I would think of something to put here but I'm eating Burger King. nom nom nom.
“You haven’t changed that much, Doctor McCoy. Taking out your frustrations on the new recruits?”
“Changed the damn Sickbay, I knew it.” McCoy took another sip. He paused. “Jim had me drafted. Is it really that damn important I be here?”
“Maybe he missed you.”
“He could’ve come to see me, then!”
“Maybe he missed you with him, McCoy.” The CMO’s eyes snapped up to his former head nurse. She shrugged slightly. “You...left quickly after the five year mission.”
“Small wonder.” McCoy threw back the last of the alcohol.
Chapel hesitated. “You…haven’t--?”
“No.” He paused. “…once. Was really, really drunk. There was no answer. I didn’t want one.” The smiles were easier now, and he passed one to Christine as she peered at him, obviously concerned. “It’s ten years gone, Doctor Chapel. Congratulations, by the way.” He lifted his empty glass to her.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “If I could ask for a favor, McCoy?”
He eyed her warily. “…shoot,” he said after a moment.
“Shave that beard.”
.the word on the street.
News had traveled around the ship fast. Scuttlebutt usually did, but this time it was enough to inspire a man to look to gossip as a way to faster warp factor. Chapel opened the door to McCoy’s office, alarm and delight struggling for control on her face. McCoy set his padd down, ignoring the sudden stuttering in his chest. “Yes, n-doctor?”
“He’s here.”
To his credit, McCoy didn’t stand dramatically or drop the padd. He closed his eyes a fraction of a second longer than he should have, took a deep breath, and looked back up at Chapel. “Does Jim know?”
“He’s on the bridge now. Arrived about five minutes ago.”
McCoy pushed his chair back and stood. “Shall we go greet him, then?”
“Leona-”
“Christine.” McCoy put a hand on the nurse’s arm, smiling a little. “I told you before, it’s been ten years. If I’m going to be working with him again, I have to be professional.” He hesitated. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with greeting an old…friend.”
Chapel nodded. Together they wound through the crowd - after a while people nearly jumped out of their way (Chapel knew it was the look in McCoy’s eyes) - and made it to the turbolift. Chapel gripped the controls and twisted. McCoy leaned back as the lift lurched upward, trying to compose himself.
It’s been ten years. You’re different. He’s different. Well, no, he’s probably the goddamn same, stupid computer mind-
The doors slid open and Chapel took the lead, rushing out on bridge. Her old feelings resurfaced, and she was unable to keep the delighted “Mister Spock!” from bubbling up. McCoy followed on her heels, clapping his hands together in the shocked silence on the bridge.
“Well, so help me, I’m actually pleased to see you!” A grin split its way across his face without him thinking about it. There was a long silence as the Vulcan turned slowly, and McCoy realized with growing horror he’d actually meant it. Oh, son of a bi-
Spock looked much the same. Same ridiculous bowl cut (not like McCoy knew what that hair felt like under his fingers), same pointed ears (not like he knew their contours by heart), same stoic countenance (not like he knew the Vulcan’s subtle facial expressions), same stupid slim fingers oh god damn it! He kept the smile on his face as Spock’s eyes swept over him (because even now he still clung to the what if--)
Spock looked at him as if he were seeing a stranger, and McCoy could feel his grin slipping. He kept his hands together, squeezing slightly as Kirk and Chapel glanced his way. He could feel the gazes of Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov burning holes into him, but he ignored them all, meeting the Vulcan’s gaze, chin rising slightly.
Spock was the first to break the uncomfortable gaze, looking at the floor. He turned, Vulcan robes swishing, making for the door, and nearly collided with Uhura. “It’s how we all feel, Mister Spock,” she said (trying to save his ass? Or maybe she genuinely felt that way. He didn’t know).
“Captain.” Spock’s voice had a slightly different timbre to it, probably because he hadn’t spoken much in those ten years on Vulcan doing God-Knew-What. Still, it was familiar enough for McCoy to carefully compose his face. “With your permission I will now discuss these fuel equations with the Engineer.”
