The mental turmoil kept Spock asleep longer than he anticipated. Five hours.

A captain's whistle startled Spock to consciousness and he quickly recovered to answer it.

"Spock here."

"Mr. Spock we're approaching Starbase 7. A representative from the base is requesting a conference-vid with you. Would you like it patched to your quarters."

"Send it through, Spock out."

"Admiral Carter." Spock addressed as the others face materialized.

"Commander."

"I want to personally apologize for the injuries and loss of life due to this mission. I have pushed for Starfleet to quarantine the planet. I agree with your assessment. A covert biological team will be sent down to take samples but after that the Federation is going to leave the planet alone. Unless those roots magically cure bendii or some other ailment, not another soul will touch down. Business aside how is Captain Kirk?"

"He sustained heavy damage and it will take several days for him to regain consciousness. I will send you a detailed medical report and request that the Enterprise be given a leave of absence from missions until the Captain is fully recovered."

"A little shore leave is in order, I will see to it."

"Thank you Admiral. Spock ou—"

"One more thing, Commander. A last mission. A quarantine team is suited up and ready to be beamed aboard. We'd like the Enterprise to shuttle the team to the planet and return them before your two week shore leave is in effect. It will take me that long to put in your request, by the time you are back Enterprise will be officially off duty."

"That will be acceptable. Personally, I would like to see that planet put to rest."

"Understood. Carter out."

Spock relayed the new orders to Mr. Scott and continued his morning in light meditation.

"McCoy to Spock."

"Spock here. What is it doctor?"

"I think you might want to come down here."

"On my way."

Spock walked anxiously to McCoy's office. He despised it when the doctor was vague, but if he didn't say anything direct it usually leant towards the positive.

He held that thought close as he walked through Sickbay's doors.

McCoy's eyes were smiling but his face was still tight and grim. Spock read right through him.

"Come on." McCoy ushered Spock into the patient's room.

Kirk was sitting up, against doctors orders it seemed.

"Hey! You, down." McCoy barked.

Kirk frowned and tried to slouch into the bed, wincing as he went.

"It's your own damn fault for not listening to me." McCoy responded with a harsh voice and sympathetic eyes.

Spock was worried at first, but if McCoy was scolding oppose to rushing at him with a medical tricorder, it must be a good sign.

"How are you feeling Captain?" Spock asked, announcing his presence and stepping toward the bed with his hands laced behind his back.

"Like my insides have been mangled by a mad scientist, but other than that, pretty good."

"You managed to slip from McCoy's coma; I imagine your healing process has been stunted. Perhaps you should rest."

"Naw, that's the thing Spock, that coma, it was the best of both worlds."

Spock turned to McCoy for clarification.

"Your meld with him while he was unconscious and in the water induced in him a sort of Vulcan healing trace, similar to the ones you slip into but with the aid of the coma, was quite effective."

"I apologize for entering your mind unannounced Captain, but nonetheless, I do not regret it."

"Nor do I, Mr. Spock. And just so we're clear, you have my unwritten permission to do so again anytime in the future if it may save my life." Kirk gave his First Officer a fond gaze, speaking volumes of gratitude and appreciation.

Spock nodded in agreement.

"When can he be released doctor?"

"24 hours. But light duty only. I know he's going to go to the bridge, that's fine. But just get crew updates and go to bed. Please be sure that he does."

Spock raised a brow.

"Am I to be his caretaker?"

"You already are, besides I do not trust him to take medical orders on his own. I'll give you a list of what he can and cannot do. If he does anything on the "cannot" side, you are to report to me immediately and I'll come up with some nasty rehabilitation regiments."

"Aw, come on Bones."

"I'll see to the list. Patch it through to my quarters. Will you require medical updates?"

"Take a scan of him every six hours. I want to know he's not overextending himself. Those organs are delicate and I'm not putting them back together a second time because of stupidity."

"Understood. Captain, we have orders to return to the planet—"

"I know, I know. Quarantine and all that, good work Mr. Spock."

