That's Why You Close Your Eyes: Chapter One
Title: That's Why You Close Your Eyes
Author: Lilbatfacedgirl
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spock/Kirk/McCoy
Warnings: Language, mild sexual content, violence
A/N: I'm posting this next chapter rather fast. I am not typically a super fast poster. Just want to give everyone the warning up front. Thanks to Spikeface for excellent constructive criticism
Summary: Jim and Bones 2gether 4ever, til Spock gets in the way
Chapter One:
It is a common misconception that the term “communication” refers only to the spoken word. But as Nyota Uhura was “unsurpassed” in this particular art form, she was aware of all its numerous sub-genres. Inflection, for example, infused simple words with layers of hidden meaning. Syntax, the task of word selection, was also very telling to the observant ear. And of course, one couldn’t dismiss the importance of body language. Nyota was the consummate expert, a master of interpretation and it was armed with the indisputable proof of her own well trained eyes and ears that she had approached Commander Spock and ended their relationship.
Because she wasn’t blind! She had seen what lay between them, her lover and the captain of her ship. The captain…..no, Jim, because when you gracefully bowed out and let another person have the man you loved, you were allowed to used the guy’s name…Jim possessed a wealth of life experiences that made him uniquely suitable to help Spock cope with the emotional upheaval he was experiencing. Outsider status, parental disappointment, parental loss. Nyota counted herself lucky to have no experience with these things, whereas Jim Kirk had practically written the book. She loved Spock, of that she was certain, loved him enough to know what he needed, and her well trained eye told her he was finding it in Jim.
It had felt good, in a sense; this stepping away, removing herself from their unfolding dynamic. And a part of her admitted to a delicious curiosity. Just what would these two do together? In fact, her personal feelings in the matter might have remained completely unqualified, except that Nyota’s keen powers of observation weren’t limited to her captain and his first. There was also the matter of the doctor.
Leonard H. McCoy was a man who had earned her admiration and respect. She was pretty sure he was also Jim’s lover and even as Nyota stepped away to clear a path between her ex and her captain, she couldn’t help but feel that she was betraying a good man. The guilt grated on her, forced her to remind herself that she had observed a real potential between the men, the potential to be extraordinary, to do the extraordinary and she had too much faith in her own abilities to believe that she was wrong.
As for Leonard, well, once again she had to admit she wasn’t blind. He and Jim shared something, something special, something important, something that had helped shape Jim into the CO he had become. And she had seen the way Spock eyed the doctor, his mouth set, his expression one of challenge. Already, their verbal sparring was becoming the stuff of legends but the hostility had remained muted as long as Spock downplayed his desire for Jim. Unfortunately, Nyota was pretty sure this restraint had been for her benefit and not out of respect for the doctor. Now that she had effectively taken herself out of the equation, Spock would step up his pursuit. He was brilliant and deductive. He certainly recognized the potential. And he would consider it illogical to prevaricate over something as silly as human emotional attachment.
Nyota sighed as she observed the captain step out of his ready room deep in conversation with Spock. No one could miss the chemistry there, certainly not someone like Leonard McCoy. She caught Spock’s eye a second before the turbo lift doors slid shut, recognized the lift of his brow. Oh yeah, it was on, and Nyota had a feeling it was going to get messy.
***************
Amber was a funny color. When one removed all of its romanticized affiliations, it was, quite honestly, the color of cow piss. But as Leonard held his tumbler up in front of his eye, he thought the world had never looked better than it did through a glass of brandy. The sloshing, amber liquid effectively distorted a reality he no longer wanted to face.
Everything ached. His armpits were tender and abraded, his shoulder blades black with bruises. His chin was ringed with purple, fingertip sized blemishes that smarted each time he took a drink. Not that that was slowing him down any. And Len also couldn’t ignore the strange, nagging pressure in his head. Damn. He didn’t think he’d drunk that much yet. Well, however much it was, it wasn’t enough. It hadn’t drowned out the pain in his chest yet.
