A/N: No, really, just jumping on the Reaper!McCoy bandwagon. Full speed ahead.
McCoy sighs and fights the urge to tug at the collar of his dress uniform for the third time in as many minutes. I shouldn't even be here, he thinks dourly. He'd had a sick bay full of patients needing treatment when Jim had entered and requested he accompany the landing party.
"Take M'Benga," he'd told the Captain, not even looking up from the ensign he was treating. If he had, he would have seen the look of long-suffering patience on his friend's face. As it was, he'd definitely heard the sigh.
"It has to be you," the blond had told him. "Our senior officer. Otherwise it's considered an insult," he explained.
"Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor not a diplomat!" he'd snapped, clearing the now cowering red shirt for duty. "Especially not when it concerns telepaths."
And there's the issue right there. The Xuoq'ib are a highly advanced race with incredible telepathic abilities. Although they're not yet eligible to join the Federation, the Enterprise is tasked with brokering a treaty with them. Federation protection while the Xuoq'ib turn their brain powers to agricultural studies and hopefully a cure for starvation.
Bones knows what this treaty means for Jim but he just…can't. It's hard enough protecting his secret on a ship that attracts disaster as easily as he breathes. It's made harder with their own damn touch telepath on board. He really doesn't need it made fucking impossible. So he'd argued. And then refused. And then Jim had pulled rank and made it an order. Bones hasn't spoken to him since.
Now, ten days later, the Enterprise's senior crew – bar Scotty who somehow inexplicably seems exempt from this bullshit – stands across from the Xuoq'ib Ambassador.
"Friends!" he greets, a large smile (at least, Bones thinks it's a smile. He can't really tell) on his face. "Is good to see you!" A slight flush of excitement brings a tinge of fuchsia to the man's face while his antennae twitches on his head. Despite himself, McCoy feels an eyebrow rise. He begins wondering, in a detached sort of way, about the biological differences of the planet's inhabitants and what, exactly, causes them to flush fucking fuchsia.
McCoy follows as the rest of the crew takes their seats. He grumbles under his breath as he kneels onto the pillow in front of him. He's too damn old to use pillows as a seat, aesthetics be damned. Leonard tries to keep the thought to himself, though he's pretty sure at least one of their hosts picks up on it. A few of them are definitely trying not to laugh.
After a round of introductions full of complicated names McCoy doesn't even try to remember, it's time for the talks to begin. McCoy tunes out. He's here for show, dammit. No one said he actually has to participate. He isn't sure how long the back and forths go – there's no clock in the room – but suddenly the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.
"I'm sorry, you want us to do what?" Jim asks. McCoy hears the strangled incredulousness in the Captain's voice and turns. Disbelief is written across his friend's face; even Spock looks surprised. Shit, that isn't good. McCoy hopes no one has to get married again.
"Is required," the Ambassador tells them. "Xuoq'ib need to know strength of allies' minds.
"How do you test that?" Spock asks. McCoy can practically feel the curiosity radiating off the Vulcan.
"Mind remembers everything, yes?" the Ambassador says, clicking his mandibles. "Sometimes gives happy memories, sometimes bad dreams." Leonard doesn't like where this is going. "Friends must face worse memory." Aaaaand there it is. "We start with doctor," he announces.
McCoy realizes too late that one of the females has been inching closer to him. It's a sign of just how out of practice he is, he reflects as she lays her hand on his arm. Damn beetles, he thinks as everything goes dark.
Over the years, McCoy has erected a goddamn fortress around the name John Grimm and everything that goes with it. It's helped him move on and locked the memories away where no one, not even himself, can access them. Unfortunately, it proves to be a rather nice homing beacon for his mind guest.
She latches on and begins whittling away at his defenses. McCoy fights her. She tries to scale the ramparts; he knocks down her ladders. She tries to tunnel; he turns the soil to stone. He parries every thrust until she finally takes a battering ram to the door.
STOP IT! He screams.
Is sorry, doctor, she tells him. Tried to be less painful. You fight.
The banging increases and he watches, horrified, as the door begins weakening under her desperate attempts to get in. And his memories' desperate attempts to get out.
