That's Why You Close Your Eyes: Chapter Nine
Title: That's Why You Close Your Eyes
Author: Lilbatfacedgirl
Beta: juliench1
Rating: NC-17 for this chapter
Pairing: Spock/Kirk/McCoy
Warnings: Language, angst, gratuitious sex acts between two human males and a Vulcan.
A/N: Second to last chapter (pause while author does happy dance!)
Summary: Jim and Bones 2gether 4ever, til Spock gets in the way
Chapter Nine:
His hands slipped, struggling for purchase on the slippery material, and why the hell did the damn hobgoblin have such an affinity for silk sheets anyway. There was no resistance, no damn friction to work with and he was slipping and sliding back into Jim, pressing into his body and falling into his mind. Hands and arms and lips were all over him, seeking and questing as fiery tongues of pleasure lapped up and down the open length of the bond. He could feel everything, everything; the slide of silk beneath Jim’s back, the painfully delicious stretch of Jim’s body around him. He felt the hot pant of Spock’s breath against his nape, each piercing thrust that the Vulcan drove into him, pressing him deeper and further into Jim beneath him, and an errant sliver of practicality managed to puncture his electrically lust-fueled mind. Spock clearly had this. Why not just enjoy the damn ride?
A sense of triumph flickered across the bond and a rich, amused voice filled his mind. “Indeed, Leonard. I do, in fact ‘have this’, as you say, and would be most gratified if you would enjoy it.”
Suddenly he was empty. Spock was gone, but no, hot hands were pulling him up to kneel awkwardly between Jim’s thighs. Beneath them, Jim’s eyes flew open and he pushed up on his elbows, his face taking on an expression of gleeful intrigue as he glanced at the Vulcan behind Len’s shoulder. A thrill of anticipation shot across the bond as Spock leaned over Jim’s prone form, flipping open the cap of a bottle of aromatic oil and pouring it liberally across the rose gold planes of Jim’s skin. Tossing the capped bottle aside, Spock descended with his hands, rubbing and spreading and drenching Jim everywhere in the heady liquid as Len stared in rapt attention. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the enticing picture before him as Jim collapsed back against the sheets, a wicked smile decorating his lips. The smile made Len hungry, but before he could move, strong, hot, dripping hands were moving across him, spreading the fragrant liquid, painting his throat, his chest, his stomach, the intimate crevices of his groin.
He let himself fall back against Spock’s chest, let warm hands coat him, his curiosity at the forefront because whatever crazy stunt the crazy Vulcan had in mind, he wasn’t giving it away over the bond. Jim stared up at them, and Len could feel his arousal at the sight of Spock’s hands all over his doctor, but he barely had time to enjoy the appreciation before Spock was lowering him back down.
He laid them flush together, inch by inch of skin pressing with nothing but a thin layer of oil between them. Electric sparks seemed to jump off their flesh with each subtle shift of their bodies. Len’s could feel the tandem pounding of their hearts against each other’s ribs and a groan caught in his throat as Spock worked a hand over his shaft from length to tip, stroking him to full arousal and guiding him to Jim’s waiting entrance. His eyes locked on crystal blue, breath hitching in frantic gasps, as the Vulcan’s warm voice drifted across the bond. “Relax your bodies. Allow me to pleasure you.”
They didn’t relax, they melted, turning into sticky sweet placidity against each other’s chests. He felt Spock’s hand caressing and cupping his ass, exerting steady, tensing pressure and suddenly he was sliding over Jim, sliding into Jim, the weight of his body sending shock waves of sensation coursing through both their extremities. Beneath him, Jim was panting, his head whipping back and forth as he fought the urge to cling and pull and meet the invading thrust. Jim’s utter pliancy gave Len unprecedented access and Spock was relentless, seating him further and further.
It was hot and tight and oh God DAMN perfect and Spock had stopped pushing him forward, content now to simply hold him balls-deep in Jim’s body. For his own part, Jim had thrown restraint and inhibition to the wind, and a litany of gasps, moans, and filthy endearments was pouring from his mouth and washing mindlessly over the bond. His arms sprawled above his head, tangling with Len’s own boneless limbs in the soft sheets.
