Kirk's real point is that, here, once the action begins it never stops.

"Incoming!" cries Chekov, rattling off coordinates along the port side of the ship.

The Captain tells Sulu to take them down at an angled rotation. The ship shudders with the force of the hit but the shields hold, and the blow isn't as bad as it could have been.

"Uhura!" he snaps without meaning to (something he will think on later and apologize to her for). "I need an open line to that ship!"

"Sir..." she begins to respond.

The Enterprise has precise little time for can't. "Keep trying," he grits out. Spock has already grabbed his attention. Jim listens for a moment, then orders, "I need its weak points, Mr. Spock. Anywhere that can give us the advantage." Or buy time.

It will be pointless to try and outrun this battle cruiser again, not unless Jim packs the three intruders into a shuttle and launches them into the black of space. He has thought about it, if only for grim amusement in passing, but it simply is not smart to let them go that way. Their other option, a nearby inhabitable planet as a drop-off point, will take two week's travel at warp factor six, according to the charted maps.

And if Jim admits a bit of truth to himself: he doesn't want to tuck tail and run away. He wants to fight these bastards, whoever they are, and leave them with no uncertain doubt that the Enterprise (and Starfleet) are not for easy pickings for anti-Federation terrorists.

They've been locked in this battle for over thirty minutes, neither side ceasing to move, to attack and respond to attack. Again, that unknown vessel popped out of nowhere, despite that JIm has been expecting their arrival for a week, his crew on edge too with the same expectation. Jim now wonders what sort of cloaking device they could possibly have, or sensor-suppressing shields, if not for sight—any myriad of technology that Starfleet has not likely seen before.

"Pull back!" he commands.

The Enterprise retreats to a safer distance, as if taking a time out to breathe and reorient itself. The other ship follows lazily. Kirk leans forward in his chair, hands white-knuckled on its arms as he narrows his eyes and watches the screen. What is it about that ship that niggles at him? What is he missing?

Jim barely catches the soft whoosh of the lift doors, so intent is he on figuring out the enemy and their next move.

A hand lands on his shoulder. "Jim."

He automatically relaxes back into his chair. "Bones." Turning his head to look at McCoy, he asks, "How's Medical holding up?"

"We're a'right, Captain. Whatever y'all are doing up here, it's keeping the ship intact a whole lot better than last time."

It does not escape Jim's notice how Bones glances at Spock's station more than once as he talks. Spock, Jim knows, will have his back to them both. The Captain returns to staring at the Bridge screen.

The enemy is lingering just on the outer edge of their firing range.

"What's the matter with them?"

Bones' question startles him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the doctor says, brows drawn together, "they're in the middle of a space battle and they're moving at a snail's pace."

His mouth opens on instinct, once, before he closes it and his body jumps forward, back perfectly straight. "That's it, Bones!"

McCoy blinks at him, then slowly grins. "What did I say, Jim? Did I solve the mystery?" Then, with a twinkle in his eyes, "Do I get a prize?"

Jim laughs for the first time since he stepped onto the Bridge, torn away from finishing Amanda Grayson's strongly worded message in the privacy of the Ready Room, to issue a red alert for all stations.

"Spock," he calls over his shoulder, "how fast are they moving?"

The Vulcan reads out a speed and projected time of impact, should the Enterprise remain in place and the enemy continue to approach at that speed.

Too slow.

"Correlate the sets of their coordinates for the last twenty minutes with the vessel's speed, Mr. Spock, and estimate their capacity for movement."

Spock works silently on the task, fingers flying across his console.

"Jim?"

"Bones," he tells his CMO in serious voice, "we may have been fools not to install a second chair up here for you."

Matching his tone, McCoy replies, "While I'm flattered, I think this old country doctor will stick to what he knows best and leave the captainin' to you."

They smile at each other. Spock, now standing on Jim's right, interrupts with "Captain," meant to gently draw Jim back to the situation at hand. Spock hands him a PADD.

He scrolls through the data, nodding once or twice. The vessel is not playing a game of cat and mouse, because it literally does not have the capacity to do so; its range of speed is equivalent to a freighter loaded down with cargo. The Enterprise, given her build and warp-core engines, could literally dance circles around it. Which, Jim realizes, is pretty much what his ship has been doing.

"So they weren't waiting," he muses, "for our guard to drop—it took them this long to catch up to us!"

"The explanation seems logical, Captain. I have also re-evaluated the sensors' energy readings with regards to the new data. Conclusively, the vessel's speed is compromised by the amount of energy necessary to power systems deemed more essential to their method of attack."

"The heavy shielding."

Doctor McCoy looks between him and Spock. "So you're saying they have to sacrifice their ability to move in order to tangle with anybody? Their engineers must be dumb as bricks. No wonder they want this ship!"

