Wishing Our Troubles Away (2/3)

Date:

1

Title: Wishing Our Troubles Away (2/3)
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.
Previous Part: 1
Or read at AO3


Part Two

They don’t find McCoy, of course.

In the sky’s pre-dawn light, Jim leans his shoulder against a wall made of rock and closes his eyes. He feels rather than hears the sound of Spock’s approach.

“Anything?”

“Negative, Captain.”

Kirk resists the urge to plant his fist into the hard surface beneath his shoulder. He pushes away from the wall. Immediately Spock reaches out to help Jim by taking his weight. Jim slips out of reach, not ready to be touched, by limping toward the mouth of a cave. He could join the dark shadows inside, probably should so he can rest a moment more before the sun fully rises. Bones would force him to lay down if he was here.

The guilt Jim feels intensifies. “I shouldn’t have let him come on the mission,” he says, voice harsh in the hushed air. “I should have known better.”

“Jim.”

Jim’s shoulders draw into a line of tightly leashed frustration and anger. “When will I learn, Spock? When will I stop forgetting? Last time we almost lost him. I’m such a fool!” Damn it, Bones, where are you?

“Danger is inherent in every mission. Like any Starfleet officer, Dr. McCoy knows this. He chose the risk, as you did, Captain, and as I have chosen.” Spock finishes more quietly, “…As we will likely choose again in the near future.”

“But Bones…”

“Is well-trained in survival, sir.”

Jim turns on Spock, not liking that the Vulcan doesn’t seem to share his worry. “I understand that you don’t indulge in rampant emotionalism, Mr. Spock, but now is not the time to feel nothing.”

If it weren’t for Spock’s eyes—those intelligent, expressive eyes—Jim would never be able to tell when his First Officer was affected by something. Now he can see that he has crossed a line he shouldn’t have. Jim begins, “Spock, I—” only to be cut off.

“Captain,” Kirk’s title is said in a flat, dangerous tone, “your presumption is insulting.”

Whatever apology Jim might have made flees. Kirk feels his temper rise, perhaps in a desperate need for an outlet. Leonard commented once that Jim could only internalize his emotions for so long before they took over and found a way out on their own. It seems he was right.

Spock watching him, as a hawk watches the mouse scurrying through the field, only makes things worse. Jim feels his back teeth grinding against each other as the anger crests then breaks.

Presume?” he bursts out, stung and incensed at the same time. “Since when do I make presumptions about you, Spock? I know you, mister, maybe better than you know yourself!”

“And yet when it is convenient to do so, you choose to believe as so many of your illogical species do about the nature of my species.”

“You’re half human!”

“Precisely,” Spock responds, cold, speech clipped. “I am human, and I am Vulcan. No one knows this better than I, Jim. I feel as keenly as a human and as deeply as a Vulcan—whose temperament can far outstrip any anger or grief a human proposes to experience. Do not accuse me of being unfeeling again.”

Jim’s sure footing is fast turning into boggy ground. He grapples for what defense he has left, saying a bit fiercely, “Do you expect me to believe you suddenly care about McCoy?”

“How I perceive Dr. McCoy is neither sudden nor transitory. Yet that matter is, as you humans prefer to say, none of your business. We must find him. Let us focus our energy upon that task, and forget this fruitless argument.” Spock moves away, forcing an abrupt end to the conversation.

It takes a moment for Jim’s body to recall how to move but when it does, he is quick to catch up to Spock and take a hold of the Vulcan by the arms. Jim cannot help the astonishment in his voice, no matter how he tries to soften his question. “What are you saying, Spock? Do you feel… close to Leonard?”

Spock simply looks at him.

Jim points out, “You challenge him at every turn.”

One of Spock’s eyebrows twitches. “I do not challenge Leonard. It is Leonard who challenges me. I merely respond.”

Jim brushes away the inexplicable urge to laugh. “Of course,” he soothes at once. “I meant to say that you two seem to tolerate one another at the best of times.” Which has always bothered me… somehow I think Bones knows that, he realizes, careful not to voice the new thought.

Spock’s gaze drops to Jim’s hand on his right arm, which he wordlessly stares at.

“Oh, sorry,” Jim says, letting go of the Vulcan.

Returning his eyes to meet Jim’s, Spock replies, “Do you wish to know the truth, Captain?”

