Chapter Text
If there were two people Jim couldn't envision living his life without, they would undoubtedly be his First Officer and CMO.
Spock and Bones were his sounding boards, his counterweights, his friends, and his family. They were the men who kept him on the straight and narrow, the men who were there for him no matter what.
He aimed to be the same for them, but lying awake most nights, the burden of an entire ship's worth of people and the decisions he had to make over the course of the day heavy on his shoulders, he wasn't certain he'd ever measure up to them the same way.
They always forgave him for his mistakes, his moments of harsh words, always seemed to understand where he was coming from and showed him compassion in ways that challenged and inspired him.
Jim felt selfish sometimes, but usually, he was just overwhelmed with gratefulness for the two of them. Often, he wished he were a better friend, that he helped them even half as much as they helped him. In private moments, he’d indulge his fantasies of being able to take Spock and Bones off ship, just the three of them. They’d sit around a fire somewhere, sharing food and stories, enjoying one another’s company.
Maybe more than that, one day.
But regardless, he needed them and he hoped they knew it.
It was these thoughts still vaguely swirling in the back of Jim's mind (as they always did) while they prepared to beam down to the planet of the week, intending to find out whether it would be a suitable location for shore leave.
Jim had been sensing the crew getting antsy, noticed the slight uptick of reported argumentative incidents between officers (not to mention everything that went unreported) and decided the best course of action was some much needed R and R.
Bones had been getting a bit snippier, too, and even Spock (Vulcan, hyper-professional Spock), was tense. Jim could tell he would benefit from some time spent mindlessly scanning flora and fauna. Perhaps the same would go for Bones as well, though Jim also intended to have a proper drink with his friend as a jokingly mandatory addition to shore leave.
“Everyone ready?” Jim asked, glancing around the room where Scotty stood at the transporter controls, one of his technicians at his side, while Spock was just finishing recalibrating his tricorder, Bones next to him.
“Yes, Captain,” Spock replied. Bones bounced on his heels and gave a small nod, clearly holding back his typical reticence to use the technology in favor of his interest in shore leave.
“Alright, let’s go.”
Jim hopped onto the pad and his friends followed, one on either side of him. He couldn’t help the brief swell of pride he always felt at the knowledge of Spock and Bones’ support, their willingness to follow him anywhere.
“Energize.”
“Aye, sir.” Within seconds, Scotty had engaged the machinery and the familiar feeling of the transporter’s beam overtook them in a shimmer of light.
* * *
"Looks nice enough," Bones commented in the moments after they'd finished rematerializing, reaching for his tricorder at the exact same time Spock did.
"I believe it will require further investigating, Doctor. I sincerely doubt simple observation will reveal everything about this planet," Spock replied dryly, eyes on the screen of his tricorder.
Jim smiled to himself as Bones shot him an indignant look. "Obviously, Mr. Spock. I wasn't actually suggesting—”
"Alright, alright," Jim interjected, no real heat in his tone. "Let's fan out a little and take a look at things. Stay within communication range."
"Yes, sir," Spock said as Bones responded with, "Okay, Jim."
The two of them headed in opposite directions, respective devices making their familiar high-pitched whirring sounds as they scanned the environment. Jim wasn't necessarily a science guy himself, though he understood the basics. He left the actual data gathering and its subsequent interpretation to his competent subordinates and conducted a visual inspection of their surroundings instead (for which he could already hear Spock's earlier sentiments echoing in his mind with some amusement).
It was a nice place, as Bones had noted, with green grass, pleasant flowers, and tall, leafy trees abundant everywhere Jim looked. He heard the humming of unseen insects, the cheerful chirping of birds high above him, and occasionally felt the warmth of the sun when he stepped through patches of it unhindered by the foliage.
Their initial readings of the planet had detected only small lifeforms, nothing that had registered as sentient or particularly dangerous, but of course, that was why they were there: to find out whether that was true or not.
After several minutes of walking and admiring the sights, Jim paused beneath the nearest tree, retrieved his comm, and flipped it open.
"Kirk to Spock."
"Spock here."
"Come across anything alarming?"
There was a brief moment’s pause before Spock responded.
"Nothing yet, Captain. Everything on this planet appears quite harmless."
