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Chapter Text

Leonard joined Jim and Spock for an evening meal after an especially trying mission. They’d lost more of their away team than they should have, and everyone was feeling the loss.

Spock may have seemed neutral about it all to the untrained eye, but his quietness and far off look made it obvious that he was also grieving. Especially since one of the crew mates lost was Spock’s main protégée, Lia Munn, a Human woman of only 22 years. The two of them still had unfinished experiments in the lab, and it was up to Spock to either finish them or desert them. Knowing Spock, he’d likely finish them out anyway, but the vacancy left by Lia’s passing would be unforgettable.

It also didn’t help that it was pretty much avoidable. The explosion had been an accident caused by a simple mistake, just one number made all the difference. Those were the worst kinds of deaths, in Leonard’s opinion. The ones that could’ve been prevented if one more person had just checked in.

But they couldn’t dwell on what was done or not done, what mistakes were made. They could only learn and continue on. So as they quietly ate their meals, nobody brought up the preventability of their crew mate’s deaths. They simply discussed routine ship business in between companionable silences.

“Y’know,” Jim broke one of the silences, gesturing to his plate of casserole, “my mom used to make the best damned casseroles. Tuna casserole, bean casserole, tater tot casserole… you name it. The replicator’s not the best, but I can still taste home.”

“Nothin’ better than mama’s comfort food,” Leonard nodded, gesturing to his own dish. “Chicken fried steak breakfast for me. Certainly not the same as mom’s, but it’s a close second. I’m just glad I was able to tweak the replicator to add more spice to it. Was bland as beans before.”

They both looked to Spock, then, who was eating one of the same tofu and greens salads he usually ate.

“No comfort food, Spock?” Jim asked with a small frown.

“This salad is comforting enough,” Spock said dismissively.

“But you don’t have anything you like to eat that makes you feel just a teensy, little bit better about life?” Jim asked. “Something your mom used to make?”

Leonard kicked him under the table and he winced, but Spock either didn’t notice or didn’t care and said, “When I was young, my mother would make me plomeek soup after some… trying days. However, the replicator is inefficient at reproducing the dish. I believe she made her own modifications to it, and I do not know what they are.”

“Oh,” Jim said weakly, “I’m sorry, Spock.”

“It is alright, Jim,” Spock told him with an assuring nod.

Leonard shook his head, looking down at his food. That just wasn’t right. It was downright sad.

And as he lay in bed that night, Leonard couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized how much he took for granted the ability to eat a dish and be reminded of home, reminded of his mom. It was one thing that Spock’s mother was dead— which was awful, don’t get him wrong—, but to never taste something anywhere near what she used to cook…

It created a thick, hard knot in his gut that he couldn’t be rid of. It was more than just mourning a person. It was mourning comfort. It was mourning the feeling of being home, being loved, being cherished. And Spock deserved those things. Everyone did (except for murderers and pedophiles and the like, of course).

He tossed and turned deep into the night until he decided that sleep just wasn’t happening. Emboldened, he made his way to his desk. He turned on his computer and searched for thirty minutes before he found the contact information for Spock’s dad, Sarek. With his goal in mind, he wasted no time.

The older Vulcan man answered the call, his permanently neutral face appearing on the screen.

“Doctor McCoy, has something happened to my son?” Sarek asked.

“No, he’s doing just fine,” Leonard assured him quickly. He could only imagine how he looked to the other man, hair all mussed and bags under his eyes. “I was just wondering… do you happen to recall how Spock’s mother made plomeek soup?”

Sarek was silent for so long that Leonard was beginning to regret this whole thing, apologize, and end the call. Just as he opened his mouth, Sarek spoke.

“Amanda enjoyed adding rosemary,” he told him quietly, slowly. “She boiled the herbs and roots together for three hours before serving the dish, which made it quite unique compared to standard plomeek soup.”

Okay, rosemary was easy enough.

“And the plomeek roots…?”

“Destroyed with our planet,” Sarek said. “If any remain in the galaxy, I do not know of it.”

“I see,” Leonard said and bit his lip. “Thank you, Sarek. That’s all I wanted to know. I hope you take care, and I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It was no bother. Live long and prosper, Doctor McCoy.”