What surprised him most was that he could actually still be surprised. He’d been cast aside and rejected by everyone who was supposed to stay and he couldn’t understand why he’d thought Jim would be different. That was why this killed him, his own naiveté, because for some reason, despite all evidence to the contrary, a part of him deep down had actually believed that Jim would keep his word, that when he said forever he would actually mean it. Well, pity the foolish southern doctor, because Jim had definitely moved on and if the pain in Len’s back and arms were any indication, his new lover wasn’t planning on letting him look back.
Len poured himself another double and leaned his head back against the sterile walls of his office. He should get a regenerator on his arms and especially his chin before someone saw him. His medically minded staff might be the soul of discretion but who knew what wagging tongues might wander into sickbay. But healing would mean responsibility, would mean a world outside of this room and this bottle, where he would still be expected to perform as CMO under the command of the man who drop-kicked his heart and the pointy-eared bastard who’d stolen him away.
Perhaps the greatest irony of all this was that Leonard had encouraged Jim to befriend Spock in the first place. He had been intrigued by Jim’s description of Spock-of-the-future and the great friendship to which he had alluded. And once Spock signed on as first officer, it had only made sense for Len to encourage the two to get along. Healthy friendships would lead to a healthy crew, he rationalized. Besides, he’d seen what the two could accomplish when they worked together towards a common goal and he was in favor of anything that would keep the Enterprise safe, efficient, and in one piece.
So he had supported them, nursed their camaraderie, stepped back and given them plenty of room to build the foundations of a friendship. And yes, he had noticed when Jim started missing meals to talk with Spock or coming in late without comming but he’d kept his mouth shut because a healthy relationship between the two was important and damned if he was going to add unnecessary complications by acting the part of the jealous, possessive boyfriend.
He had tried to behave, tried so hard. And initially he had chalked it up to paranoia, to an overactive imagination honed by years of emotional indifference and abused trust. He had doubted his own eyes, ears, and well developed instincts because a part of him couldn’t believe that the green-blooded asshole could care enough about anyone to risk an emotional confrontation. But apparently Jim was worth it because the pointy-eared bastard had made his intentions perfectly clear. And he was apparently a better strategist than Len gave him credit for. If he saw emotion as a weakness, he also knew how that weakness could be exploited.
It turned out that Spock was a consummate master in the fine art of passive aggression. There was no blatancy in his attack, just carefully placed jabs designed to penetrate Len’s armor at its weakest points. It was apparent in the subtle way he questioned the competency of Leonard’s medical decisions, his inquiries harsh and unfair but perfectly justifiable in light of his role as first officer. It was in the cool, logical, veiled insults that constantly backed the doctor into a wall, causing him to lash out in emotion and encouraging Jim to rein him in affectionately. One day he looked up and realized that he had become their private joke, the thing they shook their heads at together, eyes meeting in mutual amusement.
It had hurt but he had believed in Jim and a part of him still thought that Spock was just the new toy at Christmas, that the luster would eventually fade. So, he had switched tactics, keeping away from Spock so as to avoid the confrontations that left him feeling patronized and abandoned. And he had indulged Jim, even as more and more of their alone time became dedicated to regalements of Spock; how in-tuned they were, how well they worked together, how they could practically read each others’ minds. And then Jim had dropped the bombshell and Len’s good intentions had flown right out the airlock.
“What the hell do you mean, you let him meld with you? What the fuck were you thinking?” Len’s blood pressure was spiking as he paced Jim’s cabin. “Do you have any idea what this means?”
Jim held up his hands in placation. “Bones, relax. I know you freak out about my health but trust me, its fine. You ran a scan yourself after Delta Vega and you were convinced that the ambassador didn’t do me any damage. Relax. You know he’d never hurt me.”
Len glared at him for whole minutes. How could a man so brilliant be so goddamned obtuse? “Really,” he replied in a carefully clipped tone, “because I thought the bastard tried to kill you. Twice. But you know what? I’m actually completely uninterested in your health right now. No, kid, this is about you and me and where our boundaries lie.”