Kirk nodded mutely, and Spock turned for the turbolift. “Mister Spock.” The Vulcan paused, and McCoy watched Kirk fumble for something. “…welcome aboard.”
Spock was still for a moment, then continued into the lift, doors sliding closed behind him. Jim and Leonard glanced at each other. The CMO decided he was going to get hammered.
.the fire in your heart is out.
“Who’s been holdin’ up the damn elevator?”
Lieutenant Saavik brushed past Kirk with a “thank you, sir,” allowing McCoy to step in, looking after the female Vulcan. “She change her hairstyle?”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Kirk muttered as the doors slid shut. McCoy smirked to himself. Obviously someone had gotten shot down.
“Wonderful stuff, that Romulan Ale,” Bones replied dryly. Lord knows I’ve used it enough in the past ten years. Uhura’s voice came over the comm, addressing Kirk, and McCoy let his mind wander. He and Spock were finally on speaking terms again; after half a year of awkward pleasantries, the two had finally broken out in an argument on the bridge during a session of the Kobayashi Maru. They didn’t spend prolonged time together, much less alone, but it was a start. They were even bickering again.
McCoy chuckled to himself. Sad thing it is when you consider fighting a good sign. He caught the tail end of Uhura’s sentence: “Doctor Carol Marcus.” He watched Kirk’s stance stiffen a little. It’s just one of those days for all of us, he thought as Kirk stared blankly at the wall.
“I’ll take it in my quarters, Uhura,” he responded finally, releasing the comm button.
“It never rains, but it pours,” Leonard observed wryly, his lips quirking upward. Jim’s head snapped around.
“As a physician, you of all people should appreciate the dangers of reopening old wounds.” The admiral’s voice was dangerous and biting. McCoy watched his friend go, murmuring a “sorry” right before the lift’s doors slid shut. It really didn’t help that the next person to step into the turbolift was the Vulcan himself.
“Doctor.” Spock tilted his head in a polite greeting. McCoy shuffled.
“Um. Hi Spock.”
Silence.
“Where are you off to?” the doctor finally blurted. The look he received he’d seen used many a time on a new ensign. Leonard drew himself up, scowling.
“My quarters.”
“Ah. Um. Me too.”
“That was a logical assumption, considering Sickbay was five floors up.”
McCoy faltered. “Right.”
“Are you preoccupied, Doctor?”
McCoy nodded before he could stop himself. Damn it! He mentally scrambled for a safe topic to latch on to. “Jim,” he said finally, trying to prevent his cheeks from burning. “I’m worried about Jim.”
“The admiral seems to be in good health.”
“You know what I mean, Spock.” McCoy folded his arms. This was the longest conversation they’d had in ten years. “He’s tired of all of this.” McCoy flapped a hand around them. “All the bureaucratic nonsense. He misses the five year mission, and I-” do…too? Shit. For obvious reasons. Damn it, Leonard, damn it!
“Yes?”
“…I…think…Jim shouldn’t have accepted his promotion,” McCoy finished hastily. “He’s unhappy with this. He just wants to captain the Enterprise again.”
Spock pursed his lips and nodded. “A most astute observation. I agree.”
“…well…are you going to say something?”
“Why would I?” Spock’s eyebrow slid up, and the CMO folded his arms again and took a breath to study himself.
“Because he’s your friend as well as mine? I’ve already tried. Maybe hearing it from both of us will make him think.”
“Hmm.” Spock tilted his head to the left, looking (pointedly?) at the wall. “I will consider it.”
The doors to the turbolift slid open. “Well, this is my stop.” McCoy walked quickly, not stopping until he was safely behind his door, where he leaned against it and sighed. Reopening old wounds. No kidding.
.what you gotta do.
McCoy stubbornly planted himself between Spock and the reactor room. “Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!” he hissed. “No human can tolerate the radiation that’s in there!”
“But, as you are so fond of observing, Doctor, I am not human.”
