The Andorians were far from allies as far as the Federation was concerned, but Leonard had to admit they knew how to throw one hell of a celebratory bash. Unfortunately he couldn't bring himself to participate in the festivities. He had lost sight of Jim hours ago, busy congratulating the Andorian ambassador on the ratification of a new treaty that would supposedly diminish hostilities between Vulcan and Andorian colonies. Given the ambassador's reaction to Spock's presence, Leonard wouldn't have put any serious credits on its success.

Appearances had to be observed, so Leonard dutifully decked himself out in a dress uniform, attended the endless debriefing on Andorian customs and slogged through nearly fifty pages of etiquette all to stand awkwardly in the corner, leaning heavily on his cane for support and silently wishing that he had taken Jim up on that offer to retire immediately after the preliminary meeting.

The pins that still held parts of his pelvis neatly in place were hurting him tonight, more so than usual. Against M'Benga's advice, he had dispensed with taking his normal pain-killers. It was sheer pigheadedness that had made him do it, Len could admit it now but that didn't change anything so why dwell on it? Instead he contented himself with sipping carefully at the ale so thoughtfully provided by their hosts. Scotty had warned him the stuff was more potent than he could expect, but after two glasses Leonard still wasn't feeling any more than a comfortable warmth.

Even the heavy weight of Spock's bond felt lighter. He probed it absentmindedly, just relaxed enough that he was no longer concerned about Spock sensing the intrusion. If intrusion it was. Spock had often claimed Leonard could take nothing from him if it was not willingly offered, but given the sheer number of times Spock had accurately read him this past month, Leonard wasn't sure he could say the same. Normally he tried to shy away from the constant reminder at the back of his mind, the source of no small amount of guilt on Spock's part. He could still feel that much, and it inevitably left him feeling apologetic and ashamed.

It had been his choice to avoid a severance, but with so many risks and no guarantee of success…

Leonard enjoyed his life, he enjoyed having Spock around to share it with, even if they hadn't spoken in a week. Not since that disastrous encounter over chess-

In the end it was his fault. The whole damn mess could have been avoided entirely if he had been paying more attention to his surroundings or had commed Jim the moment he suspected something was off-

That sort of thinking was unproductive. 'What ifs' served no purpose now. There was Spock's influence showing; he had warned Leonard that certain mannerisms might begin to manifest between them, even, or perhaps especially, with the added discipline of meditation. So far he had seen no sign that the effect was mutual, but for himself, Leonard swore he could feel the gears of a Vulcan mind turning sometimes within his own head.

Spock's presence felt muted, deliberately so. He was probably trying to make the evening easier for his bondmate by making his presence as unobtrusive as possible.

Mate. Leonard still couldn't think the word without shying away, a light blush painting itself along his cheekbones that had nothing to do with his drink. He and Spock were mates, except that they weren't. Because Spock wouldn't touch him. They hadn't actually touched since he had woken in the infirmary, not more than a thoughtless brush of their sleeves and one swift grab for his arm as balance failed him.

For a man as tactile as he, it was nothing less than torture. Worse yet, the whole damn crew knew they were bonded, knew the circumstances around it, and still Leonard could feel their curious eyes every time his feet carried him toward his own quarters rather than the first officer's.

Ever since he had admitted to Geoff that they were not going through with the severance- and ignore everything Spock hinted to the contrary- it felt like the whole ship was holding its breath, just waiting for him and Spock to start some sort of grand romance.

Hell, even Leonard had hoped for that at first in the privacy of his own mind, as much of his mind as it was anymore.

They were bonded, until death or a Vulcan healer did them part. The latter would likely cause the former, so it was plain off the table as far as Leonard was concerned. The bond felt like it had been there forever rather than six weeks, and with each passing day Leonard found he grew less wary of it, more accepting of its presence, particularly since Spock had only ever made use of it to protect him. There had been no uninvited forays, no curious prying at his boundaries. Clearly his curiosity hadn't got the better of him, probably because Leonard's mind was so pitifully Human as to be completely uninteresting.

"Bones, you're looking pensive."

Leonard started, the ale sloshing in his cup and spilling over onto his hands. He held it away from his shirt, scowling at Jim in fine form.

"Just wonderin' how long this new peace'll last, captain."

Jim shot him a quelling glance, rocking back on his heels. "Save your speculation until we're back aboard the Enterprise. I don't want any tales reaching the ambassador."

Leonard sighed, eyeing his glass regretfully, "Sorry, Jim, maybe I've had a bit too much."

"I agree." No disapproval laced his tone, but Leonard could see worry reflected in Jim's dark eyes. He needed to change the subject before this turned into a well-meaning interrogation.

"You seen Spock anywhere?" Wrong topic. Jim's eyes lit with delight for all of a second before he schooled his expression to one of disinterest.

"I think he might have gone outside. He was making the Andorian delegation nervous."

