Of course he would have his grand revelation as he lay dying.

Leonard McCoy prided himself on a keen grasp of human nature and a thorough understanding of his crew-mates, unfortunately, that insight rarely extended to himself.

He lay on the unforgiving stone surface of a foreign planet, looking up at a sky that was nothing like the deep blue of Georgia, agony shooting through his veins and the bitter taste of blood pooling at the back of his throat. In the distance, he could still hear the away team calling for him, but try as he might he couldn't get his voice above a hoarse whisper. It wasn't Leonard's nature to give up, but he thought something of Spock must have rubbed off on him after all these years together, because all he could think as he felt the pain turn to a dull prickle was that it was patently illogical to attempt an action once he had already established its inefficacy.

Damn. He even heard it in the hobgoblin's voice. That was his undoing, the thought that finally brought the first sting of tears to his eyes; not the improbability of survival, not how helpless he felt or alone… just the memory of Spock's voice, infinitely reassuring in its mellow, even cadences.

Leonard mustered every ounce of stubborn determination he had left and shifted, feeling fiery anguish rack him again. He never could stand to watch a man suffer, but just now it was a comfort that he was still clinging to life enough to feel it. If Jim and company could reach him soon, there would still be time. He fixated on that, feeling hope flair when the echoing voices drew nearer and die again when they faded out. His normally skilled hands were so clumsy, and he couldn't seem to think beyond immediate sensation. He fumbled briefly, pressing as heavily as he could on the seeping wound in his side; he was breathing yet, his lungs weren't punctured.

Fear was nothing new to Leonard McCoy but panic was. He forced it down as soon as he felt it building, replacing desperate, voiceless pleas with cherished memories. It was funny how many of those included Spock.

When their frequent arguments had ceased to be an annoyance and become a pleasure he didn't know, but Leonard found himself dwelling on those bitter fights, replaying them in his mind's eye until his body was only a distant sensory impression. He had always enjoyed needling the Vulcan, sensing a man that was his perfect complement, both of them strong-willed and neither lacking in conviction.

It was that zealotry that so often set them at odds, and after years of working together, Leonard could admit in this final, private moment that he had learned to respect it. Leonard didn't think there were many Vulcans capable of mustering the passion to defend their beliefs so fiercely against a constant onslaught- especially when confronted with evidence to the contrary, he thought smugly. Spock wasn't here to challenge him on it anyway, though Leonard could well imagine that delicate arch of his brow that would somehow manage to convey disbelief, disagreement, and the subtle threat of retaliation all at once had he been around to hear the assessment.

A snort of laughter brought him back to the present, his tears finally spilling down his cheeks at the involuntary spasm. One of his ribs was broken but the numbness of shock was beginning to wear away. That was a good sign. He repeated it like a mantra, trying desperately to convince himself of it as he dipped back into the stillness of his own thoughts again, adjusting his hands to compensate for the newly discovered injury.

Leonard tried to consider Jim in all this. His captain wouldn't be taking this too well, not after being the one to insist that Leonard accompany the away team. It was only supposed to have been a quick geographical survey, and after missing out on shore leave owing to an outbreak of the Rigellian flu aboard ship, Jim had meant this to be an easy assignment, just a distraction to pull him out of sickbay for a few hours. Pity their scans hadn't been able to detect lifeforms for all the ionic disturbance. It would have saved them a lot of pain and heartbreak.

Maybe not heartbreak. Not if he could hold on until his team found him, and they would if they had to scour the entire planet on foot, Leonard knew.

His thoughts drifted aimlessly, unable to focus despite his best efforts, inevitably it all came back to Spock.

The first officer had gone off in the company of Sulu, both of them more interested in cataloging the local flora than assisting Chekov with collecting dust and water samples. Spock and Jim had both been very clear that no one was to be on their own at any time. Leonard still wasn't sure if it was his imagination that made it seem like they had both been looking pointedly in his direction as they lectured. Assuming he survived Jim was going to write him up something fierce, but Leonard had been so sure he had heard something screaming, and to ignore it was beyond him. He'd been right. And wrong. All of that could be saved for the report he was going to write as soon as he was back aboard.

Feeling his pulse beginning to race, Leonard turned back inward, seeking out a quiet moment to relive. He could remember nights in the captain's quarters, Jim grinning widely while he and Spock ignored their dinners in favor of sniping at each other across the expanse of the table. Spock had inevitably chosen Leonard's profession as his point of attack, criticizing everything from his equipment to professional methods to the way he ran the ship's sickbay. Leonard had in turn immediately honed in on Spock's heritage, a sore point he was well acquainted with after too many sensitivity briefings to count.

Later, as he inevitably sat stewing over Spock's parting comments, Jim had often jokingly accused him of pulling Spock's pigtails like a girl he liked but was too shy to talk to without the excuse of a knock-down, drag out fight.