You don't know what you're doing!
Is necessary! She replies as the door finally cracks. And then she starts screaming.
Jim watches as the Xuoq'ib Udun introduced as Neeri places Bones into a telepathic trance. The doctor is already furious at one James T. Kirk – this is no doubt the final nail in the coffin. Neeri frowns. It seems as if Bones isn't making things easy for her. Jim has a small hope that maybe Leonard can fight her off, push her away while snarling Stay out of my mind, dammit the way he always does when Spock offers to meld with him. His hope goes down in flames when Neeri starts screaming.
"What the hell?" Jim gasps. Neeri is still gripping Leonard's arm, though her gentle touch has turned into a vise-like grip. Bones' jaw is clenched tight, teeth grinding as his scowl deepens. Both their bodies jerk as their breath and pulse increase. "Udun?" he shouts. Neeri is still screeching.
"Don't understand," the Ambassador frets. "Is best telepath. Should be no issue."
"Clearly, there is an 'issue'," Spock tells the man.
"What do we do?" Jim asks, worry increasing as he notices Neeri's tears. Dammit, what is Bones remembering?
"I believe we have no choice but to let them finish, Captain," Spock states. "To separate them physically would be disastrous. To try to add another to their meld, even more so."
"Dammit!" Jim mutters, shoving his hands into his hair. He hates no-win scenarios. He paces fretfully as he eyes his CMO. After what feels like ages, the older man gasps and opens his eyes.
"Get. OFF!" he snaps, prying Neeri's hand off his arm and shoving her away. The Xuoq'ib falls to the ground, scream cutting off but tears still falling. Bones stumbles and the crew rush forward, only to be rebuffed by an icy glare. "Don't touch me," he snarls. He must catch their stricken expressions, even in his current state, because he takes a deep breath. "No one touch me right now," he states, his voice steadier. "Please," he adds. They retreat, but all eyes remain on their prickly CMO. Belatedly, Jim realizes Udun was still tending to Neeri.
"All dead," she whispers. Jim's heart sinks. "So many. The blood. The screams."
"Neeri, what did is see? Show," Udun tells her softly. Neeri shudders, but places her hand on the Ambassador's forearm. Jim braces himself for more screaming. It doesn't come. Udun groans as if in physical pain before grim determination settles over his features. That doesn't mean he doesn't cry. With a sigh, he pulls away and pats the girl's hand. Jim hears the Ambassador whisper something before gesturing to the other Xuoq'ib. "Tend sister but careful in mind," he warns them. "Doctor," he continues, scanning the room until he finds the man. McCoy is lying in the shadows, head resting on a pillow Chekov snagged for him. The navigations officer hovers nearby, eager to help but conscious of McCoy's desire to be left alone. "Is sorry," Udun says solemnly.
"Yeah? Well take it as a lesson against entering minds when you're not wanted," McCoy snaps. God, his head hurts. He has no idea what that woman has done, but he feels like someone's shoved a phaser into his skull and begun firing. He's going to kill Jim. Then he's going to bring him back to life and kill him again.
"Doctor, Xuoq'ib never…such horror. We could never…" Udun trails off, clicking in distress.
"No?" McCoy asks sardonically. "Well now you know. Humans do that shit to each other all the time." He grimaces as another throb pulses through his mind.
"Leonard," Uhura calls softly. He hears the unspoken question.
"In my bag," he mutters before tossing an arm over his face to help block out the light.
"I vill get it!" Chekov calls, sprinting across the room. Nyota settles by the doctor's side, hands reaching out to run through his hair before she catches herself. She accepts the bag from Chekov with a smile before dragging out the tricorder and beginning a brief scan. Leonard lets the soft hum lull him into a light doze. He's tired, dammit.
"Spock," Nyota calls softly. The Vulcan appears silently at her side and she hands him the device. Chekov still hovers nearby, looking like someone's kicked his puppy. Sulu places a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder, though she can see the worry in his eyes as well.
"Bad, but not surprising," the Vulcan murmurs. His words are meant for Uhura only, but Jim's hearing is never so good as when people he cares about are hurt.
