"Spock?" McCoy whispered, before gently cleaning his pale face. It was a rare occurrence that the doctor himself gave a patient a bed bath - that was mostly the nurses' job. However for a friend he would always make an exception - especially when said friend didn't react that well to be touched by anyone these days.

"Are you with me?"

Dark eyes closed, briefly, before an equally dark-head turned towards McCoy's deep voice. The Vulcan blinked, hazy and confused. The bright sickbay light seemed uncomfortable for his eyes, so McCoy ordered the computer to lower it.

"Better?"

McCoy's voice was strangely gentle, as he continued to clean Spock's torso and then moved to his arms and hands - his movements were steady, professional and tender. He had certainly a good bedside manner when it counted. The Vulcan blinked again and the doctor smiled – a forced smile which didn't reach his worried eyes.

"We're ...we're going to Earth for the next months - you, Jim and I. Soon you will be able to see Phil again. Did you miss the good doctor?"

The morning after Spock had been injured in, McCoy had submitted his demand for emergency compassionate leave – which surprisingly hadn't be denied. Admiral Barnett, who within three days had authorized his demand, had been quite close to Pike. He had known - as Pike's superior and friend - about his marriage to Spock and certainly wanted the partner of his friend in good health.

"It's the last thing I can do for Chris. He had saved my life a dozens times over when we served together on the Copernicus. Now I can finally repay him my debt," Barnett had said – voice full of grief - and promised to keep things quiet for the next months. McCoy only hoped they actually could sort things out because the extended leave came with a condition – at the end of it would be a psychiatric evaluation and a performance hearing and if Spock would fail them, the Vulcan's Starfleet career would be a thing of the past. They would ban him to a planet side posting and he would never see the stars again.

"Spock?"

This time the doctor had expected some protest on Spock's part but none came. There was no reaction. McCoy nearly cried - or laughed hysterically. How could he just sit there and say nothing, show no emotion at all, when his whole life was about to change again? When he would have to leave the only home he had ever known after Nero chose to blow up Vulcan in a fit of rage and revenge and Pike drew his last breath. How could he sit there and look at the doctor with aloof indifference when the chance that he would see the Enterprise again was nearly zero?

McCoy would have screamed and cursed if he were Spock – but the Vulcan was as listless as ever. Not caring that he didn't have any say in his own future. When he looked into the Vulcan's blank face it was like looking into a black hole.

The Spock before Nero - who McCoy had not known that well - was all sardonic side marks, and sometimes shy, sometimes confident almost smiles, hidden behind a mask of logic, which also cloaked a lot of his insecurities. Insecurities that now and then would shine through whenever Spock was exhausted or injured or confronted with human's prejudice against an alien species. Spock after Nero was quieter, harder, more closed off, but still trying so very hard to move on. However the person who was sitting before him right now? Was a stranger, a ghost – not quite dead but certainly not alive either. Captured in a world between living and death. Not being able to go forth but not being able to go back either.

"We will leave the ship in two days. Your back should be mostly healed by then."

McCoy had already planned out Spock's, Kirk's and his journey. In two days the Enterprise would dock on Starbase 8, where they would get a shuttle to Archanis IV and then another one to Earth. There they would stay at McCoy's San Francisco apartment, which was close to the local clinic - the only one in San Francisco where one of the few – still alive - Vulcan healers regularly practiced.

It wouldn't be a fun trip in the slightest, and no doubt he would be in a foul mood when they arrived, but everything was better than seeing Spock withering away on the Enterprise, endangering the whole crew and himself.

He was under no illusions that returning to Earth would fix it all and now with Kirk accompanying them on their journey it wouldn't get less complicated, but it was their last chance. Spock's last chance.

"Alright. Tell you what. I'll give you a light sedative. We'll try codeine this time. M'Benga recommended it – no nauseating side effects for Vulcans. Sleep's the best thing for you right now."

He didn't wait for a response - because there didn't seem to be one coming – he rewrapped Spock's back and torso with clean bandages and dressed Spock with the same gentle movements he had cleaned the Vulcan's thin body and then watched the hypo take Spock down.