"Good. Check in again in ten minutes. We'll beam back up to the ship then."
"Acknowledged."
Jim adjusted one of the dials on his comm as he prepared to contact Bones.
"Don't bother, Jim, I followed ya."
He looked up to find his friend with a wide grin on his face, tricorder back on its strap around his shoulder as he walked towards him at a leisurely pace.
"Oh, I thought you'd gone off another direction," Jim said, surprised, but not displeased to see his friend as he replaced his comm.
"Ah, just a little," Bones said, dismissive. "Thought you might like this, though." He proudly presented a small golden flower to Jim from behind his back, grin growing softer. "Don't worry, I checked it. You're not allergic."
"Thank you, Bones," Jim replied with genuine pleasure, reaching out to take it from him and get a closer look. "Almost seems like a Bachelor's Button."
"It does, doesn't it?" Bones bounced on his heels again, tone thoughtful, and looked perfectly at ease amongst the nature around them, as if he'd just emerged from the trees themselves to greet Jim. "Y'know, I could get used to a place like this."
"So could I," Jim agreed, Bones' clear contentment flooding his chest with warmth. "It's nice to see you enjoying it."
"I bet Spock is, too, though he'd never admit it," Bones said, affable amusement in his tone. "Even Vulcans need a break sometimes, that's what I keep telling him."
"I guess you'll just have to trick him into resting, Bones. That's what you do with me."
Bones smiled even more fondly as he rolled his eyes. "If Spock and I didn't bug you about taking time off, you never would, Jim."
"True, I suppose."
"Where is he, anyway?"
Jim glanced around, half expecting Spock to melt away from the background scenery and join him much as Bones had, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"I don't know. I told him to reach out again in ten minutes. It's probably been about half that by now."
"You wanna wait that long?"
"Why, are you worried?" Jim questioned curiously. Bones shrugged.
"Not really, but you two have a knack for getting into trouble."
"I'm sure he's alright."
Bones chuckled. "I dunno, Jim, I think you're underestimating—”
Jim's comm chirped and he quickly reached for it, shaking his head at his friend with affectionate exasperation as he flipped it open again.
"Kirk here."
"Captain, I..." Spock's voice came across strained. Jim couldn't tell if there was interference or if he'd simply trailed off.
"Spock? Spock, are you alright?"
Bones' smile morphed to a frown, his easygoing demeanor rapidly replaced with his doctor's persona. When no immediate reply followed, Jim's newfound concern grew. Perhaps Bones had been right.
"Spock? Spock, answer me!"
"I apologize... I seem... to have—” Spock cut himself off with a pained gasp.
"Spock!"
Bones met Jim's gaze with the same sudden fear he felt mirrored in the other's expression.
"Jim," Bones said insistently, but Jim was already hailing the ship.
"Kirk to Enterprise."
"Scott here," came the quick answer.
"Do you read Mr. Spock?"
There was moment's silence, then, "Ship's scanners are pickin' up on 'im, sir, but he's not answerin' his comm."
"Can you beam him up?"
"Aye, I can."
"Do it. Beam us up, too."
The shimmer of the transporter beam overtook them again and their surroundings disappeared.
* * *
“McCoy to bridge.”
“Bridge here.”
“Jim… you better come down to sickbay.”
After a short pause, Jim said curtly, “I’m on my way.”
There was no waver in his voice, but McCoy knew him well enough to be sure he would’ve heard it if Jim were a lesser man.
Spock lay on a biobed, almost serene-looking, hair unruffled, hands resting on his stomach and eyes closed. It disturbed McCoy, the contrast between Spock’s earlier agony and his complete lack of expression now. Whatever happened had obviously taken a toll on the Vulcan.
“Look, I know you’re awake, so you can cut the act, alright?” McCoy bit out, more harshly than he’d intended for all the worry he was trying to mask.
“I was not intentionally attempting to appear unconscious, Doctor.”
McCoy sighed and checked the dosage of the hypo he held. It wasn’t a placebo, but with as little information as he had at that juncture, it may as well have been. A minor muscle relaxant, designed only to offer a small physical relief from the discomfort McCoy was sure Spock was experiencing far worse than he cared to let on.
