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Leonard McCoy stared out of the viewport, watching the shuttle get smaller and smaller as it departed for Vulcan. Despite how much he claimed he couldn’t stand the man on it, there was no other explanation for the heaviness that settled in his chest. Spock was his friend.
And he would never see him again.
A mere hour ago, he had cornered the man in his quarters, the room stripped of its red curtains and countless artefacts.
“So you’re just going to run away?” McCoy had said, jabbing his finger at the Vulcan’s chest, watching him stand there tall and proud with his back straight and his hands behind his back.
“Kolinahr is an ancient Vulcan ritu—”
“Oh save that shit for someone else!”
There was a tense silence in the room, neither man willing to say what needed to be said. Spock was no coward. Nor was McCoy. But that didn’t stop the doctor from calling him one.
“Well if you’re too much of a coward to tell him, I will!”
McCoy had turned to leave—to run to Jim—but a hand closed itself around his wrist, grip tight.
“You cannot.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Let me leave with my dignity intact.”
A flash of a memory echoed through the doctor’s mind, of a moment—years ago now—when he had said “Vulcan dignity? How can I grant you what I don’t understand?”
But he understood now.
His hand fell from the door panel and he turned back to Spock. “You’ll break his heart, you know that?”
The Vulcan looked down at the floor by his desk. “The Captain has had many heartbreaks—”
“But none like this.”
Spock nodded slowly. “You have been a good… friend to me,” he said, the word foreign on his tongue. “I trust you will continue to be a good friend to Jim.”
And now here he was, standing beside the very same captain who’s face was almost pressed into the glass of the viewport, with a secret so large that it threatened to swallow him whole. Blue eyes tracked the shuttle, watching it disappear until it was nothing more than an indiscernible speck amongst a sky full of them.
“He’s gone, Bones,” Kirk whispered beside him. “He’s really gone.”
The captain’s voice was shaky, but the doctor refrained from commenting. What good would it do now?
“And all he could do was say ‘Captain’? And ‘Doctor’?” Kirk continued, face twisting into a scowl he didn’t mean. “Five year—Bones—five whole years and that’s all he can say?”
“He’s Vulcan, Jim.”
“Don’t give me that crap!” The devastated man paused to breathe, unable to help sneaking a glance out at the expanse before them, hoping that he would see the shuttle return. “You’ve seen him smile. You’ve seen him laugh. Even cry! Being Vulcan is no excuse for—for not saying goodbye.”
McCoy said nothing.
“We haven’t even been at Spacedock one day and he decides he’s leaving? He didn’t—he didn’t even ask how I—”
“How you would feel,” the doctor finished his sentence for him.
Kirk slumped into the sofa facing the viewport. For some time he simply stared into the space before them, eyes bright with unshed tears. McCoy sat beside him, leaving a respectable distance. He watched the side profile of the other man’s face, waiting for the agonising realisation he knew was coming.
“Oh god,” Kirk buried his head in his hands, sucking in a sharp breath. It came back out as a laugh. Or perhaps a sob? The doctor couldn’t tell. “Oh god, what have I done?”
“Jim—”
The captain threaded his fingers through his brown hair and pulled in frustration, a cry escaping from somewhere deep inside.
“Bones, I—I love him.”
The doctor closed his eyes, breathing out softly.
“I know.”
It was three days later, in the Bolian cafe on the promenade that Uhura brought out her PADD and the bag full of credits. Pulling up the meticulous list she kept, she began redistributing the credits.
“Chekhov, here’s your twenty.” The ensign pocketed them without comment.
“Sulu, you bet fifty that—” she stopped herself from reading the rest of the sentence, sliding five credits to him.
“Scotty, hundred.”
“Thanks.”
“McCoy, hundred.”
The doctor nodded and took his credits.
Once the bag was empty and everyone had their credits back, Chekhov spoke. More accurately, he muttered, but in the silence, everyone heard. “Should have bet that they vould both chicken out. I could have been as rich as the Tsars!”
