Title: I Would Do Anything for Love
Summary: Spock’s thoughts on the situation after Khan set off the Genesis device. His motives weren’t’
quite as pure as they tend to be illustrated.
Disclaimer: I don't own TOS. I never have, and I
never will. Star Trek and all of its relations are property of Paramount and Viacom. I only own this story. Anybody who
has a problem with the thought of men in homosexual relationships with each other, please stay away. Flames and feedback are
welcome. Please ask before putting this anywhere.
Do Anything for Love
I would do anything for love. I’d run right into hell and back. I would do anything for love. I’d never lie to you and that’s a fact. But I’ll never forget the way you feel right
now. Oh no, no way. And I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that. No, I won’t do that.” –Meatloaf
Spock had been watching his cadets try to their best ability
to be of real use to the seasoned Starfleet officers. He had watched as they tried their best not to break under the pressure.
He watched as more than one fought back tears, holding back the sobs that threatened to escape, trying to be strong against
the pressure, the fear, the increasing possibility that come the next day, they could be nothing more than particles floating
freely through space.
He had given up command of their training vessel to Admiral
Kirk when the twist had occurred. A problem with Genesis. Doctor Carol Marcus requesting assistance. It was only logical for
Kirk to take command back. After all, the Enterprise was his
ship, and David Marcus was his son. Although the latter was blissfully unaware.
He had watched as his favorite pupil struggled under the weight
of their mission. He knew it was unfair for a teacher to “play favorites” as it were, but he was simply fond of
Saavik. He saw something within her that reminded him of himself at her age. She managed to cope better than he did. He respected
that. However, even respect could go so far and he had found himself having to correct her behavior multiple times over to
the past few days. She was showing off, trying to impress the Admiral. But he knew Kirk, and all she had managed to do was
irritate him. After the last correction, he hoped she would back off, allowing them to take care of the situation at hand.
It was too dangerous to leave the command staff weak.
Not too long ago, he had watched as Peter Preston had been
killed. He had seen the pain in Commander Scott’s face as he held his dying nephew in his arms. Although he had taken
the bridge while Kirk and Doctor McCoy accompanied their Engineer to sickbay, he had left a few minutes later, handing command
to Sulu. The death around them began to inhibit his ability to concentrate. There had been death on missions, countless times
before. But never like this. This was not a mission; this was revenge. And the victims were not Starfleet personnel. They
were children in soldiers’ clothing.
He had seen the great power Genesis held. He knew the origin
of the name and even though he had argued about it with McCoy, he found himself in agreement. It had the power the bible had
described those millennia ago. He also knew the danger. With such power comes responsibility. Power corrupts. Khan was already
corrupted by his own power, his own rage. To allow it to fall into his hands would be to insure the end of the Enterprise, and quite possibly life as they knew it. Khan would certainly not settle for
revenge. He would want his reign restored, just as he had those decades ago.
He had seen the damage occurring to the ships. He had felt
the bridge shake and begin to buckle against the assault from the Reliant. Khan had been wise and had chosen an excellent
ship for fighting, mistake or not that it had fallen to him in the first place. He had seen the panic in the eyes of the crew,
the determination in Kirk’s face, the fear in the eyes of Carol Marcus, and for some reason, a feeling of responsibility
from David Marcus. Knowing better, Spock had not asked him why.
Mostly, Spock knew what was happening to Doctor McCoy. Since
the beginning of the mission, their relationship had been strained. It had not started until Kirk had interfered. Not that
Spock was blaming the Admiral, but McCoy’s sour mood had fallen into place immediately after he had given Kirk his birthday
gifts. Spock could understand why. The Admiral was the youngest of the three of them. Growing old in Terran culture was not
the same as in Vulcan culture. Often, it was seen as growing feeble, useless, rather than wise. In contrast, McCoy was the
oldest of them, and aside from a few self-conscious remarks here and there, felt no shame in his age. He wore it, like his
scars, with pride.
He had been there when McCoy had picked out Kirk’s birthday
presents. Although they had been bonded for fifteen years, they still gave presents to Kirk individually, nobody else. It
was their way of letting him know that despite their relationship, nothing had changed. They were still the three of them,
in duty and in friendship. He had also been there when McCoy had returned from his visit with Kirk, at nearly three in the
morning, fuming. He had listened patiently as McCoy ranted about how Kirk needed to take command back of the Enterprise. He had promised McCoy he would take care of it. And he had. Simply not the way
anybody had wished.
