Archive of Our Own ^beta

It had only been mere hours after they had dropped the Mergons off on their home planet when things had started to get . . . odd.

            McCoy didn’t notice that the universal translator had malfunctioned at first; most, if not everyone, aboard the Enterprise was fluent in Federation Standard. It wasn’t until he passed two Betazoids in the hall, who were both speaking rapidly in their native tongue. It surprised him, and he nearly did a double-take before he caught himself. It was the first time in a long time he had heard a language other than Standard, and the fact it wasn’t planet-side made it even more odd.

            But then he checked his PADD, spotted the message that Mr. Spock had sent out moments after the translator went down, and he relaxed. Nothing too serious. Mr. Spock or Mr. Scott would have the situation fixed, and in the mean-time, they all understood each other well enough, even though some of them did not have the best grasp on Federation Standard.

            Doctor McCoy, however, did not expect to wake up the next morning, and open his door to Captain Kirk, only to not understand a word that came out of his mouth.

Spock delicately arched an eyebrow at the two men standing outside of his quarters. “Doctor, Captain, how can I be of assistance?”

            The doctor looked rather frazzled, his hand gripping tightly at the captain’s bicep. “Spock,” the doctor said, “Do you understand the captain?”

            Eyebrow arching higher, Spock turned towards the captain. Flustered, the captain looked between the two of them, and spoke. Spock tilted his head, brows furrowing as he realized that the doctor was correct. Instead of the usual Federation Standard that had flowed through his lips the previous day, what sounded to be a completely different language came out.

            “I thought not,” McCoy shook his head, running a hand over his mouth. “I’ve already established that this isn’t some dumb prank, that he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying either.”

            Spock could concur, as the captain just continued to look between them, clearly not understanding a single word leaving their mouths. At the lack of communication between the two, the captain began to ramble nonsensically, even though it was clear they no longer could understand each other.

            “Captain, it would be for the best if you ceased talking—”

            “Madainn mhath! Dè tha a 'tachairt?”

            The thick Scottish voice came from further down the hallway, just past McCoy’s own quarters. The three of them turned to see Mr. Scott standing outside of his quarters, a brow arched in amusement.

            “Mr. Scott, I was unaware that you spoke Scottish Gaelic.”

            Mr. Scott’s brow furrowed. “Dè? Chan eil fios agam dè a tha thu ag ràdh.”

            “Oh,” Doctor McCoy’s voice hitched in his throat, “Oh, no.”

            “Is there an issue, Doctor?” Spock cocked his head, eyes traveling from the increasingly confused captain, to the doctor, to Mr. Scott, then back again. It really did seem that the only other person who could understand one another at the current time was the doctor and himself.

            “I—” McCoy cleared his throat, running his hand through his hair. He paused, shook his head, and said, “Nothing. However, I am starting to get this impression that this is not a singular occurrence, if Mr. Scott is speaking a language that he hasn’t spoken since he was a child.”

            Spock’s head tilted. “Further testing and study would be required.”

            “Of course. But it’s going to be hard if none of them can understand us, since, you know, the universal translator is still down.”

            “We must do the best we can at the moment, until we can determine what is going on.”

            The anxiety was clearly written across the doctor’s face. “All right, Mr. Spock.” The doctor turned to the captain and Mr. Scott, grabbing them by the arms and beginning to tug them towards Sickbay. “Come on, you two. Let’s go run some tests.”

            Spock watched them go, arms folded behind his back, all while Mr. Scott said, “Dè tha a 'tachairt? Dotair! Spock Mgr!”

Research on what had happened to the crew of the Enterprise was slow, arduous. Not being able to communicate made things much more difficult than it needed to be. It was easier for Spock to do most if not all the work, but it slowed things tremendously. It was rather irritating, but there was nothing he could do. Not even the translators on their PADDs seemed to work.

While it was still a mystery on why or how this had occurred, one thing was very clear; every individual within the Enterprise could now only understand their native tongue. Spock had a working theory that this had something to do with the Mergons, as their exit had coincidence with their universal translator to malfunction, but at the current time he had no proof.

 From the records that had been forwarded to him by Doctor McCoy, it was clear very little of the population seemed to have a language in common with one another. The ship was unnaturally quiet, and groups had formed based on shared language.

Spock left the Science Lab, and began to make his way towards Sickbay. After being released from the doctor’s care, the captain had headed to the bridge and got into contact with Starfleet. He was unaware of how the conversation went, and it was slightly irritating to not know what was occurring on this vessel.

Nonetheless, he continued to Sickbay, and immediately strode up to the doctor once he was inside. McCoy’s blue eyes met his, before his face flushed and he looked away. He motioned for Ensign Patroclus to leave, and the ensign babbled something in what seemed to be Haitian Creole before he left.

Spock watched him go, before turning to the doctor, who still refused to meet his gaze. “What can I do for you, Spock?”

            “I have come to see the brain scans you have taken of the crew.”

            Doctor McCoy looked uneasy, glancing at Spock. “Is that really all you’ve come for?” At Spock’s nod, McCoy gave him a skeptical look and handed over his PADD. The brain scans were front and center, and Spock began to scroll through them, all while McCoy stared at him, clearly expecting some sort of conversation that was not needed at the present time.

            The scans showed hardly anything out of the ordinary. Every single scan showed a healthy brain for their species, no sign of deterioration, and no sign of a disease or parasite. Spock sighed, and put the PADD down, folding his fingers beneath his chin. “Curious.”

            McCoy arched an eyebrow. “My thoughts exactly. There is nothing that would cause an entire crew to suddenly lose every language they’ve ever learned. Nyota shows no understanding of any of the languages she’s mastered, and her brain looks the same as it was when I last performed an assessment.

            “It is fascinating, despite the disruption it has caused.”

            A scowl. “It would be fascinating only if we could turn it off now.” Roughly, McCoy scrubbed at his face. “How the hell are we supposed to run a starship when hardly any of us speak the same language?”

            Tilting his head back, Spock evaluated the doctor. It was clear that McCoy was waiting for him to ask, but he would refrain from now. After all, they were both still on duty, and had a job to perform. “Indeed. If we can get the universal translator functional, we may be able to work without incident until the true nature of this phenomenon is discovered.”

            “How much closer are we to fixing the universal translator?”

            “I am not sure, doctor, as I cannot speak Scottish Gaelic.”

            Doctor McCoy scowled and muttered under his breath. “Surely you know?”

            “If I did, doctor, I would give you an estimation. However, Mr. Scott has taken it upon himself to fix it on his own. It is improbable that my assistance would further progress at this time.”

            Doctor McCoy shook his head. “Great. Just great.”

His patients seemed extremely confused as to why he could not understand them. Well, only his human patients who happened to grow up in English speaking countries were confused. Everyone else seemed to take it in stride. Some even seemed reassured by it, until Leonard found something that they had been clearly trying to hide. Quite frankly, it was astonishing how many of them had STDs, and he considered to take a list of all their sexual partners, but he refrained, simply because he had higher priorities right now.

