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Whenever his liege talks of loyalty, Leonard is the first to complain that the McCoys were brought here against their will. The story of First Contact is an old one, though many don't remember their true origins on Vulcan. All they know is, by the time The Federation came, they were surprised to see a clan like themselves.
"- With rounded ears, and hearts on their sleeves," Papa said, as he explained it to young Leonard. Back then, Leonard knew that Vulcans and humans had different hearts, at least in different places, but he never mistook is father's words for anatomy advice. It was Shakespeare- he knew as much from Spock- the man he tries to hate, but never can.
They're both teenagers, the first time he says it. "You are free to leave whenever you wish," Spock says. "This afternoon, for instance. I've heard there's an outbound starship, going to Earth."
Leonard bristles at that. "I have never seen Earth, and I never will."
"I know," Spock says. "Because the McCoys are loyal to The House Of Surak."
Spock would deny it, but Leonard has always been able to read him like a book- like one of the human books Spock has on his shelf, nothing like the McCoy family homestead, with their ancient tomes, stretching back through generations.
"Your family is better versed in Earth literature than mine is." Leonard jokes, though he's not entirely incorrect.
Spock raises an eyebrow, and passes him the book. "The Federation was formed two hundred years ago, Leonard," he chides him. "It's time to catch up."
Leonard accepts the book, reads it, and laments that he's never been to Earth. Spock, who visited six months ago with his mother, doesn't bother accusing him of theatrics. Instead, he bows his head.
"You're free to leave at any time."
But the McCoys are loyal to the house of Surak.
The next year, the question comes again, as Leonard sits in a darkened room. His hand lies on his father's wrist, though he's had to roll the sleeves down. On and on beats a tentative pulse, and, so far, it's still beating- but the night is young.
The unification of Vulcan is a long process, and Leonard has no say in the choice of his cousins. There are humans and half-Vulcans in his family who have made their own decisions to go to war- but something feels different with his father, for Leonard has no brothers, and their blood type wasn't a match.
"If it wasn't for the Federation," Leonard whispers, "He would be dead."
"Will you leave?" Spock says, and the question is different, now.
When he'd requested to beam back down, The Starfleet doctor had stared at him as if he was mad. "You know it's a war zone down there?"
"I'll stay," Leonard whispers. "But I will never raise a sword for you."
Perhaps it's unfair of him- Spock is, after all, only sixteen- but right now, he can hardly bear to look at him.
But, time passes, and wounds heal.
By the time Spock enters battle himself, he's a young man. His kingdom is in tatters, his father is gone, but those few humans in his life remain by his side. Leonard sees his mother, Amanda, dress him before the battle- helping him into armour which cannot help, for Stonn's army has no honour. They fight with ranged weapons, electricity thrumming through them, things which are banned from ritual combat. But Stonn cares not for tradition- he only wants an end to their war.
Leonard should feel rage- it was the House of Stonn which almost took his father, six years ago- but, instead, he feels a deadly calm. As his father lays battle plans and his cousins arm themselves, Leonard prepares medical supplies.
He will never pick up a sword for their kingdom, but that doesn't mean he won't fight.
They return Spock from battle with a hole in his chest, in a place which would kill a human. As he is only half-human, Leonard is confident he will make it.
He remains confident up until his heart stops.
"No. No, no no. You can't die on me." He leans over the table, presses a kiss to his lips, and a hypospray to his neck. "Come back to me," he whispers. He waits with baited breath, his hand on Spock's lower ribcage, waiting for the telltale thrum of a heart, bursting back to life.
Everything about Spock is fixed. Everything should be working. Leonard has a few supplies left over from the Starfleet ship. Two years ago, Sarek had forbade him to use them on him, instead choosing to die from his wounds. Leonard's wasn't even sure if they were calibrated to his anatomy, but he had been willing to try. Ultimately, it never made a difference.
His hand falls away from his ribcage.
"You know it's a war zone down there?"
"I do," he croaks. "But it's home."
He grabs his hand, and squeezes it tight.
"Don't leave me," he whispers. "Come on, you stubborn, stubborn Vulcan. All these years, and I didn't leave you."
He keeps hold of Spock's hand far longer than he ought to, long after he knows he should have lost hope. Spock is gone, and Leonard's hand rests on the edge of his sleeve, so he doesn't feel the gentle ebb beneath.
... But, it turns out human and Vulcan hearts may not be so different, after all.
With a gasp, Spock's eyes flutter open. He's too weak to talk just yet, but his eyebrows raise, just a fraction, as if to say "Stubborn, Doctor? I think we both know which of us that is."
As he leans in to press his forehead to Spock's, Leonard shakes with laughter and silent tears.