Title:  Life . . . Death . . . Life. .  . Love?   Part Two

Author:  Shoshana

Summary:   On board the Bounty (The Voyage Home)         

    McCoy asks Spock what it is like to die, prompting

    unexpected memories.  Prose sequel to the fal-tor-pan

    poem Through a Glass, Darkly (Spiced Peaches XXVI).

Rating:  PG-13 (for mild sexual content in Part II)    

Pairing:  S/Mc    Includes brief mention of McCoy’s

     canonical relationships with various women, and brief

    reference to a possible past male partner of Spock’s.

Disclaimer:   I do not own Star Trek.  Not a molecule, atom,

     quark or vibrating string of it.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to

face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also

I am known.  So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the

greatest of these is love.

-         I Corinthians 13:12,13  (KJV/RSV)

“You’ve gotten your memories back, haven’t you?” McCoy said as Spock entered his apartment.  “I could tell from your voice when you asked to see me, even though you didn’t say much.”

“You are perceptive, Doctor,” Spock replied.  “T’Vroon and I have determined there is a ninety-nine point two six probability that I have recovered all the memories I held prior to my demise.” 

What, McCoy wondered, could possibly be involved in such a calculation?  How could either patient or Healer be certain that every single memory had been restored?

“You’ve lost the blank look of perpetual perplexity you’ve had ever since the fal-tor-pan,” McCoy said, as they settled into chairs.   

“Doctor, I may not have exhibited it previously, but residing among humans I have existed in a continual state of perplexity.  I have merely regained the ability to disguise it.”

“I was right.  You do look and sound normal again.  Normal for you, that is.”

“Since you have said you liked me better before I died, I assume you are pleased.”  The old teasing note was back.

“Of course I’m pleased!”  McCoy’s pleasure was sincere, but behind it lurked anxiety.  Had Spock recovered memories from after his death, the seven months his katra had been carried within McCoy’s mind?  Spock had returned to Vulcan in specific pursuit of those memories.  “Jim will be thrilled to have the old Spock back on board the new Enterprise.  Or should I say the new Spock?”   McCoy had decided that if Spock knew the truth, that McCoy was in love with him, he would be resigning from the Enterprise-A. 

“I am no longer certain whether or not I will be accepting the Captain’s offer of a position as Executive Officer aboard the Enterprise-A.  Later today I will be applying for a new situation. 

I hope to be offered, as a consequence of having regained my memory in full, the position.  Whether or not that happens will be the determining factor whether I remain with the Enterprise-A.”

“You ungrateful green-blooded bastard, how can you do this to Jim?  He walked through fire, literally and figuratively, to get you back!  He’s going to be damn disappointed, not to mention surprised, that you don’t plan to stick around.”   

“The Captain may or may not be surprised by my plans.  I have hope, however, that he will not be entirely displeased by them.”

“I was wrong, Spock,” McCoy said, spitefully.  “You have changed, if keeping a command of your own is so important to you it makes you turn your back on your friends.” 

“It is not intention to ‘turn my back’ on my friends.  And the position I desire is not of a command nature.  It involves what your Terran figure of speech describes as ‘following in my father’s footsteps.’”  McCoy thought he saw a flash of humor on Spock’s face, but it fled so quickly he was not sure.

“A diplomat?  Well maybe being duplicitous will serve you well in your new career.   Though it’s hardly the way to follow in Sarek’s footsteps.” 

“Let us say that the position I am considering will require tact and the ability to compromise, as well as an awareness of intercultural dynamics.”  Again, that flash of humor, quickly suppressed.      

Spock continued, “While on Vulcan, I was made aware of . . . a party . . . who wishes to establish an alliance with Vulcan society.”

“Rumors have been cropping up about Vulcan sympathizers within Romulan society,” McCoy said.  “Visionaries who aspire to a reunification of the two cultures.  Is that what you’re referring to?”

“You might say my plans involve the unification of two cultures.”

“So you want to go play cloak and dagger.  What’s with you, Spock?  You don’t want to serve under a commander of your own rank?  Or is that you don’t want to be tainted by association with crewmates who were court-martialed?  For your sake, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I remember.  I remember very well.” 

A chill went through McCoy as Spock spoke.  The Vulcan’s tone seemed to hint he was alluding to more than just the recent military trial.   What else does he remember? McCoy wondered.  Does he know that I love him?  Is that why he doesn’t want to serve on the Enterprise-A?

Spock continued, “I would be honored to serve under Captain Kirk again, and with Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Scott and yourself, all of   whom I hold in the highest regard.  It is in fact because of you, Leonard, that I desire the new position.”

McCoy said, flatly, “You’ve accessed memories of when I held your katra.”  Spock knew McCoy loved him.  Spock was leaving the Enterprise, either because he did not wish to serve with yet another emotional human who was in love with him, or because he wished to spare McCoy’s feelings. 

“Yes,” Spock said, gently.  “I heard your thoughts during that period.  I know that you are in love with me, and have been for many years.  From your thoughts I know, as well, about Saavik.”  Saavik had copulated multiple times with the adolescent stage of Spock’s current body, to save it from death during the pon farr.  She had conceived, but subsequently lost the pregnancy on the journey to Vulcan.  “Before I left Vulcan I thanked her, for doing that which was necessary to save my life.  As I now thank you, Leonard, for having done all that you did.  I have been remiss in not having personally thanked you earlier.”

