Fic: Forgetting Methuselah
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Rating: G
Pairings: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: A re-write of the events of 'Requiem for Methuselah'.
Forgetting Methuselah
“Goodnight, Doctor.”
As Doctor McCoy left the room Spock remained standing there and thoroughly confused. He looked once more at Jim, asleep at his desk. He didn’t understand why they were still like this. They were both interested and he thought that was clear to both of them. He was the best friend his captain should realize was right for him after all. Yet now he was mourning over a woman, really an android, he had spent less than 3.8 standard hours with. While he and McCoy are the two who resolve sexual tension through arguments and teasing, ‘dipping girl’s curls in inkwells’ as Jim had said long ago. Why they have remained at such an impasse as well was a mystery for the ages.
He cared for Jim still though and he wanted to help him. The doctor was right, love drove men to do very strange things indeed Spock thought as he went towards Jim. As he put his hand against Jim’s face Jim suddenly snapped awake.
Spock stepped back but Jim turned on him throwing back his chair in fury and Spock backed up against the wall.
“Strike me.”
Spock barely felt the blow to his face.
“Strike me!”
The hand hit harder this time and then a third time. The forth time the world spun and Spock’s eyes flew open to see the sterile walls of the sickbay. He saw McCoy with his arm in the air and felt Jim’s hands around his arms as he held him steady on the biobed.
“Take it easy, that Vulcan trance almost wasn’t enough to save you this time,” McCoy said, as he picked up a cup and held it to Spock lips.
As he drank greedily from the cup Spock tried to make observations and determine his status. His skin felt grimy from drying sweat, his throat was still dry, despite the water, and his body felt heavy and slow. He reached up one hand, rubbing it along the swollen glands of his throat.
“The swelling will go down in the next few hours, Spock,” McCoy said.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We were successful in retrieving the ryetalyn and processing it for the antidote,” Jim said, and Spock noticed that he wasn’t letting go of his arms.
“The rest of crew has already been released. With your similarity to Rigilain physiology I should have known it would hit you harder than the rest of us,” McCoy continued.
So, he had taken ill, but events still didn’t tally.
“What about Flint?”
McCoy glared at him. “We didn’t have time to check out the geological landscape, Spock!”
Spock raised both eyebrows in confusion.
“There was no humanoid on the planet?”
McCoy frowned and put a hand against Spock’s forehead. “Must have hit you harder than I thought.”
“Spock, what’s the last thing you remember?” Jim asked.
Because they were taking care of him and quite clingy Spock reasoned that being lectured and getting slapped by them was probably not the best answer he could give.
“Beaming down,” he said at last.
Jim’s grip tightened on Spock's arms. “Spock, you never came down with us. You passed out in the transporter room.”
“I must have dreamed going down with you then. There was man there...with a woman. He said he was immortal, all the great men of your Earth history.”
McCoy smiled and sat down next to Spock putting one hand over his. “Well fever dreams certainly aren’t known for their logic.”
“Obviously.”
McCoy chuckled leaned against him and kissed his cheek.
Jim moved his arms to wrap around Spock’s chest and let his head rest on his shoulder. “You had us worried you know.”
Spock nodded as the images of Flint and Rayna slowly began to fade away. None of that was real. They, Jim, McCoy and himself, were together in the real world, they were…happy.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jim asked.
“It was a strange dream and yet it felt so real. You fell in love with that…woman.”
“You were very sick, Spock, I wouldn’t dwell on it.”
“Dreams can often be the subconscious mind’s way of working through an issue in reality I-”
McCoy cut him off. “Spock, not everything needs to be analyzed to death. We love you and came this close to losing you today, so would you be kind enough to shut up and just let us indulge?”
Spock did.
The End
Rating: G
Pairings: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: A re-write of the events of 'Requiem for Methuselah'.
Forgetting Methuselah
“Goodnight, Doctor.”
As Doctor McCoy left the room Spock remained standing there and thoroughly confused. He looked once more at Jim, asleep at his desk. He didn’t understand why they were still like this. They were both interested and he thought that was clear to both of them. He was the best friend his captain should realize was right for him after all. Yet now he was mourning over a woman, really an android, he had spent less than 3.8 standard hours with. While he and McCoy are the two who resolve sexual tension through arguments and teasing, ‘dipping girl’s curls in inkwells’ as Jim had said long ago. Why they have remained at such an impasse as well was a mystery for the ages.
He cared for Jim still though and he wanted to help him. The doctor was right, love drove men to do very strange things indeed Spock thought as he went towards Jim. As he put his hand against Jim’s face Jim suddenly snapped awake.
Spock stepped back but Jim turned on him throwing back his chair in fury and Spock backed up against the wall.
“Strike me.”
Spock barely felt the blow to his face.
“Strike me!”
The hand hit harder this time and then a third time. The forth time the world spun and Spock’s eyes flew open to see the sterile walls of the sickbay. He saw McCoy with his arm in the air and felt Jim’s hands around his arms as he held him steady on the biobed.
“Take it easy, that Vulcan trance almost wasn’t enough to save you this time,” McCoy said, as he picked up a cup and held it to Spock lips.
As he drank greedily from the cup Spock tried to make observations and determine his status. His skin felt grimy from drying sweat, his throat was still dry, despite the water, and his body felt heavy and slow. He reached up one hand, rubbing it along the swollen glands of his throat.
“The swelling will go down in the next few hours, Spock,” McCoy said.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We were successful in retrieving the ryetalyn and processing it for the antidote,” Jim said, and Spock noticed that he wasn’t letting go of his arms.
“The rest of crew has already been released. With your similarity to Rigilain physiology I should have known it would hit you harder than the rest of us,” McCoy continued.
So, he had taken ill, but events still didn’t tally.
“What about Flint?”
McCoy glared at him. “We didn’t have time to check out the geological landscape, Spock!”
Spock raised both eyebrows in confusion.
“There was no humanoid on the planet?”
McCoy frowned and put a hand against Spock’s forehead. “Must have hit you harder than I thought.”
“Spock, what’s the last thing you remember?” Jim asked.
Because they were taking care of him and quite clingy Spock reasoned that being lectured and getting slapped by them was probably not the best answer he could give.
“Beaming down,” he said at last.
Jim’s grip tightened on Spock's arms. “Spock, you never came down with us. You passed out in the transporter room.”
“I must have dreamed going down with you then. There was man there...with a woman. He said he was immortal, all the great men of your Earth history.”
McCoy smiled and sat down next to Spock putting one hand over his. “Well fever dreams certainly aren’t known for their logic.”
“Obviously.”
McCoy chuckled leaned against him and kissed his cheek.
Jim moved his arms to wrap around Spock’s chest and let his head rest on his shoulder. “You had us worried you know.”
Spock nodded as the images of Flint and Rayna slowly began to fade away. None of that was real. They, Jim, McCoy and himself, were together in the real world, they were…happy.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jim asked.
“It was a strange dream and yet it felt so real. You fell in love with that…woman.”
“You were very sick, Spock, I wouldn’t dwell on it.”
“Dreams can often be the subconscious mind’s way of working through an issue in reality I-”
McCoy cut him off. “Spock, not everything needs to be analyzed to death. We love you and came this close to losing you today, so would you be kind enough to shut up and just let us indulge?”
Spock did.
The End