“Spock, if you keep tryin’ to regulate your own pain, I can’t be sure what’s happened with you. You’re gonna have to let yourself feel it for a minute and tell me where it hurts,” McCoy said, more gentle than his previous comment, but carefully measured.
Spock didn’t take well to being babied or mollycoddled, McCoy understood. Ironically, if he felt he was being fussed over, he became even more petulant. Thus, McCoy needed to tread carefully if he were to find an actual way to treat his stubborn Vulcan patient.
And unfortunately, his tricorder and scanners held no answers for him. Whatever had affected Spock down on that planet was a mystery. Spock himself would have to help identify the issue.
“Very well, Doctor. I shall do my best.”
The sickbay doors abruptly swished open to reveal Jim in all his dramatic glory striding through them with the purpose of a man on a mission.
“Bones, status report,” he ordered, coming to a stop next to the biobed, hazel eyes scanning Spock up and down with focused intensity.
“That’s the problem, Jim. I haven’t figured it out.”
Jim glanced up, gaze sharp. “Why not?”
“Well, first of all, either every single one of my instruments is malfunctionin’ simultaneously, or…” McCoy trailed off, worrying his lip between his teeth as he fidgeted with the hypo he’d not used yet.
“Or?” Jim prompted.
McCoy shook his head helplessly as he met Jim's eyes again. “Or whatever Spock ran into down there is something we haven’t encountered before. And your Vulcan first officer’s bein’ a pain again.”
“I already agreed to be compliant, Doctor,” Spock piped up, prompting an eye roll from McCoy.
“And how are we gettin’ on with that, Spock? Any updates for me?”
“Relinquishing Vulcan control over one’s own body is hardly a simple, nor swift, process. I require time. And silence.”
McCoy snorted, then opened his mouth to offer another jab, but Jim raised a hand to cut him off.
“That’s enough, gentlemen. Spock, if you need time, take it. Bones, keep a close eye on him. Update me the minute anything changes. I’ll be on the bridge.”
And with that, Jim had swept out of the room again, taking with him all the tense, high-strung energy he’d brought. McCoy would probably need to have a drink with him later to help the man decompress a little, he mused.
But Spock was his priority right now. He glanced back to the Vulcan where he lay. The monitor registered his respiration, heart rate, brain waves, and other functions as normal. McCoy didn’t trust it.
Setting aside the hypo, he asked, “Spock, would you mind terribly if I tested your temperature the old fashioned way?”
“By means of physical touch, I presume?”
“Just your forehead.”
Spock, eyes still closed, shifted slightly on the biobed. “That is acceptable,” he said, tone unreadable.
McCoy carefully, lightly, laid a palm on Spock’s forehead. Vulcans tended to run hotter than humans. This Vulcan in particular actually seemed a little on the cool side, and concerningly so.
McCoy frowned to himself and retracted his hand.
"Spock, when exactly are we going to hear about what happened to you down there?"
"Obviously, Doctor, I have not had the time to write a full report," Spock said blandly.
"Right," McCoy muttered to himself, sarcastic, as if that had just occurred to him. "Well. You call me if you remember anything that seemed out of the ordinary, anything you came into contact with, touched, breathed, or otherwise, alright?"
"Understood."
"I'll come back to check on ya in a bit."
* * *
Spock could sense the Captain's worry radiating from somewhere to his left and several decks above him, as well as the doctor’s, only a room away, which was excessively potent from the closer proximity (and due to McCoy's natural caring tendencies).
Try as he did to rationalize it, to tell himself their concern meant nothing to him, that it was illogical, he could not help but appreciate them.
He didn't fully understand what had occurred. One moment, Spock had been observing a peculiar insect he had never encountered before, and the next, there had been a searing pain in his mind, so intense he'd nearly been unable to suppress it at all, much less contact the Captain. He'd finally brought it under his control only shortly after transporting back to the ship.
The cause was unclear and even the effects had been difficult to catalogue, his ability to focus on the simplest of things having taken an extraordinary effort of will during the event itself.
Spock was not even certain if the pain was still in his body. He'd suppressed it deeply as a fear response and that same fear he was experiencing to an illogical degree had led him to imply to McCoy that it would require a significant amount of time to let go of his control.
