Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Past

His name was Stonn and she never wanted to see him again.

She wanted to hiss, bite, scream, rage at him for the unfairness of it all.

But she couldn't bring herself to do it. It wasn't his fault, or so she told herself as he pounded into her, the sand floor of their cell biting into her bare skin.

One of the only things she had done for him was remove her robe, opening her trembling self for him. Even as she went through the motion, banked his fire she knew that she did not want a husband.

She did not want to have intercourse with a man so older than her.

She raised her hands to her face, scrubbing harder with her cloth as she shivered under the cold water.

Her husband was only rooms away but she couldn't bring herself to even look at him, let alone go to him for comfort. He was as uncomfortable as her anyway, watching her with sad eyes as she went about making their home among the jutting rocks of Vulcan comfortable.

Covering her mouth she closed her eyes and brought up a familiar sharp rock.

She fisted her long, flowing hair with a hand and started to hack.

And as her locks lay in the bottom of the expensive, water shower, she felt just a small, small bit better.

And that would have to do for now.

Present

Hissing through her teeth she tried not to fight the hand imposing itself on her neck, forcing it forward to touch her chest. Prick after prick the hypos were released into her bloodstream.

Standard de-tox for after mission, but she still found that she hated it. Time did not dull the sensation.

It was annoying, it took up too much of her time, and at the rate that the asshole doctor was going, she might actually have bruises on her neck. Her. What a fucking bastard.

It seemed like the damn things just kept coming, but Spock knew that it was just her pain receptors going into overdrive. Rolling her hurt bottom lip under she sank her teeth in until she was just over that side of pain.

As another hypo was shot into her neck she couldn't help the all-over shudder she gave as the needle was removed.

Archer owed her.

The hand removed itself and she slowly raised her head. Probing her neck she determined that there was a lot of soreness but she couldn't tell if it would bruise or not.

Turning where she sat on the med-bed, she watched the doctor.

His brow was furrowed, hazel eyes staring intently at the padd he held between his large hands. Bringing a hand up, she watched as he carded it through his dark hair. He looked haggard, handsome but haggard.

"Well doctor, am I clear for duty?" she asked as she leaned back on her hands so she was partially reclining.

Most of her uniform was trashed, but she'd managed to keep her pants. Lovely, expensive, combat pants that they were. Truthfully, Spock was just glad that they still fit after so long not wearing them.

So she was sitting there, no gloves, no neck guard, no armor, no shoes and socks, no bra, and no shirt.

Well, her shirt anyway; they had given her one of those flimsy gown things to cover her chest.

Swinging her feet she kept her face clear and pleasant when he lifted his head to glare at her.

"I suppose ya are." His voice rumbled adown straight to her hips and she slid off of the bed. Brushing at her remaining clothing she turned to walk away when his voice stopped her.

"I, well, dammit, just…thanks." He sounded flustered and annoyed.

Spock turned, glad that she had kept her face on.

"To what do you speak of, doctor?" she asked plainly. She couldn't recall doing anything praise worthy for this man. He was the one to patch her up, not the other way around.

"You didn't give up, even when the fire started. You still looked for Jim and you still got yourselves out relatively alive." He scrubbed a hand over his face, and it occurred to her why he looked so worn.

"Dr. James T. Kirk is your friend." She stated it even as she felt her mask slip some into her customary blankness.

She felt the tendrils of back guilt wind their way around her heart. They chocked her.

"Yeah, Jim and I, we go way back. He's like family. You saved him, and that's worth your fucking weight in gold to me. I just wanted to say thanks."

He was staring at her, his eyes locking with hers, and she couldn't really stand it, not when she hadn't done anything so noble. Her gown found its way through her fingers and she pushed it away.

Spock was a fucking coward. A dog, and she didn't deserve any thanks for saving her own ass, especially from this man.

"Your thanks is unnecessary, doctor, I was merely doing my job and as such-"

"Leonard McCoy," he interrupted her, his voice its gruff growl.

"Excuse me?" she asked as she stared at him, puzzled by the sudden turn in the conversation.

"My name is Leonard McCoy, and if you ever need patched up, well, I, I'll do it for you. It's the least I can do for you saving Jim." He nodded his head as though that was it, the conversation was over.

She didn't have time to tell him that there was no way in fucking hell that she would want to do anything like she had again. Maybe it was for the best that he left Spock staring at his back, wondering what, exactly, she had missed.