More to Living Than Being Alive

Chapter Three

Bones was not grumpy. Anyone would have thought that was a good thing, but Kirk knew better. Bones was always grumpy, even when he was happy. He'd stomp around and scowl and gripe at everyone, a smile almost breaking through the gruff exterior. Bones actually seemed to enjoy being grumpy.

But right now, Bones wasn't grumpy. He wasn't stomping or snapping, or muttering about Kirk being an idiot. He didn't even yell when he caught Kirk making a whispered call down to engineering to check in with Scotty. He just reached across Jim and hung up without a word, then disconnected the communicator. Bones didn't tell Kirk that if he couldn't stay still he would have to be tied down, didn't lecture him about his injuries, didn't even reprimand Scotty for enabling him. He was actually being nice.

Nice Bones scared Kirk. It scared him perhaps more than Bones' speech, because if he were honest, he'd gotten a couple of similar speeches from Bones, and several more from other doctors over the years. He was constantly near death; this was a familiar feeling for him. A painful one, nothing he actively tried to experience again, but some things couldn't be avoided. No, what was scary was Bones being nice and being quiet and not calling him a moron or ranting about Spock, or doing much of anything besides hovering at his side while telling him to get some sleep.

"Bones," Kirk whispered, hardly able to talk past all the trauma his throat had incurred over the last few days.

"What is it, Jim?" Bones was instantly at his side, already pulling out both his tricorder again.

"You should get some sleep." Kirk forced the words out, inhaling sharply at the effort of it, before letting the air out just as quickly as the pain in his ribs flared.

"I'm fine," Bones said gruffly, turning away to unnecessarily fiddle with the IV.

"Please," Kirk said softly, imploring, staring intently at Bones' back.

"I don't want to leave you alone," Bones muttered,, still not turning to face him,

"Doctor." Kirk started, and everything in his body that may have stopped screaming abruptly started again as his heart pounded and he met Spock's eyes on the other side of his bed.

"Damn it, Spock!" Bones snapped, equally startled as he whirled around and nearly knocked over the IV.

"My apologies," Spock stated. "I did not intend to surprise you. I merely came to offer my services."

"Your services?" Bones echoed dubiously.

"I can sit with the Captain, while you rest," Spock stated, hands clasped behind his back.

"I don't need –" Kirk started to protest, but Bones immediately shushed him.

"You're not supposed to talk," he snapped, before looking back to Spock. "I'm perfectly capable of staying with him."

"Of course, Doctor," Spock inclined his head slightly. "I was not implying inability. I was simply offering assistance, should you desire it."

"I don't," Bones said shortly, turning his gaze to his tricorder as he ran it over Kirk again.

"Mr. Spock, could you give us a moment?" Kirk said, forcing the words out, and though his voice sounded both hoarse and weak, he immediately felt more in command.

"Yes, Captain." Spock turned on his heel and strode away, waiting just inside the door of sick bay.

"Bones," Kirk began, wincing as his throat hurt with each word. "You haven't slept since this started."

"Neither have you," Bones retorted. "And you're in much worse shape than I am, and for God's sake, stop talking."

"I'll be fine without you for a few hours," Kirk insisted. "I'll just stay right here, no calls, no working, Bones…" he trailed off until Bones looked at him, met his eyes for the first time since Kirk had told him he didn't believe in no win scenarios, and Kirk saw the exhaustion in his eyes, just behind the fear. "Please," he whispered.

"Damn it, Jim," Bones said softly, scowling and looking away. Kirk was silent, watching, knowing he had Bones on the ropes, knowing if he spoke again he might lose.

"Fine. But don't come crying to me if some cadet tries to kill you again." He turned back to look at Kirk, and Kirk beamed at him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Shut up," Bones snapped. "No talking, no moving, and if you so much as think of getting on that communicator, I will toss you off this ship and be done with the whole thing. I'm tired of patching you up."

Kirk, still smiling, sank back into his pillows as Bones stomped across sick bay to Spock, his usual grumpiness back intact. He watched the two of them talk, which seemed to be mostly Bones ranting and Spock nodding courteously, before Bones left and Spock walked over to him.