Jim sobered. “Bones, c’mon. It isn’t like that at all. We’re friends, you know, like you wanted us to be. I know Vulcans attach a lot of deep meaning to melds but you make it sound like I’m cheating!”
Bones felt his self-control teetering on the brink. He was stressed and tired and in no mood to swallow bullshit from the man he loved. Taking a deep breath, he replied in an artificially calm voice, “Jim, do you remember what word you used when you first told me about your meld with the older guy? Intimate, Jim, you called it intimate. You said it was strange how natural it felt to be so intimate with a guy you barely knew. So don’t sit here and lie to my face and tell me that it isn’t crossing some kind of line!”
“Bones, what the…..” but the door cut off the punch line as Leonard fled into the corridor.
It had taken three days of mutual avoidance before Jim had cracked and plunked himself down on a chair in Len’s office with an expression of mild surliness coloring his face. They had engaged in a short stare-off before Len had thrown the kid a line and launched into an explanation of the schedule for crew vaccination boosters. Jim had departed with a smile but it hadn’t escaped Len’s notice that the captain had carefully avoided any definitive statements regarding mind-melds.
Something had changed then. A wall built of secrecy and un-expressed resentment had been erected in a relationship founded on honesty and trust. Where they had once been open, now they were guarded, cautious, measuring their words and responses to the other’s carefully concealed mood. Len was now the burden, while Jim’s interactions with Spock were easy, effortless. And Len knew Spock was no fool. He would see the vulnerability and pounce.
When Leonard was honest with himself, he admitted that he was deliberately avoiding Jim but even he hadn’t thought that the lack of communication would extend to life or death situations. To be the captain or CMO of a Constitution Class starship meant occasionally coping with crew mortality and they had grown accustomed to dealing with it together. So when geologist Thomas Spector died in surgery following a planet side rock slide, Len knew Jim would need some comfort.
Spector had been a bright eyed kid, only months out of the academy, when he had shuttled to safety off the USS Kelvin, his life saved by the selfless sacrifice of one George Kirk. Jim was protective of the man, his life a tangible justification of his own father’s death. And it just offended Len on some visceral level to lose patients to random acts of god. He’d tried everything, but still the man had slipped away and as he sat nursing his third glass of Tennessee whiskey, he mused on what he could say to Jim when the young captain inevitably made his appearance.
Only Jim never showed up.
Now this was just wrong on two sides of the coin. Jim always came to him when he needed to cope with the death of a crew member. Jim always came to him when Len lost someone in surgery. It was a hard and fast rule and nothing ever got in the way. Until tonight. Leonard twisted around to peer at the chronometer mounted above his couch. It was almost one a.m. Where the hell was he?
Leonard prided himself on his intuition and right now every sense he possessed was screaming at him to turn around, to head back to his cabin. But some masochistic drive pushed him forward, down the corridors, to stand in front of Jim’s door. His palm itched but he made himself press it to the door and step inside.
The room was empty, the bedclothes pulled up in a semblance of order, the air slightly chilled. It was clear that the room had been unoccupied for some time. Leonard’s momentary sense of relief was replaced with fury. Was he in Spock’s room?
Leonard was tired of rationality, of patience when all it seemed to mean was his pain and humiliation. He strode purposefully towards the first officer’s cabin, all manners of profanity running through his inebriated mind, when a young ensign in a red engineering coverall sidled past him. Leonard stopped and shook his head, castigating himself for his own stupidity. Dammit, of course.
Scotty had been the one to introduce the two of them to the Engineering observatory, a tiny, glass floored room in the bottom of the main hold. It was designed to allow engineering to spot possible external problems without spacewalking but the room was seldom in use and Len and Jim had adopted it as their own some months ago. Len sighed as he exited the turbo lift and wound his way through the engineering corridors. It had been quite a while since they’d come here together. No wonder he hadn’t thought of it.
He was feeling contrite and ten times an idiot as he approached the tiny door and keyed in the locking code. The door slid open silently and he stepped into the darkened control vestibule. He was still rehearsing lines of apology in his mind when he glanced into the main observatory.
And his breath froze in his chest.