More than anything Leonard wanted to head outside for a breath of fresh air. Maybe he could catch Spock in the darkness while everyone else was busy being so hectically alive and determinedly energetic in here. They could share a few minutes of silence, bask in each other's company without any words until Leonard finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing him since Spock had first admitted the disaster he was courting in seeking out a healer to have their bond dissolved.

Why am I not good enough? You'd rather risk permanent injury than spend a Human lifetime anywhere near my thoughts? Humanity's not catching, I swear.

For a moment he thought he could feel another presence there, shadowing his own thoughts. Spock said the bond wouldn't work like that, not when one of them was lacking in any telepathic ability. In other words, inferior. It was an unequal bond, and Spock would far prefer risking his ability, his sanity even, than risk spending another fifty or so years tied down to a lesser species.

That was the alcohol talking, it had to be because Leonard knew he'd never been this bitter. He didn't like it by a long-shot.

"How much longer 'til we can decently call it a night?"

"Any time now, Bones, policy only requires the officer in charge. I suppose I'm still captain even after a few hours away."

"S'pose so." Leonard grinned, "Seein' as we're both playing wallflower, I guess I'll be keeping you company for the evening."

Jim frowned, scanning the crowd none too subtly for another face. He was the unquestionable chief of the conspiracy that was trying its hardest to make sure Leonard and Spock were together at every opportunity. Their own preferences hardly mattered in the face of Kirk's determination. He didn't like to see discord among his crew, and Leonard knew his own melancholy had hardly slipped Jim's notice. It was a few minutes before he finally gave up on the fruitless search for his first officer and responded.

"That's good. I've been meaning to talk to you for awhile now."

Leonard tapped his cane in a mock-thoughtful way, lifting a warning brow in Jim's direction- a habit that had become altogether more prevalent since… well.

"I hope this isn't about Spock."

Jim grinned, the merest quirk of mischief in his expression. "Then I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you." He sobered almost instantly, mood changing so swiftly Leonard could see no trace of the smile before. "You need to patch things up. Both of you. It's got the entire crew on edge, the way you're dancing around each other these days. I've tried speaking with Spock, but he's denying any emotional investment-"

"Vulcans don't lie."

"Humans do, and much as the two of you like pretending otherwise, Spock has a very Human half. If you've opted not to undergo the severance procedure, and frankly I'm not sure I would allow it with the risks being what they are, then the two of you are going to have to come to an arrangement."

"You make it all sound so sordid." Leonard commented dryly.

"I think all our lives would be easier if that was the case. As it is, I think we would all prefer your constant bickering to this conspiracy of silence."

"I'll take it under advisement, captain."

Jim sighed deeply, and Leonard didn't like the stern expression that settled on his brow one bit. "I didn't want to make this an order, McCoy, but you may consider it so now. Fix this in whatever way you and Spock can agree on. I need my entire crew in top shape at all times, and your respective behaviors are beginning to endanger that."

Leonard snapped to attention, gritting his teeth at the white fire that raced along his nerves at the unexpected gesture. "In that case, I think I had better make my way back to the ship. Lord knows I'll need all the help I can get devising a strategy to get him to so much as look at me, let alone exchange a few words."

Jim blinked, face assuming that same neutral expression he employed over a negotiating table or poker game. "Has that been a problem lately?"

"You know damn well it has. How many times've you had to order me to keep my mouth shut? You think I don't want to talk this out? Spock won't have it. He's dead set on ignoring me until I agree to his terms. If it weren't for his stubborn pride, that walking computer would never have saved me to begin with and he's certainly had ample opportunity to regret it now."

It wasn't Jim's silence that tipped him off, though that would have been a cue in and of itself if he had been paying attention. No, it was that sudden flurry in that small part of his thoughts that he was learning to ignore with painstaking work, though not without considerable effort. Spock was near, and perturbed if that unintentional slip was anything to go by.

Leonard turned too quickly, vision going spotty with pain, he kept his feet through sheer discipline, swallowing back a cry of shock.

Spock stood there, not seven feet from him, disbelief and outrage written plainly on his face for Leonard to read if no one else. He wasn't sure how much of that impression was the sympathy of their link and how much his own understanding of Spock's body language. Either way, once he had steadied himself he took a careful step back to put distance between them. A diplomatic affair was not the place for a domestic dispute.

He could feel the small pocket of Spock in his mind unfurling like a dragon rousing from sleep, and the sheer alienness of it was enough to make him dizzy again.

"I'll see you aboard ship, captain." Hastily he started off, cursing the limp that kept him from dashing for the safety of the transport room. Not that he believed Spock would do him any harm, but instinct made him want to flee when he felt the Vulcan fall into step beside him, matching his stride step for step and draping an arm about his hips in an uncharacteristic display of possessiveness. Leonard could feel confusion, disappointment, anger, relief- hope? All swirling in him. With the bond as open as it was, he couldn't tell where one began and the other ended, couldn't begin to guess where the contradictions were introduced.

