Title: Wishing Our Troubles Away (3/3)
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 Parts: 1 | 2
Or read at AO3

Part Three

Dying means many things to Leonard. He won’t get to make the memories he has always wanted for himself—memories of family and loved ones, the kind of good memories that can warm old bones even years afterward; his untimely death will hurt some of his closest relatives and friends; and more importantly, that difference he hoped to make some day in his field, the research he won’t finish and the lives he won’t save—gone in the blink of an eye.

The thought of death is terrifying, but Leonard is more terrified of losing his chance to be happy again. He wants that most of all. He spent a long time trudging through the days of each year without truly taking pleasure in them. Finally, a healing seems be occurring in him. He laughs more freely, and that laughter is genuine when it comes; often now he wakes up thinking the day is going to be a very good one. Being out here, in space with Starfleet, has given him a way to move past his misery.

And yet someone is trying to take that from him.

The caveman’s two-handed shove sends Leonard over the narrow ledge. The drop is vertical for the first ten feet; then the cliff slopes gently outward, like an distended belly, having been carefully carved by time and rough weather into shelf-like plateaus of rock. Leonard hits the slope on his left side, bruises the muscle of his shoulder at the force of the impact. But even by then his momentum is too great to stop, and he tumble-slides several more feet until, miraculously, his shirt sleeve catches on a small root poking through the rock. Leonard jerks to a halt near the edge of the plateau, legs dangling over its side. There is still a great distance between him and the ground.

The fabric of the shirt sleeve tears into a long hole just below the wrist’s hemline. It’s like an invisible person has caught Leonard and is trying to hold onto him but is quickly losing his grip. Leonard flails out with his free hand. His fingers skim over the rock looking for a handhold. The heels of his boots scrap helplessly across the sandstone-smooth surface of the cliff-side.

He does not secure his position in time. The torn sleeve gives way to Leonard’s body weight, and gravity takes over again.

Maybe it is the spark of anger beneath Leonard’s terror that pushes him to fight back. With a cry, he twists over onto his stomach and juts out his elbows, using a sudden burst of strength to cling to the edge of the plateau. The next drop will likely crack his head open or break his back. His memory is fuzzy on how he had gotten up to the cave; he’d been on automatic pilot, as worn out as he was, but he had to have hauled himself up to each ledge.

Don’t look down, Leonard reminds himself grimly, grunting with the effort of holding on. Wall—find a wall!

Kicking out with one leg almost costs him his precious hold. His elbows slide another inch off the edge. Panic wants to take over. He’s going to fall. Any second now, he’s going to fall…

No, not yet. Can’t fall. Can’t die, he tells himself stubbornly. More cautiously this time, Leonard reaches out with his leg—and almost whimpers in relief when he plants a boot against a solid surface.

This is worse than the time Jim had made him go rock-climbing inside one of the Academy’s gyms; no, maybe it’s not. Leonard remembers slipping off that contraption, saved only by the rope hooked onto his belt from falling to certain death. From the very top of the wall, Jim had grinned down at a McCoy swinging back and forth in the air like a grumpy marionette and said, “You’re doing great! You almost made it halfway this time, Bones!”

He had wanted to punch Jim in the face. Instead, he let the kid buy him a consolation drink.

Check your hold, then push hard with your legs, Leonard thinks, remembering the way Jim had scrambled across that wall like he was having the best day of his life, calling out instructions to Leonard.

He doesn’t have a good hold with only his forearms anchored against the rock, but that cannot matter. He braces the soles of his boots against the wall and pushes, using his upper body strength to haul himself upwards. It works at first, gaining him an inch or two.

Leonard makes a strangled noise and tries harder. Elbows make it back onto the rock but he can’t keep this up—can’t go farther. One foot slips loose; he’s only braced by the toes of his other foot and he has run out of leverage.

Determined, thinking of Jim on every insane mission fighting tooth and nail to win when the odds are down, thinking of a certain Vulcan who would have three times the strength McCoy does, who would give Leonard the extra boost he needs if he was there…

A cry rips out of McCoy’s throat as he throws himself forward with the last vestiges of his will. In a desperate struggle he heaves his body upward until he is lying chest against the stone. Cheek pressed to the cold surface, he makes a half-laugh, half-sob before dragging in several much-needed deep breaths.

