Panic gripped his chest as he began to experience one of his nightmares again. This time it was the one where killed Jim during his Pon Farr over and over again. He must have been thrashing about and making noise because across the sick bay room, Bones left his office to see what was the matter.

He turned the 'bay's lights on at 25% and carefully shook the Vulcan awake. Spock had come to him about his inability to sleep through the night, so McCoy decided a sleep study would be a good place to start. Spock sat up with a gasp.

"Easy, Spock, easy. You're alright. You're in sickbay, remember?"

He took deep breaths. Even in the dim light Bones could tell there was a sheen of sweat to Spock's skin.

"It was just a nightmare. It can't hurt you," the Doctor soothed.

"I--I dreamed of killing Jim...but this time, he was truly dead. You hadn't saved him. You were crying."

Spock looked up at him with his sad dark-brown eyes.

"Spock."

Bones put a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder. Spock reached up his right hand and rested on top of McCoy's. The need to feel anchored and touched overwhelmed him.

"Darlin', it's ok. Jim's asleep in his own room, sleepin' like a baby. And you need to do the same. Promise you'll try?" asked Bones, laying his accent on thick in the hopes it would sooth Spock down.

Spock was thankful for the semi-darkness of the room, for he didn't want the Doctor to see him blush. Even he couldn't resist that old Southern charm.

"Y-yes Doctor," stuttered Spock.

With a nod of his head, he sauntered back to his office to finish up a med journal before hitting the hay himself.

Spock slept soundly for the rest of the night.