Title: The Vigil: McCoy
Author: Istannor 
Series : TOS
Part: 1/1
Rating NC I7 implied m/m and language
Synopsis: Set during the second five year voyage after Spock
has declared his intentions to bond with Kirk and Kirk has
refused, adamantly and repeatedly out of fear of causing
Spock to die like all those who went before. Kirk has been
injured on a routine diplomatic mission and during his
recovery everyone has thoughts on what should happen for
Kirk and Spock in the future. This is McCoy's voice.

These are the characters of paramount and viacom, they own
them I only check 'em out from the library. I promise to
bring 'em back.


THE VIGIL: McCoy



One day I won't be able to take this anymore. One day it
will break me. Why does he do this to me? Damn, and double
damn. I detest this. I sit here and I watch the monitor for
changes in his vital signs. I sit here and I watch to make
sure that this time I didn't fuck up. What if I did? What if
he dies? What will I do?  How will I face myself... and
worst of all, how will I face Spock?

I know I'm a Doctor, but that doesn't mean that I am so
frigging unfeeling that it doesn't matter who I doctor on.
Next time for sure, I'll let M'Benga work on him. Not me,
somebody else... Yeah, right.

I don't think I can take much more of this.

His chest moves up and down, up and down. I have him on
total life support. He can't even pee without my go ahead.
But he can die without my permission. He can die and destroy
me, forever.

'I'll be careful. I promise, Bones.' What a bunch of crock.
He has no more concept of self preservation than  a rock.
What is it that makes him think he is worth so much less
than anybody else? What makes him think it always has to be
him, only him in danger? Again and again, he uses his life,
his body to throw at danger. Let somebody else risk it all
sometimes, dammit. 

I don't know what in his life made him this way. I've
studied his psych profile, all his records, nothing gives me
a clue. Who made him the savior of humanity? Who made him
the last man out? What kind of demon is he fighting?  I
wonder if I'll ever know? Personally, I think  he falsified
his psych profile, just like he rigged the computer for the
Kobayashi Maru. I think he has never told anyone the truth
about his past, or about Tarsus. Sometimes, I wonder if he
and Kahn hated each other so much, because Jim was
genetically engineered, too. If so, someone did a more
subtle job with Jim. I think he is an iceberg ; all the
jagged edges that drive him, are hidden under deep, cold
water. 

Doesn't matter, he keeps doing it; Spock keeps bringing him
home for me to heal. Tag team Kirk care, Spock tags off and
I put Jim back together. Then, I stay up all night and day
until I know, for sure, that this time we'll live. Damn, why
did I say 'we'll live?' Be honest, Leonard. Its because ever
since I came on this ship I have been more alive than ever
before. I am more alive than I ever will be if I lose him. 

Damn. The blood pressure is dropping out a little, don't
like that, maybe I missed a bleeder. No, it's okay. Blood
count is stable, rhythm is regular. His heart is perfect, it
can take the stress, but can mine? I'm getting too old for
this.

Do you know what it feels like to have your hands in the
warm guts of your best friend, the person you love more than
any other? No one has ever been as close to me as Jim. I saw
his blood welling up from the ragged edges of the center of
his gut today. His blood, pulsing, rich, and warm like him.
Bursting to be free, like him. My stomach gripped me so hard
I thought I'd pass out. It hurt to breathe. I can't lose
him, if I do I'll have nothing. Even my daughter Joanna, who
I love dearly, has never made me feel as alive as this man.

Before I put him under, he was still awake enough to talk to
me. Spock was holding Jim so tightly, I had to push him back
to see the wound. Spock had his hand over it, trying to slow
down the bleeding, holding Jim's guts in his hands. Jim
turned and somehow he could still focus. Every time he
moved, you could see he was in agony. I could tell that
Spock was messing with his mind to cut the pain, which meant
Spock was feeling his pain, too. I am so afraid, sometimes,
that I'll lose them both, together, like they live. In the
middle of it all, Jim smiled at me, for Crissakes. There was
blood welling up from his gut. I was trying to stabilize him
before he bled out on the floor. He looked up at me and
told me not to worry. His smile was one of his real smiles,
the ones that makes a person want to do anything for him.
Anything. No member of the crew will ever let him down after
one of 'those smiles'. 