Afterwards, pulling himself the rest of the way to safety is more exhausting than thrilling. When Leonard is stretched across the angled plateau, he closes his eyes and tries to imagine himself melting into the cliff. He could cling here for eternity, he thinks, if necessary. No one is moving from him this spot unless they have equipment to pry him off like a barnacle on the side of a sailboat.

This, of course, is when a caveman comes expertly skating down the side of the cliff and stops just a few feet shy of Leonard’s head, showering Leonard with bits of dirt and rock and some kind of white shale. The caveman hunkers there and looks McCoy over.

“Get away from me,” Leonard tells him testily, voice hoarse.

The caveman grunts and leans forward on the knuckles of his hands. Leonard thinks these humanoids must be very well adapted to living in cliff-caves, because it’s unnatural how at ease they seem with moving over the sharp rocks and down dangerous cliffs, like spiders picking their way across webs of their own making. Maybe their skin isn’t like his; maybe it is designed just for some kind of spider-rock-walking. He’s seen stranger things in his lifetime. Part of him thinks of how much Spock would love to study these people.

Another caveman appears next to the one observing Leonard like a bug under glass and raises one of their crudely made spears. He bangs the blunt end against the rockface, gives Leonard a narrow-eyed look, and tilts his head back to howl. The noise raises the hairs on the back of Leonard’s neck to the point that he feels electrified by his fear.

This isn’t going to get better, he realizes as the caveman without the spear reaches for Leonard’s vulnerable wrist.

But they don’t dislodge him and toss him the remainder of the way to the cliff’s bottom. They drag him back up to the ledge of the cave and sit him there next to a very widely grinning cave boy.

“Gug,” says Leonard’s newfound friend, as if he’s very proud of Leonard for not dying.

Leonard doesn’t know what to say in response. He simply stares.

If Jim has ever felt fear in his life, it is the moment he realizes McCoy is in the kind of danger Jim can’t get him out of.

“Your analysis, Mr. Spock,” Kirk demands quietly from where he is crouched.

Spock is silent a second too long in Jim’s opinion before he replies. “It grieves me to say this, Captain, but we cannot reveal ourselves in our present state.”

“They’ve already seen us,” Jim argues, though he knows in his heart that fact cannot matter. Still, he needs to hear Spock say it so he doesn’t feel so awful in his conclusion.

“Correct, though at the time it was not in our power to prevent such an occurrence. However, this is clearly a budding civilization.” Spock’s tone lowers slightly. “Jim, you understand the regulations we must follow as well as I.”

Jim looks at his First Officer, whose gaze is heavy but full of trust, and realizes slowly that Spock is trying to tell him something he doesn’t want to put into words. Returning his gaze to the scene before him, where a disheveled McCoy is perched halfway up a cliff, one leg drawn up to his chest and the other hanging off the side of a ledge as he gestures at a small child, Jim thinks hard about what he can do as opposed to what he can’t.

No weapons can be used, not even the partly functional phaser they recovered during the brawl (the one where Spock saved Jim’s life by nerve-pinching his assailant). No transporting McCoy out from under the noses of the natives unless they can isolate him first. Simply put, he has to be able to walk in there and—

Jim curls a hand into a fist and lightly thumps the rock he and Spock are hiding behind in triumph. “How much of Earth’s history have you studied?”

“All of it.”

“Then unfortunately you know we humans have a slightly barbaric side to us.”

Jim can read the amusement in Spock’s voice when he says, “Only slightly, Captain?”

Allowing himself a brief smile, Jim cuts his eyes at the Vulcan. “Look at them, Spock. They’re far enough along in evolution to have a community—which means they understand the concept of family. I think with a little basic communication we can establish that Bones belongs with us.”

“If we are discussing the behavior of humans, Jim, then I might remind you there was several periods in Earth history in which one person was considered the property of another person simply through invasion and force. You cannot make the assumption they will allow us to take him without challenge.”

“Exactly. We challenge them!” If Jim sounds excited about this prospect, Spock is gracious enough not to mention how illogical that is. “Surely there was a point where your people didn’t always adhere to logic, Spock, when declaring a rightful claim.”

