Of Honour
"Doctor McCoy, are you busy?"
McCoy occasionally wondered if Spock could sense when he was both at his busiest and exactly the phrasing that would serve to annoy him the most.
He was slaving over a critical analysis of an Earth-based MD's recent publication on genetic engineering. Thing was an affront to science but was just about the hottest thing on the medical airwaves at the moment. If one of his crew mates absolutely had to interrupt him while he was not on duty, he would have appreciated it being one of the human kind, who would at least knock.
The fact that the door to his office had been open and that Spock was generally more polite, rather than less, than his human colleagues, McCoy chose to ignore for the time being.
He did not look up to greet his unwelcome visitor as he replied.
"No, Spock, I'm the CMO. I mostly just sit at my desk and pretend to file things."
There followed a pause so long, McCoy was compelled to raise his gaze from his terminal. He very nearly laughed aloud. Spock was staring at him in utter confusion.
… "That is patently untrue." He spoke at last.
Things that bewilder Spock into silence, include blatant lies…McCoy filed that little gem away for future use. For the time being, Spock had successfully distracted him from his work.
"Sarcasm." He explained bluntly. He took in the blank, yet expectant look on Spock's face and the sure sign of discomfort that was his overly formal stance. Perhaps his visit had not been calculated specifically to rile the doctor.
"…Sorry." McCoy added, putting his stylus down to indicate his attention.
"I can take a break, what's on your mind?"
Spock blinked as though trying to remove the colloquialisms of McCoy's speech like flies on a windscreen.
"I need your advice."
McCoy felt his eyes widen. He stood up slowly and opened a cupboard behind him.
"In that case, I need a drink. Can I tempt you?"
"No."
When McCoy turned back around, with a glass decanter in one hand and tumbler in the other, Spock was still standing in exactly the same position. McCoy bit back a comment.
"Then please sit down at least." He requested, retaking his chair and gesturing to the one on the other side of the desk.
Spock hesitated, but did as he was bid. McCoy was becoming rather curious. Spock didn't exactly seek out the advice of others on a regular basis, he being the font of all knowledge and all. He stayed silent, watching his guest with what he could only describe as professional interest. From a doctor's perspective, though he would rather drink Gorn pee than admit it to the man himself, Spock could be a fascinating study. For instance, when uncomfortable, as he clearly was now, he locked down his facial expressions completely, in order to preserve his Vulcan front, yet seemed unaware of the much more human give away of crossing his arms in front of his chest. Protection. It was gesture which even on his worst days, McCoy recognised as a vulnerability in the Vulcan. It had a boring tendency of washing away his will to be mean to the man.
"What can I help you with, Mr Spock?" He prompted, when their shared silence seemed destined to go on indefinitely.
Spock gave the slightest start, which for him translated as a tiny twitch of one hand, currently jammed between the crux of his left elbow and his chest. He had apparently not been aware he was expected to speak first.
"I am… familiar, with some human customs and tendencies, partly from experiences in Starfleet and partly from my human mother…" He began, with what McCoy had to admit was an intriguing opening. "…however, I am not always certain as to what the correct course of action when dealing with humans is."
It took exactly six point five seconds, which was not exact by Spock's standards, for McCoy to break his no-being-mean-when-in-doctor-mode rule.
"Jeez, Spock ease up on the detail." He deadpanned.
Spock opened his mouth to protest he had not yet begun offering detail, but stopped.
"Sarcasm?"
McCoy smiled at him. The boy learned quick.
"I'm sorry, go ahead."
Spock hesitated. McCoy imagined he was absorbing his repeated transgression. It was illogical to apologise for something only to repeat the action, let alone to do so and then apologise again. On the other hand, his reason for being there was apparently that he didn't understand humans.
Spock continued with noticeable reluctance.
"At the festive gathering which the captain insisted I attend, many of the crew were somewhat inebriated."
McCoy's eyebrows rose. Spock was watching for his reaction and quite understandably, appeared confused by the expression of surprise. Basically the entire crew, had been more than somewhat inebriated. The doctor's surprise was more along the lines of how he was hearing the set up of a morning-after regret story from Spock, of all people.
"While inebriated, I have noticed a tendency for humans to become even less guarded in their emotions than usual." Spock continued, oblivious to McCoy's train of thought.
"I have also observed a symptom to be short term memory loss. Is this correct?"
McCoy was trying not to laugh.
"That is spot on…Spock can I just confirm here, because I must be way off base. This story isn't going to end with me having to run the same screens and shots I had to for about fifty percent of the crew the morning after this party, is it?"
Spock looked at him in utter confusion, which was confirmation enough.
"Never mind, carry on."
"During this time, another member of the crew spoke to me."
