Title: Beautiful Days (Chapter 8)
Codes: TOS, S/Mc, S/f (implied) rated M for m/m, death, medical scenes.
BEAUTIFUL DAYS (CHAPTER 8)
"Push Zarabeth," said McCoy. He crouched in front of her as he had for the past 36 hours. It had been very slow going but finally he could see the crown of the baby's head.
"I can't," she gasped.
McCoy looked up at Spock. Zarabeth sat with her back against the Vulcan who had his hand on the side of her face to share some of the pain. "Yes you can," said McCoy. "Come on, Zarabeth!"
Finally she was successful and McCoy, sweat stinging his eyes in the heat of the cave, was able to pull the child out. "Spock," he said with tears of joy in his eyes. "It's a boy!" As he cradled the infant, then went to pass it over to Zarabeth, he noticed she had fallen unconscious. "Oh no! This crazy alien physiology of her's…something's wrong!"
"Hi there." McCoy grinned as he sauntered unsteadily into the cabin.
Spock looked up. The doctor was entering the cabin, late and drunk as usual. If he wasn't getting inebriated in here, he was with the new Assistant Engineer Mr. Scott. How McCoy ever made it back home was beyond the Vulcan`s comprehension.
Spock was at a loss as to why he felt an odd sensation of concern for this man. This human with all his gruffness on the surface was growing on Spock. On the occasions when McCoy had touched Spock, the science officer had felt the underlying tenderness emanating from the man. The vulnerability deep below the surface was made perfectly
clear to Spock.
The bloodshot blue eyes that looked back at his own, were not only rare for both Vulcan and Earth, but they would have been stunningly beautiful had the doctor ever taken the time to put eye drops in them. They looked like they were always in pain. It seemed that McCoy cared about everyone else but constantly neglected his own health.
McCoy staggered over, tripped, then lay face down on his bunk, fully clothed. Spock regarded him, almost fondly, then hopped over to him, and pulled off the doctor's uniform tunic.
"What are you doing…" said McCoy.
"Doing what I always do. Putting you to bed."
"I don't need you to do that. You`re not my goddamned wife."
Spock and McCoy re-appeared through the stone donut shaped structure. McCoy stood next to Spock. He glanced over at the Vulcan then slowly looked out at the captain, in a daze.
"What happened? Where's Zarabeth?" asked Captain Kirk.
"She's dead," said Spock evenly. McCoy merely looked on in a stupor.
"Bones?" Kirk said. "Bones!"
"Yes?" came the faint response.
"You two weren't successful?"
McCoy blinked. "Why the hell didn't the guardian pull us back immediately when we found her? I… could have saved her. Her crazy alien physiology…she bled to death!" His voice cracked. "Dammit! I was helpless down there, but I could have saved here on our
facilities on the Enterprise, but on that hellhole, no matter what… I couldn`t stop the..!" his voice broke.
Kirk snapped at attention. "Guardian, what happened?"
But the guardian would only answer: "Everything is as it should have been, as it once was. Let me be your guardian."
Kirk stared at the Guardian in horror. "Oh my god… Bones. I`m sorry Bones, Spock."
"That's no damned answer, Captain!" McCoy snapped. "Well thanks to me, I guess, Spock now has a beautiful baby boy to look after all on his own," he motioned to Spock holding a fur-covered bundle, then looked down at his hands.
"Oh my…he's beautiful!" gasped Kirk.
"Let's get the hell out of here," McCoy managed.
"Ahhhh, Spock, you shouldn't have," McCoy chuckled to himself as he entered his quarters, and noticed the temperature was much, much cooler. After normally fighting with the Vulcan about what compromise degrees Celcius to set it at, it was now at this moment set to manageable proportions for him. He found himself touched at the
If anything, this Vulcan was turning out to be a pretty decent roommate. The cabin was empty and blissfully quiet. McCoy glanced over and noticed that his bathrobe was folded up on his nightstand, thanks to the Vulcan, again. McCoy smiled at that and felt almost a
tinge of something. Loneliness perhaps? He wasn't sure what the hell was going on. He was probably just fatigued out of his mind. The mind plays tricks on you when you pull long shifts.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, from the bottle that the new assistant chief Engineer, Montgomery Scott, or 'Scotty' to his friends, had given him when he'd come on board. Scotty had discovered that McCoy, a fellow hard drinker, had had to make due with the lousy synth stuff the Enterprise computers churned out when he`d run out of his own stash. `Well, if someone's coming on board ship bearing gifts like that, they're definitely a friend of mine`, McCoy thought.
McCoy knocked back the drink, ordered the computer to lower the lights to 10 percent and collapsed on his bed in his uniform.
"Hmmm…Spock what are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing, Leonard?"
"God, that feels good when you touch me."
"It's agreeable to touch you, beloved."
…McCoy suddenly shot up in his bunk; gasping and eyes blazing. "Oh, my God. Did I just dream about Spock?"
END OF CHAPTER 8