Work Text:
Commander Spock stared out the viewscreen into the vastness of space, face as carefully impassive as always. Were the Captain to see him there and somehow divine his thoughts, he would no doubt sneer at Spock's weakness. All the same, the commander allowed his hand to come up and brush his own cheek.
It was not as it should have been. The memory, burning white-hot in his mind like a supernova, did not include the scratchiness of his own beard, nor was it so gentle. Spock was not one to harbor the illusion that the mind-meld between him and the strange Doctor McCoy had been consensual. To a Vulcan the very idea of what he had done ought to have been repulsive -
Ah, but I am not fully Vulcan, am I? Spock thought, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. Surak's teachings, logical though they were, held only negligible sway over him. Surely he could be forgiven a momentary lapse of control, especially considering the demands of his Vulcan biology and the alluring naivete of Doctor McCoy.
The wave of heat passed over Spock again, stronger now than it had been then. It wouldn't be long, he knew, before he became little more than an animal, completely at the mercy of his pon farr. This time, however - This time, he would not be forced to satisfy himself with whatever hapless young ensign happened to cross his path. No, Commander Spock had a plan, a mission of his own that not even the Captain could prevent him from fulfilling.
One way or another, he would have the Doctor as his mate.
Though humans could, at times, be the most baffling of creatures, Spock understood Doctor McCoy's situation all too well.
It had begun after his brief foray into the Mirror Universe, as the Captain was calling it in his logs. For those unfamiliar with the various difficulties that could arise from Vulcan telepathy, McCoy's behavior would have been concerning but not alarming. He worked himself to exhaustion even when there was no medical emergency to bring logic to his actions. He avoided their regular recreational activities in the Captain's quarters, when he never would have missed it before. Yet he was not avoiding the Captain himself, having joined him for meals no less than four times per week since the Mirror Universe incident. Those facts, coupled with his reluctance to allow Spock access to his CMO log of the incident, led Spock to an unspeakable conclusion.
Were he human, he would have been enraged. As it was, Spock was... disquieted. He did not wish to believe that he was capable of kae'at k'lasa, even in a different universe. Yet all the facts were there, and so the only logical thing to do was to offer what help he could until they were able to find a competent healer on Vulcan.
Spock could have almost thought the onset of his Pon Farr fortunate, as it would force them to divert course to Vulcan, yet he still did not enjoy the process. The periodic hot flashes, the normally controlled feelings that stirred without warning... pon farr was always a disquieting time for Vulcans, and Spock, with his half-human heritage, found it all the more difficult to keep his iron control. Were it not for his determination to keep close observation of Doctor McCoy, he would have spent unnecessary hours in meditation, attempting to keep the control that Surak demanded.
As it was, his periods of illogical emotion were not helping him on his self-appointed mission to watch over the Doctor.
"Doctor, do you have the results of the Alpha Shift physicals?" Spock said as he entered the med bay. He didn't miss the way that the muscles of McCoy's back tensed, bringing his shoulders forward protectively.
"Alright, alright, keep your pointy ears on," McCoy muttered. Before, Spock would have entered further, perhaps glanced over McCoy's shoulder to see the PADD that he was nearly pounding information into. Now, he simply waited just outside the doorway. Should McCoy desire it, he would be able to lock Spock out in an instant. "Don't know why the hell Jim wants these, anyways. I'd tell him if there was anything he needed to know." Spock simply nodded as he took the PADD, careful to allow the Doctor control the transaction and to not allow their fingers to brush. That was another small liberty that he had become too accustomed to over the course of their friendship, the small reassurances that those around him were not emotionally compromised.
"My thanks, Doctor McCoy," Spock said. For a moment McCoy looked slightly unnerved, but he pushed it aside with an almost physical effort, swallowing down all traces that something was wrong. Spock lingered in the doorway, trying to somehow glean more from McCoy's body language.
"Well, go on, you hobgoblin," McCoy grunted. "I've got work to do."
"Of course," Spock said. He turned, door sliding shut behind him.
It was not logical to be disappointed at his less than eager reception. He knew what the other him had done, and he would not blame the Doctor for his reaction. How could he, when the thought of it made emotion surge through his chest? And yet he would prefer... Spock closed his eyes as another wave of heat passed over him. He would prefer if the Doctor, in spite of everything, would confide in him, and the emotions that troubled him as Pon Farr drew near were not helping him to give up this foolish notion.
Spock knew that the logical thing to do was allow the Doctor to heal at his own pace, yet he feared (yes, feared, it was illogical to deny the emotion) that McCoy would be afraid of him always. He did not desire that possibility.
When Mr. Scott reported a transporter accident to the bridge, Spock was instantly wary. After the last incident, he had decided to adopt some of Doctor McCoy's reservations about the equipment. By the time he had made his way to the transporter room, forcing himself to keep a steady, unhurried pace, there was no indication of what had occurred.
"Incident report, Mr. Scott," he said curtly.
"I canna explain it, sir," Scott said. "He jist appeared out ah nowhere."
"Who?" said Spock.
"That's th' wee strange bit. He looked jist like yeh, but his uniform were different. An' he had a beard!" A hot flash overtook Spock, his heart pounding.
"What? Where is he?" Scott looked unnerved at Spock's unusually emotional reaction, but the Vulcan had no time to waste on recovering his composure or his pride. "Where?"
"I sent him down tae th' med bay, sir. He collapsed as soon as he beamed in." Spock was already half-way out the door, running, hoping that he would not be too late. He had no idea what his mirror counterpart had in mind, but he did know that he could not leave the good Doctor alone in his presence.