Jim agrees. "All the more reason why we aren't going to let them take it." He taps a finger against his lips in thought. "If we had the manpower, it would be easy enough to surround them and knock out their shields." Like a group of small predators working together to take down one large, bumbling prey.

Then an idea strikes him hard, causing Captain Kirk to rise hastily from his chair. "Sulu, you know how to play chicken?"

The pilot's mouth stretches in a grin. "Yes, Sir!"

"You have the conn, then." Jim is already moving towards the turbolift. He continues to say, "Chekov, coordinate with Sulu and strike their shields often enough to keep up the appearance that we are still on the defense. Don't use more power than necessary."

Chekov nods, turning to Sulu to devise a plan.

"Jim!" McCoy slides in next to him, Spock on both their heels. "How about sharin' your master plan with the rest of the class?"

"It's simple, Bones. We call in the army."

McCoy looks at Spock and something unspoken passes between the two officers. Spock tells Kirk cautiously, "Captain, the Enterprise is the only constitution-class starship scheduled to explore this sector of space for the next forty-two days. I estimate that response to a distress call—"

"Yes, Mr. Spock, we are the only ones out here." He steps from the lift, as its door open at his intended destination. "But they don't know that!"

Spock and McCoy are full of questions as they follow him through Security and to the brig, and Jim obliges them with all the answers that he has.

~~~

before...

 

"Name one time, Spock, one time where a plan of mine has failed." Kirk is rummaging through a drawer of shirts as he says this, quite carelessly.

Spock begins to talk and Jim is too busy frowning at a green wrap-around top with a ripped shoulder seam. Why is this still in here? Surely the laundering—

"Jim."

"Spock?" He looks up to find what must be the subtlest long-suffering face in the galaxy.

"Jim, I have recounted four plans which resulted in disturbing consequences. Would you like me to continue?"

He blinks.

"There are a total of twenty-six instances," Jim is informed graciously.

His smile is lopsided and slightly foolish. "No need to continue, Spock. Point taken. But this plan will work."

"I cannot attest to its likelihood of success until you furnish details, Captain."

Jim decides to grab a regular gold command tunic and tugs it over his head. "Bones needs something to take his mind off of his woes today. So you and I are going to have a, um, how do I say this? Skirmish."

The Vulcan tilts his head and observes Kirk silently for some seconds, no doubt looking for a prominent indication of Jim's insanity. Finally he says, "Explain Doctor McCoy's 'woes.'"

"It's Joanna's—you know about his daughter?" Spock nods. "—birthday and, well, the ion storm has knocked out all incoming and outgoing transmissions..."

Apparently Jim doesn't need to explain beyond that point. Spock says softly, "I understand."

There is an awkward pause in which Jim fidgets with the boot in his hand and Spock stands like a looming statue in the entrance to his bedroom, neither inside or outside but precisely on the line in-between.

Jim eventually has both boots on his feet and nothing else to keep him busy. So he straightens to his full height (he still feels short compared to Spock, probably always will) and turns to his Vulcan friend. "Ready?"

"To skirmish, Captain?"

He grins. It's an outright lie that Vulcans are incapable of having a sense of humor. "Let's find Bones first."

Spock follows him from his quarters. "Would it not add credibility if we enacted this plan in a randomly selected location on the ship?"

"No," answers Kirk, "because then someone else will become involved first and Bones will hear about it after the fact and that will just make him yell at both of us an extended number of days." A possibly end up with them undergoing full psychological examinations.

Spock supplies dutifully, "There is an eighty-six point two percentage probability in favor of the doctor's overreaction."

Jim is well-aware of Bones-statistics. "We want him there, and hopefully just him—" How embarrassing would it be to have a large audience? "—so that Bones can focus on something besides how miserable he feels because he can't talk to Joanna. He helps us, we help him... It's cathartic for everyone!"

Spock's only response, as the turbolift doors close on the pair, is "Fascinating."

Jim suspects the Vulcan is already mentally cataloging a new section of Things Humans Do Which Require Further Investigation. That doesn't matter, though, because both Jim and Spock know what is truly important right now: their mutual friend named Leonard Horatio McCoy.

~~~

Leonard shakes his head as they stand in the long hallway of one particular set of holding cells. "Jim, are you sure about this?"

Jim looks at McCoy for a long moment. Kirk's answer, when it comes, sounds firm. "Yes."

The doctor's shoulders slump in relief; he has no choice, then, but to be as committed to Jim as Jim is to his faith that the plan will work. Spock, who stands between them, only remarks, "I will proceed to the transporter room and prepare."

At Kirk's brief nod, the First Officer walks to the exit. They are surprised when Spock pauses. Leonard shifts on his feet, as the Vulcan's unreadable gaze falls upon McCoy. "You should return to Sickbay, Doctor."