Jim winces. “Don’t—it’s Jim, Spock. I’m not asking as your captain.” He adds after a momentary pause, “Anything you tell me will stay between us.” He lifts the corners of his mouth. “We are friends after all.”

“Our definitions of friendship may vary.”

Jim’s heart plummets at that lightly said statement, but he tries not to show his hurt. “I’m sure they do,” he agrees somewhat airily, then prompts, “About McCoy?”

For a brief second, it seems as though Spock might turn evasive in his answer. Yet what he tells Jim is not evasive in the least. It is direct, disturbingly so:

“Leonard McCoy and I may not follow the same thought processes. We may not always appreciate the differences between us. Nevertheless, we are equals in our intelligence and our morals. The things we value individually, if not the same, are often complementary. I consider him an excellent companion. With Vulcans, it is logical that a companion of such merit can also become a mate, given an additional compatibility of their minds. I have not, as of yet,” Spock concludes with a trace of regret, “experienced a joining of the mind with Dr. McCoy.”

Jim’s throat works for a moment while he absorbs the implications of what Spock is telling him. In the end, all he can think to say is “You’ve touched my mind.”

“Yes.”

“One more than once, when… when it was necessary,” Jim tacks on, certain it would be a miracle if Spock doesn’t read between the lines and realize why Jim is suddenly struggling to speak.

“That is correct.” The Vulcan standing in front of him looks curious, friendly, not at all like he doesn’t enjoy the reminder of those mind-melds.

This is one of those turning points where a person finds out how courageous he is. Jim has never feared the kind of things most people do—but this, this he could be afraid of. Still, courage—or foolhardiness, depending on how one views the situation—is one of Kirk’s indestructible characteristics. Without it, he wouldn’t be who he is.

He asks of his Vulcan officer and friend, “Are our minds compatible?”

Where Kirk is no coward, neither is Spock. (That is partly why Jim likes him so much.) “Our minds are compatible, Jim, almost seamlessly so, which is precisely why the act leaves no ill effects upon you. It is my suspicion you and I will always be more compatible in this regard than I shall be with Leonard.”

Oh. That is both fantastic and apprehensive news. He feels like he should apologize to Bones at some point, though for what he is not quite sure. “I won’t say I’m upset to hear it, Spock. I know I cannot speak on behalf of McCoy, but you have my blessing. I hope things work out the way you want them to.” Jim goes on to tell the Vulcan seriously, “Once we have Bones back, promise me you won’t wait to talk to him. If he means so much to you, he should know. You said it yourself: by the very nature of our work, we take risks with our lives. There’s no point in missing out on happiness while you can still have it.”

Spock is silent for a short minute. “Admittedly, there are occasions when your behavior seems strange to me, Jim.”

Jim lifts his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“You speak wisely, yet do not consider the wisdom applicable to yourself. Tell me, which of us should yield to the other?”

Jim is usually smart enough to follow Spock’s logic. This time, not so much. “What?”

“In the matter of Dr. McCoy,” Spock explains patiently. “Will you place your own desire aside to allow me the opportunity to pursue mine?”

Jim feels like he should be surprised Spock knows his feelings aren’t strictly platonic concerning Bones, but oddly he isn’t. Instead, Jim grins slightly. “I just said you can take lead, didn’t I, Mr. Spock?”

“Sir, I do not believe you have fully considered the repercussions of your offer.”

Jim gives Spock a slow once-over. “Oh, I haven’t made an offer yet, Spock.”

“Pardon me?” Spock’s eyebrows draw together in confusion.

Jim claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s just say, with this new knowledge, I will definitely be altering my game plan—but I never said I would be give anything, or anyone, up.”

“…I fear I do not understand.”

“You’re right. Fighting is pointless right now. Let’s find Bones. I think that’s the only way to settle things. Also,” Jim looks at the pinkish horizon where the sun has finally appeared, his thoughts turning grim, “pining won’t do either of us much good if we lose him.”

“I advised him to seek shelter in one of these caves.” Spock’s voice is troubled as his eyes skims the face of the cliff. “I can find no signs that he arrived here.”

“Then we will look elsewhere until he is found.” Jim steps back and gives their surroundings another long look. He mutters under his breath, “We should be beyond the second check-in by now. Scotty will know something’s gone amiss and have pinpointed our location.”

