Title: What We Feel (2/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Spock asks Jim and Leonard to consider their future together.
Previous Part: 1
Or read at AO3

Threats with eating utensils aside, I will continue this story. When I dreamt of Spock approaching Jim and Bones, I woke with the feeling of… why haven’t I read that? The closest K/S/M fic I can recall where Spock unrepentantly takes the initiative and pursues his humans is the fantastic piece That’s Why You Close Your Eyes by lilbatfacedgirl. There needs to be more K/S/M-love in general and more take-charge!Spock in particular.

Part Two

He tries to concentrate on work but he cannot. McCoy closes his office door in Sickbay—a strange occurrence that will cause his staff to pause and wonder—in order to engage in a private castigation of himself for failing to focus on his patients.

“Quit daydreamin’!” he says fiercely, desperately.

A part of Leonard argues that he cannot take care of others if he cannot take care of himself first.

He has had much practice at pushing aside personal feelings, shoving internal drama to the back of his mind, so that he can save lives. The problem is that no one needs saving right now. The medical bay is quiet, his nurses occupying themselves with re-arranging supplies or organizing paperwork for him to peruse later. Even Dr. M’Benga has pinned the CMO with a bored look and said, “I never thought I’d wish for a slow day to end.”

It is Spock’s fault that McCoy is reduced to accidental jabs of his finger on a needle because he keeps forgetting that he is holding one.

At the thought of the source of his distraction, Leonard closes his eyes and brings a hand up to his forehead in a natural gesture of dear Lord, help me.

McCoy almost wants to yell at the Vulcan for stirring up his life when he was perfectly settled and content.

Except Spock obviously was not content, was he?

Leonard has a soft and sympathetic heart; he couldn’t blame Spock even if he wanted to. Truthfully, the doctor understands that his bouts of anger are misdirected; he is angry with himself.

He should have known.

Sure, Vulcans are the toughest creatures in the galaxy to read emotionally, given that the race refuses to act on emotion. Spock, though—Spock has been his friend for many years; McCoy had thought he was pretty good at noticing the infinitesimal signs of an upset half-Vulcan.

Pulling out a chair, the man drops down and pillows his head on the edge of his desk, whole-heartedly glad that no one can see him do so. He thinks the three words that he has been trying to avoid for two days, words that make his heart rate speed up and his hands shake: Spock loves me.

Does the Vulcan realize how much Leonard needs to hear someone tell him that? How he craves that expression, has tears in his eyes when his daughters says, albeit casually, “Love you, Daddy.”

Despite what Spock thinks, Leonard is rational. He knows and understands where his vulnerabilities lie; he is aware that his first instinct will always be to step back from intimacy or commitment, and that the scars on his heart (reminders of a betrayal ages ago) shall never go away.

Leonard McCoy is not a broken man, but he is a terrified one.

