...Who Did Not Pick the Flowers by the Roadside (5/5)
Title: ...Who Did Not Pick the Flowers by the Roadside (5/5)
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Summary: After returning from the mirror universe, McCoy is facing the consequences of the meld forced on him by the other Spock, and Kirk is failing to be helpful.
Word count: 6875
The day passed slowly. Kirk spent it on the bridge, staring off into space and avoiding all but the absolutely necessary contact with the skeleton staff around him. He was waiting for his shift to be over, but every time he checked the time, convinced that hours had passed since the last time he did it, he found that in fact it were only minutes. And not very many of them.
He didn’t even know why he wanted his shift to be over. There was nothing for him to do. He’d just sit in his quarters and stare off into space there. What a change!
His last night had passed pretty much like that. After talking to Spock, he had been unable to sleep, to read, to view reports or even to think. He didn’t want to think. Yet his mind didn’t seem to want anything else.
He checked the time again. In two hours, the Enterprise would leave Starbase Six, and perhaps he was lucky and they’d run into Romulans, or hallucinogenic energy rays that made the crew go mad and kill each other. It seemed like a nice alternative to all this staring into space right now.
Alternatively, he could kill time by going back to sickbay and…
No. That wouldn’t help at all. Staring at Bones would not miraculously heal him, and currently Kirk had no desire at all to see anyone who knew about him and Bones. And all of those were currently in sickbay. It made going there a very bad idea.
He was glad Spock was not here at the moment. Kirk knew that logically, Spock would have to come to the conclusion that the captain was right: he couldn’t help Bones and would make things worse by trying. But Kirk still felt that after everything he had said and done in just the last couple of days, he had made an utter ass of himself - or at least successfully given the impression of being one.
It was hardly fair to blame him for not feeling the right way about Bones. Feelings couldn’t be forced. They couldn’t even blame him for getting involved with his friend when he didn’t love him. There was no law against relationships like theirs. It even had its very own name.
And it wasn’t like Bones hadn’t known what he was getting into. In fact, Kirk had always thought that his friend saw this whole thing as shallowly as he himself did.
The fact that apparently he didn’t made Kirk feel awful without anyone telling him to. And that made him angry, at himself, at everyone, and mostly at Bones. He had no reason to feel this way, as if everything was his fault.
Especially since, no matter what his own feelings were, Bones had known all along that Kirk was in it for the sex. And there wasn’t even an ‘it’ to speak of, just the occasional meeting when they were both bored and horny.
Except, looking back, it had always been Kirk coming to Bones who sometimes was more eager than at other times but never, ever said no.
But why would he? Kirk didn’t come often. Only when there was no one else to go to.
Seen from his perspective, it was obvious why Kirk didn’t look too good in this regard.
He groaned inwardly. He really, really didn’t want to think about this. It was pointless. It had never been any different. Bones could not have thought it would ever get any different. He’d still agreed with it and that made it his own fault if the situation had hurt him.
Kirk could go over it again and again, and he would always find arguments to excuse himself. And they never made him feel any better.
What he felt most guilty about, though, was that he could not help his friend. He had only a vague idea of what Spock had asked of him, but it was enough to know that Spock could somehow make Bones know how he felt for him. And if Kirk loved him, really loved him, more than anyone else in the world, it might give Bones the strength to fight and survive. Kirk knew he could not be blamed for not feeling this way, but he felt guilty anyway.
There was no doubt that he cared for Bones, as a friend. On that level, Kirk loved him unconditionally. But he was not more important to him than Spock, or his ship. All Bones could get from this was confirmation that if he died, someone or something else would fill the gab.
Which, of course, wasn’t true. Bones was quiet unique - just like Spock or the Enterprise. No one could ever replace him, and as a friend, Kirk would always miss him. But if he had understood Spock correctly, it would all be twisted to something else by Bones’ wounded mind.
Which was why he couldn’t even try. They had to find someone who simply loved McCoy as much as he needed to be loved. It had to be enough for both of them, as obviously at the moment Bones was not able to love himself.
There would be someone like that on the ship. Everyone liked Bones, despite his grumpy way, even if few admitted it. Among the four-hundred fifty men and women on the ship there had to be at least one who was romantically interested in him.
Romantically interested. Now he sounded like Spock.
It was sad that something that clinically sounding should have more power over McCoy than Kirk’s friendship. Just the thought of losing him was breaking his heart.
The captain pressed his lips together. He really, really shouldn’t think of this all the time. Because he was on the bridge, seen by everyone, and it wouldn’t do if they saw him break down with grief.
Spock would find someone to save Bones. There was no doubt about it, and so there was no reason to grieve.
He could tell himself this a hundred times, and a part of him would still not be able to believe it.
It was the same part that felt like he was betraying Bones by being here, doing his job like nothing was going on. Like he wasn’t going to lose his goddamn best friend.
He could do with Bones’ advice right now. Or even a glass of Bones’ brandy. Instead he had three hours of bridge-sentence left and the very same thought to face over and over again.
Uhura was looking at him. Kirk noted it out of the corner of his eye and glared at her, certain she was judging him as well.
“You’ve got something to say, Lieutenant?” he snapped, and only when he saw her taken-aback expression did he remember that she didn’t even know what was going on. She might have heard that Doctor McCoy was ill. That was all. She didn’t know about their non-existent relationship, or the attack of the other Spock, or that Bones was going to die.
“I’m sorry,” he said, offering a weak smile. “I’ve had a rough night.”
She smiled in return, a lot more believable than him. “No need to apologize, Captain. I was thinking you looked tired. Perhaps you should take a break. Did you even have lunch today?”
Now she mentioned it, he hadn’t. He wasn’t hungry, though. The mere thought of eating made him sick.
“No,” he said none-the-less. “I think I’ll go get some. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Kirk left quickly, but the moment the doors of the lift closed after him, he stopped. For half a minute he stared at nothing, unable to give the computer a deck to take him to.
In the end, he locked himself in his quarters. It did not change anything about the unbidden thoughts that kept going through his head, but at least here no one would watch him thinking.
-
Spock spent all day with McCoy, watching over his condition and thinking. He knew he could not force the captain to try and help their friend - for it to have the desired effect, Kirk had to do it out of his own will. He also knew that Kirk was the only one who could do it. If he did not accept Spock’s words as true in time, McCoy would be lost.
Kirk would never forgive himself if that happened. Eventually, it might destroy him. Spock knew that he was at risk of losing the two friends closest to him, but it was out of his power to help. There was nothing more he could do. Everything else depended on Jim Kirk.
Spock had no doubt his friend would eventually realise the truth. He could only hope it happened before it was too late.
Doctor M’Benga entered to check on his colleague. Sighing, he ran a hand through the unconscious man’s hair. It was a pointless gesture, as McCoy couldn’t feel it, but Spock had found long ago that gestures like this were an important part of human interaction. His mother also was prone to them, even if she had mostly refrained from such things from the time he reached adolescence. For the first time he found himself wondering if she missed these illogical human contacts, living on a world were no one but her considered them necessary.
A strange time to think about it. Spock pushed the thought away.
“Do you really believe the captain can help?” M’Benga asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not convinced. I mean no disrespect, but Captain Kirk is not…” the doctor trailed off, perhaps unable to formulate his thought in a way that would not seem disrespectful.
“It has to be the captain,” Spock said matter-of-factly. M’Benga turned to look at him.
“Alright. I’m not going to discuss this with you. Doubtlessly, you know McCoy’s feelings better than I do. But I have my doubts about Kirk. What makes you so certain? No offense, Spock, but perhaps you are not the best judge of human emotions and motivations.”