Spock was about to question where he had learned of that information when McCoy gestured to his bedside console. Of course he'd intercept the reports.

"Captain, I will leave you to rest. I am pleased to see you alive and well. Doctor, may I have a word with you?"

McCoy's eyebrow twitched then rose slightly.

"Sure, one moment."

McCoy filled a hypo-spray and approached the bed.

"24 hours. I mean it." Kirk tilted his neck to humor the good doctor and sighed.

The spray hissed and the captain settled painfully into the medical bed.

McCoy found Spock sitting.

"Alright. Something's up, and do I need a drink?"

"Perhaps."

"Christ." McCoy saw nervousness in Spock's eyes.

Nervousness. It didn't fully register but that drink did. McCoy hesitated at the brandy and chose whiskey instead.

"Alright, spill it."

"I do not intend to 'spill' anything Dr. McCoy."

His full last name and not just doctor, Damnit.

"Alright, just tell me what it is you think I need to hear."

"It is a matter of impairment. I believe I may be compromised."

"Is your wrist still bothering you?"

"Not physical impairment." Fragmented sentences… Son of a—

"Then the meld. Did any of Jim's brainwaves damage to you in some way?"

"No."

McCoy took a long deep drink.

"Emotional then?" The doctor dared to venture.

"I believe my attachment to the captain, my emotional attachment, is going to prove damaging to the chain of command. I came to the realization yesterday that his life meant more to me than those of the security officers that perished. I was appalled by the thought and frankly I do not know if I could make a life or death decision regarding the captain if I were forced to choose between him and another member of this crew. I would always choose life for him and therefore there is no choice."

McCoy seemed to think about this for a while. He took periodic sips and studied the First Officer.

"I'd be lying if I said I'd risk the captain's life if there were another crew member on my operating table that needed attention at the same time. I think we are equally impaired and I don't know of any man that isn't when it comes to someone he loves and respects."

"I am not a man, Doctor, which is why these thoughts are particularly troubling to me."

McCoy wasn't sure how to get to Spock. He already knew what his answer was. He was well aware that this impairment was natural in the human world and though the books had written cause for concern for such attachments, every captain would be stripped of rank if doctors actually enforced those opinions.

"You don't need to be a man to love, Mr. Spock."

McCoy left it at that and finished his drink. Or at least meant to until Spock unveiled one tiny thing.

"Love, doctor? There are so many forms of it expressed by humans. I believe the regard you hold for the captain is different than mine, though you speak of it in the same breath."

"Wait."

McCoy reluctantly revisited his seat, this time sinking into it very slowly.

"When you were reviving the captain, I assume you had to be closer to him than you've previously experienced."

"That… is an accurate statement."

"And in that closeness you discovered … what exactly?"

Spock sighed. Outwardly.

McCoy poured another drink.

He saw the signs. He knew how to read them. He just never thought he'd be looking for them in a Vulcan. Knew exactly what that meant but damnit-all he needed to hear Spock say it or else he'd never truly know what that green-blooded alien was feeling.

"I desire him."

"Emotionally? Physically?" McCoy liked specifics. Vulcan's tended to be vague. And for good reason. For a race that feels deeply and shows nothing, they thrive on it.

"Both are equally compelling." Spock admitted.

"Are you going to tell Jim this?" McCoy tried his damnest to be objective. He truly wasn't sure what he thought a romantic relationship would do. To either of them.

He knew Jim longed for companionship despite his one-night-stands-on-shore-leave ways but he also knew Jim would never put anyone before the Enterprise. She was too special, too demanding, and the only other person McCoy could ever see the ship sharing the captain with was Spock. Someone equally devout to work and less likely to pull Jim's ambition away from Starfleet.