Spock’s silence would seem odd to Jim if he was paying close attention, but he is fixated on memorizing the layout of the cliff and its caves. He only partly catches the Vulcan’s low response of “…Yes, it was common in the time of our ancestors.”

Jim goes on to study the different groups of natives: those that seem like the hunters and defenders (stationed at the edges of the territory like soliders, Jim thinks) and the small pocket of females and children just inside the cave closest to McCoy. Next to Jim, Spock adds cryptically “It still is” and rises to his feet. Surprised by the motion, Kirk grabs Spock’s wrist. “Wait a minute, we need a plan!”

The Vulcan looks down at him, expression remarkably calm. “There is a plan. We take what is ours.”

“This isn’t a fight.”

“I highly doubt the ‘challenge’ will involve a discussion, Captain.”

Jim rocks back on his heels for a second, bemused, before making a quick decision and standing up. “You seem to know what you’re about, Mr. Spock. All right, you’re in the lead.”

Amused for some reason, Spock replies, “You may release me now, Jim. Also, I believe you already offered me the lead.”

It strikes Kirk then, as he lets go of Spock’s wrist, exactly what the Vulcan is talking about—and what he is preparing to do. “So that’s what this is,” Jim says with approval. “I have to admit, I thought your method of courting would be a little less…”

“Aggressive?”

Jim grins. “Illogical.”

Spock doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Aggression can be logical, given the right circumstances.”

“…I could totally make an inappropriate joke here, Spock.”

“I would rather you restrained yourself.”

Jim chuckles and tucks their only weapon, a battered-looking phaser, into the back of his pants. Then he shucks his shirt. As Spock’s eyebrows draw together in befuddlement, Jim beams and puffs out his chest. “We’re going native,” he says. He completely expects the long pause from his second-in-command.

“…Jim, the natives are naked.” Spock sounds more than slightly appalled at the suggestion of discarding his clothing.

Jim considers the rest of his outfit with a critical eye. “I suppose we don’t have to be nude to make a point.”

“I would hope so,” Spock begins, reluctantly tugging at the tail of his uniform shirt, “for I have no desire to beam aboard the Enterprise without pants.”

“Pretty sure I’ve done that at least once.”

“Three times, Captain.”

“Dare I ask why you’re keeping count, Commander?”

“I am composing a biography,” the Vulcan deadpans, “of your most embarrassing exploits.”

Jim bursts out laughing, only to clamp a hand over his mouth as he remembers they are in enemy territory. He clears his throat rather sheepishly. “You do have a sense of humor. Bones is so wrong.”

Whatever Spock meant to say in response dies when he turns abruptly, eyes alert, and shifts his stance to a posture just on the cusp of defensive. In a heartbeat, Jim is at Spock’s side. “What is it?” he asks quietly. But he need not have voiced the question.

Four cavemen march around the outcropping of rock, spears at the ready. Jim suppresses his immediate instinct to act. In return, the cavemen don’t charge them like they did the first time they met Kirk wandering in the middle of their desert planet.

Jim lifts his hands, neither smiling nor frowning. He tries to appear as neutral as possible to the outcome of being surrounded. For some reason, it works—or he thinks it does until one of the natives looses a snarl and raises his spear threateningly. Jim has a moment of recognition. He had definitely punched that one in the face at some point during yesterday’s tussle.

Another native barks out a command and bangs his spear against the raised one. He does it a second time. So, Jim decides, Long Hair is the leader of the tribe. Jim can deal with that. He slowly circles his would-be attackers, at first with a few tentative steps, then with more confidence when they don’t stop him. The leader watches Kirk with his dark, intelligent eyes. When Jim is far enough away from the rocks that he has a clear view of the cliff, he stretches out one hand and points at McCoy.

“Mine,” he says, low, guttural. He points to himself, to Spock, and then again to the distant figure that is his Chief Medical Officer.

Long Hair grunts and turns to study the bare-chested Spock. Jim truly hopes the natives of this planet don’t have a superstition against humanoids with pointed ears. Of course, if they do not now, no doubt they will once Kirk and his crew are gone. That’s definitely not something to mention in the report to Starfleet Command.