"It's my job, damn it," McCoy muttered as he approached the bed that held Spock - the other Spock, he reminded himself. "It's not as though he can do it again." He wished that he could believe himself.
Even passed out in a biobed, this Spock seemed too damn dangerous. McCoy knew that it was just his mind playing tricks on him, and he could only be grateful that neither Spock was able to lambast him for being so illogical that he was reluctant to help a patient. Sighing, McCoy held the scanner over the other Spock's body at arm's length, hoping desperately that it would show nothing so that he wouldn't need to get any closer. Of course it started beeping, of course. He never could catch a break. McCoy leaned forward, trying to simultaneously figure out the source of the problem and stay as far from the unconscious Vulcan as possible.
Spock's eyes flew open, a hand snapping around McCoy's wrist. McCoy let out a strangled shout, trying to stumble back, but he couldn't seem to move as Spock's thumb began to gorge a small circle into his palm.
"Your human emotions are so strong, so vivid," said Spock. His eyelids fluttered slightly, and McCoy felt like throwing up. The bastard was actually getting off on this. "It is... intoxicating."
"Get the hell away from me." McCoy's growl came out breathy and far too weak. Spock's eyes narrowed, and the grip around McCoy's wrist tightened painfully.
"You ought to be thanking me on bended knee, Doctor McCoy," Spock said calmly. "It is no small matter when a Vulcan chooses you as his mate." McCoy wanted to respond, to break out with one of the thousands of insults that he had devised for the pointy-eared bastard, but when he opened his mouth nothing came out. He couldn't even struggle as Spock backed him against the wall and brought up his hand as though to-
"I would suggest," said a measured voice, "stepping away from the Doctor." The other Spock turned, and McCoy got a glimpse of Spock, his Spock, fury openly displayed on his face.
"Spock..." he said faintly.
"I challenge you to kal-if-fee," Spock said. The other one laughed, and the sound was enough to make every hair on McCoy's neck stand on end.
"Why should I fight you?" he said. "I already have found a mate for pon farr. Your own needs are irrelevant here."
"You are guilty of kae'at k'lasa. You are unfit to be the mate of any being." The other Spock let go of McCoy's wrist, turning his full attention to his challenger, and McCoy let himself slide down the wall.
"He is only a human, barely above an animal. Kae'at k'lasa can hardly apply."
"He is kh'knerla'th. I have seen the damage you have done, and I revile it."
"Quite an emotional reaction, Mr. Spock," the other teased.
"It is understandable. As you have noted, I, too, approach pon farr." The other Spock's eyes narrowed.
"I do not accept your challenge of kal-if-fee," he said. "I am quite satisfied with the solution I have found."
"I am not giving you a choice," Spock growled, actually growled, and McCoy would have been astonished if he wasn't so terrified.
"Spock," he said again, a little stronger this time. His Spock's eyes turned toward him and damn it there was no mistaking the lust in his gaze. McCoy couldn't be certain if it was just the pon farr or if he had actually been completely oblivious to the Vulcan's feelings, but either way he had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last he would see of it. For some reason the prospect wasn't nearly as terrifying as it ought to have been, especially considering how he had been having to suppress his panic every time they had been in the same room since... since. Then again, having a guy literally challenge someone to a fight to protect you had a way to changing your perspective.
"Doctor," Spock said. "Are you unharmed?" McCoy waved him aside.
"I'm fine," he said. It was only half a lie. Maybe three quarters.
"I will not allow him to hurt you again."
"I'm a doctor, damn it, not a damsel," McCoy grumbled, but it was halfhearted at best. He was still trembling, still helpless compared to the Vulcans in front of him. In spite of his protests, there really wasn't anything he could do about his situation without Spock.
The fight began all at once, both Vulcans throwing themselves forward. For one terrifying moment they seemed to blend together in McCoy's mind, but then he caught his Spock's eyes and he knew which was the correct one. He could never imagine the other Spock looking at him with such desperation, as though if he didn't win the fight the universe would implode. The other Spock pushed his backwards, bending him back over the exam table. His Spock's arm came up, trying to defend himself as the other brought a fist down on his face again and again. McCoy stood, wavering, trying to force his legs to move him forward.
"Hey, ya' green-blooded bastard!" he shouted. Both of the Vulcans froze, the other Spock turning slightly to try to glimpse him. That was the only opening that his Spock, the real Spock, needed. His hand flew upward, grasping at the junction between the other Spock's neck and shoulder. A momentary grimace of pain, and the other Spock was on the ground, unconscious. For a moment McCoy and Spock could only stare at each other, both breathing harshly.
"Doctor..." Spock said, reaching out towards McCoy, but when McCoy's breath stuttered his arm jerked back as though burned. "Doctor, are you harmed?"
"I'm fine, Spock," McCoy said. Spock nodded, and then, suddenly, he collapsed. McCoy barely got across the room fast enough to prevent the Vulcan from cracking his head against the cold metal floor. "Damn it, Spock, wake up you idiot!" To the Doctor's relief, Spock's eyes slowly opened.
"My apologies, Doctor," he said. "The kal-if-fee is taxing, especially when barely in pon farr."
"Don't apologize, Spock," McCoy snapped. Spock nodded, and McCoy breathed out a sigh of relief, practically cradling the Vulcan's head in his lap. He had a feeling that this... whatever the hell this was wouldn't be able to be ignored or pushed aside, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to worry. They would cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, they were fine. Everything would be fine.