BEST SPOCK/McCOY FUH-Q FEST

Title: LIVING WITH THE CONSEQUENCES

Author: T'Lin

Series: TOS

Code: S/Mc

Rating: RSummary: My answer to the Challenge made by Holmes:

Spock, thinking he is dying of an incurable disease, or a fatal wound, confesses to McCoy how much he loves him. Of course, this is cowardly of him. He only does it since he knows he'll never have to take the risk of following those words with actions.
Silly Vulcan! The man he loves is only slightly less skilled in curing people than Jesus! Of COURSE, McCoy cures him, and Spock's already regretting what he said...not because he's afraid of sex, but of emotion. What happens now? It could be a comedy or an angstfest, but I hope it'd end happily!

Note: Written for the SpockMcCoyHaven - http://spockmccoyote.tripod.com/

Archiving: ASC, the Den, and my own web page - http://www.oocities.org/tlin_s/ - all others, please ask first.

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom own the TREK universe, I just sneak in every once in a while to play with all these wonderful people. I promise to put everyone back where they belong when I am done. No copyright infringement is intended, nor do I make any money off of my efforts ... this is strictly for pleasure. Although the characters do not belong to me, this original piece of fanfiction is ©T'Lin, April, 2002.

LIVING WITH THE CONSEQUENCES

by T'Lin 0204.13

// there is no pain . . . pain is irrelevant . . . there is no pain . . . the mind rules //

The mantra was a constant thing in Spock's mind, but his human half was proving to be difficult. It was not allowing him to control the pain he was in. He knew he was mortally wounded . . . his lack of control, and inability to initiate a healing trance were indications of this.

It seemed he lay there for hours, but eventually, the pain subsided. Now, however, he was certain of his imminent demise, for a numbing cold seemed to settle over him. He felt detached from his surroundings . . . separate from the shell that was his body.

From a great distance, he heard a voice calling out to him. At first, he did not know who it was, but it was persistent. 'Spock' it called out, over and over. It implored him to open his eyes. It was hard to think . . . hard to respond in any way . . . but the insistent voice continued to berate him.

At last, he realized that the voice belonged to his long time friend/enemy McCoy. He had given up the belief that anyone from the ship would find him, but was not all that surprised that the one to do so had been the doctor. 'Ah, McCoy . . .' he thought, as a warm sensation seemed to fill his being.

Suddenly, sensation seemed to return to his body, as the doctors words seeped into his mind, "Hang in there, Spock. I've given you something for the pain, but it may take a bit before the ship can beam us up."

"McCoy . . ." Spock said in a hoarse whisper.

"Sh . . . don't try to talk." McCoy said, as he continued to work on the badly injured Vulcan. He was appalled by the damage done by the primitive weapon, and fearful that he would not be able to get Spock to the ship in time . . . but he did all he could to keep his fears out of his mind. After all, he didn't want Spock sensing them through his touch . . . and if he wanted to help the Vulcan, he would have to touch him.

Spock's eyes fluttered opened, and he reached feebly for the doctor's hand, saying, "I must tell you . . . McCoy . . ." His body was wracked by spasms, and he closed his eyes, as a wave of intense pain overwhelmed him.

McCoy was alarmed by the readings from his tricorder, and gave Spock another injection to try and stabilize him until they were rescued. After several intense minutes, the muscles in Spock's neck relaxed, and his breathing, although shallow, seemed easier. McCoy sat back, knowing there was nothing else he could do for his friend.

Spock's eyes once again fluttered opened, and he focused on McCoy sitting next to him on the cold ground. He knew the doctor was concerned and trying not to show it . . . but deep down, Spock knew there was no hope. His life was rapidly coming to an end, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Weak, he lifted his hand, and was pleased when the doctor took hold of it, even though he could no longer feel the warmth of the human's touch. With his last bit of strength, he whispered, "Leonard . . . I . . . love you." He closed his eyes, and added, "I thought . . . you . . . should know."

He lapsed into unconsciousness as the transporter beam swept over them.

******

McCoy was astonished to hear Spock's confession . . . the very words he had longed to hear, but assumed he never would. As a Vulcan, it would be virtually impossible for Spock to admit such a primal emotion as love . . . he must surely think his life is over. McCoy was going to do everything in his power to prove otherwise.

Luckily, the medical team were in the transporter room, waiting with an antigrav stretcher, and an array of equipment to help stabilize Spock before he moved him to surgery.

******

It had been touch and go, but McCoy was convinced, finally, that Spock would recover. The sedative used during surgery would wear off within the next thirty minutes, and Spock should be able to slip into a healing trance . . . the best thing for him at this stage.

