Title: Long Day's Journey into Night

Author: Nemo the Everbeing

Author's Notes: How many ways can one say "sleepwalking"? Read on . . .

Chapter 4

Spock let his head fall back and his eyes close for the merest second of honest emotion. Without sight, he could hear Leonard gasping softly and felt him collapse next to the Vulcan, only to wrap his arms around him tightly. Leonard was, it seemed, very physical that night.

"What did the psi scan reveal?" the Vulcan asked, carding his hand through Leonard's hair.

The human sighed. "He's either not psychic, or he hides it very well," McCoy said. "There's no way to be sure."

"So we are no further along than we were before," Spock concluded. "I am still the most logical suspect."

Leonard jerked up to meet Spock's eyes and glare fire. "Will you stop saying that? You are not a murderer."

"Certainly not consciously, but it's unknown what I may do in a hypnogogic state."

"What, sleepwalking?" Leonard demanded. "That's just . . . ludicrous. You're not some sort of psychotic somnambulist!"

Spock arched an eyebrow. "Putting aside that gross bit of alliteration, I fear that may well be what I am."

"You're not."

"Unfortunately, a court of law will not acquit a person merely because their lover says they did not murder anyone. Even if that person is the suspect's bondmate."

"I know with more certainty than I've ever known anything that you aren't a murderer." Leonard reached out and cupped his cheek. "I'm dead certain of that." He frowned. "No pun intended."

Spock nodded. "Then I shall be forced to trust your judgment."

Leonard smiled with a sudden impishness. "Could I get that in writing? 'Cause I don't think Jim would believe me if I told him."

"That is why I told you, and not Jim." They stared at one another, barely moving, and Spock said, "What will you do now?"

"Sleep."

Spock wrapped his own arms around Leonard. "I meant tomorrow."

"I know."

"What will you do?"

"Psych evaluations."

"Of whom?"

"Entire crew."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Do you intend to employ your nurses to evaluate some of the less suspicious crewmembers?"

"Nope. I'm doing it all. I don't trust anyone else."

"Your investigation borders on obsession, Leonard," Spock said.

"It's what husbands do."

Spock fell silent and stared at the ceiling. Leonard had said "husbands", not "bondmates". He had been using that word more recently as of late, and it made Spock think about what it meant to be a human's husband. There would be an openness to his life, an honesty with the rest of the crew. They would know of their relationship, and their marriage.

Marriage. They would marry in traditional human style. There would be invitations and dancing and cake. All manner of emotional events surrounded a marriage, which was in itself inextricably bound up in emotion.

Leonard sighed. "You always get abstracted when I talk about getting married."

"It is a complicated notion."

Leonard brushed a finger along the shell of Spock's ear. "What's so complicated about it? I love you, I sure as hell hope that you love me. Stands to reason that we'd get married."

"That's a very human thought."

Leonard's face clouded over. "What's wrong with that? We've both got it in us."

"You cannot simply ignore the fact that my culture is occasionally incompatible with yours," Spock said. "It is unfair that you insist upon my adherence to your cultural beliefs."

"What do you think I've done? I went through physical and mental hell to be your bondmate, and you have the presumption to tell me that I'm insisting on adherence? You know what I think?"

"I cannot possibly imagine."

Leonard pressed on, ignoring Spock's sarcasm. "I think you're afraid of the commitment. It's all well and good as long as we keep this thing under the table. Sneaking to our quarters, just so no one notices. For God's sake, Spock, they're our friends!"

"There is a matter of decorum to consider, Leonard. Any marriage between senior officers has potential ramifications."

"I don't care!" Leonard exploded, jumping out of the bed and collecting his clothes, pulling them on with a furious abandon. "I can't believe this," he said. "I can't believe I fell for you. After my last marriage, you think I'd spot the—"

It was Spock's turn to get to his feet, pulling on his meditation robe and catching the human's wrist and turning him to face the Vulcan. "Spot the what?" he asked, staring at Leonard. The human had raised his mental barriers, and Spock couldn't read what was going on behind the seething anger.