He bristles. "Is that a suggestion or a demand, Spock?"

"It is neither," he is told. "Merely a concern for your safety."

Then Spock is gone.

Jim meets Leonard's eyes. The doctor finds it necessary to warn the man. "Don't even think it, Jim."

But he can see that Jim already has, perhaps at the same moment as Spock. This time it is Jim's turn to ask, "Are you sure, Bones?"

"Yeah, I am."

McCoy stays still as Jim reaches out, runs a hand down Leonard's arm, only letting fingertips linger on the inside of his wrist before dropping that hand away. It is Captain Kirk, steeling his countenance, who says, "You first, Doctor."

Leonard only spares a moment to pluck a emergency medi-kit from a wall panel on his way.

The three devils are, it appears, surprised to meet Leonard face-to-face. He quirks his mouth at them and disarms the force field of the cell with deliberate slowness. They don't step up to meet him when he enters the brig cell; in fact, they back away like he is dangerous.

Last time Leonard checked in the mirror, he didn't look like a wild man. Maybe it is his audacity to confront them which they find unsettling. Nevertheless, McCoy is not a man to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"How are y'all doing?" he drawls almost languidly. With a thump, the medi-kit is dropped from his hand onto a long, low bench. Making a show of locating and presenting a hypospray, he remarks, "We're not inhospitable folks. You've been treated well, I'm sure."

The biggest one's eyes dart behind McCoy, seeking the trap. "What you do?" it demands shortly.

Such pitiful Standard.

Flicking the needle of the hypospray, his smile is wide and innocent. "Someone says y'all are jumpy. I'm a doctor, remember? I'm gonna smooth you out."

"No!" is half-snorted like a bull. "Stay there!"

He lowers his brows. "Now listen here. I don't have time to play around with you. Four of our ships are sailing in and I need to meet with the other CMOs."

One of the pair behind the leader repeats dumbly, "More ships?"

Leonard makes an exasperated sound, stalks forward and they back up to the wall, eyeing him. "What'd you think I said? Yes, more ships. You've gone and pissed off Kirk, who contacted other captains and now they're pissed off and I and a bunch of very beleaguered individuals will have to dispose of all your ship buddies' corpses once the blasting's done. Now, YOU," the doctor says in a no-nonsense tone to the leader, "come over here and stand still for this shot!"

It turns to its companions, saying something guttural and emphatic. Leonard recognizes the lines of tension, the intent, in its body language because he is expecting it. When the leader charges at him, McCoy dives to the side and flattens himself against the wall with a sharp warning cry of "Jim!"

The three idiots barrel out of the brig cell and straight into the open hall, not even seeing (Jim will tell him this later) Kirk and the Security officers around the corner behind them. The escapees simply break into freedom and not a moment after fall prey to heavy phaser stuns. McCoy hears the impact of bodies hitting the floor, waits a heartbeat, and pokes his head outside of the large cell.

"You get 'em?" he calls. Then the answer seems less important as he spies Jim ahead and hurries to meet him.

"Bones!"

McCoy would bet good money that Kirk's expression of relief is identical to his own. "Did you get them?" he repeats.

Jim is bright-eyed and sharply smug. "Oh yes."

Leonard comes to stand beside Kirk and eyes the three sprawled figures. "How much do you think one of them weighs?"

Jim follows his gaze. "Three, maybe four hundred pounds?"

"Mmm. Good thing you have strong Security officers then, Captain."

Kirk frowns at him. "Why?"

"As your doctor," Leonard clarifies, "I'm ordering you to leave the heavy lifting to younger men, Jim. One pulled back muscle and you'll be out of commission for weeks!"

Jim simply shoots him a look that says I'm not old; the undaunted arch of Leonard's eyebrow replies Who do you think you're foolin'?

Kirk uses the side of his fist to smack the comm unit. "Captain Kirk to Mr. Spock."

"Captain."

"Is the transporter set?"

"Affirmative."

"Good. The cargo is ready to be moved."

"Cargo, Captain?"

Leonard rubs away a rapidly growing smile with the back of his hand as he listens to Spock's inquisitive I don't understand what you just said voice.

Jim replies humorously enough, "Sorry for the code, Spock. I meant the three prisoners."

"Understood. Transporter is prepped and all personnel evacuated from area."

"Excellent! We'll be there momentarily."

Leonard spends the next few minutes reminding grunting officers bent under the unwieldy weight of the unconscious enemy to "Lift with your legs! Damn it, Garris, I told you to stand aside! Your knee injury ain't fully healed—hold still, I put that hypospray somewhere..." It is a chore and a half, but a small army of Starfleet officers, shepherded by Kirk and McCoy managed to relocate three large bull-like beings across the ship. There they dump the troublesome aliens with minutes to spare.

