When I wrote it, there was no intent of writing more. It was supposed to be a perfect little encapsulation of a single moment in time. And it still is. If you choose to stop at chapter 1. And totally cool if you do that. The artistic purist in me would be all for it.
The other can't-leave-it-alone part if me is like, huh, where is this going anyway? And really a *chapter* can be a perfect moment in time. Right? And what a nice launch point for a longer story to let go to waste… And so I wrote some more. It was supposed to be a second perfect encapsulation chapter. But… that didn't quite land as well as chapter 1 because: narrative.
I leave it as an exercise for the reader to decide to stop or continue on. Either way, you all rock for voyaging with my fanfic at any level. Thank you all.
Poison
The simulated heartbeat from the medical monitor acts as a siren to physical awareness. Spock is greeted by the antiseptic scent of sickbay, the blissfully heated bed. There is the same lethargy as the previous waking, and there is pain, but it has mutated. It tugs and pulls across his chest down to his navel, but does not threaten death. He holds his eyes closed while he orients his mind.
Dr. McCoy's voice is close by, overhead. "Sickbay here. He's coming around." Followed by the chirrup of the communications channel being closed.
The tell-tale monitor has given him away. Spock must bear up under it and, if he opens his eyes, also under an ice-colored gaze.
Spock settles his devastated body into sensory limbo in order to liberate additional mental capacity for his captain's arrival. Barring an emergency with the ship itself, he estimates with near one-hundred percent likelihood that Kirk is already on his way. Spock anticipates having him nearby, experiences a warming midsection at the expectation, even as he concludes that the visit is a misuse of Kirk's duty time.
"He awake?" The voice is gentle, directed elsewhere.
Spock must have drifted into half sleep. He rises out of it, opens his eyes. A hand touches his upper arm, squeezes hard enough the muscles shift against each other. The hand rests fully there. Spock's focus is drawn to the outline of it, traces each finger and its pressure.
Kirk's voice is silk. "How are you feeling?"
Spock nods.
Contrarily, Kirk's tone with McCoy is commanding. "Status?"
McCoy steps closer. "We've sewn him up, replenished his blood, but we have to clear a stew of toxins from the wound site before he can enter a healing trance."
The hand tightens, remains that way, as if to fix Spock in place.
Kirk looks up at the monitor, looks it over as if trying to glean the unfamiliar there. "He in a lot of pain?"
McCoy tips his head to the side. He looks down at Spock. "You want something for the pain?"
Spock shakes his head. Far worse than the pain would be to lose control.
Kirk hitches a hip on the medical bed, leans over Spock. His gaze takes in all of him above the coverlet. "You sure?"
Spock has to clear his throat to talk given how close Kirk is. "I believe I am all right."
"If you're sure."
Spock ineffectually licks his dry lips. He wants to say something meaningful, to connect with Kirk in turn to match how Kirk is connecting with him at this moment, but his mind is not performing well. He wants Kirk to remain as close as he is now, swallows against the hunger of it.
"The survey…" Spock manages.
Kirk sits up, but stays put. "We haven't held a debriefing let alone a planning meeting. We're regrouping right now."
"It is incomplete," Spock estimates. The notion of that given his own sacrifice stresses him enough to shift the pace and tone of the monitor.
"Jim," McCoy warns.
Kirk stands and shifts his hand to Spock's forearm. "It's being taken care, Science Officer. I want you to rest."
Spock swallows a sigh. He is misunderstood, but should have no expectation that Kirk will take this new hollow need into account.
"How long?" Kirk's voice is directed elsewhere. "Before a healing trance?"
A shuffle of fabric indicates McCoy has crossed his arms. "I'm hoping twelve hours, could be twenty. Partly depends on the lab concocting a better antidote. He's stable right now, and he's healing, albeit slowly."
The healing trance will be a test. Spock will have to free himself, at least temporarily, from the grip of this new appetite in order to focus his mind.
# # #
There are 2.13 hours remaining in gamma shift. The door to sickbay hisses open.
Kirk enters sickbay the way he does every area, fully surveying it while striding purposefully. He commands his environment just as he commands the people in it, without conscious thought.
He finds Spock's gaze and smiles the way he does when no one else is looking, as if willing to be vulnerable at that moment as a gift. "You're awake."
Some centering is required before speaking. "I am somewhat tired of resting."
Spock is rewarded with a deeper smile just for him.
Spock has healed overnight and finds it considerably easier to talk. "May I speak with you while we are alone?"
Kirk steps closer, presses his hip against the edge of the bed, but keeps his hands behind his back. "Of course."
Spock stares at the overhead, at the strut impinging on the room. "Apologies. This is a difficult topic."
Kirk looks down at the coverlet. "Take your time."
"I am not particularly skilled at human relationships, but I am certain that I should not unilaterally alter my relationship to you."
Finely shaped human eyebrows furrow as Kirk puzzles this, but he does not look up.
Spock breathes in slowly until his wounds tug against the movement. "Everyone on this ship relies upon you. And I have strictly avoided doing so. In part because it is my nature to be fully self sufficient and in part because you do not need the additional burden."
Kirk's upper back tenses, pulls his shoulders back. "No one on this ship is a burden."
"I do not have the proper words for what I wish to express. I am not adept at this."
"I shouldn't have interrupted."
Spock regroups. "I have altered my thinking on how you and I should relate. There are numerous unknowns surrounding this issue in light of that change. But I am unable to express myself to resolve them."
In the silence that follows, Kirk reaches out and adjusts the edge of the coverlet. He straightens the folded edge so it is even.