No one laughed.
Especially not Scotty, who had bet that the five-year-mission would end with a half-Vulcan half-human wedding ceremony.
Finally, McCoy spoke. Being the closest to both subjects of the bet, he felt it was his duty to say a few words. “If it’s meant to be, they’ll find each other again.”
“But Mr Spock vent back to Vulcan forever!” Chekhov said.
“You never know,” Sulu turned to the youngest. “Maybe he’ll find that Kolinahr isn’t for him?”
On the fifth day, Jim barged into Bones’ quarters at Spacedock.
“I’m going to Vulcan.”
“You’re what?” asked the doctor, sitting up in bed, still half asleep.
“I’ve rented a shuttle and I’m going to Vulcan. I have to tell him, Bones.”
A flicker of warmth flared up in McCoy’s chest. Perhaps they had called the bet off too early? Maybe it would be like one of those ancient films where the character would rush to the airport to confess their love before the other person boarded the plane?
Bones chided himself inside for watching too many old relics for his own good. Though he had to admit, the situation was similar.
“When do we leave?” he asked.
“You’re coming?”
“Of course I am! I’m a doctor and I’m your best friend!”
“Good, I was hoping you’d say that,” the captain grinned. “We leave in twenty.”
“Goddammit Jim, you should’ve woken me up earlier! Given me some more time to pack at least!”
Despite his complaints about the rush, the two of them boarded the shuttle twenty one minutes later.
“The pointy-eared bastard would have called you out by the seconds on the chronometer.”
Jim graced his joke with a soft chuckle, though Bones could see he had poked at a wound that hadn’t quite healed.
They left Spacedock moments later, heading to Vulcan as fast as a shuttlecraft could take them.
By the time they arrived, touching down near the House of Sarek, it was the peak sunshine and heat of midday. Jim practically ran from the shuttle towards the house, only stopping when he reached the large stone door. Bones took his sweet time walking through the sand, arriving just as Amanda opened it.
“Captain Kirk!” she smiled. “And Doctor McCoy!”
“Good afternoon, Amanda,” Jim replied, suddenly aware that he was sweaty and his pants were covered with the sand he had kicked up. Bones nodded his own greeting, smiling to himself about how Jim looked like a teenager about to pick up their date.
“Please do come in,” Amanda motioned for them to enter. She led them to the sitting area. “I’m afraid you’ve just missed Sarek—I’ll bring you some tea.”
She bustled off to the kitchen leaving the two of them alone. Jim looked at Bones who shrugged back at him.
“She didn’t mention Spock,” Jim whispered.
McCoy shook his head, clueless. “Ask her when she comes back.”
Just then, Amanda returned with a tray laden with tea and biscuits and some sort of Vulcan dessert neither man had seen before.
“So what brings you to our home? Is Spock with you?” She sat down, glancing out of the window as though Spock would be exiting the shuttlecraft at any moment. Her face fell. “He’s not hurt, is he?”
Jim opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words.
“He’s fine,” Bones quickly jumped in, watching the relief flood over the mother’s face. “It’s just that… well, he left, a few days ago. Said he was coming back to Vulcan for something called Kolinahr. Does that mean anything to you?”
Amanda’s face paled.
“Kolinahr?” she whispered, putting down her teacup. She clasped her hands together, trying to stop the minute trembling that had just started. “Spock wouldn’t—he—he would have said something—”
Jim finally found his voice. “He said it was some sort of Vulcan emotion-purging ritual.”
Amanda’s eyes filled with tears but she quickly blinked them away. “That is one way of explaining it.”
“What does it do?” asked the doctor.
“It… it removes all emotion,” she began, “all attachment. Love, hate, everything in between. All gone. All that’s left after Kolinahr is pure logic.”
She said ‘logic’ like the word left a bad taste in her mouth.
The captain looked at Bones. “No love,” he whispered.
“None at all,” Amanda’s voice cracked. “Spock will be incapable of feeling love.”