“You should know that this observation does not offend me,” Spock said calmly “It is accurate, in general. Bur I know the captain very well, as I do McCoy. I am certain from the data I received that I made no error in judgement. However,” he added, “knowing the captain as I do, I know he can be incredibly stubborn. It might cause him to need too long to accept the truth I have already recognized.”
“Can’t you talk to him about it? We’re kind of short on time here.”
“No. I already did all I could. The rest is up to him.”
-
The Enterprise left the starbase at the scheduled time. Everything went smoothly. Neither Klingons nor Romulans nor man-eating gelatinous blobs attacked. There were just stars on the screen, passing them in silence, the basic crew on their stations and no one standing behind the captain’s chair. No one at the science station either. It was understandable - there was nothing scientific going on. Still, Spock’s absence was a notable difference.
Kirk still didn’t want to see him. He most certainly didn’t want to talk to him. Still, eventually he would have to call and ask if he had been able to help Bones yet.
Actually, he did not. If anything had changed for the better or the worse, Spock would have told him.
An hour after they resumed their journey, Kirk left the bridge anyway and headed for sickbay.
He never got there. Halfway down the hall he changed direction and eventually ended up on the observation deck. It was empty but for him, something for which he was very grateful.
The stars outside had no advice to give him. They were just there. Usually, that was enough.
Not today.
It was always the same: The more he tried not to think about something, the more he ended up doing just that. And as much as he tried not to think about it, he could never completely forget that he was about to lose Bones. It made him want to scream, or hit the wall, or do anything, anything else to relieve the pressure that seemed to tear him apart from the inside.
And he couldn’t even imagine it. For so long, Bones had been a part of his life that losing him would be like losing a part of himself. What kind of captain would he be without Bones being there to tell him what he needed to be told?
Kirk sighed, and balled his hands to fists in frustration. He couldn’t run from this. It would catch up with him, if not now then at least when someone told him that Doctor McCoy had died because they couldn’t find anyone to save him. And he already knew that he would never forgive himself for that. Even if he could do nothing to help - a part of him would always wonder.
It was the same part he was trying so hard no to listen to.
There was a nebula in the distance, bright and colourful, birthplace of new stars. Kirk looked at it without really seeing it.
Not thinking about it had not solved the problem. It had not even helped him forget the problem because not thinking about it in general didn’t work. Perhaps he should finally gather his courage and face what was going on. If his thoughts wanted to circle around Bones, perhaps he should let them.
Especially since he could never shut out the feeling that he was quickly running out of time. Maybe there was something, anything he could do, after all, and he didn’t want to be to blame for his best friend’s death because he was too ashamed to think about saving him.
Ashamed. Now, where did that come from? Thinking about it, Kirk found that indeed he was. He just couldn’t tell why.
But he thought he might get an idea when he tried to imagine the opposite case: That Spock found someone who loved Bones enough to save him, and Bones came back for that person because he suddenly realised that he loved them too, not Kirk. Which should be fine, because Kirk didn’t love him either and it just made everyone project a responsibility on him he didn’t want. Everyone but Bones, of course, who never expected anything in return.
And once Bones’ perfect match had been found, they lived happily ever after together, because that was how stories like this inevitably ended. That sounded fine. Everyone would be happy and for Kirk things would get a lot easier, and otherwise nothing between him and Bones would change at all, except that they wouldn’t have sex anymore - a sacrifice Kirk was willing to make for his friend’s survival.
He found he didn’t like this potential ending at all. Yet this was another thing he didn’t want to think about, because he feared that he wouldn’t like his reasons for that either, should he ever figure them out.
-
Even though M’Benga had long since returned to have an eye on McCoy, Spock decided to stay in sickbay. He was not needed on the bridge at the moment and more useful here.
While M’Benga was nearby, he made use of the opportunity to meditate for an hour, recovering some of his energy. Though he was still far from the limit of his strength, he did not know how much longer he would have to be here, and when he would for the next time get an opportunity to rest.
Eventually, M’Benga’s shift was over, and two hours later the doctor actually left, but not without making Spock promise he would call him should anything about McCoy’s state change.
Or rather, should the change be dramatic or unexpected. So far, McCoy’s condition had been in a constant state of changing for the worse. Bit by bit, his body was beginning to shut down. And Spock could barely reach even the echo of his mind anymore. Someone else, even if led by him, could go deeper more easily without doing damage, but even considering this, Spock knew that time was rapidly running out.
If Kirk did not make his decision soon, it would be too late.
Eventually, Spock came to the conclusion that he had to speak to the captain again. He had little hope of breaking through his friend’s stubbornness, but perhaps, if he could make him understand how little time they had left, he could speed up the realisation he had no doubt Kirk would eventually have.
He never made it to the door. In fact, he didn’t even make it out of his chair. The moment he decided to leave, the door opened and admitted Captain Kirk, who looked at him and said, “So you think Bones loves me, huh?”
“I know it,” Spock said.
“Well, he loves you too, and several others. It’s in his nature, even if he’d never admit it. Why are you so insistent on it having to be me?”
“Because the feelings he has for you are different from the affection he may harbour for me and the other people he cares about.”
“Is that the only reason?”
Spock nearly smiled. It seemed his friend had done some thinking in the time he had spend carefully away from sickbay.
“No. It is not.”
Kirk sighed, and walked over to the bed where McCoy was lying oblivious to their presence. He ran a hand through the doctor’s hair repeatedly, then brushed his knuckles over the pale, hollow cheek before finally taking McCoy’s hand in his.
“Why is it that you know things like this before I do?” he wondered.
Spock very nearly answered the question, but realised in time that it was hypothetical and not really demanding an answer. In fact, an analysis of Kirk’s reasons for fearing his own feelings and denying them for simplicities sake would most likely not be appreciated.
Kirk’s next words were quiet. “It’s not too late yet, is it?”
“I should hope not. He is still here. But time is pressing now. We should begin as soon as possible.”
Kirk kept staring at McCoy. “He’s so still,” he murmured. “And so cold. When I last was here, he was burning with fever. Are you sure it’s not too late?”
“I’m fairly certain. We should, however, begin as soon as you are ready.”
“I’m never going to be any more ready than I am now.” The captain turned to Spock, but did not let go of McCoy’s hand. He took a deep breath. “What do I have to do?”
Spock quickly explained it to him. “I will call Doctor M’Benga here to monitor us.” It was not a suggestion and Kirk seemed to understand that. He simply nodded, putting his recent conflict with the acting CMO aside for the sake of helping McCoy.
-
M’Benga had just fallen asleep when Spock called. It didn’t matter much in the end, because he would have had to get up in an hour anyway. It had not been a good night. He was worried about McCoy, not convinced Spock had been right that Kirk could or would help, and the complete exhaustion that had dragged him into sleep the moment he took a horizontal position the days before was slowly wearing off. It left him lying in his bed, staring into the dark while he turned again and again.
At first he had thought Spock called to tell him McCoy had gotten worse again, or that he had just died. He hadn’t dared to hope for the message he actually received.
When he arrived in sickbay, he found Spock and the captain to the left of McCoy’s bed. The Vulcan greeted him formally, while Kirk did not even appear to notice his presence. His eyes were fixed on McCoy’s face in a way that almost made M’Benga believe Spock might have been right after all.
“What do I have to look for?” he asked. “I am not familiar with this kind of procedure.”
“If all goes well there will be no danger to any of us, but I need you to monitor McCoy’s condition, since I will not be able to do so myself,” Spock said. “Should his vital functions cease, you will have to break the physical contact between all three of us should we not let go on our own. Else we will die with him.”
M’Benga nodded wordlessly. He had known that there was a danger of McCoy not surviving this. If they did not manage to deliver the right impression to the man, their friend might give up and simply die, right here and now. Of course the machines could keep his body alive indefinitely, but his mind, the part that made him him would be lost. And if the three of them were telepathically joined at the time, he would take Spock and Kirk with him.