Not entirely inaccurate.

Leonard stopped breathing for all of a second while he considered the permutations of that errant thought. The edge of his vision whitened and he hurriedly sucked in another gasping breath, half-sobbing with effort. Damn. Another breath, a stabbing pain, another still until finally his vision stopped wavering.

In the end it always came back to Spock. And much as he might have liked to deny it, Spock wasn't the thorn in his side Leonard had always insinuated. Well, he was, but Leonard didn't know what he would do if the Vulcan ever stopped responding to his taunts.

Pulling pigtails.

Thirty years gone and he was still all of nine years old, and Jim the only one savvy enough to spot it.

Not that he would ever have the chance to tell Jim as much if his circumstances didn't change right quickly. At least that spared him the indignity of admitting it to Spock too; as if that computer needed another excuse to be self-satisfied.

Even as he struggled, his breath came shorter. No amount of pressure was sparking pain, and his fingers were done cooperating; they no longer felt cold, he couldn't even tell if he was moving them. Dammit, not now. Please not now. Just a minute longer-

Len thought he must be hallucinating the sound of booted feet scuffling frantically down the edge of the sheer, the chirp of a communicator and an impossibly familiar voice, welcome in a way he would have been pleased to admit for once if his lips weren't slack and unresponsive.

"I have located Dr. McCoy, medics are required at the following coordinates-"

No way in hell could he have imagined the edge in Spock's voice, an unmistakable tremor underlying the words that Leonard was certain he had never heard before, not in his wildest dreams. He tried to respond, offer some assurance that he was conscious and aware, but that state was tenuous at best and the attempt robbed him of what pitiful strength he had salvaged. His vision faded, muscles failing so that even a twitch was impossible.

Leonard was awake only long enough to feel cool fingers weaving through his own; a curious wave of reassurance and determination surged through him, but he didn't have more than a second to wonder at it before light swallowed him.

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The hum of the Enterprise's engines was a familiar sound after two years aboard ship; it wove itself through his dreams and memories until Leonard couldn't be sure whether he was awake or sleeping. Voices drifted in and out of his awareness too, sometimes Jim, mostly Geoff. He thought once he might even have heard a stern "Stop, Leonard." In Spock's voice. That couldn't be right though, Spock seldom addressed him by name and never without making it sound like a vile epithet.

Which made it all the more surprising when he opened his eyes to find Spock leaning over him, one hand clamped firmly about his wrist and his own tangled around an IV. Gently Leonard released it, trying to focus on the Vulcan's face but finding it more than a shade difficult. Bright floaters darted through his vision, flashes of light and specks of matter that he had to blink repeatedly to clear.

"Stopped." Leonard croaked, swallowing to test his throat. He was parched and the wetness stung all the way down, but at least there was no lingering taste of iron. He was breathing without having to hear the death rattle in his throat. That alone was enough to make him cooperative for once, even if only for a few astonished seconds.

Spock still hadn't released him, though his grip relaxed as soon as Leonard released the tube. He wouldn't look away either, and Leonard flinched from that too-knowing gaze. Vulcans were touch-telepaths, and while he knew Spock to be an honorable man-Vulcan- he wondered how much of his mental state the first officer could decipher from that innocuous touch alone. When he tried to pull away, Spock's grip tightened again. If Leonard had known him a little less, he might have confused that twitch of the lips for the beginning of a scowl. He could certainly see temper reflected in that direct gaze, though he knew Spock would emphatically deny it.

Leonard tried to speak, anything to break the accusatory silence between them, but his tongue still didn't want to respond. It took him two more tries before he could break eye contact and muster up an all too subdued, "What th'hell are you doing in my sickbay, Hobgoblin? Get back to the bridge."

Even that small defiance robbed him of breath, but Leonard stubbornly held on to his scowl, determined to win this contest of wills. Just because he'd had a once in a lifetime revelation didn't mean he was going to be taking it easy on Spock any time soon. Far from it.

"The captain informed me of the change in your condition. In light of our circumstances, he requested that I be present for your awakening."

There were too many words in that one sentence Leonard didn't care for, listed in no particular order those were: change, our, circumstances, and awakening.

What bothered him even more was the minute he realized he couldn't hear the bustle of orderlies in the background, couldn't see anyone besides himself and Spock anywhere near. This was not standard procedure, and Spock still wouldn't let go of his wrist. Leonard yanked as hard as he could, unsurprised when it accomplished precisely nothing. He had performed enough of Spock's physicals to know Vulcans were too strong by half, and one recovering Human wasn't going to wriggle away with that frail effort.

"You gonna let me go anytime soon, Mister Spock?" It reassured him to hear his own voice, the dry amusement coating his words that Spock had long since given up understanding.