He had two holes in his gut from some  angry idiot and his
cronies, on the wart of a planet we're orbiting. They tried
to kill the Ambassador, because the damn fool insulted them.
Jim tried to warn the idiot, but he wouldn't move, probably
too busy crapping in his pants. So, Jim jumped in front of
the man, pushed him out of the way and killed the first guy.
Spock told me it was the second guy that got Jim.

Chekov said Spock moved so fast he blurred around the edges,
but he was too late to stop the knife from plunging into
Jim. Spock killed the second guy, in a most definitive
fashion. Spock performed Tal'shaya; he broke the man's neck
in one move. Mess with Jim and you get to see a real pissed
Vulcan. Don't ever piss off a Vulcan. Even I ain't gonna kid
him about that. 

That idiot of an Ambassador is fine. I should give him a
case of  Argellian jock itch. Jim told him those folks were
dangerous and he wouldn't listen. Just an asshole and a
glory hound. Yeah, I could give him a mild rash, short
lived, but real itchy.  He deserves it. Nah, Jim will figure
out I did it; I'd never hear the end of it. That is one
tempting idea.

Oxygen saturation is fine. Temperature normal. White count
climbing, though. Don't like the levels of endorphins. Shit!
Look at the leuketrione level. I think I'll add a little
immunostimulant. Probably a dirty knife. Intestinal bacteria
I can handle, it's these goddamn alien bacteria you always
have to really chase.

I know I'm a damn good doctor, probably  a brilliant
surgeon. That don't mean  I always want this boy pushing me
to my limits. I still call him a boy. Gotta stop that. He's
more than full grown. He carries this ship and most of
Starfleet's dreams on his back. But, when I get him in here,
and watch him sleep after patching him up one more time, he
looks like a boy. A sweet innocent beautiful boy, like the
son I would've had, if I had been given a choice, instead of
an unfaithful wife. Shoot, be real Leonard,  this man could
have never come from my little swimmers. 

This is my body as much as it is his, probably more. He only
uses it, I have cellular knowledge of it. I love it more
than he does. I have held his heart in my hands and felt it
beating. I have pulled knives and spears out of it. I mend
it and he just runs out there and throws it in front of
something else. Then, he wakes up and smiles, and says,
thanks Bones. That's all, thanks Bones. It's as if he didn't
almost die, again. 

I've tried. Spock's tried. It's no use. He acts like he's
invincible. Dammit if I don't half believe it now. It's like
the Enterprise has two power sources: the matter-antimatter
drive in engineering, and the super nova that sits the
center seat on the bridge. He burns and radiates energy and
we all suck it up like leeches. 

Sometimes, I've seen his fires get low, like coals, just
glowing not flaring any more. That's when I used to get
scared for us all. Then he would get this strange smile and
close his eyes and go somewhere deep. You could see him do
it, gather himself like a force of nature. 

Ever been to a southern barbecue? When the coals get too
low, and more company just arrived, you have to flame the
coals. We were real old fashioned in Georgia. We still used
an accelerant, called lighter fluid, kinder to the ozone
than the original, though. You throw some of that stuff on
the coals and whoosh, conflagration. Jim can do that, to
himself. Whoosh, there's our own personal supernova, flaming
again.

None of us have any will anymore. He has us all snookered
and following him around like seven day pound puppies,
knowing that if it weren't for him freeing us, we'd still be
at the pound on that eighth day. The eighth day is when they
put the strays down, kill them, dead.

Damn, I'm getting slap happy.

Spock. Poor, stupid,  Vulcan. He has been bitten the worst,
I think. Jim owns that man's very essence and doesn't know
what to do with it now. I saw it coming. When I joined the
ship after Gary died, I could tell that the Vulcan watched
him like a man starving for a meal. Jim was so kind to him.
I have never seen anyone be as patient and kind to a person
in my life. Turns out Jim used to train Appaloosas with his
grandfather on the farm in Iowa. Appaloosas nowadays are so
smart that they almost are capable of speech. Who would've
thought training wild horses would get you ready for
skittish Vulcans? 