The realization comes to him belatedly as he wipes his face, resolved to resume his work day, that while Spock’s feelings may have startled him (made Leonard question if such a thing could be real) McCoy has not once pondered if he loves Spock in return.

~~~
before…

The entire situation is insane. Spock collapses on the Bridge, brain-napped.

As Jim grasps onto a tiny thread of hope—an ion trail that may lead the Enterprise to the thieves with Spock’s brain, or nowhere at all—Leonard stands next to an empty body and tentatively brushes a hand over the Vulcan’s black hair. He is torn between the knowledge that any other medical officer would declare Spock clinically dead, and knowing that he, Leonard H. McCoy, is incapable of doing so while there is breath still filling Spock’s lungs.

It reminds him too sharply of his father, dying and unable to help his body die.

Leonard made a choice then, not as a doctor, bound by an oath to do no harm, but as a son granting mercy. He had thought there was no hope, no cure, and peremptorily killed his father when…

No.

Don’t think of it.

Can Spock be saved? If not, will Leonard choose to let this body, a husk without a soul, go? Does he have a right to make that choice for Spock?

He sits gently on the edge of the biobed, hands useless at his sides. When Leonard thinks of never seeing Spock again, his heart hurts.

No more arguments. How silly, their arguments; yet neither Spock nor McCoy can seem to stop butting heads. Leonard admits to a certain degree of pleasure when Spock responds automatically to his jabs. The Captain and the First Officer may enjoy a physical spar, but verbal spars are for Leonard and Spock. It is, while not a unique interaction, a large part of their common bond.

If Spock is gone, there will be something lost that Leonard knows he will never have again.

“Doctor?”

Leonard hears Christine before he sees her. He stands up, face slightly warm at the thought of being caught staring at Spock.

His head nurse makes a few notations on her PADD as she reads the monitor above the biobed. Leonard feels foolish and awkward (empty-handed and silent) in his own medical bay—a state which, were he to consider it fully, would strike him as unusual.

Chapel talks to the doctor, her eyes trained on her work. “Spock would be fascinated by this.”

Leonard stiffens. “He’s missing a brain. Fascinating is not the word.”

Her laugh is light. “Consider how smoothly it was done, without a single nerve-ending damaged! I have to admit… from a medical perspective I am fascinated too.” Christine glances at him.

McCoy cannot argue that his inner scientist isn’t intrigued, straining to know how the procedure was accomplished, how he might learn to do something like that. Yet Leonard finds himself saying, “This is Spock we’re talking about. Spock, not a lab experiment! He could die—and that doesn’t bother you?”

She lowers her PADD, letting it slip onto the biobed, and faces him. Her words are hot. “If I didn’t know how upset you are right now, I would slap you, Leonard—superior officer or not.”

He realizes then that he just accused Christine of not caring about Spock. They both know she feels for the Vulcan more than most people. With a slump of his shoulders, the man apologizes.

Christine walks up to him and touches his cheek, sympathy readable in her face. “You have to believe that he’ll be alright, Doctor McCoy.” She tries to smile but her mouth trembles at the edges. “I know it isn’t easy. We’re trained to see the reality of every medical case that passes through our hands, even when that reality is a hopeless one—but, Leonard, there is hope for Spock.”

He is struck by the fierceness of her belief and feels his own spirits lift in response. Taking a long look at the pale body of his patient, Leonard decides to fight against despair—for Spock, because he owes the Vulcan an equal dedication which the First Officer has given to the task of helping many officers in the past.

“Okay,” he says. “I won’t give up.”

The woman drops her hand and steps back. “I know you won’t. Spock matters to you.”

He tries to downplay the zing of shock which runs along his spine. “The hobgoblin’s as much a fixture of the Enterprise as the rest of us stubborn fools this starship can’t shake off.”

Chapel tucks a pen into her hand. “We’re lucky to have him.”

Yes, we are. He clears his throat instead and asks, “What needs doin’?” With a bit of a blush, he realizes, “I forgot my schedule. Lord, who was I supposed to take a look at?”

“Don’t worry about today’s schedule,” the nurse tells him as she collects her discarded PADD. “We are handling the other cases. Focus on Spock.”

By “we” Leonard decides that she means everyone but the CMO.

The nurse leaves the isolation unit and Leonard is alone with Spock again. He resumes his spot next to the Vulcan. It isn’t until a tired but triumphant Jim shows up three hours later to announce that the culprit who stole their Spock away is only a planet beyond reach that Leonard recognizes the significance of his cleared schedule and why the medical staff seems almost hesitant to interrupt his vigil over Spock.

They are extending to him the same courtesy which he would grant a patient’s family who did not wish to leave their loved one’s side.

Spock… is special to him.

Could it speak, Leonard’s heart would say, “Of course, dummy! I’ve always known that.”

~~~

Jim sits up straight, stares dutifully at the Bridge screen of stars, hands crossed on one knee, and…

Completely zones out.

“—tain.” A five second pause. “Captain.”

Only a voice too close to his ear shocks the man back into the present. Head swiveling, Jim attempts to look like he hasn’t just been caught in an embarrassing equivalent of falling asleep on the job.

“Yes, Spo—” He has to clear his throat so that his voice isn’t overly squeaky. “—Mr. Spock?”

“Captain,” replies his First Officer serenely. “Alpha shift has ended.”

Jim opens his mouth once, then quickly closes it. Looking around, he realizes that the crewmen manning the Bridge stations are not the same people who had been present when his mind wandered off.

“Right. Thanks,” he says as he stands and cracks his back with a grimace. Spock moves aside so that Jim may pass without brushing against the Vulcan. Kirk says nothing as Spock joins him in the turbolift.

They are six flights deep into the ship when he remarks, “Let’s keep my… lapse between us, Mr. Spock.”