They were Spock’s, willing and malleable in the face of whatever illogical plan the Vulcan was hatching in that inventive mind of his. All Len knew was that his body was hovering on the brink of cataclysm, poised to fall over the edge. He pressed a damp forehead to Jim’s, their eyes alight with matching anticipation as Spock rocked them lightly against each other, the slick silk of oiled skin gliding with delicious friction. He watched Jim’s eyes screw tight as the Vulcan’s careful ministrations stroked him in and out of Jim’s body, the depth of his penetration increasing with each forward thrust. The movements were tortuously subtle, perfectly designed to ignite the body but stave off ultimate release, and Len was beginning to wonder if this was Spock’s game when a healthy dose of the warmed oil drizzled across his ass and lower back. Long fingers worked the liquid over and into his body, probing him deeply, making him slick and ready and desperate.
His heart might have stuttered when he first felt Spock breach him, might have literally skipped a beat or two. His breath seized and his vision blurred as Spock pushed relentlessly forward, stretching him and claiming him fully. The Vulcan had one firm hand on his hip, another gently but immovably on the nape of his neck, driving deep, deep inside Len’s unresisting body
He managed to gather his meager strength and braced himself on his elbows, bearing just enough weight to make the delicate shift of their bodies against each other easy and fluid. Out Spock would slide, withdrawing nearly all the way, dragging him back across Jim’s chest until nothing but the sensitized heads of their erections were still nestled in the bodies beneath them. Then forward, hard and steady and unyielding, filling him inch by inch, driving him back, hilt deep, into Jim. Flush together Spock held them, every inch of their skin on fire for each other, the thin film of oil turning to liquid flame as Spock rasped them against each other.
It was torture, in the most perfect sense, and Len drank it up eagerly. His mind was utterly blank, concerned with nothing but the fierce sensations running across their bond. Spock was drawing this out, holding them on the brink, the stimulation enough to drive them crazy with need but not release. His mouth was too busy panting to form words but helpless, pleading whimpers echoed from both his and Jim’s throats. Behind him, he could practically feel Spock’s smile.
“Jim, Leonard. What do you wish?”
“Faster.”
“Harder.”
“So be it.”
The first real thrust nearly killed him, nearly shorted out his brain with an overdose of pure pleasure. The hot hands stayed firm on his hips as Spock pistoned into him, each thrust going deeper, driving him deeper into Jim. The weighty slap of Spock’s sac against his ass, the glove-like clutch of Jim’s body around his throbbing dick, the hard press of Jim’s own needy erection against his stomach all blended and ran together. Separate thoughts became impossible, became blurred and runny around the edges. There was just Spock riding them mercilessly and Jim beneath him, arching off the bed, his nails scouring Len’s shoulders and his mouth begging and begging for more. Len’s brain was just gone. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. All he could do was feel, feel everything, feel Spock cupping his chin, feel the rough Vulcan tongue on the column of his throat, feel Spock’s fingers as they slipped into Jim’s mouth to be laved and caressed as a growl ripped from the Vulcan’s chest and oh dammit he rode them even harder and… oh FUCK, he was going to come and it was going to fucking kill him but he didn’t care because he’d die happy and…
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep…
Aw, fucking Hell.
The computer console across his office roared to life as data charts began uploading on the screen. Len blinked rapidly, his temporarily displaced brain taking in the neat, organized confines of the room around him. No silk-lined beds or lust addled spouses here, just data PADDS and deadly diseases. Dammit, he’d drifted off again and the memories of the prior night had come tumbling to the forefront of his mind. Unless it was Jim again, accidentally projecting his own X-rated daydreams onto him. With a shake of his head, Len quickly discounted that theory. Jim just wouldn’t do that, not with the handle-with-care attitude the kid had adopted towards him lately.
He understood it, really, he did, and it wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate Jim’s efforts. Len had been clear that Jim needed to find his own path to redemption, and James T. Kirk was universe-renowned for jumping into any challenge with both feet. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Jim’s personally paved road to contrition would involve abstinence of some sort. After all, as far as Jim was concerned, his over-enthusiastic sexual appetite had been a catalyst for all their trouble.