“Indeed. If Mr. Scott follows standard procedure, we should meet a second landing party shortly.”

Jim flattens his mouth into a thin line. “I’m not going back to the ship without Bones.”

Strangely, Spock does not reproachful as he remarks, “Your injury, however marginal it may seem to you, does require medical attention, which,” at Jim’s look, he adds too blandly, “is a determination Dr. McCoy is certainly qualified to make once you locate him.”

“Excellent suggestion, Mr. Spock! I like the way you think.”

“I have no doubt that you do, Captain.”

Jim chuckles at the Vulcan’s dry tone and points south. “The geographical report noted another mountainous range to the south. Maybe Bones got turned around.”

“That would have been my next suggestion.”

“Then south we go.”

Together, Jim trying his best to curb his limp, they leave the honeycomb-like structure of caves and head in a new direction.

McCoy’s head hurts. It hurts worse than the time he clipped his head as he fell out of a gigantic tree (he still swears to this day some damned tree spirit had pushed him from behind and laughed gleefully as it did so). It had been a thing of luck Spock was only a few limbs farther up the tree and wearing a new pair of rocket boots. If the Vulcan hadn’t caught McCoy by the back of his tunic and landed them safely on the ground, McCoy hitting his head would have been a trivial injury compared to a broken neck.

As his senses begin to reorient themselves, this is the memory Leonard comes awake to: the air rushing past his face, the panic, the pain—and Spock’s tight grip on his shoulder then later around his waist. Jim hadn’t been with them during that adventure (thank god); otherwise Leonard suspects it would have been Kirk who almost met his end at the base of that planet’s version of an alien redwood.

A grunt somewhere above Leonard, at first sharp then fading, has him focusing his attention on the present. He opens his eyes only to see darkness and blinks several times. The darkness does not abate, but in that dark a form takes a vaguely humanoid shape.

Round head, gleaming eyes. As a face leans in, Leonard can see a slightly squashed nose. The person snorts on him.

McCoy’s heart goes from quiet to frantic in half of a second. He can feel the instant reaction of his limbs to a rush of adrenaline. His upper body coils, then shoots upright. There is a part-squawk, part-scream as the person leaning over him jerks back as Leonard suddenly comes to life.

Some feet away, the darkness is no longer absolute. It is painted with red and orange shadows dancing across the cavern walls.

Fire.

And more humanoids.

The humanoid in front of McCoy is actually quite small. A child, Leonard realizes. Naked and male. Now frightened as it scrambles away towards the fire, whereas it must have been curious before while watching Leonard sleep.

Leonard’s sight goes blurry for a moment and he shakes his head, then immediately wishes he hadn’t. Fighting down a bout of nausea, his fingers find a very sore spot at the back of his head. He remembers being struck.

There were intruders in his cave… or maybe he was the intruder? It is hard to guess, much less to know for certain. One thing is clear however: they hadn’t killed him.

Carefully, quietly, Leonard scoots backwards until he meets solid rock. He can’t run obviously since the entrance to the cave is blocked by the three or four figures of his captors. He doesn’t have his tricorder to get an assessment of his injuries (he would guess he has a mild concussion) or his medkit, so any pain will have to be endured.

I need a weapon, he thinks, feeling cautiously around in the dark next to him. But there is nothing, only tiny shards of rock and a slight dampness to the floor of the cave. Leonard lifts his fingers to inspect the wet substance and pales, recognizing it almost instantly as blood.

Could it be his?

His fingers find the patch again, trace it, track it. The rock is smooth and slightly sticky where some of it has dried; in other places, there are little puddles. Altogether, too much.

Then he finds something that isn’t blood. It feels like matted fur, a strip of it. Shifting the object is enough to create a stench Leonard hadn’t picked out before: animal rot.

Oh god. Have they dragged him back here to lie in a pile of carcasses? Next he will be finding the bones of their last meal and…

Leonard feels sick to his stomach. Forget the last meal, he’s probably the next one!

The low murmurs and quiet rustling near the entrance to the cave is broken by a sharp, foreign cry. It isn’t a bird or any creature Leonard has heard before. It could roughly match a humanoid’s vocals, if the cry was meant to show great pain.

Everything is suddenly too still in the cave. Leonard too becomes motionless, hardly dares to breathe. Then one of the humanoids in the cave raises his voice—no, hers—letting loose a loud but short-lived keen. Like a caterwaul of grief. In response, something outside of the cave howls back.