The room was unlit but the running lights of the Enterprise shone through the glass flooring, illuminating the room in a golden glow. Pieces of Starfleet regulation uniform littered the floor and Leonard nearly stumbled on a boot as he came to a standstill in the doorway, eyes locked on the scene unfolding before him.
Spock sprawled flat on his back on the glass, casting a Vulcan shaped shadow against the ceiling and wall. His back arched and his hands traced patterns on the bare chest and back of one James Tiberius Kirk, who was straddling his waist, riding him with complete abandon. The dull hum of the engines was overshadowed by the delicate panting breaths, the slide and slap of bare skin on skin.
Leonard knew Jim, knew how the man approached sex. For Jim Kirk, loving and fucking were two different things, each with their own rules and protocols. And this scene, no matter how debaucherous, wasn’t blind need, senseless, animal, take-me-away-from-my-misery fucking. Not with Jim sprawling over Spock’s chest, pressing their lips together, stealing each other’s breath. Not with Spock planting his feet, wrapping an arm around Jim’s waist, driving him down on his shaft, harder and faster, while he fisted Jim’s hair, thoroughly tonguing his mouth. No, this was intimacy, this was connection. This was love.
Leonard never even realized he’d left the room. He had no recollection of the turbo lift, the corridors, the door to his cabin. All he knew was he was sitting on his bed when Jim commed him an hour later. He answered on autopilot, his face blank, his eyes dead, and acknowledged Jim’s words with a non-committal nod.
“So, can I come over?”
The inquisitive tone startled Len out of his daze, “What?”
“Bones, snap out of it, man. I’m sorry it’s so late but can I come over?”
Len heard the words but it was beyond him to formulate an answer. He starred at the face on the screen in front of him, studying each detail as if for the last time. His voice was flat, empty, and inflectionless when he finally replied, “Its late Jim. I need to go to bed.”
Len kept his eyes averted as Jim searched his face, “Look, I’ll be good. We can go right to bed. I just want to hold you, okay. It’s been a shitty day and….”
“I saw, Jim.”
It would prove a small consolation to Len, later on, that he had actually managed to render Jim Kirk speechless. The kid’s eyes had panicked and he had repeatedly opened and closed his mouth, considering and dismissing empty explanations. But Len was tired, so tired, and all he wanted was his bed and a deep, dreamless sleep. He reached towards the comm button.
Jim threw up his hands, stumbling over his words, “Wait, Bones, look, I…I can explain…I mean…It’s not what…..”
“Goodnight, Jim.”
The screen went black.
***********************
The next day was a waiting game for Leonard McCoy. The ship was in transit and the sickbay completely deserted. Never one to overburden himself with unnecessary company, Len put the rest of the staff on call and locked himself away in his office to catch up on some paperwork. And he waited, impatiently, for the inevitable visitor to find his way into sickbay.
But when the doors slid open, it wasn’t Jim.
It was Spock.
He strode into the sickbay with a faint air of aggression. Leonard had little familiarity with the mating rights of Vulcans, the entire society keeping the specifics shrouded in secrecy, but he remembered reading something in Xenobiology about the ceremonial challenge for a mate that had been common among the Vulcans in the pre-Reform era. It was supposed to be a challenge to the death and Leonard had the distinct impression he was walking into just such a situation now. His suspicion was only confirmed when Spock keyed the door shut with the first officer’s override. No one could get in now but Jim.
Well, Spock might be a Vulcan but Leonard McCoy was an irascible southern asshole who could hold his own in pretty much any fight. And he wasn’t going down lightly. But there was something to be said for cool-headed strategy in a fight with such high stakes and he moved out of his office with a non-committal, “How can I help you, Commander?”
Spock pinned him with a withering glance but his voice was calm, almost light, when he replied, “Do not play coy, Doctor. It does not suit you.”
Leonard bristled, “Fine, if you want to be straight forward, I’ll rephrase. What the fuck do you want, Spock?”
The Vulcan looked triumphant and Leonard was afraid he might have walked into a trap. Well, it was too late to back down so he waited while Spock spelled out his request.