            His other patients, though, that did not speak English also seemed confused. It was clear that they recognized that he was not speaking that language. People seemed to grow even more confused when they realized he was conversing with Mr. Spock, of all people.

            Leonard did not like rumors. Did not like people staring at him, their eyes following his every move. Some of them he knew were whispering about him, as he was still able to recognize McCoy and Leonard, thank you very much!

            If he seemed grumpier than usual till the novelty wore off, no one seemed to say anything. Especially not Spock.

“На каком языке вы говорите, доктор?”

            “I don’t speak Russian, Mr. Chekov.”

            Chekov tilted his head. Leonard wasn’t even entirely sure why Chekov had sat down next to him in the mess hall, and this conversation certainly wasn’t helping. It had been a couple days since they had all woken up and were only able to speak their native tongue, and while the crew had gotten good at pantomiming things to others, it was becoming increasingly clear that they needed to solve this, and soon.

            “Я удивлен, что ты не говоришь по-английски. Вы не из Джорджия?”

            “Chekov. You’re wasting oxygen.”

            Chekov blinked at him, then smiled. “Ты мне больше нравишься, когда я тебя не понимаю.”

            “Thanks, Chekov.”

            A shadow fell over the table, and Leonard looked up to see Mr. Spock standing at the end of the table with his tray. Mr. Spock simply raised an eyebrow at Chekov, who smiled, flustered, and excused himself from the table. As Spock sat down, Leonard nodded at him and said, “Thank you.”

            Ignoring his comment, Spock said, “It is curious how, despite being unable to understand you, Mr. Chekov attempted to make conversation.”

            Sipping at his coffee, Leonard shook his head. “I don’t think there’s many people aboard who can understand him, Mr. Spock. I am sure he’s doing it because he’s lonely.”

            “Indeed.”

            Leonard eyed Spock’s meal, before turning back to his own. “Any progress on either front?”

            Spock’s brow knitted, a minuscule amount. “I attempted a mind meld with Captain Kirk, to see if it was something I could unravel from his mind. Even when melded, I could not understand his thoughts, nor could I find anything that would mentally be preventing him from understanding languages he knows.”

            Leonard’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Shame. Wouldn’t have it been nice if it were just that easy?”

            Spock did not respond, and Leonard sighed, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. He didn’t want to say it was annoying, but it was rather unfortunate that Mr. Spock was the only person on the Enterprise he could speak too. He and Jim had dinner sometimes, and occasionally would join the other in their quarters, but it wasn’t the same. It was always quiet, solemn; nothing like their conversations of before. Jim and Spock still had their chess nights, as it didn’t really need communication, but Leonard could tell that it wasn’t the same.

            “And you, doctor? Have you discovered anything?”

            Leonard glared, what do you think? sat on his tongue. He wanted to spit it out at Spock like venom, but he knew he would regret it later, considering Mr. Spock would have no problem going the rest of the time without speaking to him. So, he swallowed the nasty comments, and said, “No. I’m betting on this being somethings the Mergons did before they left. All my requests to contact them or go back to Mergo has been ignored by Starfleet. Seems they would rather have us running around with our thumbs up our asses instead of solving the actual problem as quickly as we can.” Leonard paused, then said, “That is a metaphor, Spock.”

            “I am aware, doctor. However, I do not understand—”

            “Please don’t ask me to explain it to you.” Surprisingly, Spock just nodded, and they fell into silence once more. Leonard sipped at his coffee; Spock dutifully ate his meal.

Still, Leonard wondered why Spock had not questioned him yet.

They picked up an Anthorian Ambassador and some Vulcan scientists off of Janssen IV. They had all be debriefed on the state of the Enterprise, and neither the ambassador nor the scientists seemed to be too bothered by the lack of speaking.

            The Captain, McCoy, and himself were all in the transporter room when they beamed up. Some of the Vulcans needed medical attention upon arrival, otherwise, Spock was sure the good doctor would rather be researching a way to solve their problem.

            Doctor McCoy stepped forward with his tricorder and began to analyze the Vulcans and prepared hypos for the ones that needed it. One of the Vulcans glanced at McCoy as he set about preparing a hypo for her, and she turned to Spock. “I speculate that you have enjoyed being free of the humans needless talking during this period of time.”

            Spock watched at the human’s face contorted into disbelief, then anger, but none of the other Vulcans seemed to realize this. Spock arched an eyebrow, and said nothing as he watched Doctor McCoy jab the Vulcan with a hypo a little harder than necessary.

            While she did not gasp in pain, she whipped around to face Doctor McCoy, who did nothing more than smile at her. “My apologies,” he said, and while Spock would never say so, he found it greatly satisfying to watch as the scientist attempt to comprehend that, yes, McCoy did speak to her.

            Stepping towards the door, McCoy motioned to it. “Will you all please follow me to Sickbay?”

            Stunned, the Vulcans filed out of the transporter room. Before McCoy followed, he met Spock’s eyes, his blue eyes glinting in the dim light. The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched, and he nodded to the doctor, who did nothing more than salute before he exited the transporter room.

While Leonard had gotten enjoyment out of practically stabbing the Vulcan scientist, their questions were enough to drive him mad.

            “Who taught you Vulcan?”

            “You have told us this phenomenon has caused all of you to speak in your native language. Why is it, then, you speak Vulcan?”

            “Were you raised on the planet?”

            “A human raised on Vulcan. What an absurd thought.”

            “Take this as nicely as possible,” Leonard turned towards the group, who were all blinking at him with an owlish expression, huddled towards in a corner of Sickbay. “Shut the fuck up.”

            “We mean you no harm, doctor—”

            “Sure, you don’t,” Leonard snapped, “But it’s rather rude to question someone about this stuff when you don’t even know them. I am your physician, not another thing for you to study.”

            The Vulcans glanced amongst each other. One of the quieter ones from the back spoke, “You humans are quite defensive.”

            Leonard threw his hands up in the air. “You’d be too if the first person you get to talk to after speaking to the same person for a week straight asked you a bunch of questions that had nothing to do with the current situation.”

            They tilted their heads, almost synchronously. McCoy shuddered. I fucking hate when they do that, he thought to himself.

            Surprisingly, the leader of the group said, “Apologies, doctor. Momentarily, we forgot about your crew’s predicament. We understand that a situation like this can cause humans to become . . . ‘stir-crazy’, as you would say.”

            Leonard buried his face in his hand. “Sure. If that’s what you want to say. Now, all of you, up onto the bio-beds.”

During their entire trip to Lenarus VI, the Vulcans gave Doctor McCoy a wide berth. Sometimes, they would speak to him in hushed tones, and the doctor would look uncomfortable. Then, they would apologize, and disappear. Every encounter seemed to have the same result.