This is communication, Leonard realizes. They don’t have a language of words like Leonard is used to; but then again, what are words but a series of modulated sounds?

When the cave falls into silence again, Leonard’s breaths have evened out. His thoughts have receded from the point of panic and shifted to focus on a sense of purpose. This is a situation he has to learn how to handle so he can survive. First order of business: don’t die. Second order of business: find Jim or Spock or both.

The little cave boy comes back, scuttling across the cavern floor on all fours like a crab. He stops within an arm’s length of Leonard, stick in hand. Leonard says nothing. The cave boy pokes at Leonard’s boot. Still, Leonard says nothing.

With a grunt, the boy uses the stick to prod farther along McCoy’s leg. It’s difficult but Leonard tries to be very still—until, of course, the boy tries to poke him in the crotch. Leonard says sharply “Stop that!” and swats away the offending branch.

Satisfied, the boy sits back on his haunches and taps the stick rhythmically on the floor. He looks over his shoulder at the adults around the fire for a quick second or two, maybe to see if they are watching, before returning his attention to Leonard.

Gug,” says the boy.

“Leonard,” replies McCoy. “Nice to meet you, Gug.”

“Gug.”

“Sure, kid.” Leonard catches sight of a pair of golden eyes watching them from the opposite side of the fire. “Go tell Mommy and Daddy I’m not staying for dinner.” Especially because I don’t plan on being dinner.

“Gug-a-glug.”

“You sound like Jim when he gets drunk and loses his vowels.”

The boy purses his lips and blows out air. “Pfff.”

“Obviously same intelligence level too. Damn it, Jim,” Leonard murmurs to himself, “I hope you didn’t get yourself killed.”

The adult with the creepy stare makes a low rumble. The boy rocks forward and hunches his shoulders. The rumble increases, and it’s quite an unhappy sound. The boy just thwacks his stick harder on the ground.

Leonard sees where this is headed. “You’re about to get dragged back to the fire by your hair,” he tells the child. “Go on. Shoo.”

The rumble becomes a bark demanding obedience. The boy must not be as stupid as he looks because he finally, though in a sulk, scuttles back toward the fire. Leonard’s tensed muscles loosen and he draws up a knee. There is a tear in his pants leg, he discovers, and a scrape along his shin. He must have done that when he climbed up the cliff face.

“Shoulda stayed on the ship,” Leonard mutters.

Minutes later, there is a new howl from outside. The cavemen around the fire stand up as one. They all have spears, except the child.

Fingers digging futilely into the stone, Leonard’s heart races as two males come toward him at a slow lumber. He almost stays in a sitting position but decides better of it. The odds are better if he is on his feet. There isn’t much of a chance that he could get out of this cave alive if they turned on him but…

What would Jim do?

Jim would fight.

Leonard shudders as one of the cavemen levels a spear at him and grunt something. Probably means, Don’t make a fuss and come to your death. McCoy, since the start of the Enterprise’s five-year mission, has heard that a lot and in many different languages. This is the first in caveman-speak, though.

What would Spock do?

Spock, Leonard decides, would play along until he was within reach to nerve-pinch somebody.

Not for the first time, Leonard vacillates on what to do and comes to the conclusion he cannot be either Jim or Spock. He has to be himself.

And that means patience. Leonard lifts his hands in a universal sign of surrender. This seems to be acceptable to his captors—that is, not threatening behavior—and Leonard is prodded from his spot against the wall toward the fire. Then he is prodded by the spear through the entrance of the cave to its narrow ledge that overlooks the landscape beyond the cliff.

They can’t walk him down. There is no path. He bends his knees in order to grab the edge of the rock and climb down himself. It doesn’t occur to Leonard in that moment that there was never any intention of his safety or well-being; thus he is unprepared for the rough shove from behind. Leonard unbalances with a strangled sound, wobbles on the ledge for an instant, feeling solid rock under him one second and nothing but air the next. Then he plunges downward to meet the bottom of the cliff.

Next Part

So, sorry, one more part before it’s over. This “utterly self-serving K/S/M fic” I planned to write needs a little more love and care than I thought!

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About KLMeri

Owner of SpaceTrio. Co-mod of McSpirk Holiday Fest. Fanfiction author of stories about Kirk, Spock, and McCoy.

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