0Title: Masters of Fate (4/4)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Summary: Long ago, Kirk and McCoy were given a chance to glimpse the red string of fate connecting them. Lately, they have been wondering if what they saw might not be the full picture.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3
Jim Kirk sets aside his data padd with an aggrieved air. “Fifth report this week. If I had known the medical staff would be this adverse…” The man stops himself there, sighing softly.
“Dr. Kelarr’s management style is not wholly incongruent to Dr. McCoy’s,” his First Officer says, “but some adjustments are to be expected.”
Kirk agrees, and yet he worries. “Thankfully there is no active dissent, but the—”
“Dissatisfaction.”
“—general dissatisfaction with Dr. Kelarr, however politely our people are expressing it,” he points out, “impacts morale all the same.” Drumming his fingers against his chair arms, he states the obvious mainly to hear the words given a gravity that comes from being spoken out loud. “We need Bones back.”
“Dr. McCoy’s latest report from Rigel IV indicates the settlements have entered their second wave of the virus. The Doctor still maintains that a successful vaccination is imminent despite the recent mutation.” Spock pauses. “I am not inclined to disagree. He is Rigel IV’s best chance of survival.”
Jim sinks slightly into his chair. “I know, Spock. It was a selfish thought.”
“You are not faulted for the sentiment, Jim. It is understandable.”
Bones would awkwardly bluster around his embarrassment if he ever learns that more than just a handful of colleagues missed their good old country doctor.
But McCoy is doing what he does best, healing the sick and wounded; beating back death to prolong life where he can.
In the doctor’s personal note, Jim had read between the lines of the exposition that, as stressed as Leonard felt, he was confident in the overall execution of the treatment plan and how it minimized chronic health issues from the latest viral strain.
No doubt is in Kirk’s mind that another commendation will be in McCoy’s future. Rigellans are recovering instead of dying, and that is a monumental achievement.
Leonard had also mentioned in his note that the Mercurio kept close tabs on the work of the Enterprise medical officers. Jim smiles a little as he recalls the doctor’s miffed tone when speaking of the careful oversight, undoubtedly thinking that having a babysitter was somehow Jim’s fault. But Jim doesn’t regret that particular decision one bit, because at least it grants him some peace of mind to know that his people have their own support system on Rigel.
So, Bones can fuss all he likes so long as he returns in high spirits and in good health.
Spock interrupts Kirk’s thoughts. “Captain.”
“Hm?”
“The Doctor would be pleased to know his return is highly anticipated.”
Jim nods, angling his chair in order to peer out the nearest viewport of his Ready Room, reminding himself of the many light years between the Vega and Rigel systems. “He would call me maudlin and tell me to focus on the job. But, yes, secretly he would appreciate it.” He pauses, considering. “Do you think he misses us?”
“I cannot know what Dr. McCoy thinks.” Spock seems to study his captain’s profile. “But I was given to believe you know his mind the best.”
“He’d miss the Enterprise.”
“Jim.”
Ah, Spock is perceptive enough to recognize the root of the comment, the captain realizes. “You caught me. I was wondering if Bones would miss me.”
“I should hope he does.”
Jim turns back toward the Vulcan. “Hope, Spock?”
Spock’s consideration now is somewhat dry. “Based on the recounting of your first meeting with Dr. McCoy, naturally there is the possibility of some truth to the proclamations shared with you, given the one who delivered them did not benefit from making it known.”
Jim guesses, “You think that being told we were fated to be in each other’s lives is the reason we are so close.”
“Quite the contrary, Captain, in keeping with your human idiosyncrasies, I assumed you both ignored it. A friendship would be based on your own motive.”
Jim smiles. “I have a feeling I should finish that story, Mr. Spock.” He hums quietly. “You’re right, of course. We consider this… string of fate to be a strange, almost ridiculous concept. But it’s not unheard-of among Earthers—at least, not in the Earth of the past.”