“Dr. McCoy, I am aware of the fact that you and the captain have been involved in a relationship of a sexual nature for nearly a year, correct?”
Len burned at that. Damn, the Vulcan was good at passive aggression. He didn't yell or threaten, didn’t lie. He just took one of the most precious things in Len’s life and made it about empty sex. And just how was he supposed to respond? Argue, and sound like a petulant child, or agree and ignore everything he and Jim had shared for three years? He fucking hated Vulcans!
Len clenched a fist but managed to keep his internal struggle dampened for the moment. Lifting his chin, he calmly replied, “We’ve been in a relationship, yes.” There, nice, vaguely layered answer. The Vulcan should be jealous.
But Spock was apparently the master of aggressive aggression, too and in the throw-down for Jim Kirk, he was planning on pulling no punches. “Indeed. And you are also aware that the captain and I are engaged in a relationship of a sexual nature. I am curious regarding your thoughts on the matter.”
Oh, he wanted to hit this guy! It didn’t even matter that it would probably hurt him more than Spock. But that would be going exactly where Spock wanted him and he’d be damned if he’d let it be that easy.
“Coy doesn’t suit you either, Mr. Spock. Why don’t you just say what you mean? I’m sure that would be the most logical approach.”
A low burn appeared in the Vulcan’s eyes and Leonard knew he’d scored a point. It only threw Spock off his game for a second, though and the he took several steps towards Leonard, caging him slightly against his office door. Leonard was not in the mood to be pinned and took several steps forward himself. Definitively invading the other’s space, they starred each other down, rampant dislike rolling off of them in waves and puddling at their feet. Spock swept a careful gaze over the doctor, considering his course of action before speaking.
“Dr. McCoy, through my older counterpart, of whom I know you are aware, the captain and I have come into some intriguing knowledge regarding our relationship in my counterpart’s world. We shared a friendly relationship which evolved into a romantic attachment but in both forms, this connection allowed us to be uniquely effective in a way we could not have been as two independent beings.
In light of this knowledge, the captain and I made a mutual decision to pursue a friendship, to test our compatibility. The results, I believe have been obvious to everyone. This ship has functioned with unsurpassed efficiency, the crew has experienced a great deal of the “chemistry” you humans are so very fond of, and the captain and I have developed a friendship of sufficient depth to lead to its inevitable conclusion.
I assure you, Doctor, the captain is as aware of this as I. He is, however, burdened by a prior attachment that his counterpart did not share, a previous relationship with you. You are an observant individual, Doctor, and an intelligent one; however you may see fit to infuse your intellect with emotionalism. You are perfectly aware of how this will end.”
Leonard was momentarily rendered speechless. He hadn’t been expecting quite that much honesty. But his initial anger was dampened by a rising tide of despair because he had a sinking sensation that Spock was right. He had seen them together, seen the look on Jim’s face as he kissed those lips, the peaceful satisfaction in his eyes. Had he ever done that for him? And would it matter anyway? Jim had cheated on him. Jim had chosen someone else. What possible good could come from fighting when the battle was already lost?
But he’d be damned if he’d tell Spock that.
“So, you know this all from a mind meld?”
“Indeed.”
“But you can’t show it to me?”
“Not can’t, Doctor. But I would be unwilling.”
Len bristled. “So based on this meld, you assume that you can provide him with everything he needs. What a human needs.”
“Indeed, Doctor. Because, I will approach this relationship logically and assessingly. I will not impart my own emotional needs and explanations onto the man I love.”
The bubble of rage that had slowly built up in his chest finally exploded, “Exactly! You’d give him no emotion because you can’t! And you think that would be enough for someone like Jim Kirk? Dammit, man! Do you even know how to love?”
The reaction was not instantaneous. In fact, a solid three seconds slipped past as Len glared daggers and Spock gazed fixedly at the floor. For a brief, fleeting moment Leonard thought he might have secured a victory but that slight sense of triumph was dashed when Spock suddenly surged forward and shackled his underarms with hot, bruising hands. Len was a doctor, he was well aware of Vulcans’ superior strength but textbook knowledge didn’t compare to the intimate feeling of being lifted up, feet dangling like a small child, and carried six paces to be thrust against the bulkhead.