McCoy grabbed his shoulder, moving so close he could feel the Vulcan’s controlled breaths on his face. “You’re not going in there,” he growled. You aren’t leaving me again. If anything, I’ll be the one to-Jim needs you more than he does me. You are not doing this again, you pointy-eared son of a bitch.
“…perhaps you’re right,” Spock acquiesced after a moment. He looked to the engineer slumped a few feet from them. “What is Mister Scott’s condition?”
Relieved, McCoy decided to make the most of his few minutes left as a doctor. He started towards his other friend. “Well, I don’t think that he-”
There was a sharp sensation in the base of his neck; it hadn’t happened in so long it took his brain a moment to remember exactly what a Vulcan Nerve Pinch felt like. No. McCoy realized what Spock had been doing, and his mind furiously rebelled as his knees crumpled. He fought to stay awake as Spock spoke. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I have no time to discuss this…logically.” He tried to move his lips, wind building up the name on his tongue, but he could only manage a faint wheeze as his world went black. The last thing he registered were those slim fingers on his face, and later, he would never be able to rid himself of that feeling.
When he woke up, he wondered why he felt such inexplicable sorrow. The answer came, he supposed, two seconds later, as he saw Spock crumpling and Scott pounding against the glass, screaming at him to get out. The moments before his blackout rushed back, and McCoy scrambled for the glass, pushing Scott out of the way. “Spock!” You’re…you’re half human…
Spock ignored them both, but McCoy persisted, pounding against the glass. “Get out of there!” He moved for the door, furiously trying to push Scotty away. “You-you!”
“Doctor, you cannae!” Scotty roared in his ear.
McCoy shoved at him harder. “Scott!” The engineer’s eyes were full of sorrow.
“I’m sorry, McCoy. He wouldn’ want me t’let yeh in.”
Leonard struggled, less this time, turning away as light blasted from the radiation chamber and Spock reached his hand in…
When the spots cleared from his eyes, Spock was huddled in a corner, looking so small and pained, and McCoy crumpled to his knees, pressing his hand against the glass again. “Spock.” When the Vulcan didn’t hear him, he slammed his fist against the transparent surface. “Spock!”
The Vulcan shook his head slowly, refusing to turn around. McCoy wasn’t even sure what to feel; there was no way this could be happening. Spock was always supposed to be there, things were going better, it-they-if…
Leonard opened his mouth to say…something, anything at all, when Kirk’s voice ran from the intercom. “…Engine Room. Well done.” A pause. “Scotty?”
The engineer had watched in quiet shock as McCoy straightened, stood, and made his way to the comm. “Jim,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat, refusing to let his eyes burn, “I think you’d better get down here.”
“…Bones?”
“Better hurry.” McCoy snapped the comm off and turned away.
It felt like forever for Jim to slide down the ladder and realize what had happened, but McCoy was there, holding his best friend back as he struggled to get to the reactor room. “No, you’ll flood the whole compartment!”
“He’ll die!” Kirk shouted in his face. McCoy’s jaw tightened.
“Sir!” Scotty tugged on the admiral’s arm. “…he’s dead already.”
“It’s…it’s too late, Jim,” McCoy added quietly, letting Kirk go as he staggered forward. Spock’s last words were to Kirk…and not him. McCoy didn’t know if it was appropriate or the cruelest joke the universe could have played on him, but either way, it didn’t matter. Spock slumped against the glass, lifeless, and something in Leonard’s soul gave.
.what you’re not to do.
It was just another funeral, really. There was nothing special.
except it was Spock in that casket
Kirk was speaking, but McCoy didn’t hear a damn thing. He stood next to Jim, at the head of the precession, numbly registering all eyes on him and his captain. McCoy, however, was focused only on the black casket in front of him. It seemed so…small. It was a stupid little black box, and Spock was in there.
Spock.
The Vulcan.
The hobgoblin.
The green-blooded, pointed eared computer.
His need for logic.
His disdain for emotion.
The way he tilted his head.
How his eyebrow lifted.
