Title: Wishing Our Troubles Away (1/3)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Leonard is confounded by his feelings. Running from them doesn’t help much at all. In fact, it lands him in more trouble than he bargained for.
Or read at AO3

Part One

“Maybe we should stop.”

Spock turns his head to observe the man seated at the opposite end of the long table. This is not the first time McCoy has interrupted the peaceful silence of the laboratory to make a casual remark that seems to have no bearing upon the experiment on which they are working. Before, Spock waited to see what else the doctor would say to illuminate the meaning of the off-topic thought.

Now he realizes waiting is, perhaps, not the reaction McCoy requires in order to speak further on the matter.

“Doctor,” Spock says, “you must be more specific. Are the results of your work not satisfactory? Do you wish to take a period of rest?”

McCoy lifts his bowed head and gives Spock a strange look. “I wasn’t talking about this.” He makes an abrupt gesture at the cultures, centrifuge and Spock’s careful notations on a wall chart.

Spock powers off the computer screen in front of him, signaling that he is willing to give his full attention to the doctor. “Then to what do you refer?”

Leonard’s fingers play with a small stylus as his mouth curves downward. His eyes skip from Spock to the closed lab door and back. “How many arguments would you say we have in a week?”

Oh, he knows that number very well. It fluctuates only minutely over the course of time, unless tension is at its peak across the starship as a whole. “The average is quite remarkable.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“My work performance remains unaffected.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we!” The doctor draws in a quick breath and adds hastily, sheepishly, “Sorry. Guess I’m not doing my part to lower the average.”

“Indeed.”

The doctor’s expression turns bland. “They say frequent fighting is a symptom of a larger problem.”

The ubiquitous ‘they’ always disturbs Spock. No one can explain precisely who ‘they’ is. He chooses to ignore the reference this time because the doctor’s statement is intriguing. Does he mean that they do not work well together? That is not so, as evidenced by this very project their departments are jointly collaborating upon. Their progress is exceptional. In truth, Spock finds McCoy’s scientific mind to be very similar to his own. It is only the emotionalism which…

“Spock?”

Spock realizes his silence might be misconstrued. “Yes, Dr. McCoy?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You did not. I assume you have a theory on the nature of the ‘larger problem’.”

McCoy’s eyes skirt away from him again. “I… I don’t know. It’s strange,” murmurs the man. “I don’t hate you.”

That is rather pleasing news to Spock. He is surprised by how much it pleases him. His face shows none of these reactions. “Doctor, why is the matter troubling you at this time?”

“Jim,” Leonard says, holding Spock’s gaze. “I think it bothers him.”

Spock feels himself straighten in his seat. “Please explain.”

Leonard leans forward on his elbows, earnest in his speech. “It’s not what you think, Spock. The Captain knows we don’t disregard our conduct when it counts. He’s not disappointed—well,” McCoy’s mouth twitches, “maybe that’s not exactly the truth… he is disappointed.”

Surprise gives way to alarm. He would never seek to disappoint his commanding officer, and especially not Jim, who despite appearances is deserving of only the most loyal officers. Jim is often a conundrum to Spock, but he is a natural leader, a man worth following to the far end of space, a friend…

It isn’t until Leonard touches Spock’s arm, just lightly, questioningly, that Spock becomes aware the man has moved from his place at the end of the table. The doctor withdraws the touch as soon as Spock responds.

“Hey,” are the soft words, “you know Jim thinks you’re the best First Officer in the ‘Fleet. He isn’t disappointed in you, Spock.”

“I do not worry over such things, Doctor,” Spock remarks with calm.

McCoy chuckles lowly. “Mm-hm. All right, if you say so. Listen, why don’t we take that break now?”

“You may. I will remain here.”

Spock might have imagined it but Leonard’s voice is the one that sounds full of disappointment when he agrees and collects his tools to place inside the decontamination unit. Spock not quite watches the doctor’s exit from the corners of his eyes, slightly disturbed by the thought that he has missed some nuance of behavior from McCoy. Then he returns to the task at hand and focuses on that instead.

“Bones!” Jim calls, spying his friend at one of the tables in the cafeteria.

The doctor lifts a hand in greeting and Jim takes it as an invitation to join him. He sits opposite of Leonard, stretching out his legs to get comfortable, and blows at the steam curling from his cup of coffee. McCoy’s own cup is mostly full and looks cold, like he had forgotten about it.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“You’ll have to give me a lot more than that,” Bones retorts. His eyes are fixed elsewhere, to Jim’s left.

Jim leans in and cranes his neck to the side, unrepentant about the nosiness because he’s good at it. “Please tell me you’re not brooding this early in the morning, Bones.”

A familiar scowl appears. “Shut it, kid.”

“Have you tried waking up on the opposite side of the bed?”

“You’re not funny.”

Jim grins. “I definitely am.”