Spock, who stands outside the transporter room, stares without blinking as Kirk and McCoy approach him.

Jim asks, "The safe room?"

"Follow me, Captain, Doctor."

The First Officer leads them across the transporter room and into a small office adjoined to it. Leonard quickly finds a seat, watching as Spock methodically engages all the equipment, seals the door, and effectively locks the three of them into the tiny area.

He crosses his arms. "How cozy."

Jim chuckles as he leans over a computer monitor. "Spock, can you control the settings from in here?"

"Yes." Spock explains that he has already locked onto the enemy's ship as a beaming destination, and they only need wait for the transporter room to be discovered and utilized. "We have sealed sectors fifty-nine through sixty-two. There are limited possibilities for exploration."

"Except the transporter room," McCoy says.

"Correct, Doctor."

Jim claps his hands once, pulls a chair up next to Leonard's and settles in. "Then we wait for them to wake up and find their way here. Great." Kirk looks first at Leonard, then at Spock. "So... I guess no one remembered to bring a game of chess?"

Spock turns back to the softly beeping computers. "I did not."

Leonard shivers unexpectedly and drops his eyes. Stuck in a room with Spock, he thinks. What a perfect time this would be to address a few personal issues... When he raises his eyes again, it is to find Jim staring back at him—and undoubtedly thinking the exact same thing.

They are balanced on a knife's edge now, and not simply because of the danger lurking outside this room, beyond the ship. Leonard swallows down his nervousness and breathes deeply.

Then Spock announces that "Scanners show movement, Captain. The enemy is aware and in pursuit."

Leonard, alongside Jim, looks at three heat signatures in the shape of dark red masses slowly migrating down a corridor on a holomap. Without thinking, his hand searches for Jim's, finds it and hangs on.