He loathed how pathetically pleased he was with the contact, the way his body steadily curved into Spock, seeking out the reassuring sturdiness of the man beside him. Not a word was spoken between them all the way to the transporter room, and Leonard could feel nervousness gathering under his skin, neck prickling with all the awareness of prey scenting its predator.

As soon as the thought formed it was wiped away, Leonard could practically feel Spock nudging his mind away from that thought, chagrin interweaving with frustration. He bit back an angry accusation until they stood at the door to his quarters at last. He was not about to have this confrontation in the corridor where any ensign could hear it. He jabbed his code in forcefully, ignoring the way Spock crowded against him as they shuffled inside, waiting for the door to close before he finally gave his tongue free reign.

Except that whatever words he had meant to speak were stifled when Spock's fingers twined with his own in a way Leonard recognized from not too long ago. For a moment he was lying the dust again, forcing breath from his battered lungs. It rattled him enough that Spock was able to steal the first words, sneaky ploy that it had been to distract him.

"I do not regret my actions, Leonard, as you would know had you ever taken the time to examine the bond with any care. I have not blocked myself from you. it has been your choice to abstain from our connection-"

"You left me. You reported my condition and you left before I ever had the chance to get a word in edgewise. Then you suggest to Jim, your captain, before my colleagues, that you want rid of me as fast as is humanly possible. You willfully conceal the details of the procedure you're suggesting, don't bother bringing it up until Jim orders you and now you accuse me of avoidance? I learned it from the best."

"I did not want to pressure you into accepting a commitment for which you had not been adequately prepared."

"No need, Spock, we were only in this until you could find a healer competent and unscrupulous enough to near scramble our brains tryin' to root out this connection you made."

"You would not have been damaged in the event of failure, I believe the risk is only to inherently telepathic species."

"Do you think Jim won't object to losing his second over your complicated Vulcan divorce procedures?"

"The dissolution of a mental bond cannot be compared to the cancellation of a legal contract."

"Careful, Spock, much more romantic 'n that and I might swoon." Leonard set the cane aside, making his way over to his chair and settling carefully in it. His fingers still felt an echo of pressure from Spock's own and he rubbed them together thoughtlessly, savoring the last of the contact. The bond had flared to roaring life in his head, the way it hadn't in all the weeks of their 'tip-toeing'. Figured they'd feel closest when finally bickering like an old married couple once more.

"You could've said something. We've gone weeks without exchanging more'n a handful of words. You've been coddling and cooing, haven't had a cross word or a sharp comment for me since the accident. Why, Spock?"

"I wanted to be sure you were recovered. You were overwhelmed with the bond; it is not uncommon, when bonding with a non-telepathic species to encounter emotional transference."

"I think the most remarkable part of that is hearing you admit Vulcans have feelings."

"I could not be sure your thoughts were not merely a reflection of my own."

Implying that Spock had been poking at that tentative link, implying that there was more than simply professionalism between them. Perhaps even-

"I have a deep regard for you, Leonard, and would not see it jeopardized for haste."

The words left his mouth before he could consider them, a blatant challenge he hadn't meant to issue but couldn't regret when it hung between them, "Prove it."

Spock crossed the space between them without hesitation, fingers seeking out the psi-points on Leonard's face before he could think to withdraw.

"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts."

The next moment, images and impressions were flooding through him: himself seen through the eyes of another, imperfections glossed over, ignored, others exaggerated until they became almost virtues. Biting frustration, unwilling fondness, abiding respect and a longing just beneath like a man dying for even a raindrop of water in a drought. He staggered beneath the onslaught, uncaring because Spock had caught him up and was supporting their burden like it was less than nothing.

Leonard relaxed into that hold, tentatively offering a few of his own impressions, offering parts of his mind he had intended to always be his own. It was impossible to feel shame when he could feel Spock seizing on them almost greedily, making them as much a part of himself as his partner.

"I thought you'd been forced. I thought the med crew would have-" It hadn't happened like that. He could feel Spock fighting to remain steady while he examined the extent of Leonard's injuries weeks ago, despair and determination mixing in equal measure. The relief and overwhelming guilt when the med crew had conceded that he could form the bond under these conditions, the promise Spock had made to himself that when Leonard was of sound mind and body again they would attempt a severance. He would atone for this egregious violation of trust.

And in turn, Leonard finally released that grand revelation, the one that had been plaguing him since that near-tragedy over a month ago.

Shock radiated through him, a perfect reflection of Spock's reaction. Embarrassment, his own, but painted across Spock's cheekbones in a light shade of green. What a pair they made: neither one of them objecting half so strongly to the bond as it had seemed, both reluctant to surrender it despite their initial misgivings.

There was no space between them for misconceptions, not with Spock's mind twined around and through his own, every impulse laid bare-

Leonard wrenched himself away from it, disconcerted and hurrying to erect their walls once more. He could sense Spock's reluctance, the desire to delve just that bit deeper- to quantify and qualify- ever the scientist. They had shared too much tonight though, stress and alcohol taking their toll, the pull this connection exerted over both of them. 'Emotional transference' indeed.

