Work Text:
“Spock? You alright?”
If this were any other day, Leonard would have something more acerbic to say to Spock, something sharp-tongued and almost rude, but this isn’t any other day. Were Spock a lesser man, he might’ve jumped when Leonard appeared out of the blue, but of course, Spock is not a lesser man. He simply turns to look at Leonard with his usual placid expression and says, “I merely wished to check on the captain. Is there any change?”
“No… No change.”
Jim collapsed yesterday, right in the turbolift in the middle of a conversation with Spock and Scotty. They’d managed to catch him before he was hurt, but it still didn’t explain the collapse. Nothing seemed to. Leonard has run every test he can think of (and even a couple that didn’t immediately come to mind) to try and find a reason, but he’s come up blank. Twenty-four hours after it happened, Leonard is no closer to figuring out why his captain- and more importantly, his friend- collapsed and won’t wake up.
“I trust you will alert me the moment he wakes, doctor.”
“Probably not the exact moment, no. I am a doctor, y’know. It’s more important to me to get his vitals and whatnot before I make all the calls and get the whole damn ship in here fawnin’ all over him,” Leonard tells him honestly.
Spock raises an eyebrow but says nothing else. He looks at Leonard for a brief moment, seems like he wants to say something, but he just leaves sickbay. Leonard wants to be angry with him, wants to call him the same old names and use the same old insults… but he can’t. It’s all so worrying. Healthy men don’t normally drop comatose for no reason, but the reason keeps eluding him. And it’s not like the Enterprise can simply stop everything and fix Jim Kirk. They’re a Federation starship. There’s work to do. So even though the Ennith entreat them not to leave, they have to.
Leonard struggles to figure out what’s going on for two more days before he has something of a breakthrough. The information isn’t particularly new, and he doesn’t want to give Spock false hope by calling him down. Something in him just doesn’t want to see Spock disappointed unnecessarily, not now, so he simply waits for him to show up in sickbay at his usual time.
“Any change, doctor?”
It’s his usual question when he arrives, and Leonard gives him the usual answer.
“No, no change… Might’ve figured something out, but nothing that helps us.”
“All information is useful. Please…”
Leonard sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, explains, “He’s basically in an extreme sleep state. Like the REM stage but somehow deeper. It’s the only thing that’s wrong ‘cause otherwise he’s perfectly healthy, and even then, I dunno if I can even it call it something wrong. Obviously, nothing we’ve done has woken him up, and it doesn’t seem like anything can. I hit him with some electrical stimulation, some harsh smells, a good hard sternum rub… Nothing works. It’s like- He’s just asleep, but he’s more than asleep.”
“More than asleep…” Spock repeats pensively, “You said it was like the REM stage. Explain.”
“He’s got a helluva lot of brain activity. C’mere and look,” Leonard replies, pulling Spock over to the biobed and pointing to the vital readout, “His brain almost reads as awake there’s so much goin’ on… but of course, he isn’t awake. And if he were just asleep, then we should be able to wake him up, but we can’t wake him up because we’ve been tryin’ and nothin’s worked. I’m at a loss, Mr. Spock.”
“As am I. Doctor, you have tried everything to wake him?”
“Spock, I’ve put enough volts into him to wake up a horse and the only movement I got outta him was the involuntary muscle twitches that many volts will cause.”
The brown eyes bore into Leonard’s with such intensity that, if this wasn’t Spock, he would be blushing. Leonard simply waits for him to speak, seconds ticking by, growing increasingly nervous as to what Spock will say. Will he be angry? Does he think Leonard is stupid? He knows Spock well enough to know he’s thinking hard, but he doesn’t know what he’s thinking about. Leonard’s nervousness kicks up, and he starts bouncing up on the balls of his feet.
“Have you tried chemical stimulants?” Spock queries finally.
Certainly not as bad as Leonard thought it was going to be...
“Not as yet. You know Jim’s got a sensitive system. I don’t wanna overload him with adrenaline or somethin’ like that and then create a whole different problem,” Leonard says, “Reckon I could hit him with a few things but it’s gonna take time. I can’t inject more than one at once.”
“Certainly. I defer to your medical judgment in this case. I simply… anticipate the captain’s recovery,” Spock tells him.