The two of them had awoken that morning in a sated, lethargic, sticky heap in the middle of their bed, sprawled all over each other in some absurd human Gordian knot. Spock was nowhere to be seen, but the subtle, soothing sensations of meditation hovered at the edge of the bond. Len had smirked and attempted to unwind their heavy limbs. Leave it to the damn hobgoblin to debauch them into delirium and then go grab a shower.
A shower. Yes, they’d needed a shower and they’d somehow managed to drag, trip, and stumble their way into the stall on legs made of jelly, the hot water finally coaxing them back to a state of actual consciousness. He’d drunk in Jim’s warm smile as the kid pulled him under the spray, working over his body with soap and flannel. Jim’s touch had been warm, gentle, and generous, but when he’d reached out to reciprocate, the damn kid had proved remarkably elusive, distracting him with banter and kisses before ducking beneath the water and dashing out of the room.
Sighing aloud, Len stared blankly in the direction of his computer screen, his mind wandering as he waited for the results. This was becoming the new standard in their relationship; Jim’s stubborn refusal to allow Len to give him anything in return. Leaning back in his chair, Len allowed himself a frustrated groan. Hell, was there anyone else in the known universe more skilled than he at digging himself into a hole? He was the one who told Jim to find a way to forgive himself. So what if he didn’t like the plan. So what if he needed to touch the kid like he needed to breathe. Jim had to find a way to get over it, and he was just going to have to live with the process, even if it was driving him insane.
At his desk, Len pressed a finger to each temple with a frustrated grimace. Holy hell, why hadn’t he just sent the kid on a fucking scavenger hunt and called it even?
Across the office, the computer continued to tabulate, the results of his most recent series of tests carefully compiling into the database. Shaking his head a bit, Len forced his mind away from his tricky relationship and back to the subject at hand.
It had been an interesting month at the lab, but interesting was a dubious word. His mental acuity was finally back to full capacity and his instincts were still pulling him in one specific direction, but he found himself fighting an uphill battle every day. The months he had spent coping with the unresolved bond had damaged his credibility with the rest of the team. Maybe. In all honesty, he wasn’t really sure where he stood with them. They spoke respectfully and listened as he voiced his thoughts and ideas, only to turn around and go along with every fucking thing the damn Betazoid told them like a bunch of brain dead sheep.
Stalking over to the window, Len sipped his coffee and seethed. His feelings about Dr. Jovanni Tor were complicated and confusing. Sure, Jim and Spock couldn’t stand the man on principle, but Len still wasn’t sure how much of that might be bias against the guy who tried to seduce their bondmate. Tor was professional to him, maintaining a respectful distance that Len appreciated, but for reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint, the man still pissed him off. The members of the team deferred to him, accepted his word as if it were gospel, and for the life of him, Len couldn’t understand why. Tor’s research direction seemed sound, sensible, but some deeply rooted gut feeling just told Len it was wrong, and he couldn’t believe that among a group of such highly accomplished minds, there were no other dissenters.
Another beep chirped from the computer as the compilation screeched to a halt. Picking up his PADD, Len began to scan the results.
And his stomach began to sink.
*
It was the door that alerted him, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps pacing quickly through the apartment. It was impossible to tell which one at this distance; their height and the gait of their stride too similar to differentiate in his half-drunken stupor. Of course, it would be easy to determine if he wanted. All he’d have to do was let up on the rock-solid block he slammed down on the bond when he’d exited his office and he’d know immediately which one of them was scurrying around the penthouse, searching him out. He wasn’t ready to do that yet, though. Why should they have to suffer; he was the fuck-up, after all, not them.
There was pressure in his head, some from the bourbon, no doubt, but also from an outside source, a hand knocking gently at the door he’s slammed shut. Spock. Had to be. It was gentle and entreating and Jim just didn’t have that velvet touch yet. Was Spock the one thundering through the apartment? No, definitely not. It was definitely Jim’s voice that split through his head.
“Bones!”