He scrambled to be the first to break the silence between them, speaking aloud the conclusion he knew they had both reached. "I guess-"

Leonard cleared his throat and tried again, managing a tone only slightly less shaken. "There's that settled then. I won't be hearing any more about a severance?"

"If you are not averse-"

"I am averse."

"Will you permit me to finish?" Annoyance. Leonard could have laughed aloud at the offense painted in broad strokes on Spock's features. Perhaps he was the martyr in their unconventional match after all.

"By all means."

"If you are not averse, I am willing to maintain our bond."

"I thought we'd settled that."

A dangerous glance, laden with reproach greeted his pronouncement. Leonard hurriedly bit his tongue.

"However, I do not consider it complete."

"I don't know-"

"I am requesting your permission to initiate a Vulcan courtship, Dr. McCoy. In light of this more permanent arrangement, I believe it would benefit us greatly to strengthen our commitment."

The ale had surely gone to his head. Either that or Spock had all but asked his hand in marriage. Hell, they were closer than married and now Spock was only just getting around to asking him out to dinner in human terms. The enormity of the situation struck him then. He had agreed to something permanent. A bond spanning the remainder of his lifetime, possibly plaguing Spock long after that.

And now Spock was, impossibly, asking to court him, asking to make this connection even more tangible and invasive.

He was an idiot because the only words he could think to muster in the face of that hopelessly unromantic declaration was a muffled: "You're right. We should… we should do something."

It occurred to him then that he didn't even know what a 'Vulcan' courtship was. Obviously it differed enough from the Human idea that Spock felt the need to add the qualifier. Courtship and Vulcan were two words he had never expected to hear in the same sentence. Leonard belatedly realized that he was a little leery of having his questions answered, considering all he had seen of Pon Farr.

Spock however, gave no indication that he had noticed Leonard's distress. The impression Leonard had was one of nervousness commingled with slightly less relief.

"Then I will leave you for tonight, doctor. I suggest that you refrain from taking your medication until morning; it has been known to have a number of adverse effects when combined with alcohol."

Leonard shook off his misgivings, not quite able to muster his usual sunny smile, still lost in his own thoughts. "Course not. I'm not an idiot."

"I did not mean to imply you were in any way lacking. Good night, doctor."

"Good night, Spock." The words tripped off his tongue by rote, almost mechanical, but as the door hissed open he found the words he wanted to say at last.

"Spock."

Spock glanced back, concern tinging the pocket in the back of Leonard's mind that seemed to have expanded even since they had boarded the ship.

"Seeing as this is going to be a permanent affair." Oh. "You might call me Leonard from now on."

Spock lingered in his doorway a moment longer, unblinking. Leonard tried not to examine what Spock's thoughts were telling him too closely.

"Good night, Leonard."

The next moment, he was gone.

!

!

!

Concepts such as 'morning' and 'evening' were meaningless aboard the Enterprise. Spock had heard that newer vessels came equipped with atmospheric controls that manipulated both the lighting and ambient temperatures of these times of day according to preset data. On the Enterprise, it was only a matter of knowing one's shift schedule that determined waking and sleeping hours.

He was meant to resume his duties on the Gamma shift; irregular but not unheard of. Beta shift found him still awake and alert, seated on the edge of his bed as he stared unseeing at the statuette on his table. Dr. McCoy- Leonard now, and likely ever after, liked to goad him saying there must be something vaguely pagan about him to keep such an effigy in his quarters. Until last night he would never have made the intuitive leap that Leonard's pointed comments had been meant to indicate latent affection for his idiosyncrasies.

Last night- Delta shift- had taught him that he was, despite his every belief, a creature of contradictions. Never had he more keenly felt his Human blood than that unguarded moment when he had dared to abolish the last barrier between Leonard and he.

It had been nothing short of a revelation, a new discovery, one shared between only they two. The first of many, he was certain now that they knew their bond would persist. His footsteps felt lighter though he had not adjusted the grav controls since setting them back to Vulcan standard. Spock acknowledged the vague feeling of disappointment that Leonard would be on sleep rotation this shift. He had been hard at work through the latter half of Alpha shift, unable to sleep. All through the start of Beta he had pressed insistently against the increasingly thin boundaries dividing his own consciousness from Spock's, drawn now to what they had only briefly attempted.

In time they could easily dwell within each other's thoughts without the risk of losing their personal integrity. For now, Spock would urge caution, as with any experiment involving the combination of volatile and highly reactive elements.

Slowly he began to prepare for his shift, considering the best course of action to take. Leonard had not been entirely himself last night, a lack of any pain managing drugs combined with the muted effect of alcohol and too long spent inactive had made him considerably less guarded than usual. Still, he had agreed with Spock's assertion that they must learn to adapt to each other. How better than to incorporate their respective courtship rituals?