There’s a brief moment where Leonard wants to make a snide comment regarding Spock’s humanity, but it isn’t the time or the place. They’re both worried, both afraid, even if Spock won’t admit it upfront. Were Spock not Vulcan, this would be the time to give him a hug or at least friendly shoulder squeeze. Since he is Vulcan, Leonard just sighs again, says, “I’ll do everything I can, Spock. You know I will.”
“Yes, doctor… I know.”
In the next week, Leonard tries every stimulant that Jim isn’t allergic to, from adrenaline to cordrazine. Nothing works. (And the cordrazine should work. Leonard would know.) He dutifully reports each failure to Spock, finally saying, “Dammit, Spock, I just don’t know what else I could do. I’ve done everything I can think of, everything you can think of, everything Chapel can think of… Hell, I’d let Chekov come in and gimme ideas if he really thought they’d work. Not even cordrazine could get so much as a twitch outta him.”
“Cordrazine produced no effect, McCoy?” Spock asks, eyebrow in danger of disappearing under his hair.
“Raised his heart rate a little, but that was it.”
Spock simply turns his attention back to Jim, crossing his arms as he often does while deep in thought. Leonard can almost see the wheels turning, the Vulcan trying to find something logical in the whole situation he can pick apart and get to the center of. Leonard ceased trying to find logic in the situation almost as soon as it was dropped in his lap. There doesn’t seem to be any logic at all.
“May I sit with him a while, McCoy?”
The question throws Leonard for a loop momentarily, but he quickly replies, “Of course, Spock. Have one of the orderlies bring you a chair. Stay as long as you like… so long as you’re not in the way of my staff.”
“I shall do my best to ensure I don’t impede any medical work.”
Spock fetches the chair himself and brings it with him to Jim’s bedside, gently setting it down as if to avoid waking Jim. Leonard swallows hard, wondering just when that lump got into his throat.
It becomes their routine. Spock leaves the bridge after his shift and comes directly to sickbay, sitting in his chair beside Jim. Leonard pretends nothing is out of the ordinary, like Spock is any old crewmember there to sit with any old patient (and not someone who is one of Leonard’s closest friends), doing his best to make small talk.
“Anything interesting happen up on the bridge today, Spock?”
“Nothing of great import. The bridge remains subdued without the captain,” Spock replies, “Mr. Chekov has tried to lighten the atmosphere with jokes that are not really funny, though the crew laughs, perhaps to lighten his mood by making him think he is humorous. Lieutenant Uhura has also attempted to cheer everyone with a variety of songs... They are certainly better than Chekov’s jokes.”
“Almost anything is better than one of Chekov’s jokes. He just ain’t that funny, is all. Sometimes, though, the fact that he isn’t funny is what’s really funny.”
“I appreciate the way everyone has continued working in his absence. The whole crew is performing admirably.”
“They’re a good crew, Spock. They know what to do. Hell, the whole command could fall apart and this crew would still get this ship through it.”
Silence reigns for a moment, perhaps one longer than they would prefer, before Leonard asks the question he’s been avoiding for days now.
“Has- umm… Has Starfleet been in contact with you?”
One of the first things they had to do upon Jim’s collapse was notify Starfleet command. The Enterprise is an important ship, after all, and if her captain is down, Starfleet needs to know what’s going on. Leonard is just worried what they’re going to order Spock to do.
“They have. I am technically in command of the Enterprise…” Spock replies slowly, “and if there is no improvement in another few days, I am to bring the Enterprise to the nearest starbase so we can take on a new captain and have Jim committed to a long term care facility.”
Leonard feels his stomach roll and his blood pressure skyrocket.
“Absolutely not,” he states adamantly, “I can care for Jim just fine right here. What if he wakes up in there, huh? What’s he gonna think of us if he wakes up in some- some- dammit! Spock, we’re not giving him up!”
The anger is expected. He has every right to be angry, but he didn’t think he’d be this angry... and certainly not on Spock’s behalf as well as his own. His heart pounds in his chest and he knows his face is redder than a fresh tomato. Spock, to his credit, doesn’t comment on Leonard’s irrational (and very Human) anger, telling him firmly, “Don’t worry, McCoy. We will not be giving up Jim to anyone.”