Fingers pressed together.
Lips pursed thoughtfully.
Fingers split, showing him the Vulcan salute that’s more painful than the shirt
striding toward the shuttle (wish me luck, good luck spock, tell doctor mccoy he should have…)
clashing of swords and spock moved so easily, dispatching his opponent do you require assistance doctor of all the stupid illogical trying to thank really doctor i know why you’re not afraid of dying like any sane person should have been god damn it
i told the captain of your report and and he was displeased at your recommendation, but has reported to the planet for shore leave well thanks i guess
freezing god damn it but spock your ears we’ll go together or not at all (fingers pressed together leaning over) in a warm cave hand leg nonsense my life is back there and I want it back
illogical
best first officer in the fleet and i ruined it fuck my career just destroyed a life and spock im sorry doctor why are you upset ahm not y’stupid hobgoblin an’ can yellaseeme
fascinating
There was so much more than anyone could have said, and when the word “human” left Jim’s mouth McCoy just wanted to punch him. Spock wasn’t human, and he wasn’t fucking Vulcan either, he was just Spock and not lying in that casket he couldn’t be couldn’t be couldn’t be not Spock he was supposed to be here
If only I’d gone in instead. McCoy’s eyes watched the little black box, his little black box with his greatest not-secret (his best thing his worst feelings the last of what he’d been able to pour out sealed in that fucking casket) drift away from him. There were bagpipes in the background but McCoy’s thought process, which was jumbled a minute ago, ran rampant and clear. If I’d just gone into the chamber faster it would be me in that casket instead and things would be better, I’m sure. Spock this is all my fault I’m sorry no it’s not doctor I didn’t even get to say
And he was gone.
.i don’t believe.
“He’s really not dead. As long as we remember him.”
That’s what idiots in denial say all the time, Leonard. Stop fooling yourself. You need to start grieving…soon.
…looks like more Romulan Ale.
So he smiled that fake smile for Jim and pretended he wasn’t breaking inside.
.anybody feels the way i do.
So illogical.
Do not grieve.
And McCoy put an arm around Chapel as she sobbed.
.maybe.
He’d spent the last month in and out of a haze of alcohol. He wasn’t always drunk; Chapel wouldn’t allow it. Doesn’t matter how many livers you can grow with a pill, she’d said, you need to behave like Mister Spock would want you to. Still, he had a couple drinks every day. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was around someone, even if it was sitting while Jim grieved in the admiral’s quarters.
McCoy didn’t want to be by himself, didn’t want to give himself the time to lie there and think about how he was really alone. There would be no more “what ifs” and “maybes” in his mind anymore. Spock was dead, and there were so many things left unsaid and undone, and now they’d stay that way. He took the same pills he’d prescribed to Kirk to sleep, but it was only enough to keep his body functioning.
It wasn’t healthy, he knew, but denial never was. He’d watched Chekov section off Spock’s quarters, shaking his head no when the commander asked if he’d wanted anything. What was the point? It’s not like he and Spock had anything when he died.
“Yis but…” Chekov hesitated. “Eef I may speak freely, sir?”
“Go ahead, son.”
“Zere was not someting when he died, no. But…on ze meesion…” Chekov shook his head. “I’m sorry. Eet ees not my place.”
“…it’s fine,” McCoy responded gruffly. He’d pushed off the wall and left shortly afterwards, leaving a saddened commander to punch in the override code.
Just as he knew it wasn’t healthy, he also knew that at some point, something had to break. He didn’t expect it to be so close to Earth (where he could tell Starfleet to shove it and head back to sunny Georgia - who the hell was he kidding, he’d stay with Jim as long as the man needed him). He’d stopped by his quarters to grab his communicator and found himself leaning against the wall, his head in his hands.
God damn it, Spock. Why-why did you…
The next thing he knew, he was in Spock’s quarters, with Kirk kneeling over him, looking worried out of his mind.
On a much less depressing note, here:
Oh Ten. <3
anyone want to guess what song I'm taking these little tidbits from?