'Peacocking', Spock had heard Leonard call it in the past, and indeed the Human ideal of courtship seemed to be dedicated to a show of compatibility, usually achieved through slight misdirection and abnormally pleasant behavior.

A Vulcan courtship was predicated on the idea of suitability, not always synonymous with compatibility. That the bond had formed between them with so little effort should have been the natural conclusion of such a courtship- the proof that they were matched equally in every way that mattered. Leonard would not agree. He so seldom did. Therefore the objective would be to convince him he could not have made a better selection of a mate even if fate had not taken a hand.

Fate. It was not a word Vulcans used lightly; the only word that existed for it in his natural tongue was borrowed from Romulan, and most Vulcans could not say it without a disapproving lilt.

Last night though, when Leonard had been so thoroughly a part of him he would have been hard pressed to draw a line between where one began and the other ended, he had felt the depth of Leonard's regard for him. He had felt the moment Leonard acknowledged that regard- lying broken and dying on the desolate planet. He had no choice but to credit the intervention of something greater than himself. It was undoubtedly that moment of self-reflection that had allowed Leonard to accept the bond that Spock had offered. Without it, he would surely have died.

Perhaps Leonard was correct in asserting there was some lingering Human superstition in him; before he left his quarters to take his place on the bridge, Spock offered a quiet, grudging thanks to whatever force it was that had not taken Leonard McCoy from him too soon.

It was Gamma shift and he should have been asleep, but Leonard found himself once more putting himself through his paces: the interminable stretching exercises that restored at least some of his flexibility. All through Alpha and Beta, he had focused the whole of his attention on his work. It was the most expedient method for avoiding his memories of last night.

Alone in his quarters at last he had nothing but time to dwell on them.

He was still nervous, still wondering what precisely had compelled him to share so much of himself. A strange worry perhaps. He should instead have wondered why, with such a strong connection between them, he had managed to resist sharing so much until now.

Spock certainly had not been deterred, had not mocked him for the endlessly confusing, entirely contradictory feelings churning in his mind. Whether those feelings were reciprocated was still a mystery to him, bur Leonard counted it a victory that the possibility had not been entirely rejected. The overwhelming impression he had of Spock's reaction was surprise. Not unpleasant, not unwelcome, only unexpected.

And today would be the first day of their 'courtship'. What exactly that would entail still had Leonard's skin crawling with nervousness. How much more intimate could they be? Constantly connected, always peripherally aware of the other's state of mind.

Cut one and the other bleeds, he thought, wondering at the truth of it. If the bond was an empathetic connection did that mean Spock could sense the impulses firing in his nerve-endings, the occasional pin-prick of pain that still managed to escape all his careful safeguards? All sensation was processed through the brain, and the bond itself was a function of that-

Research. There was still so much research to be done, so many questions left unanswered that he intended to pursue until he had at least a vague idea of their answer. They could bond over that, Spock and he, both of them equally dedicated to the pursuit of truth and knowledge as they were. It was not the conventional idea of a 'courtship', but precisely nothing of their relationship had ever been conventional or orthodox.

He stretched too far and his muscles protested vociferously, locking and tensing until he had no choice but to grab for the sturdy support of his cane once more. Geoff hadn't yet worked up the courage to tell him this injury would be permanent, but Leonard sensed the news would not now be long in coming. He was simply too old to undergo some of the newer procedures, his body too slow to knit and heal. The limp, the slow but eventual onset of arthritis, these were inevitable but also entirely manageable.

The trick would be convincing Geoff he did not need or intend to fight it.

For today though, he was going to cheat. A slight adjustment to the grav controls would ease the last of his discomfort, giving him a return to normalcy at least in his own quarters. It wasn't a habit to encourage, indulge too often and he might compromise the integrity of his bones and muscle, but a slight adjustment combined with an increase in activity would do him no harm.

He made his way to the controls and keyed in his command code. The numbers reflected back at him were already far less than he had expected. Only slightly above eighty percent of Earth's gravity.

"Computer." Leonard murmured, not quite certain how to phrase his question.

"Computer, display code, time-frame sixty days to present. Eliminate personal ID."

And there it was, glowing on the screen before him, Spock's override code, last used to access environmental controls.

He was annoyed for a moment, confronted with another instance of Spock's meddling. But a smile crept to his lips despite himself at the thought of Spock being so vigilant that he was able to calculate the setting that would both soothe pain and manage to fall just beneath the detectable threshold of sensation. He left the grav controls set as they were, making his way to the infirmary to confirm another theory that had only just occurred to him.

"I'll be damned."

There it was, the incontrovertible evidence before his eyes. The infirmary's controls were set to Earth standard… this shift. In fact, every shift that was not his. His shifts though were the perfect mirror of the settings in his quarters.

"You sly dog," Leonard murmured, inspecting the fluctuations recorded in the data of the past few days. Spock had been meddling for weeks, ever since he had resumed his normal course of duties.