"What's 'bad, but not surprising', Mr. Spock?" Jim inquires, materializing from seemingly nowhere. Impressive, considering he had been across the room listening to Udun's platitudes in an effort to salvage a treaty. Uhura grimaces. Udun had better hope the doctor pulls through, or he'll have more to worry about than a treaty.
"The doctor is experiencing brain hemorrhaging as a result of his sudden termination of the meld," Spock explains. To a casual observer, his voice holds no inflection. Jim, however, knows he's worried and his own anxiety shoots up another notch. Sulu gasps and Chekov looks ready to cry
"Can it be fixed?" he asks, voice no louder than a whisper.
"He will need another meld," Spock says. Jim shakes his head.
"He'll never let you."
Spock's expression hardens. "If he desires to save his life, he must."
Jim immediately tries to take Leonard to sick bay, but Spock stops him. The doctor, he states, is not a man to show weakness and would, Spock is certain, prefer the comfort of his own quarters. Jim relents. McCoy says nothing – he fell asleep before they even transported up. Spock carries the smaller human to his room, where M'Benga and Chapel are waiting for them. The Vulcan raises an eyebrow in silent question and M'Benga shrugs.
"She heard me mention the doctor and insisted she come with," he explains as they enter McCoy's quarters. Spock frowns at how barren it feels compared to his own quarters; even Jim seems taken aback at how sterile it feels. Clearly, the doctor doesn't spend a great deal of time here.
Reaching the bedroom, Spock gently places the doctor on the bed before stepping back. M'Benga and Chapel surge forward, scanning every inch of McCoy's person. Spock watches impassively. It would be illogical to worry.
M'Benga frowns. His scans aren't matching what Spock had reported to him upon returning to the Enterprise, which is curious because the half-Vulcan is always accurate. He scans again – and now his own readings are different. His frown deepens.
"Christine, hand me the other tricorder," he says. He doesn't look up as the blonde snatches the tricorder out of his hands and replaces it with the backup device. He passes the device over McCoy again, sighing as the readings beep back at him. They're completely different, as well.
"What? What is it?" Jim asks, hovering at the doctor's elbow. M'Benga switches off the tricorder and turns to face his audience.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd suspect our CMO of having Vulcan heritage," he states. Christine and Jim gape at the man, while Spock quirks an eyebrow. M'Benga continues, "From the readings that Spock reported, Dr. McCoy had suffered severe trauma. His brain was bleeding, increasing pressure; he should be at death's door."
"Should be, doctor?" Spock asks, eyebrow creeping higher up his forehead.
"He's healing himself." M'Benga tells them. "At least the physical damage," he amends. He passes the tricorder to Spock and steps out of his way. The Vulcan scans the unconscious man, his gaze riveted to the readings it produces.
"Fascinating," he murmurs after double-checking the findings. "Is there nothing in the doctor's file to account for this unexpected healing factor?"
"I don't know," M'Benga confesses. He pauses a moment, choosing his words carefully. "As you know, the Chief Medical Officer is responsible for the review and upkeep of all medical records for all starship employees – even his own. It is generally accepted, however, that the Medical Officer's second in command will be in charge of the CMO's file. Dr. McCoy has never abided by this idea. As it is not a regulation, and there has never been an issue, I have not pressed the matter."
"Wait, what are you saying?" Jim asks.
"I don't know what's in his file," M'Benga says. "The only person to review Dr. McCoy's files is Dr. McCoy." The soft hum of the tricorder echoes in the suddenly silent cabin, and the three men watch as Chapel scans the unconscious doctor once again. Once finished she nods to herself before clicking the device off and turning to face the others.
"The physical damage has finished healing. His brain scans are normal," she says. Jim frowns.
"Then why isn't he awake?"
"She said the physical damage has healed, Captain. There is still the psychological damage," Spock tells him. "Dr. McCoy was sent into a mind meld against his wish. Among Vulcans, that would be tantamount to rape."
"Well…fuck." It is, Spock supposes, as good a summation as any.
"Spock, do you think you could pull him out of it?" M'Benga asks. The Vulcan considers the request.
