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From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sun, 9 May 2004 22:50:52 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TOS - Second Sight 1/2 (S/Mc, au)[R]
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Title: Second Sight
Author: T'Lin ( LinkyS@aol.com )
Series: TOS
Rating: R
Codes: S/Mc, au
Part: 2 (1/2)
Summary: Challenge Scenario: Write a S/Mc answering the question, "What would 

Note: Written for Round 8 of the Spock/McCoy Fuh-q Fest. More S/Mc stories 
can be found at 
http://www.members.tripod.com/spockmccoyote/thespockmccoyotesden2/
Archiving: The SpockMcCoyote's Den, ASC* and my own web page -- 
www.geocities.com/tlin_s/ -- all others, please ask first.
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom own the TREK universe, I just play there. No 
copyright infringement is intended, nor do I make any money off of this ... it is 
purely for entertainment. I promise to return everyone to their rightful 
place, unharmed, when I am finished. This original work of fanfiction is the 
property of T'Lin, © 24 April, 2004.

*************

SECOND SIGHT
by T'Lin -- 0404.24

A week has passed since Deneva was purged of the infestation that had been 
driving its inhabitants mad ... the same infestation that ultimately left Spock 
quite blind. Not that the creature that had invaded his body actually *caused* 
the blindness; no, I did that all on my own. I never should have let him be 
the first test subject ... at least not so soon after the death of one of the 
creatures. We should have done tests, to determine exactly what it was that 
killed it.

But of course, neither of us were thinking too clearly by that time. Spock 
seemed to be in control, at least outwardly, and had convinced the Captain that 
he was, but I knew differently ... there was only so much he could keep from 
me. As the creature invaded every system of his body, his ability to block my 
awareness of what was happening grew weaker. 

After all, we have been bonded for years; nothing short of death could 
separate us. The only time I felt any peace was when he was sedated ... but even 
then, I was not at my best. The sedation had an effect on me, as well. I suppose 
I should have told the Captain about my incapacity, but I was desperate to 
save Spock.

And save him I did ... albeit not without permanent injury.

<I pause in recording my thoughts, then continue> 

I've resorted to typing my log entries for the time being, so as not to 
disturb Spock's sleep. He looks so peaceful, but I know he is in turmoil, uncertain 
of what the future holds for him. 

For the moment, he is on medical leave, and will remain so indefinitely. He 
will remain aboard Enterprise until we are able to return him to a Starbase 
where he can get transport back to Vulcan. He has already been in contact with 
his parents, who are making all the arrangements. 

I have asked for permission to join him, but have not had an answer from the 
Captain yet; Sarek has offered to find a suitable replacement for me, which 
should placate Jim. 

Jim ... my oldest friend aboard this ship, yet ... something happened between 
us when Spock was injured. He *says* he doesn't blame either of us for what 
happened, but I can see it in his eyes ... he thinks I let my personal feelings 
get in the way of sound medical judgment. 

The problem is, he may be right.

<a blinking light, indicating an incoming message, begins to flash>

"McCoy here," I say quietly, and see Spock stir at the sound.

"Sorry to disturb you, Bones, but I just had a message from Sarek. Seems 
there's a Doctor M'Benga on Starbase 127 who will be available for active duty in 
three weeks time ... just a few days after we arrive there. From what I've 
been reading on him, he should be able to fill in for you, on a temporary basis."

"How temporary?" I asked. Spock is now sitting on the edge of the bed, 
obviously listening.

"He's committed to being the CMO of the Potemkin after her refit, which gives 
him 10 months before he has to report to his new assignment. Will that give 
you the time you need?"

"I suppose it will have to do," I reply, then realize how resigned I sound, 
and add, "Thanks, Cap'n."

"It's the least I could do ... after all, Starfleet has a lot invested in 
Spock, and if anything can be done for him ..." Kirk's voice trailed off, knowing 
that his words accused, even if he didn't intend them to. 

"Yeah," I replied, knowing where his thoughts were leading. "Thanks," I said 
again, then signed off. Turning to Spock, I said, "Your father has found a 
replacement for me, at least a temporary one."

"So I heard ..." Spock stood, and I hastily went to his aide. He was still 
quite unaccustomed to navigating on his own, and continually walked into the 
furniture. I knew it was not due to lack of ability, simply lack of 
concentration. That, in-and-of-itself, had me worried. It was a clear-cut sign of 
depression, if ever I saw one. Unfortunately, I had no way of dealing with a depressed 
Vulcan, even if he was my bondmate.

As I helped him into the sitting room, I said, "A great deal can happen in 
ten months. At the very least, we should be able to determine if anything can be 
done to reverse your condition ... and if not, see what alternatives there 
are for rehabilitation." Spock was silent, so I bent down and kissed him, 
adding, "whatever happens, we will get through it, together." 