I hate the original version, but I love the cover I have of the song.
“Changed the damn Sickbay, I knew it.” McCoy took another sip. He paused. “Jim had me drafted. Is it really that damn important I be here?”
“Maybe he missed you.”
“He could’ve come to see me, then!”
“Maybe he missed you with him, McCoy.” The CMO’s eyes snapped up to his former head nurse. She shrugged slightly. “You...left quickly after the five year mission.”
“Small wonder.” McCoy threw back the last of the alcohol.
Chapel hesitated. “You…haven’t--?”
“No.” He paused. “…once. Was really, really drunk. There was no answer. I didn’t want one.” The smiles were easier now, and he passed one to Christine as she peered at him, obviously concerned. “It’s ten years gone, Doctor Chapel. Congratulations, by the way.” He lifted his empty glass to her.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “If I could ask for a favor, McCoy?”
He eyed her warily. “…shoot,” he said after a moment.
“Shave that beard.”
.the word on the street.
News had traveled around the ship fast. Scuttlebutt usually did, but this time it was enough to inspire a man to look to gossip as a way to faster warp factor. Chapel opened the door to McCoy’s office, alarm and delight struggling for control on her face. McCoy set his padd down, ignoring the sudden stuttering in his chest. “Yes, n-doctor?”
“He’s here.”
To his credit, McCoy didn’t stand dramatically or drop the padd. He closed his eyes a fraction of a second longer than he should have, took a deep breath, and looked back up at Chapel. “Does Jim know?”
“He’s on the bridge now. Arrived about five minutes ago.”
McCoy pushed his chair back and stood. “Shall we go greet him, then?”
“Leona-”
“Christine.” McCoy put a hand on the nurse’s arm, smiling a little. “I told you before, it’s been ten years. If I’m going to be working with him again, I have to be professional.” He hesitated. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with greeting an old…friend.”
Chapel nodded. Together they wound through the crowd - after a while people nearly jumped out of their way (Chapel knew it was the look in McCoy’s eyes) - and made it to the turbolift. Chapel gripped the controls and twisted. McCoy leaned back as the lift lurched upward, trying to compose himself.
It’s been ten years. You’re different. He’s different. Well, no, he’s probably the goddamn same, stupid computer mind-
The doors slid open and Chapel took the lead, rushing out on bridge. Her old feelings resurfaced, and she was unable to keep the delighted “Mister Spock!” from bubbling up. McCoy followed on her heels, clapping his hands together in the shocked silence on the bridge.
“Well, so help me, I’m actually pleased to see you!” A grin split its way across his face without him thinking about it. There was a long silence as the Vulcan turned slowly, and McCoy realized with growing horror he’d actually meant it. Oh, son of a bi-
Spock looked much the same. Same ridiculous bowl cut (not like McCoy knew what that hair felt like under his fingers), same pointed ears (not like he knew their contours by heart), same stoic countenance (not like he knew the Vulcan’s subtle facial expressions), same stupid slim fingers oh god damn it! He kept the smile on his face as Spock’s eyes swept over him (because even now he still clung to the what if--)
Spock looked at him as if he were seeing a stranger, and McCoy could feel his grin slipping. He kept his hands together, squeezing slightly as Kirk and Chapel glanced his way. He could feel the gazes of Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov burning holes into him, but he ignored them all, meeting the Vulcan’s gaze, chin rising slightly.
Spock was the first to break the uncomfortable gaze, looking at the floor. He turned, Vulcan robes swishing, making for the door, and nearly collided with Uhura. “It’s how we all feel, Mister Spock,” she said (trying to save his ass? Or maybe she genuinely felt that way. He didn’t know).
“Captain.” Spock’s voice had a slightly different timbre to it, probably because he hadn’t spoken much in those ten years on Vulcan doing God-Knew-What. Still, it was familiar enough for McCoy to carefully compose his face. “With your permission I will now discuss these fuel equations with the Engineer.”