“What lapse, Captain?”

Bless Spock. Then, thinking that he is starting to sound like Bones, Jim lightly pats Spock on the shoulder and exits the lift at his level. He feels Spock’s eyes on his back until the lift resumes its descent. As Jim Kirk strips off his shirt in the privacy of the Captain’s quarters, he imagines the sensation of Spock watching him. His shower is a hasty one, full of curses and a tenuous moment in which he almost face-plants on the bathroom floor because his feet are acting like two bumbling idiots.

“I’m too old for this!” Kirk gripes, catching himself on the doorjamb, one elbow awkwardly jammed into a clean shirt.

There’s Bones again.

Jim shivers.

What is the matter with him?

Sighing and rubbing at a temple where an aching turns steadily into a pounding, he lies down on his bed in cool darkness and closes his eyes.

Spock is his friend.

Can Spock be more than his friend?

By regulations, by the creed of a commanding officer, the answer is no.

Jim, however, is a man who acknowledges the rules of the heart first. There are times when, as a captain responsible for more lives than just his own, he denies what his heart tells him and follows a different path for the good of the many; there are times when he has to break his heart in order to do what is right.

But when James Kirk can act as he pleases, as his heart demands, he does so without restraint and without hesitation.

Frustrated now, Jim smacks a fist against the coverlet beneath him.

Why is this choice so difficult?

He does love Spock like a brother; yet Jim knows that he would have said no if that were the sole depth of his feeling for his Vulcan First Officer. Something had stopped Jim from denying the possibility of more—and not because he didn’t want to hurt the person who had bared his feelings and trusted Jim not to rip them to shreds.

Sounds like you’re making a mountain out of a mole hill, Jim-boy!

He rolls over to laugh into his pillow.

Bones.

Good old Bones.

Perhaps Jim is unable to get the doctor off his mind because Leonard is undoubtedly suffering as he is. Uncertain, nervous, lost, hopeful… a myriad of emotions that only a man in a dilemma of the heart can experience.

Jim is drifting into a nap when his mind fuzzily says, You accepted him, Jim. You wanted Spock close and now…