I straightened, and as I did, Spock reached out and grabbed my arm, saying, 
"I am a scientist ... and although my specialty is not medicine, I can assure 
you that it is most likely that nothing can be done. You should stay here, 
where you belong ...you needn't give up your career for me."

"Where I belong is at your side," I said, then I knelt beside him, resting my 
head on his lap, as I continued, "I couldn't bear to be separated from you 
for that long, don't you see that?"

I felt Spock's hand on the base of my neck, his fingers gently stroking just 
below my ear the way he knew I liked it. With the contact, our bond flared 
open for a split second, but no more ... Spock was still shutting me out of his 
innermost thoughts. At last, he said, "Yes, I 'see' ... but I also know that, 
if there is no hope of recovery for me, I will be unable to return to 
Starfleet. I cannot ask you to do the same."

"You wouldn't have to ask," I said, intentionally opening my mind so he could 
see the truth of my words. "I can be a doctor anywhere ... or I can spend all 
my days and nights with you ... Starfleet is unimportant."

"What about Jim? Could you just abandon him?" 

"For you, yes," I said, lifting my head so that I could look into his eyes. 
"There are other doctors in Starfleet ... hell, to be honest with you, 
Christine is qualified to be the CMO, or nearly so ..."

"I am well aware of that, but he is your friend ... he deserves ..." Spock 
was saying, but I interrupted.

"And you are my husband. Family must always come before friends ... always." 
Still on my knees, I stretched up to kiss him, and felt his strong arms around 
me for the first time since his injury.  

*****

On Vulcan, at last. Even at night, it is miserably hot, but at least we are 
finally here, and I have a few moments to myself. It has been weeks since I was 
able to record my thoughts, and I find that I miss it. Somehow, this simple 
task seems to help bring everything into focus; a much needed task in these 
troubling times.

But even now, I find myself digressing ... so much has happened since last I 
had a moment to put my thoughts into words, I'm not sure where to begin ...

<a long pause>

I just re-read my last entry, and realize the best place to start is where I 
left off. 

That night, as Spock and I made love, I had no idea that by morning, my life 
would be irreversibly altered, and we would be fighting for Spock's very life. 
Perhaps I should have seen it coming, but I really didn't think Spock had it 
in him to try something so desperate.

But once again, I'm getting ahead of myself ...

When I told Spock that he, as my husband, would always come before my career, 
he took me in his arms, and held me like he hadn't done in a very long time. 
He clung to me almost desperately, as if he had to assure himself that I was 
real ... that I was solid ... that I was whole. 

He was crying, probably for the first time in his adult life. I could feel 
the tears running down his cheeks, but I didn't say a word. I was so afraid that 
anything I said could be taken the wrong way, and I didn't want to hurt him 
with my words. So I held him, and let him cry ... my mind completely open and 
full of loving thoughts of him.

At first, his mind was blank, as closed off to me as it had been while he was 
infected; his mental barriers stronger than ever. But slowly, I started 
seeing glimpses of his thoughts ... mostly of despair for the things he would never 
see again.

I was amazed by the images in his mind. Always so analytical and ... well, 
scientific, I never realized the beauty he actually saw in everyday things. I 
doubt he was conscious of it, himself. In any case, the tears continued to flow, 
as image after image entered his thoughts.

When at last, my own face appeared in his mind, he reached up and touched my 
cheek, saying that the image was already fading. I covered his hand with mine, 
keeping him from feeling my own tears, as they fell.

I tried to comfort him, and tell him that everything would work out; that he 
*would* see again ... but the words seemed like a lie, and I couldn't 
continue. 

Just then, Spock seemed to compose himself, and told me he wanted to 'see' 
me, naked. To emphasize what he meant, he traced the outline of my face with his 
hands, and I instantly caught on to his meaning. I stood, and took him by the 
hand, and led him into the bedroom, where I sat him on the side of the bed, 
and started to undress.

I stood before him, and told him to stand ... lifting his hands to my face, I 
told him to take a good look, being as thorough as he liked. His fingers were 
feather light on my face, touching every line and wrinkle around my eyes, the 
contour of my nose, the shape of my lips. 

As his hands moved to my neck and chest, I shivered; I could feel his desire 
for me through this light touch, and felt myself responding to it. My nipples 
hardened at his touch, and a shiver of pleasure went though me as he traced my 
ribs and moved down across my abdomen, only to move his hands outward again 
at the waist. Spock sat on the bed again, and told me to turn. His hands still 
on my waist as I did, my erect penis brushed against his arm as it passed, and 
I gasped slightly at the touch.