In the meantime, McCoy was determined to stay by his side. He wanted to be there when Spock regained consciousness . . . to let him know that his feelings were reciprocated. He held Spock's hand, thinking about the future he had always hoped for, but never dreamed could be theirs.

He had to admit to himself that he had found the Vulcan to be the sexiest person he had ever met. His intellect . . . his curiosity . . . his sense of 'self' . . . and above all, his physique. They all combined to create, at least in McCoy's eyes, the perfect being.

But of course, he couldn't say that to Spock's face. No, such a confession would have been considered highly illogical. After all, what self-respecting Vulcan male would ever consider a relationship with a less-than-perfect human male? There would be no point in it . . . after all, sex was something that must be endured for procreation purposes only . . . 'sexual gratification' was not part of the Vulcan make-up.

Or so he had been led to believe.

But now, with Spock's confession fresh in his mind, all manner of possibilities seemed to be open to him.

It was with this thought in his mind that he first felt Spock stirring, the sedative was undoubtedly wearing off. He stood, bending over Spock as he gave his hand a squeeze, "Spock, can you hear me?" he said softly.

There was a bit of eye flutter before Spock's head moved from side to side. With a jerk, he pulled his hand away from McCoy's, as he mumbled over and over, "No . . . must control . . ."

"Sh, Spock . . ." McCoy said, as he tried to soothe the distraught Vulcan. Quickly checking his readings to determine if this apparent delirium was due to a high fever, or simple disorientation due to the sedative, and Spock's previous belief that he was not going to survive his injuries.

Seeing that his temperature was only slightly elevated, even by his unusual standards, McCoy felt relieved . . . the last thing he needed to deal with right now was a secondary infection. Taking the Vulcan by the shoulders, he looked into his eyes as he called out, "Spock . . . it's McCoy . . . look at me."

Spock's thrashing ceased, as his eyes focused on the doctor. The mix of emotions that were expressed in Spock's eyes spoke volumes about his current mental turmoil, but he was too weak to resist McCoy's gently touch. Quietly, he started to speak, "Forgive me . . . I cannot . . ."

But McCoy, sensing the reason for his turmoil, interrupted, "Don't talk, you must enter a healing trance . . . there'll be plenty of time to discuss . . ." but his words faltered, as Spock started to shake his head once again.

"McCoy, leave me . . . I must meditate." Spock's words were spoken with a strength he did not outwardly possess. He could not force McCoy to leave his side, but he hoped that the doctor would have enough respect for him to honor his wishes.

Seeing the look of determination in Spock's eyes, McCoy realized that things were not going to be as easy as he had hoped. Nevertheless, this was not the time or place to hash things out between the two of them. Releasing Spock's shoulders, McCoy straightened up, and said, "You are more in need of a healing trance than meditation at this time. If you won't initiate one, I will be forced to sedate you again . . . do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, doctor . . . your potions will be unnecessary . . . I will initiate the healing trance now, if you would be so kind as to have a nurse standing by to bring me out of it when the time comes."

"That won't be necessary . . . I'll be here for you," McCoy said, as he gently placed a hand back on Spock's arm. He tried not to feel hurt as Spock flinched, and pulled away from the touch.

"I would prefer that you were not," Spock said, then added when he saw the look on McCoy's face, "I need time to myself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think I do." McCoy stepped back, and Spock closed his eyes. In seconds, the indicators on the medical board over Spock's head began to drop as Spock slipped into a healing trance. Satisfied that all was as it should be, McCoy looked back to Spock lying peacefully on the bed and whispered, "You're not off the hook . . . not by a long shot," then he bent down and lightly kissed the stubborn Vulcan on the forehead.

********

Two day had passed since McCoy had released Spock from sickbay. Spock had assured him that they *would* talk . . . but so far, that had not happened. It was obvious to McCoy that he was being avoided like the plague. He could only assume that Spock was regretting his confession, and unsure of how to deal with the consequences of it.

To date, he had not even been able to tell the stubborn Vulcan that his feelings were reciprocated . . . every time he had tried to broach the subject, Spock stopped him, and walked away.

Well, tonight, he would put his foot down . . . he would tell Spock, once and for all, that his love was not only welcomed but returned. If Spock needed time, so be it . . . they could take things as slowly as he wished, as long as they did not ignore their feelings any longer.

With his newfound determination, he set out to find Spock. As he had hoped, he was in the mess hall, eating dinner with the captain. McCoy got his tray, and walked purposefully toward their table, with the intention of joining them, after all, there was safety in numbers. Spock was less likely to 'walk out' knowing that McCoy would not broach the subject with the captain present. But as he made his final approach, Kirk stood, tray in hand. He was just about to say something to Spock, when he noticed McCoy, and said instead, "Ah, Bones . . ."