"Good luck to us," he cannot help but mutter.

~~~

before...

 

Jim is filing his nails.

Filing his nails.

Leonard is not quite sure why this strikes him as odd, but it does.

Jim's slightly amused reply snaps his attention back to the present. "Why are you being so defensive? There was no implied criticism of you in my decision to remove you from the case."

"That is not the reason I am here. I'm here—" Wondering why I have to spell this out for you, Jim. "—because Doctor Coleman's record states that he's incompetent."

Jim looks up sharply. "That's the opinion of an individual."

"That is the opinion of Starfleet Command. I checked with them and Doctor Coleman was removed from his post by the Chief Medical Officer of his ship for administrative incompetence—"

"There are no administrative duties required here."

"—and well as flagrant medical blunders."

Jim tries to walk away and McCoy simply cannot allow it, by the professional code of honor he tries to uphold and by his genuine concern for what could be ailing his friend. He says slowly but firmly, "I appreciate the fact that you had a decision to make. I also find myself in that position now, Jim. And I'm asking you to report for an examination."

This strikes too close to home; too close to that time, which seems only like yesterday, that he had to face Jim with his heart pounding in his throat and make a similar threat. Kirk had been obsessed then, so much that it was impairing the man's judgment. Back then, it had been enough to arouse Leonard's concern that Jim could consider sacrificing time when Theta VII desperately needed medical supplies.

Now the doctor's attention is drawn by these events surrounding a woman, Janice Lester, and how Kirk blithely hands Dr. Coleman medical authority without a care for protocol or Coleman's history.

Leonard had had Spock by his side during his confrontation with Kirk over the obsession, to stand as witness and supporter—and against Kirk. He remembers that in this moment, as he stands facing Kirk alone; he remembers it later, too, when Spock is caught trying to help Janice Lester escape.

Circumstances worsen. Jim places Spock under arrest on the charge of mutiny. Leonard begins to realize, as he sits at Spock's trial, that the tables have not just been turned, they have been flipped upside down, and solid footing has devolved into tentative steps on cracked ice. He is not sure if the Enterprise crew's morale, the crew as a whole, will recover from this if all goes ill.

Kirk demands Spock's repentance. The Vulcan, however, is more intractable than McCoy has ever seen him. Spock's words strike every man in the trial room like a blow, not just Kirk, who grows more enraged: "No, Sir, I shall not withdraw a single charge that I have made. You are not Captain Kirk. You have ruthlessly appropriated his body but the life entity within you is not that of Captain Kirk, you do not belong in charge of the Enterprise, and I shall do everything in my power against you."

McCoy wants to believe Spock, thinks that if he doesn't believe Spock he might very well make one of the worst mistakes of his life. Yet Starfleet Headquarters will need facts, and the doctor is heavily dismayed by the lack of evidence to support Spock's accusations against the Captain. Only McCoy's gut instinct agrees whole-heartedly with the First Officer and repeats faithfully to Leonard that Kirk is not stable, is not the Jim he knows.

When Scotty approaches him, the grim look on the Chief Engineer's face is a mirror of McCoy's feelings. The Scotsman sums up the situation too well. He tells Leonard, "I've seen the Captain feverish, sick, drunk, delirious, terrified, overjoyed, boiling mad... but up to now, I have never seen him red-faced with hysteria."

Their quiet talk (which leaves a sick knot in Leonard's stomach) results in Captain Kirk calling them both out on mutiny charges alongside Spock; thus all three senior officers are to be summarily executed.

He closes his eyes in that moment, finally knowing the truth and his doubts swept away. The man that Leonard understands better than himself, loves more than himself, would never demand such a heavy, irreversible price. Not in haste, and certainly not out of personal fear.

No, this emotionally frenzied man is not the Enterprise's Captain Kirk. He is not Leonard's Jim.

McCoy does not fight the Security officers who gingerly escort him to the brig. He stands there, staring first at Scotty, then Spock, and finally Janice Lester. She meets his gaze with an emotion that Leonard has seen too often on Jim's face, when they are captured by the enemy: regret that his friends are suffering.

Doctor McCoy gently breaks eye contact with Lester to watch Kirk taunting them from the other side of the cell's force field. He hopes, with all his being, that there is still time to fix a situation which is spiraling so madly out of control.

Chapter Text

Spock senses that Leonard is watching him though he does not turn around to confirm his suspicion. Jim, however, seems focused on the monitors and the task at hand.

An unexplainable anticipation lingers in the back of Spock's mind; it has been too long since he was last in a room with Kirk and McCoy and no other persons or means of interference. Should this plan come to fruition, Spock must either withdraw quickly thereafter or proceed with caution in the company of these men. He knows not why he has that instinct, but it is there nonetheless—a warning he intends to give credence to.

"How far away are they?" asks McCoy.

Spock can answer that question easily enough. "Precisely seventy-five point two meters. I estimate their arrival in a matter of minutes, Doctor.

"Are we certain that they won't realize what we are up to?"

Jim replies first. "Let's hope they assume we are on lockdown because they've escaped from the brig."

McCoy makes a noise of disbelief. "While I'm positive their intelligence level is significantly lower than Spock's, that doesn't mean they aren't paranoid, Jim."

"I know, Bones." Kirk stares at the doctor for a long moment. "Telling us all the ways this plan could go wrong does not help."

Spock glances up in time to see a particular expression on Leonard's face that causes him to immediately straighten. Jim, too, has shifted in his seat, muscles coiled to spring into action. The Captain's one word warning is a sharp "No."

"We don't have time to waste," begins the doctor in a reasonable voice. "I could, maybe, lure them or—"

"No!" Jim reaches out to pin McCoy's left wrist to the chair, as if that can prevent the human from foolishness.

Spock is in perfect agreement with Kirk. "You must remain here."

"It's not illogical to have a backup plan!" Leonard turns his fierce blue eyes on the Vulcan, daring Spock to claim otherwise.

He cannot. "In the event circumstances shift from the goal of this mission, we will alert Security and re-capture the intruders."

The doctor stares at Spock like he can read the Vulcan's mind. "Jim, tell Spock he isn't allowed to play round up with three devils who have twice his strength and are three times as bull-headed. Literally." McCoy flicks his eyes to Jim next. "That goes for you as well."

Jim's mouth thins into a grim line. "I suggest, gentlemen, that we make a deal. No one attempts a heroic feat without the other two for backup. Agreed?"

Leonard says, "Fine." Spock inclines his head in acceptance.

They will be more likely to succeed, Spock decides, with such a contract binding them. But beneath that logical thought lies something more emotional, more human; with it is a memory that reminds Spock exactly how terribly awry matters may become—and how painful.

A hand touches his shoulder lightly enough to capture his attention. Jim looks at Spock, a reflection of that same memory in the Captain's eyes, too.

~~~

before...

 

"Your action is highly unethical. My—" Spock's voice falters only once, as McCoy's sedative takes effect. "—decision stands."

In the end, the decision is taken from both Jim and Spock. Doctor McCoy offers his life to Vians in the officers' stead.

Leonard is dying and Spock is powerless to stop it. He sits close to the human, resisting an inexplicable urge to touch the man for reassurance, despite that his mind presents a sober calculation of the time left until McCoy's lungs fail. To any other eye, Spock is steady; only the Vulcan notes the fine tremors in the hand which holds the medical tricorder.

There is no time to grieve because he cannot afford to lose his formidable control; not until he, Jim, and the empath are safely out of the reach of the Vians and this cruel experiment. Yet he does not begrudge his Captain such a display of grief. Jim's voice cracks with pain as he calls out "Bones." Spock does not interfere when that pain is superseded by anger and despair. Jim is desperate for a way to save McCoy, but Spock knows that any hope at best is tentative.