            Once, Doctor McCoy caught Spock’s eye after one of the scientists left. The doctor looked to be annoyed, but once he realized who he was looking at, he relaxed. Spock wondered what they asked him that caused such annoyance. Instead, he approached and sat down across from the doctor, inquiring about the conditions of the crew.

When they said goodbye to the Vulcans on Lenarus VI, relief washed over the doctor, and Spock wondered how much the Vulcans had questioned him for answers.

            However, he was not going to pry.

            Spock found the doctor later that night in one of the observation rooms, looking rather exhausted as he sat with his back facing the door, head in his hands. Spock hesitated only a moment before he approached. “Doctor?”

            The man jerked, nearly knocking himself off of his chair, and he looked up. “You scared me,” the doctor said, rubbing at the corners of his eyes. Spock stepped around the chair, and sat down next to him.

            “Are you all right?”

            McCoy gave him a small smile. “I’m fine, now that they’re all gone. I forgot how they could be in a group like that.” A brief pause. “No offense.”

            Spock tilted. “I do not see how I could take offense to what you stated, as I understand that this situation may have been difficult for you.”

            The smile that he received was tired. “Thanks,” he turned away, slumping back into the seats, “I wish this would be over. That we’ll wake up and everything will be fixed.”

            “It is improbable that will happen.”

            “Can’t a man wish, Spock?” There was no annoyance there. The doctor looked rather amused. “I bet you were glad, though, that you had some other people to talk to besides me for once. Even better, the fact that they’re logical Vulcans.”

            Spock reflected for a moment. “While their insights on our predicament were rather intriguing to listen to, I did not get any more enjoyment speaking with them than I have with you. Our conversations over this period of time have been insightful, doctor, and I do not, as you say, ‘need a break’ from you, nor your humanness.”

            McCoy looked shocked. Slowly, Spock grew awkward. “I apologize if that was the wrong thing to say, doctor.”

            “No, I—” he snapped out of his stupor. “I was just surprised, is all. I was pretty convinced that I’ve annoyed you.”

            “Not at all.” Spock paused again, attempting to organize his thoughts, as to not scare the doctor. “While I do not think that this incident was beneficial towards the Enterprise functioning more effectively, I . . . do think, however, that this has been beneficial towards our relationship.”

            The doctor stared at him for an amount of time that Spock knew without a doubt was not socially acceptable amongst humans. “. . . Was my analysis incorrect, doctor?”

            Once more, the doctor jerked. “No!” he said, then quieted, “No, of course not. I am . . . well, I am just surprised you said such a thing. Our relationship hasn’t really been the greatest in the past, and I thought . . . well, once we realized what had happened, I was sure you wouldn’t speak to me unless necessary.”

            Tilting his head, Spock replied, “I do enjoy our conversations, doctor. You may not believe it, but I do admire your stubbornness in regards to your oath as a doctor. While I have not agreed with some of your decisions in the past, they have helped us in times of need.” Silence fell the observation room, and they did not break eye contact. Something fluttered deep within Spock’s gut, towards his heart. “I hope you do know I have always respected you as both a person and a doctor.”

            Licking his lips, the doctor said, “I do appreciate hearing that, Spock. I . . . well, I know I’ve given you a lot of shit in the past, but I hope you know the respect is mutual.”

            “Despite what you may believe,” Spock said, “I am quite aware that not all of your comments are made out of anger, doctor.”

            McCoy laughed, and it was truly a beautiful thing to hear, considering just how terrible the doctor had looked before he came in, how downtrodden he had become of late. “You know,” McCoy said, after giving a brief pause, “You can call me Leonard when we’re off the clock.”

            Spock arched an eyebrow, and nodded, unsure of what to say.

            For once, the two of them fell into peaceful silence, staring out into the endless void of space.

Spock was unsurprised to find that whatever was wrong with the universal translator could not be fixed at the current point in time. From the image that Mr. Scott had shown him, the part that they were missing wasn’t one they typically carried aboard a starship, and the closest colony with a part was not within their trajectory. Starfleet had vetoed any and all requests for them to go to Mergo or a planet with the needed part. From Spock’s understanding, they did not want to upset the Mergons with accusations of tampering, and had deemed the Enterprise ‘necessary’ for any and all of the current missions within their roster, even with their communication deficiency.

            Spock did not understand this, and Doctor McCoy didn’t either.

            They could tell that as time went on, Captain Kirk was leaning more and more towards mutiny. Their disapproving looks must be enough to prevent him from going to that extreme, as he had not done so yet, but every few days McCoy and himself could tell the captain was seriously considering it.

            They worked tirelessly to figure out the issue, but every thought led them to a dead-end. Spock truly wondered if this wasn’t some sort of experiment that Starfleet was performing on the Enterprise. If it was, it was not a very good experiment.

            He received a call that night from Vulcan. He was unsurprised when he answered the call and saw his father staring back at him. After a brief greeting and quick exchange of the ta’al, his father spoke, “I have heard of the situation aboard your vessel.”

            Spock hummed. “It would not be an issue if our universal translator had not malfunctioned.”

            Sarek slightly tilted his head. “And your engineers can not fix it?”

            “A part is missing that is needed to cause it to function properly, and the part is only available on a select few colonies.”

            “Surely Starfleet made this a priority? You cannot function without communication.”

            “As of yet, they have no allowed us to make any detours.”

            Sarek hummed. “Highly illogical.”

            “Indeed.”

            Spock could see that his father was thinking, but he was unsure as to what.

            “You are the only Vulcan aboard the Enterprise. It is improbable that another member of your crew speaks Vulcan.”

            “Our Chief Medical Officer grew up on Vulcan.”

            This caused one of his father’s eyebrows to shoot towards his hairline. “What is the name of this doctor?” When Spock told him, Sarek looked contemplative for a moment. “Regardless,” he continued, “It is not efficient to work this way when many of your crew possibly do not share a language with anyone else. Functionality of the ship and its crew should be precedent.”

            “Agreed. Captain Kirk has attempted to get them to repeal their choice, but as of now, all of his attempts have been denied.”

            Sarek hummed, and then promptly changed the subject. That surprised Spock, as it was rare for his father to drop topics so quickly. Nonetheless, it didn’t occur very often in which his father would call.

            They talked for about an hour, before they bid each other farewell.

His father called a few days later, and informed him that he was unable to get Starfleet to change their mind. For now, until they found time, they would not be able to visit Mergo to inquire about this phenomenon. “If the translator happens to get fix before then,” Sarek said, face emotionless, per usual, “Then so be it. But they will not allow you to detour until there is a break.”

            Spock was not surprised.

The longer this went on, the more Spock could tell it was beginning to wear on people. Mr. Scott was the most obvious, as the man seemed to work hours on end. At one point, Spock was fairly certain that Leonard had locked Scott in his quarters until he rested for more than a few hours. Often, Spock found Mr. Scott and Mr. Chekov sitting with one another, either drinking or pantomiming. He supposed it was difficult for the both of them, when neither had another person who understood them.

