And time it took. Kirk awoke each morning to a residue of tradition and heat, his eyes blinking rapidly as if to remove sand. Spock had, once, tried to help him, when he woke, but Kirk pushed him away, turning over so as not to see the Vulcan think and repress an emotional response. He talked to McCoy, a brandy in hand and the cynical doctor suddenly an empath, a sought out comfort who gave Kirk the tools to sleep, dreamless, for at least a few hours.

So time slipped by, enough, at least, for Kirk. Walking to the mess one night for a late dinner, he finally felt the urge to invite Spock, to talk to him about Darbian plant life and Starfleet's latest protocol. He pressed the buzzer to Spock's quarters, happy for the first time in a while, but no answer came. He walked away with a shrug, forming a new resolve to play chess with his first later on.

But Spock could not be found. Kirk's mind became a movie on rewind, little instances of Spock's distress playing clearly in his mind, ones he must have filed away in order to deal with his own emotions. Kirk walked to McCoy's office, found the man hunched over a blood sample,

"when was the last time you saw Spock?"

"a week ago for his physical, what is it?"

"what did that show"

At this, McCoy put down his work, turned in his chair to face Kirk, his face a softened mask, his hands folded,

"He's lost a lot of weight Jim, and he's not getting nearly enough sleep. I told him to come back today."

"and has he?"

"of course not. Jim, what's going on"

"Bones, I… I pushed him away, and now, he thinks I've left him, everyone leaves him"

The doctor motioned towards a chair, relaxed back in his seat, and pressed the call button on his desk. When the nurse came in, he said

"Use the locator and find Mr. Spock, remind him nicely he has an appointment, and bring him back here with you"

turning back to Kirk, he raised his eye brow,

"We'll find him, he can't really go anywhere, and as for you leaving him, you haven't done any such thing, you needed time Jim, you told him that, he needs to fix his own problems. That's not your burden."

Kirk nodded, and then stood, pacing the room,

"this is crazy Bones, I've known the entire time he didn't want to do it, he tried to help me get over the dreams, he woke me up, and you know what I did? I said, get out, I don't want to see you, and then I turned around, he tried again, Bones, he came to me, he touched my shoulder, and I yelled at him Bones, I yelled at him to leave, to never come near me. He had thought everything was okay, I told him it would be."

Kirk turned to look at the doctor, his expression one of agony,

"I was cruel to him"

Spock appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, and with a nod, the nurse left, looking slightly exasperated. McCoy swallowed a smirk, and then motioned the first officer to a diagnostic bed just outside the door.

"be there in a minute Mr. Spock"

Kirk gave McCoy a panicked look, and the doctor just nodded and waved his hand,

"let me check him out Jim, and then we'll go from there"

"You're late, Mr. Spock"

The Vulcan merely gave McCoy an expressionless stare; McCoy turned on the diagnostic chart, and his eyebrows shot up at the readings.

"When was the last time you ate Mr. Spock?"

"I do not recall doctor, may I ask the relevance?"

"Well, Spock, it's like this, you're underweight, dehydrated, spiking a fever, and your stress levels are through the roof, now answer me, when did you last eat?"

"six point six days ago"

"uh huh, so right when I ordered you to, you're so well behaved Spock, and for that, you're staying here over night, and tomorrow. Nurse, prepare a bed"

"Doctor, I fail to see"

"you're blind Spock, it's why I'm the doctor and you tell us about gravitational fields, now I suggest you just kick back, and I'm gonna go get you, I don't know, do you drink milkshakes?"

"No doctor, they are unhealthy and full of sugar"

"alright, you're drinking one tonight you pointy eared…"

Spock's eyebrow rose at the departing doctor, an inexplicable relief flooding his body that he was here, and not alone, in his quarters, where it was getting harder and harder to fight the little voice, the one saying, "it could end, you don't have to deal with this anymore, it doesn't really matter" and there was a certain comfort in that, of course, in the knowledge that he could just become nothing, not exist, darkness, but he was Vulcan, and logic took over before he could formulate a plan. So he existed, with the knowledge that he did not have to, and he was falling, he knew, into tiny little shards of glass.

Kirk departed through the door in the office, his fingers twitching. He couldn't do this, guilt was welling up inside of him, alongside panic, and the minute he stepped outside he felt better, freer, and so, hungry once more, he made his way to the mess, falling in stride with Uhura and Chekov, who were more than happy to accompany him. Spock had heard his depart, and when McCoy entered the sickbay and approached Spock, he was struck by how childlike, how hurt the Vulcan looked, his eyes down, arms loosely folded over his knees, totally still, an art of sensitive children, that stillness was. McCoy gently set the tray down on the bedside table, sat on the edge of the bed, and placed his hand on Spock's shoulder,

"Spock"

The Vulcan shook his head,

"are you familiar, doctor, with a novel called Sula, from the twentieth century?"

"No?"

"hmm"

"Spock, what…?"

But the Vulcan merely shook his head again, and with a sigh, McCoy handed him is meal, of which Spock took a few bites, and then pushed away. McCoy hadn't the heart to force him into anything that night, he knew the man would live, at least until the morning, so with a gentle pat on the knee, he left the Vulcan in the half darkened room, knowing that there was one man who would sleep, and one who wouldn't, and he himself would do a little bit of both.

"But there was no bottom, and there was no top, just circles and circles of sorrow"

Toni Morrison, Sula