A/N: Alright, I wrote Spock's realization of the Triangle of Power, and I have sort of written Jim's. But Bones doesn't have a story of his own. Yet. So, here it is. Based off of the episode The Tholian Web, this is written in first person from McCoy's POV regarding how he learns to deal with the triangular friendship the three share. Not slash. Part of the Triangle of Power series. No previous knowledge of the fics is necessary, however this humble author would appreciate it if you would read and review all of the fics. I do not own Star Trek, only the stories I have written.
Another Kind of Web
"Energize." I watched in silence as the transporter system failed, leaving Jim trapped on the Defiant. Spock was as upset as I had ever seen him, well since his hormones had settled after the pon farr anyways, and was swiftly adjusting the knobs to try to get the transporter fixed. In silence I looked out the window as Chekov brought to our attention the lack of the Defiant's existence. And in silence I met Spock's eyes, trying to read what was going on in those dark eyes. I backed out of the transporter room, knowing I was unable to handle the Vulcan while I was reeling myself. What I needed was a good brandy.
Two glasses of brandy and I was finally feeling numb enough to deal with Spock. Even as I swayed slightly in response to the turbolift's movements, I felt steadier. Liquid courage will give you courage and strength that is false, but even false strength I would take right now. The doors opened and I stepped out, fully intending to look after Spock. Instead I found myself rushing onto the bridge to restrain Chekov. Spock was futilely trying to communicate with him, and in the end dropped him with a nerve pinch. I went into doctor mode immediately, forgetting for the moment to be worried about Spock.
I was talking to Spock quietly now, hoping that the rest of the crew wouldn't panic. "Spock…" I hesitated then, aware I was about to stir the pot. "Are you sure that Jim is still alive?" I saw the briefest flash of anger in those dark eyes before he regained his full composure. I crammed any doubts that I had down into the recesses of my brain then, understanding that Spock would try everything he could to bring Jim back. Jim was… important to Spock, more so than I was to Jim. I shrugged a shoulder and went to sickbay to try to figure out what was going on.
I was attacked by my own orderly! I was NOT about to stand for this. After an unsatisfying argument over the communicator, I barged onto the bridge, fully ready to state my opinion. Alright, I may have stopped to have another brandy first.
I couldn't stand the way that Spock was running this ship, and certainly not the way he ran the funeral. I stood now in Jim's quarters, toe to toe with Spock, yelling at him. I don't remember what I said, it's not important. Even as he popped the data disc into the viewer, I wanted to backtrack, to apologize. I opened my mouth, but the sight of Jim Kirk on the monitor stopped me. I couldn't speak, my eyes were glued to the screen, observing every last moment of Jim's tape.
"But you will find that he is deserving of the same loyalty and confidence that each of you has given me. Take care." The final words I would ever hear in Jim Kirk's voice. I stared at the blank screen, struggling with what that pointy-eared hobgoblin would call an overwhelming display of irrelevant emotionalism. It didn't matter now what we had been arguing about. It didn't matter now that we had fought like cats and dogs. Jim Kirk, my best friend, was gone. And his last missive to me was to help Spock. Well, that I could do.
"Spock… I, uh. I'm sorry. It does hurt, doesn't it?" I wanted badly to lay a hand on his shoulder, but I knew he would pull away. Even my words caused him to stiffen. Oh yes, even in his death Jim Kirk has solidified what was a shaky truce between Spock and I. I suppose we could be friends. Maybe with this we could put aside our differences. He may not be Jim Kirk, and thank god for that, but he was dependable, and he was loyal to a fault to Jim. Had been. Damn, when was I going to get a handle on this?
"What would you have me say, Doctor?" His voice was rough, and the tension in his body told me very well what he was feeling and struggling with. The communicator beeping stopped what could have been either the most awkward conversation of my life, and that includes when I divorced my wife, or the final brick that would have cemented a new friendship. Well, no matter. We were in it together now. With our objectives in mind, we left Jim's quarters, Spock to the bridge and me to Sickbay. Even as I left the turbolift, I felt shaken. Maybe this interphase space was beginning to affect me too, imagining Spock and I as close friends.
Well, it looks like it wasn't the imagination. I was definitely losing my mind. Yelling at Spock on the bridge, being called Bones by him, this was all very strange. Nothing as strange as the sight of Captain Kirk floating on the bridge though. Although I was being held up, I was having a hard time not falling over with shock. The sight of Spock, the anguish in his voice when he said "Captain" and tried to touch Jim… now that was definitely new. I knew that Jim was the most important person to Spock, definitely more important than that stiff collared Vulcan that served as his father, but to see Spock like this… it changed something in the way I viewed the Vulcan. I have questioned his loyalty, called him a computer. But this pain… oh yes, this was definitely stripping away the Vulcan to reveal the man. A man that I would be honored to call a friend.
I injected Chekov with the latest attempt at an antidote then smiled in relief. "Nurse Chapel, mix me up a batch of this with Saurian Brandy!" Okay, maybe I was a little too excited. But I had done it, I had cured the madness that came with the interphase space. I took the tray that Nurse Chapel handed me and headed off to Spock's quarters to give him the good news. Scotty commandeered my tray and left me alone in Spock's quarters with Spock. I looked at him, really looked at him. He was more at peace now, having seen Jim alive. Well, I knew that feeling well. And shockingly enough, the friendship that I thought was part of the space madness was real enough. I could see it in his eyes as he sipped the antidote mixture. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all, this idea of friendship between us.
Nothing could have prepared me for seeing Jim again. It was equal to the feeling Spock must have had when he saw Jim after the pon farr incident. Jim collapsed, but I was ready. Anything for my best friend. I injected him with a triox compound and stared into those hazel eyes I had been sure I would never see again. This must be what it feels like to be caught in a web, this feeling of being unable to escape. Even as the doors to the transporter room opened and Spock came into the room, I was unable to shake the feeling. Jim and Spock clasped shoulders, and the look in Spock's eyes finally made sense to me. We were caught, both of us, in this web called Jim Kirk, and because of it, we were caught in each other's webs too. Maybe not a Tholian web, but another kind of web.
Even Jim could feel the difference, although he was unable to figure out what it was. Spock and I, well we were friends now. Of a sort. And there was no need for Jim to learn that Spock and I only learned to get along with the nudge of his last orders.