            For a moment one night, Spock contemplated what it would have been like if Leonard did not speak Vulcan. Logically, he knew it would have been nothing more than a minor inconvenience, but he had to admit to himself, that speaking with Leonard made things slightly better.

            Spock entered Sickbay, looking for said man. His eyes swept the room, and he frowned when he noticed that the lights in his office were off. Their shift had just ended; it was abnormal that the doctor was not here still. Spock looked to Nurse Chapel, who did nothing more than shake her head. Frown deepening, he stepped out of Sickbay, and headed to the man’s quarters. It was the next most logical location for the doctor, and he hoped that he was correct.

            He buzzed upon arrival, and waited, buzzing once more when he got no response. He frowned, and leaned forward a bit, intending to listen for movement inside, but the doors whooshed open in front of him. He did not have much time to think on it; not when the light from the hall illuminated Leonard’s quarters, and revealed that the man was curled up tightly on the floor, pillow tucked against his chest. He did not react as Spock approached.

            Right before the doors closed behind him, Spock discovered that there were tear stains upon his cheeks.

            “Leonard?” he called, kneeling next to his prone form. Leonard didn’t even seem to react to his presence, but did blink when Spock waved a hand over his eyes. “Are you all right?”

            Leonard closed his eyes, his knuckles turning a bright white color as he tightened his grip on his pillow. “I couldn’t understand her, Spock.”

Spock arched an eyebrow, and analyzed the doctor’s condition. It appeared that he hadn’t been drinking, and he seemed to be purely in emotional distress. “Who couldn’t you understand, doctor?” As the doctor was on the floor, it didn’t take long for him to decide to slip his arms beneath the man and pick him up. Spock attempted to set the doctor down on the bed, but Leonard clung to him. Holding in a sigh, Spock relented, and allowed himself to be dragged down. It appeared that physical comfort was what the doctor needed at the moment, and as he was the only one who could understand the doctor, he supposed it was up to him to provide that.

“Joanna called,” Leonard croaked, his voice sore from his apparent crying. Ah, Spock thought, his daughter. It became incredibly clear why such an event would cause him to become so distraught. “She called, and I . . . I don’t know, for a moment, I forgot about all this bullshit. I was just . . . so happy that she called. When I answered, she started talking, and . . .” Leonard dug the heel of his hand into his sockets. “I know it’s illogical. This isn’t going to be this way forever. But I was just so excited to talk to someone else, I forgot that she doesn’t know Vulcan. I forgot there’s a reason why I can’t talk to others at the moment. It was just—”

“You do not have to explain yourself to me, Leonard.”

“I feel like I must. After all, I’m having an illogical, emotional breakdown.”

“This event has been difficult for us all.”

He could tell Leonard was giving him a skeptical look, but the doctor did not move from his curled-up position. “You’ve been taking it in stride, despite the fact you’re stuck with me for a conversation partner.”

“As stated previously, doctor, I do enjoy our conversations.”

Leonard snorted, and did not release his grip on the pillow. He was still as tense as he had been when Spock had picked him up from the floor. “Regardless,” Spock said, as it would appear the doctor did not have anything to say, “It is . . . understandable, for you to be upset about not being able to communicate with your daughter.”

Leonard’s skin buzzed beneath Spock’s hand. He hadn’t intentionally touched the bare skin, but when his hand had grazed the skin, the doctor seemed to lean towards it. Silence overtook the doctor’s quarters, and Spock wondered if Leonard would like him to leave. Soon, the doctor’s firm grip changed from the pillow, to the front of Spock’s uniform, and he decided it would be best to stay until the doctor had recovered.

“Aren’t you ever going to ask, Spock?” Leonard asked quietly, rubbing his forehead against his pillow. “I am surprised you’ve gone this long without asking.”

The bed had grown uncomfortable beneath him. It was not made for two people to sleep comfortably, so Spock was hanging on the edge, but he would not complain. “It is no business of mine.”

“But you are curious?”

“Leonard,” Spock chastised, “As I said, it is not my place.” McCoy leaned back, and when Spock met his gaze, the doctor arched an eyebrow at him. “. . . Admittedly, I am curious, considering your attitudes towards Vulcans, and that in our time together, you never once used it. However, I will not ask you to tell me, unless you would like too.”

Shaking his head, Leonard’s head rested against Spock’s chest, much to the Vulcan’s surprise. “Of course, now is the time that you let your curiosity lie. Not any other time.”

“I do believe we both have more pressing issues to attend too.”

“When has that ever stopped you?”

Spock paused. “. . . I do believe my respect for you and your privacy.” He earned a deep chuckle from the doctor, who just shook his head, his forehead rubbing against Spock’s shirt. He expected more to be said, and he waited. He listened to his breathing slowly even out, and he came to the realization that the doctor had fallen asleep.

Logically, he knew he should slip from the bed, and leave the doctor be. Instead, he remained next to him, enjoying the warmth, and listening to his breathing. He does not remember falling asleep.

Decidedly, Spock and Leonard do not talk about what occurred the night before, and they go about their business.

Leonard has had enough of this bullshit!

            Why hadn’t Starfleet made this top priority? At the very least, they could have had them rendezvous with a ship that had their missing part! Or had another one take over until they were able to get this situation figured out! But no, the very wise admirals had decided that they would use this to show that the Federation and the crews aboard their ships could adapt to any situation. Leonard thought it was an entirely stupid idea (and truth be told, he wasn’t even sure if that was their intention, but it sounded dumb enough for them) but what did he know? He was just a dumb southern doctor stuck on a spaceship where he could only understand one other person!

            Due to Starfleet and their idiocy, he lost more people today than he should have. If things had been fixed on time, if they hadn’t waited, if they actually worked on a God damn starship and didn’t sit on their asses all day—making decisions that they have no business making—he wouldn’t have lost these people today. They would have been able to communicate, people would have come forward when they started to become ill. Leonard would have been able to find the sickness before it had spread through a good percentage of the crew; he would have been able to start treatments before it had taken anyone’s life.

            He lost an ensign today. He didn’t even know the ensign’s name, but they had died nonetheless, gasping and clawing for the air, before she had gone limp, her half-lidded eyes staring blankly up at him. Leonard didn’t even know what she died from until they had performed an autopsy, and had found the source of her illness. She had been the first to be infected, and as no one aboard the Enterprise spoke Czech, no one was could tell what she was suffering from. Tests had been inconclusive, and as it had taken her so long to come forward, the disease had already spread to others and they had little to no time to figure out what was wrong with her.

            If they were able to communicate, someone would’ve asked her to Sickbay sooner.

            If they could communicate, they would’ve been able to find the illness faster.

            If they could communicate, perhaps the ensign would’ve asked for help when she began to feel sick.

            If she could talk to them, they would’ve been able to run tests on other crew members, and cure them before they were nearly on death’s door.