"Well, alcohol does strange things to people." McCoy snarked without thinking.
Spock stopped and shifted his posture to attempt to place even more distance, to add to the arms and desk barrier between them. Damn, McCoy thought before Spock moved or spoke, forgot not to be mean…
"I believe I should go." Spock said, starting to stand.
"No, no, Spock, sit down, I'm just playing with you, this is standard doctor technique for relaxing people." McCoy insisted, sitting forward and looking as contrite as possible. He pasted on his very best trust-me-I'm-a-doctor face. "In deference to your unique being, I'll be one hundred percent by the book professional."
Spock retook his seat, one eyebrow still precariously raised, before giving a curt nod.
"That would be appreciated." He intoned with absolute sincerity. McCoy schooled his facial muscles into a painful unmoving mask. "…This crew member spoke at some length, before I became aware that not only were they intoxicated, but that the extent was such that they would be unlikely to recall our conversation the following day."
"Right…" McCoy encouraged, noting the careful use of neutral pronouns, silently approving Spock's surprising tact.
"I attempted to curtail their speech, but they became…somewhat agitated. I was compelled to accept their will to discuss matters of a personal nature, of their own background they had not otherwise discussed with me, nor I have reason to believe, anyone on board."
Spock stopped speaking unexpectedly and it took McCoy a moment to realise he was finished.
"So, someone got drunk and talked your ear off about their personal life. ..figuratively speaking. You're now worried because you think they wouldn't have done it sober?"
At Spock's nod, he offered a thoughtful cock of the head.
"Well, you're not wrong, very few people do that sober. I'm still at a loss though, what do you want advice about?"
"This is the human custom I do not know, doctor. What is one to do, when one is given information in this way? Should I tell this crew member what they told me? In Vulcan culture, in the unlikely event of a similar occurrence, it would be impolite not to, however I suspect based on previous encounters, that humans may be embarrassed by this. They might also, illogically, think the intention of informing them was malicious or even threatening."
McCoy held up a hand for pause, once again schooling his face into an appropriately sober position.
"Your suspicions are correct, Spock, most humans would take it very badly indeed. It is possible that should whoever it is ever find out, or remember, they will be even angrier than they would be if you told them but that, Spock, I think has to be your risk. They won't thank you for embarrassing them by filling in the blanks alcohol is occasionally merciful enough to provide."
"But doctor, I have knowledge this person is unaware of. In my culture, that amounts to a violation of privacy." He sounded so perturbed by the notion, McCoy felt a genuine lack of will to mock him in his emotional ignorance. Bastard was somehow making it endearing.
He shook his head, allowing a kind smile.
"Yes, but if that's what you think matters, why are you asking me? It's your culture, Spock, so now I know you would want to be told, in a similar situation although god knows how that could happen to a Vulcan. Generally speaking, if humans are lucky enough to do something embarrassing to someone discreet enough never to tell them, they'd be grateful."
Spock's eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch, not entirely convinced.
"That, then, is what you suggest I do?"
"It is." McCoy matched his sincerity, somehow.
Tension leaving him all of a sudden, Spock gave a curt nod, as though he'd suspected as much all along.
"In that case, it would be possible for me to achieve a form of localised amnesia, to remove this information from my own mind, so that no violation of privacy remains."
McCoy almost spat his brandy out all over his desk. Swallowing hard under Spock's curious stare, he held his hands up to stop the Vulcan leaving.
"Whoa whoa, Spock, no." He stated emphatically. "That's…horrifying."
He couldn't think of a better adjective, but it clearly and not unreasonably, confused Spock.
"I do not understand?" He asked, inflecting the statement as a question in his clear bewilderment.
McCoy shook his head, unsure how to explain a thing that would have been clear as day to any human. All manner of insults basically meaning 'robot' went through his mind, but he fought back the urge. Spock wasn't going to listen to general insults on his heritage as a reason not to do something so…robotic.
"Look, Spock…" He started, voice sounding ever so slightly over-controlled. Spock was unlikely to miss this detail but bless him, he probably thought McCoy was restraining himself to professionalism as promised.
"…I know what this person told you is from their own past, not yours, but your memory of them telling you, pleasant or otherwise, belongs to you."
He paused and tried to think of a way to word his specific objection that would both get through to Spock and express his now ready to burst out disgust.
"You knowing these things, having been told, is not a violation of any kind. You obliterating your memories, however insignificant, very much is. Don't even think about it!"
Spock blinked at him, not quite disagreeing, but certainly confused by his vehemence.
"But doctor, they did not mean to impart this information and now they are unaware they have done so." He argued.
Logic exchange. McCoy was actually incredibly good at these and tended to beat Spock far more than the other would admit. Unlike Spock, McCoy knew when he was being illogical.