It was not entirely untrue. He feared relinquishing his control again, even for a moment, afraid of the possibility that he might be made to feel the same way he'd felt just hours earlier.
The thought was extremely distressing.
Strangely, he longed for McCoy’s presence again, for him to place his hand back on Spock's forehead, warm and gentle, and reassure him everything would be alright. He wished fervently that Jim would return and give him that small smile he always did when Spock had said or done something he found endearing.
Spock had never wanted for the both of them to be so close before as he did then, comforting him and looking after him. Perhaps it was a very un-Vulcan desire, but regardless, he felt it.
The door to the sickbay swished open and there was a small glimmer of hope that it might be Jim come back to check on him again, unable to stay away for long. Spock quickly suppressed it when he sensed the Captain had yet to move from the bridge.
“Mr. Spock?”
Ah, it was Nurse Chapel. She was not unwelcome, even if she wasn’t one of the people he’d wanted to see.
“Nurse,” he replied without inflection, opening his eyes to see her standing beside the biobed, her expression full of kind concern.
“I’ve just come to check on your vitals again,” she said, gaze flicking to the readouts above him.
Spock wondered if McCoy had sent her or if she was merely acting out of her own worry. He was well aware of the feelings she’d held for him over the years, but was entirely unable to reciprocate them. More recently, Spock found he could not begrudge her for having them, enamored as he was beginning to find himself with the two men closest to him.
It would have been hypocritical.
“Everything seems to be normal,” Chapel muttered, as if to herself. Her tone was as skeptical as McCoy’s had been. “Are you feeling any differently from earlier?”
“I am not.”
Little by little, Spock was slowly relinquishing his control. The pain he’d felt before had yet to make an appearance.
“We’ll check on you again soon,” she promised. “Try to get some rest.”
Alone in the sickbay, Spock found her request somewhat difficult to carry out. Once again, he wished for the comfort of Jim and McCoy.
* * *
Jim’s eyes glazed over as he stared at the PADD in front of him, certain he’d read and reread the same sentence no less than fifteen times. All he could think about was Spock, what could have happened to him down on that planet, and Bones, how worried he must’ve been, his own night likely to be as sleepless as Jim’s.
With a sigh, Jim ran a hand down his face and set aside the PADD resignedly. He needed to check on them or else, he’d lie awake and worry with nothing to do about it.
The walk down to sickbay was simultaneously long and short, his thoughts consumed as his feet took him there on autopilot. He gave short nods to the crew members he passed as they saluted respectfully, trying to keep up the appearance of the ever-reliable Captain.
In time, Jim came to his destination, doors swishing aside so quickly for him, it was as if they’d just been waiting for his arrival. The lights were dimmed, the beeping of the monitors shut off unless there was an emergency.
Spock’s supine form lay still on the biobed, looking nearly the same as Jim had seen him earlier. He came quietly to his side, not wishing to wake him, but unable to help himself from gently gripping Spock’s arm just above the sleeve of his sickbay clothes.
The Vulcan appeared asleep, if nothing else. His face was just as expressionless as it usually was in his waking hours, but unless Jim was hallucinating, he thought he saw perhaps the slightest relaxation in Spock’s body, a small tension that left him at Jim’s touch. It was difficult to tell in the low light.
Jim reluctantly released his arm, mourning the loss of contact, and headed to Bones’ office, knowing the man had yet to go to his quarters even though it was well past his shift. As expected, that’s where he was, half-full glass in one hand, chin resting in the other as he gazed at the computer. Jim could hardly imagine how Bones was able to stare at it for even a minute considering how bright the damn screen was. He didn’t even look up when Jim came in.
“Bones.”
“Mm?”
“What are you doing? It’s late.”
Jim let the door shut behind him and crossed his arms, trying to seem stern. It didn’t work, if Bones’ completely unperturbed lack of interest was anything to go by.
”Researching, Jim. Tryin’ to figure out if there’s a precedent for what’s happening with Spock.”
“Weren’t we just talking earlier today about how I work too much?”
“Mm-hm,” Bones responded distractedly. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you, Doctor McCoy? Spock and I aren’t the only ones who need rest.”
At the use of his title, Bones finally glanced up, a small trace of guilt in his bleary-eyed expression.