"Captain," Spock greeted, standing at Kirk's bedside in his usual pose of disturbingly good posture and hands behind his back.

"Sit," Kirk whispered, moving his head a little to indicate the chair Bones had been using off and on, mostly off.

Spock sat, gracefully, and looked at Kirk inscrutably.

"How's the ship?" Kirk asked, feeling the need to break the silence.

"Repairs are underway, and Mr. Scott estimates we will be able to begin our journey back to Earth in approximately 39 hours." He paused.

"What is it?" Kirk asked, eyes wide, struggling to sit up.

"Please, Captain, it is not the ship," Spock said quickly, and Kirk halted, laying back once more and trying to breathe steadily through the pain he had incurred.

"Then what?" he finally managed.

Spock studied him for a long moment before speaking. "I believe I must apologize once more. I was incorrect –"

"Spock," Kirk interrupted. "You don't have to –"

"Please, Captain, allow me to finish," Spock said. "Five days ago, I told you that you had failed to divine the purpose of the Kobayashi Maru."

Kirk nodded, and repeated Spock's own words back to him. "'to experience fear in the face of certain death, to accept that fear and maintain control of oneself and one's crew.'"

"Indeed," Spock nodded. "I must apologize because it appears I was mistaken."

Kirk frowned, opened his mouth to question, but Spock continued.

"Captain, you faced certain death, as we reached the event horizon of the black hole, and yet you maintained control of yourself and your crew. You did that which I could not."

"Spock…"

"Not only did you maintain control, but you defied the principal lesson of the exam. You cheated death." Spock paused once more. "I apologize. I falsely assumed you did not have the qualities required of a captain. In reality, I was mistaken about just what those qualities were."

Kirk looked away, cleared his throat painfully, before looking back and meeting Spock's eyes. "I was wrong to cheat on your test and you were right to fail me. Five days ago, there was no way I was ready to be captain. I thought I was, but I didn't even know what it meant. I'm not sure I do now." He paused here, unable to force any more words past his swollen, aching throat. Spock handed him a cup of water from the table next to the bed, and Kirk drank it gratefully.

"You would have been a great captain," Kirk said, softer now. "I mean, you will. When we get back to Earth, they'll give the Enterprise back to you. I'll be lucky not to go to jail."

"Captain, it is best if you refrain from speaking anymore," Spock said. "Dr. McCoy has promised that, should I allow you to speak, he would cause us both great pain."

"He's joking," Kirk said.

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "Contrary to popular belief, I do understand the concept of a joke, though I choose not to engage in them myself. However, in this case, I believe Dr. McCoy was not joking, but rather issuing an idle threat as emphasis on the importance of his orders. So I must ask you again not to speak."

Kirk shook his head a little and laughed, the slightly hysterical laugh of someone who has not slept, the exhaustion hitting him even harder now that he was relegated to silence.

"It is also my understanding that you have yet to eat since the attack on Vulcan, nor have you slept aside from your time in surgery," Spock stated. "As such, I have been ordered to make sure you rest."

Kirk sighed and immediately regretted it. "I can't sleep here."

Spock raised one eyebrow.

"People." Kirk cast a meaningful glance around at the sick bay, at the people filling each and every bed as the monitors hummed, nurses whispered, people shuffled and moaned and moved and generally did all the things that made it impossible for him to sleep here.

"Perhaps Dr. McCoy could administer a sedative?"

"Allergic."

Spock frowned at him.

"It's okay," Kirk said softly. He cast his gaze toward the ceiling, pondering, blinking slowly, with each blink his eyelids sticking together, and each sound forcing them apart once more.

"How are the Vulcan passengers?" he whispered.

"Several have been admitted here due to anxiety and grief. The others are saddened but remain in good health."

Kirk scrutinized Spock for a moment, searching that unreadable face. "And you?"

"I am…" he paused. "I criticized my mother for her use of the word 'fine' due to its variable definitions, and yet at this moment, I find it the most adequate descriptor of my current state."

