#ossamea

He had been, of course, aware of Leonard as soon as he entered the room. Although Spock was nowhere near as practiced in evasion as the Captain had proven in regards to avoiding their quarterly procedures simply from lack a of inclination, this cycle he had found himself otherwise employed each time the Doctor had tried to schedule him, to the point where even Spock himself had to admit that he was persistently evading the simple physical in a way that was very nearly irrational.

Or perhaps it was not the procedure itself.

Even more illogical. And his motivations were nothing he cared to examine, memories returning to him each night as he retired, hazy and strangely warm, the press of skilled hands that communicated only concern/worry/care/admiration, genuine and unfeigned, a support of a kind he had never known even as pain wracked his body, as his strength slowly drained away. Even as he knew he lay dying, he somehow had understood he would not fall. 

And so. It was... complicated. It still hung there between them, weighing the air, heavy and unsaid. What had been private had been drawn into the light, and regardless of his conflict, it was nothing he could bring himself to discuss. Or at least, it was not for now. Later, perhaps, when those sentiments had found their equilibrium with time and meditation.

It was strange, the void a person’s absence could create.

Somewhat like the faint sound of displaced air a transporter made when its cargo was dispatched, what was left behind was uneasy, unbalanced for a few moments until that space had once again been filled by something else.

In this case, there was nothing else that could fill that space, and when the Doctor made himself absent during an evening that he normally would have spent with Spock and several other of their friends and acquaintances, he finally made his excuses and left them, intent on discovering why.

McCoy did have his moods... it was possible that he simply did not care for company this evening. If so, Spock would defer to his wishes, but something nagged insistently at the back of his mind, some hint of intuition, and he decided that tonight, assumption was too imprecise a tool to wield when the Doctor might be in need.