“I can’t just leave him like this, Jim,” he said, almost apologetically. “Even if he’s never affected by whatever happened to him again, it’ll drive him nuts not knowin’ what it was.”
“Have you spoken to him about it?” Jim asked curiously, wondering if Spock had given Bones more to work with in his absence.
Bones sighed, shook his head, and took a long swig of his drink. Jim waited for his answer patiently, moving to the cabinet where the doctor kept his less official “cures” and removing another glass with a bottle of what he assumed to be the same kind of brandy Bones was having. After he set the glass down on the desk, uncorked the bottle and began to pour, Bones spoke again.
“He couldn’t tell me much. My best guess is an environmental cause, but that means lots of testin’ and potentially exposin’ him to something that could be dangerous to him. And I’m worried about any long-term effects he could have from what he’s been exposed to already. I just don’t know yet.”
Jim swirled the liquid in his glass and took an experimental sip, nodding in approval at the pleasant burn down his throat before saying hoarsely, “Bones, you’re not going to get anywhere working yourself half to death.”
The doctor shot him a wry look and reached for the bottle Jim had left open.
“Maybe not. But you’re here, too, aren’t you?”
“Fair enough,” Jim replied, lips curling upward in a small smile. “But I think I have the far more viable excuse of coming down here to give my CMO an unofficial warning before I’m forced to order him.”
“And just what exactly do you intend to order me to do, Jim?” Bones asked coyly, blue eyes twinkling.
“To sleep.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh yes, I would, Doctor. I would indeed,” Jim said, tone playful and affectionate.
Bones let out a soft laugh and lifted his glass in a silent cheers. Jim did the same, the two of them happily sharing their quiet moment with one another and making no move to leave right away.
* * *
Spock had been unable to fall asleep the entire night, turning over the strange problem that even McCoy, with all his skill, was thus far unable to understand. As such, he’d heard the sickbay door open, sensed Jim’s familiar presence as he quietly approached, and felt the warmth of the man’s gentle touch on his arm.
With everything in him, Spock just barely managed to restrain himself from reacting even as he was filled with an emotion he struggled to name. Perhaps it was gratitude.
Then Jim had left to spend time with McCoy and the two didn’t depart from the CMO’s office until a little over an hour and a half later.
By then, Spock had made up his mind. Though the two men’s fondness for one another had saturated the space, as they came near to Spock’s biobed again to check on him, worry had replaced it almost entirely. Spock could not allow that to continue. Jim and McCoy needed him and neither of them would be able to focus until he’d resolved his own issue.
To do so would require him to return to the planet, regardless of its inherent risks.
This meant sneaking out of sickbay without attracting the attention of anyone (or anything, as in the case of the monitors and sensors) who might attempt to prevent him, then gathering his equipment to further study whatever he might encounter, and finally, beaming himself down before any wayward engineers noticed his actions and commed their superiors. Or worse, before Mr. Scott himself found Spock.
The plan was potentially illogical. He didn’t care. His captain and CMO relied on a fully functioning first officer at all times and therefore, action on his part was necessary.
At any cost.
* * *
McCoy woke abruptly in a cold sweat, flashes of panic racing through him like it’d used to with the anxiety attacks he’d long since medicated. Something was deeply wrong. He could feel it in his bones.
He just didn’t know what.
Quickly, he peeled the clammy sheets off of him, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stumbled over to the comm on the wall, hitting the button with a shaky hand.
“McCoy to sickbay.” His voice came out with more of a tremor in it than he’d have liked, rough and heavy with sleep.
“Chapel here,” came her immediate answer.
“Have you checked on Spock recently?”
“…I did, Doctor.” Her tone was hesitant, concerned. “Is everything alright?”
“Would ya check again?” McCoy asked plaintively, fear shooting through him at the very thought of Spock’s condition, whatever it was, having worsened while he lay asleep in his own quarters, oblivious to his stubborn patient.
“Yes, Doctor,” Chapel said, calm and steady, then the connection cut off.
McCoy leaned heavily against the wall, pulse barely slowing as he tried to soothe his thoughts with the breathing techniques Spock had taught him over the years. After long seconds of waiting without further communication from Chapel, he pushed away from it again to find his uniform, certain now that he’d need it.