It was impossible to miss the hint of accusation that laced Jim’s words as he strode into the study and plunked himself down on the window seat across from Len’s prone form, his face alight with furious disbelief. The blue eyes ran over him, taking in his rumpled, miserable appearance and the half-empty bottle nestled in the chair beside him. Len shut his eyes against the assessment and felt the gentle pressure in his head retreat away from the block. Great. Jim had told Spock he’d found him, no doubt, which probably meant the pointy-eared bastard was en route, chock full of logical reasons for why Len wasn’t a failure. More shit he didn’t want to hear.
Cracking an eye, he met Jim’s gaze and watched as concern and frustration fought it out in the deep, deep blue. It was kinda pretty, actually, but the expression Jim was making wasn’t as he shook his head.
“What the hell, Bones. You can’t just block us out like that. It isn’t fair.” Jumping to his feet, Jim seized him by the shoulders and leaned over him. “You scared the shit out of us. Dammit, you had to know we’d flip out. You only just got better.” Pulling away, he leaned heavily against the window, his shoulders stiff with anger. “You know, I’d love to see how you’d react if either one of us pulled some shit like this. You wouldn’t stop bitching for a month. You can’t do this, okay. You need time in your own head, fine, but you have to give us some kind of warning. Jesus, Bones.”
The bottle hit the rug with a dull plunk as he jumped unsteadily to his feet. The damn kid’s yelling was hurting his head but the bubbling eruption of righteous indignation that ripped through him numbed him to the pain. “I don’t have to give you shit,” he raged, his face red and his voice spewing disdain, “I don’t have to do one goddamned thing. It’s my mind and if I wanna boot your ass out of it, then dammit, I will. Man’s got a right to his own thoughts, no matter what you or the hobgoblin might think. You don’t like it, well then, stay out of my head forever, and you’ll never know the damn difference. I never wanted you there in the first place.”
He teetered unevenly and felt Jim’s arm catch his waist, holding him close as he lowered him, carefully, back down to the wingchair. He pushed futilely against the strong shoulders but Jim didn’t move away, sliding into the chair beside him and holding him close. His head was swimming and he could feel the gentle push again as Spock’s renewed presence stroked gently over the extremities of his mind. Turning his head into Jim’s shoulder, he nestled his head in and fought his own tears.
“I’ve got you, Bones,” Jim’s voice whispered against his temple. “I’m right here. Look, you’d never just do something like this. I know that and that’s why I freaked out. Tell me what happened, Bones. Please, so I can help.”
The voice and arms were soft and soothing and he pressed closer, soaking up the much-needed comfort as Jim stroked gentle fingers through his hair. “There’s nothing you can help with, Jim. Unless, of course, you want to help me tell Spock that his entire race is going to die.”
The arms around him tensed. “Bones, don’t say that. You were feeling good about the direction things were heading and I’m sure that…”
A hand clamped firmly over Jim’s lips and it took Len a moment to realize it was his own. Sighing, he met Jim’s worried gaze. “Take a look for yourself,” he murmured, and dropped his shields.
His heart was heavy as he watched the full measure of understanding register in Jim’s eyes.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“Well, shit, Bones, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s one stupid series of tests. So, you’ve eliminated these options and…”
“Dammit, Jim, it’s not that simple.” He tried to pull himself out of the chair, but his equilibrium was still shot to crap. Hovering on the edge of the seat, he let his head sink into his hands. “I’ve been pursuing this direction single-mindedly since I joined the project, pursuing it because I knew it was right. I haven’t cultivated other avenues. I haven’t entertained other theories. And what am I supposed to do if the direction I know to be right turns out to be wrong? What does this mean for Vulcan? I don’t have any other ideas. I don’t have anything else to offer.”
“Bones, you’re just one member. Aren’t there other…”
“NO! No, Jim, no. They’re wrong.” With a furious wrench, he pulled himself out of the chair and whirled around. “They’re wrong, dammit. I know it all looks good on a PADD but it’s a dead end, I know it is. And they’re all going along with it, all pursuing it like it’s the miracle cure. I don’t trust it, and I don’t trust him.”