Spock was certainly in need of emotional stability. For all his masks, McCoy sensed a deeper issue with Spock. He knew problems typically arose from mixed heritages, and whether or not a society was socially accepting of those differences. But the individual. Was he accepting of it, of himself? Could two broken people form such a perfect whole? McCoy for the life of him wanted to believe so, but he was prone to romanticism and perfect endings every since his own tragic marriage. He loved love. But he also had no desire to be a part of it. McCoy realized his own reflections were getting too personal and tried to focus on Spock.

Apparently Spock was doing calculations or something relatively close to human thinking on the subject. He hadn't responded.

"I think you should." McCoy answered for him.

"And for what purpose, doctor?" He sounded so resigned. Rejected already.

"I've seen his dedication to you, and I'm not sure his affections are strictly professional either. At least be open to it. He deserves love, even the convoluted green-blooded kind you could offer him. And though I hate to admit it, you do too."

"That is the thing doctor, I do not know if I can be… adequate enough for him in human terms of a suitable mate."

"A suitable… damnit Spock. Just tell him, if he rejects you, fine, we can have a drink over it. But if he doesn't…think of the possibilities… remember. There are always possibilities."

The quote stuck Spock oddly. He considered McCoy's words.

He decided.

"Thank you doctor, I'm sure Jim will update you on our progress."

"You'll tell him then?"

"Yes. I will tell him."

McCoy took it as a personal victory and finished his second drink. Spock left and all the doctor could do was shake his head.

"Well. Onwards and upwards." McCoy put away the bottle and set up the next round of treatments for Jim. He programmed an automated schedule and instructed Chapel to check on his readings every three hours. He noted where he predicted the readings should be after the medication was administered and requested information on any discrepancies.

"Is it true?" Chapel asked demurely.

"You listened I take it?"

"I didn't mean to. I only heard him say love, and that's all I needed."

"Yeah. Jim doesn't know yet. I'd like to keep it that way until pointy ears can talk to him, if he ever does." McCoy sighed.

"I think they'll be okay." Chapel responded assuredly.

"Me too, Christine, me too."

Spock headed to the bridge. He wasn't sure if he felt better after talking to McCoy or not.

He expected to be told how to deal with his feelings of favoring one life over another, or how at least he should go about command with such thoughts in his head. He never intended to reveal the depth of his affection. But when McCoy said 'love' it inspired him to make the clarification- the categorization he'd been attempting since those emotions presented themselves. He never wanted it known that he physically desired the captain. Jim. His friend? McCoy was also called friend. After this… what would he become?

Spock was genuinely worried. He repressed it as soon as the turbolift doors opened.

Scotty lifted from the chair and resumed his post.

"Aye, Mr. Spock! We've got the whole'lot of 'em in the transporter room and 'ere bein' assigned temporary quarters as we speak!"

"Good work, Mr. Scott. Mr. Sulu, begin disengagement procedures." The sooner this mission ended the sooner they could all have shore leave.

It was the first time he actively sought rest. Mostly for the crew. Mostly for his captain. There was that unmistakable bias again. It struck him gentler this time. It manifested as a subtle warmth that spread beneath his chest. It seemed intensified now that he knew the identity of the emotion.

"Mr. Sulu set coordinates for the planet warp factor 6."

Spock thought briefly of Sulu, wondering when the man had time to rest since Kirk's rescue and piloting the ship.

Had his worry for his captain overshadowed his regard for all others? As soon as the ship hit warp, Spock arranged relief for all the senior officers that had been involved in the rescue mission or away teams.

They all held silent thanks in their eyes, even as they reluctantly gave up their posts.

They truly had an amazing crew, Spock thought.

The ship would be at warp for another seven hours. Spock flagged down Kirk's usual yeoman and requested all of the paperwork in queue to be filed.

He signed reports and scanned the finer details in his captain's absence. No doubt Kirk would learn that all his paperwork was caught up by the time he woke. Spock inwardly smiled at thoughts of his captain.

McCoy's words reeled through his head and that nervousness that struck him in the doctor's office flared up again.

Would there really be any benefit in revealing his affections?