M’Benga had been involved in a few deep melds himself while on Vulcan. He understood that while the invaders would be well aware of what happened to the mind they invaded they might not be able to react accordingly. It happened every so often that a Vulcan died because he had been unable to separate from a fading mind in time, especially if they were close.
And these three were very close.
M’Benga also knew that separating them by force would be dangerous. He would have to look for the signs and wait for the last moment, only interfering if there was no alternative. As the only expert on Vulcans and their telepathy on board, no one but him could take the ungrateful task of watching this and hoping he did not have to do anything that might destroy anyone’s mind.
Kirk did not react to his question or Spock’s answer. M’Benga did not know if the captain was aware of the dangers but assumed Spock had dutifully informed him. And if the danger to himself were enough to stop Kirk from doing this, then McCoy was lost anyway and it didn’t matter if they didn’t even try.
There was nothing more to say. Spock and the captain exchanged a brief glance and the captain nodded wordlessly. Spock lifted his right hand and put it to Kirk’s face, his fingers on the meld points. Then he put the fingers of his left hand in the same positions on McCoy’s face and closed his eyes.
Both men went perfectly still. They looked strangely relaxed, just like McCoy looked relaxed as he was dying.
-
Later Kirk never found the words to describe the experience. He did not know what he had expected, but he was sure it was not this. The intensity took him by surprise.
Whenever Spock had melded with him it had always been in the line of duty, a shallow contact that did not touch anything personal. In this case Spock went deeper, right into Bones’ heart, and he took Kirk along until he no longer felt any physical sensations. The world could have ended and he would not have cared.
Even if he had been able to describe the experience, he would not have done so, ever. It was too intimate; for the first time he really understood why doing this without permission was a crime. And event though Spock let him know that what the other Spock had done to Bones had happened in a different way, the knowledge that he had done it filled Jim with rage and hatred, and a wild desire to go and take out the man who had violated Bones this way.
Disconnected from his body, he felt all emotions without restriction - and Bones felt them too, knew what Jim was feeling, just like Jim shared all the pain, hurt and doubt that tormented Bones. If there were any doubt left that he truly loved this man, it ended then, with the single-minded desire to help and heal and protect Bones from everything that meant to hurt him.
Spock was only a distant presence, keeping to the background because Bones would not have let him in. To Jim he opened willingly, instinctively, in a way he never had in the conscious world. Jim he allowed to reach out to him, into something that seemed like a cold, dark abyss to him, one he knew he could not return from if he went too deep. He did so without hesitation, without fear, knowing only that he had to get to Bones now for there was no second chance.
If Bones had fallen too far already then they would fall together. It was a sacrifice Jim was willing to make without a second thought.
It was enough for Bones to reach out to him in return instead of retreating further as he would have done had it been anyone else. Jim did not know how Bones perceived all this from the dark place he was in, but the intensity of his emotions was almost painful. Bones felt everything so much stronger than him, stronger than most people did, and it was so very easy to hurt him.
As Jim had done, without meaning to and without thinking, so often. And yet his attempt to save Bones was enough to make him come back. He felt what his presence, his love meant to his friend, and was humbled by the knowledge of how much he was needed.
Jim lost all sense of time the moment Spock joined their minds; he did not know or care how long it was going on. After a while, he lost contact. Bones slipped away and Jim felt sudden fear and loss, not sure if it was his or his friend’s. One moment later Bones was gone.
This moment was filled with Spock’s presence, just a brief glimpse of something that came to Jim’s awareness now there no longer was anything else to concentrate on, then he too disappeared and Jim was all alone.
As Bones had been all the time.
When the world returned an indefinite time late and Kirk opened his eyes to the dim light of his own bedroom, he thought that M’Benga had been right: he had been something of an asshole in his desperate attempt not to tie himself to one person by acknowledging he was in love.
It was a bitter realisation, but one that had been a long time coming. Kirk had battled with it for days.
Still, it was not a nice thought to wake up to. It was also not what should have been his first thought upon waking, he thought. First of all he should have wondered what had happened, if something had gone wrong after all and what had become of Bones.
As things were, this was the second thing he thought of. It was also the thing that made it impossible for him to remain in bed, despite the difficulty getting out of it presented to him.
He wasn’t necessarily feeling physically weak, but his coordination was largely disabled, as was his balance. He also felt emotionally drained, as if the entire world was separated from him by a wall of glass and didn’t really concern him.
Except for Bones. Bones concerned him very much.
Standing up too quickly nearly had him sprawling on the floor when the room span around him. He managed to fall back instead and land with his butt on the bed again. The next time he stood, he did it more slowly and managed to remain on his feet. After a few seconds, the vertigo subsided.
As soon as he was no longer preoccupied with the challenge of his own movements, he finally realised that he was not alone. Spock was sitting on a chair by the table, his fingers crossed in front of his face, his eyes closed. By the look of it he was either meditating or sleeping in a very uncomfortable position.
“Spock?”
Spock opened his eyes to look at Kirk. “I see you are awake.”
“As are you.”
“I have not been sleeping. I would advise you to return to a horizontal position, however. The meld has been longer and more draining that anticipated. You are in no condition to fulfil your duties or be otherwise of use and have no pressing need to be out of bed. A few more hours of sleep will restore your strength.”
Kirk shook his head. “What about Bones?”
“He rests. Since he is still physically ill and very weak, he remains in sickbay until Doctor M’Benga deems it save to release him.”
Kirk let out a deep breath of heartfelt relief. “He’s fine then.”
“I just told you he was not.” Spock raised an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean. It worked, didn’t it? He’s going to make it?”
“Yes, it worked. Thanks to you.”
Kirk shook his head. “Took me long enough. Damn. I want to see him.”
“At the present time that would be unwise. You do not yet have recovered.”
“I’m going to see him now, Spock,” Kirk declared and started for the door. “He’s in sickbay. If I fall over, that’s the best place to do it.”
Spock seemed to understand that Kirk would not change his mind. He stood. “Your decision is illogical, as McCoy is sleeping and will not be aware of your presence. However, if you insist on seeing him, then I will accompany you.”
Actually, Kirk had expected that.
What he had not expected was his legs beginning to wobble halfway to their destination. Spock took his arm and as decently as possible supported him, but did not attempt to talk him into going back to bed.
“How are you?” Kirk was aware that the question was a little late, but, well, better late than never.
“I am Vulcan and well trained in matters of the mind. I suffered no ill effects.”
“Good.” At least Spock had known what he was doing. He had been the only one. Still, knowing what to expect, Kirk would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to.
M’Benga was working in sickbay when they entered, treating one of the five patients Kirk could see. For once he did not feel any resentment for the doctor. They only thing he might still resent was the fact that M’Benga had been right and Kirk had been wrong, and he was beginning to come to terms with that.
“You don’t look too well, Captain,” the doctor greeted them. “Are you sure you should be out of bed?”
“He insisted on coming here,” Spock answered in Kirk’s place. “Moving will slow his recovery but not worsen his condition, so I judged it morally acceptable not to stop him.”
“And you, Spock? What about your headache?”
“It has almost completely dissolved.” Spock looked at M’Benga and ignored Kirk’s glare, the very picture of innocence. Kirk scowled. So much for the myth that Vulcan’s couldn’t lie.
They did not have to tell M’Benga why they had come. The doctor wordlessly led them to McCoy’s room, where contrary to Spock’s words they found the CMO awake and well aware of their presence.
Nurse Chapel was with him, but left when M’Benga asked her to. The doctor followed her out of the room after a brief glance at the monitors, laving Kirk and Spock alone with their friend.