“Computer, lights, fifty percent,” he ordered, pulling his undershirt over his head from where it’d lay on his desk chair.
The comm beeped again and he rushed to finish dressing before moving back to the wall, another flare of worry threatening to overwhelm him.
“McCoy here.”
“Doctor, I don’t know what happened, but…”
Dread settled like a stone in his gut at the sound of Chapel’s disbelief.
“What is it, Nurse?”
“Mr. Spock is gone.”
“What do you mean, he’s gone?”
“The cameras in the sickbay were disabled about half an hour ago. I have no idea what’s happened, Doctor.”
McCoy sighed and covered his face with a hand, then dragged it down to his chin as he thought.
“It’s not your fault, Chris. Green-blooded fool probably just went back to his quarters,” he grumbled, not sure he meant his own words even as he said them. “We’ll find him. I’ll get the Captain. You round up some nurses and check the rest of the ship.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
* * *
“Jim,” a familiar voice hissed as a door swished closed. “Jim.”
“Bones?” He asked groggily, blinking in the darkness of his quarters from the comfort of his bed. “Is that you?”
“Jim, I need your help. We can’t find Spock.”
Instantly, his sleepiness utterly vanished and he sat bolt upright. “What? Bones, what’s going on?”
“Computer, lights, fifty percent,” Bones barked irritably. Jim squinted in the sudden light, his CMO standing in the middle of his quarters fully dressed, arms crossed with a clearly perturbed expression. “I don’t know, Jim. But he’s not in his room and I have a sneaking suspicion about what he’s up to.”
It didn’t take long for Jim to put the pieces together and reach the same conclusion Bones had.
“Shit. I need to comm Scotty.”
* * *
Spock’s trip back to the planet below was easier than expected. As alpha shift had yet to begin for another hour and a half, crew members were sparse and easily avoided with the help of his superior hearing. Mr. Scott was nowhere to be found and Spock was able to sneak into the transporter room following the departure of one of the technicians without notice.
He chose coordinates not far from their original beam down point and about equal distance from the location he first felt the unexplainable pain, his reasoning being that it would give him time (hopefully) to set up his equipment and mentally prepare himself for whatever he might find.
The sky was in its predawn state as the transporter beam shimmered and faded away, a slight chill in the air, everything around him still and quiet. If Spock were to allow himself to consider it further, he might’ve almost found it foreboding or ominous. Being Vulcan, they were merely datapoints to log away until they became relevant again.
His comm chirped.
He ignored it in favor of hoisting his bag onto his shoulder and setting off in the direction of where the incident had occurred, holding his tricorder out in front of him with the other hand. It scanned nothing unusual, nothing different from their first away mission. Perhaps that was to be expected.
Spock’s comm chirped again, the sound of it loud in the silence between the trees. It was Jim and McCoy, he was sure. He could practically sense their combined worry and frustration, strong even from so far away.
He’d have an answer for them soon.
Unfortunately, if they had already realized his absence (though he was not sure how they would have ascertained it so fast), then he had less time than he’d previously estimated before they were to follow him. It was likely they were preparing to take a shuttle even now.
Still, it would take the two of them some time to reach him. Spock could allow himself some guilt for insubordination later (and the subsequent emotional betrayal Jim and McCoy would feel), when he was back on the ship and could explain his actions.
All would be well. They would surely forgive him once they realized the logic of it.
Or so Spock kept telling himself, anyway.
* * *
“Dammit, Jim! He’s still not answering.”
McCoy experimentally smacked his communicator against the side of the transporter console, as if that could somehow fix what wasn’t actually broken in the device and bring Spock back to them. Scotty shot him a dirty look for it.
That self-sacrificing, pointy-eared idiot probably thought he was doing them all a favor, taking care of the problem by throwing himself into harm’s way yet again. Sometimes, McCoy wondered if it’d just be better to tie Jim and Spock together on the bridge and keep them where he could see them at all times, if for nothing else than to at least slow the two down before they rushed headfirst into danger, as always.
Jim and Spock were his responsibility and clearly, he hadn’t been doing such a great job at keeping an eye on them.