“You’d really disobey Starfleet’s orders to keep him onboard?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Spock replies simply, “Wouldn’t he?”
Spock’s words make Leonard’s anger melt away as quickly as it came, only to be replaced with something that makes his chest feel tight and painful.
“We’ve done it before, I reckon.”
“Jim will not leave the Enterprise. I can assure you of that, doctor.”
And Leonard believes him. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time they’d disobeyed direct orders from Starfleet command to protect each other, and it likely won’t be the last. Leonard gets a chair of his own and settles it next to Spock’s at Jim’s bedside, his chest tightening even further. It’s been fifteen days since Jim collapsed.
On day seventeen, he catches Spock talking to Jim. His voice is quiet and as soft as a Vulcan can make his voice while he tells him the daily happenings of the ship and crew, even one of Chekov’s bad jokes (“... though something of the quality is lost in my telling…”), and Leonard decides not to interrupt until he’s done. He waits by the doorway and watches him talk, watches the way he leans in with his hands on the bed close to Jim’s arm.
There’s always been something there between Jim and Spock, something gentle and sweet and more than friendship. They complement each other in ways Leonard could only dream of. It’s only quite recently that he’s realized that he feels incredibly jealous of their relationship. He checks himself before he goes in, makes sure he unclenches his jaw and hands. There doesn’t need to be any more tension in that room.
“Just need to check his vitals real quick, Spock,” Leonard tells him, slapping on a smile he doesn’t feel like wearing.
Everything is almost reflexive at this point. Jim’s vital signs barely fluctuate from day to day, so at least he’s remaining stable, and the biobed administers miniscule electrical shocks to his muscles to keep them from losing tone and use while he remains bed bound.
“Looks like he’s just takin’ a ‘lil nap, doesn’t he?” Leonard remarks quietly, decides to try to get Spock to chat with him, “I like talkin’ to him sometimes, y’know? Like… maybe Jim can’t talk back to us but he can hear us okay in there.”
“I admit that, illogical though it seemed to me at first, I have also found a level of comfort in speaking to him. I was telling him the daily ship’s business before you arrived, McCoy.”
“I’m sure he appreciates it, Spock. You know he loves this ship more than anything.”
Spock nods, and Leonard swears he sees the man’s throat bob with a heavy swallow. The three men sit in silence, only one because he’s currently unable to speak; the other two just don’t know what to say. He looks at Spock more closely. He’s not sitting quite as Vulcan-straight in the chair as he normally would, his usually still hands fidgeting in his lap.
“You been sleepin’ okay, Spock?” Leonard asks, resting his hand on the arm of Spock’s chair.
“Why do you ask?”
“I worry about you,” the phrase earns him a raised eyebrow, so he continues, “You’re here a lot, well after the rest of my staff leaves. Night shift even said you’ve been here through the night once or twice. You still need to take care of yourself, y’know.”
“Doctor McCoy, you know as well as I do that I do not require the same amount of sleep as a full Human does-”
“That may be true, but you still need rest, whether you wanna sleep or meditate or whatever, you need to do it. Wouldn’t be a good look if Jim woke up but then you were stuck in my sickbay in his place because you wouldn’t rest.”
Spock doesn’t reply for a beat, then turns the situation on Leonard, asking, “What about you, McCoy? Have you been sleeping well?”
“No,” he answers truthfully, “Can’t hardly sleep when I keep thinkin’ I’ve missed somethin’ that could help Jim… but I’m tryin’, Spock. I am.”
“To sleep? Or to help Jim?”
“Both, I hope.”
Again, Spock makes no verbal reply, simply nodding and returning his gaze to Jim. If Leonard didn’t know better, he’d say Spock was a little down in the dumps. Of course, he does know better, and so he knows Spock is utterly miserable.
The whole ship has an air of misery about it, every crew member worried about their captain’s comatose state and the fact that even Doctor McCoy hasn’t been able to wake him. Leonard and Spock’s bad moods haven’t gone unnoticed, either. It’s important for the crew’s morale that they maintain their hope, but it’s just so hard to have hope when it seems like every day Jim is less likely to wake up than the day before. Chapel has stopped trying to draw them into conversation when they’re together, both Leonard and Spock getting lost in their joint sadness. It’s the only time they can really feel sad, it seems like, when they are together and don’t have to hold it together for the rest of the ship.