Leonard opens his eyes once, after a spatter of coughs that prompts Spock to touch him. The Vulcan is partially aware that he has rested a gentle hand on the side of Leonard's face. The doctor is in no state to be lucid but in those dull eyes, Spock sees McCoy's recognition of him. Spock has no words for Leonard, and he discovers that he could not speak if he did have words.

In that moment, his silence becomes his worst regret.

The Vians return and lock Kirk and Spock away from McCoy by a force field. Jim is tense, body strained by the inability to go to the doctor. They watch helplessly as Gem kneels beside McCoy, listening as Leonard, barely conscious, makes a plea. "Jim, Spock, are you here? Don't let her touch me. She'll die. Jim... I can't destroy life even if it's to save my own."

They come close to losing Leonard McCoy; and though the human does not die, Spock is left with a nameless fear for many weeks following the events on Minara II. If, on occasion, Leonard spies the Vulcan lingering in the medical bay without a particular purpose, encounters Spock more frequently than usual throughout the routine of next month, the doctor says nothing of the oddity to the First Officer. He simply lifts a corner of his mouth in greeting, eyes as equally haunted as Spock's.

~~~

Jim and Spock are having some sort of silent communion and Leonard is not invited. This has happened before and will, no doubt, happen again. The Captain and the First Officer are two of a kind, connecting easily in ways that Leonard knows he shares with neither of them. Not for the first time, a thought crosses his mind: How is it that he fits in their pattern?

McCoy stands up simply for movement. Since there is not much space in this small room, he can take three steps and find himself facing the door.

"Bones!"

He turns his head at the sharpness in Jim's tone. "What, Jim?"

Kirk is standing now, too. "Going somewhere?"

Oh. He grins slowly, unable to help himself. "Afraid I'm not a man of my word?"

Jim does not return his smile. "I believe you, Bones, but Spock and I would feel better if you were seated." Jim smiles, then, in a lopsided way. "Please?"

Now Leonard is the one who isn't smiling. "So you speak for Spock too, Jim?" He is looking at Spock as he says this.

"I will not refute Jim's request, Doctor," he is told.

Somehow that infuriates him. He moves away from the door to lean over Spock, who is perfectly still in his seat. "Why is that, Spock?"

Jim grabs Leonard's arm. "Bones, don't. There's no time."

"Will there ever be time? What happens if one of us dies today? If I had died back in Sickbay?"

Jim pales.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes softly, never breaking eye contact with the Vulcan. "It's not that I care more about myself to push like this, Spock; truth is, I care more about you and Jim—" He reaches back without looking, palm up, and a hand slides into his. Spock's gaze breaks away from his and trails over to Leonard's and Jim's joined hands. "—than anyone else on this ship. I want you to know that, in case you don't."

When Spock is still silent, Leonard breathes deeply. "One last thing, Spock."

The Vulcan inclines his head, tacit permission to continue.

It's a gamble but he tosses the remainder of what he has to lose onto the proverbial table. "You hurt us. You should know that, too."

Jim squeezes McCoy hand, a sign of trust.

"Forgive me," Spock responds at last. "It was not my intention to cause pain." His words are both hesitant and sincere.

"If you had the choice, would you change your actions?"

"Yes."

"What would you have done differently?" the doctor pushes.

When Spock does not answer, Jim says simply, "Spock."

The Vulcan rises, clasps his hands behind his back, and stands at attention like a man facing an execution by firing squad. "Were it possible to change my past actions, I would have not have approached you, Captain, or you, Doctor."

He understands, he really does, and that is why Leonard ignores the pain those words cause and moves his free hand to the juncture between the Vulcan's shoulder and neck; he deliberately positions his hand so that it rests on the dividing line of Spock's uniform and skin, touching both. Spock does not tense or change expression. He also does not ask McCoy to remove his hand.

"You could have kept silent, Spock, but the only person you would have hurt in doing so is yourself," Leonard tells him with gentleness. "Asking us because you felt the necessity to ask was right and I swear by all that I am you did not hurt me in asking. Scared me a little, but it turned out to be a good thing. I know that Jim feels the same."

Jim seems attuned to McCoy and takes over with ease. "You may not understand what drove you to approach us but we do. You love us; it is natural to want to know if we respond the same." Kirk holds out the hand not gripping McCoy's to Spock.

Slowly, as though he cannot stop himself, Spock wraps his long fingers around Jim's, accepting the silent invitation. Leonard swallows, watching the two of them.

"Can you feel the truth of my words, Spock?" Jim is asking the Vulcan. "Then believe my sincerity when I tell you that I love you as a friend, I love you as a brother, and I am willing to love you as more, too."