Spock’s attention was jarred back to the present. Khan
was threatening them. He had Genesis. He wanted the ship. He wanted Kirk for the kill. He was willing to destroy everything
to get what he wanted. Spock turned for a moment to watch Kirk. He was tired, and for the first time that Spock could remember,
he looked scared.
The call came from Engineering. The warp drive mechanism was
damaged. They would all die soon. Spock closed his eyes in concentration. Leonard McCoy was in engineering. If their last
moments were upon them, let them spend such precious time together. When Kirk’s attention was elsewhere, he left.
As he swiftly made his way down there, his mind began to wander.
He remembered his oath to Starfleet, to do all within his power to bring honor to the Fleet, to be loyal to his crew. He knew
his duty as a teacher. But what dominated his thoughts was his vow to McCoy, 189 months ago, where he swore he would protect
him, keep him safe, and leave him with no want or desire unfulfilled. It seemed as though he would fail his husband.
When he stepped off the turbo-lift and looked around engineering,
a new thought entered his mind. Perhaps he would not fail after all. From the looks of it, the containment chamber was damaged,
yes, and one could certainly not survive exposure for long. But he was Vulcan and he could last long enough to do some good.
To save McCoy. To keep him safe. Making Leonard see his logic would be the difficult part. His feelings ran too deeply for
him to change his mind once he had formulated his plan.
Spock walked quickly, in an attempt to brush past McCoy. He
knew he would fail, of course, but he needed his attention. There was something he had to do, first. Predictably, McCoy caught
on to what he was thinking, albeit only partially. "Are you out of your Vulcan mind? No human can tolerate the radiation that's
Spock steeled himself against the emotion in the doctor’s
voice. What he planned was necessary. He could not break down. “As you are so fond of pointing out, Doctor, I am not
human.” Silently, he hoped that McCoy would leave it at that so he could do what was necessary. What he must do as a
Vulcan, as his husband.
Against all his wishes, McCoy did not bend. He was wasting
precious time. “You’re NOT going in there!” How could he be strong against the pain in Leonard’s voice?
He had to press on. But he realized he could not do it with McCoy’s interference. He came to a decision.
“Perhaps you are right,” noticing Commander Scott
unconscious, he found his escape, “What is Mister Scott’s condition?”
It worked. His husband turned around, glancing down at the
engineer. “Well, I don’t think that he’ll-” Spock made certain he said no more. Gathering all his
strength, he reached out, applying the necessary pressure to the spot between McCoy’s shoulder and neck. As he slipped
into unconsciousness, Spock gently eased him to the floor. He would not be able to stand up to him, not if he were conscious.
He would lose his nerve.
Spock carefully crossed to the engineer, grabbing the radiation
mitts off his hands. As he slipped one on, he turned back towards his husband. He would do almost anything for him. But he
simply could not face him, not in the task he knew he must. But there was something he could do. Kneeling down beside the
unconscious form, he pressed his fingers against his temple. “Remember,” he murmured, pressing with the urgency
of the situation, with both hand and mind.
With a last lingering look at his husband, Spock stepped into
the chamber, sealing it behind him. He would not emerge alive.
As he set to work, he heard the cries of Scott; more painfully,
he heard the pleading of McCoy, begging him to stop, to return to him. He would not, could not. McCoy’s life was more
important to him, more precious than anything. And if it meant inflicting such pain on him for the time being, he would save
him. And Spock ignored him.
Spock could not ignore the pain in his mind. He could not shield
McCoy’s thoughts from his. His bondmate was too distraught to understand what he was doing, why it was necessary. Instead,
he bled raw terror through the bond, making it difficult for Spock to continue. But he had started, and his life was over,
regardless of if he finished. He had to save McCoy.
With the last of his strength, Spock finished his task. The
ship, he knew on some level, was safe. More importantly, McCoy was safe. McCoy would live another day. And he collapsed to
Kirk was talking to him. He needed to explain, but the words
would not come from his lips. Through the corner of his eyes, he saw McCoy watching him. McCoy wanted to help. But he could
do nothing to help him. He still could not face him.
In his life, Spock had expressed his emotions to McCoy, his
love. He had shared with him, mentally and physically. He had been willing to try new things: foods, scenery, music, intimate
activity. He had adapted to McCoy’s customs and traditions with pleasure. He had fought to protect his husband on more
than one occasion. And he, now, had given his life to save the one most cherished. But he could not explain. He could not
apologize. And he could not protect McCoy from pain.
He had made the ultimate sacrifice for love, and as he felt
the supreme weariness overcome him, he leaned against the cool plexi-glass. He wouldn’t be able to stay. And with a
last breath, he was gone.