Spock follows Jim’s example and points to McCoy.

Long Hair snorts and strikes his spear on the ground. The cavemen around him shift with unease but the leader does it again, this time more forcefully. They back away from Kirk and Spock. Jims looks to his friend and officer and says, “I think we got through to them.”

Then the leader tips his head back and howls. All of the males in the area return the howl as one unit.

And Jim’s good feeling turns bad.

Oh what the… that cannot be who he thinks it is.

Leonard shades his eyes from the sun and, no, he’s not hallucinating. It’s Jim, as clear as day. The sunlight turns Jim’s head into a crown of gold. Leonard could never mistake that rich color, especially when among all of these dark-haired people. He relaxes his strained eyes briefly before focusing them again.

And how surprising, Jim has lost his shirt. Leonard allows himself a snort of amusement. Then another figure moves into view alongside Kirk, and Leonard almost falls off his ledge.

Spock is shirtless too.

For a long moment, Leonard can’t think enough to speak. No Vulcan loses his shirt haphazardly, and definitely not Spock. This may be a dry, dusty planet but it isn’t of the likes of Spock’s homeworld. The idiot is going to freeze!

Leonard’s stomach sinks with a new suspicion.

Oh sweet Jesus, what are they up?

He drops the hand from his eyes and crouches along the ledge. There has to be a way to the ground. If he climbed up, he can climb down, for god’s sake! Maybe he is muttering, because a small face pokes into his line of sight and goes, “Gug-a-glug?”

Leonard looks at Gug, the cave boy who likes to spend his time squashing little ants and presenting them to Leonard. He points down the cliff. “Down. Go down.”

Gug grins, showing the gap between his front teeth.

“This is not a game!” Leonard cries with frustration. But how can he make the child understand that? Damn it, there’s nothing he can do but exactly what he doesn’t want to. Leonard slings a leg over the edge and prays to every deity he can think of that he isn’t going to fall.

Gug’s eyes grow wide and he makes a sound of alarm. Leonard ignores him, trying to figure out where the heck he can put the toe of his boot and have it hold his weight. How in god’s name did he manage to get up here last night? He must have flown!

For the first time since they met, Gug looks distressed. He scampers out of Leonard’s sight and into the cave to the circle of adults.

Jim starts forward, his fear suddenly back to steal his breath. “What is he doing?“

McCoy is hanging more than halfway off of a ledge, and the drop is too far for the man to fall and not injury himself.

Unfortunately, when Jim leaps into action to commence with a rescue (wherein he magically scales the cliff and saves McCoy from a harebrained scheme) the leader throws his spear directly into the dirt at Jim’s feet in warning. Jim whirls on the caveman, furious.

“He’s going to die!” he shouts, pointing wildly in Bones’s direction.

Long Hair takes another spear from one of his men, un-intimidated by the yelling.

In the next instant Kirk turns to his First Officer, and they share a look. Jim has no intention of standing there and watching his friend get himself killed. They don’t need words, he and Spock, to understand one another. Jim will seize the opportunity to run, and Spock will prevent anyone from going after him. No one dies today: not him, not Spock, and definitely not McCoy.

Every fiber of his being is prepared.

But not for what actually happens.

One of the females comes out of the cave and peers down at McCoy’s head. The boy-child at her side dances from foot to foot with impatience; he might be fussing. Jim can’t tell from this distance. She reaches down and plucks up McCoy like he is no bigger than the boy and hugs him to her chest. Then she leaps partway down the cliff and begins a winding path to its base.

A tension drains out of Jim when the female sets Bones on the ground, slaps at a curious male who comes over to see what she’s doing, and turns around in a great huff to ascend the cliff again. Without thinking, Jim breaks into a slow jog, crossing the length of open ground between him and his quarry.

“Bones!” he calls. McCoy’s head lifts when Jim is no more than two arm’s lengths away. “Bones,” Jim repeats, voice more gentle, as he comes abreast of the man. “You okay?”

Leonard’s expression is difficult to read. “I… don’t know,” replies the doctor slowly. “What just happened?”

Jim squats next to McCoy. “I’d say you had a piggyback ride.”

McCoy’s voice sours. “…I’m too old for this shit, Jim.”