“In the head, maybe,” mutters McCoy. After a put-upon sigh, he says more congenially, “How was your run?”

“Good.” Jim takes a healthy swallow of coffee. “You should go with me sometime.”

“I already see enough of this ship as it is.”

“Aren’t you the physician here? I thought the crew is supposed to keep in shape.”

“No, you’re supposed to exercise. Otherwise, you’ll turn into a big ball of sugar and fat and, believe me, that will be very detrimental to your career, not just your health. Some crazy alien race will keep you as a squishy souvenir.”

Jim rubs at his mouth to hide his smile.

Leonard’s eyes finally land on Jim, and the doctor’s expression softens to affection. Jim feels his heart rate kick up to a gallop, as if he were still trying to beat his best running record.

“Jim, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” Jim replies immediately, meaning it.

Bones hesitates before lowering his voice. “What is it that you find so attractive about Spock?”

Jim has the misfortune of drinking coffee when Leonard asks this. After a long minute of his lungs hating him, he coughs out, “What?” McCoy stops smacking a hand against his back. Jim realizes at some point during his struggle to breathe Leonard switched to Jim’s side of the table. He turns his head to look at Bones, repeating, “What?“

“Is it that shocking that I know?” the man next to Jim murmurs.

“No, I just—shit, way to warn a guy, Bones!”

Leonard removes his hand from where it had settled on Jim’s shoulder, and Jim immediately regrets the loss. Afraid the doctor might leave altogether, he reaches out and touches the corner of McCoy’s uniform sleeve.

Leonard is once again focused on something else, this time clearly a thought that is taking him far, far away. Jim likes it better when Bones is right beside him, so he clears his throat and tries his best to answer the question. “Spock is, I don’t know, a challenge.”

Leonard stirs, says, “That’s what you said about Gaila at the Academy.”

Jim smiles at the memory, the mention of her hurting him less as time goes on. “It’s not the same, really. Gaila was fun.”

Bones snorts. “Gaila was out of your league, Jim.”

He gasps in mock outrage. “Are you saying she only used me for my body?”

Leonard shoves at Jim’s shoulder. Jim cries, “Abuse! Abuse of the Captain!” Nobody in the room pays them any attention.

“You think too much of yourself, kid,” Jim’s friend says, planting his elbows on the table. “So what is it about the Vulcan? He’s not fun, if that’s your only criteria.”

There are so many ways Jim could answer that. Mostly he just wants to tell Leonard that he’s been a blind fool for a lot of years and the criterion is fairly simple. The person has to be amazing in his or her own way.

Bones is amazing.

The confession is on the tip of Jim’s tongue. He chases it away with more coffee, only wincing slightly when he burns the roof of his mouth.

Cutting his eyes at his companion, Jim wants to know, “Is there a reason why you’re asking?”

McCoy purses his mouth. “Can’t I be curious? We are friends, Jim.”

That’s the problem, Kirk doesn’t say. He points out, “You don’t like Spock. I doubt you’d understand even if I tried explaining.”

Something flashes through Bones’s eyes. He begins to say heatedly “That’s not—” but stops short.

Jim’s curiosity is piqued. “Bones?”

“Forget it.” The man stands up. “Just pretend I didn’t ask, okay?”

Jim considers going after him, but he’s known Leonard McCoy long enough to recognize how to handle this behavior. Let Bones have an hour or two to himself, just to shake off whatever is riding him, then Jim will have a better chance of digging for further information.

And dig he will.

Why is Leonard so interested in Spock all of a sudden?

“Maybe I am crazy,” Leonard tells his reflection. The man in the mirror stares back at him in silence, and Leonard angrily swipes away the condensation on the glass. He finishes drying his hands and exits the bathroom.

What should it matter that Jim gets that glint in his eyes when he looks at Spock? Leonard didn’t think too much of it before, during those years at the Academy when Jim’s attention was caught by a pretty face.

Spock doesn’t have a pretty face, that’s for certain. Leonard snickers to himself as he drapes his wet towel over the back of the chair at his computer desk. It’s an unique face, Leonard supposes, one that he has only seen in two states: very expressionless or filled with rage.

Leonard would rather not think about Spock’s enraged face. The memory still has the power to make him feel nervous. At least Jim survived that encounter, thank god.

Leonard drags a hand down his face and drops into the chair sideways, draping one leg over the chair’s arm. He really doesn’t understand what it is that has him so flustered.

Jim is interested in Spock, Spock is clueless (in all likelihood), and it really isn’t Leonard’s business how those two resolve the situation. It’s not like Jim will forget about Leonard. Or that Spock will suddenly have an issue with Jim and Leonard’s…

He thinks the word friendship and, inexplicably, cringes.

“Damn it, man, what’s the matter with you?” he demands of himself.

