[sickbay - McCoy's surgery: open]
As soon as Uhura had alerted her that the away team was beaming back, Chapel had sent a message to M'Benga, knowing that the experienced doctor would be needed. He was trying to get some much-needed rest, after a shift and a half overseeing the sickbay before Chapel took over, but it wouldn't be the first time that either of them forced themselves
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When he heard about the return of the away team, there was nothing for it but to go down there. He wasn't needed, but he couldn't admit that or let it dissuade him. He could have called. But the trip down would offer five minutes, at least, of activity. And he would see Jim, check on Bones...
Spock.
He stopped dead, his heart skipping as all at once the tumult he'd been attempting to keep at bay returned and he realized that Spock, in his own activity perhaps, had been keeping from him to degree to which Leonard's absence was affecting him. He looked drawn and pale. Perhaps not to the casual observer, but Jim never was that.
"Spock."
The words were unnecessary, he supposed. But there was a comfort to him in voices. "How are they?"
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He is alive and will stay that way. Kirk is relieved. I have not entered.
*Spock turns his face away. Jim is confused, lost feelling and Spock wants nothing more than to go to him but that would not be logical, it would only make it harder when Kirk decided the bond was too much and asked to break it.*
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Even when he felt like he was being torn up inside. So he did what he always did, masking it in a mix of relief to simply know Bones was going to make it and the mask of the Captain.
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He built more walls. It was not Spock's way to intrude. Where Kirk had felt a slight but constant hum in his mind, now there was a faint crackle of the link ruthlessly suppressed.
How long he could maintain this, Spock was unsure. But he must try, for the sake of logic.*
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...That didn't make the sudden feeling of being alone any better. He wanted to rush in there and see for himself, with his own eyes, that Bones was alive. But for the moment, he could do nothing but wait.
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Spock was hiding something.
Not a lie, Jim didn't think anything like that. He was protecting him. Or trying to. It struck Jim, suddenly, how complicated it was sharing this. In some respects it was simpler with only the evidence of the normal human senses, tuned to Spock's minute degrees of expression. The added wrinkle of seeing into him like this didn't necessarily make things clearer. One could still doubt, and prevaricate, and second-guess.
He nodded.
"I'm glad," he said softly. "I don't suppose Jim wants any company now."
He watched Spock, wanting to go to him and knowing that Spock is still Spock, still Vulcan, and they were not in the privacy of one of their quarters. He did it anyway, laying a hand on Spock's arm.
"Don't turn away from me." He let a tiny sliver of vulnerability show in his voice, though no doubt Spock could read it in his emotions. Jim had no training with this, no shields. He couldn't do what he'd just felt Spock do. Inside, he was a mass of confusion and nervous energy, suppressed longing and frustrated duty and questions about what they were and what the bond was that were only exacerbated by Spock's averted gaze, the closing of his mind. Jim understood the need for privacy, but he didn't understood how this was supposed to work. What Spock needed.
(OOC-I'm sorry about all the tense/style shifts. I'm trying to settle into something and I've been all over the place, mimicking what others' are doing when playing with them. I don't suppose it matters much but I fall into one or the other inadvertently.)
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*Spock looks back to Jim, opens his mouth to speak. And then he collapses.*
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Was it just sex? No, not just sex, it couldn't be with Spock. It never was "just sex" with Jim, either, for all his reputation might suggest otherwise. But he can't help but take this as an insult, a lack of trust.
And then Spock collapses.
Jim tries to catch him, but Spock's weight is greater than his appearance suggests and Jim manages only to cradle him to the ground. He can feel a sudden spike of Spock's weakness, his physical deterioration, and all at once he recalls that he hasn't seen Spock eat or sleep. He's not sure about himself, either.
He wants to remain there with him, his fingers smoothing the gleaming black hair, but that won't help. He leaves Spock on the floor for a moment, telling him he'll be right back and trying to project calm and support through the link, not knowing if Spock can hear or feel him.
He bursts into Sickbay. "I need help. Mr. Spock has collapsed; someone help me carry him in."
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"Put him there," she says, gesturing at a free biobed. "I'll get M'Benga."
[[OOC: I've got a class to teach, so you all might want to use M'Benga NPC-style until I get back? (and I'm doing tense shifts all over the place too, original_fine, so it's not just you at least ;))]]
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He schools himself to patience though it is not in his nature. The bond makes it even worse, his anxiety more difficult to contain and he waits for M'Benga to finish with another patient. They do not wait long, but Jim has to force his fingers to relax. He knows he cannot hurt Spock's arm by clutching it but the joints of his own hand are showing white. He glances at Jim, unsure what the kid knows, or what he's been through himself but grateful for his presence. He'll have to remember to tell him so, when he can think again.
"What wrong?" he demands of the doctor, his gaze intense and his manner equal parts captain and worried friend.
M'Benga can find nothing physically wrong with Spock apart from the lack of rest, fluids and nutrition. But Spock has pushed himself too far before, farther, without such drastic results. It makes Jim feel guilty, that he has neglected Spock when his needs should have been all the more transparent and important to him.
The doctor orders hydration and rest, for now, and promises that Mr. Spock will be closely monitored.
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