            If—

            Leonard gritted his teeth. Ensign Havlík did not deserve to die the way she did. Ensign Havlík should not have died the way she did. But due to Starfleet’s incompetence, and the admirals doing nothing but having peacocking contest to impress any prospective planets, she died under Leonard’s hands, speaking in a language that no one could understand, and unable to understand the soothing words that were being directed towards her.

            Emotionally exhausted, Leonard entered his quarters and ran a hand through his chair. They shouldn’t have lost her today, but they did, and Leonard wanted to curse everyone, but mostly himself. The crew’s health and wellbeing were up to him, and he failed. Despite the language barrier, he should have done his God damn job—!

            A shrill chime came from the computer, and initially, Leonard groaned. Then he saw the name upon the screen, and his rage grew.

            He did not know why an admiral was bothering to call him. He was a CMO, after all, and this call should’ve been directed to Jim or Spock. For whatever reason, this admiral chose to call him, and while Leonard may not be able to speak Standard at the moment, he was going to take this opportunity to show his distaste for the way they were handling this situation.

            Answering the call with a face like thunder immediately sent the admiral from looking smug to downright surprised. Without even giving the man an opportunity to say hello, Leonard spat out, “You absolute fools! What gave you the idea that this was smart? That your stupid schedule for the Enterprise was more important than keeping this ship functional, huh?!” The admiral seemed to be reacting more to the fact that Vulcan was spewing out of his mouth, uncontrolled. “I lost a patient today; do you know that? A wonderful, smart ensign, who did not deserve to die like that! I may not have known her in the way that I know others aboard this vessel, but she was incredible with her work and had so much ahead of her! She died because of you dumb fucks, since you all thought that fixing this wasn’t important! This ensign suffered and died because she felt she couldn’t come forward when she began to feel ill, because no body could understand her! I hate that you fools caused this. I hate that because of your decisions, I now have twenty crewmembers infected with this illness, and plenty more I’m going to have to give vaccines for.” Leonard glared. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

            The admiral opened his mouth, then closed it, and while that look of shock was still on his face, it seemed confusion was beginning to takeover.

            It was less fun when the person you’re ranting to doesn’t understand a word you’re saying.

            Leonard threw his hands up in the air. “Ah, forget it,” he snarled, before he ended the call, and ended up in bed, silently fuming.

Leonard was in his office the next day, reviewing the scans from the crewmembers who had been affected by the illness when Spock quietly entered. Spock nodded to him, and Leonard nodded back, before he returned to his work. Spock quietly sat down in the chair across from him with his PADD, quietly scrolling through files while Leonard finished up. It was odd that Spock was in his office so early, as they were only an hour or two into their shift. Whatever Spock needed to say had to be important, otherwise he wouldn’t be bothering him.

            The nice, respectful part of him knew that he should pause what he was doing and address Spock. However, the mean, nasty side of him was still close to the surface, as he was unable to get the relief he had oh-so-desperately wanted the night before, and so he was going to make Spock wait.

            He made Spock wait for around forty minutes before he relented, and put the PADD down, folding his hands in front of him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Spock?”

            The Vulcan did not look up from his PADD, his pen still scrolling along the screen. “We have turned for Mergo. We shall arrive in four point five days, where we will rendezvous with the USS Goliath, who will be bringing the part necessary to repair the universal translator. The captain of the Goliath will travel to the planet’s surface with the captain and speak to the Mergons.”

            By the time he had ceased speaking, Leonard’s brow had reached his hairline. “You’re sure?”

            “Certain,” Spock replied, pen clicking along the screen, before handing his PADD to McCoy. “These were the orders I was sent this morning.”

            Sure enough, in the email read everything that Spock had said, written in Vulcan. Some parts seemed like it had been translated by someone who didn’t have a full grasp of the language, but other than that, it seemed pretty clear. Leonard was even surprised to see that there were not expected to return to their regular schedule until a full week after they resolved the issue on Mergo. The email stated that after their issue was solved that they would be heading to an Earth colony to take shore leave for the next Standard week.

            It was certainly a change of tune from before. Leonard thought back to his rant at the admiral, and his face flushed, but he kept his face carefully neutral. “It’s truly odd.”

            Arching an eyebrow, Spock looked amused, in his quiet type of way. Shit, Leonard thought, of course, he would have noticed that. “Indeed,” Spock said, before removing his PADD from McCoy’s desk. His office fell into a lapse of silence, and Leonard waited for the inevitable comment. When it seemed it wasn’t going to come, Leonard turned back to his own documents, and lapsed into silence.

            He was unsure why Spock stayed, but he enjoyed his presence nonetheless. He supposed that there was some lieutenant on the bridge covering for Spock, probably one that could speak English. Leonard frowned at the thought, but pushed it back in his mind.

            They worked in silence for a while, before Spock held his PADD out to him. Leonard looked up, and arched an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

            “I am writing a condolence letter to Ensign Havlík’s family, as is my duty as First Officer, and as I was her direct superior as a Science Officer.” Surprised, Leonard blinked at the PADD, and took it from him. Sure enough, a condolence letter was plain as day on the screen. “Naturally, I shall translate it into Federation Standard upon this issue being resolved.”

            “I figured as much,” Leonard replied, truly surprised that Spock was writing one. He himself had a draft in his own PADD written up, but he was struggling to find the words to say. He always wrote a letter to the family, as the guilt would eat away at him until he did. He failed as a doctor, and owed it to the dead, as well as their family, to acknowledge it. This particular letter was hard to write; after all, this is one of his worst failings during his time in Starfleet.

            How can he say that he did everything he could to save her and make her remaining moments peaceful, when he couldn’t even understand a God damn word she said? When he didn’t even realize there was anything wrong?

            Swallowing hard, Leonard looked down at the PADD, and read through the letter thoroughly. While it had the standard opening condolences—or what could be considered condolences by Vulcan standards—towards the middle, it featured anecdotes from various things that Spock and the ensign had worked on together. It was moving, despite it still having the weird detachedness that was a symptom of being Vulcan.

            Handing the PADD back, Leonard cleared his throat. “It’s—it’s good, Spock.”

            “Thank you, Leonard.”

            McCoy thought to his own letter, and wondered if he would even be able to find the words. He supposed that it was easy for Spock; being able to detach himself from his own emotions and just say what needed to be said. It was one of the many things within Surak’s practice that Leonard never understood, or been able to grasp.

            “Something’s troubling you, doctor.”

            “Ain’t there always,” was the murmured response, and he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. Just can’t wait to get to Mergo and get this whole thing fixed.”

            Spock studied him for a moment, but relented nonetheless. A simple, “Agreed, doctor,” was all that he said, before they both redirected their attentions to their work.

