While everyone recovered, while the dead were being grieved, while the Enterprise was repaired at the station, Spock worked on his report. It was an official Captain's Report: he was, after all, right now, the captain. He wrote it while he sat next to Jim's bed, listening to the soft, steady thrum of his heart beat from the biobed.
The words seemed as benign and clinical as usual: Khan commandeered the Vengeance, torpedoes remotely detonated, central power failed due to combat damage.
He reached over for a glass of water.
Captain Kirk realigned the aft power housings.
Spock paused, reading over the line, then looked over at Jim. The heart sensor continued to thrum, and the noise of it drowned out even the noise of his own thoughts, racing around his mind and causing his side to ache.
He set the PADD aside, rose, and left the room.
--
His father sent him a note on the third day. I assume that you are recovering in the wake of these events, he says, and now it may be psychologically favorable for you to allow yourself time on
( ... )
Leonard's hand reached for the scanner in his pocket, pulling it out and waving it. "I don't need one," he murmured, his voice just short of threatening. "Commander, all we have between you and Scotty running things up there," Leonard pointed vaguely in the direction of the sky, "is your good health."
He dropped the scanner on top of the table next to Jim's bed, the clang it made satisfying. "So you understand when I say that when you're done here, I'm marching you down to get something to eat."
Spock watched the movement of Leonard's scanner, tensing slightly, until Leonard dropped it. The last thing he wanted was another pair of eyes watching him, critical and logical enough to say something difficult to refute.
"Marching?" he echoed, skeptical, looking out the window at the small campus below. "I do not think it is necessary for you to force me to eat just yet. Deleterious effects will not begin for another five days, at least."
"Well, as fun as I'm sure that would be to watch, your slow slide into delirium, let's just avoid that altogether by getting some soup into you." Spock wasn't entirely fooling him into believing that everything was good. None of them were good. Most of them were still just holding on, Leonard included. "To be honest," he admitted, settling into a chair opposite Spock, "I could do with a meal too."
He glanced down at Jim's body, eerily still. His voice was low as he spoke. "I wish he'd wake up."
He swallowed, his own gaze shifting to Jim, calm and healing at his own pace, as usual. "There is no need to wish," Spock said quietly, "Your serums have healed him before. The only variable is time."
Spock slumped ever so slightly in his seat. "What did you want to eat?" Now that the topic had come up, he found the discussion of food less uncomfortable than talking about Jim - still not entirely alive, no matter what the biobed or his own telepathy had told him.
He held back a snort. "Healed." There was that word again. Jim was alive, that much was true. "I guess we'll see. Still can't believe it all, what happened. What he did..."
Leonard turned his eyes toward Spock again, detecting a faint darkness under his eyes. "Spock, you did have a post-mission medical exam, didn't you?" Of course he didn't, the cagey Vulcan. So busy in here with Jim, Leonard began to wonder how much he'd missed. "What doctor saw you?"
His gaze lingered on Jim for a little while longer while he considered his answer, until finally Spock looked back at Leonard. "According to official documentation, you did."
It would be true eventually, just not at this point in time.
Leonard's hand itched. "So, shall we take care of that right now, while we're here?" Standing, Leonard moved toward Spock, tilting his head as he approached. "You know, anyone here at Medical could have taken care of you." But even as he said that, he knew deep down that Spock wouldn't have trusted anyone else but him.
That made him feel good, in a way, even if he'd been selfish and locked himself in this room with Jim. "Is there anything I should know?"
"We can." He did prefer it this way, or at least over the alternatives: some other doctor in a white suit, not looking nearly so handsome or knowing him as well.
Spock set his hat aside, right at the foot of Jim's bed. "I had bruised ribs," he said, looking up at Leonard, "though I believe they have mostly healed through my own treatment," Perhaps that would dissuade Leonard from asking about medication, should he find trace of it.
Scanner in hand, Leonard began to examine Spock. Resting one hand on Spock's shoulder, Leonard ran a hand along his back, down his spine until he reached the small of Spock's back. His scanner made a soft humming noise as it began spitting out readings, Leonard's brows furrowing. Spock had some significant injuries, evident even ten days later.
"These must have hurt," he murmured, his eyes finding Spock's as his hand slid around the front, to touch tender ribs. "Stress fractures in your hand, clavicle, and then there is your ribs. Three cracked, two outright broken." Leonard sighed, guilt rushing through him.
He should have caught this. "I could have fixed these, Commander." Maybe Spock didn't trust him like Leonard thought he had.
Even through the haze of the medication it was easy to focus on the pressure of Leonard's hand down his spine. Even the pain didn't distract him as it should have, blossoming under Leonard's touch and too close to his fast-humming heart. Sensations came and went, as they should, and not with reminders of how he had received his injuries - no recollections to the blinding rage that had drove him against Khan, none of the crippling grief before that.
"There were more important matters at hand," he said, glancing from Leonard to Jim. "Though you are welcome to fix these injuries now, if you have the time."
"The captain's been out of commission here," Leonard told him, still trying to make light of what had been the worst hours of his life. "He hasn't needed me for a few days. You, on the other hand..." Pulling his chair next to Spock, he turned on the small osteo-regenerator.
"This will work better if you take off your shirt."
He drew the zipper down his vest, slid it off his shoulders, and set it next to his hat on Jim's bed, and then pulled off the white cotton shirt underneath, folding it loosely before setting it on his vest. The bruises on his skin were smattered over the worse of his injuries, molted red and purple after these days of mostly natural healing, and stretched over his ribs, his shoulders, his back.