“You want to thank me?” McCoy said, stiffly.  “Let me resign from the ship, instead of you.  A First Officer is more important than a CMO.”  The remark was to save face:  Spock surely already knew McCoy had returned to space under his command primarily

to remain near Spock.  “I may be more familiar with your crazy quilt anatomy and patchwork physiology than any other physician in Star Fleet, but Jim can find someone else who’s qualified to draw that green ice water in your veins.  B’Menga, maybe, or Chapel.”   His voice brittle, he added, “Christine’s over you.  I’m not.”

“I do not wish for you to resign your current post.”

“Spock – stay on the Enterprise.  Or go play diplomat.  Do whatever the hell what you want.  In either case, I won’t be

around to bother you.”

“Leonard, I never once said I wanted to be a diplomat.  You rushed to that conclusion.  And far from your continued presence on the Enterprise bothering me, I greatly desire for the two of us to continue serving together, side by side.”

“You’re out of your blasted Vulcan mind again, if you think I could go back to being your shipmate, much less your physician, as if nothing’s changed between us.”

“I may be out of my Vulcan mind, but not for the reasons you impute.” 

Damn that Vulcan, McCoy thought.  Spock’s eyes are smiling.  He’s laughing at me because I’m in love with him.

Spock said, “I do agree, however, that under the circumstances I am proposing, it would be inadvisable for you to remain my personal physician.”

“Great.  Finally we agree on something.”

“While you were carrying my katra, the knowledge you were in love with me was initially deeply upsetting, even painful.  I no longer find it so.” 

“I’m glad you got over your pain so quickly,” McCoy said, his tone bitter.  “So much for the tact you’ll need for your new job.”      

“Once I became aware that I might be restored to my body, the knowledge of your feelings became, and remains, a source of profound hope.”

“Hope?  Of what?  Making me miserable?  You should have kept your mouth shut, Spock.  The fal-tor-pan must have changed you after all:  deliberate cruelty isn’t like you.  You should get along very well with the Romulans.  Maybe you can get back together with that cute little Commander.”

“Leonard, I assure you, it is not the Commander I wish to ‘get together with.’  I apologize for my indirection; I truly expected you to be more perceptive.”

“Perceptive?  You’re the goddamned mind reader, not me!  This whole katra carrying business wasn’t fair from the start.  You could understand my thoughts, but I couldn’t understand yours!

You’ve been secretly laughing at me through most of this conversation.  And you almost never called me ‘Leonard’ before, so I don’t know why you think me carting your katra around for half a year, or you knowing I love you, gives you the right all of a sudden!”

“Ashayam, I remember you thinking on four separate occasions during that time that you wished I had called you ‘Leonard.’”

“You can stop calling me that, too, whatever the hell it means.”

McCoy had heard the word often during the time he had held Spock’s katra.  Sensing Spock was addressing him with the term, McCoy had guessed it meant “Doctor.”  “The way you’ve been hiding your Vulcan smirk, it probably means ‘illogical human.’”

“You are correct I was addressing you when I utilized the term.  It is unfortunate you never looked up the meaning.  Perhaps it’s for the best, however, you never asked Saavik.  It means ‘beloved.’”

“What?  Did I hear you correctly?”  McCoy was gaping.

Spock rose.  “Leonard, I wish to follow my father’s footsteps, not in his choice of career, but rather in his choice of a human consort.  The ‘party’ to which I referred is not a political faction, Romulan or otherwise, but an individual.  The alliance I seek is marriage, and the position I desire is that of husband.

“For two hundred twenty-one days you were lesh-t’hul-katrav, the bearer of my living essence.  During that period I heard you wonder to yourself one hundred seventy-four times why I had chosen you.  So take now your best shot as to why I placed my katra in your care.  Take your best guess as to why I once grieved, but no longer do so, to know you love me.  Do not tell me that guessing is not in your nature, for you have given ample evidence this hour that you are quite capable of guessing my thoughts, my motivations, and yes, my feelings.  Mostly incorrectly, I must point out.” 

No longer trying to hide it, Spock smiled.  His expression, and his next words, were full of gentle affection.  He said, holding out two fingers in the Vulcan manner, “But then, nobody’s perfect, are they, ashayam?” 

“Never said I was,” McCoy said gruffly, reaching out with two fingers of his own.  He was staring up at Spock in amazement.  “You green-blooded son of bitch.  You’re telling me you love me?”

“Yes, Leonard, I love you, and wish to claim you as mate.”

“If that was a marriage proposal, I accept.”

“I did make a declarative statement to that effect.”  

McCoy rose.  The two embraced and kissed.  Holding hands, they went to the sofa.

Later, as they lay in bed after making love, Spock’s fingers languidly traced a line through the hair on McCoy’s chest.

McCoy said, “There was one time I let myself think about the possibility you might love me.  Just after the court martial, right around the time you went back to Vulcan.  Your reactions to your memories of Natira and Tonia made me wonder.  But I figured I was deluding myself, you couldn’t possibly be in love with me.  Besides, you were so changed after the fal-tor-pan, your personality and memory not really restored.”

McCoy sat up, staring at Spock in alarm.  “I’m not dreaming this, am I?  Not losing my marbles from some delayed reaction to the fal-tor-pan?”

Spock said, “No, ashayam, you are not dreaming.  Or losing your marbles.”

“Well, if I am losing my marbles, I’m not sure I want to get them back.”  McCoy settled again into Spock’s arms.  “Spock, what made you start getting back your memories?”

“When you asked me what it was like to die, I began to recall times when you were close to death.”

I knew that already, McCoy thought.  There was more to it than that.

Spock’s hand, its movement no longer languid, had wandered lower.  McCoy did not pursue the topic.