Title: Of Distant Dark Places
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy, Spock/Uhura
Word Count: 1,000
Warnings: second-person POV, angst
Summary: For st_respect's Ship Wars, prompt #2: ain't no sunshine when she's gone.

Author's Note: POV was left intentionally vague. I'm curious to see at the end who you thought it was and then I dare you to reread and switch characters.

+++

You wait.

It's not easy (it never is) as the static of the lost signal echoes through the ship, everyone silent and listening for a hint of a voice in the white noise that is surrounding you like a cocoon, making you oblivious to everything else, the methodical, distracted way those around you work while (you know) they're watching you out of the corners of their eyes.

You cling to the last thing you heard before communication was lost.

A loud noise, like a sudden clap of thunder in the middle of a summer day.

His voice coming through, strong and calm despite the chaos that could be made out around him (screaming and crying and the building falling apart), as he reports the bomb, compromised structural integrity, there's no time to make it out, just to follow tricorder readings to look for the strongest part of the frame (the place with the highest odds of not collapsing entirely when it all comes tumbling down), and then the static.

The only comfort is the life monitors, showing the four that made up the away team as still alive, and you'd be mad at yourself for only really caring about one of them at the moment, but you're sure that Uhura feels the same way as Spock's down there, too.

You hear Scotty report that there's a signal blocking the transporter, and you hope that's why the comms were cut off (not by the building collapsing, crushing them, rendering them useless).

+

It's been an hour of you listening to attempts at planning a rescue effort, numb and silent (but at least being on the bridge makes you feel better than being by yourself somewhere would) when the static breaks. Enterprise is being hailed from the planet's surface.

At least a dozen aliens standing shoulder to shoulder become visible, the one in the middle with his chest puffed out in pride claiming to be the leader of their group, taking responsibility for the bombing. He explains how his group is against the Federation's assistance and that he wants them to leave or the hostages will pay. The aliens fall out, revealing the away team - bloody, trussed up and gagged, but alive.

Your eyes go straight to his, and it's a relief to see his defiance (that beautiful, stubborn son of a bitch).

You're glad they cut the connection before you can say anything to make the situation worse.

Scotty arrives on the bridge, giving you a distraction from Chekov and Sulu (they're looking at you like you might explode) and how tense Uhura's jaw is as she tries to remain calm, professional, when on the inside she's undoubtedly breaking as you are because you both know the same thing.

The Federation doesn't negotiate with terrorists.

You take yourself off duty because you don't know what else to do. You go to his quarters instead of your own, and Uhura shows up fifteen minutes later so at least neither of you are alone.

+

You try not to think about the passage of time, but the countdown is as palpable as your heartbeat, lying in his bed and wishing it were him you could feel under your hand, against your chest.

They gave three hours for a decision to be made before they'd kill the away team, not even one by one but all at once because one by one gave Enterprise time to call for help or put together a plan that might actually work.

Uhura's sitting on his couch, staring at the wall, and you gave up on your facade of dignity by clutching at his pillow, breathing in his scent, not caring that you're mourning for someone who is still alive because he might not be in just under two hours, now, and the closest you'll get to a goodbye were those brief seconds of staring at each other through the view screen.

Nothing like this was supposed to happen. The planet's population was dying, something that could be fixed with one simple piece of technology. He was going to teach them how to use it properly while Spock showed them how to build more for their other cities.

You know the three hours are up when Uhura lets out a strangled sob, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fighting the trembling that's coursing its way through your body. Then you climb out of his bed, going to sit by Uhura and stroking her hair as she sobs into your shoulder.

+

Five hours later you answer the page requesting you and Uhura to the debriefing room. You'd rather go drink yourself into oblivion like you do on the anniversary of your father's death, but there's protocol to be followed, reports that need to be written up, and you know he wouldn't want you reacting in that way even if it'll make you feel better in the short-term.

The door hisses open and you stop short, jolting as Uhura walks into you and then is around and passed you before you even have time to think. You could almost kiss Spock for keeping him safe for you, but you can see that Uhura is already there and won't take well to being pulled away.

Your eyes meet his across the room, and he looks tired and in pain but he's whole and alive and that's all that matters.

"Jim?"

"Bones."

You say each others' names at the same time, and you don't even register your legs moving as he stands and you're in each others' faces, embracing each other tight, disbelieving and desperate and oh so relieved. All the agony melts away when he kisses you (when you kiss him), and you press your hand to his chest, feeling his heart so strongly like you had wanted to hours (days, weeks, lifetimes) ago.

"You're alive," you say, mouth still against his because you can't bear to be apart again.

"Glad you noticed," he responds, and your eyes are wet, but you're smiling.