With that, the call ended. Leonard sat there silently, motionlessly, for several long moments.

No more plomeek roots? Anywhere in the galaxy? He shook his head, refusing to accept that. There had to be some plant nerds out there that still had some, somewhere.

He knew just who to ask.

 

The next day, he called Sulu to his office, who was wide-eyed and confused until Leonard assured him that he wasn’t actually there for an impromptu medical evaluation. Sulu sighed in relief and relaxed into the chair across from Leonard’s work desk.

“I want to make one thing clear right now,” Leonard said seriously, leaning forward in his seat, which made Sulu look slightly uncomfortable again. “Nothing said here leaves this office. You say nothing of this to Jim, or to Spock, not even your husband. Got it?”

“Uhh… got it…”

“Swear to God.”

“I don’t believe in God, Doctor.”

“Me neither. Now swear it.”

“I… swear to God.”

“Good,” Leonard nodded, took a deep breath, and leaned back in his seat. “Now, where can I find plomeek roots?”

Sulu blinked and his expression turned from looking like he was going to throw up to one of confusion. “Plomeek roots? Like the ones that used to grow on Vulcan?”

“The very same,” Leonard nodded.

“Well…” Sulu made a face of deep contemplation. “It wasn’t really… honestly, nobody really enjoyed the taste other than Vulcans. And it didn’t have particularly useful properties, aside from some nutritional value...”

“You can’t tell me that there’s no one out there who has any,” Leonard said flatly, not caring for any run-around.

Sulu’s face told him that it was a lost cause. But then he slid the chair closer and leaned forward and said quietly, “Between you and me, I have heard of one… source. But beyond telling you who they are, I’m afraid I can’t assist you.”

Leonard leaned forward as well and nodded, brows furrowed.

“Ferengi Laverna,” Sulu said, just a whisper. Leonard’s frown deepened and he leaned back.

“I see… You’re sure?”

“I’m positive, Doctor,” Sulu said with a resolute nod.

“Thank you, Sulu,” Leonard said. As Sulu got up to leave, he added, “And who will hear of this?”

Sulu half-smiled at him and answered, “No one. I swear to God.”

 

Well, this just got more complicated. Trading with the Ferengi was one thing, but the Ferengi Laverna… that had been outlawed by the Federation for decades. And for good reason— they provided certain goods and services that weren’t exactly ethical. Why they’d have plomeek roots along with their various date-rape drugs, hitmen for hire, and living children, Leonard might never know. But Sulu seemed positive they had them, so all Leonard could do was trust him.

This was when he finally decided he might’ve been a little over his head on this one. Come on, it was soup! Was he really going to be going through all this for a bowl of soup? He shook his head. Preposterous.

 

That evening, he was reviewing his calendar and upcoming schedule. His eyes lingered on a day a little over one month from now. February 11th, the day that Vulcan was destroyed. The day that Spock’s mother died. Leonard sighed and bit his lip.

His eyes then went to the words written on the date three days from now.

‘STARBASE 22-3 — MED & SCI SUPPLY PICK-UP’

Chapter Text

Despite what some may have thought, Leonard had tracked down ways to get illegal goods before. That had been during extended away missions where he had to sneak around to find rare medicinal herbs on less than advanced planets, but still. Some skills transferred over, right?

He wore something dark and unassuming to Starbase 22-3, certainly nothing that had a ‘fleet insignia on it. He sat in the corner of the bar and people-watched for a while. They were only stationed here for a couple days, so he didn’t have much time. He had to work fast.

Within a few hours, he began to notice some subtle hand movements used by some staff and patrons. Once he moved a little closer to the bartender, he noticed that these hand movements were accompanied by the patron ordering a Red Moon and asking where to find Seesai peppers on the Starbase. It took another couple of hours before Leonard got the balls to walk himself up to the bartender.

He didn’t even know if this would get him into contact with the Ferengi Laverna or if it’d get him a lap dance in a private room, but he had to give it a shot.

“What can I get ya?” The Andorian asked him good-naturedly as he shook a large tumbler.

Leonard casually scratched the side of his jaw with his index finger and said with all the confidence he could muster, “I’ll take a Red Moon, thanks.”