“Jim.” Bones voice was hoarse and barely audible. He weakly lifted a bandaged hand and Kirk took it in both of his, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Bones,” he said, distantly surprised how hoarse his own voice sounded. “Do you know what happened? Do you remember?”
Bones shook his head. He looked oddly helpless, making Kirk want to hold and protect him. “It was like a dream. I thought…” He stopped, closed his eyes, drew in a shaky breath. “M’Benga told me what you did. I can’t… I…” His weak voice died completely and a tear escaped his closed eyes, followed by another.
Before he even thought about acting, Kirk had pulled him close, holding him tightly as Bones sobbed against his shoulder. It was frightening how thin and brittle the doctor felt in Kirk’s strong arms.
‘It’s going to be alright,’ the captain meant to say. Instead he pressed his face into Bones’ hair and whispered, “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry!”
There was no indication that Bones had even heard him. He kept crying helplessly, and even when his tears finally stopped, the trembling of his body did not.
-
It was a long time before Kirk gently lowered McCoy on the pillow again. The doctor blinked heavily, his breath coming a little too fast, a little too hard. The readings on the monitor told Spock that his temperature, that had dropped dangerously low a few hours ago, was now far too high again.
Most of all he noticed that McCoy would not look at him. Every time their eyes met, the doctor turned away at once, unable to maintain even visual contact. He focused on Kirk instead, clinging to him like a lifeline.
It saddened the Vulcan, but did not surprise him. They had saved McCoy from giving up, but had not healed the damage done to his mind. He still associated Spock with his cursed counterpart and was unable not to fear him.
None the less, Spock slowly walked over to the bed, taking the place opposite of Kirk. Eventually McCoy looked at him, his eyes wide and full of barely contained fear.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, taking Spock my surprise. He looked away again, but this time it appeared to be in shame.
“You have no reason to be sorry,” Spock told him.
McCoy shook his head. “I shouldn’t be… I know it wasn’t you, Spock. I’ve been behaving… inappropriately towards you.” He gave a brief, desperate sounding laugh. “Still am.”
“You still need to heal,” Spock told him. “Considering the violation you have suffered from someone who was basically me, your behaviour is perfectly understandable.”
“He was nothing like you.”
The conviction with which McCoy spoke both surprised and pleased Spock. He fought the human reaction to smile. McCoy was looking at him again, openly, unguardedly, despite fighting for control over himself. His hand, Spock noticed, was gripping Kirk’s very tightly.
Perhaps, Spock thought, it was time for him to overcome some inhibitions himself and let the smile appear on his face. Perhaps McCoy would appreciate it. But by the time the Vulcan decided that yes, he might, McCoy was already looking away again.
“I guess I should have told you sooner,” he muttered.
“You damn well should have,” Kirk agreed, and Spock, too, nodded.
“It certainly would have improved the situation. Yet I do understand why you felt the need to keep this secret.”
“Fat load of use that was.” Even tough McCoy’s voice was almost inaudible, Spock recognized the tone as bitter. “I just was in everyone’s way and put more work on my colleagues when they would have needed my help.”
Kirk reached out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “You have just as much right to be in need as any of your patients,” he said. “Don’t be stupid.”
His words did not have the desired effect. McCoy silently started to cry again. Spock attributed this reaction to his defenceless emotional state and his visible exhaustion. Despite his long, unnaturally deep sleep, his eyes were red-rimmed and bruised looking and his pale cheeks sunken in.
“I know a Vulcan healer who can help you,” Spock said. “She has already been informed and will await us on Vulcan within the next week.”
Kirk looked up then, surprised, but did not say anything. He seemed to understand that Spock would have spoken to him about this before telling McCoy had he not been taken by surprise by the doctor actually being awake.
Spock had not been able to ask the captain for permission before making the appointment, as Kirk had been asleep and time was of the essence. It would have been a mere formality anyway - since it meant helping McCoy, nothing would have stopped Kirk from making this trip.
“I’m not… I don’t want to…” McCoy didn’t seem able to find the words for expressing his doubts, but Spock was able to guess his meaning.
“You cannot overcome this on your own,” he said, as gently as he was able to. “She will not hurt you. And I will supervise her work if you will trust me.”
McCoy still didn’t look at him. “Of course I trust you,” he whispered. “It’s not like I’d have any choice not to, now.”
Spock was silent for a moment. Eventually, he said, “I apologize. I had no right to enter your mind without your permission, but the circumstances…”
“Forget it,” McCoy cut him off. “It’s okay. You only wanted to help. And you did. Actually, I have to thank you.” But his voice was shaking.
“It would be advisable for you to sleep,” Spock said. “You will need your strength.”
“No. I’m fine. I can’t sleep.” But it was evident that the doctor could not remain awake either.
“Is it the dreams?” Kirk asked softly. “I’m sure there’s something M’Benga can give you for that.”
“M’Benga can give me a stimulant and let me go home,” McCoy said, trying to sound exasperated even though his hoarse voice was failing him. “But he refuses. You might not consider me capable of thinking of it myself, but everything else I already tried before I ended up here.”
“I’m glad to see your personality has not suffered any harm,” Kirk muttered with a slight smile that could not hide his concern. “But M’Benga is right; if he allows you to take another stimulant in the next two weeks, I will have him shot.”
“Medication is unlikely to be of help in such a case,” Spock explained. “If you allow me, though, I can help you find sleep.” McCoy looked at him then, and while he claimed he did trust Spock there were still fear and doubt in his eyes. “I will not pry into your thoughts,” the Vulcan promised. “But I can sense any emotional distress and calm your mind before any form of unpleasant dream can develop.”
After a moment of hesitation in which Kirk watched him closely, McCoy closed his eyes and nodded weakly. It was testament to the long period without real rest when he whispered, “Please.”
-
Kirk watched Spock gently place his long, slender hand on Bones’ forehead and then slowly slide it down over his closed eyes. Bones looked tense, but he gradually relaxed, and eventually his breathing became even. The look of concentration vanished from Spock’s face and he opened his eyes to look at Kirk, but did not remove his hand from Bones’ face. His other hand had taken hold of the doctor’s wrist as if to measure his pulse.
“To make true of my promise, I cannot break contact until Leonard wakes up,” the Vulcan explained. “Otherwise I would be unable to keep his mind from providing disturbing images.”
“It’s called nightmares, Spock,” Kirk told him with a soft smile. In truth, he could not help feeling slightly left out and useless when he saw Spock caring for Bones in such an intimate way.
He suspected he might be jealous. That was hardly appropriate. Eventually, he and Bones would have to work out what the somewhat forced revelation of both their feelings would mean for their general relationship, and Kirk would have to come to terms with emotions he even at this point hardly dared to feel. Now, however, was not the time.
Perhaps Bones would be healed on Vulcan and then choose to ignore this entire episode. Everything would return to normal and they’d pretend it never happened.
Kirk felt slightly ashamed when he found a part of him wished for this. He wasn’t ready for anything as serious as this would have to be. He wasn’t sure he ever would.
And he was confused when he looked at Spock’s hand lying lightly on the face of the man Kirk was not used to loving and felt something he identified as possessiveness. He didn’t want to share.
But damn, Bones looked like he needed some sleep. So this was not the right moment to be overwhelmed by feelings he usually only knew in regard to his ship.
Spock watched him with a look in his eyes that was absolutely, frustratingly unreadable. Kirk sighed.
“You’re going to sit here for hours, then?”
“It does not present a problem to me.”
“I didn’t think it would.” Kirk became aware that he was still holding Bones hand in his. And that he had no intention of letting go. “Mind if I sit with you for a while?”
Spock didn’t. And as he sat in silence and listened to Bones’ soft breathing, Jim Kirk realised that while he had no idea where he wanted to go in the days to come, right now he was exactly where he wanted to be.