Captain Ann of the USS Goliath was an imposing woman, and honestly, seemed tired of whatever bullshit had been thrusted upon her before their arrival at the rendezvous point. She spoke in English to Kirk, her eyes not even looking towards Spock nor McCoy, who had been asked been assigned to the landing party. When Captain Ann had been beamed over, a crew of engineers came with and got to work, following Scotty out of the transporter room. More soon beamed over, and it surprised Leonard by just how many seemed to be needed for this.
            Regardless, they were finally getting this situation fixed, and soon would be allowed to return to their normal lives.

            Hopefully, his mind chimed in, suddenly nervous that the Mergons really had nothing to do with this, or if they did, they wouldn’t help them.

            Eventually, both captains turned to them, and motioned for them to follow them onto the transporter pad. Leonard tensed, like he always did when his molecules were about to be scrambled, and waited for the odd, tingly sensation.

            Leonard blinked a couple of times, as Mergo’s surface was incredibly dark, and he stumbled momentarily, but was stabilized by Spock. He thanked him, before he took a gander at their surroundings. As his eyes adjusted, he could see makeshift fences, with donkey-like creatures corralled. The strange creatures were eating rocks along the ground, their three, beady eyes staring ahead. In the distance, there were street lights, illuminating a small structure that they had designated as their capitol.

            Captain Ann and Kirk motioned for the two to follow, and they began to make their way into town.

            “We could’ve beamed down a little closer, couldn’t we?”

            “The Mergons have outlawed beaming directly into their cities,” Spock said, his curious gaze on the donkey-like creatures. When they had first met the Mergons, they didn’t have time see what the planet had to offer. A small science team had beamed down with their permission, but had only been able to analyze a small amount of what was available on their planet’s surface. “This is the closest we are allowed to beam down.”

            McCoy grumbled, but did not say anything more. Up ahead, even the two captains were silent. Captain Ann’s arms were folded behind her back, her eyes trained on the city. “See anything interesting, Spock?” Leonard asked, turning towards the Vulcan. Something about the quiet unnerved him, or maybe it was the darkness, as it wasn’t hard to imagine the Mergons staring at them from their windows, their unnatural orange eyes tracking their movements.

            “Nothing that had not been documented upon our initial arrival,” Spock replied, “Further investigation would require more time than we are allowed.”

            Something about his tone seemed . . . off, considering how it had been aboard the Enterprise. Leonard chocked it up to Captain Ann’s presence, for his own sanity’s sake. Despite the rocky terrain, the ground did not crunch beneath their feet the same way Earth’s soil did. When they reached the city, the terrain made way for an odd, rubber-like pavement. It was ominous, how the only sound around them was the sound of their breathing.

            When they reached the capitol, the Mergon guards leered at them for a moment, before allowing the four to enter. Leonard hated this part of the process when entering any Mergon household. His face scrunched up as his face was pelted with water, then a sugar-like substance was thrown at them. Temporarily blinded, he fumbled for the basin in front of him. He counted to three, and wondered what the purpose of this was. Spock could probably tell him, but they weren’t allowed to speak until they reached the chambers.

            Cupping his hands in the water, Leonard carefully scrubbed the sugar substance along his face, then splashed more water on his face. Grating, and unpleasant, Leonard tried to get the sugar off of his face as quick as possible without offending the Mergons. He took a step back, took the towel from the guard, and gently patted his face. The guard looked smug as he took the towel back, and bowed, before leading the group into the chambers.

            McCoy eyed the Mergon leader sitting on her throne, her legs crossed and looked amused. She started to speak, and Leonard had never been so grateful to not understand what someone was saying.

            Captain Ann bowed, and the two began to speak. Ann motioned to herself and then them, clearly inquiring about what the Mergons had done. The Mergon leader arched an eyebrow at Ann, her long lizard tail flicking in the air behind her. It seemed be going nowhere, and the leader chuckled, before gently flicking her finger at Jim, causing their captain to stumble backwards into Spock and himself.

            “What is this?” Leonard murmured to Spock, and looked at their captain, blood dripping from his nose, and looking as equally confused as McCoy felt.

            “It appears that Le’Nu has removed the mental block from the captain’s mind,” Spock said, his voice equally as quiet, holding onto Jim until he was steady on his feet.

            “I thought you said—”

            “I am not sure if that is what Le’Nu did,” Spock continued, as if Leonard hadn’t even said anything, “Further investigation is needed. It is . . .”

            “The best analogy you could come up with at the moment?” McCoy murmured as Jim pushed himself away from them, waving that he was all right. At Spock’s nod, he continued, “I really hope that they’ll enlighten us on this, since it didn’t come up on brain scans, and you didn’t detect anything.”

            “It . . . is peculiar,” Spock tilted his head, their shoulders brushing as their captain began to address Le’Nu. “They had informed Starfleet of their telepathic abilities, but had not detailed what it truly meant. It is truly remarkable, that if it is a mental block, that Le’Nu was able to maintain it from such a distance.”

            Leonard rolled his eyes, and grumbled. Ah, yes, that’s truly what Leonard thought of Le’Nu, remarkable. He just hoped that she would fix this without much of a fuss.

            Le’Nu sneered at the captain, and shook her head at the captains, before throwing her head back and laughing. The captains seemed stunned, and despite not knowing what she said, Leonard found himself scowling deeply at her. Different culture they may be, but it never made any sense when others derived joy out of someone else’s pain or misfortune.

            The conversation carried on, and it seemed to be going nowhere. Jim’s nose stopped bleeding, although he occasionally swiped at his nose with his sleeve, as if the blood still dripped. Le’Nu seemed to be amused, like their plight was some sort of joke.

            At some point, Leonard turned to Spock, and said, “This is ridiculous. She’s not going to help us, that much is clear. Surely there’s something else we can do?” He didn’t want to threaten the Mergons, but that may be the only option, if Captain Ann and Jim can’t work this out.

            Spock tensed, and Leonard frowned at him. “The hell’s your problem, Spock?” he asked, trying not to scoff.

            Feeling more eyes on him than just Spock’s, Leonard hiked up his shoulders a bit, and turned towards the only other people in the room. Captain Ann and Jim were looking at him, as well as Le’Nu, although now she no longer had that amused look on her face.

            Now, she looked rather pissed.

            I’ve done it now, Leonard thought, as Le’Nu began to talk rapidly, and rose to her feet. Ann seemed to be running damage control, but Le’Nu snarled at the captain and pointed a finger at McCoy, and crooked it.

            Pain exploded through his skull. He had never been shot before, but he imagined this is what the pain was like. He’s had many telepaths mess within his skull, even had a mirror version of Spock practically rape his mind, but this felt entirely different. One minute, everything felt normal, the next, his world was nothing but pain, and he could feel blood rushing down his nose.

            Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t like any of the other telepathic abilities that they had come across in their travels.

            He stumbled backwards, and strong, capable hands grabbed him, keeping him on his feet. His back made contact with the person’s chest, and his legs gave out, but the person behind kept him upright. He was very grateful for this person.

            “Ashayam?”

            “Bones? Bones!” Came Jim’s insistent voice. “Are you all right?”

