Work Text:
Leonard could still hear the squeals of the doomed shuttle, the ear-splitting screech of metal-on-metal as the craft tore itself apart with him still inside.Even though the remains of the shuttle had come to rest in the middle of a forest almost fifteen minutes ago, his ears were still ringing almost painfully, and the sound wasn’t drowned out by Jim’s frantic voice over the comm.
“How bad is it?” he demanded. When Leonard said nothing, he snapped, “Damn it, Bones, answer me!”
“It’s a scrape,” Leonard said. His voice was hoarse from all the smoke he had inhaled as the shuttle went down. He coughed, once, and said, “Stop your motherin’, Jim. I’m fine.”
“Don’t.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Leonard grunted anyway. Jim’s huff of laughter was bitter.
“I know you better than that. You forget, I can tell when you’re lying.”
“I’m a doctor. I don’t lie.” Not unless it was blatantly, obviously through his teeth. Leonard ripped off another strip of cloth from his uniform top and wrapped it around his leg, doing his best to tie a tourniquet even as his strength was failing him. It was a futile attempt to stop the bleeding, but maybe it would buy him some time. Time to say the words he had never been able to force past his throat; the words that Jim needed to hear.
But what would it matter, in the end? He was still going to die. He was going to hurt Jim, no matter what he did or said.
“The rescue teams will be to your position in an hour.”
It was too long, but Leonard said, “Perfect, darlin’. Thank you. ‘Fraid the shuttle’s a goner, though.”
“We’ll get a new one,” Jim said. His voice was thick. “Shuttles can be replaced.”
Leonard leaned back against what remained of one of the walls. He didn’t dare close his eyes, even as exhaustion begged him to. Just rest, just for a minute.
The moment he fell asleep, it would be all over.
“Spock there?” he asked. It was more of a hiss, as another bolt of pain shot through his mangled leg. The blood pool around his body was increasing rapidly. It was dizzying to realize that the entirety of his life was now only comprised of moments instead of years. How quickly it had all changed, and he hadn't even seen it coming.
“Everyone’s here, Bones,” Jim said quietly. Of course they would be. The accident had occurred during alpha shift; the entire senior staff would be present on the bridge.
“Spock,” Leonard grunted, “you gotta do me a favor.”
“Yes, Doctor?”
“You gotta look after the captain’s skinny ass, you hear me?”
“Bones -” Jim broke off. Uhura said something to him, but it was too soft for Leonard to hear.
“And you can’t let him forget that I love him -”
“Len.” That was Christine Chapel, sounding utterly defeated.
“ - and that I don’t regret following him into space for a moment. Got all that?”
There was a beat of silence, and then Spock said, “Understood, Doctor.”
“Good.” Leonard squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to keep his voice steady. “And now you’re gonna close the connection so Jim doesn’t have to hear the end of this.”
“Spock, don’t you dare!” Jim snapped.
“Sorry, darlin’,” Leonard said softly. “Just know - that I’m grateful I got to spend the end of my life with you. I loved every moment.”
Jim’s protest was cut off as the comm link closed, and Leonard let out a broken sob. There was no reason to hold back anymore, now that Jim couldn’t hear, and it was almost a relief.
“Atta boy, Spock,” he whispered. His vision was starting to fade at the edges; it wouldn’t be long now. “Now you take care of him for me.”