By day twenty-four, Leonard is exhausted. There’s only so many times he can go in there with a fake smile painted on his face and talk to Jim in a cheerful voice and try to make the rest of the crew feel better. There’s only so many hours of sleep he can lose out on wondering what he isn’t doing to help Jim. There’s only so much time he can spend lying awake at night thinking about a life without Jim in it. Twenty-four days is a long time. He’s shocked it’s taken him this long to break down.
But break down he does, right there in his office, right when Spock is due in after his shift. He just can’t hold it all in anymore. The sobs bubble up before he can even try to stop them, fat tears pouring down his cheeks. Leonard doesn’t want to stop them, though. It feels good cathartic, healing, so he lets himself sob in his office without caring who might see.
He jumps when someone lays a hand on his shoulder, relaxes almost instantly when he realizes it’s Spock. (Of course it’s Spock. He would recognize him anywhere, any way. How could he not?) Leonard looks up at him, knowing he looks a perfect picture of misery, can only imagine how wet and splotchy his face looks at the moment. Spock doesn’t appear to care. He pulls a chair over to sit beside Leonard and, with only the merest hesitation, drapes an arm around his shoulders. Leonard lets him do it. Spock doesn’t take the decision to touch anyone lightly, and a little bit of joy bubbles up in his chest knowing that Spock likes him enough to want to touch him. He finds himself leaning into it ever so slightly, his warmth and proximity bringing comfort. Such proximity can’t be comfortable for Spock either, not as a touch telepath.
“You don’t hafta coddle me, Spock,” Leonard sniffs in a moment of respite from the sobs, “I’m sure I’m an emotional whirlwind right now…”
“You are, but I am… I would like to offer you comfort, McCoy. I believe you would do the same for me.”
“Guess I been tryin’... in my own little way… Ya always look so miserable when you’re sittin’ with- with Jim. Maybe no one else can see it, but I can. Can’t fool me, Spock.”
He doesn’t reply, his gaze cast downward and hidden by long lashes. Leonard ignores the twinge in his chest, reaches out, settles his hand just above Spock’s knee, squeezes gently. There’s a beat, and Spock’s fingers twitch against Leonard’s shoulder, grip tightening slightly. It’s nice. They sit together in the small office, door shut, privacy screen activated, and it’s nice to just let it all out.
“I just don’t know anymore, Spock. I don’t know what else to do,” he admits brokenly, “It- It doesn’t seem like there is anything to do and I’m- I can’t-”
Another sob rips from Leonard’s throat, and he ducks his head, dropping it into the hand not clutching at Spock’s thigh like he might disappear. Spock remains silent, just tightens his arm around Leonard’s shoulders. It hurts . It hurts that Jim is gone but not, and it hurts that he feels useless, and it hurts that he has to look at Jim laying in a biobed and know he’s done everything but it’s just not enough . Then it hurts more when he realizes all the hurt isn’t his own and that Spock’s own pain is so great he can’t control the emotional transference to Leonard while they touch, and that sets off another round of sobbing.
“It hurts, Spock! It just hurts so much!” he cries.
“Yes… it hurts very much, Leonard.”
So as if he wasn’t crying enough, Spock has to go and do something so painfully gentle as call him by his given name. He might even be crying for a different reason now. He can’t be sure. It’s too much crying. By the time he’s fully calmed, Leonard is exhausted, his whole body sagging against Spock’s while Spock tries to keep him upright.
“You need rest,” Spock tells him quietly, “You’ve worn yourself very thin in your care for Jim.”
“I know… I know,” Leonard murmurs.
“Allow me to return with you to your quarters, Leonard. I believe you would benefit from both assistance and company.”
Too tired to argue, Leonard acquiesces, allowing Spock to walk him out of sickbay and to his quarters. He needs sleep. He knows this better than anyone since he’s a doctor. Spock eases him onto the bed, then sits in a nearby chair, gazing expectantly at Leonard.