There is one last point to make, and Leonard's fingers dare to brush lightly against Spock's skin as he talks. "To love is to risk, whether you risk your feelings gettin' hurt or you risk your life. What you don't risk is someone else's life, Spock; that is their risk to take, not yours. Jim and I told you once already we have decided to accept your proposal. I hope you know that we do understand the risks involved, for you, and for Jim and myself—" He smiles, phrasing his words as Spock would. "—and we find them acceptable."

They have sweet silence. The ship could be far, far away rather than beneath their feet. For a moment in time, Leonard feels only the strength of Jim's hand in his and Spock's cool skin under his fingertips. Connected as they are is peaceful, a heady sensation of right. Leonard thinks that there is no other place he would rather be in all the galaxy.

A moment in time is exactly as it seems; it cannot last. Their moment in time is broken by a computerized voice stating "Transporter activated."

Spock pulls back to return to the controls, Jim leaning over Spock's shoulder to see the monitors. Leonard, however, faces the door as if he can see through it; on the other side are three would-be hijackers—and a large part of why Leonard and Jim have been able to have this moment alone with Spock.

It is crazy, he muses, how events have conspired to be both a disaster and an opportunity.

Leonard's attention is drawn back to Spock and Jim when the First Officer says, "They are attempting to configure the transporter to return to their ship."

"Perfect," the Captain says. "Let's aid them in their endeavor, Mr. Spock."

"Yes, Captain."

On the monitor, the three brutish beings are arguing, pushing one another toward the transporter, and gesturing at the softly lit platform as if to say not me, you go first. Perhaps none of them are willing to take the chance with strange equipment, despite the transporter is their only option for escape.

Leonard tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. Then he asks, "Can you tell the computer to announce the beaming coordinates—or say something like 'gonna put you on your ship and not dump you in a vacuum of space?'"

Jim shoots the doctor an amused look. "Good idea, Bones."

Spock says, "Yes, it is possible." Then the First Officer flips a few switches and uses voice commands to guide the computer to what they need done.

Leonard listens with satisfaction as the ship's computer relays the destination of the beaming sequence in a loop. The devils have stopped arguing and appear to be listening intently. Like a well-rehearsed play, they file onto the platform and arrange themselves on the appropriate pads.

"Initiating beaming sequence now," Spock says.

The three officers watch as the three of the enemy fade away in halos of light.

Leonard crosses his arms. "Well, that was easy enough."

"Indeed," echoes the First Officer. "Now we must wait for the outcome of our actions."

McCoy shares a quick look with Kirk. And what will come of their heart-to-heart only moments ago?

The lock on the door behind Leonard is released. He steps out of the tiny room with a sigh. Jim follows, stops beside him and leans in to lightly kiss his mouth. "Love you, Bones," Jim says and leaves.

McCoy remains standing in the middle of the transporter room. Once Spock has finished disengaging the lockdown on the near-by sectors of the ship, as well as returned the transporter to its normal functions, Leonard accompanies him to the turbolift. They do not speak as the lift ascends to the Bridge.

They do not speak, that is, until Leonard asks with audacity, clearing his throat first, "Spock, show me how Vulcans position their fingers to share a kiss." He doesn't bother to fight down his blush.

Spock solemnly holds out his hand, fingers appropriately splayed. Leonard studies that hand for a moment before looking at his own hands and remarking wryly, "You will have to coach me." He glances quickly at the number of the deck which the lift is passing by, says "Oh to Hell with it!" and drags the Vulcan's head forward without warning, kissing him with a hard press of their lips.

Leonard eases back to tell Spock, "That's from Jim to me to you." He resumes his position beside Spock with a satisfied smile, knowing the Vulcan would have seen the parting affection between the doctor and the captain in the transporter room. After all, the hobgoblin observes everything.

The turbolift pings and its doors slide open to reveal their final destination. Leonard walks onto the Bridge, finds Jim already seated in his Captain's chair. Captain Kirk turns his head to look at the pair, then calls them both to his side. Spock and McCoy go to him without hesitation.

~~~

before...

 

The air is bitingly cold, and Leonard talks to keep Spock awake until help arrives. The Vulcan has long since given up dignity and is slumped against Leonard's side, head hanging. There are still smears of green blood along his temple, despite the doctor's best effort to wipe most of it away.

Leonard's body is beginning to shake as the cold settles into his bones. "Spock? Spock?" he calls softly. He takes one of Spock's limp hands though he knows it is a personal invasion of epic proportions and helplessly tries to project the remaining vestiges of his hope and hang in there, Spock while he can.

