Thanks to everyone who has read! Reviews and suggestions are welcome!

To answer a message from last time:

SponesShipper - I'm glad you could see my intent clearly! I do ship KSM, but this is a Spones fic through through! Hope you enjoy it!

Practiced fingers prodded gently at the underside of his forearm. He hadn't nicked the artery, but he had been close. If he had gone in from another angle, he wouldn't have survived the night. Grumbling, Leonard replaced the bandages with new ones, glancing nervously toward his office door. He was there against his better judgment. The doctor in his head told him he should be lying down and gathering strength, but he didn't want to get caught without the proper supplies. He couldn't risk calling for help again. So he'd snuck down to Sickbay when he knew there was a good chance the senior staff was on the bridge. He braced himself for a verbal attack by Nurse Chapel, but found Sickbay to be empty and silent.

The lights in his office were brighter than he remembered and he had to squint to see properly. The cut was deep and nasty. Looks like those surgeon hands don't work too well when I'm wasted, he thought grimly, wrapping the last of the jagged line in blinding white gauze. He only had a few minutes to gather supplies before he'd be on the floor again. He ripped off the medical tape with his teeth and slapped it over the wound with a hiss. No time for pain now. He ran over to the supply closet and started digging. More bandages? Check. Hypos? Sleep aid, check. Nausea meds, check. Pain reliever, check.

His hand stopped inches from the bottle's surface. The secret stash he kept in his office. If he took it, nobody would know it was gone. The last of the Saurian Brandy would be able to get him through the night, though it would absolutely wreck his insides. He snatched the bottle from the shelf and turned to make his escape.

"Leonard McCoy."

Suddenly, he was face to face with one of the most terrifying sites he had ever laid eyes on.

"C-Christine."

Nurse Chapel was not a dainty woman. Gorgeous, yes, as the moon over Georgia, and build like a brick shithouse. And she was a hard woman to intimidate. She could have probably beated Leonard in a fight and in his condition she could wrestle him to the floor with one arm. He thought about running, but he knew he wouldn't make it very far. As a natural reaction, his eyes snapped to the door and in a second she had snatched the bottle of Brandy into one hand and taken his good arm in the other.

"Sit down…" she commanded, dragging him gently to his office chair and sitting him down. She was just as bright a medical officer as he was and he knew she'd have no trouble seeing something was wrong with him, even without the stocks of medical supplies in his hand. "Leonard, what is wrong with you?" she asked as she fussed over his newly places bandages.

"Don't touch it!" he hissed at her, pulling his arm away with a small gasp of pain. "I just put the bandages back on! You wanna give me an infection?" Of course, infections were rare to none with the medical equipment they had, and absolutely nothing would have happened if she'd removed the bandage, but he needed to make a distraction. "I had a bit of an accident last night and scraped my arm is all, stop fussing, Christine, sweet Jesus." He avoided her eyes specifically. Chapel had a way of coaxing life stories out of patients and Leonard did not want to break down. Not here. Not to her.

She grumped, crossing her arms over her chest. He could feel her glaring right through him, like he was a child being scolded for staying out too late. "Leonard you have looked worse and worse over the past few weeks. I don't know what's going on with you, but if you don't shape up I'll have to file-"

"I know, Chris," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm fine just…just tired is all." His eyes flicked up to the photo on his desk of a small girl with curly brown hair. The familiar sickening pain welled in his stomach again and he quickly looked away. "Look, I'm gonna go back to my quarters to lie down for a while. I'll take the day off and…be back next Alpha shift." He knew Spock had already told Jim he'd be out for a while, though he prayed to God he didn't tell him why. Christine put a hand on his shoulder - a gesture of sympathy. He ignored it and quickly made his way out the door.

Once in the corridor, he couldn't get the image of Spock out of his mind. That stupid green-blooded goblin was probably doing his work like every other damn officer on the ship, acting as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't found the ship's Chief Medical Officer lying in a puddle of wasted hope and dreams and blood just hours before. As if he hadn't felt the doctor's pain through those insanely delicate fingertips as he bandaged him up, trying not to make contact, not to make a telepathic connection. He pretended none of it happened. Leonard tried not to care. He tried so damn hard, but every time he thought about it he felt like he was fighting back tears. And he hadn't cried since his daddy died. And he wasn't going to today.

And as a last resort, that stupid green elf had told him to think of Jim. Knowing he couldn't keep Leonard from hurting himself for his own sake, or the sake of the crew, he picked what he thought was the most important thing in his life - his captain. If something were to happen to Leonard, not only would Jim be upset, there would be no one to babysit him. And then where would they be after one more mission gone wrong and no one with the medical know-how to fix him?

The guilt trip certainly changed the doctor's mind, at least temporarily, but Leonard couldn't help but notice for such a smart guy, Spock sure was dumb. He had to be blind not to know. The one thing that could keep Leonard from ever doing anything stupid was one little request. It wasn't Jim he really wanted to keep happy. It was-

Bump!

Leonard suddenly swayed and bumped into the wall, grabbing at the panels to keep him steady. He looked around frantically for help, but the corridor was empty. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. His room was only a two doors down. He could make it if he was careful.

One step.

If only Spock would show some sign of emotion. Anything to let him know there was a living creature in there.

Two steps.

He pictured those dark brown eyes, staring down at him, lecturing him on his actions. "You are not fine," he had said. "You are ill."

Three steps.

It was a lot easier to imagine the concern in his voice now. Leonard pictured Spock sitting beside him then and speaking softly. "Don't harm yourself, Leonard. Keep yourself safe. For me."

Four steps.

For him. He'd have done it for him. If he'd only asked.

Five steps.

Leonard keyed in the code and stumbled through the door, dropping the medical supplies on the floor and immediately falling onto his bed.

If only he'd asked.