“I know, Bones, I know,” Jim said distractedly, pacing back and forth in the small room as Scotty continued fiddling with the controls. “What the hell is he thinking?”
“I’ll tell you what he’s thinking,” McCoy muttered darkly, allowing himself the brief fantasy of injecting Spock and Jim with trackers. “He’s thinking he can fix every damn thing all by his lonesome, for fuck’s sake. And now the ship’s scanners aren’t even working for some damn reason and the transporter’s all—”
Jim suddenly spun on his heel to fix him with a hard stare.
“And I know what you’re thinking, Bones. This isn’t your fault. Stop blaming yourself.”
McCoy blinked, briefly taken aback by his captain’s insight.
But he really shouldn’t have been surprised. Jim always seemed to understand him better than he understood himself.
“Yeah, well…” McCoy glanced away from Jim’s earnest expression, trying to put a figurative distance between him and all that strength of conviction in his best friend. “I should’a paid more attention. It’s just like him to pull a stunt like this.”
“No, I should have been paying more attention. We need to get down there. Scotty, any updates?”
‘I’m sorry, Cap’n,” Scotty said regretfully, shaking his head in frustration. “It’ll take me at least another hour until ‘m able to fix it.”
“That’ll be too long.”
“Then let’s just take a damn shuttle, Jim!”
“Scotty, keep working on it and keep me updated. Bones, let’s head down to the shuttle bay.”
* * *
Bones was a bundle of nerves the whole way down, clutching his medkit like a lifeline. Internally, Jim wasn’t much better, but he knew it was necessary for him to hold himself together both for Bones and for Spock when they found him.
Jim was the captain. He needed to look after his crew, especially the two men who mattered most to him.
“It’ll be alright, Bones,” Jim said reassuringly, guiding the shuttle through the atmosphere with as much care as he could. “We’ll find him. It’s not too late.”
McCoy glanced over at him with a fear in his eyes Jim rarely ever saw.
“I hope you’re right, Jim. Can’t imagine what we’d do without him.”
Bones was right. Spock’s quiet strength and wisdom lended a stability to Jim and Bones’ moments of recklessness and reactionist tendencies, even when he sometimes made unwise decisions of his own, as he was doing now. The Vulcan was just too important to the both of them to lose.
The shuttle began to shudder slightly as Jim angled it downwards, eyes flicking back and forth between the view screen and the coordinates laid into the map on the console in front of him. In less than a minute, they’d broken through the first several layers of the atmosphere and were speeding towards the grove they’d originally visited, certain that Spock had chosen to beam there or somewhere near it.
“Careful, Jim,” Bones said reflexively, moving his hands to grip the armrests tight.
“Don’t worry, Bones.”
Jim flashed him a small smile and slowed their descent, which seemed to help McCoy relax ever so slightly. He quickly found a clear, grassy area to set the vehicle on and initiated the landing sequence.
Bones let out a long sigh of relief when the engines finally turned off and the doors opened. Jim stood and left the shuttle, then flipped open his comm.
“Kirk to Enterprise.”
“Enterprise here, sir,” Uhura answered.
“We’ve landed successfully. I’ll check in again as soon as possible.”
“Acknowledged.”
As Jim flipped his comm closed, Bones joined his side.
“Jim, we gotta get goin’. Who knows what trouble he’s into by now?” McCoy grumbled, his worry showing through despite his clear attempts to hide it.
“Agreed. We stick together and head in the direction Spock did the first time we came here,” Jim said decisively.
Bones nodded his assent and the two set off, leaving the shuttle to await their return.
* * *
Spock’s tricorder was now picking up on new particles in the air, but unable to fully identify the origin. The flowers all around were beginning to bloom as the sun slowly rose and brightened the sky in increments, painting it orange and yellow. Spock thought it likely that pollen was being released from the flowers, which was logically what the scanner was reading.
As he continued past the area he’d first experienced the phenomenon, this time without issue, the landscape began to change. The trees grew fewer and further apart, making way for more scraggly grass and bushes. Minutes passed and the dirt beneath his feet became harder and dryer, then was replaced entirely by gravel and rock.
At last, he came upon a cliff and still had not encountered anything of use.