Leonard nearly panicked, a sense of intense vulnerability washing over him. How could he ever fight against this? The son of a bitch’s arms weren’t even shaking as he pressed him firmly against the wall. The doctor flailed, hands trying to find some purchase before finally, reluctantly, coming to settle lightly on the Vulcan’s forearms. Feeling slightly more secure, he starred down into the face of the enraged first officer.
Spock’s features were smooth and unblemished. In fact, almost his entire countenance bespoke a complete calm. If not for the slight compression of his typically full lips, he would’ve appeared totally at ease. That was, of course, until Len looked into his eyes.
They burned. There was no other word for it. And they locked onto the doctor’s, green drowning in the molten blackness. Leonard felt lost, engulfed and completely without the will to resist as he was slowly lowered and pressed into the bulkhead by the Vulcan’s hot form. The eyes didn’t blink, didn’t glance away for a moment, not when Spock forced his knee between Leonard’s thighs, pinning him bodily, not when he released one of Leonard’s arms and reached up to grasp his chin. No, they just continued to burn, to pin, to dominate and the doctor felt himself drifting, as if he were no longer in his own body. By the time he had regained enough conscious thought to panic, he had lost the physical control necessary to launch any kind of defense.
He was awash in heat, in scorching sensation. And who the hell had ever started the ridiculous bullshit that Vulcan’s didn’t have any emotions? Leonard could have laughed at the irony if it wasn’t currently pouring over him in a torrent of fire; rage, determination, frustration, even pity…….and love…..for Jim. Leonard’s breath caught in his throat, his heart rate accelerated. What the hell was going on? Spock was projecting far too much into his subdued rival and Leonard McCoy the physician began to realize the danger. Desperately, he grappled at the hot chest and shoulders pressing into him and cried, “Spock! Stop! You’re hurting me!” He stared imploringly into the angry black pools that were mere inches from his own.
The change was subtle but immediate, as if a stove burner had been turned down a few notches. Leonard felt his feet finally come to rest flat on the deck as Spock’s whirling, suffocating emotions pulled back, if not completely away. He caught his breath, trying to regain his composure, only to lose both again as Spock tightened his grip on Leonard face and pulled them practically nose to nose. Perusing the doctor with eyes that had barely cooled, he said, “Tell me, Dr. McCoy, are you or aren’t you divorced?”
Leonard tried to pull away but he was surrounded by Vulcan on every side. Glaring, he retorted, “You know that I am.” Fury rose in his chest and he sucked in breath to launch into a qualifying argument but Spock railroaded right by with his next question, “Since the divorce, how often have you seen your only child? Joanna, correct?”
It was a gut twisting inquiry, delivered in a cool, detached tone. Not that Len should’ve been surprised. He’d seen before how willing Spock was to go straight for the guts. Still, he bristled in response. “What god-damn business is this of yours?”
Spock’s eyes relaxed another few degrees and the heavy Vulcan emotions wafting all over Leonard began to take on the cool, cloying, slimy feel of disdain. “It is quite simple, Doctor. Our captain, whom you claim to love, whose mental and emotional health you say you wish to protect, has a deep seated fear of being abandoned or rejected. As his friend, doctor, and ….ahem…lover, you know this to be true, do you not?” Spock paused and quirked an eyebrow at Leonard who huffed a frustrated breath but nodded his head, “This is merely theoretical information to me, of course, but as a fellow human, you, I am sure, are aware of the deep-seated, emotional implications these types of events could have on our captain,” Again he paused but this time Leonard only glared at him murderously.