“Who?”
Len glared, “Who do you think?”
Jim’s back tensed, and a ripple of disgust raced across the bond. “Okay, look,” he bit out slowly, “you know better than anyone how I personally feel about that bastard, but he is a highly qualified research scientist, right. Maybe you should…”
“It’s wrong, Jim.” Len exploded. “I can’t follow him, too.” Pacing back and forth across the room, he pressed the heel of his hand between his eyes. “Oh, hell, what the fuck do I even know? Everything I thought made sense has turned out to be wrong. Maybe Tor knows what he’s doing. Maybe I’m just as arrogant as I am stubborn, but I just can’t trust it and I don’t…”Slumping down on the window seat, he let his shoulders hang. “Shit…I just…I have to get out of here.”
He was halfway through the kitchen when Jim caught him, wheeling him around to face him. “Like hell, Bones. You aren’t leaving in this condition.”
“Let go,” he snarled, yanking his arm away. “You think just because you backed me into a corner and forced me into some messed up arranged marriage, you get to tell me what to do.”
H wanted them back the second they left his mouth, wanted to reach out and hold Jim as the poor kid literally diminished beneath the crush of those words. He just couldn’t, though, the rage and despair weighting his arms and dulling his conscience as Jim staggered two steps back to lean painfully but resolutely against the front door.
“Okay, Bones,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the floor, “I’m going to concentrate on what you’re feeling right now, not on what you’re saying. If you want to lash out at me, fine, and if you wanna run out of here so you can walk around feeling sorry for yourself, then you go ahead, but I’m not letting you leave unless you do two things.”
He grimaced, “What?”
“First, you’re not walking out the door in this condition, so you walk over there to your little bag of tricks and mix up something to sober you the hell up. I mean it,” he continued when Len opened his mouth to protest.
Swallowing a growl, Len stomped over to his med bag and grabbed a hypo, snapping it together and holding it to his neck. An unwelcome sense of clarity flooded his system and he glared up at Jim from his crouch on the floor. “Satisfied?”
“Almost. Give me your PADD.”
“Why?”
Clear, blue, immoveable eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. “Because you might be perfectly happy to label yourself a failure, but I have a little more faith. I want to take a look at your results.”
“You won’t even know what you’re looking at.”
“Yeah, well, I guess that’ll be my problem then, but if you want me to let you out of here, you’re gonna give me the damned PADD.”
They stared at each other furiously, ugly fire dancing in both their eyes, but Len already felt the fight leaking out of him. Grabbing the PADD out of his bag, he tossed it wildly to the left. Jim shot him an ugly glare as he sidestepped to snag it out of the air, and Len slipped quickly through the vacated door.
He didn’t turn back as it slid shut behind him.
It was five hours later when he finally made it back to the penthouse. The walk had done a lot for his general emotional upheaval but the imposing sense of failure still hung heavy upon him as he palmed open the front door. He could feel them both now and he listened for a moment, detecting the muffled sound of voices from the study. He sighed but made his way towards the door. He’d unloaded so much of his own misery on Jim and the poor kid was already tip-toeing around him. He needed to smooth this over.
He expected Jim and Spock but not the head of chestnut ringlets and the perky disposition that met him at the door.
“Doktor McCoy,” chirped the Russian whiz-kid, “Iz good to see you.”
The kids smile was bright and mirrored enthusiastically by Jim from behind the desk. Spock stood to the left, his own expression rather satisfied, and Len felt his stomach lurch.
They’d found something.
Jim bolted from behind the desk, his expression practically gleeful as he threw an arm around Len’s neck and held him close. “You damn, stubborn ass,” he murmured into Len’s neck, “Why do you always have to land so hard on yourself. I trust you, Bones. I trust you to fix anything and I know that you’re on the right track.”
Yanking away, Len stalked furiously towards the window. “Dammit, Jim. I don’t need a pep-talk. This isn’t just me getting down on myself. There are much more serious things at play here.”