The Andorian blinked at him, seemingly shocked for all but a millisecond, before nodding with a smile and saying, “Of course! That’ll be seven credits.” Leonard wordlessly handed him his credit chip and said nothing more.

Once the bartender gave him his deep crimson beverage, Leonard asked casually, “Hey, any idea where I can find some Seesai peppers in this place?”

The Andorian eyed him before replying, “I believe they sell them down in Unit 90.”

Leonard thanked him and walked away, chugging his drink down fast before leaving— which he regretted, because it turned out it was both extremely alcoholic and extremely, painfully, spicy. He made his way to the turbolift and went down several decks, the alcohol hitting him a little harder than he’d liked.

The lift door opened to reveal a dimly lit corridor, looking much less polished than the rest of the base. The walls were lined with doors, and he went until he found the old, worn ‘90’ etched into one of them. His heart thumped loudly in his throat as he realized that if there was some secret knock or password required now, he was shit outta luck. He tried not to regret every one of his life decisions leading up to this point as he raised his fist to the door.

Leonard didn’t get to knock, however, because multiple people quickly emerged from the door behind him and covered his head with a dark sack, restrained him, and administered a hypo to his neck.

Then all his senses went out.

 

Leonard was jolted awake as he felt another hypo being removed from his neck. The sack was still over his head, and he quickly realized he was tied to a chair.

“Now why would a Starfleet dog be interested in contacting the Ferengi Laverna, hm?”

The growling voice was only inches from Leonard’s face. He gulped and tried to steel his nerves.

“Who said anything about Starfleet?” He said with a nervous chuckle, but was met with a swift punch across the face, knocking him and the chair over. He grunted in pain as he was picked back up and righted.

“Do not make me ask again.”

“Look, I only come here for one thing,” Leonard said, trying not to let his voice shake. He tasted blood. “And I come here as a friend, not a Starfleet officer.”

“A friend to whom? Certainly not us.”

“To a Vulcan. I’m here for plomeek roots.”

Silence. A very long silence. Leonard could only guess what was happening, it didn’t even sound like anyone was breathing.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard some shuffling and then felt a cold metal barrel press firmly against his temple.

“I said, Doctor, do not make me ask again.”

Leonard gulped hard, sweat beading on his forehead. They already knew exactly who he was, somehow. He could barely hear himself over his own heartbeat when he spoke next.

“I’m telling you the truth. Plomeek roots can’t be found anywhere after the destruction of Vulcan. I was told that y’all might have some.”

“Told by…?”

“I don’t know her name. She’s some dancer on Risa,” Leonard lied, praying they’d believe him.

“And what do you intend on doing with these plomeek roots, Doctor?”

“Make… soup…” Leonard said weakly, knowing how ridiculous he sounded. There was a chorus of laughter, and he realized there were at least a half dozen people in the room, not counting himself. The phaser was still digging into his temple.

“You expect us to believe you?”

Leonard took a shaky breath and asked, “Do you have a mother?”

Bad move. He was hit in the face with the butt end of the phaser, knocking him onto the cold metal floor again. His head rang from the impact and they got him sat up again.

“Do not speak of my blood, dog!”

He heard and felt himself getting spit on.

“Humans… we have comfort foods…” Leonard gritted out, his jaw and head throbbing with pain, “Food that mom made when we were young… reminds us of home, love…”

“And…?”

“With plomeek roots gone, with his mother dead… someone will never have that again…”

“This ‘someone’ is your Vulcan friend?”

“Yes.”

“He knows you are here?”

“No. No one knows I’m here. I swear to God.”

“There is no God.”

A hypo was pressed into his neck, and everything faded out again.

 

Leonard groaned as his senses slowly came back to him. He was lying on a cold metal floor, a big sack tied to his leg. He ignored the throbbing in his head and untied the sack to find…

Plomeek roots!!!

And at least a dozen of them. Despite the pains in his body, he grinned.

He made pained noises as he clambered to his feet. Clutching the sack, he made his way up to one of the main decks. He was sure to be battered and bruised, so hopefully nobody would notice him.

He spotted a vending machine and realized his mouth was dryer than it’d ever been in his life. He pulled out his credit chip and punched in the code for a water.

BEEP BEEP.

‘CREDIT CHIP DENIED: INSUFFICIENT FUNDS’

Leonard gaped. “Those bastards!”