“Now, doctor, if we honestly wish to assess which of us would be the more appropriate companion for our captain, we need to look at the evidence before us. We have just established his biggest fears and now it would only be logical to examine which of us would be more likely to further abuse those fears.” Spock leaned in towards the helpless human, gently pushing his head back against the bulkhead, “I, Doctor, was raised in a solid family unit and when I left home, it was with the blessing of my parents, a reluctant blessing perhaps but there none the less. I maintain contacts with all my past instructors and acquaintances and I have managed to continue a healthy friendship with Lt. Uhura.
In contrast, you have a poor relationship with your family which you did nothing to remedy after the failure of your marriage and the death of your father. Of your own admission, you were distant and neglectful of your spouse, you missed the birth of your child, and when your wife engaged in a liason and terminated your marriage, you simply left your daughter behind.
Now, Doctor, based on the evidence, who do you believe would be the more appropriate choice for our captain? You, the man with a long, consistent history of abandoning those with whom you have relationships, or me, who has never left anyone behind?”
That was it. Someone had turned the stove burner back up and the heat and rage was pouring out of both men, intermixing, saturating them in compromised emotional upheaval. Tears sprang into Leonard’s eyes as Spock flung his most basic insecurities in his face. Who was he to argue? Weren’t all of these things true? And as for his family, well Jim didn’t even know the half of it. And that was the real clincher here, wasn’t it. These truths that Spock was wielding like scalpels were his deepest secrets, told only to Jim. How would Spock know about them unless Jim had betrayed his trust? His father? Jim had told Spock about his father?
He’d lost him. It was that simple. This betrayal was just another confirmation that Jim had chosen Spock. One lone tear escaped and slipped down as his cheek as he closed his eyes in resignation. Fine. He’d step back and let Jim go. He’d turn away, like he always did. Spock was right. The evidence was against him. His track record spoke for itself and Spock had never……..but wait.
The thought came unbidden and rose up on a wave of bubbling emotions. He was not a cruel or vindictive person but the festering wound re-opened by the mention of his father seized hold of his tongue and before he could even stop himself, he heard the words clearly, “Your mother. You left her behind in a hole on Vulcan.”
For a second, the intense heat was gone, replaced by a glacial surge of murderous intent. It lasted only a second but it froze Leonard to the core just in time for a second wave of blast furnace intensity to bombard him. Oh, he had thought he’d pissed Spock off before, had he? The hand on his chin grasped him in a chokehold, yanking him back off his feet and smashing him back into the bulkhead. Stars swam in front of his eyes and a slow building agony spread through his chest as oxygen deprivation began to set in. He grasped desperately at the hand throttling him but was unable to break the Vulcan’s stranglehold. Unconsciousness threatened but was held at bay by a hard, commanding voice which ordered, “Look at me, Doctor!”
The eyes were once again black pools of fire and Leonard found himself falling back into their depths. He felt calm and lethargic as Spock carefully lowered him back to the deck and fisted his hand in the blue medical tunic, yanking him forward until they stood face to face. The Enterprise, sickbay, his own body fell away until all there was were those eyes and a voice that said, “That mouth of yours, Doctor, has once again caused you trouble. Do you think the captain really needs that acidic tongue in his life? If you ever speak of my mother again, be assured that I will remove it from your head.
This is over, Doctor. This war of words you imagine you are waging with me has come to an end. You will not speak to me again of anything unrelated to the business of this ship. As for the captain, you know the truth. We have examined the evidence and you have been judged inferior. You are not what he needs. Perhaps for once you can run away, as you do so well, for the right reasons and leave him in peace. Because if you do not run on your own, I will feel compelled to encourage you.”
With that, the Vulcan released him and took several steps back. An odd snapping sounded in Leonard ears and he shook his head slightly to clear it of the strange, residual fog. Spock was concentrating hard on a spot on the floor and the flame in his eyes slowly sank away. The eyes that looked up at Leonard were cold, hard and unyielding and they promised that Spock’s words hadn’t been threats but guarantees. With a final, disdainful quirk of his eyebrow, Spock spun and strode out of sickbay. Len clasped his trembling hands and quickly retreated to his office and a bottle of brandy, shaken to the core.
Ten minutes later, it finally dawned on him. From the moment Spock first touched him, neither one of them had moved their lips.