Kirk nodded mutely, and Spock turned for the turbolift. “Mister Spock.” The Vulcan paused, and McCoy watched Kirk fumble for something. “…welcome aboard.”
Spock was still for a moment, then continued into the lift, doors sliding closed behind him. Jim and Leonard glanced at each other. The CMO decided he was going to get hammered.
.the fire in your heart is out.
“Who’s been holdin’ up the damn elevator?”
Lieutenant Saavik brushed past Kirk with a “thank you, sir,” allowing McCoy to step in, looking after the female Vulcan. “She change her hairstyle?”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Kirk muttered as the doors slid shut. McCoy smirked to himself. Obviously someone had gotten shot down.
“Wonderful stuff, that Romulan Ale,” Bones replied dryly. Lord knows I’ve used it enough in the past ten years. Uhura’s voice came over the comm, addressing Kirk, and McCoy let his mind wander. He and Spock were finally on speaking terms again; after half a year of awkward pleasantries, the two had finally broken out in an argument on the bridge during a session of the Kobayashi Maru. They didn’t spend prolonged time together, much less alone, but it was a start. They were even bickering again.
McCoy chuckled to himself. Sad thing it is when you consider fighting a good sign. He caught the tail end of Uhura’s sentence: “Doctor Carol Marcus.” He watched Kirk’s stance stiffen a little. It’s just one of those days for all of us, he thought as Kirk stared blankly at the wall.
“I’ll take it in my quarters, Uhura,” he responded finally, releasing the comm button.
“It never rains, but it pours,” Leonard observed wryly, his lips quirking upward. Jim’s head snapped around.
“As a physician, you of all people should appreciate the dangers of reopening old wounds.” The admiral’s voice was dangerous and biting. McCoy watched his friend go, murmuring a “sorry” right before the lift’s doors slid shut. It really didn’t help that the next person to step into the turbolift was the Vulcan himself.
“Doctor.” Spock tilted his head in a polite greeting. McCoy shuffled.
“Um. Hi Spock.”
Silence.
“Where are you off to?” the doctor finally blurted. The look he received he’d seen used many a time on a new ensign. Leonard drew himself up, scowling.
“My quarters.”
“Ah. Um. Me too.”
“That was a logical assumption, considering Sickbay was five floors up.”
McCoy faltered. “Right.”
“Are you preoccupied, Doctor?”
McCoy nodded before he could stop himself. Damn it! He mentally scrambled for a safe topic to latch on to. “Jim,” he said finally, trying to prevent his cheeks from burning. “I’m worried about Jim.”
“The admiral seems to be in good health.”
“You know what I mean, Spock.” McCoy folded his arms. This was the longest conversation they’d had in ten years. “He’s tired of all of this.” McCoy flapped a hand around them. “All the bureaucratic nonsense. He misses the five year mission, and I-” do…too? Shit. For obvious reasons. Damn it, Leonard, damn it!
“Yes?”
“…I…think…Jim shouldn’t have accepted his promotion,” McCoy finished hastily. “He’s unhappy with this. He just wants to captain the Enterprise again.”
Spock pursed his lips and nodded. “A most astute observation. I agree.”
“…well…are you going to say something?”
“Why would I?” Spock’s eyebrow slid up, and the CMO folded his arms again and took a breath to study himself.
“Because he’s your friend as well as mine? I’ve already tried. Maybe hearing it from both of us will make him think.”
“Hmm.” Spock tilted his head to the left, looking (pointedly?) at the wall. “I will consider it.”
The doors to the turbolift slid open. “Well, this is my stop.” McCoy walked quickly, not stopping until he was safely behind his door, where he leaned against it and sighed. Reopening old wounds. No kidding.
.what you gotta do.
McCoy stubbornly planted himself between Spock and the reactor room. “Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!” he hissed. “No human can tolerate the radiation that’s in there!”
“But, as you are so fond of observing, Doctor, I am not human.”