Chapter Text

The following day, Leonard called Sulu back into his office. When he arrived, he sat with trepidation but didn’t look quite as ill as he had the time before.

“I have a question about plants, Mr. Sulu,” Leonard said as a way of greeting.

“Alright…” Sulu replied just slightly uncomfortably.

“Say someone did end up getting their hands on some plomeek roots… could they be cultivated here?”

Sulu’s shrugged and said, “If one was able to manage getting them, then sure. They’d just have to use a substrate mixture and an atmospheric chamber that mimicked the Vulcan desert… It could be done in the Botany Bay.”

“That easy, huh?” Leonard asked with a raised brow.

“The hard part is getting ahold of the roots. Cultivating them is, yes, pretty easy.”

“What if I’m less of a green thumb and more of a… serial-plant-killer?”

Sulu laughed and said, “Well, if you manage to find some, I can always take care of the cultivation part. But Doctor…” Sulu leaned forward and lowered his tone, “I don’t think it’s wise to even try getting them. Those people I told you about are dangerous—“

“I already did,” Leonard said, donning a smirk. Sulu gaped at him like a largemouth bass. He reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a sack. “Will this be enough?”

Sulu somehow looked even more shocked as he slowly pulled a root from the sack and turned it over in his hands.

“How…? No, don’t tell me… I… I can grow these for you, Doctor.”

“You sure?” Leonard eyed him. Sulu nodded voraciously.

“An opportunity to cultivate an endangered species? Hell yeah I’m sure!”

Leonard grinned.

Things seemed to be smooth sailing from there on out.

 

The next day, Sulu sent him an update that ‘Project PRC is progressing as expected.’ Leonard couldn’t help but feel a sense of giddiness throughout his shift.

Jim appeared in his office near the end of his workday, just as Leonard was getting ready to go. “What’s up, you wanna catch dinner?” Leonard asked, shutting down his computer and standing up.

“What have you been up to, Bones?” Jim asked from just inside the door, his arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“Uh, work?” Leonard frowned, confused.

His communicator chimed with a message, and when he read it he frowned even deeper.

‘Project PRC hit an unexpected obstacle. Chemical recalibration in process. Will keep you updated.’

“What’s that?” Jim asked, peering at his communicator.

Leonard closed the message and said, “Hm? Oh, nothing. Just some experiment.” He stood and started toward the door.

“What happened on Starbase 22-3, Bones?”

“We picked up supplies, didn’t we?” Leonard said evasively. He tried walking out the door, but Jim caught him firmly by the arm.

“This is serious, Bones,” Jim told him in a tone that was a mixture of concern and frustration. “I’ve been given orders to…” he shook his head and sighed before continuing, “I have to confine you to your quarters.”

“What?!”

“Be grateful, I had to bargain hard for that. It’s because of me you’re not in the brig right now.”

“But…” Leonard’s heart pounded. How would anyone have found out that he’d met with the Ferengi Laverna? He knew damn well Sulu hadn’t talked. The Andorian bartender? An unknown witness? Had the Ferengi Laverna themselves ousted him?

Jim jerked his head to the door and said, “C’mon.”

 

He paced around his quarters for hours. All of his technological devices had been removed, except for the food replicator. The door wouldn’t open to let him out. He had no way to communicate with anyone, even if he wanted to.

A couple days came and went, until his door opened without warning and four Security officers entered.

“Doctor McCoy, please come with us.”

He took a deep breath and followed them.

“Where are we going?” He asked, but nobody answered him.

They arrived at the Transporter Room and Leonard was all but manhandled onto one of the pads as he complained, “Get your hands off— I have rights, dammit!”

In an instant, they materialized inside a small empty room. They led him out the door, down some hallways, and into a courtroom.

A fucking. Courtroom.

“No way…” Leonard breathed out as he was ushered to the defendant stand. The lights suddenly seemed too bright.

There were three judges, Admiral Zhen, and various members of the crew present, including Jim, Spock, Nyota, Christine, and some others.

“Now that everyone’s here, we will begin the court proceedings,” Judge Mallory announced. Leonard’s mind was reeling, still trying to process what was happening. “Case number 03718892, The Federation v. Leonard Horatio McCoy.”