“I have studied Earth history extensively, Jim, and I do not know of any such concept.”
Jim isn’t able to contain a bark of laughter. “Better to call it a myth, Spock, not some historical account. A folktale. A… romantic notion. Like the idea of a soulmate.”
Spock raises an eyebrow.
Jim settles in, voice mild. “After Novis, McCoy and I didn’t cross paths again for years. But there could be some truth, as you said, to our being destined. I was on the other end of the quadrant, far away from where McCoy was, but I never forgot him. How does one forget a unique man like Leonard McCoy?”
With the Novis incident behind him and mostly compartmentalized in Kirk’s mind under a strong cautionary label of encounters never to repeat, Kirk meets McCoy again when Kirk’s uniform bears commander’s stripes and he is a well-known name discussed in serious conversations between the highest-ranking officers of Starfleet. A fast-tracker, mayhap the fastest in all of the institution’s history, an admiral or two praises of the youngest Kirk. Jim is nearing the end of his twenties, fresh into a promotion to the first officer of a Farragut-class starship.
Jim wants more.
Someday soon, he believes, he will have a ship to call his own. It will be operated by the most talented officers of their era. He needs no thoughts of fate to tell him where he should be because his ambition already drives him there.
A ship’s captaincy is not just a rung in the ladder of Jim Kirk’s career; it has always been the best destiny Kirk could want for himself, starting in a childhood where he dreamed of sailing the stars while under a night sky of an empty pasture on a neighboring farmstead.
Today, he is letting his dream idle briefly while he takes a much-desired shore leave, not yet space-weary but appreciative of a change of pursuits. Starbase One is the oldest and most familiar station to Jim. His legs carry him unerringly to his favorite portside lounge.
There, as he makes his way to the bar, he instantly recognizes the pinched expression of a man tucked at a corner table. Jim changes course.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he opens with, inviting himself to sit at the table.
The man swirls green-tinged liquid in an opaque glass. “Terrible pickup line—and zero interest from this side whether or not your next one improves. Scram.”
Jim isn’t offended. “Sawbones.”
The man starts, lifting his gaze to meet Jim’s amused one.
With a not-quite smile, Jim says, “If I was offering that kind of interest, believe me, you’d know.”
“It’s you.”
“McCoy,” Jim tests the name out. “Leonard McCoy.”
“Dr. McCoy,” Leonard reminds him. Eyeing Jim, he adds, “It’d be a waste if you’re still a lieutenant.”
That offhand remark pleases Jim. “A commander now.”
McCoy harrumphs and knocks back the rest of his drink.
“Bad day?” Jim taps on the table’s built-in display. “Another of what you’re having?”
“It tasted foul. I’ll try the whiskey special. And since you asked, more like a bad year.”
“The brandy’s better here.” At McCoy’s nod, Jim places their order. Then he leans back in his seat, stretching out his legs to cross them at the ankles.
The other man raises his eyebrows.
Jim nonchalantly locks his hands over his stomach. “You didn’t return my messages.”
“Is that why you came over here, Commander, to call me out on a fault? Get in line.”
“I prefer Jim.” He glances around. “There’s no line here, Doc.”
McCoy mutters something about hiding from it.
Kirk’s memory of that time past has been acutely jogged. He remembers how he felt leaving Novis and saying farewell to McCoy. “So no regrets, is that it? I thought we were on track to becoming friends.”
“Life,” the doctor drawls, “goes on.” But he sighs, then. “I’m sorry. I was meaning to reply and let the time get away from me.”
“Forgiven,” Jim says softly. “I was busy too. Good intentions on both sides but… life, like you said.” A waiter brings their drinks as if on cue, and together they silently toast to the years behind them.
McCoy puts his drink down. “I did hear something about you recently. The illustrious James Tiberius Kirk—poster child of Starfleet!”
Jim groans.
The dark-haired man leans in, teasing, “Guess I’m tied up with a celebrity!”