And the Bones he knows and loves is back. But just to make certain, Jim lays a hand on Leonard’s shoulder. Leonard’s fingers automatically curl around his. Jim goes limp for a moment in relief before withdrawing his hand in order to assist Bones to his feet.

When they stand up together, Jim realizes Spock has been behind his shoulder the entire time. He also realizes the band of natives have followed them over and formed a half-circle to his right. It looks as though the fight is going to happen whether Jim is ready for it or not. He squares his shoulders.

Long Hair steps forward to meet him and points at McCoy. Then he grunts something and points at Kirk.

Not taking his eyes off of the leader, Jim asks Spock, “What are the odds of us walking out of here unchallenged?” Next to Jim, McCoy stiffens.

“You might prefer that I do not answer that question, Captain.”

“Bones?”

“Jim,” Leonard’s voice is low and cautious but very sincere, “they haven’t really hurt me—”

Oh, that’s a lie. Bones is a poor liar. Which means those cuts on Leonard’s hands and the smell of dried blood will tell a truth Jim needs to hear. But he keeps his thoughts to himself because now is not the time to argue about what did or didn’t happen to one of his men.

“—so let’s just… get the hell out of here. Mr. Spock, what are you doing?” snaps McCoy.

“You are favoring your left arm, Doctor. Are you injured?”

“No, maybe—damn it! Stop that! No amount of poking is going to help us right now, you pointy-eared nincompoop!”

Jim turns at the same time Bones bumps into him.

“Jim,” Bones sounds more flustered than irritated, “call off your dog.”

The Vulcan leans into Leonard’s space, his brows angled severely downward, which causes Leonard to lean farther into Jim’s space. Jim wraps an arm around McCoy’s waist to steady them both so they don’t fall over.

Spock gives Leonard one last long, intense stare before he eases backward, saying, “I am not fond of these new references to my person, Dr. McCoy.”

Jim watches, mildly amused, as Bones flounders for a retort.

“What do you mean, you’re not fond of them? You don’t get a say in what I call you, you—green-blooded hobgoblin!”

The look in Spock’s eyes clears somewhat. “Ah,” he says, and nothing more.

Looking from Spock to McCoy and back again, Jim realizes he should have noticed the attraction sooner.

It’s the thump of a spear butt on the ground which draws the three men from their own little world. Once again, Long Hair points from Leonard to Jim. The motion has less patience than it did before.

Jim doesn’t know quite what to make of the gesture but he figures they shouldn’t waste time trying to find out. He tells Spock to take McCoy and move away. Jim expects the response to be threatening at best and bloody at worst.

…Except nothing happens. Spock draws Leonard farther from the cliff and its caves, and not a thing happens.

“Jim!” Bones calls hurriedly. “C’mon! Let’s get out of here while they’re feeling generous!”

He takes two steps in the direction of Spock and McCoy—and is halted by a spear blocking his path. Long Hair smiles (actually smiles) like he is pleased about something. That’s when Jim realizes he made a mistake in not trying to understand those details.

“Spock,” Kirk hears Leonard say, or gasp, “it’s a trade… you traded me for Jim?“

Jim can’t hear the Vulcan’s reply. The half-circle of cavemen close in on him, and Jim falls into a defensive stance. He can handle this, he tells himself, so long as Spock and Bones make their escape. If it isn’t like déjà-vu, the thought comes unbidden, when a long meaty arm reaches out to grab his hair…

And suddenly there is chaos.

One of the males face-plants on the dirt; another swings his spear wildly at an assailant, only to have said spear snatched out of his hands and snapped in half like a twig. Long Hair (the one who had been about to put his hands on Jim) turns, barking out something in a sharp tone, and in the next instant is choking to death.

Then Bones is there between Jim and the man being choked, hands clamped over Spock’s like he thinks he can break the Vulcan’s hold. Jim inhales one painful breath. He has seen Spock in a rage. This is far more terrifying. There is no hint of anger on Spock’s face now, just a deadly calm.

“Stop!” Jim hears himself cry out. “Spock, let him go!”