It’s space, has to be. This tin can. Too many months cooped up, seeing the same corridors day in and out. Fresh air would be good, Leonard becomes convinced. Maybe once he’s out of his routine he can think clearly. Maybe he can stop worrying over things that shouldn’t bother him so much.

Decided, Leonard makes a mental note to talk to Jim about the next away mission. He hasn’t been on one of those in a while. (Probably because the last one he went on almost ended in his death.)

Yes, this could be just what he needs to get his head straight about priorities, relationships, and duty.

approximately two weeks later, newly discovered M-class planet

“I’m an idiot, a god-damned idiot!”

“Bones,” Jim says through clenched teeth, “now is not the time.“

“Agreed,” Kirk’s Vulcan First Officer seconds quietly.

Leonard looks at the spear pointed at the middle of his ribcage. “Well, I guess even a Vulcan can be wrong sometimes. No life-signs, my sainted aunt!”

“I said the probability of encountering a developed civilization was—”

“Gentlemen.” Jim shifts, grimacing as one of the unhappy-looking cavemen waves a very big wooden club in the air. “You can argue on the ship. If we manage to make it back.”

“Doubtful. We’re gonna die.”

“I love your optimism, Bones.”

“You’re welcome.”

A dirty-faced neanderthal to Leonard’s right begins to do an impatient dance. Either he has to pee very badly or he really, really wants to get on with the killing part of catching the prey. Leonard sidles a little closer to Spock, eyeing the hunter with apprehension.

“How about we stun them?”

“That would require a phaser, Doctor.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have lost yours.”

“Nor you yours.”

“I didn’t lose it. That hairy one smashed it with a rock.”

From his kneeling position on the ground, hands fisted, Jim raises his chin in a way that has Leonard’s stomach sinking. When Kirk rises to his feet, slowly enough that he doesn’t alarm their captors, sunlight glints off a streak of blood on his chin. “Remember what I said about joining me for a run, Bones?”

“Kid, if it means I don’t get tied up like a pig on a spit and roasted over an open fire, I will sprout wings and fly.”

“I would be most interested to see that happen, Doctor.” The cavemen come to some kind of unanimous decision through a series of grunts and close rank on the three stranded officers. “Captain, now would be the optimal time to share your plan.”

“Oh, that’s easy, Spock. When I say ‘run’—” A caveman jumps at Jim, spear held aloft. “RUN!“

Jim dodges lithely to one side and opens a grimy fist, flinging a handful of sand into his attacker’s eyes. The caveman howls.

Leonard doesn’t have a moment to think, or even follow Jim’s command, because someone—Spock—grabs the back of his tunic and spins him out of the way of incoming sharp object. Which is good, because Leonard is fairly certain he would have been impaled in short order.

The cavemen seem to know instinctively that Kirk is the leader, so they target him. Jim staggers back under another series of astonishingly clever assaults. Leonard watches in horror as a club narrowly misses caving in the side of Kirk’s head.

“Jim!” McCoy cries, twisting fruitlessly in the grip of the First Officer, who is persistently dragging him in one direction. “Damn you, Spock, let me go! Jim!”

Spock swings them both around the corner of an outcropping of rock and gives Leonard a look that could flay skin from bone. “We passed a cliff two kilometers to the south. Go there. Hide yourself in one of the caves.”

“I’m not leaving!”

“I have no time to argue with you, Doctor. Consider it an order.” Spock’s head jerks to the side as they hear a cry, human, Jim’s. Spock’s expression goes flat. He launches himself away from the outcropping.

Leonard goes too, not thinking, right on Spock’s heels. He doesn’t expect Spock to remember him in that moment, to spin around again so abruptly with a frightening sound, catch Leonard by the shoulders and slam him back-first into the nearest rock wall.

“You will do as I say!” roars the Vulcan.

Leonard can only make a gasp, partly in surprise and partly in pain. Spock’s fingers dig into his upper arms, hard enough to leave bruises. Spock’s face closes in, terrifying, angry.

“Leonard, you. will. run.”

Then Spock shoves away from him and leaves.

In the end McCoy does run, but only because an ogre of a man leaps out of a shadow, manages to flatten him into the dirt and rip off his medkit before Leonard can kick him hard enough to get away. By the time he reaches the cliff (it doesn’t look like the one from that morning), he is dizzy from exertion.

Finding a cave is easy. The cliff-side is riddled with them. The sun is setting by the time he reaches one several feet shy of the ground and the temperature has dropped significantly. Huddled in the darkness of his hideaway, it is only then that a loose-limbed and exhausted McCoy remembers caves are, naturally, where cavemen make their homes. He hears hands and feet scrambling among the rocks by the entrance.

It all goes terribly south from there, and he is immeasurably glad Jim and Spock aren’t around to be party to it.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• Wishing Our Troubles Away (3/3) – from January 3, 2013
• Wishing Our Troubles Away (2/3) – from December 30, 2012