He falls asleep thinking of a memory.

~~~
before…

Jim is listening to Scotty’s tale of winged monkeys, Klingons in kilts, and an angry Norse God when he catches sight of a familiar stiff set of shoulders in science blue. “Spock!”

There are some privileges to being a Captain—and one of them is that a properly schooled Vulcan can’t ignore a call from a commanding officer situated in the middle of a gaggle of people, no matter how antisocial that Vulcan is feeling at the moment.

“Captain.” Spock acknowledges the presence of the others as well, naming them by rank and title.

Jim sees a young lieutenant or two look down at their drinks rather than return the cool stare of the First Officer. He leans back and waves languidly at the seat opposite him. “Join us, Mr. Spock.”

Spock subtly shifts his stance in a way that clearly reads to Jim I am uncomfortable, and Jim widens his smile.

“Sit,” he says, trying to convey trust me in that one order.

Whether Spock understands him or not, the Vulcan takes a seat.

Scotty says, “Well, where was I? Spock, have I ever told ye the story of—no? ‘Tis a travesty then! I’ll start over…”

Jim and the Chief Engineer are fairly successful at drawing Spock into the conversation, and slowly but surely others relax, some almost forgetting their unease. Spock, to the Vulcan’s credit, does not show any sign of exasperation or disinterest in their inane chatter. He is mostly silent, speaking only when spoken to, but otherwise Jim counts this moment as a success.

Then Bones arrives, temper in full swing.

It is rather amusing to watch ensigns scurry to a corner or place a table between them and the dark cloud of crackling blue eyes and furious man. Jim is already braced for an onslaught when Doctor McCoy heads directly for his table.

Bones has barely gritted out “Jim…” before Spock smoothly addresses the irritable McCoy with “Doctor, will you not join us?” The lift of the Vulcan’s brow is a clear challenge.

The CMO stills, stares at Spock for a moment, then jerks out a chair and plops down next to Spock.

Jim looks between the two officers.

So. Challenge accepted.

He covers the tiny giggle in his throat by taking a sip from his glass of water.

Spock tilts his head in Scotty’s direction and remarks, “I believe, Mr. Scott, that you were speaking of a cry of war given by a two-headed Andorian in what the Romans of ancient Earth would have termed a ‘toga.'”

“Aye, so I was!” beams the engineer. He regales the “laddies” to his left, distracting the people seated at the table who aren’t numbered among Kirk, Spock, or McCoy. Jim is grateful that this ship inherited such a smart man. He pretends to listen while focusing the main portion of his attention on a potential explosion.

McCoy twitches, something clearly still riding him, and it is not long before the man leans forward to hiss at Kirk, “You and me, we gotta talk.”

Jim glances around him in a gesture of significance before his eyes lock with the doctor’s. “While I won’t dismiss what you have to say, Doctor McCoy, I hope you understand that where you choose your battleground is as important as when.”

Bones watches him for a moment; when the man’s face finally relaxes, Jim congratulates himself on averting a disaster.

“Alright, Jim,” Bones concedes. “Now’s not the time or the place. I get it. But, Captain, we do need to talk.”

He nods in response to the serious undertone of Bones’ voice. “You have my word that we will.”

The other man leans back, like Jim, a signal that whatever knot of anger the doctor carries is carefully stowed away. Then, surprising Jim, Bones cuts his eyes at Spock and says, “It’s about him anyway.”

Spock, who has been a silent partner in this verbal game, blinks. “I do not recall an incident which would incite your wrath, Doctor McCoy.”

Bones laughs, and Jim thinks victory.

“Just like a Vulcan to deny being annoying as heck,” replies Bones to both Spock and Jim. “It’s not something you did, Spock—not this time anyway—”

Jim covers his smile with his hand.

“—it’s our ever-thoughtful Starfleet that’s making me pissin’ mad.”

Spock mouths the phrase pissin’ mad with curiosity while Jim mutters when do they not piss us off, Bones?

McCoy ignores them. His index finger stabs the table top as he talks. “I gotta Vulcan on board and no medical officer who knows a damn thing about ’em, myself included. I can tell ya his organs are mixed up—”

“Doctor, that is illogical. The placement of my internal organs is standard—”

“—but that’s about it! God forbid I have to crack him open and try to fix something!”

Only a Vulcan, whose nerves are made of steel, could sit beside Doctor McCoy while the man blithely talks about a gory surgery of his person and not feel the need to run away to hide.

Jim sees where Bones is headed and reaches out to squeeze the man’s arm. “I hear you, Bones. We’ll talk about it. Later.”

Leonard purses his lips, catches sight of the other staring ensigns along the table and Scotty drinking from a mug (definitely not regulation issue, but Jim doesn’t say so) with a look of interest on his face. Bones must decide that he is tired of being the spectacle at the show, so he snorts and pushes away from the table.

“I’ll be in Sickbay,” he tosses out to the group, “prepping for the ship-wide physical exams scheduled for next week.” Most ensigns are wise enough to hunker down in their seats at McCoy’s emphasis, but one grins dumbly. The doctor pins him with narrow eyes. “And you’ll be my first patient.”

Ensign Numero Uno quits smiling.

Jim waits until Bones has left Rec Room II before sighing heavily.

“Captain?” Spock calls his name.

“I’m fine,” he tells the attentive Vulcan dismissively. “Bones is a piece of work—and probably the best Chief Medical Officer this ship has ever had.”

“Indeed.” Just the way Spock says that tells Jim that the Vulcan will have to think on his statement for some minutes before drawing a conclusion.

Kirk rubs the back of his neck. His eyes skip around the room, seeking distraction, before they land on something tucked away in the corner. “Spock,” he says slowly as he rises to his feet, “do you play chess?”

The Vulcan answers quite simply, “Affirmative.”

Jim fairly dances past Spock—well, he thinks about gleefully dancing, but mostly he tries to stride like an important captain—with the words, “Then let’s see if you can beat me!”

Spock is already following him, stating, “Captain, I find that I must warn you…”

Jim doesn’t win their first game of course, but he does win something more precious—a hint of warmth in Spock’s dark eyes that only needs to be nourished to grow.

Footnotes:
1. Second scene is a fictional extension of the episode Spock’s Brain.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• What We Feel (12/12) – from April 2, 2011
• What We Feel (11/12) – from April 2, 2011
• What We Feel (10/12) – from March 28, 2011
• What We Feel (9/?) – from March 26, 2011
• What We Feel (8/?) – from March 23, 2011