Grabbing him by the shoulder, Jim pulled him back around to face him, frustration staining his features. “Christ, Bones, don’t you think I know that. Believe me, things are much more serious than you even know, if my suspicions turn out to be correct. Now come over here and sit the hell the down so we can explain.”
Rampant curiosity did a lot to tamp down on his dejection and Bones found himself walking over and throwing himself into one of the overstuffed chairs. Jim bounded back behind the desk to poke away at the computer over Chekov’s shoulders, his face suddenly focused and serious. Drawing back, he patted the young ensign on the shoulder. “Okay, Pav, tell him.”
The kid smiled, “Okay, Doktor, I know you vill say you are a doctor, not a computer specialist, so I vill keep zhis simple. You may not be avare of zhis, but it is nearly impossible to hack into a computer system vithout leaving some kind of trace. On zhe keptin’s hunch, ve hafe retraced the computer records of the Wulcan plague research, and ve hafe stumbled upon just such a signature. Doktor, someone has been hacking into your system!”
Len allowed the words to sink in, his mind reeling. Someone had hacked his system. “What exactly does that mean,” he bit out, his voice teeming with frustration, “Are you telling me someone got into the system and changed the results?” His stomach clenched at the implications.
Across the desk, Jim grimaced, “They did something Bones, and while I can’t prove conclusively that the results were changed, there isn’t really any other reason to break into this system. I mean, the Vulcans have a vested interest in the proceeding, obviously, and many of them are exceptional computer techs, but they’re just too far away and too sick. Besides, all they’d want is a look, I’m sure, and the traces indicate that something was altered in the database. So yeah, I can’t prove that it was your results but, like I said, what else could it be?”
Staring at his clenched fists, Len felt his chest tighten in anger. Sensing the inevitable explosion, Jim carefully maneuvered Chekov towards the door, enthusiastically thanking the young ensign for his help. He’d walked the kid all the way to the front door and found his way back to the study before Len found his words.
“Jesus H. Christ, Jim,” he burst out, leaping to his feet to pace frantically before the desk. “What the hell are you telling me? If someone’s been changing my results, that means that any of those discarded serums could be a cure. Dammit, I don’t even know if I can replicate some of them.” His heart leaped in his chest, knotting tightly, and he winced at the pain. His eyes scanned desperately over the two faces before him, stark and bleak. There was something in Jim’s eyes, though, something more, and he found himself pressing against their bond despite himself. “Why, Jim? Why would anyone break into my damn computer? You know something, dammit. I can see it in your eyes.”
Jim nodded, his face ashen, “Yeah, I know something, but I had to wait until Pav left. Here, sit,” he murmured, gesturing towards Len’s vacated chair. “What I’m about to tell you two is strictly confidential and needs to stay that way, but I think it might be the answer.” Casting a concerned look towards Spock, he continued. “Okay, there was a bunch of stuff that we discussed at the conference, and this wasn’t even a major issue, but Starfleet has been doing some covert recon to search out better, faster, cheaper energy sources to power the bases and ships. I mean, they’re always doing that, but recently they actually stumbled on something that might have some promise. It’s a little knows mineral called narellium.”
Len’s mouth fell open but Jim rushed on ahead. “I know, Bones. I saw it in the report. But first, you should know this. Narellium is completely untapped and unprocessed. Currently, we have no way of harnessing its chemical structure to unleash its energy reserve. According to the geologists who spoke, though, it has the potential to produce roughly ten times the output of any known fuel source. It will literally blow dilithium right out of the water.”
Len shot a quick glance at Spock, standing stiffly beside the desk. The Vulcan’s mouth was tight and his eyes were dark with suspicion, and Len had a feeling Spock already knew where Jim was heading with this.
“So, yeah, Bones, the second I read your report, I had this sinking feeling. New Vulcan has enormous deposits of narellium. It’s one of the crucial building blocks of the planet’s geological make-up, and if someone were to find that out, well, it would be one a hell of a motivation to mess with the test results, right? I mean, right now the planet is classified as the official homeland of a sentient race but if that entire race dies off, the planet is up for claim again. All anyone would need to do is place the highest bid.”
