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All Of it

Leonard McCoy saw it; that moment; that veiled but unveiled moment in Spock’s eyes; the sensations from ‘seeing’ that feeling, from across the room, from Spock; it felt like a heavy orb of gold, or silver, stuck in the back of his throat; the perfect humanoid teardrop shape. McCoy’s heart and stomach were the proverbial lead. Was this because he and Spock had shared souls? That was quite literally the best label he could put upon that Mission. Was it because Spock was his dear friend, and seeing him struggle like that, it cut this human, standing here, as unguardedly as Spock was laying, over there, injured? Or, was McCoy jealous? Well, envious? Of whom? Both? “Jim, let me check on him again, will ya?” McCoy walked over.

Jim was kneeling on the tight walkway between the bench seats at the back of the runabout. He was touching Spock’s forearm, and Spock did not look as though he even wanted to ask Jim to remove his caressing hand. Of course, he didn’t. McCoy had seen his eyes, moments ago; trying to stare into Jim’s soul, not with his telepathy, but with the love he felt.

Jim stood, and sat back on the opposite bench, while McCoy was the one now, to kneel by Spock’s side. “Is it safe for him to put himself into one of those healing comas he can bring on? Jim asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

McCoy, now, looked as deep as he could into Spock’s eyes.

“It is a risk, isn’t it, Doctor?” Spock managed to ask for confirmation.

“Yes.” McCoy answered, as calmly as he could.

“How much longer before we get home, Sulu?” Jim asked, managing to keep the shaking from his voice.

“My best estimate is fourteen Earth standard minutes, Captain.” Sulu called over his shoulder, from his pressure seat at the helm.

Jim ran one of his hands through the side of his hair. He then knelt again. This time, by the place on the bench where Spock lay his head. McCoy was still at his side; giving him another hypospray, designed to try and keep him alive.

Jim began to almost stroke Spock’s hair, to touch him very gently.

At, the same time, McCoy was touching the area around Spock’s heart; near the verdant gash on his body.

It was like a circuit complete.

In his mind, McCoy was willing Spock to live. “Live! Dammit! Live! You have so much to live for. I’m promising that now!”

And, Jim was there, too. Their minds were joined. His and Spock’s, His and McCoy’s; Spock’s to McCoy’s mind as well as Jim’s. “Yes! Listen to us! Please, hang on to life! We’ll make it better; Bones and I promise we’ll sort all this out; everything! We will, I swear. I hear you now. I can’t take this any more either. You’re not alone! You have so very much to live for!”

“Stay with us!” McCoy kept adding, like a mantra.


McCoy stood so close to the biobed, that the front of his legs touched it. He clasped the Med-Padd correlating to Spock’s biobed in his hands, and looked from Spock, over at Jim, who sat at Spock’s bedside, opposite McCoy, holding Spock’s hands in his. McCoy was in the midst of writing down some of Spock’s readouts, when the Vulcan gradually awoke.

Spock looked up to McCoy, standing over him, and across to Jim. Then, back, again.

“I had to let M’Benga do the op, Spock – but, considering his time on Vulcan, that’s probably for the best anyway…” McCoy wasn’t in the mood to play games with his words. He sat on a seat at the head of Spock’s bed, and brought it level with Jim’s opposite. “May I?” He asked, wanting to hold Spock’s hands.

Spock nodded.

“Are we being too much for you?” Kirk gingerly asked.

“No.” Spock replied; holding back his tears.

“We mean it.” Leonard noted. “What we said about figuring out all those bits of the puzzle we’ve all been worrying about.”

“Yes, I believe we will.” Spock said quietly, looking at his would-be/going-to-be lovers, and then, to the privacy curtain around his biobed.

Jim and Bones, joined, and independently, because they knew each other and they knew Spock; grinned.

McCoy very carefully thumbed Spock’s knuckles, and then, placed his fingers, with which he knew how to form the O’zhesta, on the back of Spock’s palm.

Jim, seated on Spock’s other side, did the same with the hand of Spock’s that he could reach. Gently, very surreptitiously.

Eventually, Spock slipped his hands over McCoy’s and Jim’s; kissing them both with the O’zhesta, he ‘whispered’ "T’hy’la" to them, and dared to grip their hands, as a tear fell, one each, from both of his eyes. He looked at them both, but his Vulcan sensibilities also made him look up at Sickbay’s ceiling; trying to manage his emotions; his relief, his fear for them all, his love, their love – All of it.

The End? 25.2.17

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