December 9, 2009
Chapter 4 <-
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Summary: After returning from the mirror universe, McCoy is facing the consequences of the meld forced on him by the other Spock, and Kirk is failing to be helpful.
Word count: 6875
The day passed slowly. Kirk spent it on the bridge, staring off into space and avoiding all but the absolutely necessary contact with the skeleton staff around him. He was waiting for his shift to be over, but every time he checked the time, convinced that hours had passed since the last time he did it, he found that in fact it were only minutes. And not very many of them.
He didn’t even know why he wanted his shift to be over. There was nothing for him to do. He’d just sit in his quarters and stare off into space there. What a change!
His last night had passed pretty much like that. After talking to Spock, he had been unable to sleep, to read, to view reports or even to think. He didn’t want to think. Yet his mind didn’t seem to want anything else.
He checked the time again. In two hours, the Enterprise would leave Starbase Six, and perhaps he was lucky and they’d run into Romulans, or hallucinogenic energy rays that made the crew go mad and kill each other. It seemed like a nice alternative to all this staring into space right now.
Alternatively, he could kill time by going back to sickbay and…
No. That wouldn’t help at all. Staring at Bones would not miraculously heal him, and currently Kirk had no desire at all to see anyone who knew about him and Bones. And all of those were currently in sickbay. It made going there a very bad idea.
He was glad Spock was not here at the moment. Kirk knew that logically, Spock would have to come to the conclusion that the captain was right: he couldn’t help Bones and would make things worse by trying. But Kirk still felt that after everything he had said and done in just the last couple of days, he had made an utter ass of himself - or at least successfully given the impression of being one.
It was hardly fair to blame him for not feeling the right way about Bones. Feelings couldn’t be forced. They couldn’t even blame him for getting involved with his friend when he didn’t love him. There was no law against relationships like theirs. It even had its very own name.
And it wasn’t like Bones hadn’t known what he was getting into. In fact, Kirk had always thought that his friend saw this whole thing as shallowly as he himself did.
The fact that apparently he didn’t made Kirk feel awful without anyone telling him to. And that made him angry, at himself, at everyone, and mostly at Bones. He had no reason to feel this way, as if everything was his fault.
Especially since, no matter what his own feelings were, Bones had known all along that Kirk was in it for the sex. And there wasn’t even an ‘it’ to speak of, just the occasional meeting when they were both bored and horny.
Except, looking back, it had always been Kirk coming to Bones who sometimes was more eager than at other times but never, ever said no.
But why would he? Kirk didn’t come often. Only when there was no one else to go to.
Seen from his perspective, it was obvious why Kirk didn’t look too good in this regard.
He groaned inwardly. He really, really didn’t want to think about this. It was pointless. It had never been any different. Bones could not have thought it would ever get any different. He’d still agreed with it and that made it his own fault if the situation had hurt him.
Kirk could go over it again and again, and he would always find arguments to excuse himself. And they never made him feel any better.
What he felt most guilty about, though, was that he could not help his friend. He had only a vague idea of what Spock had asked of him, but it was enough to know that Spock could somehow make Bones know how he felt for him. And if Kirk loved him, really loved him, more than anyone else in the world, it might give Bones the strength to fight and survive. Kirk knew he could not be blamed for not feeling this way, but he felt guilty anyway.
There was no doubt that he cared for Bones, as a friend. On that level, Kirk loved him unconditionally. But he was not more important to him than Spock, or his ship. All Bones could get from this was confirmation that if he died, someone or something else would fill the gab.
Which, of course, wasn’t true. Bones was quiet unique - just like Spock or the Enterprise. No one could ever replace him, and as a friend, Kirk would always miss him. But if he had understood Spock correctly, it would all be twisted to something else by Bones’ wounded mind.
Which was why he couldn’t even try. They had to find someone who simply loved McCoy as much as he needed to be loved. It had to be enough for both of them, as obviously at the moment Bones was not able to love himself.
There would be someone like that on the ship. Everyone liked Bones, despite his grumpy way, even if few admitted it. Among the four-hundred fifty men and women on the ship there had to be at least one who was romantically interested in him.
Romantically interested. Now he sounded like Spock.
It was sad that something that clinically sounding should have more power over McCoy than Kirk’s friendship. Just the thought of losing him was breaking his heart.
The captain pressed his lips together. He really, really shouldn’t think of this all the time. Because he was on the bridge, seen by everyone, and it wouldn’t do if they saw him break down with grief.
Spock would find someone to save Bones. There was no doubt about it, and so there was no reason to grieve.
He could tell himself this a hundred times, and a part of him would still not be able to believe it.
It was the same part that felt like he was betraying Bones by being here, doing his job like nothing was going on. Like he wasn’t going to lose his goddamn best friend.
He could do with Bones’ advice right now. Or even a glass of Bones’ brandy. Instead he had three hours of bridge-sentence left and the very same thought to face over and over again.
Uhura was looking at him. Kirk noted it out of the corner of his eye and glared at her, certain she was judging him as well.
“You’ve got something to say, Lieutenant?” he snapped, and only when he saw her taken-aback expression did he remember that she didn’t even know what was going on. She might have heard that Doctor McCoy was ill. That was all. She didn’t know about their non-existent relationship, or the attack of the other Spock, or that Bones was going to die.
“I’m sorry,” he said, offering a weak smile. “I’ve had a rough night.”
She smiled in return, a lot more believable than him. “No need to apologize, Captain. I was thinking you looked tired. Perhaps you should take a break. Did you even have lunch today?”
Now she mentioned it, he hadn’t. He wasn’t hungry, though. The mere thought of eating made him sick.
“No,” he said none-the-less. “I think I’ll go get some. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Kirk left quickly, but the moment the doors of the lift closed after him, he stopped. For half a minute he stared at nothing, unable to give the computer a deck to take him to.
In the end, he locked himself in his quarters. It did not change anything about the unbidden thoughts that kept going through his head, but at least here no one would watch him thinking.
-
Spock spent all day with McCoy, watching over his condition and thinking. He knew he could not force the captain to try and help their friend - for it to have the desired effect, Kirk had to do it out of his own will. He also knew that Kirk was the only one who could do it. If he did not accept Spock’s words as true in time, McCoy would be lost.
Kirk would never forgive himself if that happened. Eventually, it might destroy him. Spock knew that he was at risk of losing the two friends closest to him, but it was out of his power to help. There was nothing more he could do. Everything else depended on Jim Kirk.
Spock had no doubt his friend would eventually realise the truth. He could only hope it happened before it was too late.
Doctor M’Benga entered to check on his colleague. Sighing, he ran a hand through the unconscious man’s hair. It was a pointless gesture, as McCoy couldn’t feel it, but Spock had found long ago that gestures like this were an important part of human interaction. His mother also was prone to them, even if she had mostly refrained from such things from the time he reached adolescence. For the first time he found himself wondering if she missed these illogical human contacts, living on a world were no one but her considered them necessary.
A strange time to think about it. Spock pushed the thought away.
“Do you really believe the captain can help?” M’Benga asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not convinced. I mean no disrespect, but Captain Kirk is not…” the doctor trailed off, perhaps unable to formulate his thought in a way that would not seem disrespectful.
“It has to be the captain,” Spock said matter-of-factly. M’Benga turned to look at him.
“Alright. I’m not going to discuss this with you. Doubtlessly, you know McCoy’s feelings better than I do. But I have my doubts about Kirk. What makes you so certain? No offense, Spock, but perhaps you are not the best judge of human emotions and motivations.”
“You should know that this observation does not offend me,” Spock said calmly “It is accurate, in general. Bur I know the captain very well, as I do McCoy. I am certain from the data I received that I made no error in judgement. However,” he added, “knowing the captain as I do, I know he can be incredibly stubborn. It might cause him to need too long to accept the truth I have already recognized.”
