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"I think you've got it all wrong, Spock," McCoy stated. He was stalking down the corridor next to Spock.
Spock drew a deep breath. "That is hardly a surprise."
But McCoy was clearly in no mood to be diverted by a lesser argument. "Every time we're in a situation like this, your answer is to count out how many people might live versus how many people might die."
"It is a core tenet of Vulcan philosophy that--"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," McCoy waved his hand dismissively. "All kinds of philosophies say all different kinds of things. But some things you just know inside. If we leave a landing party to keep the Enterprise safe, then maybe more people will live than if we stay and try to get the landing party back, but what about the next time? How's the next landing party going to feel going somewhere knowing that they might get left behind at the drop of a hat."
"That's hardly a fair assessment. No one aboard this vessel, including myself, takes the decision to leave a landing party in danger lightly." Spock rolled his shoulders back. He could feel tension beginning to build there. "Besides, anyone who joins Starfleet knows the potential for danger. Perhaps if you had attended Starfleet Academy yourself, you would have a better understanding."
McCoy raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad I didn't go, then. I'd rather understand that you don't leave somebody behind. No matter what."
"You're speaking from emotion."
"You're damn right I am!"
"Your reaction is unwarranted. In this case, the landing party has been retrieved in full without casualties."
"But next time maybe not. I don't know if you can get this through that logical computer brain of yours, Mister Spock." McCoy was squinting one eye, the way he sometimes did when he was particularly angry. "But I know the names and medical histories of every single person on this ship. I know their next of kin. For you they're just crew members, pieces to fill out the puzzle of who is on what duty and shift. Me? I know who's going to mourn them when they go. I wouldn't leave any of them to die any more than I'd do that to my own kid."
"Would you prefer the families of four-hundred people aboard this ship to mourn, including your own?"
McCoy clenched his jaw. "That's not what I prefer, Spock," he said. "But I don't want anybody to think we gave up on the people they love. It's hard enough on them with us out here.
They stopped at the doors of Spock's quarters, only a few meters from the doors of McCoy's quarters, and Spock turned to face him. "May I make an observation, Doctor?"
"By all means."
"I believe that you would accept my decisions more readily if I were to express regret or concern, as Captain Kirk often does when he must make a difficult command decision."
McCoy furrowed his brow, then shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt."
"Perhaps it would. Emotion can cloud judgement. Humans merely balance their emotion and judgement differently than Vulcans."
"What balance do Vulcans have? It's not balance if you just get rid of one for the other."
Spock was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Would you join me in my quarters, Doctor?"
A smile tugged on one side of McCoy's mouth. "That's one way to end the argument."
Spock let McCoy inside. McCoy wasted little time before he was against Spock, his arms wrapped around his back and his face burried against his shoulder. Spock took a deep breath, then gradually put his arms around McCoy as well.
"I'm so damn tired," McCoy murmured against Spock's shoulder.
"You should sleep."
McCoy shook his head. "Not that kind of tired."
Spock wasn't sure he fully understood what McCoy meant, but he knew what he needed. He stood and held him for a long time until McCoy drew away. He led Spock over to a chair and instructed him to, "Sit."
As soon as he did, McCoy pulled off Spock's uniform top and began to massage his shoulders.
This had become something of a ritual after long days like this one. The first time, Spock had insisted that it was unnecessary until McCoy shut him up with a firm palm between his shoulder blades that had loosened a muscle so tight that he gasped in both pain and relief. Since then, he allowed McCoy to massage him until the doctor was satisfied that Spock was relaxed enough.
McCoy found a particularly big knot and began to work it as Spock closed his eyes and let his head bow forward slightly.
"There it is," McCoy whispered. "I swear, the only time I know what you're feeling is when I see what it does to you by the end of the day."
"What 'it' does?" Spock asked. "What 'it' do you mean, Doctor?"
"That weight you put on your shoulders that you won't let anybody help you with."
Spock opened his eyes and turned to look at McCoy over his shoulder. "You can't determine what someone is thinking by the muscles in their back."
"Maybe you can't, but I'm a professional." He put his hand on the top of Spock's head and turned it forward again. Then, he pressed his thumbs along the back of Spock's neck. "Here's that annoyance at me from a few minutes ago." He moved down to the tops of his shoulders pressed into them. "Here's all the pressure you put on yourself all the time to be Vulcan enough, but not so Vulcan you'll drive away all us illogical humans." He moved down Spock's back. "Here's the burden of command. The fear you'll let everyone down, that you'll make the wrong decision."
Spock drew forward, away from McCoy's touch, even though it felt good. "This is projection. Your interpretation is merely what you would like to be the case."
McCoy sighed. "Then what is it, Spock? How do you feel after a day like today?"
"I analyze the situation, determine where good decisions were made, and where better decisions could be made next time. Then--"
"That's what you do. I asked how you feel."
"Doctor..."
"Personally, I feel tired." He rested his hand on Spock's back, but didn't try to continue to massage him. "I feel tired of worrying about all these people on this ship who depend on us senior officers. They trust us. Sometimes they trust us too much. They see Kirk as the infallible leader, they expect me to be able to heal anybody, and the expect about the same out of Scott with the engines. They expect Uhura to hear the crackle of a comm signal from half a galaxy away and Sulu and Chekov to fly us through anything space has to throw at us. And you might have it the worst. You should know better than anybody, Humans can't quite shake that inferiority complex we have with Vulcans. We expect everything from you, and then we want a little extra."
Spock arched an eyebrow. "You believe that you are inferior to me?"
"Now, I didn't say that. You--" McCoy blew out a breath and rounded to the front of Spock. "I'm just trying to tell you that, well. I don't always agree with you. In fact, I almost never agree with you, and that's just how it's going to be. But at the end of the day, you did what you could do, and I did what I could do, and the Enterprise is still flying. And maybe you and me can find a little comfort in knowing that, even though we don't see eye-to-eye, we got through it."
"Doctor," Spock said. He reached for McCoy's hand and held it. McCoy leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips, then on the back of his hand. "You said that I don't allow anyone to help me with the weight on my shoulders."
"That's right," McCoy said softly.
"An illogical claim."
McCoy pulled back with a dubious expression.
"I allow you to help," he said. He looked directly into McCoy's eyes. "And you do help me 'find comfort' as you said."
McCoy smiled and cast his eyes down, shaking his head. "I'm going to need you to give me a massage after being such a pain in my neck. Now hold still this time." He moved around behind Spock again and continued to rub his back. "And when I'm done, you're taking me to your bed."
"Of course, Doctor." Spock closed his eyes again and, for the moment, allowed himself a moment of calm.