"Yes, a situation which arose from decisions made of their own free will, Spock. They knew this information existed, they almost certainly knew the effect alcohol has on them and they chose to consume it anyway. They also chose, while drunk, to talk to you and to refuse to let you stop them. Intoxication isn't mind control, their judgement would have been impaired but their will still existed."
Spock's eyebrows shot up. He understood all of the heavy implications there then…
"You are suggesting they wanted to have this discussion with me." He inferred with ease.
McCoy tried very hard not to let his express state 'no shit', in the way he felt it probably did.
"Alcohol removes inhibitions, it doesn't create new desires. I'm not saying you specifically, but clearly they needed to get whatever it was off their chest and they obviously trust you, albeit subconsciously."
Spock did not look convinced.
"Well, are you planning on misusing this information in some way? To embarrass, blackmail or otherwise harm this person?" McCoy demanded, rather enjoying the stiffening of Spock's posture in response to the very thought.
"No." Spock stated, as far as Vulcan was able, sounding scandalised.
"Right. So they were right to trust you. I suggest you put this out of mind, Spock, your conscience is clear."
Spock considered for a moment, before he started to stand. As he got to his feet he spoke the most surprising words McCoy had ever heard from him.
"Thank you, Doctor, I believe I will take your advice."
McCoy watched him leaving, stunned into silence.
"I need a lie down." He muttered, shaking his head. A thought occurred to him and he yelled after the retreating Vulcan.
"Commander!"
Spock stopped and turned, surprised by the sudden change of tone.
"By put it out of your mind, let me make it clear I absolutely do not mean utilise any form of Vulcan…" He paused and reconsidered whatever pejorative he had been about to use. "…Technique… to actually remove it from your mind. Do not attempt that. That is a medical order."
There was a definite question mark over whether McCoy could order Spock not to use a Vulcan technique he did not understand, but the doctor showed no signs of acknowledging this question. He scowled at Spock, awaiting agreement. In his humble opinion, agreement was not forthcoming quickly enough.
"Spock, are you planning on or considering, disobeying a direct order?" He asked, choosing his wording carefully in order to ensure Spock couldn't mislead him without directly lying.
"I do not need this information."
You sneaky little- The man was being deliberately obtuse. In all fairness, he had chosen not to lie as every good Vulcan should, but goddamn him if he wasn't being annoying.
"…You can't seriously tell me that this is the only thing in that Vulcan head of yours you don't necessarily need." McCoy sighed.
Spock did not respond to that and McCoy was not surprised. Even he wouldn't argue that it was logical to physically purge one's mind of everything in it they didn't particularly want. Clearly, it was this, specific information Spock was averse to.
"Jesus, Spock, was what they told you so unspeakably terrible that you can't even keep the information in your head, never to be of relevance to you again?" He was beginning to sound a little irritated, but it couldn't be helped. Vulcan mind tricks put him on edge, especially when they involved deliberately altering one's mind by choice.
Spock looked up, as though surprised.
"No, doctor, it is not the nature of the information which I do not want." He hesitated, before meeting the doctor's eye again. "It does not belong to me."
"Spock we've been over this." The doctor sighed. "This person chose, to tell you. Now the memory of them doing so, belongs to you."
McCoy was not a man given to repeating himself. He would have been surprised to find Spock was willing to listen to him the second time if he hadn't the first. He decided a new angle was needed.
"You can be unhappy about it if you want, but you have no right to change it."
He caught the moment of surprise, at the suggestion of wrong doing. Of an impending immoral act, rather than an existing one. Spock's emotional control was truly incredible, but McCoy had been looking for the minute signs. A sharp flicker of his eyes, a minor hesitation before his response.
…"I have no right, to alter my own memories?" He asked, tone incredulous.
McCoy sat back in his chair.
"No moral right, in my book. In my human book, anyway." He answered, a breeziness in his voice even he recognised to be obnoxious.
"In my Chief Medical Officer's book, on the other hand, the issue is much more serious. I can't set a precedent for this."
Spock's eyebrow rose in question. Though one of the more infuriating habits of the Vulcan, it was an eloquent little gesture, McCoy observed.
"You aren't an island, in this crew, Mr Spock, whatever you may believe."
It was a damn shame that his poetic insight was all but lost on his audience, owing to the accidental use of idiom.
"You don't exist in a vacuum." He clarified. Or, he switched to a more scientific choice of metaphor, at least. "There are four hundred and twenty eight men and women on this ship. All of them have their own little worlds going on inside their heads. Some of them despise each other, some love each other, some claim to be incapable of feeling either of those."
The eyebrow disappeared into Spock's bangs.