Sobering, Jim leans in to match his posture, curious. “You believed that business about being fate-bound?” He recalls with clarity the illusion of a red string stretched between them.
McCoy flushes, looks away quickly. “I hadn’t thought about that until just now, actually.”
Kirk’s nod is sharp. “Us meeting again could be… something.”
With a huff, McCoy pulls his glass closer to him. “I don’t believe in fate. The future is what we make of it. If my choices are really not mine, then what’s the point in having a choice?”
“I tend to agree.” But Jim had done some research after Novis, while the impressions left from the encounter were still fresh on his mind. “Yet our humanity teaches us that we function better with strong personal connections. Some people want to believe there’s another half to their soul out there.”
“People mostly just want someone to understand them and love them unconditionally. But I don’t think that cave god was promoting soulmates to us, Jim.”
“You mean we didn’t meet the god of marriage? Damn.” He grins. When his companion rolls his eyes, Jim knows he has successfully broken the ice. “I’m not the marrying type anyway.”
A hint of unhappiness flashes through McCoy’s blue gaze. “Marriage isn’t for everyone.”
Ah, a sensitive subject Jim can sympathize with. He raises his glass. “We’re older, wiser, and this isn’t a blistering desert. We should try again.”
“Try what?”
“Being friends.”
McCoy stares at him for a long minute. “You’re going to stay like that until I agree, aren’t you?”
“Persistence is one of my better qualities,” Jim informs him.
Clinking his glass against Kirk’s, McCoy shakes his head slightly. “I think I’ll know soon enough if I made a mistake.”
Jim’s gut rarely steers him wrong. He had liked the man that he glimpsed beneath the prickly exterior years ago and that same kind of person is still there. McCoy looks more worn around the edges, and those bags under his eyes likely indicate trouble is plaguing the man at the moment, but Jim is not intending to add to his worries.
Dr. Leonard Horatio McCoy is already a legend in certain circles. Jim has paid attention to intelligence in key areas of Starfleet, partly to keep himself paced with peers and to know who constitutes the best of the best in the organization.
McCoy has the potential to be something a little different than a decorated officer to Jim Kirk. An ancient being made certain Jim knew it, that Leonard did too.
Is this knowledge a boon? Is it a portent?
“Jim.”
Jim blinks.
“You gonna drink that?” Leonard asks him.
Jim sips from his glass. “Sorry. I was only wondering where we go from here.”
McCoy swipes a credit chip over the table’s display and stands up, startling Jim. But then his mouth flicks up at the corners. “To dinner.” A physician’s critical eye runs over Kirk. “You look kind of peaky from just a thimble full of alcohol. Let’s get some solid food in you.”
“Mister,” Jim argues, “I have a solid constitution. You look like you haven’t slept in days.” He stands too and pauses by his chair. “Thimble full? Where’d you hear that?”
McCoy snorts. “So, you’re not a Southern fellow.”
“Iowa is—” he starts heatedly, before thinking better of it. “—near the South.”
“Suppose you haven’t picked cotton a day in your life.”
“I doubt you have either,” Jim shoots back, “because no one farms that way anymore.” His chest expands with pride. “But I am the fastest corn-shucker in my county!”
Their combined laughter rings out into the thoroughfare as they exit the lounge.
“Fascinating,” declares the Vulcan.
“I’m not certain it warrants that strong of a word, Spock.” Jim offers a fleeting smile to his first officer. “The truth of the matter is, Bones and I only ever joke these days about our string of fate. We haven’t seen it since that encounter on Novis. Who’s to say it still exists?”
“I would propose, Captain, that it does not need to exist to be real.”
“Quite the paradox, but I take your meaning. The friendship I have with Bones does feel like… one of a kind.” A realization strikes Jim in that moment, looking at Spock, who offers no outwardly emotional reaction to the comment. “As luck would have it, there can be many ‘one of a kind’ friendships.”