Only medical codes would have worked in his med-bay, which meant smart credits were on Geoff being an accomplice. Knowing how possessive the med staff could be of their environmentals, Leonard was sure he was far from willing. Not that Spock ever bothered himself with the opinions of medical except to provoke them.

Leonard jolted back to himself when he felt an echo of his own amusement, warm and inviting and decidedly other. This was what he would have missed if Spock had succeeded in concealing his intentions- the casual intimacy of it was still startling at times, but more than that it was grounding. It reassured him to feel the reflection of Spock's humanity and his own, interspersed with the peculiar workings of a Vulcan mind as well. He did not think it would ever cease to amaze him that such a thing were possible.

He doubted it would ever cease to humble him, knowing a mind of such boundless understanding found its match with his own.

"Leonard?"

Spock's voice didn't startle him in the slightest. For all that the bond did not come equipped with a proximity sensor as he had once jokingly suggested, he could feel the minute fluctuation of his pulse slowly ticking up to synchronize with Spock's own, the way his breath gradually evened out once Spock's attention turned to him.

"I found your bit of mischief here."

Spock's weight shifted guiltily, but his tone was nothing short of unrepentant. "I thought it might expedite your healing. M'Benga assures me it will do no harm provided you maintain your schedule of exercise."

"Are there any other little secrets you'd like to share, Spock? Anything else I am going to find?"

"No."

He really should have kept it to one question, Leonard reflected. He wasn't sure which one Spock had just answered.

"Was I incorrect in assuming your symptoms would ease?"

"It was a little presumptuous not to consult me." Leonard hedged.

"But you are not displeased." Spock concluded. It was useless to deny it, not when Spock could sense his sincerity or lack thereof.

"Thank you, Spock." The words didn't come easy. His tongue rebelled at the act of speaking them, throat nearly closing on the final syllable.

Clearly he needed more practice saying it. So he tried again, with genuine warmth: "Thank you, really."

Impossibly, it was those words that sent the barriers tumbling again, and Leonard knew without being told he could not draw them about himself any longer. The emotions reflected back at him were so similar and resonated with such familiarity that it was pointless to distinguish between which of them they had originated from:

Amusement, fondness, gratitude, hope, delight, excitement. All of them mixing so that he could not be sure which it was that made his stomach flutter tellingly, or which it was that had put the light in Spock's eye and a telling quirk of the lips on his face. He felt completed in a way their interminable meditation sessions had never achieved.

Most of all, he found, there was no fear there, not even the faintest tinge of nervousness.

"Leonard-"

Breathing, right. Very important. Leonard took a breath, then another, chuckling when he noticed Spock was visibly reminding himself to do the same. It looked the crew would never have their grand romance; Spock and he preferred their small moments, the million and one building blocks of a regard stronger and more lasting than circumstance.

"My God, we are a pair."

"Bondmates, in fact." Spock quipped dryly, offering an arm without prompting. Leonard took it, falling into step beside him, the cane clasped uselessly in the crook of his elbow. He didn't foresee needing it often when they were together. Without the self-imposed void to separate them, Leonard could feel Spock's pleasure in the thoughtless tactility of the gesture. Vulcans were a species of touch-telepaths. He knew now what it had cost Spock to keep from touching him, the conscious effort he had exerted at every turn to avoid compromising Leonard's sanctity of self.

Spock hummed agreement to the thought Leonard hadn't spoken aloud, tightening his grip only slightly. It disturbed him, the peculiar echo of Leonard's possessiveness that had begun to manifest in his behavior. The satisfaction he felt at providing for his mate's comfort, the pleasure in sensing the memory of Leonard in his quarters and the feeling of ease that had so completely blanketed him upon stepping foot into Leonard's space-

"When did you realize?" Leonard asked, still not entirely used to the idea of communicating without words. Once he had the hang of it he was certain they would drive Jim up the proverbial wall with their telling silences. All these years they had spent deliberately seeking out each other's company, nettling each other, the quibbling and the oneupmanship, taking in the lesser known facets of each other and delighting in their respective abilities to provoke a response. It was far from over; there were entirely new avenues of expression open to them.

A truly inspired thought occurred to him, one that made him walk just that bit faster, eager to reach his quarters so he could invite Spock in and see if that reduced gravity didn't come with secondary effects. He had always assumed that Vulcans were a naturally celibate species, hence the Pon Farr, but he could feel Spock's thoughts taking a decidedly amorous turn-

Only to deliberately, and with no small amount of effort much to Leonard's satisfaction, come back to the present.

"M-1826." Spock stated matter-of-factly. "When I saw you at the cliff-"

Sensory impressions overtook his words, swallowing Leonard in memory:

As he knelt to collect the sample, Spock felt as much as heard the doctor's cry. It sent a pang of sympathetic pain shivering up his spine, all thoughts temporarily suspended as he strove to suppress a sudden spike of adrenaline. The flask fell from his numbed hands, falling end over end to shatter on the rocks around them.