Spock glanced down, a flicker of surprise crossing his face when he noted his own pale skin against Leonard's tan. He pulled away as though struck by a viper while Leonard pretended he wasn't a little hurt by it.

"Good. Now you can call for M'Benga 'n get out. Your company isn't necessary." He was overcompensating, but how else to throw the Vulcan off his scent? And he could feel his nervousness building, seeing the determined frown that settled between Spock's brows.

"Before I can admit your staff, there are several facts you will wish to apprised of, doctor."

Leonard twitched his toes, testing his fingertips for sensation along the edge of his nails and taking stock of the myriad aches throughout his body: dull and unremarkable, his condition was fully responsive. Though there was a curious pressure at the back of his head that felt like a stress headache building. Was it any wonder, being subjected to the the first officer's questionable mercies so soon after his awakening?

"Such as?"

Spock considered him in silence, and though Leonard was sure it couldn't have been more than a matter of seconds, it felt like an eternity with Spock's gaze focused on him to the exclusion of all else; like he was the center of all universes both known and unknown.

"Spock, I hurt. I would appreciate it if you could just spit it out." His tone was weary and resigned, nothing like the snappish response he had intended, but he was tired, body was still resisting this new wakefulness, and that pressure in his skull was building-

"You have been unconscious for approximately three days in a medically induced coma. This is not the first time that you have regained consciousness, though this is your first sustained conversation and longest conscious interval. Captain Kirk has requested that I not divulge further details until I have made certain of your condition."

"What the hell is my condition, Mister Spock, because you're makin' an awful lot of it, and far as I can see my only trouble now is going to be avoiding the brig."

"That is unlikely, doctor. The captain has been apprised of the details regarding your conduct planetside and is satisfied that all conditions were met for extenuating circumstances."

How did he find out?

"Dammit, man. Come to the point." It was more of a muffled growl than an exasperated shout, but Spock met his gaze for the first time since he had deliberately looked away and uttered the last words Leonard H. McCoy had ever expected to hear outside of the tawdry, sensationalist romances that made their way around the ship every few months.

"Your injuries were critical, and transportation aboard ship was rendered impossible by an unpredictable shift in atmospheric conditions- the same interference that prevented our equipment from detecting your transponder- the medical team confirmed that without interference your injuries would prove fatal. In a final attempt to prevent your demise, I initiated a bond. While the effects have been temporarily reduced pharmaceutically, this was meant only as a temporary measure."

Bonded. To Spock. Leonard tamped down on his instinctive panic, drawing several deep breaths before he dared to speak. Thankfully, Spock seemed to sense his need to direct the conversation. Perhaps the bond hadn't been dulled on his end. Did he even require touch now that they were linked? Leonard gathered his wits, biting back a scathing response; this was not the time for blame-shifting and recriminations. Spock always acted logically; if bonding meant saving a life, then of course he would do it. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

That didn't make Leonard any less furious, terrified, and concerned. What would it do to Spock, being bonded to a Human whose presence he could hardly stand on the best of days? He hated himself even more for considering that while his own fate was still so uncertain.

All he could think to say was, "What does that mean in a sentence or less?"

Spock rose, his manner oddly solicitous as he tucked the thin blanket nearer to Leonard's body, hands brushing unconsciously against exposed skin while he straightened the medical gown draped over his shoulders. Vulcan perfectionism knew no bounds. "Rest, doctor, we will return to this discussion when you are recovered."

Leonard slipped into unconsciousness like he had only been awaiting permission, unreasonably disappointed that Spock hadn't said his name once more.

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Spock wasn't there when he woke again, but Christine and M'Benga were crowding close. That was hardly his most pressing concern, more remarkable was that strange awareness at the back of his mind. It wasn't intrusive, not an invader or a parasite, but it was certainly something other.

Oh. Spock. M'Benga had decided to let his dosage lapse then- Leonard pushed the thought to the back of his mind, ignoring the fear, curiosity and frustration that rose up in equal measure. "No offense, Geoff, but you look like death warmed over."

Not so much as a smile, though Len could see his features soften slightly; Christine nodded to herself, tapping a few last notes on a PADD before she strode away from the bed, the pneumatic hiss of the door and the click of her heels in the hall enough to warn him that whatever was coming would have to be between himself and his physician. Geoff knew then, about the bond. About Spock.

Leonard cleared his throat, "Am I fit for duty, doctor?" He didn't feel like it, but the sooner he was up and moving the sooner he could put his fragmenting thoughts in order.

"How are you feeling, Len?"

"If I had my druthers, I'd already be gone. You've got nothing to worry about; Spock already told me everything. Good to see he's finally back to his post."

"That's good." M'Benga was still distracted, eyeing his vital readouts with a keen eye. "There hasn't been much change in your status. I've been monitoring neural activity, of course-"

"Of course."

"We've decreased your dampeners. If you focus, you should be able to get a feel for the bond."