What would Jim think, Spock wondered, if he were to wake in the midst of this. At least until he felt the machine against his ribs and the sting of tissue knitting together brought him out of his own thoughts.
Spock's body was a roadmap of abuse, and Leonard alternated between seething that no one had treated the Vulcan, and guilt that he hadn't gone himself to check on Spock after that day. The bruises, well - wasn't much he could do for the bruises, other than offer some pain medication, and Leonard's experience with offering that to Spock in the past had proven useless.
The hum of the small device comforted Leonard, knowing at least something was being accomplished now, that Spock was allowing Leonard to treat him. "Your arm," he said, holding out his hand, setting a blood collection device on the table. "After this, some food. Okay?"
Blood analyses were routine after physicals; Spock knew this, and yet he still hesitated, just a moment, before offering his arm for Leonard.
"As you wish." The osteogen continued to cycle between easing his discomfort and triggering short bouts of pain, but Spock focused on the green filling the glass vial. It gave him time enough to think how he would explain certain anomalies in it, if Leonard bothered to ask, but the excuses came slower to his mind than he would have liked and less convincing than he needed. Possibly just the distraction of his own hunger, oft-ignored.
Maybe it was the fatigue, being here so many hours worrying about Jim, but Leonard missed all these little signs that Spock was doing his best to hide. One eye on the regenerator, the other eye on the blood filling his vial, that rich green that always intrigued him.
But now that they were both here, quiet and still, Leonard could see the small movements that would have blew by him a year ago. Spock was almost twitching - for a Vulcan, at least. Securing the blood, he flipped off the device and set it on the table. The blood vial was tagged and sent off with a nurse to the lab. "Ready for some food? If cafeteria food's alright with you, I'll treat."
The words seemed as benign and clinical as usual: Khan commandeered the Vengeance, torpedoes remotely detonated, central power failed due to combat damage.
He reached over for a glass of water.
Captain Kirk realigned the aft power housings.
Spock paused, reading over the line, then looked over at Jim. The heart sensor continued to thrum, and the noise of it drowned out even the noise of his own thoughts, racing around his mind and causing his side to ache.
He set the PADD aside, rose, and left the room.
--
His father sent him a note on the third day. I assume that you are recovering in the wake of these events, he says, and now it may be psychologically favorable for you to allow yourself time on ( ... )
Reply
He dropped the scanner on top of the table next to Jim's bed, the clang it made satisfying. "So you understand when I say that when you're done here, I'm marching you down to get something to eat."
Reply
"Marching?" he echoed, skeptical, looking out the window at the small campus below. "I do not think it is necessary for you to force me to eat just yet. Deleterious effects will not begin for another five days, at least."
Reply
He glanced down at Jim's body, eerily still. His voice was low as he spoke. "I wish he'd wake up."
Reply
Spock slumped ever so slightly in his seat. "What did you want to eat?" Now that the topic had come up, he found the discussion of food less uncomfortable than talking about Jim - still not entirely alive, no matter what the biobed or his own telepathy had told him.
Reply
Leonard turned his eyes toward Spock again, detecting a faint darkness under his eyes. "Spock, you did have a post-mission medical exam, didn't you?" Of course he didn't, the cagey Vulcan. So busy in here with Jim, Leonard began to wonder how much he'd missed. "What doctor saw you?"
Reply
It would be true eventually, just not at this point in time.
Reply
Leonard's hand itched. "So, shall we take care of that right now, while we're here?" Standing, Leonard moved toward Spock, tilting his head as he approached. "You know, anyone here at Medical could have taken care of you." But even as he said that, he knew deep down that Spock wouldn't have trusted anyone else but him.
That made him feel good, in a way, even if he'd been selfish and locked himself in this room with Jim. "Is there anything I should know?"
Reply
Spock set his hat aside, right at the foot of Jim's bed. "I had bruised ribs," he said, looking up at Leonard, "though I believe they have mostly healed through my own treatment," Perhaps that would dissuade Leonard from asking about medication, should he find trace of it.
Reply
"These must have hurt," he murmured, his eyes finding Spock's as his hand slid around the front, to touch tender ribs. "Stress fractures in your hand, clavicle, and then there is your ribs. Three cracked, two outright broken." Leonard sighed, guilt rushing through him.
He should have caught this. "I could have fixed these, Commander." Maybe Spock didn't trust him like Leonard thought he had.
Reply
"There were more important matters at hand," he said, glancing from Leonard to Jim. "Though you are welcome to fix these injuries now, if you have the time."
Reply
"This will work better if you take off your shirt."
Reply
What would Jim think, Spock wondered, if he were to wake in the midst of this. At least until he felt the machine against his ribs and the sting of tissue knitting together brought him out of his own thoughts.
Reply
The hum of the small device comforted Leonard, knowing at least something was being accomplished now, that Spock was allowing Leonard to treat him. "Your arm," he said, holding out his hand, setting a blood collection device on the table. "After this, some food. Okay?"
Reply
"As you wish." The osteogen continued to cycle between easing his discomfort and triggering short bouts of pain, but Spock focused on the green filling the glass vial. It gave him time enough to think how he would explain certain anomalies in it, if Leonard bothered to ask, but the excuses came slower to his mind than he would have liked and less convincing than he needed. Possibly just the distraction of his own hunger, oft-ignored.
Reply
But now that they were both here, quiet and still, Leonard could see the small movements that would have blew by him a year ago. Spock was almost twitching - for a Vulcan, at least. Securing the blood, he flipped off the device and set it on the table. The blood vial was tagged and sent off with a nurse to the lab. "Ready for some food? If cafeteria food's alright with you, I'll treat."
Reply
Leave a comment