"Captain," he said, but his eyes were on Spock, who had looked up sharply at the captain's words. "Leaving so soon?" He had forced his eyes off of the Vulcan as he asked, knowing that Kirk would notice if his gaze lingered too long.

"Duty calls . . . I've got a ton of paperwork to do before I turn in for the night," and as he said this, he gestured to the seat he had just vacated, adding, "I'm sure Mister Spock wouldn't mind your company."

Feeling trapped, but unable to escape the situation, Spock said, "By all means, doctor, have a seat," all the while keeping his expression as neutral as possible. It was all he could do to prevent his desire from showing . . . had McCoy passed his tricorder over him at that moment, he would have noticed his increased heart rate as a mixture of fear and arousal overcame him.

He did not know how to deal with these emotions, and only wished to avoid them as he had done for the past three years. But it was too late for that . . . his confession to McCoy made it impossible. McCoy was not the type to let him get away with saying 'forget it ever happened' . . . no, McCoy would want him to explore his emotions.

The silence stretched out for an eternity as Spock was lost in thought. It was only when he felt McCoy's hand on his that he looked up. "Spock," McCoy said quietly, "we need to talk."

"Yes, but not here." He had pulled his hand away, in the pretense of lifting his fork to continue his meal, but he did not eat. Instead, he looked around to see that they were not within hearing range of anyone else, then added, "I should never had said what I did . . . and I understand if you do not share my . . ."

"But I do," McCoy interrupted, then realized he had spoken a bit louder than he had intended. A quick look around told him that they were still not being observed by the others in the mess hall. In a fierce whisper, he continued, 'Dammit, Spock, if you hadn't been avoiding me these past couple of days, you'd already know that."

As the eyebrow rose beneath the straight black bangs, Spock simply said, "Indeed."

McCoy smiled, and once again reached across the table to place his hand on Spock's. He could see that there was still a great deal of apprehension in the Vulcan's eyes, but nothing that they couldn't work out, as far as he was concerned. "I love you, Spock. I've loved you from the moment I met you, I think."

"Yes, I 'feel' much the same way . . . but I do not know . . ." Spock's words faltered, as the conversation became far too personal for such a public location.

McCoy smiled even wider, as he said, "Don't worry Spock, I can teach you anything you need to know . . . that's half the fun," he concluded with a wink.

There was a hint of a smile on Spock's lips as he said, "No, you misunderstand me. It is not the 'physical' aspects that I am unsure of, it is the emotional . . . I do not know how to read emotions, let alone react to them."

"I think you do pretty well on that account . . . far better than you know," McCoy said, then continued, "but you know what? I can help you with that, too." He could see the apprehension slowly dissolving, then Spock's expression quickly changed and he shook his head slowly.

"No, this cannot work . . . we are far too different, and . . ." Spock stopped. 'And what?' he thought. Once again, he was allowing his fear of emotional instability to rule him. It was best to end this before it got out of hand. "I am sorry, doctor . . . we would both be better off if I had never said anything to begin with." He stood, tray in hand, as he made to escape this ever increasingly difficult situation.

McCoy was left speechless for a moment, after all, he had thought that the conversation had been going in the right direction. This sudden 'flip' was completely unexpected. Spock was halfway to the recycler before he regained his composure. Picking up his own uneaten meal, he quickly followed, catching Spock just as he was entering the turbolift.

They were not alone, so the ride to officer's quarters was made in silence, as was the brisk walk to Spock's quarters. Spock did not invite McCoy in, but he followed nonetheless. Once the door had closed behind them, McCoy said angrily, "Look, I know you told me you loved me because you thought you were dyin'. But you didn't! And statements of that sort have all kinds of consequences attached to them . . . *including* accepting the fact that your feelings may be returned."

Spock stood silently listening to McCoy's verbal barrage, intellectually knowing that he was right, but fearful of the consequences he spoke of. To Spock, the easy way out would be to deny his feelings . . . after all, he had been doing that for most of his life. Had he kept those feelings to himself, he could have continued to do so. But he hadn't kept his feelings to himself, and to ignore them now would not be fair to McCoy.

He suddenly accepted that 'the easy way' was not going to be his choice this time. He owed it to McCoy to give this a try . . . even if, in the long run, it did not work out. As McCoy's exasperated words came to an end, Spock took one step toward him, and took him by the arms. At first, the embrace was awkward . . . due to Spock's lack of experience, and McCoy's surprise . . . but in no time, the passion they had been hiding from one another overcame their awkwardness.

There was no denying that it would take a great deal of effort, on both of their parts, but McCoy knew that they *could* make this work . . . and one day, Spock would come to appreciate living with the consequences of his dying words.

~the beginning~