McCoy grabbed his shoulder, moving so close he could feel the Vulcan’s controlled breaths on his face. “You’re not going in there,” he growled. You aren’t leaving me again. If anything, I’ll be the one to-Jim needs you more than he does me. You are not doing this again, you pointy-eared son of a bitch.
“…perhaps you’re right,” Spock acquiesced after a moment. He looked to the engineer slumped a few feet from them. “What is Mister Scott’s condition?”
Relieved, McCoy decided to make the most of his few minutes left as a doctor. He started towards his other friend. “Well, I don’t think that he-”
There was a sharp sensation in the base of his neck; it hadn’t happened in so long it took his brain a moment to remember exactly what a Vulcan Nerve Pinch felt like. No. McCoy realized what Spock had been doing, and his mind furiously rebelled as his knees crumpled. He fought to stay awake as Spock spoke. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I have no time to discuss this…logically.” He tried to move his lips, wind building up the name on his tongue, but he could only manage a faint wheeze as his world went black. The last thing he registered were those slim fingers on his face, and later, he would never be able to rid himself of that feeling.
When he woke up, he wondered why he felt such inexplicable sorrow. The answer came, he supposed, two seconds later, as he saw Spock crumpling and Scott pounding against the glass, screaming at him to get out. The moments before his blackout rushed back, and McCoy scrambled for the glass, pushing Scott out of the way. “Spock!” You’re…you’re half human…
Spock ignored them both, but McCoy persisted, pounding against the glass. “Get out of there!” He moved for the door, furiously trying to push Scotty away. “You-you!”
“Doctor, you cannae!” Scotty roared in his ear.
McCoy shoved at him harder. “Scott!” The engineer’s eyes were full of sorrow.
“I’m sorry, McCoy. He wouldn’ want me t’let yeh in.”
Leonard struggled, less this time, turning away as light blasted from the radiation chamber and Spock reached his hand in…
When the spots cleared from his eyes, Spock was huddled in a corner, looking so small and pained, and McCoy crumpled to his knees, pressing his hand against the glass again. “Spock.” When the Vulcan didn’t hear him, he slammed his fist against the transparent surface. “Spock!”
The Vulcan shook his head slowly, refusing to turn around. McCoy wasn’t even sure what to feel; there was no way this could be happening. Spock was always supposed to be there, things were going better, it-they-if…
Leonard opened his mouth to say…something, anything at all, when Kirk’s voice ran from the intercom. “…Engine Room. Well done.” A pause. “Scotty?”
The engineer had watched in quiet shock as McCoy straightened, stood, and made his way to the comm. “Jim,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat, refusing to let his eyes burn, “I think you’d better get down here.”
“…Bones?”
“Better hurry.” McCoy snapped the comm off and turned away.
It felt like forever for Jim to slide down the ladder and realize what had happened, but McCoy was there, holding his best friend back as he struggled to get to the reactor room. “No, you’ll flood the whole compartment!”
“He’ll die!” Kirk shouted in his face. McCoy’s jaw tightened.
“Sir!” Scotty tugged on the admiral’s arm. “…he’s dead already.”
“It’s…it’s too late, Jim,” McCoy added quietly, letting Kirk go as he staggered forward. Spock’s last words were to Kirk…and not him. McCoy didn’t know if it was appropriate or the cruelest joke the universe could have played on him, but either way, it didn’t matter. Spock slumped against the glass, lifeless, and something in Leonard’s soul gave.
.what you’re not to do.
It was just another funeral, really. There was nothing special.
except it was Spock in that casket
Kirk was speaking, but McCoy didn’t hear a damn thing. He stood next to Jim, at the head of the precession, numbly registering all eyes on him and his captain. McCoy, however, was focused only on the black casket in front of him. It seemed so…small. It was a stupid little black box, and Spock was in there.
Spock.
The Vulcan.
The hobgoblin.
The green-blooded, pointed eared computer.
His need for logic.
His disdain for emotion.
The way he tilted his head.
How his eyebrow lifted.
Fingers pressed together.
Lips pursed thoughtfully.