Spock paused there to observe the environment. Even without the greenery he’d left behind, there was a rugged beauty to it. The cliff overlooked a valley of stone that reminded him somewhat of the Grand Canyon on Earth, brilliant colors blending one into the next, further illuminated as the sun rose higher.
It bore some similarities to certain places on Vulcan, as well. Spock found it comforting in its way.
But none of the sights gave any further clues into what had affected Spock so. He repressed a sigh of borderline frustration. If he didn’t find something that explained his symptoms within the next half hour, roughly how much time he assumed it would take for Jim and McCoy to reach him, he might as well contact them himself.
They would surely be angry. And Spock felt a strange feeling of loathing towards the thought that he might have disappointed them.
Perhaps this had been a fool’s errand, after all.
* * *
“Jim!” McCoy said excitedly, tricorder beeping as he pointed it ahead of them. “I think I’m picking up Spock’s signal.”
Jim stopped next to him and peered over Bones’ shoulder at the screen he was staring intently at.
“You think?” He repeated dubiously.
“It’s glitching for some reason,” Bones muttered, adjusting some of the dials. “Doesn’t make any sense. It was workin’ just fine a second ago…”
“Bones?” Jim asked, tone laced with concern.
McCoy didn’t respond right away. On a hunch, Jim removed his comm once again, frowning.
“Kirk to Enterprise.”
Static met them. Bones glanced up and met his gaze with a grim look.
“Jim…”
“Kirk to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise,” Jim tried again.
Still more static.
“Fuck,” McCoy said.
“Let’s keep going and try again in a few minutes. Spock might actually be nearby.”
Jim replaced his comm and they continued on once more, past dwindling numbers of trees and shrubbery, grass and dirt gradually turning to rock. The sun was high enough now that everything was bright and easy to see, transitioning from early morning to mid-morning.
McCoy drew in a sudden intake of breath from beside Jim, gaze straight ahead. Alarmed, Jim followed his eye line and saw him: Spock’s silhouette not far away, standing on the edge of a cliff.
“Spock,” Bones breathed out.
“Spock!” Jim called.
The Vulcan turned.
With a quick shared glance between them, Jim and McCoy ran the rest of the way to meet him, every footstep loud against the rock. The moment they got close enough, Jim’s face split into a smile at the very sight of Spock’s familiar impassivity and Bones launched into admonishment.
“Spock, what the hell were you thinking? You could’ve gone hurt again. Are you hurt? Dammit, gimme your arm.”
Spock raised an unimpressed eyebrow even as he extended an arm for Bones to take.
“As you can see, Doctor, I am unharmed.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he announced, carefully rolling up Spock’s sleeve and laying two fingers on his pulse. “Why did you even come down here, Spock? What’s goin’ on with you? We were worried sick. Hell, you even disabled the damn scanners and the transporters just so we wouldn’t follow ya?”
“He’s right, Spock,” Jim interjected gently. “Why wouldn’t you just come to me if you wanted to return? We could’ve worked something out.”
Spock’s brow furrowed slightly. “I disabled neither the ship’s scanners nor the transporter, sir.”
“Well, then, what in the hell—”
Spock abruptly made a pained noise and squeezed his eyes shut tight, dropping the bag he’d had slung over his shoulder just before his hands flew to his temples.
“Spock!” Bones said fearfully, reaching out for him again.
Then disaster struck. The ground beneath them suddenly quaked and cracked, sharp lines deeply embedding themselves in various places at the cliff’s edge. All around them, small pebbles rattled against the stone and the sounds of an earthquake rumbled loud.
“Spock!” Jim echoed Bones’ call, trying to grab onto his other arm to pull him back.
The Vulcan stumbled, eyes still shut. The cracks under his boots grew deeper. Jim’s eyes widened in horror.
Bones seemed to have a firm grip by then on Spock’s uniform sleeve, attempting to stay away from the cracks even as he yanked Spock closer to them. Jim had just managed to wrap his hand around the Vulcan’s bicep when the unthinkable happened.
Spock’s uniform tore in their grasps as the ground disappeared from beneath him, taking their first officer with it. Spock was gone from their view.
“Spock!” Jim and Bones screamed again in unison.
The earthquake only grew more severe and the two fell backwards together to the ground as they both lost their balance.