“Indeed.”
Sometimes it’s too easy to read that logical Vulcan mind, thinks Jim. “Well then, Mr. Spock, what consideration have you given to the kind of friendship between you and our resident doctor?”
Spock blinks at him. “At this moment, the presiding head physician of the Enterprise is Dr. Kelarr.”
Jim leaves his chair and claps a hand on the Vulcan’s shoulder as he passes him by. “If you play this obtuse with Bones, he really won’t figure out that you can be friends.”
“Duly noted.”
A month later, a rendezvous point has been set with the Mercurio, and this puts Captain Kirk in a fine mood.
Jim is not the only one feeling cheerful ahead of the reunion with their Chief Medical Officer and his team. Dr. Kelarr himself had recognized he was not quite a fit among the crew and had contacted the Mercurio ahead of schedule, claiming he had had his fill of enjoying their new lab equipment and far less enjoyment managing a medical bay twice the size of what he’s used to. The time has come, Kelarr informed both ship captains, to return all commissioned officers to their rightful place.
With the influx of patients down to a trickle and the treatment regime deemed effective, the Rigel government is supportive of the request for a transition. Taking his cue from Kelarr, Jim contacts Starfleet headquarters to push along the gathering of replacement medical staff to the planet to relieve those who had been there for so long. Afterward, he spends an hour in his office catching up on paperwork and listening again to Leonard’s latest lengthy message.
The gist of the report concerns the effort that McCoy’s staff had put into ‘straightening out’ everything from how patients are received to how the supplies are arranged and stored. This is always McCoy’s way of issuing a warning that if someone comes behind him and botches the progress made with his patients, there will be hell to pay.
Jim has no desire to see McCoy riled up over medical incompetence, nor to send one of his best officers away again, so he forwards a more subtly worded missive to the dispatched commanding officer, currently en route to Rigel from Earth, to keep changes to a minimum.
Bones is coming home, and Jim doesn’t have to fight anyone to make it happen.
This, he thinks, might be what having a fated connection is all about. His life feels infinitely brighter with McCoy in it. Perhaps that is the natural draw—that bright red string—which brings them back together after a period of separation.
Whatever the reason is, to see Leonard again is Jim’s sincerest wish.
Someone has blabbed about the feelings Jim thought he kept well enough to himself.
“I heard you missed me,” Leonard McCoy says as he steps off the transporter pad with a wide smile and a softening at corners of his blue eyes.
Jim needs to have a talking to somebody. But, seeing Bones’ pleased expression, Jim is beyond the point of denying it. He closes the distance to his friend and pulls Leonard into a tight hug. The doctor leans into the embrace for a short moment, then eases back. He is as aware as Jim is that they are under the scrutiny of the others in the room.
“You’re back.” Jim assesses his CMO’s appearance. “You look all right.” One of those matters more than the other, but he doesn’t know which. He settles on, “Thank you.”
“Old worry-wart,” McCoy huffs with a roll of his eyes. “As if I’ve got somewhere better to be.”
“Not for a while, I hope.” Jim places a hand on the man’s back, guiding him toward the exit. “I should warn you—there’s a celebration tonight to honor your team’s success on Rigel IV.”
“I suppose you had nothing to do with the party.”
Jim chuckles. “I gave my approval, but I didn’t dare do much else. I’m not allowed to volunteer for planning committees anymore, remember?”
Leonard nods knowingly, then hums under his breath. When he falls quiet, the silence carries them to the turbolift at the end of the corridor. Jim knows Leonard will want to go to Sickbay first to ascertain the state of it. He tells the ship’s computer where to take them.
“Jim.” Leonard turns to face him, his voice a soft drawl. “Maybe you’re the one who isn’t all right. I heard about what happened with the Vegans.”
Jim offers up a thin smile. While he isn’t keen on talking about his feelings on the matter yet—he hasn’t fully sorted them out—it is his friend’s look of concern that has him willing to be honest. “It stings a little, but I don’t think all hope is lost.”
