Title: An Absence Acknowledged
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: Spock, McCoy
Summary: Written for romennim as a birthday gift. romennim, I am lucky to have met you in this fandom and even luckier that we are friends outside of it. Here is something sweet just for you—a moment between Spock and McCoy. *hugs*

A simple truth drove Leonard McCoy to Spock’s department: he did not want to be alone.

~~~

Vulcans may be curious, but Chief Medical Officers are ‘curiouser’, as some would say. They are apt to feel it is their privilege to investigate wherever they please. Currently Leonard is leaning over a particular science officer’s shoulder, reading a line of a lab report and making unintelligible noises to express his opinion about it.

Spock asks, since he is unable to interpret noises, “Do you perceive an error in the documentation?”

McCoy’s shrug is short and noncommittal.

Spock resumes typing.

The human hmms loudly.

Spock’s typing falters for the umpteenth time. It could be that his patience is wearing thin. “Doctor McCoy,” he says, “I agreed to allow your presence in my laboratory—”

“I have clearance to be here regardless of your consent, you know,” the doctor jumps in.

“—on the assumption you would not affect my productivity.”

“Nothing affects your work, Spock. I could be hula-hooping naked and you’d still have your nose pointed at your computer screen.” Leonard couples a negligent hand-wave with the airy statement, “Don’t mind me. Carry on!”

Spock very slowly pivots in his chair and returns his attention to his computer and the unfinished lab report. He manages three-quarters of a sentence before he hears the tell-tale sounds of someone rummaging through a desk drawer. “Doctor,” he says, and there is absolutely no inflection in his voice, especially not the annoyed kind, “is there something else you require?” Previously he had provided a PADD, a replicated cup of coffee, a chair that met the human standard for comfortable seating, a safety pin, and—though it was difficult to find—a red-colored marker.

“What? No. Just lookin’.” Leonard proceeds to close one drawer and open another. Objects rattle.

Spock’s fingers twitch once against his keyboard. He types a single word and stares at it for a long time. It reads: STOP.

Spock is not quite certain why he had typed it. He has a strange urge to repeat the word again and again. But what good would a screen filled with STOP do? It would ruin his report.

“Hey, Spock.”

He quickly erases the word and turns around, schooling his expression into a state of calm.

McCoy is tapping the capped marker against his mouth, looking thoughtful. “What do you suppose he’s doin’ right now?”

Spock could pretend he does not understand Leonard’s reference. That would only offend McCoy, however. Also, he may have wondered the same thing in the past day or so. Just briefly. “I do not know.”

Leonard drops into his chair, absently elevating a leg on its arm. “That’s not what I wanted to hear, Spock.”

He places his back to his computer screen and observes the habitual slump of the doctor’s body. “What was it you wished to be told?”

“Hmm… that maybe Jim’s stuck in a day-long conference.”

“That is highly likely.”

“Or he is charming some diplomat’s wife.”

“Also likely.”

“Or…” Leonard cuts his eyes at Spock. “…he’s missing us too.”

He could say this is probable as well but that translates to I wish it was true. It would be discomforting to say either one. Spock feels he should not presume about Jim’s feelings, for certainly in the past Kirk has proved he approaches life very differently than Spock does, and he also has no desire to voice a sentiment which is not entirely logical.

Leonard’s compunction about giving voice to sentiment is nearly nonexistent. “I don’t know why I miss the git so much. Lord knows, he’s a pain in my backside when he is around.”

This Spock can address without a directly embarrassing consequence. “You are close to the Captain. I am told it is natural to experience a sense of loss when the person with whom you share an emotional bond is not in close proximity.”

Spock can comprehend bonds. His bond with T’Pring occasionally reminded him that there was another mind close to his yet physically far away. But because that bond was never fully realized, it generally did not affect his thoughts to the extent of ‘missing T’Pring.’ In truth, he had not known her so well as that.

The doctor looks amused. “And who advised you on feelings, Spock?”

“I believe you did, Doctor.”

“Ah. So, did my advice make sense to you on a personal level?”

He answers without thinking, “Yes.”

Leonard immediately sits up. A flash of interest passes through his blue eyes. Spock has a single second to regret answering so hastily.

“Who’ve you been missing? Clearly not your lab reports,” McCoy tacks on dryly. But his intent expression says he is ready to wait for however long it takes to hear a satisfying answer to his question.

Spock has considered lying in the past, only to choose to remain silent or at worst imply at an un-truth. He considers lying now. He considers silence as well. Leonard is watching him.

“When you were aboard the Gallagher for sixty-two days to assist in a new controls implementation, your absence was… felt.” He adds as an afterthought, “Not solely by myself.” He recalls a increase in frequency of evenings spent playing chess with Jim. The games were initiated to ease an absence felt by them both.

Exclamations from McCoy Spock is accustomed to; silences, much less so. The doctor’s silence now is not simply born of surprise. There is some internal struggle behind Leonard’s blank facade, a struggle Spock cannot readily identify. He almost chooses to resume his work, not quite as a defense against that strange silence but at the very least as a familiar comfort to ease any buildup of tension.

“Spock,” Leonard says when the Vulcan spares a debating glance at the blinking cursor on his computer console. “Spock,” the doctor repeats more firmly, as though he has decided he has to speak. “Thank you.”

Thank you?

Perhaps the minute lift of his brow suggests the question. Leonard answers it with a surprisingly warm voice. “Thank you for telling me that.”

Apparently some conversations can lead to embarrassment despite the logical circumvention of a Vulcan. Spock pointedly goes back to formulating a summary on his lab report. He remarks to the officer at his back, “If you find there is nothing to occupy your attention here, Doctor McCoy, you may always return to Sickbay.”

“Oh, I’ve found something quite unexpected and fascinating to study, Mr. Spock” comes McCoy’s drawl. “I’ll stay here for a little while longer, I think.”

Yet Doctor Leonard McCoy does not clarify that mysterious statement. Spock, resolutely pouring his attention into his work, forgets to ask what fascinates the man so.

Later, Leonard will exit the lab at the Vulcan’s side with a small, self-satisfied smile. Spock won’t ask about that smile either. Though if Spock had indulged his curiosity, McCoy’s response would have successfully embarrassed him for a month.

~~~

A simple truth drove Leonard McCoy to Spock’s department: he did not want to be alone. What he learned there keeps him from feeling lonely ever again.

-Fini

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