He already went through it with himself and realized he only considered the effects it would have on the chain of command. He never took the time to personally account for his feelings, or think of how it might affect the captain and him socially. Spock allowed himself to imagine what chess nights would be like after releasing such information, knowing that Kirk knew and accepted him. He imagined deliberate smiles and the attentions that he would get from his captain. They already had such a tangible connection that it was hard to imagine it even more enhanced.

McCoy had a talent for reading people, and doubted he would give Spock false information on purpose.

Spock was never opposed to challenges, or new beginnings. It was why he chose Starfleet. Why he continues to choose Starfleet. He couldn't imagine Kirk, Jim, completely rejecting him. His affection… his, dare he say, love? Maybe… but his friendship would always stand.

Logically, there was nothing to lose that he didn't already have.

Spock discovered what day dreaming was as he realized he was already halfway through the reports and could remember less than a forth of them.

Six hours passed, the reports were finished and Spock spent the remainder of his time on recalibrations and calculations while they were at warp. He wanted to maximize the sensors so that they detected potentially dangerous vegetation. No longer would they beam on to a planet of underestimated flora. He made a database of every potentially dangerous pollen and rooting system and entered it into the sensory databank. He pulled the original botanist's report they had sent to Starfleet and began calibrating a specific set of sequences and signatures. He hoped to try it out once they reached the planet.

"Sir, we're closing in on the planet." The temporary helmsmen announced.

"Hail Sulu, and all other senior officers to the bridge, tell them they have ten minutes to report to their stations. Thank you all for relieving the senior staff." Spock cringed when he thanked officers. He knew from classes positive reinforcement helped build teams, especially among humans. He was gratified, but such praises often left him feeling more empty than expressive.

And that was another difference Jim instilled in him.

When Jim was so dangerously close to death he remembered begging time to spare them. He remembered saying please to someone, something, that would listen. He remembered thanking that someone when Sulu's voice broke through the surface of that water. And earlier in sickbay he was truly pleased to see the captain awake. And he thanked McCoy for just doing his job. For returning him. And he meant it. Strongly. Passionately.

Spock heard the turbolift open and saw a brighter looking Sulu take his post.

"Mr. Sulu, prepare to set a standard orbit around the planet."

"Spock to Mr. Scott."

"Scott here."

"Inform the quarantine crew and the botanists to report to the transporter room for beam out. Make sure everyone is armed and that they stay in groups of two or more when traveling outside the beam down radius."

"Aye sir! Scott out."

Spock left the center chair and took up stock with his scanner. He tuned and punched a few controls but mostly watched the activity on the planet with grave intensity.

If that root system as so much as trembled, he'd know about it.

He sent the coordinates of the central root system to Chekov's console. He hoped he wouldn't have to destroy a living creature, but he would if it stopped the deaths of Starfleet officers.

The crew worked effectively and quickly. The samples they collected took less than an hour. The quarantine crew set up regulation beacons and warning flags then beamed back to the ship. Another crew on board worked on a probe and set a few netting systems. They cast a small force field around the planet with protection numbers for the grid they integrated. If anyone wanted go down to the planet they would have a long line of security to go through before they could even set foot on its soil. Transporter inhibitors were last to be established after the final person made it back to the ship.

"All crew members accounted for sir." Uhura chimed as the report came through.

"Mr. Sulu, prepare to leave orbit and return to Starbase 7. We'll drop off the crew and shore leave will be in affect as soon as our mission is complete."

Everyone smiled at the news, and emotions seemed to lift.

Mr. Scott walked off the turbolift with a hiss.

"Mr. Spock, I'm ta relieve you of your duty sir, doctor's orders."

Spock relinquished the center chair and gave the engineer a thankful nod and withheld questioning that decision.

Jim must be awake, Spock thought.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't stalling to report to sickbay. He got the doctor's meaning full-well but still… he hadn't meditated on his recent thoughts and they still felt too jumbled for such an important discussion.

"McCoy to Spock." The doctor's voice was sharp.

"On my way, doctor."