Work Text:
Spock awakens with a start.
It takes him a moment to orient himself, to remember where he is. His childhood bedroom on Vulcan.
Not the Warp Core.
His heart pounds in his side, and he tries to count the beats. Tries to slow it. He’s not as good at these things as he was before. He’s had to start over. Relearn.
It only takes ninety-seven pulses of his heart before the door slides open and a crack of light shines in from the hallway. He isn’t surprised to see Dr. McCoy step into the room. Even less surprised to see him cross the space and sit on the edge of the bed.
“I’m here, Spock.”
When Spock doesn’t speak, McCoy picks up his hand–shaking, Spock notices–and holds it in between both of his own. The warmth is comforting. Grounding. From anyone else, the influx of emotions would be too much. But he can already feel McCoy in his head, and so the extra contact is welcome.
“It’s over.” McCoy’s voice is soft. Familiar. Spock’s heartbeat slows. “It’s not gonna happen again.”
“It will,” Spock corrects. His voice is hoarse. It would be an embarrassment in front of anyone else. “Someday, Doctor, I will die.”
McCoy hums. He shifts on the bed. His thumb strokes along the back of Spock’s hand. “Is it really the dying part that scares you?”
They both know the answer. Spock says it anyway. “No.”
McCoy nods. He’s not looking at Spock anymore–his eyes are on the way their hands are pressed together. “You’ve been through things no one else has ever experienced. Things no one else can understand.”
“With one exception.”
McCoy chuckles, and Spock’s heart slows further. “Yeah. With one exception. But that exception proves I’m right, doesn’t it? I understand. I know, Spock. Close your eyes.”
Spock does as he’s told. He lets his eyes fall closed. And for a moment, there’s only the Warp Core in the space behind his lids–glass separating him from everyone he’s ever cared about. But through that he can feel the steady reassurance from two sources–the bond in his mind, the hands holding his. And the image fades away. Comfort takes its place. Familiarity. Trust.
Spock’s heart slows to its normal resting rate, and he finds it easy to take one deep, slow, breath. When he finds the strength to open his eyes again, he finds McCoy smiling at him.
“You’re not gonna be alone anymore, Spock. Never again. I’ll make damn sure of that.”