“Could I-?”

“Be silent, McCoy,” she shut him right back up. “Prosecution, make your opening argument.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” said a man Leonard didn’t recognize. He stood and addressed the room as he explained, “Leonard McCoy was seen in H’Pali’s Bar on Starbase 22-3 on 2259.21. During his time there, he initiated contact with Vatya Kaori, an Andorian bartender. If you will turn your attention to the screen,” he gestured to the large screen that showed video feedback for the court, “you will see that McCoy uses this hand gesture and speaks the multiple code words that are used to make contact with the Ferengi Laverna. You now see McCoy leaving the bar, taking the turbolift, and then arriving at Unit 90, where he makes contact with the Ferengi Laverna.”

Leonard forgot how to breathe as he watched himself get surrounded from behind, drugged, and carried off. The group that took him appeared to be two Ferengi and two Romulans. The feed shows them drag his limp body back into the turbolift.

“From here, McCoy and the Ferengi Laverna board a shuttle. Six hours later, the shuttle returns to the Starbase, and McCoy is then left on Deck 23 with an unknown parcel. McCoy proceeds to transport the parcel aboard the USS-Enterprise-A. The Federation seeks ten years of imprisonment for trading with the Ferengi Laverna, as well as an additional five years for purchasing illegal goods, and an additional five years for transporting illegal goods into a Federation vessel, to be served non-consecutively.”

Leonard blanched. Twenty years?! He looked over at Jim and Spock, who appeared very formal and weren’t looking back at him.

“Does the defendant have representation?” Judge Mallory asked. Leonard gulped. No, no he did not.

“Yes,” Spock’s voice said, and Leonard looked to see him standing and approaching. “I am Spock, First Officer and Chief Science Officer of the USS-Enterprise-A. I will be representing Leonard McCoy today.”

“We are aware that there has been no deliberation between you and the defendant,” Judge Mallory said to him. “Unfortunately, that is a privilege we cannot extend at this time, due to the nature of this case. Do you wish to proceed?”

“I do.”

“Very well. Prosecution, please call your first witness.”

The Andorian bartender Vatya entered and took the stand, and relayed the events that transpired with total transparency. Leonard wondered if he was an informant, or got a plea deal.

The next witness was someone he didn’t recognize, but turned out to be another patron from the bar who saw and heard his exchange with Vatya.

Leonard chanced a glance at Spock, but couldn’t glean anything except rigidness from the man.

The next witness was, to his surprise, Nyota.

“You intercepted multiple text communications from an unnamed party to Leonard McCoy on 2258.22, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“On screen.”

The screen showed the messages from Sulu. Leonard never thought ‘Project PRC’ and the vagueness of the messages looked so damning until now.

“Excuse me, why is the other party of these communications not present?” Admiral Zhen asked the judges.

“Upon investigation, there is no evidence that the other party participated in any illegal activity.”

“Then what’s the relevance of these messages?”

“They begin within 48 hours of McCoy’s exchange with the Ferengi Laverna, and speak to the secrecy of McCoy’s projects. The intentional vagueness—“

“I’m sorry, isn’t it just speculation, then, that these messages are somehow related?”

“Please dismiss Evidence A-12 and A-13 from the case, Mr. Jopran,” Judge Mallory decided. The prosecutor nodded.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“You are excused, Lieutenant Uhura.”

Leonard glanced again at Spock, who was now looking over at him with a neutral, steeled expression.

“Your Honors, Admiral,” Spock said, turning his attention to them, “I believe that deliberation at this point would be prudent, if—“

“Request denied. Prosecution, do you have any more witnesses?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Defendant Leonard Horatio McCoy to the stand.”

Leonard tried gulping down his trepidation, but it didn’t help. He sat at the witness stand, sweating.

“McCoy, you visited H’Pali’s Bar with the express purpose of making contact with the Ferengi Laverna, did you not?”

“I did, but—“

“And you carried out the motions to make contact with the Ferengi Laverna, including but not limited to at least one hand gesture and at least two code words, correct?”

“Yes, but—“

“And you did have both a verbal and a transactional exchange with the Ferengi Laverna, correct?”

“Yes, I—“

“Please turn your attention to the screen, which shows McCoy’s credit balance before and after meeting with the Ferengi Laverna.”