Kirk came into sickbay after - for the foreseeable future - last shift as a captain to find Spock dry-heaving into the toilet while McCoy knelt down next to him, speaking in low, soothing tones as he massaged him between sharp shoulder blades with a reassuring hand.

Neither of them seemed to notice Kirk standing in the doorway to the cleaning unit – which was attached to the sickbay room – Spock was staying in for the last days. The captain felt suddenly like an uninvited witness of an intensely private moment. He also felt startlingly angry.

He was so angry that Spock didn't jerk away from McCoy's touch. Angry that Spock didn't seem to be afraid of McCoy, didn't detest the doctor when he so very much detested Kirk. Angry that it was McCoy's and not his comfort which Spock's seemed to accept so easily. Angry that Spock seemed to trust McCoy when he didn't trust Kirk.

"What's going on?" Kirk asked snappily. "What happened?"

The curved line of Spock's bony back tensed as soon as he heard Kirk's voice. His face was flushed green, his eyes glassy and wet. The green tinge of his hollow cheeks – Kirk assumed – was partly an involuntary reaction to having been vomiting for the last couple of minutes and partly a sign of Spock's embarrassment to be caught in such a vulnerable situation.

Alert by Kirk's voice McCoy looked up from his crouched position and said: "Everything's fine, Jim. Our Vulcan here only had an adverse reaction to the painkiller I gave him and instead of calling me - he dragged himself to the cleaning facilities where I found him. It's all M'Benga's fault – 'No sideeffects for Vulcans, my ass'…"

Before Kirk could respond, another wave of nausea hit Spock and the Vulcan again bend over the toilet bowl – coughing and spiting and shaking with the effort to expel the little food he had eaten. McCoy continued to stroke his back soothingly – like always – trying to avoid direct skin to skin contact when touching him.

The older man looked concerned. Kirk knew it could be dangerous for Vulcans to get sick in that manner. Vulcans - as a desert species - had a reduced gag reflex and whereas that decreased their chance of dehydration – it was certainly easier for them to choke on their own vomit if they should get sick.

"Jim, it would be the best if you would leave and come back later…" McCoy raised an arm and made a dismissive motion with his hand.

Another wave of resentment flushed through Kirk's body and he knew he should be grateful that McCoy was there for Spock but he couldn't. He couldn't be grateful. Jealousy was eating at him and Kirk was disgusted by himself.

"Jim, it really would be the best-"

"Okay, okay..I'll go then…leave you guys alone..," Kirk interrupted quietly. "Thank you, Bones for…"

"No problem, kid."

Kirk hoped that he sounded more sincere as he felt.

Kirk hovered as they made their limping way down the corridor. Spock insisting that he needed no wheelchair for the short distance from the turbolift to the shuttle – where McCoy and the rest of the crew were already waiting for them. "Ask me if you're an idiot, Spock," The human said, too mildly.

"Am I an idiot," Spock said obligingly.

"Yes. You're. I don't know what you think you're doing, refusing your pain medication today…and then the thing with the wheelchair…"

'It is illogical to waste resources on a hopeless cause; on a life which has lost all value', Spock wanted to say but he remained silent.

"You know you can't stay on the Enterprise…. "

Spock did not answer.

"Sweetheart," Kirk said, stopping. He looked pained. "Whatever you're trying to do, or prove, stop it. It's enough, okay? Is it about you and me? I get it, that I was-"

"Do not dare to say now that you were 'wrong'."

"I didn't want to say that. Maybe you should go alone with Bones…Maybe we should part-"

"Part? Go?" Spock's body clenched automatically and suddenly dormant nerves fired, indignant. "Go where, captain?" Where am I going to go? My home is destroyed. My mother, my father, my husband – my mate – are dead. I am a danger to the crew and I am unable to fulfil my duties. I have destroyed your life as I have destroyed many others. My existence is meaningless. But I am now tied to you. I cannot leave. Even if I wished too. Never.

Silence. It did not feel like a victory.

"I made my choice," Kirk said suddenly. "I don't regret it. I will never regret saving your life."

'You made your choice', Spock thought. 'I was not allowed to make mine.'