“Pride’s no small matter, Jim.”
“Not for either side,” he confirms. “But they aren’t ready for us.” And the Federation doesn’t seem ready for them. He lets the sentiment remain unspoken. Leonard will know what he isn’t saying.
“Their loss.” The doctor rocks back on his heels, locking his hands behind his back. Then he breaks into a slightly crooked grin. “Look at the bright side, Jim. That’s an ordeal for a captain in the next century. We should toast to having one less problem in ours.” He pauses in rocking, to pin a different look on Jim. “You didn’t drink up all my good liquor, did you?”
Kirk throws an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “I swear I stayed out of your quarters. Did the Rigellans supply you with anything decent?”
“One of the local researchers claimed he could whip up a cocktail that would make our eyeballs sing, but seeing as how alcohol intake was restricted to maintain the efficacy of the viral treatments, it seemed kind of mean to partake of their hospitality without them joining.”
“You’re too good, Bones.” He pushes the man out of the lift and towards the end of the hall. “Tell you what… After you clean up, we can head down to the station. I found a place that makes mint juleps.”
“Some replicated swill, or real?”
Jim mock-gasps. “One hundred percent authentic, mister!” He personally doesn’t care for the drink, but he knows what it should taste like and had tried it out on Leonard’s behalf.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” McCoy harrumphs.
Just as they enter McCoy’s cabin, Kirk’s personal communicator gives an imperious double-beep. He pulls the device off his belt to see the message. “We might have company,” he says, but when he looks up, Leonard is already behind the partition that separates the bedroom and bathroom from the main cabin.
Jim tucks the device away. Let it be a surprise then!
The mint julep was decent, according to McCoy. Checking the time, Jim diverts them from their heading to a public transporter pad toward the entrance of the starboard-side docks, much to his companion’s bemusement. But Leonard is relaxed enough to go along without complaint. They have several hours at their disposal to wander the starbase.
“Are we taking a shuttle ride?” McCoy questions.
“No.” Jim is experienced at keeping the flutter of nerves in his stomach out of his voice.
McCoy hums, no doubt knowing Jim too well.
Jim hurries them along to the arrival gate. It isn’t until a tall familiar figure stands out among a dispersing crowd that Leonard turns to Kirk with a purse to his mouth.
Jim supplies the answer to the unspoken question, “He asked to join us,” and tries out an unsure but game smile.
Leonard snorts, turning away from Jim to hail Spock. Then, surprising Jim, he strides forward to meet the Vulcan on the gangplank. There’s a strange glint in McCoy’s eyes.
“I have rules.” Leonard’s tone of voice dares Spock (and possibly Kirk, who watches this confrontation from the side) to challenge him on that. “You and Jim can decide on the entertainment but I pick the dining house. I’ve missed out a good meal for a while since the Rigellans like tasteless food even more than you do.”
“Acceptable,” returns Spock, not missing a beat. He presents a data padd that hitherto had been hidden behind his back. “I took the liberty of creating an itinerary of local places of interest.”
This padd Spock hands to Kirk when Spock and McCoy come up to him.
McCoy bounces once on the balls of his feet. “Acceptable,” he echoes Spock’s tone, somewhat startling Kirk by the heatless nature of it. “Jim likes to make grand itineraries too but not to memorize them, which means he forgets what he had in mind half the time.”
“Blasphemy! I don’t forget!” blusters Jim, aghast. “I just—I get—”
“—sidetracked,” finishes Leonard, “yeah, we know. I’m putting my faith in Spock’s list, since he went to the trouble of doing the research and all.”
Jim is amenable to that, of course, his injured pride aside. Mostly, to be honest, he is just happy the risk of irritating McCoy with Spock’s unexpected presence seems to have been mitigated, even if it is by Spock being dependable where Jim isn’t, such as being meticulous with an event schedule.