They all looked at the screen to see that McCoy’s balance had gone from a modest amount to zero.

“McCoy, you then transported these illegal goods to the USS-Enterprise-A, correct?”

“… No.”

“McCoy, you— excuse me? Did you say no?”

“They weren’t illegal goods.”

“McCoy, are you aware that anything bought from the Ferengi Laverna are illegal goods?”

“Even food?”

“It is a yes or no question, McCoy.”

Leonard sighed. “Yes.”

“So I will ask again: did you, or did you not, transport illegal goods aboard the USS-Enterprise-A?”

“I… did.”

The prosecutor nodded and said, “I rest my case.”

“Spock, you may begin your line of questioning.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Spock approached Leonard at the witness stand.

“McCoy, how long have you been practicing medicine?”

“Objection, relevance,” Mr. Jopran called out.

“Sustained.”

Spock’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly.

“McCoy, how long have you been serving aboard the Enterprise?”

“Objection, relevance.”

“Sustained. Spock, this is your final warning to keep your questions relevant to this case.”

“I believe it necessary to establish that McCoy has not only upheld a flawless civil record—“

“Objection!”

“—and has committed no crimes in the fifteen years that—“

“Objection, Your Honor!”

“— and has contributed to the preservation of millions of lives—“

“Spock, silence yourself before I hold you in contempt!” Judge Mallory scolded him. Spock clenched his jaw. “If you cannot provide a proper line of questioning, then we can move forward to the deliberation of sentencing.”

“McCoy, what goods did you purchase from the Ferengi Laverna?” Spock asked, turning back to Leonard.

“Objection, relevance.”

“… Overruled.”

“Your Honor, the contents of the goods hardly matter if they were purchased from—“

“Overruled, Jopran!”

“McCoy?” Spock pressed, encouraging him to answer the question.

“Plomeek roots.”

Spock blinked at him.

“You… purchased plomeek roots from the Ferengi Laverna?”

“I did.”

“McCoy,” said Judge Thompson, “May I remind you that perjury will only add time to your sentence?”

“I’m not perjuring, Your Honor.”

“Are you able to provide any evidence that plomeek roots are what you purchased from the Ferengi Laverna?”

Leonard gnawed on his lip before looking up at Spock and saying, “Sulu.”

Spock turned to the judges and said, “Your Honors, I would like to request that Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu join us in court.”

The judges whispered to each other before Judge Mallory turned back to Spock and said, “Granted. Bailiff?”

“On it, Your Honor,” the bailiff said as she pulled out her communicator and left the courtroom.

“McCoy, you may return to your seat.”

Leonard and Spock took their places at the defendant’s table once more.

After several painstakingly long and silent minutes, Sulu was escorted into the courtroom. Upon meeting his eyes, Leonard gave him an apologetic look. Sulu took the witness stand, and Spock approached him.

“Sulu, were you aware that McCoy had either planned to, or carried out action to, make contact with the Ferengi Laverna?”

“Yes,” Sulu answered, seeming more calm than he had any right to be, really.

“And when did you become aware of this?”

“On stardate 2259.08.”

“Could you relay, to the best of your memory, the conversation that took place between the two of you, that led to you learning of McCoy’s plan to contact the Ferengi Laverna?”

“Doctor McCoy asked me if I knew of any way to get ahold of plomeek roots. I told him that the only source I knew of was the Ferengi Laverna.”

“How did you know they would have plomeek roots, Mr. Sulu?” Judge Thompson asked.

“I virtually attended the annual conference for the Horticulturist’s Association of Edible Plant Preservation on 2258.67. During the conference, they discussed the destruction of planet Vulcan and the resulting extinction and endangerment of a variety of edible plants, including plomeek. They had mentioned a report made by the Vulcan High Council in 2257.83 that the Ferengi Laverna infiltrated the city of ShiKhar and stole various goods and artifacts, including stores of plomeek roots, among other foods. At the time of the conference, the Ferengi Laverna were the only known people to still have any.”

“Are you aware for what purpose McCoy had sought out plomeek roots?” Spock asked.

“Objection, Your Honors!”

“Overruled.”

“He seemed interested in having them cultivated, and I offered my help. So we started Project PRC.”