Sulu called after him as he sprinted toward the source of the cry, already well on the way before he realized where his legs were carrying him. Spock could taste a bitter tang at the back of his throat, feel a gasp of breath he couldn't quite force past the pressure in his chest. Leonard was reaching in a way that should have been impossible for a non-telepath. Or perhaps after all their years spent together his mind had simply come to recognize the draw of Leonard's own.

His feet turned in the direction he knew he had to go, hardly stumbling over the uneven terrain. Even after so many years, his time on Vulcan had served him well; the desert sand held no surprises for him. For Leonard though, any number of things might have been his undoing- where had his crew gone? Those men responsible for his protection? He should have insisted Leonard join the remainder of the survey team, should have kept him close. Leonard's curiosity was always meant to be the death of him.

Spock's feet skidded on the smooth rock at the edge of the drop-off, pebbles dancing beneath his feet. The only tracks here were Leonard's own. No trace of an ambush, let alone another living creature-

His breath stopped when he saw the corpse lying at the bottom of the cliff, red blood seeping into the dirt until it turned to black tar- and then, somehow, Leonard moved.

He was over the edge in an instant, scrabbling to maintain his balance, already comming for assistance: "I have located Dr. McCoy, medics are required at the following coordinates-" Spock barely spared an eye for the numbers as he rattled them off, too focused on McCoy. He caught the way Leonard's dust-coated lips moved, a mute attempt at reassurance he was certain, one his doctor had no strength to voice. His breathing stuttered, muscles twitching spasmodically as the lost their tension.

Unthinking, Spock twined his fingers through Leonard's own, trying to ground him with some tactile connection to life. He felt Leonard's thoughts, racing fast and jumbled. Memories and emotion, overwhelming in their intensity and made all the more cutting by the underpinning of agony he could feel beneath each one. He could not take the pain, not without a bond, could do no more than press his fist into the seeping wound and will the medics to hurry.

Beneath him, Leonard slipped away-

Spock reached with everything he had, any thought for the consequences gone with the last shred of Leonard he felt leaving him by the second.

"Spock! What are you doing?" Jim.

Even for Jim he could not have done this; they were the closest of friends, but Jim Kirk remained inscrutable as ever to him. Leonard though, unapologetically Human as he was, Leonard was ever transparent, ever predictable. It gave Spock the leverage he needed to pull him back from the edge, weaving the frailest of connections between them. It would not last. Not long enough for Leonard to be saved.

"I can save him." Spock growled, beyond the ability to be surprised by the latent savagery he felt just below the words. He could save Leonard, and so Leonard must be saved. The thought of existing in a world that did not include him was unconscionable. Without someone, without Leonard there to challenge him, contradict him, provoke him, he would be left incomplete.

"Do it." Jim ordered, and Spock could sense that he did not know what it was he had commanded. If he took the time to explain, Leonard might be lost. Jim might attempt to stop him, and what he now did might become mutiny. So he said nothing as he wove the bonds tighter, taking Leonard's memories into himself, forcing some impression into Leonard's mind. He encountered no resistance, knitting them together so swiftly and completely it took no more than the space of a thought.

And Leonard was there with him, in him, around him. Every hollow filled, every jagged edge neatly complemented with such perfection it banished his anxiety and hesitation.

Even he could not fail to recognize it for what it was: Buk. Or, as Leonard would have said, fate.

"Oh." It left him on a breath, more a sigh than a word. His eyes prickled with the burn of tears, a lingering effect of the sudden onslaught.

"I cannot be certain when it first occurred." Spock admitted, voice muted. "However, losing you was the catalyst for its expression."

It. Leonard nearly laughed aloud; he knew it would be years, if then, before he ever heard the word proper from Spock's lips. It was enough to know it was there, the knowledge that he was loved as he loved coiled in the back of his thoughts. He had no need of anything so frail as words with that assurance between them.

"Me too." Leonard admitted, entirely unnecessarily. Had he not given Spock that memory only the night past? What secrets could they keep between them now?

Spock did not answer in so many words, but Leonard rejoiced in the minute tightening of the grip about his arm.

He leaned in, enjoying Spock's solid presence beside him, basking in it for a moment or two before he resumed his train of thought where he had last left off.

It wasn't romantic, likely wasn't at all in line with Spock's idea of courtship, but they had a lifetime to figure out how they would make this work. Just now, with the memory of his near-death experience brought home so vividly, all Leonard could think of was the sheer number of regrets he had nearly died without resolving.

Spending another night apart fell squarely in the middle of that list.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to postpone that Vulcan courtship in favor of a Human tradition?"

Spock eyed him warily, puzzled at this new line of inquiry but harboring suspicions Leonard would be pleased to confirm.

"May I inquire as to the nature of the tradition?"

"Vulcans aren't exactly famed for their impulsiveness. I'm guessing there's no room for spontaneity-"

Spock snorted, "Spontaneity, doctor, is a Human word meaning a failure to adhere to tradition."