And Spock does, as if all he had needed was a command from Jim. Long Hair drops like a deadweight to the ground, gasps pathetically, and wiggles away from them. In his escape, he finds the broken half of a spear and staggers back to his feet, looking terrified as he thrusts it in their direction.

Spock merely stares at the idiot.

Then, without warning, the Vulcan spins around and takes a hold of Jim—Jim recognizes the intent far too late to protest properly—and swings Kirk over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Jim never wants to relive that moment again, certain what comes out his mouth is the least manly sound he has ever made in his life.

“Uh,” McCoy says intelligently, to which Jim has no reply. Then Spock starts walking and Leonard is walking too, but not by choice. If Jim cranes his neck far enough at an angle he can see that Spock has a vice-like grip on McCoy’s wrist and is basically dragging the man alongside them.

“Well,” Jim will say later once Spock has resurfaced from whatever frightening stupor had taken hold of him during the fray, “that was not how I imagined this happening.” At least, not the part where he’s toted around like an ailing princess.

Across from a seated and dirty Jim, Leonard wearily lifts his head and looks confused. “What are you talking about?”

Jim dares to glance at the turned back of the Vulcan, who is trying to preserve the last shreds of his dignity under the guise of keeping a lookout for the Enterprise’s second landing party. They don’t anticipate anyone else trying to bother them after Spock’s disturbing display of violence. Vulcan ancestors, Jim thinks, have nothing on Spock.

“Don’t worry about it, Bones,” he tells his friend. “You’ll know soon enough.” He smiles and nods in the direction of their third companion. “When he’s in a better mood to explain.”

Spock reacts by looking sharply at Jim over his shoulder. His eyes are still a touch too dark but otherwise he appears composed. “You said you would make an offer,” he remarks.

Leonard stops massaging his shoulder to consider them, frowning.

Jim’s attention stays focused on Spock. “I said you haven’t heard mine yet.”

“Then you will tell it to me now.”

Jim relaxes against his corner of a boulder. “I think you know what it is, Spock.”

“Damn it, we’ve only been apart for half of a day. What have I missed?” demands McCoy.

Spock’s silence is long and thoughtful. In the meantime, Jim finds Bones’ hand and takes it between his own. Leonard gives him an odd look but doesn’t pull away.

“So, Bones,” Jim begins, “have we explained all of the benefits of a Vulcan mind-meld yet? You know, it would be a lot harder for someone to keep us separated if we could sense each other over long distances…”

Spock is listening and not so much absorbing Jim’s proposal, Jim decides, as silently lauding its genius. Jim is, after all, smart enough and persuasive enough to know how to get what he wants once he figures out he wants it. And this, these two men, he wants very badly.

So he forges on in his most convincing voice, thinking if he can’t seal the deal now, there will be many more opportunities to pursue his desire. Another stolen glance at Spock confirms that he already has one solid supporter in his corner. Bones will be in agreement before long. Why have a dynamic duo when there can be three?

There’s something wrong with Jim and Spock, thinks McCoy as Jim starts in with his sweet-talking. Do they really believe he is that stupid?

Well, maybe he is. Sometimes. His own confused feelings led him into this damn mission. His aches and pains are going to remind him of that for a long while.

And yet he’s not really worried about his confusion now. It cleared up fairly fast when Leonard had realized that Jim was trapped in his place, and he had turned to Spock in part anger and part fear. Spock had said, strangely, to Leonard’s accusation of “you traded me for Jim?”:

“No. He’s ours.”

Ours.

Simple, possessive, and effective.

And here Jim is, talking like Leonard ought to belong to him and Spock. Oh, these poor fools.

Leonard pats Jim’s hand with his free one and smiles dumbly as if he only understands half of what Jim is trying to tell him about mental bonds and partnerships.

They don’t know it yet but he isn’t theirs. They’re his. But he’ll make them work for it just a little bit. It wouldn’t do to be too easy.

Leonard’s smile almost widens as he tips his head back to consider his tall Vulcan shadow, but he catches himself in time so he does not give away the game. In the distance, they all hear an excited shout of “Captain!“

Oh yes, tomorrow is going to be a very good day.

-Fini

Related Posts:

• Wishing Our Troubles Away (2/3) – from December 30, 2012
• Wishing Our Troubles Away (1/3) – from December 28, 2012