Disclaimer: I don't own trek, but I do own the cave.
AN: Fear not, BEMJ. The pock has been repaired.
McCoy stared at his friend, leaning on the opposite wall of the cave. He seemed tired and weak, though Leonard was hardly an expert on Vulcan physiology. The rain pattered outside and the wind threatened to quench their little fire.
Still, McCoy found it nice sitting with Spock. They'd been there for three days now, periodically gathering wood and bringing it in to dry. There hadn't been much to eat, and the conversation was all but nonexistent. They could not contact the Enterprise and could only stray ten feet from the cave entrance without getting lost in the storm.
Still, it was nice, the little flames crackling and the warmth spreading throughout the cave. There had been smoke and a great deal of it, yes, but they had dug a sort of floo and were able to breath now. That was nice.
Nice, yes. But three days without food or conversation tried McCoy's most determined optimism. Sleep was unwelcome, as was awakening, and only Spock's mental chronometer had allowed them to regulate their sleep cycles with nothing to do.
It was a small cave, or likely they would have explored. It wasn't Bones' favorite thing to do, wandering through dark caves on alien planets, but it would have at least provided some means of maintaining sanity.
As it were, McCoy wished dearly for Jim or Chapel, or maybe a whiskey.
Still, it was nice.
"Spock," he said hoarsely, straining his unused voice. "Are you okay?"
"Quite," the Vulcan said, equally hoarse. "And yourself?"
"I'm not a glutton for boredom, but all is well."
"Here's a thought." Did he dare go out on this limb?
"Do go on," Spock said.
"We," McCoy hesitated. "We could play a game."
"A game?" Spock said bleakly.
"Well, it would help pass the time."
"The time will pass regardless of our actions, Doctor."
"Yes, but it won't be so dull."
"Very well," Spock said. "Enlighten me of this game if you must."
"Hmm…" Bones thought. He hadn't had one in mind. "Twenty questions."
Spock did not comment, but placed his fingertips together in vague interest.
"I think of something, a noun usually, and you have a maximum of twenty yes-or-no questions to find out what it is. The only limitation is t has to be the first thing I think of and I can't change it."
"Indeed," Spock failed to hide his amusement. "Have you thought of your noun?"
"Now, that's not fair," McCoy frowned. "Alright you think of something."
"Rain," McCoy said.
"Quite," Spock confirmed. "I fail to see the purpose of this game."
"Okay, the second thing you think of. It's my turn."
"Is it a person?"
"You got it. Your turn." Spock thought for a moment.
"I am ready," he said doubtfully.
"Does he serve aboard the Enterprise?"
"Is he a close friend of yours?"
"No?" Okay, what other friends? Ah, McCoy thought. He had automatically assumed this friend was masculine. "Nurse Chapel?"
"No," Spock said eyebrow cocked.
"Is he masculine?
"Reilly?" McCoy said incredulously.
"Does e wear a red uniform?"
"A yellow one?"
Blue then. McCoy pondered. "Blast it, Spock, you've stumped me."
"You have ten questions yet."
"What, you mean you won't tell me?"
"You lost, doctor."
"The heck, I did." He did his best to emulate Spock's voice and did so surprisingly well. "I have ten questions yet."
"Ask," Spock said flatly.
"Is he from Earth?"
"Is he European?"
"No," Spock sat up.
"Is he from the states?"
"Is he from New England?"
"The South, then?"
"Is he as much fun as I am?" It was a joke, but Spock nodded.
"Exactly as much."
"Is he from Georgia?" Another joke to which Spock nodded.
"Is," McCoy blinked in surprise. "Is he really a close friend of yours?"
Spock blinked as well, realizing their game had gotten sentimental and obviously regretting agreeing to play. "Yes," he said slowly.
"Is he… It's really cold in here," Bones said mercifully. "I might get some more wood."
"It is cold," Spock said dryly.
It was cold and McCoy was hungry as he ventured into the torrents for unreasonably wet wood. There was no whiskey. The cave was dark and cramped and they had done nothing for three days and could only hope for the storm to slow enough that they could find food, let alone contact Jim.
Still, it was nice.
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