Jim is still certain he can work in an unplanned activity or two if he spies something fun missing from the list.
Leonard strides away from the passenger arrival gate, clearly expecting Jim and Spock to follow him. It appears their group outing has begun.
Later, coming upon their first destination—a research center for aquatic life from across the Alpha quadrant and an excellent choice of passing time in Jim’s opinion—Leonard’s elbow pokes the captain in the side.
“This might not be so bad.” The doctor nods toward their Vulcan companion by the visitation console, checking the three of them in for a guided tour. “He looks as excited as when we stop by an uncharted planet.”
Jim says, perplexed, “Spock looks like he always does.”
McCoy rolls his eyes. “I must be the only one learned in Vulcan facial ticks, then.”
Jim barks out a laugh. “I guess so!” He sobers, but his eyes still twinkle. “Congratulations, Bones.”
Leonard squints at him, as if daring him to go on.
But Jim doesn’t need to.
It’s clear that Leonard gave some thought to Spock’s overture while he was away from the Enterprise.
And Jim couldn’t be more pleased about it.
Spock returns to them. “The guide will be available momentarily.”
“What exhibits are you looking forward to seeing the most?” Leonard asks him.
“I am told there are several highly communicative aquatic species from the Denkir star system.”
Jim frowns, picturing something like a school of fish from Earth’s oceans. “Don’t you mean ‘communal’?”
“Negative, Captain. I may be able to speak with them.”
Leonard’s eyes grow large. “Are visitors allowed to do that?”
Spock cocks his head. “Unknown.”
“Oh lord. Jim,” Leonard hisses as Spock turns to greet the approaching aquarium staff, “keep an eye on him.”
“Why me?”
“He’s your first officer!”
They swallow the rest of their argument as Spock calls to them, “We should proceed inside.”
The pinch to Kirk’s arm is McCoy’s unspoken reminder that all responsibility falls to the highest-ranking officer, on or off the ship. Jim shakes it off, convinced that the man is worried over nothing.
The dining house, chosen by McCoy was promised, is a welcome retreat after an adventurous few hours keeping tabs on an overly curious Vulcan who seems to have forgotten there are rules to be followed in public.
Leonard had found their predicament—being banned from the aquarium for life—quite funny, and Jim has yet to discern why. He is never sharing this story with anyone else, lest they think Spock is a complete rogue and Jim as the captain who encourages him. Jim isn’t that shameless.
But it might McCoy who is feeling shameless, after a hearty meal and a day of entertainment at his friend’s expense. He asks quite the unexpected question during a lull in conversation while Jim’s dessert is on the way to the table: “Did you tell Spock about us?”
Jim understands immediately. “He knows.”
McCoy’s gaze flicks toward the Vulcan. “Is it weird to you?”
“I am of a race that invests in deep spiritual connections, Doctor. I would consider a strong bond to be an asset, not an aberration.” Spock sounds confident in his answer.
McCoy looks thoughtful. “All right. Then do you think a string of fate, if there were such a thing, could be flexible?” He catches Jim’s eye, smiling slightly. “Say, as a three-way instead of two?”
Warmth spreads through Jim. His soft-hearted Bones.
Spock inclines his head ever so slightly. “As you humans are fond of saying, anything is possible.”
Leonard cackles. “Jim, did you hear that? Spock just admitted that we’re important to him!”
The Vulcan’s eyebrows aim for his hairline. “That is not what I—”
Jim interrupts, resolute, “I’m in.”
McCoy’s cackling quickly turns to choking. “In? In what?”
“What’s there to lose?” reasons Jim.
If a man can handle having two best friends, a man can certainly have two Red Strings of Fate. The better to navigate the unknowns of life with! And anyway, Kirk is certain now that the burden of it—which since befriending McCoy has never felt like a burden at all—is distributed equally among them.
“Oh no. Spock—he’s got that look, Spock!”