“Can’t you talk to him about it? We’re kind of short on time here.”
“No. I already did all I could. The rest is up to him.”
-
The Enterprise left the starbase at the scheduled time. Everything went smoothly. Neither Klingons nor Romulans nor man-eating gelatinous blobs attacked. There were just stars on the screen, passing them in silence, the basic crew on their stations and no one standing behind the captain’s chair. No one at the science station either. It was understandable - there was nothing scientific going on. Still, Spock’s absence was a notable difference.
Kirk still didn’t want to see him. He most certainly didn’t want to talk to him. Still, eventually he would have to call and ask if he had been able to help Bones yet.
Actually, he did not. If anything had changed for the better or the worse, Spock would have told him.
An hour after they resumed their journey, Kirk left the bridge anyway and headed for sickbay.
He never got there. Halfway down the hall he changed direction and eventually ended up on the observation deck. It was empty but for him, something for which he was very grateful.
The stars outside had no advice to give him. They were just there. Usually, that was enough.
Not today.
It was always the same: The more he tried not to think about something, the more he ended up doing just that. And as much as he tried not to think about it, he could never completely forget that he was about to lose Bones. It made him want to scream, or hit the wall, or do anything, anything else to relieve the pressure that seemed to tear him apart from the inside.
And he couldn’t even imagine it. For so long, Bones had been a part of his life that losing him would be like losing a part of himself. What kind of captain would he be without Bones being there to tell him what he needed to be told?
Kirk sighed, and balled his hands to fists in frustration. He couldn’t run from this. It would catch up with him, if not now then at least when someone told him that Doctor McCoy had died because they couldn’t find anyone to save him. And he already knew that he would never forgive himself for that. Even if he could do nothing to help - a part of him would always wonder.
It was the same part he was trying so hard no to listen to.
There was a nebula in the distance, bright and colourful, birthplace of new stars. Kirk looked at it without really seeing it.
Not thinking about it had not solved the problem. It had not even helped him forget the problem because not thinking about it in general didn’t work. Perhaps he should finally gather his courage and face what was going on. If his thoughts wanted to circle around Bones, perhaps he should let them.
Especially since he could never shut out the feeling that he was quickly running out of time. Maybe there was something, anything he could do, after all, and he didn’t want to be to blame for his best friend’s death because he was too ashamed to think about saving him.
Ashamed. Now, where did that come from? Thinking about it, Kirk found that indeed he was. He just couldn’t tell why.
But he thought he might get an idea when he tried to imagine the opposite case: That Spock found someone who loved Bones enough to save him, and Bones came back for that person because he suddenly realised that he loved them too, not Kirk. Which should be fine, because Kirk didn’t love him either and it just made everyone project a responsibility on him he didn’t want. Everyone but Bones, of course, who never expected anything in return.
And once Bones’ perfect match had been found, they lived happily ever after together, because that was how stories like this inevitably ended. That sounded fine. Everyone would be happy and for Kirk things would get a lot easier, and otherwise nothing between him and Bones would change at all, except that they wouldn’t have sex anymore - a sacrifice Kirk was willing to make for his friend’s survival.
He found he didn’t like this potential ending at all. Yet this was another thing he didn’t want to think about, because he feared that he wouldn’t like his reasons for that either, should he ever figure them out.
-
Even though M’Benga had long since returned to have an eye on McCoy, Spock decided to stay in sickbay. He was not needed on the bridge at the moment and more useful here.
While M’Benga was nearby, he made use of the opportunity to meditate for an hour, recovering some of his energy. Though he was still far from the limit of his strength, he did not know how much longer he would have to be here, and when he would for the next time get an opportunity to rest.
Eventually, M’Benga’s shift was over, and two hours later the doctor actually left, but not without making Spock promise he would call him should anything about McCoy’s state change.
Or rather, should the change be dramatic or unexpected. So far, McCoy’s condition had been in a constant state of changing for the worse. Bit by bit, his body was beginning to shut down. And Spock could barely reach even the echo of his mind anymore. Someone else, even if led by him, could go deeper more easily without doing damage, but even considering this, Spock knew that time was rapidly running out.
If Kirk did not make his decision soon, it would be too late.
Eventually, Spock came to the conclusion that he had to speak to the captain again. He had little hope of breaking through his friend’s stubbornness, but perhaps, if he could make him understand how little time they had left, he could speed up the realisation he had no doubt Kirk would eventually have.
He never made it to the door. In fact, he didn’t even make it out of his chair. The moment he decided to leave, the door opened and admitted Captain Kirk, who looked at him and said, “So you think Bones loves me, huh?”
“I know it,” Spock said.
“Well, he loves you too, and several others. It’s in his nature, even if he’d never admit it. Why are you so insistent on it having to be me?”
“Because the feelings he has for you are different from the affection he may harbour for me and the other people he cares about.”
“Is that the only reason?”
Spock nearly smiled. It seemed his friend had done some thinking in the time he had spend carefully away from sickbay.
“No. It is not.”
Kirk sighed, and walked over to the bed where McCoy was lying oblivious to their presence. He ran a hand through the doctor’s hair repeatedly, then brushed his knuckles over the pale, hollow cheek before finally taking McCoy’s hand in his.
“Why is it that you know things like this before I do?” he wondered.
Spock very nearly answered the question, but realised in time that it was hypothetical and not really demanding an answer. In fact, an analysis of Kirk’s reasons for fearing his own feelings and denying them for simplicities sake would most likely not be appreciated.
Kirk’s next words were quiet. “It’s not too late yet, is it?”
“I should hope not. He is still here. But time is pressing now. We should begin as soon as possible.”
Kirk kept staring at McCoy. “He’s so still,” he murmured. “And so cold. When I last was here, he was burning with fever. Are you sure it’s not too late?”
“I’m fairly certain. We should, however, begin as soon as you are ready.”
“I’m never going to be any more ready than I am now.” The captain turned to Spock, but did not let go of McCoy’s hand. He took a deep breath. “What do I have to do?”
Spock quickly explained it to him. “I will call Doctor M’Benga here to monitor us.” It was not a suggestion and Kirk seemed to understand that. He simply nodded, putting his recent conflict with the acting CMO aside for the sake of helping McCoy.
-
M’Benga had just fallen asleep when Spock called. It didn’t matter much in the end, because he would have had to get up in an hour anyway. It had not been a good night. He was worried about McCoy, not convinced Spock had been right that Kirk could or would help, and the complete exhaustion that had dragged him into sleep the moment he took a horizontal position the days before was slowly wearing off. It left him lying in his bed, staring into the dark while he turned again and again.
At first he had thought Spock called to tell him McCoy had gotten worse again, or that he had just died. He hadn’t dared to hope for the message he actually received.
When he arrived in sickbay, he found Spock and the captain to the left of McCoy’s bed. The Vulcan greeted him formally, while Kirk did not even appear to notice his presence. His eyes were fixed on McCoy’s face in a way that almost made M’Benga believe Spock might have been right after all.
“What do I have to look for?” he asked. “I am not familiar with this kind of procedure.”
“If all goes well there will be no danger to any of us, but I need you to monitor McCoy’s condition, since I will not be able to do so myself,” Spock said. “Should his vital functions cease, you will have to break the physical contact between all three of us should we not let go on our own. Else we will die with him.”
M’Benga nodded wordlessly. He had known that there was a danger of McCoy not surviving this. If they did not manage to deliver the right impression to the man, their friend might give up and simply die, right here and now. Of course the machines could keep his body alive indefinitely, but his mind, the part that made him him would be lost. And if the three of them were telepathically joined at the time, he would take Spock and Kirk with him.