            “Christ, Jim, keep the tone down,” Leonard groaned, “I’m right here.”

            Silence. “Bones, you can understand me?”

            “Unfortunately,” he grumbled as he became to come too. He pushed away from Spock, and opened his eyes, momentarily swaying on his feet as he pressed his sleeve against his nose to stem the blood. Jim looked relieved, and Leonard shook his head at his captain.

            Behind him, Spock asked, “Are you all right, Leonard?”

            “I am fine, Spock.”

            “You!” Le’Nu shouted, drawing the groups attention back to the Mergon. She looked horrified. “You are not speaking any of the languages of Earth.”

            Everyone’s eyes were on him, and he didn’t like that. “Yes,” he said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, “What does that matter?”

            “Doctor McCoy,” Captain Ann said under hushed breath, her eyes darting to Le’Nu.

            “What does it matter?” Le’Nu asked, looking horrified. “You are human, and I had reverted your entire crew to only being able to understand their native languages! You should not be speaking the language of Vulcans.”

            Swallowing, Leonard dabbed at his nose again. “I am human, but I was not born on Earth, nor any colonies. I was born on Vulcan.”

            “Your parents should have taught you any of the Terran languages, as it was their native language—”

            “My parents taught me the language of the planet we lived on,” McCoy interrupted, not giving a damn anymore, “It was better if I grew up fluent in the native language, and learned Federation Standard later.”

            “No!” Le’Nu protested. “That—this is wrong! You are not Vulcan!”

            “You are not Terran,” Captain Ann interrupted, “and yet you speak Federation Standard.”

            Shaking her head, the Mergon continued. “Different languages should and can be learnt when one is older. They must learn the language of their people, not,” she motioned violently towards Leonard, “Whatever that thing is!”

            “That thing?” Leonard wondered, appalled and turning to look at the others, if they had heard him correctly. Sometime during their conversation, Le’Nu must have let go of Spock as well, as now the Vulcan had green blood dribbling down his nose. Panicked, Leonard grabbed him by the chin, and pressed his already stained sleeve to his nose.

            “I am fine, doctor,” Spock insisted, but did not pry himself from the doctor’s hold.

            Behind them, Le’Nu still raged. “This . . . is wrong! You allow your people to do such a thing to their children?”

            “There is nothing wrong with what has occurred with Doctor McCoy,” Jim said, fiercely.

            “There is everything wrong with Doctor McCoy! Not learning one’s true language from a young age can be detrimental—”

            Captain Ann interrupted, taking a firm, undeterred stance. “On Earth, there is no true language. Even Federation Standard is not considered ‘true’. People learn many different languages based on where they’re born, and it is not detrimental towards them whatsoever. Humans adapt to their environment, despite the language.”

            Le’Nu was flushed, her pale blue skin darkening. “On Mergo, there is nothing more important than waiting until one is twelve Solar years before learning an outsider’s language. Learning another’s language before then causes traitors, and infections in the blood.” Her orange eyes flashed. “If the Federation allows this, we will be leaving this alliance at once!”

            “It does,” both captains said at the same time. Ann didn’t even blink before she continued, “And it will not change its ways for the people of Mergo.”

            Le’Nu clenched her fists, and Leonard flinched at the implications of what that meant. He really hoped she didn’t release the crew of the Enterprise as violently as she had them; if she did, that meant there was going to be a lot of blood and injuries to clean up.

            “Leave our planet,” Le’Nu said. “At once. We will give you one Solar hour to leave our orbit. If you have not, we shall fire. I will be calling your leaders at once.”

            Jim stepped forward. “Have you released my ship and crew?”

            Le’Nu waved a hand. “You are free! We will not mess with parasites like you anymore. If you come within our territory, we will defend it as such.” She turned away. “You may transport out here. I want you off my planet as soon as possible.

            Despite their ill will towards her, the group of four bowed to her, and Jim whipped out his communicator. “Four to beam up.”

Leonard did not have time to think about the implications of Spock calling him Ashayam meant. Upon arriving back onto the Enterprise, he and the rest of his staff spent time treating the various injuries that occurred when Le’Nu released whatever hold had been on them. Most had simple bloody noses, but still needed to be checked out nonetheless. A couple had some bumps and bruises from falling, and the only serious injury was from an Engineering officer who broke his arm when he fell. When he finally fell asleep that night, before he drifted off, the memory shoved itself into the forefront of his mind.

It didn’t weird him out as much as he thought it would. There had always been something between them, but neither pursued it. Despite whatever was potentially there, their arguments usually deterred the other, it seemed. Their headbutting could usually get very volatile, verbally at least, but it could’ve been due to these emotions that they refused to acknowledge.

While Leonard disliked the Mergons for what they had done to the ship—Ensign Havlík’s death still hung heavily in his mind and heart, the deep regret that he had not been able to save her—at the very least, it eased the tension between the two of them. Jim noticed, but hadn’t commented, hadn’t the time to comment. But the few moments they were in each other’s presence, Spock and Leonard were . . . amicable.

Leonard was grateful that the Mergons had retracted their agreement to join the Federation, as they did not need a planet with such . . . backwards philosophies such as theirs. (Hell, he had never thought of all things language would be such an important thing to a civilization). If it hadn’t been for their intervention, Spock and him would probably still be at each other’s throats.

If there was anything to glean from this situation, that would be the one good thing.

“. . . Computer, locate Doctor McCoy.”

            “Doctor McCoy is currently in observation deck C.”

            Surprised, Spock began to make his way towards the observation deck. A week had passed since the incident with the Mergons, and Spock had given the doctor space, as the human was rather frazzled for the first couple of days upon their return to the Enterprise. There had been no time for them to have a discussion, or for Spock to finally settle his curiosity, and when there had been time, it was not appropriate. Any spare time was usually spent in the company of the others, who all seemed to be ‘starved’ of communication. It was not an appropriate time to enquire into the doctor’s past, nor apologize for the accidental slip of his tongue.

            Spock’s mouth pressed into a thin line at the thought as he entered the turbolift. He was not sure why he had said what he did. While there was attraction towards the other man, Spock had better control of himself than that. The word should have not slipped from his lips. Yet it had, and he hoped the doctor had not spent his time overthinking what Spock had meant by it.

            Whatever you need to apologize for, Jim’s words entered his train of thought, just go and do it, Spock. There’s no need to beat around the bush.

            The Vulcan was unsure as to how the captain knew he needed to apologize to the doctor, but he chose to ignore it for the moment. Jim was a close friend, and seemed to know what was on Spock’s mind regardless. But to jump to such a conclusion . . .

            When he entered the observation room, Doctor McCoy was curled up on the couch, a blanket over his lap, his eyes focused on the space in front of him. There was a minute tilt of his head towards the door, but he did not acknowledge Spock’s presence.

