Minefield. { Ivan. Ivan no. Bones and bombs do not mix }
- - > Send “Minefield” and I’ll generate a number between 1- 10 for a scenario that involves our muses and a bomb. || 8. There are twenty seconds left until detonation; our muses exchange last words.
A lot of people would fancy that if Leonard McCoy had to spend the last twenty seconds of his life with just about anyone, the last person on the list would be Spock. A lot of people would think that the Vulcan's seemingly utter lack in feeling would be cold comfort in the last moments of life.
Truth is, though, McCoy, if he were asked to comment on the matter, would confess that there is no one else he would rather have at his side in these moments. They are fleeting, and they watch the numbers ticking down together. They cannot stop it; this much, they have both accepted. The initial panic, the frantic frenzy to try and defuse the bomb, to try and find some way around this -- they've done everything.
Now, now there is nothing they can do but wait.
Spock doesn't deny him the small comfort of reaching out, clapping him on the shoulder; while he doubts it helps the Vulcan, any, it helps him, and he turns his head, looking at the calm facade of the other.
"Is this what it felt like, in the volcano?"
He can't help the quiet inquiry, his voice tired; Spock's dark eyes move, somewhat reluctantly, from the ticking numbers, to look him over; after a brief moment -- because time is, after all, of the essence -- he shakes his head.
"In the volcano, I felt a sense of solitude. That is, in what I considered to be my last moments, I accepted that I would spend that dwindling time alone."
"And you...just shut it off, like a faucet? The fear of dying?"
"It is not quite so simple, Doctor, but you are not incorrect."
McCoy laughs, which draws a curious look from the man beside him; he smiles, gesturing a bit. "It's just, all this time, it's come to this. You, me, a ticking bomb, and you're still callin' me Doctor."
Spock parts his lips as if to correct himself, but McCoy waves it off, shaking his head. "No, leave it. It's better." He turns his head some, looking the other man over once more. "Can you do me a favor?"
The question is met with raised brows, and so he simply pushes on.
"Don't -- don't shut this out. It's just a few seconds. Be here, in the moment; you're not alone this time. Don't make me be. Don't spend it all shut off. It's not healthy for you."
The idea of something not being healthy in the last moments of one's life seems redundant, and he can see the gears turning as Spock prepares to argue exactly that point, but instead, the Vulcan presses his lips into a line, and nods quietly.
After a few seconds of quiet silence, Spock speaks up, breaking the silence between them.
"Doctor, I am -- frightened."
The words come as a bit of a shock, and as the clock ticks down to single digits, McCoy takes his eyes from them, and looks, instead, at the man he's served alongside, the man he's come to consider a very, very dear friend, and in that moment...he smiles.
"You know what, Spock? I'm not."