M’Benga had been involved in a few deep melds himself while on Vulcan. He understood that while the invaders would be well aware of what happened to the mind they invaded they might not be able to react accordingly. It happened every so often that a Vulcan died because he had been unable to separate from a fading mind in time, especially if they were close.
And these three were very close.
M’Benga also knew that separating them by force would be dangerous. He would have to look for the signs and wait for the last moment, only interfering if there was no alternative. As the only expert on Vulcans and their telepathy on board, no one but him could take the ungrateful task of watching this and hoping he did not have to do anything that might destroy anyone’s mind.
Kirk did not react to his question or Spock’s answer. M’Benga did not know if the captain was aware of the dangers but assumed Spock had dutifully informed him. And if the danger to himself were enough to stop Kirk from doing this, then McCoy was lost anyway and it didn’t matter if they didn’t even try.
There was nothing more to say. Spock and the captain exchanged a brief glance and the captain nodded wordlessly. Spock lifted his right hand and put it to Kirk’s face, his fingers on the meld points. Then he put the fingers of his left hand in the same positions on McCoy’s face and closed his eyes.
Both men went perfectly still. They looked strangely relaxed, just like McCoy looked relaxed as he was dying.
-
Later Kirk never found the words to describe the experience. He did not know what he had expected, but he was sure it was not this. The intensity took him by surprise.
Whenever Spock had melded with him it had always been in the line of duty, a shallow contact that did not touch anything personal. In this case Spock went deeper, right into Bones’ heart, and he took Kirk along until he no longer felt any physical sensations. The world could have ended and he would not have cared.
Even if he had been able to describe the experience, he would not have done so, ever. It was too intimate; for the first time he really understood why doing this without permission was a crime. And event though Spock let him know that what the other Spock had done to Bones had happened in a different way, the knowledge that he had done it filled Jim with rage and hatred, and a wild desire to go and take out the man who had violated Bones this way.
Disconnected from his body, he felt all emotions without restriction - and Bones felt them too, knew what Jim was feeling, just like Jim shared all the pain, hurt and doubt that tormented Bones. If there were any doubt left that he truly loved this man, it ended then, with the single-minded desire to help and heal and protect Bones from everything that meant to hurt him.
Spock was only a distant presence, keeping to the background because Bones would not have let him in. To Jim he opened willingly, instinctively, in a way he never had in the conscious world. Jim he allowed to reach out to him, into something that seemed like a cold, dark abyss to him, one he knew he could not return from if he went too deep. He did so without hesitation, without fear, knowing only that he had to get to Bones now for there was no second chance.
If Bones had fallen too far already then they would fall together. It was a sacrifice Jim was willing to make without a second thought.
It was enough for Bones to reach out to him in return instead of retreating further as he would have done had it been anyone else. Jim did not know how Bones perceived all this from the dark place he was in, but the intensity of his emotions was almost painful. Bones felt everything so much stronger than him, stronger than most people did, and it was so very easy to hurt him.
As Jim had done, without meaning to and without thinking, so often. And yet his attempt to save Bones was enough to make him come back. He felt what his presence, his love meant to his friend, and was humbled by the knowledge of how much he was needed.
Jim lost all sense of time the moment Spock joined their minds; he did not know or care how long it was going on. After a while, he lost contact. Bones slipped away and Jim felt sudden fear and loss, not sure if it was his or his friend’s. One moment later Bones was gone.
This moment was filled with Spock’s presence, just a brief glimpse of something that came to Jim’s awareness now there no longer was anything else to concentrate on, then he too disappeared and Jim was all alone.
As Bones had been all the time.
When the world returned an indefinite time late and Kirk opened his eyes to the dim light of his own bedroom, he thought that M’Benga had been right: he had been something of an asshole in his desperate attempt not to tie himself to one person by acknowledging he was in love.
It was a bitter realisation, but one that had been a long time coming. Kirk had battled with it for days.
Still, it was not a nice thought to wake up to. It was also not what should have been his first thought upon waking, he thought. First of all he should have wondered what had happened, if something had gone wrong after all and what had become of Bones.
As things were, this was the second thing he thought of. It was also the thing that made it impossible for him to remain in bed, despite the difficulty getting out of it presented to him.
He wasn’t necessarily feeling physically weak, but his coordination was largely disabled, as was his balance. He also felt emotionally drained, as if the entire world was separated from him by a wall of glass and didn’t really concern him.
Except for Bones. Bones concerned him very much.
Standing up too quickly nearly had him sprawling on the floor when the room span around him. He managed to fall back instead and land with his butt on the bed again. The next time he stood, he did it more slowly and managed to remain on his feet. After a few seconds, the vertigo subsided.
As soon as he was no longer preoccupied with the challenge of his own movements, he finally realised that he was not alone. Spock was sitting on a chair by the table, his fingers crossed in front of his face, his eyes closed. By the look of it he was either meditating or sleeping in a very uncomfortable position.
“Spock?”
Spock opened his eyes to look at Kirk. “I see you are awake.”
“As are you.”
“I have not been sleeping. I would advise you to return to a horizontal position, however. The meld has been longer and more draining that anticipated. You are in no condition to fulfil your duties or be otherwise of use and have no pressing need to be out of bed. A few more hours of sleep will restore your strength.”
Kirk shook his head. “What about Bones?”
“He rests. Since he is still physically ill and very weak, he remains in sickbay until Doctor M’Benga deems it save to release him.”
Kirk let out a deep breath of heartfelt relief. “He’s fine then.”
“I just told you he was not.” Spock raised an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean. It worked, didn’t it? He’s going to make it?”
“Yes, it worked. Thanks to you.”
Kirk shook his head. “Took me long enough. Damn. I want to see him.”
“At the present time that would be unwise. You do not yet have recovered.”
“I’m going to see him now, Spock,” Kirk declared and started for the door. “He’s in sickbay. If I fall over, that’s the best place to do it.”
Spock seemed to understand that Kirk would not change his mind. He stood. “Your decision is illogical, as McCoy is sleeping and will not be aware of your presence. However, if you insist on seeing him, then I will accompany you.”
Actually, Kirk had expected that.
What he had not expected was his legs beginning to wobble halfway to their destination. Spock took his arm and as decently as possible supported him, but did not attempt to talk him into going back to bed.
“How are you?” Kirk was aware that the question was a little late, but, well, better late than never.
“I am Vulcan and well trained in matters of the mind. I suffered no ill effects.”
“Good.” At least Spock had known what he was doing. He had been the only one. Still, knowing what to expect, Kirk would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to.
M’Benga was working in sickbay when they entered, treating one of the five patients Kirk could see. For once he did not feel any resentment for the doctor. They only thing he might still resent was the fact that M’Benga had been right and Kirk had been wrong, and he was beginning to come to terms with that.
“You don’t look too well, Captain,” the doctor greeted them. “Are you sure you should be out of bed?”
“He insisted on coming here,” Spock answered in Kirk’s place. “Moving will slow his recovery but not worsen his condition, so I judged it morally acceptable not to stop him.”
“And you, Spock? What about your headache?”
“It has almost completely dissolved.” Spock looked at M’Benga and ignored Kirk’s glare, the very picture of innocence. Kirk scowled. So much for the myth that Vulcan’s couldn’t lie.
They did not have to tell M’Benga why they had come. The doctor wordlessly led them to McCoy’s room, where contrary to Spock’s words they found the CMO awake and well aware of their presence.
Nurse Chapel was with him, but left when M’Benga asked her to. The doctor followed her out of the room after a brief glance at the monitors, laving Kirk and Spock alone with their friend.
“Jim.” Bones voice was hoarse and barely audible. He weakly lifted a bandaged hand and Kirk took it in both of his, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Bones,” he said, distantly surprised how hoarse his own voice sounded. “Do you know what happened? Do you remember?”