"Your mother must have been an amazing woman," Kirk said softly. "I'm so sorry."

"You are not to blame for her death, Captain," Spock replied.

"Neither are you," Kirk said sharply, and Spock raised his eyebrows, then frowned, caught.

"Yes, Captain," he agreed, voice forcibly neutral.

They fell silent after that, Spock looking off into the distance, very obviously not seeing anything, while Kirk returned his stare to the ceiling.

Bones had always thought that Kirk did not understand his fear of space, that no one could throw themselves so enthusiastically off-planet if they understood the full implications that Bones saw. But Kirk did understand. On long winter's nights in Iowa, gazing up at the open sky, past the moon, naming the closest stars and reciting the long numbers that represented the unfathomable distance between here and there, Kirk understood. This was home, and there was a security about it, a solidity of earth under his feet that could not be present in space, in the polished white hallways of a starship, in the artificial gravity, with the knowledge that the vacuum of space pulled at every surface around him. He thought of being out there, of a cracked hull or a failed engine or an exploding warp core, and the foreignness of everything around, the knowledge that the entire rest of his world was down there and he was up here, that nothing would be coming out to help, that he was entirely alone.

He had realized later that he was alone either way. He was born in space, not on Earth. That help was closer to space than it was to Nowhere, Iowa. That utter solitude was preferable to drunk step brothers, sullen brothers, absent mothers. At least space was his choice, and no one else's.

But he knew for the people of Vulcan, it was not a choice. It was forced, unwanted, and most certainly artificial. These were the people who had chosen not to go into space, but to pursue lives on-planet. People with mothers and fathers and siblings and children and a whole culture and history that had disintegrated in the span of half an hour, and how earth-shattering was that? That your whole world, literally, could evaporate in less time than it took to attend a class, eat a meal, less time than it took some people to shower.

His chest hurt with the realization of it, the mere recognition of that pain, and he hated himself for lying in bed while they were suffering, when he could be helping to do something, anything. That he could think for a second that his pain represented even a fraction of theirs…

"Don't even think about it." Bones' cool hand arrested Kirk's where he had seized his IV. Kirk looked up, startled, and looked around quickly for Spock, locating him behind Bones' shoulder.

"I was just going to –"

"Shut up and rest, yes, you were," Bones finished for him. "But we're leaving the IV in until you have a few substantial meals, so don't get any ideas." He crossed his arms and scowled at Jim. He cast a glance over his shoulder. "I've got it from here, Spock."

"Captain," Spock nodded, by way of goodbye, and took his leave. Bones took out his tricorder and hovered over Kirk, grumbling as he read it.

"Of course he didn't keep you quiet, God forbid he could follow one simple instruction."

"Don't," Kirk said plaintively.

Bones raised his eyebrows. "Did you kiss and make up while I was away?"

Kirk glared at him then closed his eyes, unable and unpermitted to put into words this new armistice with Spock. He opened his eyes. "Vulcans."

Bones sighed and sank into the chair next to the bed. "A few of them are having a hard time, but they're a tough people, Jim. They're going to pull through."

"I need to help," Kirk insisted.

"No. Kid, I hate to tell you, but you aren't going to be much good to anyone right now. I honestly doubt you can even stand," he said gently, but at the look on Kirk's face quickly continued, "And if you try to prove me wrong I will give you so many hypos your neck really will hurt!"

"Bones, their whole planet…"

"I know what you're thinking. But it isn't your fault. Even if you had figured it out sooner, there wouldn't have been enough time to save Vulcan. We couldn't have gotten there or intervened any sooner, and there wasn't anything else we could do. You did everything you could. We all did." Bones paused, then met Kirk's eyes. "You can't make it your fault, because that makes the deaths of everyone who was there trying to save Vulcan meaningless. If you were the only solution, they died for no reason. That's not fair, and it's not true, okay? We did the best we could."

Kirk swallowed hard and nodded. "Bones…"

"I know, kid. Just relax now. You did good." Bones reached out and gently squeezed Kirk's good, non-bandaged hand. "You did good."