Title: Little Help (#10, The Drabble Bin)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: McCoy, Spock
Summary: Coda to The Paradise Syndrome. I always felt bad for Kirk at the end of this episode and knew Spock and McCoy would too.
A/N: I’m having one of those days where I am overwhelmed by fandoms that make me cry, and that isn’t always okay. Here, have some tears.
Previous Drabbles: The Old Four | Those Neighborhood Hoodlums | Trapped | A Cage of His Own | Of Perky Starfleet Bottoms | An Hour Past | War of the Bots | The Best Substitute | Surprise Meeting

“I don’t know what I can do.“

The words came from a shadowed corner to greet the silhouette of a tall man backlit by a bright silvery corridor. That silhouette stepped forward and released the door from its patient hold, letting darkness once again consume the details of the observatory. Footfalls soft, he ventured to the wide, window-paned wall and observed the glittering starlight and how, tonight, it seemed out of reach. Shortly a presence joined him, the owner of the quiet confession that had drawn him into the room.

“You should rest,” he told the stoop-shouldered figure at his side.

The eyes watching him in the dark seemed at once luminous and duller than they should be. His feelings compounded until he could barely sort through them and watched with helplessness as they mixed and muddied so that tucking them away would be a tiring feat. It was a symptom that he was not at the peak of health himself, the long days with little reprieve from enforced awareness having taken their toll both on his body and the mental stability he required for control.

He knew he must sleep also, that it was imperative, but could not shake his restlessness—or the slippery, ugly thing called guilt. In this, Spock suspected, he and Dr. Leonard McCoy were alike. If he could bear the burden alone, he would.

“Doctor, the hour is late. Allow me to escort you to your quarters.”

This seemed like the proper thing to say. He had come here with the intention of explaining to the human that it was in his best interest to rest when he could. One of them needed to be alert, and while he was not at the point that his exhaustion would physically impair him, he needed the assurance that there was one officer aboard who would see the starship and her captain safely to their starbase destination for new outfitting and personnel recuperation. Some time ago, it would have surprised him that he considered McCoy to be the person he trusted with the duties that mattered most to him but, given in particular the past month they had spent in command on the Enterprise, Spock simply knew it to be so.

However, he saw that the human was not ready to listen. McCoy’s attention had turned to the viewing pane, and the light from the visible celestial bodies cast the man’s face into stark relief, deepening the hollows under his eyes and bringing forth lines of age and sadness.

Spock stayed quiet, for as the doctor had said earlier knowing what to do was beyond them both. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged it was a small solace not to alone have this fault.

Minutes passed. He did not count them. Eventually McCoy spoke.

“You would think, as advanced as our species claim to be, we would be beyond this by now. Having our hearts broken,” the doctor clarified when Spock kept his silence.

“It is a condition that cannot be avoided.”

McCoy sighed softly through his nose. “Don’t you mean a human condition, Spock?”

“No,” Spock said simply, watching the same pattern of stars as McCoy.

McCoy lowered his head slowly. Spock kept his gaze fixed ahead, allowing the doctor privacy for his tears.

“I don’t know how to help him,” the human said, voice tired, thick, wavering with emotion.

“Nor do I,” confessed the Vulcan. “But I can,” he added gently, “walk you back to your quarters. Come.”

It was not that the doctor was so easily coaxed, Spock understood, but that McCoy knew this was a request from someone who felt as powerless in the face of Kirk’s grief as he did and needed to lend help where it could be accepted, if only in a small, indirect way. So they left the observatory together, McCoy trailing at Spock’s shoulder, both men hoping in their hearts that tomorrow was the day they figured out how to comfort a mutual friend.

-Fini

Dreaming

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