He drops his head back against the rocky wall and closes his eyes. "Do you ever wonder if this is our destiny, Spock?" Leonard hastily corrects himself. "Not dying, I mean. This—us." He chuckles into the quiet dark of the cave. "If anyone had asked me that question when we first met, why I'd have tossed out a hundred different reasons against liking you and ever gettin' along. We clashed something fierce in those first few months, d-didn't we? I'm not... I'm not sure when that changed. Honestly, I think it was Jim. He's wiley, probably had us hoodoo-ed when our backs were turned."

Leonard approves of that thought somehow, even though he knows he shouldn't, and he can barely remember what he was saying...

The man jerks open his eyes, castigating himself. He isn't supposed to fall asleep because Spock has a head injury and Spock needs him.

Damn. He can't feel his toes wiggling in his boots.

Leonard rubs Spock's hand between his own hands without thinking. "A'right, where was I?" He works hard to smile, the muscles in his face stiff from the cold. "You would probably call me f-foolish—ha, illogical—but I figure if somebody has a big cosmic plan 'n we aren't all stumbling around in the dark, then there has to be a good reason for you and me. Sometimes... I can almost see what that good is, that we do together. Jim, Jim—he's the main part of it. You always drag him outta whatever fire he's pitched himself in-into, and me, I patch up him afterward. Maybe that's it, Spock..." His voice trails off, losing strength.

Leonard swallows, feeling hollowed out and a bit fuzzy. He tries to push on, no longer sure if he is talking to comfort Spock or himself, if he is saying these things because he may never have the chance.

His voice is a low croak; whether from weakness or emotion, it is too difficult to tell. "That has to be it. J-Jim. We're both what Jim needs." His fingers tighten reflexively on Spock's hand. "Please don't die. I'm tryin' to tell you that you've got p-purpose, damn it! It's on the Enterprise, gettin' excited over new anomalies and scaring ensigns stiff when they pull stupid pranks... it's with me, Spock—with me and Jim 'n everybody who t-thinks there's something special about you."

The tears falling out of his eyes are warm against his cheeks. "Damn you, you stupid hobgobin," he moans. "I wish you'd never come a-after me. I-I hate ice planets," 'n I want to let go but I can't I can't where's Jim? why isn't he savin' you? for God's sake don't you dare die on me, Spock—

One of the search parties finds them, Spock unconscious but alive, McCoy only aware enough to say the Vulcan's name and whisper "I told him not to die, Jim. I told him not to." It takes a soft, coaxing voice to convince Leonard to release Spock's hand. The voice (familiar, so familiar to Leonard but he is tired and "Where's Jim?") says, "I'm here. It will be okay, Bones. I promise" and Leonard nods though he isn't sure if his head moves at all.

Doesn't matter. Jim is here. Jim is here and Leonard told Spock not to die.

Chapter Text

Time always presses on. The now of the story becomes the before, most of which will be forgotten; some of those moments linger like well-taught lessons, shaping what comes after.

The after for Kirk, Spock, and McCoy is thus: when Jim thumps his fist in triumph on a chair arm as the vessel attacking his ship ceases fire and sends a communication to say we retreat; when Leonard grins happily at Spock with the words "We did it!"; when Spock lifts his bowed head in the den of the Bridge crew's cheering to ask Kirk and McCoy, "Is it not proper to hold a celebratory gathering?"

Jim pauses in his proud survey of his elated crew and faces his First Officer. "What do you have in mind, Mr. Spock?" are his careful words. Leonard is watching the Vulcan as closely as Jim is.

"I shall host an evening meal in my quarters. I would be pleased if you and Leonard attend."

"What, exactly, are we celebrating?" McCoy wants to know.

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps I was remiss in claiming the activity would focus solely on celebration, Doctor. You have also requested 'coaching,' which I am willing to provide... in private."

Jim looks confused, and Leonard is flushed. "Jim," the doctor manages to say, "this is one invitation we ought to accept."

Jim Kirk, the smart man that he is, doesn't need to be told twice.

Later in Spock's quarters, feeling more relaxed and hopeful than he has in weeks, Jim looks from Spock to McCoy and then thinks for a long moment. Leonard is pressed next to him, Jim's arm casually draped over the man's shoulders, his hand stroking the doctor's upper arm. "So... which one of us," he asks slowly, "is going to comm Spock's mother with the good news?"

Both of the Vulcan's eyebrows lift toward his hairline.

Leonard cuts smoothly through Spock's attempts to figure out why Jim seems to think Spock's mother is interested in their relationship. "We'll do it together. Any other decision would result in Amanda charging out here to smack some sense into our thick heads." He says to his other companion, "She's one scary woman, Spock."

Spock's answer would be demure if he were completely human. "My mother is dedicated to my well-being."

Leonard laughs into his glass of brandy.

Jim's other hand is playing with Spock's fingers in a way that makes the tips of the Vulcan's ears turn dark green. "So are we, Spock. So are we."

 

 

-Fini