Bones shook his head. He looked oddly helpless, making Kirk want to hold and protect him. “It was like a dream. I thought…” He stopped, closed his eyes, drew in a shaky breath. “M’Benga told me what you did. I can’t… I…” His weak voice died completely and a tear escaped his closed eyes, followed by another.
Before he even thought about acting, Kirk had pulled him close, holding him tightly as Bones sobbed against his shoulder. It was frightening how thin and brittle the doctor felt in Kirk’s strong arms.
‘It’s going to be alright,’ the captain meant to say. Instead he pressed his face into Bones’ hair and whispered, “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry!”
There was no indication that Bones had even heard him. He kept crying helplessly, and even when his tears finally stopped, the trembling of his body did not.
-
It was a long time before Kirk gently lowered McCoy on the pillow again. The doctor blinked heavily, his breath coming a little too fast, a little too hard. The readings on the monitor told Spock that his temperature, that had dropped dangerously low a few hours ago, was now far too high again.
Most of all he noticed that McCoy would not look at him. Every time their eyes met, the doctor turned away at once, unable to maintain even visual contact. He focused on Kirk instead, clinging to him like a lifeline.
It saddened the Vulcan, but did not surprise him. They had saved McCoy from giving up, but had not healed the damage done to his mind. He still associated Spock with his cursed counterpart and was unable not to fear him.
None the less, Spock slowly walked over to the bed, taking the place opposite of Kirk. Eventually McCoy looked at him, his eyes wide and full of barely contained fear.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, taking Spock my surprise. He looked away again, but this time it appeared to be in shame.
“You have no reason to be sorry,” Spock told him.
McCoy shook his head. “I shouldn’t be… I know it wasn’t you, Spock. I’ve been behaving… inappropriately towards you.” He gave a brief, desperate sounding laugh. “Still am.”
“You still need to heal,” Spock told him. “Considering the violation you have suffered from someone who was basically me, your behaviour is perfectly understandable.”
“He was nothing like you.”
The conviction with which McCoy spoke both surprised and pleased Spock. He fought the human reaction to smile. McCoy was looking at him again, openly, unguardedly, despite fighting for control over himself. His hand, Spock noticed, was gripping Kirk’s very tightly.
Perhaps, Spock thought, it was time for him to overcome some inhibitions himself and let the smile appear on his face. Perhaps McCoy would appreciate it. But by the time the Vulcan decided that yes, he might, McCoy was already looking away again.
“I guess I should have told you sooner,” he muttered.
“You damn well should have,” Kirk agreed, and Spock, too, nodded.
“It certainly would have improved the situation. Yet I do understand why you felt the need to keep this secret.”
“Fat load of use that was.” Even tough McCoy’s voice was almost inaudible, Spock recognized the tone as bitter. “I just was in everyone’s way and put more work on my colleagues when they would have needed my help.”
Kirk reached out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “You have just as much right to be in need as any of your patients,” he said. “Don’t be stupid.”
His words did not have the desired effect. McCoy silently started to cry again. Spock attributed this reaction to his defenceless emotional state and his visible exhaustion. Despite his long, unnaturally deep sleep, his eyes were red-rimmed and bruised looking and his pale cheeks sunken in.
“I know a Vulcan healer who can help you,” Spock said. “She has already been informed and will await us on Vulcan within the next week.”
Kirk looked up then, surprised, but did not say anything. He seemed to understand that Spock would have spoken to him about this before telling McCoy had he not been taken by surprise by the doctor actually being awake.
Spock had not been able to ask the captain for permission before making the appointment, as Kirk had been asleep and time was of the essence. It would have been a mere formality anyway - since it meant helping McCoy, nothing would have stopped Kirk from making this trip.
“I’m not… I don’t want to…” McCoy didn’t seem able to find the words for expressing his doubts, but Spock was able to guess his meaning.
“You cannot overcome this on your own,” he said, as gently as he was able to. “She will not hurt you. And I will supervise her work if you will trust me.”
McCoy still didn’t look at him. “Of course I trust you,” he whispered. “It’s not like I’d have any choice not to, now.”
Spock was silent for a moment. Eventually, he said, “I apologize. I had no right to enter your mind without your permission, but the circumstances…”
“Forget it,” McCoy cut him off. “It’s okay. You only wanted to help. And you did. Actually, I have to thank you.” But his voice was shaking.
“It would be advisable for you to sleep,” Spock said. “You will need your strength.”
“No. I’m fine. I can’t sleep.” But it was evident that the doctor could not remain awake either.
“Is it the dreams?” Kirk asked softly. “I’m sure there’s something M’Benga can give you for that.”
“M’Benga can give me a stimulant and let me go home,” McCoy said, trying to sound exasperated even though his hoarse voice was failing him. “But he refuses. You might not consider me capable of thinking of it myself, but everything else I already tried before I ended up here.”
“I’m glad to see your personality has not suffered any harm,” Kirk muttered with a slight smile that could not hide his concern. “But M’Benga is right; if he allows you to take another stimulant in the next two weeks, I will have him shot.”
“Medication is unlikely to be of help in such a case,” Spock explained. “If you allow me, though, I can help you find sleep.” McCoy looked at him then, and while he claimed he did trust Spock there were still fear and doubt in his eyes. “I will not pry into your thoughts,” the Vulcan promised. “But I can sense any emotional distress and calm your mind before any form of unpleasant dream can develop.”
After a moment of hesitation in which Kirk watched him closely, McCoy closed his eyes and nodded weakly. It was testament to the long period without real rest when he whispered, “Please.”
-
Kirk watched Spock gently place his long, slender hand on Bones’ forehead and then slowly slide it down over his closed eyes. Bones looked tense, but he gradually relaxed, and eventually his breathing became even. The look of concentration vanished from Spock’s face and he opened his eyes to look at Kirk, but did not remove his hand from Bones’ face. His other hand had taken hold of the doctor’s wrist as if to measure his pulse.
“To make true of my promise, I cannot break contact until Leonard wakes up,” the Vulcan explained. “Otherwise I would be unable to keep his mind from providing disturbing images.”
“It’s called nightmares, Spock,” Kirk told him with a soft smile. In truth, he could not help feeling slightly left out and useless when he saw Spock caring for Bones in such an intimate way.
He suspected he might be jealous. That was hardly appropriate. Eventually, he and Bones would have to work out what the somewhat forced revelation of both their feelings would mean for their general relationship, and Kirk would have to come to terms with emotions he even at this point hardly dared to feel. Now, however, was not the time.
Perhaps Bones would be healed on Vulcan and then choose to ignore this entire episode. Everything would return to normal and they’d pretend it never happened.
Kirk felt slightly ashamed when he found a part of him wished for this. He wasn’t ready for anything as serious as this would have to be. He wasn’t sure he ever would.
And he was confused when he looked at Spock’s hand lying lightly on the face of the man Kirk was not used to loving and felt something he identified as possessiveness. He didn’t want to share.
But damn, Bones looked like he needed some sleep. So this was not the right moment to be overwhelmed by feelings he usually only knew in regard to his ship.
Spock watched him with a look in his eyes that was absolutely, frustratingly unreadable. Kirk sighed.
“You’re going to sit here for hours, then?”
“It does not present a problem to me.”
“I didn’t think it would.” Kirk became aware that he was still holding Bones hand in his. And that he had no intention of letting go. “Mind if I sit with you for a while?”
Spock didn’t. And as he sat in silence and listened to Bones’ soft breathing, Jim Kirk realised that while he had no idea where he wanted to go in the days to come, right now he was exactly where he wanted to be.
December 9, 2009
Chapter 4 <-