It's gotten so Spock  purposefully does things just to get
Jim to smile at him. I can understand that, Jim's smiles are
wondrous. They warm you to your core and make you feel
special like you just got laid and it lasted all night long.
Jim smiles at you with his soul, not his face. The poor
Vulcan bastard  never had a friend in his life before, and
here the most desirable, brightest, star in Starfleet is
offering him unconditional friendship. I watch them now.
Spock tries to act like he hasn't fallen in love with his
Captain, and Jim allows him the room to do so.

Spock hovers and Jim smiles, and every once in a while,
he'll just touch the Vulcan, lightly, or hold his wrist
while he's talking to him. Then, he'll go on with what he's
doing. Spock gets so green  and  Jim acts like he doesn't
see it. I wonder if Spock knows you can see him almost get a
hard-on every time Jim touches him?  Vulcan tamer. 

I really can't tell what Jim wants. I don't think he knows
yet. Once he decides, that will be it. It will go the way
that he decides, it always does. The universe seems to mold
itself to his need. It is probably hard for him, to decide
to fall in love with a man. I know he thinks of himself as
totally heterosexual. He loves women, and, god, they love
him. You can smell them get hot when he walks into the room.
His eyes get this strange  dark green, with golden streaks
of lightening. He smiles and his body shifts, relaxes. Then,
you can smell his passion and hear whispers. Lemmings, he
stands in a room and calls them to the precipice, and they
come.

I've seen men chase after him before, lots of times. He is
always very polite and appreciative, and sends them away
feeling charmed by the refusal. Sometimes, I think he's
practicing with them, getting used to the idea. He always is
very thorough. But, those men he didn't love, and he loves
Spock. He's too honest to deny that. Even if he's not in
love with him, yet.

When it finally happens, and my money is on it happening,
the whole universe is gonna hear this sound like two
continental plates finally coming together, and fitting,
seamlessly. Where will I be then? Probably crushed between
them, too frigging stupid, and slow, to move out of the way.

Look at him sleeping. Can hardly tell that I spent three
hours in surgery sealing him back up. I keep trying to put
him back like god made him. I sometimes can't help sitting
here looking at him, staring at him, wondering what it would
feel like to hear his breath in my ear. Damn...if it's gonna
be, it'll be Spock. He's the only one with the strength to
survive the flames. Jim would destroy me. But sometimes I
dream.

I sealed all the wounds, even the smallest punctures. I am
always so careful. I don't think I'm intentionally more
careful on Jim, but with him it is like being able to work
on David, by Michelangelo. He is so perfect in my mind. I
can't be the one that finally ruins his perfection. I can't
be the one that mars his beauty. Beauty... if he heard me
say that, he'd probably knock me square up side my head. He
hates being called beautiful. He hates being called
handsome. He's both. 

I sent Spock back to his cabin to rest. He won't be gone for
more than two hours at the 
most. That damn Vulcan won't admit it to me, but he's
smitten. I know it. Damn the whole crew knows it. All they
see is a reflection of their thoughts. Jim's the reality and
everyone else is the reflection. 

The few who are real honest admit to being envious. Spock is
gonna have what all of us want. Yeah, all of us. He'll have
Jim; Jim's time; Jim's friendship; Jim's trust; Jim's
passion. What will  I have? Damn. Stop that, Leonard McCoy.
Jim is my best friend. I know that. But, Jim and Spock are
each other's violins. You can hear them drawing together.
It's different. They live in each other's minds. I spend
terrified nights watching over Spock's heart and my soul.
Scratch that. I must be getting tired. I meant to say, my
patient. 

I'm his doctor and his friend. It has to be enough. It's all
I'll ever get. At least I get to touch him here.

Shh, Jim, don't move. You just need a little extra
sedation... yep that's enough.  The pain's waking him up.
I'll give him a little more nuomorph.  Look how he moves,
even in his sleep.

Jim, you're gonna be fine. Just fine, I can't allow you to
be anything less. You are never gonna die while I'm here.
Never. I will not  allow it. If me and that damn Vulcan have
to blast away the gates of hell to drag you back, we will. I
suspect you know that.

 ........

Hey, Spock, you're back early. I saved you a seat.
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