Chinks in My Armor: Spock and Bones

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.Leonard had been hunched over Jim, watching him, hardly sleeping, never stopping a scan or test for this or that, for any signs of failure.

But he wasn’t blind. He was aware of his green-blooded friend - yes he said friend in his head - and his struggles. Which is why he sent updates constantly, hoping it would help.

But hearing Spock washing his hands, he pried himself from Jim’s side to make his way to the other. At the words, he frowned, his usually barbed nature falling flat and he reached a hand out to touch Spock’s shoulder hesitantly.

“It’s a psychological reaction to the events leading to the bruising. It’s your mind trying desperately to cleanse itself of the memories by cleaning all traces of him from your form.” Leonard explained, knowing the actions far too well.

askfirstofficerspock

The friendly touch on his shoulder was a surprise although he and McCoy had become friends of sorts—no they were friends. He’d learned that from Jim. Jim. Spock felt his throat constrict as he was hit with a wave of emotions. He wished he could blame them on McCoy’s touch, but he wasn’t that unschooled of a telepath. The pain, guilt, and worry he was feeling were all his own.

“I tried to kill him, Doctor,” Spock said, his voice rougher and quieter than it normally was. He knew he was hiding nothing from McCoy. He also could think of no reason why he should not at all sure he could. “I wanted to. I wanted to kill him for hurting Jim. For nearly destroying Enterprise. For all the people he killed.”

Spock had to turn away unable to meet McCoy’s gaze, thankful that there was no mirror over the sink as he was quite certain that he did not wish to look at his own reflection either. He placed his hands under the dryer, waiting until they were completely dry before speaking again. “I have never been that angry. Never that violent, and I have been through Pon Farr.”

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