"I shouldn't speak for you. But I could take some guesses and you could nod yes or no."
Spock raises his left brow slightly. "That in itself may be an illuminating exercise."
Kirk laughs faintly, drops his hand to his side. "Difficult or not. Whatever the topic is. It is nice, as always, to be so comfortable with you. I can't imagine how you could ever be a burden."
"Perhaps that is a way I can express my meaning: I am increasingly comfortable with you. What exactly changes due to this, I do not know. And that large unknown is an issue for my logic ongoing."
The bed monitor shifts into a rising tone.
Spock closes his eyes and calms his vital signs. He does not want Dr. M'Benga, who is resting nearby on call, to come and check on him.
"We can talk about this when you're better," Kirk says.
Spock shakes his head. "That is just it. I may have difficulty with a healing trance due to this given its strong emotional component."
Kirk starts to reach out but shuffles his muscles and locks his hands behind himself again. "Now that's a problem. What can I do for you? I can give you any assurance you need."
"It is not just you." Spock rocks his head away, then stares overhead again. "I must adjust my own mind in conjunction with your responses in a re-iterative process that—"
"Spock. Spock. Spock." This time Kirk's hand comes out. His knuckles rap the edge of the bed before retreating. "Listen to me. You want to lay a burden on me for once, please make it this one. I promise we'll work through this. About three weeks from now we have leave coming up. If there isn't time before then. I'll give you all the time we need then. Okay? Rest and trust me." His voice dips softer again. "I don't refer to you as my brother for no reason."
Spock tilts his head away and nods. The monitor climbs. Spock has been undermined from an undefended angle. If he is going to give himself up, in any manner, he apparently must do so more thoroughly to have space to heal as well as function. Logical in a way.
The door swishes open and M'Benga approaches, stands at the foot of the bed. "How did I know you were here, Captain Kirk."
Kirk takes a half step back. "I'm keeping my hands to myself, Doctor."
Spock lifts his head, takes in each of them. M'Benga looking protective and Kirk looking a bit the naughty child.
"The captain has been reminded that touching an injured Vulcan is very much not acceptable," M'Benga says.
"You can check the tape," Kirk says easily.
M'Benga ressembles McCoy when he crosses his arms. "I trust you. I was pretty sure I got my point across to you. But my patient is not on duty and needs quiet to rest. He is not under your jurisdiction right now."
Kirk looks even more the child when he dips his head in the face of this. He expresses a pained smile. With a nod to Spock, he departs with a stride that implies he is already thinking of the next several things to be done.
M'Benga pivots down the side of the bed, arms still crossed. It is far easier to keep the monitor level with Kirk gone. M'Benga considers Spock for a time, then pulls a chair over and sits beside the bed.
He speaks in simple Vulcan, rusty from disuse. "I am well aware what my place is with regard to personal topics and Vulcans. But we are not on Vulcan. And the situation is nonstandard. So I will say this: I have more concerns than your injuries given the situation."
"Please clarify," Spock says, also in Vulcan, pleased with how clipped and strong this comes out.
"Very well. You are an unbonded mature male Vulcan and that makes you vulnerable in ways you don't seem to take into account."
"I am half-human, Doctor. I am not so susceptible."
"I hope you are an accurate judge of this. And I am a Doctor more so than a Healer. Far be it for me to suggest you arrange for another betrothal bond quickly. Before you lose the choice."
Spock studies the overhead, resists the implications. "Explain."
M'Benga sighs. Stares overhead as well for a time.
"Vulcans are illogical in their denial of their own biological natures. The additional difficulty brought on by that denial… You have no idea how frustrating it is to work there and have entire areas of medicine off limits." He gestures at his own shiny blue chest. "And not just because I was an outsider. In fact I did better as an outsider. A few Vulcans were willing to bend and share a little because of that."
Spock pauses to arrange the driest of tones. "I am in a poor position to defend all of Vulcan at this time."
M'Benga lowers his head down over his crossed arms. "Right. Sorry. In summary. Your mind is looking for a bondmate whether you intend for it to or not. You've melded with Captain Kirk, three, four times?"
"Six."
M'Benga adjusts his feet on the rungs of the chair. The metal rings out just at the edge of hearing. "I'm surprised you still have choices."
Spock studies the ceiling. He breathes in as slowly as possible, holds it. The ship's impulse engine vibrates beneath him as it has the entire time, even when he was not consciously aware of it.
M'Benga picks up the nearby padd and studies it. "Your last lab numbers look pretty good. Want to try a trance?"
"Is this a test?"
"I don't know. Is it?"
Spock again falls silent, considers his situation. If he has indeed slipped and opened a bond to James Kirk, his mental landscape has become a hopeless morass of conflicting priorities and culpability. A healing trance would be the least of his issues.
"How would I determine…?" Spock asks.
M'Benga looks up from the padd. "How would you determine? You mean, determine if you have run out of choices? I doubt you have. James Kirk kept his hands to himself. That's the better test. Not whether you can enter a healing trance."
Spock speaks only because he is in dire need of assistance in this. "I do believe something has changed."
M'Benga's arms go around the padd as he hugs it to his chest. "That can happen with anyone at anytime. What do you think has changed?"
"I have. Given in. Somehow." Spock shakes his head. He was so certain he wished to be alone in this life. Now he cannot bear the idea. Not with someone like Kirk so close by. "I do not have words."
"Well. Do you have a healing trance in you?"
Heat fills Spock. The kind he is deeply familiar with. The kind that has something to prove.
"I will manage it."