Len felt sick, the clench in his stomach giving way to rolling waves of nausea. “Who the hell would do that,” he murmured, fixing his eyes on one unmoving spot on the floor.
Across the desk, he heard Spock draw a deep, angry breath. “Leonard, who can say. There are simply too many who are willing to profit off the death and destruction of others.” His voice was tight with barely leashed fury and Len found himself reaching out to take his hand.
“Hey now, Spock, listen to me. If this is true, then the cure might already exist, okay. So don’t you dare get all down and depressed. That’s my damn job.”
Spock nodded, squeezing his hand lightly. “I am not dejected, Leonard, simply encountering emotions upon which I do not wish to dwell. I am angry at the selfishness of a few, which negatively impacts the many.” Pulling away gently, he stared stiffly at the far wall. “My people have suffered so much. They have lost their home, their history, their culture. When I lost my mother, I could at least take some small comfort in the understanding that her death was the result of another’s legitimate pain and suffering. It wasn’t fair or right, but it was manageable. This, however, is not. I cannot countenance losing what is left of my race, losing my father, because of someone’s quest for monetary gain.”
Spock’s fists were clenching and his voice tight and Len could feel the helpless fury coursing across their bond. His eyes locked with Jim’s as the other man stepped forward and took the rigid Vulcan gently by the shoulders.
“Listen to me,” he began firmly, “Spock, listen to me right now. That isn’t going to happen, Spock. We aren’t going to let it happen. We know what’s going on now and knowing is half the battle, right. Well, the other half is fixing what’s broken, and we’re going to do that right now.” Keeping an arm tight around Spock’s shoulders, Jim wheeled them both around to face Len, still slumped incredulously in his chair. “Bones, which series of tests do you think has the most promise?” he asked.
Pushing himself to his feet, Len ran a hand over his face. “These new ones are the most likely candidates. I’ve refined them pretty well. I had really high hopes for them,” he continued sheepishly, “which is probably why I freaked out so bad.” His face was filled with apology but Jim shook his head easily.
“All things considered, I’d say it was justified.” He said, an easy smile on his face, “Now, we need to re-run these tests. What’ll that entail?”
Leonard squeezed his eyes shut. “Well, there are twenty-five different serums in this series. It’ll take me about four hours to prep and file all the slides and another ten to actually run the test. The problem, though, is that the tests have already been registered as failures in the project’s database, and you said yourself that we don’t have any way of proving that it was actually the results that were changed. That will leave some serious room for doubt and anyone who is trying to stall the cure could easily use that to muddy the waters.”
Jim nodded. “What do you suggest, Doctor?”
Len frowned in consideration. “We’ll need to establish constant surveillance on the tests as they run. Someone needs to be sitting over those samples the whole time. Then, I’ll tabulate the results by hand so there won’t be any opportunity to change them.” Leaning back in his chair, he eyed Jim seriously. “It’ll have to be you and me, okay. I just can’t trust anyone else. We can do it in shifts.”
Jim nodded but his easy agreement was immediately interrupted by the steady, forceful voice of their Vulcan. “That would be grossly impractical, Leonard, especially considering your current level of fatigue.” Gliding away from the wall, he pinned the two humans with a piercing gaze. “You are, of course, well aware of my body’s superior stamina and abbreviated rest requirements. It would be far more sensible for me to undertake the observation.”
Leonard felt his stomach turn. “Dammit, Spock, I thought I made it clear that you weren’t going anywhere near any of those tests. I don’t care if the Lord God himself tells me you’re immune. That still isn’t a good reason to go playing around with stuff that might kill you.”
A burst of fire leaped in Spock’s eyes, belying his calm facade. “Doctor, it is my people who are in danger, and if I see fit to undertake a risk on their behalf, I’ll thank you to let me do it. Besides, I consider the risk minimal.”
Len snorted, “Oh, and why is that?”
A warm, gentle caress drifted across their bond and Len shivered beneath the feel of it. “Doctor, do you believe your cure is the correct one?”
Narrowing his eyes, Len nodded. Spock raised a brow, “Then I am certain that I am in no danger. In the rare event that I do fall ill, you will simply make me better."
Part Two