"I had intended to do so to assist in fixing the physical damage done to the doctor's mind, but it seems that it is no longer necessary. I am…hesitant to initiate a meld without need to, especially so soon after his ordeal. There is a high possibility that the doctor will react negatively to my presence in his mind and thus make matters worse. There is also the possibility of making matters worse by awakening him before he is ready," he states. Jim frowns at his words but doesn't protest. There's a moment of silence as M'Benga considers his words. After a soft discussion with Chapel, they turn to the Captain and First Officer.
"Three days?" the doctor asks. Spock nods.
"That is acceptable."
For three agonizing days, McCoy stays in a coma. The efficiency of the medical crew drops a staggering 14.7%. The bridge crew's efficiency drops an unacceptable 7.9% and ship morale plummets to lows not seen since they lost Ensign T'loky approximately 3.8 months ago. It is simply unacceptable, and Spock fully intends to put an end to it. While he's never understood the doctor, he respects the man and it's become abundantly clear that he's vital to the efficiency of the Enterprise.
"Are you ready?" M'Benga asks. They're back in McCoy's quarters, where a chair has been placed by the man's bed in preparation.
"Indeed," Spock replies, sitting down.
"I'll be in the living room," the other man states. He doesn't ask if Spock needs anything else – the Vulcan would have asked. And Spock has already told M'Benga what he needs – quiet. Which is why it's just the three of them in McCoy's quarters. Jim had begged and pleaded to be there with them, but Spock had remained firm. Spock nods at the doctor's words, but his gaze never leaves McCoy's face. The man looks younger when he's asleep. The Vulcan's never realized how much tension the doctor carries around when awake. If Spock was given to metaphors, he would say the man is like a tightly wound string, vibrating with energy. Curious, he thinks, before pulling himself out of his thoughts and moving to the task at hand.
"My mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts," he murmurs, placing his fingers lightly on the doctor's face.
He had expected pain, he realizes as he touches the outermost edges of the doctor's mind. There is none and it momentarily surprises him. The emotion ripples outward and he feels an answering ripple of shock. It's followed by a spark of irritation, along with an undercurrent of anger and…resignation?
Get outta my head, dammit! the voice shouts and Spock winces, stumbling slightly. The doctor, while not a telepath, has tested quite highly in the areas of empathy, making melds quite easy. Unfortunately, it also means he can exert more control over a meld than the average human. If Spock isn't careful, the doctor will kick him out before he accomplishes what he's set out to do.
Doctor, it is I, he states. The shock is stronger this time, the anger disappearing, replaced with…apprehension?
Spock? The doctor sighs. Well, I guess if I have to have someone barging around my mind unannounced and uninvited, I'd rather it be someone I know. A thrum of amusement echoes the words.
Doctor, you have been unconscious for three days. You must wake up. Silence is the answer to his statement, so Spock takes the opportunity to relay the necessary information. Images are pulled up and played like a holovid, copied into McCoy's mind. As you can see, we are rather concerned. A sigh slips across to Spock's mind, soft as a petal, and the Vulcan latches onto the sound, following the noise deeper into the doctor's mind. The doctor makes no protest, but makes no move to further reveal himself, and Spock takes it as grudging consent. Fascinated, he looks around.
He had expected the doctor's mind to be as loud and brash as the man himself. The few times Spock has melded with the Captain, he's found his mind to be as blindingly brilliant and frustratingly complex as the man himself. It inevitably leaves the Vulcan with a headache when he's done. Here, though, the mind feels…quieter. There's a steady self-assurance here that seems missing when the man's awake, as if the doctor somehow disconnects from an integral part of himself. It is…disconcerting. A dark chuckle slides over him.
Worried about bein' in my head, hobgoblin? McCoy asks.
Merely noting the differences between your conscious and unconscious states, doctor, he responds. I am surprised at how well you were able to repair the damage, he confesses. And it's true. While the area Spock is currently exploring was only minimally damaged, the doctor has done a fantastic job of healing the damaged synapses. He continues exploring, slipping easily among the doctor's thoughts and finding the doctor's mind a surprisingly easy place to be. Spock had expected to be overwhelmed – by pain, by colors, by noise, the same way the doctor himself seems so overwhelming to the Vulcan. Instead it's almost…tranquil.