Jim notices Bones staring intently at Spock and vice versa, engaging in some silent mutual agreement across the table that Jim is indeed taking them down the path of an uncertain future.
But like always, his Bones and his Spock are willing to follow his lead. And for that, Jim is very grateful.
Getting up to circle the table to stand between them, he lays one hand upon each set of shoulders and says, “There’s an old god we could ask if anyone here needs proof.”
“Skip the proof, Jim. None of us has the time to fight a temperamental sandstorm.”
Spock lends his voice to McCoy’s. “Also recall that Novis is under General Order 7. It would be highly problematic to violate such a directive.” The Vulcan adds after a slight pause, “Prospectively, faith would be a more-than-adequate substitute.”
A pleased Kirk pats his companions’ shoulders, saying in his best captain’s voice, “As I thought, gentlemen. At ease.” He then resumes his seat and waits to dig into his dessert, ignoring the considering stares directed his way.
They ought to know by now that a leap of faith is a James Tiberius Kirk specialty. This one-of-a-kind bond between him, Spock, and McCoy is undoubtedly going to work out.
The End
Bonus Scene
Leonard makes it a point to call Spock to his quarters as he would with Jim when there is something important and private to say. After all, Spock has earned it.
To that effect, he tells his guest, “I wanted to thank you for your updates on Jim.”
While with the Rigellans, Leonard couldn’t shake the feeling that in his missives Jim was deliberately glossing over the tense situation unfolding was on Vegas XI. Spock, on the other hand, supplied Leonard enough details in his status reports that Leonard could extrapolate just how poorly Jim felt about being stuck on the sidelines while the treaty of the century fell through (though from no fault of Jim’s). The Federation only wanted Starfleet to police the Vegans’ aggression, which was a lost opportunity to assist the diplomats at the table in salvaging several years’ worth of hard work. Jim never likes to see a losing game when it seems like there is still some possibility of turning it around.
“Thanks are unnecessary, Doctor. It was within my purview to keep you informed.”
Leonard doesn’t take offense to that response as he might once have. Somewhere along the way he learned to read between the lines with Spock. He wouldn’t have ever guessed it would be a necessary skill for communicating with Vulcans, who by all rights are thought to be as straightforward in speech as they are logical in their thinking; but with Spock at least Leonard is now cognizant that what Spock doesn’t verbalize is often as important as what is said.
So, he knows the lack of a simple ‘You’re welcome’ is not an insult. Spock means to express that his purview goes beyond their captain. At some point, addressing Leonard’s concerns has become important to Spock, and that’s why he wanted Leonard to know how Jim was faring in the doctor’s absence.
The realization is humbling.
Leaning back into the cushions of his cabin’s short couch, he reiterates, “Well, your effort was appreciated.”
Spock doesn’t take this as a sign of dismissal, which is also an improvement between them, standing perfectly still and watching McCoy.
“If your schedule allows it,” Leonard goes on, “I wouldn’t mind some company before my shift starts.”
Spock inclines his head.
Leonard motions to the empty chair across from him which Jim prefers when he visits.
As Spock seats himself, Leonard inquires, “Are you familiar with Earth literature?”
“I spent much of my youth parsing a library of your world’s most famous works.”
Leonard grins. “Did you know Jim has an obsession with cheap romance novels? He swears they qualify as classical literature!”
Spock lifts an eyebrow.
The doctor settles in fully, gleeful at the prospect of sharing a certain anecdote that will, at minimum, turn Jim three shades of red when Spock asks him about it. “Well then, here’s a funny story about that…”
—
A/N: This final chapter was in draft for too long, so thank you for your patience. And long live our wonderful Triumvirate! A Red String of Fate will span universes for them. :)
Related Posts:
- Masters of Fate (3/4) – from September 7, 2021
- Masters of Fate (2/4) – from July 15, 2021
- Masters of Fate (1/4) – from May 5, 2021