“Y’know, starin’ at me like that ain’t gonna make me go to sleep any faster,” Leonard teases, sobers, tells him, “You don’t have to sit with me, Spock. You can go back and sit with Jim if ya want. Won’t hurt my feelings none.”
“I am perfectly content to sit here with you... if you wish me to.”
“Come on now, I know you love Jim. Go sit with him.”
It has been the proverbial elephant in the room the whole time, knowing how much Spock loves Jim, and it hurts to finally verbalize it. Why else would he come sit with Jim every day and talk to him and worry over him? That doesn’t explain Spock’s current expression though, his ducked head and fidgeting hands. Leonard softly calls his name, a subtle request for him to look up. It’s Spock’s turn to acquiesce now, and Leonard feels his breath catch in his throat.
Spock’s eyes have always shown more emotion than he likely wanted them to, a side effect of being half-Human. A beautiful dark brown, they’ve always betrayed what he was truly feeling, though Jim and Leonard and the rest of the crew have always had the politeness to never bring it up. Leonard wants to now. They’re full of longing and sadness and something else Leonard can’t quite pin down but is certain has never been directed at him before.
“Jim… Jim is a very dear friend, and I do love him…” Spock says quietly, gaze not moving from Leonard’s, “but not in the way you’re seeming to imply. There is nothing… romantic in my feelings toward him. He is my Captain, and I am his First. I respect him and fear for him and care deeply for him, but I do not wish to pursue a relationship of a romantic nature with him.”
A strange sense of relief blossoms in Leonard’s chest, and he realizes with a start that he’s been jealous of Jim’s relationship with Spock. This creates a whole new problem when, with another start, he understands that he’s actually been in love with Spock the entire time.
“Leonard…”
He takes a deep breath to replace the one he’d been holding without realizing it. He feels the power of Spock’s gaze in a way he didn’t before this moment.
“I have been feeling a similar fondness for you for some time, Leonard,” Spock continues, “I thought, perhaps, that I was simply feeling the same kind of friendship for you that I feel for Jim. These past few weeks have changed my perspective. Despite the circumstances, I have enjoyed spending time with you, enjoyed our conversations… and I have discovered that my fondness for you is quite-... quite different than the fondness I feel for Jim.”
“Spock… I-... I don’t know what to say-”
“Then say nothing. I should not have brought it up at this time, not while you’re still exhausted and upset. It was poor timing…” Spock gets to his feet, adjusts his shirt, turns to the door, “Please. You should rest-”
“Will you stay?”
The question leaves his lips before he can call it back, but he’s glad it did. He should’ve realized long ago that his feelings for Spock ran deeper than comradeship. Poor timing or not, it’s out in the open now, and Leonard isn’t going to let the chance slip by. Spock opens his mouth to reply, but Leonard cuts him off, telling him, “I want you to stay, I mean. Please… I want you to stay, Spock.”
He reaches out but doesn’t know what he’s reaching for besides Spock. Whatever he wants, Spock seems to understand. He turns back to face him and slowly makes his way to Leonard’s bed, comes close enough for Leonard’s fingertips brush his thigh. The next moment feels like it lasts forever, the tension tangible. Whatever happens next will change everything, for good or bad.
Spock sits beside him on the narrow bed, sits closer than he ever has. Still, anything could happen in the next few seconds. Anything.
It still stops his breath when Spock reaches up and cups his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin. It’s so gentle and intimate (especially for a Vulcan) that Leonard doesn’t know if he’ll ever breathe again.
“Leonard… I shall stay as long as you wish,” he murmurs, “Just rest for now-“
Leonard surges forward to press their lips together, desperate to tell Spock how he feels and unable to do so with words. His own hands come up to touch Spock, one holding his face and the other cradling the back of his head, fingers getting lost in silky hair. He pulls away after a few seconds, wondering if he just did something smart or incredibly stupid. He doesn’t get far, Spock immediately chasing him and kissing him again. It’s soft and wonderful, starting to heal some of the cracks deep in Leonard’s heart. Their lips part ever so briefly, enough for Leonard to whisper once more, “Please stay, Spock.”
And he does stay, pressing close to Leonard there on the narrow bed as they both finally drift into sleep. It’s the best they’ve slept in weeks.