Leonard's mouth drew in a straight, angry line. "The 'my way or the highway' mentality. I'm not good at obeying orders, Sir. And I'm not good at subjugating my desires at every turn. You wanted that, you should have found yourself some nice, docile Vulcan girl."

"Circumstances required that I bond with you, and not a Vulcan."

Leonard stepped back, looking as though he'd been struck. "That's what this is about, isn't it?" he asked. "You regret this. I'm a good time, but you don't think of me as anything more than that."

It was Spock's turn to feel injured. Did Leonard honestly think of him in that way? Couldn't he see . . . Spock didn't know what came over him, but he said in his most glacial tones, "You are rarely if ever a 'good time', Doctor."

The fist came out of nowhere, and Spock had no time to prepare for it. He hit the ground and stared at the carpet. Above him, he heard Leonard speaking in a voice shaken with fury and embarrassment. "You son of a bitch! You want me gone? Fine. Wonderful."

Suddenly, even over Leonard's strident tones, Spock heard something. A soft hissing was filling the room. He pushed himself up and listened. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

Leonard had the good sense to stop, but his stance told Spock he hated doing it. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Spock stood up suddenly, feeling the invasion of something slipping through his veins. "We have to leave."

"That was the idea already," Leonard said turning his back on Spock. Then, he too heard the noise. He stopped and Spock heard him sniff. "Oh, Christ," he gasped. Someone was pumping some sort of gas into their quarters, and it was rather obvious who that someone was.

Momentarily forgetting their animosity as they fought for survival, they were moving for the door. Spock moved ahead, and heard a sickening crack. He turned to see Leonard on his knees and coughing. His eyes watered and each hacking cough was bringing up expectorate blood which splattered on the carpet and the tiny bubbles popped in little red circles.

Spock crashed to his knees seconds later, feeling his head fill with strange fog. He stared at Leonard, who met his eyes even as he collapsed on his side, crimson running from the corner of his mouth. "Spock," he gasped, then fell still. The oft-irritating, but always desired presence in Spock's mind winked out.

Spock felt horror rip away his control. Leonard wasn't in his mind. Even during their argument, the doctor had been there.

The last thing Leonard would remember was Spock telling him that he regretted their bonding. For long moments he stared at the limp form of the human doctor. At last, logic took over where nothing else would, commanding him to act. He pulled himself slowly across the carpet, desperately making for the comm panel.

He lurched against the wall, feeling the pain of such an abrupt contact jar up his arm with wonderful clarity. It gave him just enough time to pull himself up and punch the button. "Spock to security," he managed. "I need—"

A hand slapped against the button, closing the channel. Spock's head whipped around, and he stared in disorientation at the face covered in a gas mask.

"It's all right." The voice behind the mask floated out in muffled distortion. "I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you."

The head turned and Spock's did, as well, even as he slid back down the wall, the gas finally getting to him and starting the inexorable shutdown of his body.

The figure stood over Leonard's sprawled form. "Oh, God," the figure said. "Oh, God. I didn't think there was anyone else here."

The only thing Spock could think to answer was, "Scientific paper . . ."

"Oh, I understand. You have friends. You don't want to admit it, but you do." The figure knelt next to McCoy. "Especially him. You argue, but I know that you care for one another. He's one of your closest companions." The figure looked up, and its voice was a pained whisper. "I'm so, so sorry, but I can't leave witnesses. I can't risk him having seen anything." The figure drew forth a knife. "God, I am so sorry."

"No," Spock choked, slewing to one side and falling to the floor. "I called security. If you value your life, you will leave now."

"My life? A bit too late to think about that, Spock. I have to concern myself with you. With your life."

Spock struggled to keep his eyes open, but they fell shut in time to hear the insidious sucking sound of a knife through flesh. His mind closed in on itself, falling into darkness.

Leonard . . .