Leonard pulled a face, "No focus required. I thought you must've cut me off entirely."

"No, not yet. I thought it would be advisable to give you a few days to accustom yourself to it with some judicious intervention."

"I appreciate it."

He wasn't even off the drugs and already he was hyper-aware of that new presence tucked in his thoughts; paranoia had him scrambling to think of something nonsensical, trying desperately not to remember those last few minutes of consciousness. He could've sworn he felt a flicker of interest in that pocket of otherness, but it could as easily have been his overwrought mind playing tricks.

Leonard shifted, swallowing back a cry when his entire body protested the small movement. Geoff leapt forward to put a restraining arm on his chest, holding him in place until his breathing steadied again.

"What th'hell was that?"

"The trauma from the fall left your pelvis in pieces. I put you back together a few days ago." Geoff tried for a reassuring chuckle and even half-managed it, "But it'll be awhile before you're ready for knocking down obstacle courses. You'll be walking out on your own steam," he hastened to clarify, seeing Leonard's mulish look, "I just think you'll appreciate a little assistance."

Leonard leaned back, drawing a deep breath meant to soothe that did nothing of the sort. As far as bad news went, this wasn't terrible. At least he wasn't confined here for observation any longer; it just sat ill with him, being the last to know. It seemed a lot had gone on without him these past few days, and Leonard was left scrambling for a sense of his place in a world order that had shifted far too quickly.

Days.

"How long was I out this time?"

"Commander Spock left four hours ago."

Not bad then. Not good either. More than anything he wanted to bury himself beneath the thin blanket and sleep for another week or so, and that was precisely why he had to be on his feet the very second M'Benga cleared him. Damned if this was going to throw him off balance in anything more than the strictly literal sense. Chagrined, Leonard twisted and adjusted his weight, assessing the pinpricks of icy pain that ran down his legs and up his back. Had he been ten years younger Leonard kidded himself he could have been walking by now.

Age brought wisdom; he knew better than to believe it. He shifted again, bracing for pain; this second time around it was not so sharp, or at least it didn't manage to steal his breath, but without help recovery was going to be agony.

"I don't suppose I could request the loan of a cane?"

M'Benga smiled with open relief, evidently pleased he would not have to make it an order. Leonard tamped down on his annoyance; he had a reputation for stubbornness, true, but he wasn't pigheaded, dammit.

"I'll have Chapel deliver it later tonight. She wants your approval for the lab roster."

"No need. I'll be working again by beta shift tomorrow."

The door hissed open just as M'Benga drew a breath to deliver what Leonard suspected was meant to be a resounding negative. Jim swept between them before he could finish the thought, dropping onto the edge of Leonard's bed with enviable finesse. The look Geoff was giving him said plainly this discussion wasn't over, but he withdrew into the back to allow them a few minutes of privacy.

Guilt prompted Leonard to speak before Jim could get a word in edgewise; "I'm sorry for what happened planetside-"

"I'm just glad you're here to regret it, Bones." Jim sagged against the headboard, offering a tired smile, "Try not to do this to me again. The entire team just about lost their minds when they realized you had vanished. You're supposed to be cavalry, not front lines."

"I'm guessing Spock told you the local fauna took a dislike to my person?"

"In vivid detail. You took a few years off his life, not to mention mine." Jim hesitated, likely debating the wisdom of bringing up Spock so soon. As captain, he could hardly ignore it, but as a friend his first impulse would be to delay a little longer. Wanting to spare him, Leonard seized the bull by the horns.

"I think you owe me congratulations."

"Oh?" He composed his expression into something suitably neutral, but Leonard could see him fretting over whether the fall hadn't knocked something loose upstairs.

"It sounds like I've gone and got engaged to your second."

Jim sighed, "Don't take this one out on Spock. I gave my clearance almost before he requested it, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. It'll be a month yet before we can make Vulcan, but Spock assures me there are healers qualified and willing to dissolve the bond."

"I'm gonna have to thank the hobgoblin, aren't I?"

"That's between you and Spock."

Leonard sighed, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes against the piercing glow of the sickbay lights. "Dammit, Jim. I can feel him in there, like he's waiting to pounce the minute I let my guard down."

"Mr. Spock is one of the fleet's finest officers and an honorable man by all accounts. He wouldn't." Jim murmured, stern but gentle.

"I know, Jim, I'm just tired. Think you could give me some time?"

Jim nodded his understanding, slipping from the bed and prowling out before Leonard could mumble even a cursory farewell.

It looked like as far as bonding went, he was on his own.

Carefully he prodded at that pocket of Spock in his periphery, wondering in what he hoped was the sanctity of his own thoughts whether he would ever truly be alone again.

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A.N. While this fic is finished, there will be a brief delay between updates so that I can edit/clean up. Thanks for reading!