Work Text:
Spock, if pressed, would probably admit he was tired.
The days following Nero’s demise and Vulcan’s destruction were hectic to say the least. The Enterprise crew, fresh off the battle to protect Earth, barely had a day's rest before they were tasked with emergency deployments and missions.
Starfleet had taken a massive hit in the destruction of one of its founding homeworlds, along with the culling of most of its ships and personnel at the hands of the Narada. And the Enterprise was already the fleet’s flagship, and so it was logical that it would be called upon to help keep the frayed pieces of the Federation together.
Their current mission was one that, as the humans would say, hit close to home for Spock. They were to ferry a group of Vulcan refugees from one of the last ships to flee Vulcan to Deep Space 2, so they could join the remaining group of his people that were in the vicinity of the planet when it was destroyed. From there, they would await news of the remaining High Command’s decision on how to proceed in terms of a new home for his people.
Among those refugees were a group of six orphaned young Vulcans, of various ages. They had come in and looked on with wide, fearful eyes at the various officers attending the transportation room that day, Spock included. The youngest, possibly no older than two years old, seemed on the verge of tears and was clutching the sleeve of one of the adults as he and the Captain greeted them.
Spock could tell the children were still shell-shocked from the events that had transpired. The pain of the sudden severing of the tapestry of minds that connected families and all Vulcan people had been almost maddening to him, and to a child… he could scarcely understand how most of them hadn’t succumbed to despair, and could stand there, stoic as possible apart from the obvious fear they couldn’t mask.
The children were escorted to the medbay along with an adult guardian for a routine check-up, and he soon had his hands full with helping the adults find their temporary quarters as they made their way to Deep Space 2.
It was a three day trip at warp to their destination, and during most of it their Vulcan passengers spent it in the seclusion of their respective cabins, and the crew did not intrude on them.
Spock however, couldn’t have the luxury of nursing his mental wounds in the solitude of his cabin. There was much to be done, and he had much to consider for his future, and the future of his commission.
With little time on his hands, he began neglecting his meditation, and he feared it was beginning to catch up to him, if the way Nyota would send him worried glances was anything to go by. He would have to remedy that, before he truly began feeling the effects of how tired he truly was.
By the end of Alpha shift, Spock stepped into the turbolift, looking forward to taking a few hours for himself to center his mind, when he saw a blur of golden yellow as the hand of his Captain, Jim, jabbed between the sliding doors of the turbolift as they were closing, effectively forcing them to open themselves up again.
“Spock! Hey, sorry, can you do me a favor?” the Captain said with a sheepish grin.
He raised an eyebrow at the man, already inwardly sighing at the prospect of putting off his meditation for a little while longer, “Captain?”
Jim presented him a padd, which he immediately took, “Can you pop by medbay to give this to Bones? This just came in from the Admiralty, requisition for a supply of Denobulan Measles vaccines, seems there’s been an outbreak in a planet near Deep Space 2 and we’ll have to go there after we drop off our passengers.”
“Understood,” he said presently with a nod, tucking the padd under an arm.
“Thanks, Spock. Owe you one,” Jim said with another grin and a pat on his shoulder, before stepping back and allowing the turbolift doors to close.
This time, Spock sighed outwardly, the young Captain was still an enigma to him and he felt he should have reminded him that as his superior officer, he didn’t have to ask favors from Spock. Regardless, he appreciated the courtesy.
He was quick to arrive at his destination, the medbay’s doors sliding open silently and allowing him to step inside.
The room was mostly quiet, only a few of the more severe cases of injury from the battle with the Narada still were occupying the biobeds.
Seeing the head nurse checking on one of the biobed monitors, he called softly, “Nurse Chapel? Where is Doctor McCoy?”
She turned and blinked at him, apparently surprised at seeing him there. The shadows under her eyes indicated the tiredness most of the crew shared by now, “Oh, he’s in one of the private rooms in the back, room three I think?”
“Thank you,” he nodded, stepping briskly in the direction of said room, eager to get this task done with and on his way to his quarters.
When he neared it however, his sensitive hearing picked up soft voices on the other side of the door. For some unfathomable reason, he stopped himself from opening it, and leaned his ear in the direction of the sounds.
“... and then the white rabbit said, ‘Oh dear, oh my, I am dreadfully late,’ and began to hop in place, pocket-watch in his furry hand, before dashing in the direction of the bushes,” the voice was unmistakably McCoy, but in a soft tone he had never heard before from the gruff man.
With a soundless slide, the door opened, and he peeked inside. From where he was standing, he could see McCoy sitting on the floor of the far back of the room, two of the youngest Vulcan children sitting quietly in his lap as he read to them.
Spock felt frozen on the spot as he gazed at the soft expression on the man. The two children were quiet and seemed at ease with him, he could see none of that fearful energy or sense the pulsing waves of despair that had before been constant companions to the children.
One of the Vulcan children, a young girl with dark skin, looked up at McCoy with questioning eyes, “Do rabbits talk and use watches on Earth? I thought they were simple mammals, with no high intelligence.”
McCoy smiled at her, a warm expression that he had until then never seen in the cantankerous doctor’s face, “Well, maybe they do. Trust me, rabbits are much more smart than you give them credit for.”
“Fascinating,” the girl murmured, eyes bright in childish wonder as she looked down at the padd McCoy was holding.
As the doctor continued reading to them what was unmistakably Alice in Wonderland, Spock felt a strange sensation on his side, a fluttering on his stomach and his heart skipping a beat. He wasn’t sure why the sight of such a caring and warm side to McCoy affected him so, it was logical for a medical professional to be gentle with children… was it not?
“You’re staring,” he almost jumped as he heard Nyota’s hushed voice next to him.
When he turned to look at her, she was staring at him with barely concealed amusement and curiosity. He felt his face warm up at her scrutiny, not sure why he felt like he had been caught doing something embarrassing despite not having done anything wrong.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise as her eyes moved from his own to Spock’s blushing cheeks, Nyota’s gaze flicked to McCoy and then back to Spock, a considering expression on her face.
He cleared his throat and nodded, “Nyota.” Suddenly he felt like he had to get out of there, and get started on that much needed meditation.
Nyota gave him a smirk, seemingly seeing something in him that even he wasn’t sure he knew himself, “Spock, didn’t know you’d be here.” She had a couple of padds on her hands.
“The Captain asked me to deliver this requisition to Doctor McCoy,” he said, showing her the padd he had in hands, still wary of the knowing smirk Nyota was sending him.
She hummed, “Well, best get it to him then. I came over to bring some more storybooks for him, the children seem to adore him.”
Spock followed her gaze as she looked back fondly at the man still reading from the padd in his hands to the young Vulcans.
“Cute, right?” Nyota said.
He watched as McCoy let out a small laugh at a question from the older child, it lit up his whole face, making him years younger, “Indeed.”
Spock turned to his friend and thrust the padd he was holding in her direction, “If you would, please give this to Doctor McCoy, I shall retire to my quarters for meditation.”
“Alright,” she cocked her head to the side as she took the offered padd. “Are we still on for the ka’athyra lesson later this week?”
“We are,” he didn’t have the heart to tell her at the moment that their quiet meetings where he would teach her how to play the Vulcan lute were most likely soon to come to an end, if what he had in mind for his future came to pass. But then again – he looked back at McCoy – perhaps he would still change his mind.
As he left, he heard McCoy’s muted, “... was that Spock?”, voice curious but still with a soft edge to it.
Perhaps he would have more chances to hear that tone again.
The End.