Another gasp escaped, as he ran his hands down my cheeks, and into the cleft 
of my ass, gently probing. Just then, one of his hands slipped between my 
legs, and grabbed hold of my balls, the other went around my waist, and grabbed my 
shaft ... his tongue slipped into my cleft ... 

<a pause in the recording>

... damn, just thinking about the rimjob he gave me made me come again.

In any case, you get the idea of how the night went. When at last we went to 
sleep, sated and very much in love, I was sure that everything would be all 
right. I should have known better. Hell, looking back now, I can't believe I 
missed the most obvious sign that something was amiss ... that he was planning 
something, and didn't want me to know about it. 

In all of our lovemaking that night, we never once entered into a full meld. 
He never would have been able to hide his plans from me if we had. But even 
without the meld ... even with his barriers at their strongest ... I awoke two 
hours later, alone and feeling anxious.

Spock was missing from our bed. I could feel *something* was wrong with him, 
but I couldn't tell what. I was panicky, and having difficulty breathing ... 
my medical training told me I was possibly having a heart attack, but I was so 
concerned over Spock, I ignored my own symptoms. 

Good thing, too, as it wasn't *me* who was in trouble.

I called security, and had them put out an APB on Spock. As I did, a call 
went out from the bridge that a shuttle was launching without permission. Of 
course, it was Spock. He had disabled the tractor beams, and the transporters, as 
well as the remaining shuttles. 

It took some time to assemble an emergency team, and get one of the shuttles 
working so that they could intercept him; by then, I had passed out. 

When I came to in sickbay, Spock was on another diagnostic bed in the room, 
looking very pale. I tried to sit up, but was held down by Jim, who told me 
that Spock had tried to kill himself ... he had used a muscle relaxer, one that 
in sufficient quantity would stop his heart, then launched the shuttle with all 
life support systems off. He had been without oxygen for some time. 

I was numb with fear; Jim assured me that my staff was doing everything they 
could for him, but  they didn't know if he would pull through, or not.

At that time, neither did I. I needed to be over there, doing my own tests. I 
told Jim as much, but he didn't want to let me up. Instead of arguing with 
him, I called Christine over, and had her explain that my passing out was due to 
the link I share with Spock. As he suffered from lack of oxygen, I also did 
... but now, I was fine, as I was not really deprived of oxygen.

Jim was still skeptical, but he relented ... then stood by my side, to make 
sure I didn't collapse again.

Spock was in a coma ... too weak to initiate a healing trance. I could feel 
him in my mind, but only faintly, as if he were still maintaining his shields 
at full strength. Of course, there could be extensive brain damage, and what I 
was feeling was all that was left of him ... but I couldn't think that. I 
*had* to believe that he was still there, just injured, and he would return to me 
... eventually.

Night and day, I sat by his side. For nearly three weeks, his condition 
remained the same. Although my awareness of him, through our bond, was barely 
perceptibly, I knew he was still there ... every test I performed said that he was 
whole ... his brainwave activity was unimpaired. Regardless of what everyone 
else thought, I persisted in being optimistic. He had lost his will to live, so 
I had to hold on, for both of our sakes. 

At last, we had arrived at Starbase 127, where Sarek was waiting with the 
Healer T'Vri, and a high-speed Diplomatic Shuttle to bring us all to Vulcan. I 
was with Spock when they arrived, and the Healer came to me first, lightly 
touching my temple, and my mind. The touch was very brief, and when she removed her 
hand, she told me that my injury was slight, and would heal in time.

Before I could ask what she was talking about, she melded with Spock. Her 
face was impassive, but after a moment, there was a slight gasp from Spock, then 
silence once again. It was the first sound he had made since being brought 
back from the shuttle. T'Vri turned to me, and said that he was now in a healing 
trance, and would recover, in time.

I asked her if she was sure, and I swear, there was a slight smile on her 
lips as she said yes ... he would recover fully; very likely, she could restore 
his eyesight, as well. 

My relief was overwhelming, and I started to cry, as I held Spock's hand to 
my lips. 

After a moment, Sarek suggested I let the Healer and her assistants prepare 
Spock for transport, and that I get my things together, as the shuttle would be 
leaving as soon as possible. I thanked him, and said my goodbye's to 
Christine, and Jim. I smiled as I assured them that I would be back, with Spock, in 
ten months. 

Then we were off ... knowing that Spock was in good hands, and would recover, 
I slept, I mean *really* slept, for the first time in three weeks. 

*****
TBC

>:-]
T'Lin

T'Lin's FANFIC PAGE - http://www.geocities.com/tlin_s/
Femme Fuh-Q Fest - http://www.geocities.com/femme_fuhq_fest/
Round XIII is here! 
Round XIV coming your way May 31, 2004!

"I dream a thousand paths ... I wake and walk my old one." (unkown)




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