"All, are important to the whole, and not just in the way you would mean it. They aren't just an efficient crew, they're a microcosm of a world. A community. You are part of that, whether you like it or not."
As he had Spock's full attention, for better or for worse, McCoy had decided he was getting this out. All of it. The no holes barred, this is why Spock doesn't know everything, speech, about why the CMO had jurisdiction over even the Captain of a Star Ship.
"I have a responsibility to ensure every individual on board can be, part of that whole. An individual who removes any part of our collective interaction he's uncomfortable with, can't be. We're all uncomfortable. Good god man, I know things about James Kirk's sex life that would make a Vulcan blush, but I don't get to un-know them. I certainly know things about crew members they don't know themselves, plenty of them. I don't get to remove any of that either."
On the off chance that Spock was unconvinced by this inspired speech, McCoy fixed him with a calculating eye.
"You are not human, Spock and I don't ask you to be."
…That was a stretch of the truth if he was honest and Spock's innocently blank expression definitely agreed. He had, on occasion, been known to demand Spock try to act like a human being. Still, figure of speech really and the point still stood.
"I do insist, that every member of this crew be a reasonable, functioning part of a whole. If I have reason to believe you have used your own specific cultural abilities to alter your mind, to remove some trifling gossip, Spock, I will have no choice but to suggest you are unsuited to this crew. It would be bad for your health."
Whatever Spock had expected on coming to him for advice, it probably wasn't a threat as grave as that one, McCoy mused as the silence lingered ever longer. The Vulcan sat, studying the doctor with an intensity he might have found unnerving, had the context of a drunken confession at a party, not made it seem somehow comical. The silence that seemed never ending, was in reality, probably not more than a few seconds long.
"That will not be necessary, Doctor McCoy."
The quiet comment was all McCoy got in return, before Spock stood with a nod and took his leave. McCoy smiled at his retreating back.
"Not drinking, Spock?"
"I do not drink."
"You don't, or Vulcans don't?"
"Both, of course."
"Ah, well, that's good for you. I, on the other hand, drink far too much. That's probably part of why she left, come to think of it."
…"I beg your pardon?"
"My wife, Jocelyn. She was beautiful you know. My daughter looks just like her…'cept her eyes. They're just like mine. Baby blue…"
"Doctor, I believe you are extremely inebriated."
"Right you are, my pointy eared friend. Quite, quite inebriated. It is Christmas after all."
"I fail to see how the season contributes to your intoxication. Except in that I observe you are far from an anomaly among the crew at this time."
"No, that's fair too. We are mostly pissed and this is the time of year to be forgiven for it. If I start to sober up I find I miss her too much, to tell the God's honest truth. Christmas is a time to be with your kids. Of course…she wouldn't let me, even if I wasn't a billion light years away."
"Doctor, we are less than ten light years from earth, not a billion."
"Less than ten, huh? Practically 'round the corner. Still doesn't matter. Jocelyn took my kid and told me to stay away. Too much time spent…doctoring."
… "Doctor, forgive me, but I do not believe you would be speaking this way if sober."
"No flies on you, Sparky. But I'm not sober, so just…shhh. Listen. Shh. The doctor bit was the problem really. Couldn't always…go home, too much….sad shit, building up, to go home and share with a kid. Or my wife. She got mad at the time away. We had fights, I drank to calm down, to drown the loneliness of her anger. And it made her angrier. We weren't, you know…intended, for the long run. Mom was a drunk, father was a doctor. I made just a little bit of both only I tried to keep the bad of both, away from my little girl. And while I was keeping it away, my wife took her away and left me the bad guy-"
"-Doctor McCoy, you would not wish me to know-"
"No shush, Spsh…Spss…Pixie fella. I know, most of the time, when she's older she'll know it was best I didn't stay on Earth…watch me and her mother hate each other. I know that, most days. Just…Christmas…Is for sharing."
Spock studied the drunken doctor, thoroughly confused and not a little alarmed by this sudden outpouring. He knew McCoy had an ex-wife and a daughter, he knew the good doctor was human and therefore, the absence of these two individuals in his life would be a source of some negative emotion for him. He had not known and was certain McCoy had never wished him to know, the extent of his emotional difficulties. This dilemma was not highest on his vexations at that moment, however. For the time being, the doctor was in no state of mind to regret his actions, but he was aware enough to be waiting expectantly for some form of response, from Spock.
"Doctor McCoy…" He started, somewhat warily. "…You are not, 'the bad guy', you are a human physician."
A familiar smile tugged at the corners of the doctor's mouth, bright blue eyes flashing in amusement.
"Well, I can't argue with that. An extremely inebriated, human physh…physhish…Doctor."