“Spock,” Leonard says excitedly, grabbing Spock’s sleeve and pulling him into his office, “I think I may have a lead on what’s wrong with Jim.”
It’s been almost an entire month since Jim collapsed into the deepest sleep anyone’s ever seen. It’s been a hard month, so any new leads are worth pursuing. Spock clearly tries to hide his own excitement, but they’ve both been waiting for a break in the case. Besides, Leonard can see right through him.
“Please explain.”
“If you recall, we were on a diplomatic mission to the Ennith when Jim collapsed,” Leonard tells him, “Now,if you also recall, the Ennith are mildly telepathic-”
“Yes, I do recall, both items. What is the significance, Leonard?”
“Perhaps the Ennith had something to do with Jim’s condition. Now I’m not sayin’ they intended anything malicious by it, but we have some time comin’ up between missions. Why don’t we go back to Enna and diplomatically ask if somethin’ happened?”
“I suppose that could do no harm, especially if it is the only lead we have,” Spock replies, “I will go and give the necessary commands so we may arrive with as much expediency as possible.”
It’s another two days before they return to Enna and meet with their diplomatic corps. After some peaceable beating around the bush, Leonard finally says, “Alright, now I’m sure ya didn’t mean anything by it, but we gotta ask… Did you do something to Captain Kirk?”
He quickly explains what happened, and one of the Ennith gets a terrified look on eir face, telling them, “I- I meant no harm. Your captain noted to some of us he had been feeling tired of late, that the trip you all were undertaking had been somewhat exhausting recently. I only sought to help him.”
“Help him how?”
“We Ennith occasionally undertake a state of deep sleep and pleasant dreaming in order to rejuvenate. Another will sit with us, send us into the rejuvenation state, and then the same one must wake us. I thought perhaps if your captain were to do the same, he would also feel rejuvenated. It was only meant to be for a day or two… but then you had to leave. I tried to ask you to stay but you could not. Your captain is well?”
“I s’pose he is. He’s just been asleep for a month.”
“May I see him? I would like to rectify my mistake and return him to wakefulness.”
Leonard says, “Of course, come with me,” and leads em down to sickbay to see Jim. It isn’t long before ey works whatever telepathic magic ey has, and Jim is slowly blinking into wakefulness.
“There. I hope I have adequately rectified my mistake, doctor.”
“I think you have… Just, next time you oughta tell someone before ya put ‘em in a rejuvenation trance or whatever ya call it. That way we’re prepared.”
As the Ennith leaves, Spock appears, asking, “Is the captain awake, Leonard?”
“Almost. He’s been asleep a long time-“
“Bones? Izzat you?”
“Yes, Jim, I’m here… Spock, too. How ya feelin’?”
Jim blinks some more, rubs some sleep from his eyes, asks, “How long was I out for?”
“I asked you first. How ya feelin’, Jim?”
“Pretty-... pretty good, actually… Really good, in fact. You know, I had the most lovely dream I was on Risa and-“
“You have been asleep for thirty-three days, Captain,” Spock (wisely) interrupts, “The doctor and I were very concern-”
“Thirty-three days ?” Jim yelps, eyes wide.
Spock explains what the Ennith did and that he and Leonard and the rest of the crew were unaware of the situation. Of course, Leonard can’t help but jump in with his usual gruffness, standing close to Spock and half-shouting at Jim, “Me and Spock were worried sick and what was wrong with ya? Nothin’, that’s what! You were just over here in Dreamland, dreamin’ about god knows what- and don’t tell me what because I don’t wanna know what goes in your damn fool head, Jim!”
“Come on, Bones, it’s not like I chose to sleep for that long. I appreciate what the Ennith did, but I didn’t ask them to do it-”
“I don’t care what you asked for or didn’t ask for-”
“Oh come on, Bones-”
“You are back with us now,” Spock jumps in, breaking up the budding argument, “Leonard and I have much to-“
“Leonard?” Jim wonders, eyebrow raised, “Spock-... Spock, you never call him Leonard … I think there’s a lot you need to catch me up on, you two.”
“Yes… I believe there is.”
The little smile they share only raises Jim’s eyebrow more.