Fingers split, showing him the Vulcan salute that’s more painful than the shirt
striding toward the shuttle (wish me luck, good luck spock, tell doctor mccoy he should have…)
clashing of swords and spock moved so easily, dispatching his opponent do you require assistance doctor of all the stupid illogical trying to thank really doctor i know why you’re not afraid of dying like any sane person should have been god damn it
i told the captain of your report and and he was displeased at your recommendation, but has reported to the planet for shore leave well thanks i guess
freezing god damn it but spock your ears we’ll go together or not at all (fingers pressed together leaning over) in a warm cave hand leg nonsense my life is back there and I want it back
illogical
best first officer in the fleet and i ruined it fuck my career just destroyed a life and spock im sorry doctor why are you upset ahm not y’stupid hobgoblin an’ can yellaseeme
fascinating
There was so much more than anyone could have said, and when the word “human” left Jim’s mouth McCoy just wanted to punch him. Spock wasn’t human, and he wasn’t fucking Vulcan either, he was just Spock and not lying in that casket he couldn’t be couldn’t be couldn’t be not Spock he was supposed to be here
If only I’d gone in instead. McCoy’s eyes watched the little black box, his little black box with his greatest not-secret (his best thing his worst feelings the last of what he’d been able to pour out sealed in that fucking casket) drift away from him. There were bagpipes in the background but McCoy’s thought process, which was jumbled a minute ago, ran rampant and clear. If I’d just gone into the chamber faster it would be me in that casket instead and things would be better, I’m sure. Spock this is all my fault I’m sorry no it’s not doctor I didn’t even get to say
And he was gone.
.i don’t believe.
“He’s really not dead. As long as we remember him.”
That’s what idiots in denial say all the time, Leonard. Stop fooling yourself. You need to start grieving…soon.
…looks like more Romulan Ale.
So he smiled that fake smile for Jim and pretended he wasn’t breaking inside.
.anybody feels the way i do.
So illogical.
Do not grieve.
And McCoy put an arm around Chapel as she sobbed.
.maybe.
He’d spent the last month in and out of a haze of alcohol. He wasn’t always drunk; Chapel wouldn’t allow it. Doesn’t matter how many livers you can grow with a pill, she’d said, you need to behave like Mister Spock would want you to. Still, he had a couple drinks every day. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was around someone, even if it was sitting while Jim grieved in the admiral’s quarters.
McCoy didn’t want to be by himself, didn’t want to give himself the time to lie there and think about how he was really alone. There would be no more “what ifs” and “maybes” in his mind anymore. Spock was dead, and there were so many things left unsaid and undone, and now they’d stay that way. He took the same pills he’d prescribed to Kirk to sleep, but it was only enough to keep his body functioning.
It wasn’t healthy, he knew, but denial never was. He’d watched Chekov section off Spock’s quarters, shaking his head no when the commander asked if he’d wanted anything. What was the point? It’s not like he and Spock had anything when he died.
“Yis but…” Chekov hesitated. “Eef I may speak freely, sir?”
“Go ahead, son.”
“Zere was not someting when he died, no. But…on ze meesion…” Chekov shook his head. “I’m sorry. Eet ees not my place.”
“…it’s fine,” McCoy responded gruffly. He’d pushed off the wall and left shortly afterwards, leaving a saddened commander to punch in the override code.
Just as he knew it wasn’t healthy, he also knew that at some point, something had to break. He didn’t expect it to be so close to Earth (where he could tell Starfleet to shove it and head back to sunny Georgia - who the hell was he kidding, he’d stay with Jim as long as the man needed him). He’d stopped by his quarters to grab his communicator and found himself leaning against the wall, his head in his hands.
God damn it, Spock. Why-why did you…
The next thing he knew, he was in Spock’s quarters, with Kirk kneeling over him, looking worried out of his mind.
On a much less depressing note, here:
Click to viewOh Ten. <3
anyone want to guess what song I'm taking these little tidbits from?
I hate the original version, but I love the cover I have of the song.