You landed in the area where I file my happier thoughts, he tells the Vulcan. And this was…not the area they were focused on.
You compartmentalize your mind? How Vulcan. Spock states, letting his own amusement bleed through the thought. A burst of warm, dry air rushes over the Vulcan and Spock realizes it was the doctor's laugh. How…pleasing.
Doctor-
Leonard. McCoy interrupts. You're in my damn mind, Spock, call me by my name.
Leonard, we must return.
I can't, Spock.
I will assist you. Spock assures. Tell me where I might locate you.
No, Spock. I mean I can't return...right now. The damage... McCoy hesitates. I have to fix one last thing before I can go back.
I would be happy to assist you.
NO! The panic knocks the Vulcan over and he grunts, more from habit then from injury. I'm sorry. It comes across as a whisper, soft and light as a feather, and Spock accepts it.
I will not pry into something that clearly distresses you. Unless it becomes necessary to ensure your healthy return to the Enterprise, he amends.
I can't believe you ain't celebrating having some peace and quiet, hobgoblin, McCoy tells him. Amusement floods the area but Spock is distracted by the tinge of self-deprecation he hears.
Quite the contrary, doctor. The ship's efficiency has suffered greatly in your absence. Illogical as it seems, an illogical man is needed to keep things running smoothly. He pauses, basks in the warmth of fondness that surrounds him. And I have missed our discussions. For once, McCoy doesn't answer with words, but Spock understands him nevertheless.
In the end, Spock stumbles across his discovery quite by accident. He has been wandering the doctor's mind, waiting for him to finish his task. He basks in the memories and feelings before him, being careful not to peek inside. He doesn't want to abuse the doctor's trust. Still, when he finds a more damaged area of the mind, somewhere Neeri had obviously focused on, he can't help but ask.
Leonard, what memory did they try to make you relive? He is unsurprised by the silence his question evokes. For as verbose as the doctor might be when awake, he is clearly content to sit in silence here.
Do you remember what happened on Mariketh V? he finally asks. The natives thought that you were the reincarnation of their most feared god. Humor is tinging the words, much as they had at the time. This time, though, Spock can tell that Leonard was truly worried for him.
They had intended to kill me, he recalls. But you stopped them. You told them that you had seen true monsters and that I was not one of them. Spock remembers the look that had come across the doctor's face. His eyes had seemed haunted as he remembered some unwanted memories. It was the face of a man who had seen great evil and had overcome it. At a cost. Spock wonders what price Leonard had to pay.
She unleashed my monsters, Spock, the doctor tells him. And I...I don't think I can put them back.
Leonard? Spock asks, following the damage Neeri had wrought. This area of the mind is not as healed as the rest. Clearly, the doctor had been rushed, his attention distracted by something else. And then Spock sees it.
The fortress is buried in the deepest section of Leonard's mind. It takes up a sizable portion, as if this was who Leonard truly was and he'd locked everything away before losing the key. A key hadn't been needed, apparently, because Neeri had gone after the building with a battering ram, given it's current state. The doctor had built trenches and barricades around the now-crumbling building to try and keep everything in, but it's clear he's losing ground. Spock can see the areas where Leonard had to retreat and if they can't fix this soon, the man may very well lose his mind.
"Dammit," McCoy mutters when he feels the Vulcan next to him. For some reason, the man has chosen to appear in physical form at this location and Spock concentrates, creating his own shape next to the doctor.
"I did not intend to pry. I stumbled across this quite by accident, I assure you. However," Spock continues, "as I am here now, may I be of assistance?"
"I don't know how to fix it," Leonard tells him helplessly. "I can't even keep them contained." He flinches as a creature snarls. It is vaguely humanoid in shape, though it resembles no alien that Spock has seen. He wonders how McCoy even thought them up and he says as much. "What?" McCoy asks.