“What does ‘PRC’ stand for, Sulu?” Spock asked.

“Plomeek Root Cultivation…” Sulu smiled sheepishly. “Not very creative, I know.”

“The text messages!” Admiral Zhen exclaimed, his arms spread wide. “So they were relevant?”

“Perhaps,” Judge Mallory said.

The judges looked amongst themselves before Judge Thompson announced, “We will now deliberate for sentencing. You will be called back once we have made our decision.”

“Your Honors—“

“Spock.” Judge Mallory gave him a stern look, and he clenched his jaw and nodded.

Leonard was led to a small room, empty save for some chairs. Spock joined him and they sat facing each other.

“Sorry,” Leonard offered, looking over at him. He was staring at him with an indiscernible expression.

“You broke the law, Leonard,” he said, and Leonard was shocked at the use of his first name. He nodded.

“I know.”

“The Ferengi Laverna is a highly dangerous organization,” he continued. “You are fortunate to be alive.”

“You don’t gotta tell me that,” Leonard replied, remembering the assault and the phaser pressed to his head.

“You risked your life for roots, Leonard.”

“It’s… it was more than that, Spock.”

The door opened and they were told to return to the courtroom. Leonard frowned at Spock.

“So quick… is that good or bad?”

“Typically… it is bad.”

Leonard breathed deep and forced his legs to carry him back into the large, daunting room. Once everyone had returned, Judge Mallory spoke.

“All rise for the sentencing of the defendant.” She waited a few moments until the shuffling stopped. “In the case of the Federation v. Leonard Horatio McCoy, the court is ordering ten years of community service, to be served at his post held prior to these proceedings. The court is adjourned.”

The three judges slammed their gavels, and Leonard could hardly hear the prosecutor’s protests to the sentence. People began to leave, but he was petrified, glued in place. Spock grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the courtroom.

Leonard was being spoken to, but he couldn’t hear. He barely registered his surroundings. Spock put his hand under his chin and lifted his head to look at him.

“Leonard, do you understand your sentence?” He asked. Leonard blinked.

“I… I think so…”

“It is ten years as CMO aboard the Enterprise with no pay.”

Leonard finally took a real breath in what felt like eons.

“Is it too late to ask for prison?” He asked with a smile, and the corner of Spock’s mouth turned up.

Chapter Text

The days following Leonard’s trial were a little awkward, as he was apologized to by several crew mates while he apologized to them back. He knew he messed up, he did.

Did he feel guilty about it? Well… Not getting paid wouldn’t be great, but in the modern world his necessities costed nothing. He grew up a poor farm boy, he’d survive. He would miss having some disposable income for shore leaves, though.

So no, he didn’t really feel guilty.

Turned out the third, silent judge on the panel was a high ranking member of the Horticulturalist’s Association of Edible Plant Preservation, and pushed for a lenient sentence due to the significance of the Federation being able to cultivate the endangered plant. He must’ve been pretty convincing if Leonard was able to get out of there with what felt like a slap on the wrist.

Once things settled down, Leonard took to noticing how Spock tended to treat him now. He seemed… softer, in a way. He also became very involved in Project PRC, which gave them something to talk about.

Things were only awkward with Jim, who hadn’t said much to him after the trial, and seemed to have been avoiding him.

That was, until he came to Leonard’s door one evening with a bottle of bourbon, asking, “Drinks?”

Leonard smiled and let him in, grabbed some whiskey glasses, and joined him at the table. Jim poured them a couple shots and they downed them silently.

Then he said, “I’m sorry, Bones… I—“

“I know, Jim,” Leonard reached across the table and patted his friend’s wrist. “You did good, I’m not mad at ya.”

Jim breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’m so, so happy you’re here. And not…”

“Me too,” Leonard said as he poured them another round, and they drank.

“Spock was gunning for you hard, you know,” Jim said with a smile. “At first he was convinced that you were being set up. Once we saw the evidence… well, he still wanted to defend you. He was absolutely livid when we couldn’t find you any legal representation, nobody would take your case. He about tore the last guy we talked to a new one.” He chuckled.

“I’m surprised. He’s usually a stickler for the rules,” Leonard said.