            Slowly, he approached the couch, his eyes traveling from the doctor to space. There was a long moment of silence between them, studying the view in front of them. He was unsure of how to approach this; apologizing never came easy. It was rare in which he had to do so, and even rarer where he had to apologize for something such as this.

            “. . . was wonderin’ when you’d come and ask those questions of yours.”

            The doctor’s voice was a little haggard sounding, and when Spock looked to him, he noticed immediately the large bags beneath his eyes. His skin was a little pale, and the man looked absolutely exhausted, but that did not take away from the man’s innate beauty.

            “Perhaps this conversation should wait until you are fully rested,” Spock said, ignoring his previous thought.

            Leonard shook his head, and patted the spot on the couch next to him. “You’ve been patient, Spock. I can answer some of your questions.”

            Spock dropped onto the couch, leaving a cushion between the two of them. He watched as the doctor sunk lower into his seat, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. Nonetheless, Leonard motioned to Spock.

            “Ask away.”

            “. . . Your native language is Vulcan. However, the information on your Starfleet file specifies otherwise.”

            Leonard nodded. “While my ma was pregnant with me, my folks moved to Vulcan. They figured it’d be easier to teach me Vulcan from the get go, since my pa moved there to set up a medical clinic for the human population there. All of the schools near us were Vulcan schools, anyways, so I’d have to know it regardless. It gave them practice.” He rubbed at his cheek. “When I got older, they started to teach me English, then Federation Standard. When I signed up for Starfleet, I just listed Georgia. It was easier, y’know . . . people asked a lot of questions about me being from Vulcan and all.”

            Arching an eyebrow, Spock asked, “And these questions bothered you?”

            “Not . . . bothered, per se, but it got tiring. Having to answer the same questions all the time. Like . . . yes, I speak Vulcan. Yes, I went to a Vulcan school. Yes, I learned the teachings of Surak. After a while, it felt like I had a giant sign on my forehead saying ‘Ask me how I’m different’.” Leonard looked back out towards space.

            “. . . There is something else about being from Vulcan that is bothering you.”

            “Hm?” he turned, blinking those blue eyes at the Vulcan. “Well . . . it’s not—” he sighed, “Being from Vulcan isn’t the problem. Being a human from Vulcan is the problem.”

            “Please, elaborate.”

            Spock figured that Leonard would be bothered by the question, but the doctor surprised him by continuing. “On Vulcan, I’m considered an oddity because I’m human. You know, uncontrollable emotions and such. When I was in school, I tried so hard to fit in and learn the teachings of Surak, as well as follow them. Which wasn’t so bad, you know. I learned and coped with it. My peers started to respect me for it, and I was grateful. I was still human, but wasn’t as human.” Leonard’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “Then I graduated, and decided to go to Earth to get my medical degree. Once I was there, I was seen as a freak. Odd. I had the mannerisms and spoke like a Vulcan. People were unnerved that I was so controlled. I mean, it helped with my patients, being so calm and speaking to them logically. Which, by the way, the whole logic part was a bitch to master. But people didn’t . . . I was a freak again. The only one who didn’t bat an eye at it was Jim. I had to unlearn everything I learned on Vulcan. It was . . . excruciating, to say the least. But it made things better. People got more comfortable around me.”

            Leonard bit his lip. “It was also . . . liberating, to be able to show my emotions so freely.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I went from being a human on Vulcan to being a human from Vulcan, and people never seemed to forget either of that.”

            Spock did not understand why any of the teachers on Vulcan allowed Leonard to pursue such an endeavor. It was not healthy for a human to restrain themselves so much, but it seemed that the Vulcans in charge did not care. “. . . I am sorry, Leonard.”

            The doctor waved a hand. “It’s not that big of a deal. I got to where I am now because of it. It . . . was just a lot to learn. Lots of strife and judging from others. Hell, I am grateful for the teachings I got on Vulcan. They are really helpful when it comes to dealing with patients, especially in serious situations. Being able to look at things so calmly . . .” Stretching, Leonard offered Spock a crooked smile. It did nothing to ease the tension within his shoulders.

            “I understand, now, your dislike of Vulcans. To be treated such a way—”

            Leonard spluttered. “What?”

            Spock blinked. “You have always shown a great distaste for Vulcan—”

            “—Hey, now, that’s still my home. It’s where I was born, where I grew up. It will always hold a place of great value within my heart. Even with everything that happened, I still love that place. Yeah, sometimes Vulcans infuriate me, but that’s because I’ve seen the shit that they don’t show others. The illogical choices that they make because of one thing or another.”

            Arching an eyebrow, Spock tried and failed to not tilt his head. “I do not understand. You have made comments that insinuated otherwise.”

            Leonard rolled his eyes, sitting up and leaning towards Spock, lightly poking him in the chest. “Like I said, my comments are nothing to do with Vulcan, nor the people there. Some of those comments are because of the hypocrisy, like I said. But most of it is because of you.”

            Spock took a moment to think about what the doctor was saying. Humans often did not say what they meant, and insinuated most things. Spock often found it frustrating, as conversations tended to carry on longer than they need be. “. . . You are insulting my Vulcan heritage because of my human half?”

            Groaning, the doctor scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, Spock. I am not saying that. What I am saying, is that I understand. While I don’t know what they’ve said or done to you, I can probably guess. I understand that kind of . . . loneliness. I know what that kind of suppression of emotion can do to someone. I’ve experienced it, you know?” The doctor sighed. “I suppose I just want you to know that you can express those human emotions. There is some sort of balance you can find. If you can’t . . . you can always come to me, Spock. No one has to know about it.”

            “I appreciate that, doctor, but I assure you, it’s not needed.”

            He expected an argument from the doctor, but the other man just nodded, his eyes sliding shut and he sank into the cushion. Something twinged in Spock’s chest; the doctor looked so exhausted, and here he was, bothering him.

            Spock went to leave, but Leonard caused him to freeze by asking, “Are we just going to ignore what you called me?”

            “Leonard—”

            “—Don’t act like I didn’t hear you correctly, either. I may have had a headache, but I heard you.” Spock looked to Leonard; their eyes locked. “Did you mean it?”

            What did he say? If he said yes, it was entirely possible that Leonard would laugh at him, and remind him it would never happen. Say no, he would have lied, and possibly destroyed any affection that the doctor had for him.

            Still debating, he almost missed what Leonard was saying, “. . . Y’know, I don’t mind if you do. It just stunned me, is all. I mean . . . This whole thing, while I wish it didn’t happen, did force me to get to know you. While I know you probably were annoyed to be stuck with me as your only form of communication, I found myself enjoying our conversations.” Then, he gave a small smile. “. . . When you called me ashayam, I found myself not minding.”

            Intrigued, Spock tilted his head. “You did not?”

            “No,” Leonard replied, “I didn’t. I wouldn’t . . . I would like to explore more things about you that I don’t mind. If you would like, that is.”

            It did not take Spock long to think. “Yes,” he said, slowly sitting back down on the sofa. “I would like that, indeed.”