"Are these not a physical representation of something that terrifies you?" Spock inquires. "I thought it was common for humans to create a physical representation – their own 'boogeyman' so to speak."
"Jesus Christ, Spock," McCoy gasps out but he's laughing. "These aren't creations. They're real. Fought 'em myself ages ago."
"How does one fight such a thing?" Spock asks curiously.
"With a shit ton of guns and grenades," the doctor mutters darkly. Spock raises an eyebrow.
"Doesn't that go against the Hippocratic oath?"
"Yeah, well, I wasn't a doctor then and these assholes were killing off my crew and threatening my sister, so..." McCoy shrugs. There is history there, Spock realizes. Puzzle pieces slot into place.
"I was unaware you have a sister," he remarks.
"Had," McCoy sighs. "She passed away."
"I grieve with thee," Spock says, because it's all he can say.
"Well don't," the doctor bites out. "It's been 200 fucking years, I think I'm over it." Spock looks at the doctor and the man scowls back. "You weren't supposed to get here," he growls. "You weren't even supposed to come. But you did, and then you fit so seamlessly into my head and I lost track of where you even were." He sighs, tilts his head back and looks up. Spock pauses, reorganizes his thoughts, tries to recenter himself because he's been slightly off kilter since he entered Leonard's mind. He opens his mouth and -
John
The name echoes from the fortress and Spock's head whips around to stare at the building. He looks back at Leonard, wants to ask because curiosity killed the cat and he's a Vulcan. But the doctor looks ready to cry, staring forlornly at the fortress like he knows what's waiting for him. He wants to go in but he can't make it past the creatures patrolling the ground. Spock could help him, he realizes with a start, if Leonard would let him. He would need to convince the doctor that he could trust him, first. But how? He watches the doctor, notes the look of sadness and yearning on his face, the tenseness of his body, how his hands are clenched into fists-
His hands. Spock stares. And then he reaches out and grabs one of Leonard's hands in his.
McCoy jumps, stares at Spock like he's lost his corn fed mind. Spock stares back. And then he raises an eyebrow. It startles a laugh out of McCoy and as it trails off, he shakes his head. A small smile settles on his lips. And when he drops the defenses and heads toward the fortress, Spock trails after him.
The history of John 'Reaper' Grimm goes a long way to clearing up the mystery of Leonard Horatio McCoy. It explains why McCoy clings so desperately to the family that he has, why he fights so hard to keep them alive – You'd all die in a week without me, you infants. It explains his natural inclination to despise the upper admiralty – They're blowhards, Spock, don't deny it- and why he never seems to hesitate to jump in front of a phaser meant for someone else – real bullets hurt a hell of a lot more. Spock also understands the man's dislike for the transporter – they're not natural, dammit! - and why he generally frowns when he hears anything concerning genetics research – see the trouble it causes? See?
At the end of their journey, McCoy's fortress has become more of a friendly mansion. The imps have returned to their original shape – Reaper's RRTS crew – and Spock has met Sam. It was her voice he had heard echoing across the doctor's mind. The reason he was so desperate to get into the fortress despite the danger. At the end of their journey, Spock has seen the worst memory McCoy had to offer. And shared his own in return.
Spock sighs deeply as he slips out of the doctor's mind. He is sad to leave such a warm and inviting place, and it is made more difficult by the tendrils of the doctor's mind clinging to his as he pulls away. Still, he needs to know if this has worked, needs to know if the doc- Leonard will wake up. He stares anxiously at the other man's face. One-half of him screams that it is illogical to worry but he ignores it. For Leonard, he can be more human. The doctor takes a deep breath in and then...
"What hit me?" he groans. "I swear to God, if Scotty slipped me more of his hooch..." McCoy trails off his grumbling as he rubs a hand over his face. Spock feels warmth blossom throughout his body. "Spock?" Leonard asks, catching sight of the Vulcan. Realization flashes across his face as he recalls everything that has transpired. A myriad of emotions flash across the man's expressive face: realization, fear, hope. Spock knows he holds a great power over the man and it makes him humble.
"Leonard," he tells the man, reaching forward and grabbing one of his hands. "I am glad you're awake."
~Review~