The BLTS Archive - A Different Sort of Heat
by Fishey_me (fishey_me@yahoo.com)

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Author's note: The first paragraph thing is told from McCoy's
viewpoint of the episode "Amok Time"; the second is Spock's
viewpoint on the funeral service of McCoy's late ex-wife.

Call it slash, call it gen, I don't care, but if you object
to the pairing, don't read it.

Disclaimer: They're Paramount's, not mine.

Archiving Information: Please, no archiving without my
permission. Overarching permission goes to the Spock/McCoy
Haven and BLTS. Anyone else must ask first.

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McCoy:

His first impression of Vulcan was that it was very dry. The
heat was not a factor to him, somehow. If anything, the arid
desert reminded him more of the chill of winter than the
heat of summer. He almost laughed when he saw Jim sweating,
almost grimaced when he realized he was sweating too. It was
technically hot, but the heat didn't reach him. It was
almost like it touched his flesh, but remained clinically
detached from his heart.

McCoy wondered if he would feel that way if he were visiting
for some other reason, any other reason. But because Spock
had been so inflamed, this planet reeked of sterile hospital
air and felt cold and barren. This was to McCoy a medical
dilemma, and that lovely young woman, despite her airs,
nothing more than a vaccine. But her kind of cold could not
soothe the intense heat in Spock. In fact, she proved to be
a different kind of cure – she managed to burn Spock in a
humiliating way, a burn caused by touching dry ice. Second
degree, the most painful kind.

McCoy shivered as he administered the drug to freeze Jim's
system enough to save Spock from the raging burn. He
remained detached until he pushed Spock away from Jim. The
pain in Spock's eyes froze McCoy's heart. He left, feeling
colder than ever, with Jim. He knew that this kind of cold
was the only cure, a cold lie. . .

And when Spock saw Jim alive and well, that joy so apparent
warmed McCoy's heart to its usual degree. Friendship it
seemed had warmed even Spock's frigid heart. And the thought
of that warmed McCoy's heart with a slightly different kind
of heat.

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Spock:

His first impression of Georgia was the suffocating
humidity. He recognized but pushed away the heat the way he
recognized and pushed away the emotions he refused to feel.
Despite the absence of salt, the air reminded him of the
crushing depths of the ocean, which shook him – a desert
dweller – on an instinctual level.

He supposed that if circumstances had been different this
sunny and temperate place would not have felt so crushing.
However, because McCoy was here to bury his ex-wife, this
region felt as heavy as could be, the air too thick to
really breathe. Thick with human emotions and stagnant
water. This was, to Spock, a unique study in human
psychology, and the pale remains of the matured woman seemed
to be the driest human in the area. The other humans were
turbulent and nonsensical, small boats on the torrential
waves, and he like a lighthouse watching from a self-imposed
distance. This woman seemed the whirlpool that the emotions
swirled around.

McCoy himself seemed to be drowning in the ceaseless tide of
remorse and pain, clinging to the flotsam remains of his
hate and strange love for this woman he had long ago
divorced. A young woman, McCoy's daughter by this woman,
seemed to try and salvage her father from his pain, but
McCoy seemed stubbornly determined to drown. Dry land was
too far for McCoy to swim to. Jim offered him a buoy to
cling to, his duty, and McCoy unwittingly drifted closer to
shore. . .

Closer to reality. Spock offered his condolences. McCoy's
response was biting, but familiar. McCoy refused to leave
the water. Spock conceded to that wish, and as if to anchor
a man in danger of being swept away by a coming tided,
stepped into the shallows, just barely, and offered his
hand. When he did, he felt the hot July, or was it simply
the warming of two hearts?

He looked at McCoy, who smiled and thanked him for being
there, treading the now manageable waters. Spock nodded,
appreciating the breeze that created in this swelter. As the
silence between them increased, it seemed the temperature
had as well. Or perhaps Spock could feel a different kind of
heat within himself, one as alien to him as this region and
as familiar as his sometimes friend.

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The End