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The jungle is loud with the sound of rushing water, animal calls, and angry voices behind them.
Jim runs harder.
Branches snap in his face, mud sticks to his boots, and sweat burns his eyes. He doesn’t look back—he doesn’t need to. The howling war cries of the natives chasing them are getting closer.
“Move!” he shouts over his shoulder.
McCoy is a few feet behind him, panting hard, covered in cuts and bruises. Spock keeps up easily—or at least, he pretends to. Jim notices the slight drag in his step, the way he clenches his jaw and keeps one arm tighter to his side. It’s subtle. Almost nothing.
But not nothing.
They leap over a fallen log and scramble down a slope. The river’s ahead. Fast, wide, violent. Probably their only chance.
“This is your idea of a calm diplomatic mission?” McCoy snaps between gasps.
Jim doesn’t answer. He’s too busy trying not to fall on his face.
Spock’s breathing is off. Still controlled, but wrong. Jim looks over just in time to see him stumble for half a second. Just a flicker. Then he’s upright again, pushing forward.
“Spock—” Jim starts.
“I am functional,” Spock says sharply, eyes forward.
He doesn’t sound fine.
McCoy hears it too. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means he’s lying,” Jim mutters, grabbing McCoy’s arm and pulling him down the last stretch toward the riverbank. “We’ll deal with it later.”
They splash into the freezing water together. The current pulls hard, almost takes McCoy under. Jim grabs him, and Spock catches both of them from the other side. He drags them to a cluster of rocks where they can get their bearings.
The sounds of pursuit are gone.
For now.
They huddle together on a flat stretch of riverbank, soaked and breathing hard.
Spock sits perfectly still, back against a rock, like he’s meditating.
Jim crouches in front of him. “Alright. Out with it.”
“There is no cause for concern,” Spock replies.
McCoy’s crouched nearby, already digging into his medkit. “Oh, for—Spock, take off your shirt.”
“I assure you, Doctor—”
“That wasn’t a request.”
Spock doesn’t move.
“Damn it, Spock, we could’ve been killed back there,” McCoy barks. “If you’re bleeding out, I need to know now.”
Jim watches the tension settle into Spock’s shoulders like iron bars.
“You concealed an injury,” he says, voice low. “Again.”
Spock glances at him. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are dark. Tired. “It did not impede my performance.”
“That’s not the point,” McCoy growls.
Spock turns to him, jaw tight. “It is precisely the point. I was able to perform my duties—”
McCoy cuts him off. “You’re not a damn machine, Spock!”
His voice bounces off the rocks around them. The jungle goes quiet, like it’s listening.
Jim doesn’t say anything. He’s too busy trying to breathe through the knot forming in his chest.
“I don’t care if you think it’s logical to push through the pain,” McCoy goes on, eyes blazing. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to put yourself at risk like that without saying a word.”
“I did not wish to distract you or the captain during a critical moment,” Spock says, voice sharp but steady. “Your emotional responses often interfere with efficiency.”
McCoy stares at him like he’s been slapped. “Oh, screw you.”
“You would have insisted on immediate medical treatment—”
“Because you were injured!”
“Which would have delayed our escape.”
McCoy stands up, fists clenched. “So what? You’d rather bleed out in silence like some noble jackass instead of letting me do my job?”
“I made a tactical decision.”
“No. You made a selfish one.”
That hits something. Jim sees it in the way Spock flinches, just slightly.
McCoy steps closer. “You think I haven’t seen this before? You think I don’t know what this is? You’re not trying to be logical—you’re trying to prove something. Like you can take it. Like pain means nothing to you. Newsflash, Spock—it does. And you hiding it doesn’t make you strong. It makes you reckless.”
Spock’s breathing has picked up. Not much, but enough. “You are projecting. Your concern is emotional. Irrational.”
McCoy laughs, bitter. “You’re damn right I’m emotional. I’ve watched you nearly die too many times because you think you can handle everything alone.”
Jim finally stands. He puts a hand on McCoy’s arm, trying to calm him, but McCoy doesn’t move. His whole body is shaking.
“You think this is about duty?” McCoy says. “You think I’m yelling at you because I’m just some overdramatic human? I’m yelling because I care, you arrogant Vulcan.”
Spock looks up at him then, something flickering behind his eyes. “I know.”
That’s it.
Just two words.
But they make McCoy freeze.
Jim sees it hit him—sees the breath catch in his throat, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for Spock and doesn’t.
Silence settles between them. Not peaceful. Thick. Heavy.
McCoy crouches again, slower this time. “Let me see it,” he says quietly.
Spock hesitates. Then, finally, he lifts his shirt.
The wound is deep. Ugly. A gash running from just under his ribs toward his side, oozing green. Jim feels sick.
McCoy curses under his breath and immediately gets to work, disinfecting, sealing, scanning.
Spock barely reacts.
Jim watches him. Watches the way his face stays still, but his hand grips the rock beneath him just a little too hard.
“You scared the hell out of me,” McCoy mutters, pressing the dermal regenerator to the torn skin.
“I did not intend to.”
“Yeah, well, you did.”
Jim sits down next to them, wet and tired and still buzzing with adrenaline. He doesn’t know what to say. Part of him wants to yell too. Part of him just wants to wrap Spock up in a blanket and make him rest.
Most of all, he wants Spock to stop doing this.
“I get it,” Jim says finally. “You think it’s your job to be invincible. But it’s not. We’re a team. You get hurt, we deal with it—together.”
Spock nods, eyes fixed on a spot in the mud. “Understood.”
McCoy finishes sealing the wound, then sits back on his heels, shoulders sagging. “Next time, you say something. I don’t care if it’s just a paper cut.”
Spock raises an eyebrow. “That seems excessive.”
McCoy glares. “Say something.”
“Very well.”
Jim looks between them. They’re both soaked, dirty, bleeding, and exhausted. But somehow, they’re also...okay. In a weird, tangled, messy way.
Spock shifts slightly, not quite looking at either of them. “I apologize.”
McCoy sighs and leans back against a rock. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I know.”
“Still care about you, though.”
Spock nods. “I am...grateful.”
Jim smiles a little. “We all are. Even if you drive us insane.”
They sit there for a while, letting the silence soften. The jungle starts up again, full of strange bird calls and rustling trees. The river keeps moving, like it always does.
Jim leans back, shoulder brushing Spock’s. Spock doesn’t move away. On his other side, McCoy’s fingers tap lightly against his knee. No words. Just a small, grounding touch.
They’re bruised, but alive.
And more than that, they’re together.
Jim closes his eyes for a second and breathes. Deep. Easy. Real.
Whatever comes next, they’ll face it. Together.