"Thought so. But we're not a wholly Vulcan couple here, and you should consider honoring your human roots every once in a while."

Spock considered, and Leonard almost felt guilty knowing that he did so in all sincerity, likely expecting the three tasks of Hercules. Leonard bit his lip- he had approximately six meters to convince Spock this was a good idea and he didn't even have an answer as to whether it was welcome or not.

"Your suggestion has merit." Leonard thought he heard a tinge of mischief in Spock's tone, but that was impossible- his features were inscrutable as ever and there was no flicker of amusement that he could sense in their bond. But years of exposure to the first officer's many moods had taught him to be wary of that tone. It inevitably meant that he did not know the stakes of the game he was playing.

"Stay the night with me."

"Is that a straightforward request, Leonard, or a euphemism?"

"A euphemism. In the interest of honoring the human tradition of celebrating one's survival."

Now he felt the sudden influx of amusement, and twining beneath it an excitement he had not expected. His own heart raced in sympathy, skin tinging a healthy pink.

Two meters and the walk to his quarters had never felt longer or more agonizing; he punched in his entry key in record time, sliding in with Spock on his heels.

The door hadn't sealed before he found himself turned in Spock's embrace, dexterous Vulcan fingers pressed to his temples, his cane falling forgotten from his arms. Irrelevant with his bondmate to lean on. The last of his breath left in a shuddering rush as Spock found that last guilty shred of reticence- an unexpected shyness now that they found themselves alone- and in the next moment it was gone. Subsumed beneath a heat as scalding as Spock's Vulcan sun.

He could feel himself there in Spock's mind, could sense what it was that made him unique, that still kept them separate even as they were so closely entwined. He was the eye of a particularly tempestuous storm, a perfect foil for Spock's methodical nature, a constant reminder of home by his very difference. Every imperfection painstakingly cataloged and analyzed, but Spock had despaired as much as he at the thought of losing whatever inimitable spark it was that made Leonard McCoy himself even as he thrilled to find vestiges of his own nature beginning to linger in the corridor of Leonard's mind.

It was nearly overwhelming, the sudden influx of unfiltered feeling. Vulcans were not without emotion; to the contrary, the sheer depth of them was reminder enough that still waters ran deep- and he was drowning, dizzy and gasping for any vestige of air- of self he could find. He staggered when Spock released him at last, a second or an eternity later he couldn't be sure. His fingers twined in the loose fabric of Spock's uniform shirt, drawing reassurance from its coarseness, grounding himself once more.

"I am sorry, Leonard, I did not-"

Slowly, carefully, Leonard reached out to twine their hands together. At once so similar and different to the moment they had first connected. Spock caught a breath, a wicked jolt of pleasure coursing through his system that set bolts of joyful agony playing along Leonard's skin in sympathy. It wasn't fair that he was the only one still catching his breath, learning how to stand with trembling knees once more. He drew Spock's palm back to his mouth, feeling a sharp echo of sensation as the heat of his breath played along sensitive fingertips, down to an open, trusting palm. He pressed his lips there, lingering until he felt the beginning of a minute tremble beneath his hand.

Tomorrow they could begin to think of logistics- whom would sleep where, whether they intended to seal this with a human ceremony- and Leonard intended to pester and bully Spock until he could meet his parents again, this time as their son's bondmate. That thought was more anticipatory than fearful now-

"Is it your intention to torture me, doctor?" There was a tone he had never heard in Spock's voice before: desperation, not unmixed with pleading. He wanted to hear it again.

It was the work of a moment to coax Spock to his bed- neither one of them were likely to remain standing long shaky as they were. It took some maneuvering, finding a position that didn't send a dull ache racing up his spine. Spock's patience was a blessing, the wondering light in his eyes enough encouragement to stay the course. Spock looked at him like a new and particularly puzzling specimen, one he did not intend to release until he had compelled it to give up every one of its secrets.

Leonard liked to keep a bit of mystery himself; clearly they would have to reach a compromise here too.

For now though, he pressed Spock's fingers once more to his temple, saying without words what he wanted. Spock's other hand came up to cradle his face of its own accord as he leaned forward to press a kiss against thin, chapped lips. He pressed closer, sharing breath and thoughts and body heat, treasuring every muted gasp, the kindling flame he felt that so closely mirrored his own.

Tomorrow he would inform Jim that he and Spock had, against all probability, 'patched things up'. They could resume their argumentative, contrary habits on the bridge. Here though, they were in perfect sync.

Spock's agreement did not take the form of words; once more he found himself drowning in the totality of them, lost in the interplay of body and mind, the carnal and ethereal, while the world around them fell away.

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A.N. : Hours, days, what's the difference? Seriously, sorry this took so long, but it is finally complete! :D

Many thanks to everyone that read/reviewed/what have you, it was nice having you along for the ride! (And heaven knows you all waited long enough with the patience of saints.)