“I was surprised too. He must’ve had a gut feeling.”

They smiled at each other.

 

After some weeks, Sulu gave him the fruits (well, roots) of their first harvest. He also told him that the Federation was lucky that they gave him a lenient sentence, because word around the plant-lover and environmental activist communities was that massive protests would have been organized if he’d gone to prison. So in the end, it was a win-win-win.

Sulu also said, “I’m sorry, by the way. I know our conversations were supposed to stay in your office, and I swore to God for it—“

“It’s fine, Sulu. Neither of us believe in the guy anyway.”

 

And so on the anniversary of the death of Vulcan and Spock’s mother, Leonard had prepared the rosemary and roots in his barely-functional kitchen, and set the timer to boil them for three hours. He anxiously waited, and it seemed to take forever…

 

And ever…

 

And ever…

 

beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep—

He stopped the timer and bounded over to the pot, which was actually smelling pretty good. He turned off the heat and sent Spock a quick text message to meet in his quarters. He made plenty with the desperate wish that it turned out alright, so he portioned out some to be eaten soon and some to freeze.

He set the table with two bowls of soup and some water, and his door chimed. Leonard’s heart was nearly leaping from his chest as he went to the door. He took some deep breaths, trying not to look or feel as anxious and excited as he did, and opened the door.

“Good evening, Doctor,” Spock greeted him neutrally. “You requested that I—“ he stopped, frowning ever so slightly and glancing over Leonard’s shoulder. “What… are you cooking?”

Leonard jerked his head toward the table and said with a half smile, “Come see.”

Spock followed him in and stopped short once he saw the bowls of dark soup on the table. Leonard pushed him over to a chair, and he sat. Leonard sat across from him.

Spock seemed completely, utterly flabbergasted as he looked down at the bowl in front of him. Then he looked up at him and asked quietly, “What… is this?”

“Comfort food, I hope,” Leonard told him. “Try it.”

Spock looked back down, hesitantly picked up the spoon, and slowly lifted a small bite to his mouth. Leonard eyed him for any reaction, but there was none, and Spock set his spoon back down.

“Not good?” Leonard frowned, worried to death he’d just made some horrible mistake.

“Leonard…” Spock said slowly, looking him in the eye. “This is not the reason why you procured the plomeek roots in the first place, is it?”

“I mean… yeah?” Leonard said, feeling both anxious and defensive. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you never being able to eat it again. I couldn’t stop thinking about it… so I did something about it.”

“And the Federation now being able to cultivate the roots?”

“A pleasant bonus, but admittedly that wasn’t my initial goal.”

“How did you know what to put in it?”

“I called your dad.” Leonard smiled sheepishly.

Spock said nothing then, and looked back down at the bowl. After several long moments, he said, “It is very good, Leonard. It… it tastes just like my mother’s.”

Leonard smiled, his cheeks warm and his heart thumping wildly. Spock picked up his spoon and continued to eat, so Leonard decided he would too.

“Yeah, not bad,” he said with an approving nod after tasting it.

“Not bad?” Spock asked with a raised brow.

“It’s good,” Leonard corrected, and Spock nodded.

They ate in silence until it was all gone. Leonard stood and brought the bowls over to his sink.

“I froze some too if you want to take some back to yours. I’m not sure if it heats up well after being frozen, but it’s soup so I imagine it would be—“

He stopped talking when he realized Spock had followed him to the sink. He set down the bowls and turned to him, and Spock pulled him into a tight hug. Leonard was shocked for only a moment before he wrapped his arms around the other man. His heart was pounding even harder now, as if it yearned to leap from his body and into Spock’s.

They eventually pulled themselves apart, and Leonard didn’t have time to be embarrassed about how deeply he was blushing, because Spock leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

Leonard wasn’t expecting this, but it felt so good, and so right. He kissed him back tenderly, gently running his fingers through his hair.

When they finally separated, Spock said quietly, “Thank you, Leonard.”

Leonard smiled, nodded, and replied, “Any time, Spock.”

Spock squeezed his arm one last time and went to leave.

“You don’t wanna take some back with you?” Leonard asked.

Spock stopped, turned half way to him and said, “I would prefer it if you cooked for me again, soon.”

Leonard smiled.

“I’d prefer that too.”