Title: The Odds Are Better Together
Fandom: Star Trek TOS and AOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Disclaimer: I humbly disavow any rights to Star Trek.
Summary: A collection of short drabbles about our favorite three! Mostly gen, some K/S/M.
Previous Parts: 1-4
Warning: 8. hints of slash.
It’s raining debris. Jim makes a dive for shelter, executes a perfect roll and comes to his feet behind a large rock. Bones scoots over to make room for him.
The doctor yells through the noise, “Where’s Spock?”
A phaser obscures part of Jim’s face as he replies, “Gone left. Decoy.”
Leonard doesn’t like the sound of that. Any time the Captain or First Officer implement a plan, especially under attack, he has to sew one or both of them back together afterwards. McCoy cranes his neck as far left as he dares, searching through the cloud of dust and shrapnel for Spock. No sign of the Vulcan.
There is a resounding BOOM as a weapon hits too close to their cover, and the rock shakes a little from the aftershock. “Damn it,” McCoy curses as he spits out dirt from his mouth. Jim is silent, focused, and assessing the situation like a pro. When the Captain starts to inch forward—at the enemy—Bones grabs the back of his uniform. “Just where the Hell do you think you’re going, Jim! They’ll blow you to pieces—ones I can’t reassemble you out of!”
The Captain snaps, “Let go, McCoy! That’s an order!”
Doctor McCoy is never good at following orders; he likes to think that instinct should take priority, and right now, his instinct practically screams Stop Jim!
So he uses the only arsenal he has. “If you go, I go!”
“Damn you, Bones! It’s too dangerous!”
“But not for you, Jim? They’re firing some kind of damn rockets! You’d make a pretty good target, with that blazing gold of yours.”
Kirk’s lips are thin with aggravation. McCoy has a moment to worry if Jim is actually going to stun him and head straight into battle anyway. Then there is a loud alarm blaring and the biggest fireworks display Len has seen in a long time. He and Jim peek over the top of the rock to the sight of the berserkers’ artillery going up in flames. Out of the fire, almost at a trot, comes Spock.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Captain,” he says when he reaches the two officers. “I have successfully disarmed the Torites and retrieved our communicators.” He hands them each a device. “Shall we return to the Enterprise?”
“Yeah, Jim,” McCoy says quite earnestly. “Let’s get out of here before they figure out another way to kill us.”
The Captain flips open his communicator, hails Scotty on stand-by, and orders their transportation immediately. Once in the transporter room, Jim says something very quietly to Spock.
The Vulcan responds, in his normal voice, “Captain, I calculate a probability of 87.6% in favor of injury to your person. In this case, I must agree with Doctor McCoy’s actions.”
McCoy, mid-halt in a quick briefing of his med team, says very loudly. “Why thank you, Spock!”
Spock turns to McCoy with a raised brow. “You are welcome, Doctor McCoy. I must thank you also, for halting the Captain’s hasty decision to engage in personal combat with missiles.”
McCoy beams in return. Jim just squares back his shoulders, muttering under his breath, and stalks from the transporter room.
A job well-done. Leonard congratulates himself and, silently, Spock. Jim lives to see another day.
Doctor McCoy is weary. His hands ache, his brain aches, and he thinks he is developing an involuntary eye-twitch from too many stimulant shots in too short of a time.
No matter, he thinks. The price is worth it.
He lightly runs a hand over the precious PADD on a lab tabletop. It contains the positive results of his recent testing—and the cure for Mr. Spock. There is little left to do now but send it on for replication of the vaccine. Before McCoy does this, however, he comms the Captain. Jim answers immediately—and he looks just as tired as McCoy must.
“Spock’s gonna be fine, Jim.”
There is a moment of silence on the other end as the Captain breathes deeply (regains his balance, possibly controls his reaction). His “thank you, Bones” is very rough.
McCoy smiles to himself and cuts the line.
Six days of frantic researching and testing; six days of worry and heartache for the unconscious Vulcan in his Sickbay; six days of no rest.
Six terribly long, exhausting days of self-recrimination, harsh demands, and trembling nerves.
It’s over now and they are lucky. Spock will live and McCoy won’t need to add his name to that private list of deceased patients he keeps. The saving of Mr. Spock won’t prevent the nightmares, though; but once McCoy wakes up, covered in sweat and tears, he will remember that he did his best.
And this time, thank God, it was enough.
Jim and Spock are seated at a table not far from the hotel bar. “When does McCoy’s friend get here?” Jim wants to know.
“Dr. Harlow should arrive in three minutes,” Spock replies.
Kirk scowls into his beer and gripes, “Bones will have a great time, I’m sure. They can discuss… doctorly things.”
There is no need for Spock to remark on Jim’s words. The Captain is well on his way to embarrassing himself without aid.
Bones swings into the lounge with a little bounce to his step and a grin plastered on his face. He goes directly to the bar and orders a drink. Jim eyes the doctor from a short distance and grimaces. Spock calmly sips from his tea. Then Jim drops his beer back onto the table when a short, stout man (already balding) ambles over to the bar and says something to McCoy. If the look on Jim’s face is anything to go by, he has suddenly switched his opinion—is now too pleased at the thought of this “friend” of McCoy’s.
He leans over to Spock and asks in a whisper, “You think that’s the guy? What’s his field again?”
“Dr. Harlow is Head of the Neurobiology Department at the Novac facilities, with a medical degree—”
Jim waves off the rest of Spock’s statement; clearly, the Vulcan has researched this person well. Kirk doesn’t need too many details—just the right ones.
Bones squeezes the man’s shoulder and says something that Jim can tell makes McCoy excited. Probably a highlight from one of his latest medical journals.
The call disturbs not only McCoy’s conversation but has Jim whipping his head around in surprise. A leggy, gorgeous brunette in a short black cocktail dress walks right past his table and presents her hand to Doctor McCoy. Bones excuses himself from his companion, takes hold of her (did Jim mention she’s gorgeous, already?) perfectly-manicured ringless fingers and drops a gentlemanly kiss onto her knuckles.
“Why, Sarah, you’re prettier every time we meet!” he purrs in his Southern accent.
Sarah—the woman with the lovely face—kisses his cheek in return. “You sweet man! I’m so sorry that I’m late, Len. The things I have to do to keep my department in order –” She hooks her arm into his and they wander off, chatting all the while.
Jim goes back to sulking over his half-empty beer.
McCoy shrugs off his blue science tunic and is in the process of pulling off his boots when Jim comes out of the bathroom.
“Long day at work, Bones?”
Leonard doesn’t bother to reply, just falls back onto the Captain’s bed and tosses a hand over his eyes. If he mumbles something then, it’s too low for Jim to understand.
“Spock’s got Beta shift this week.”
The doctor just drags himself fully onto the bed and rolls over with his back to Kirk. Jim, of course, takes it as an invitation to fit himself against that back and sling an arm over Bones’ middle. He plants a kiss on the brown-haired head and sighs with contentment. He’s on the verge of sleep when fingers tangle with his (metal bands clanking), and Jim gives in to the smile lingering around the corners of his mouth.
If several hours later a certain Vulcan enters the Captain’s quarters, adjusts the lighting, and lays an extra blanket over the two sleeping Humans, they will both be so dead to the world, neither will awaken. When they rise together, however, for the next shift, they never miss the little signs of Spock’s caring. Soon enough it will be time to return the sentiment.
The good days aboard the Enterprise proceed on.