McCoy's backstory in my fics involving him is a welding of multiple Trek books, since they tend to contradict each other. His sister Donna raising Joanna is from Dreams of the Raven by Carmen Carter. His losing his mother at a young age is from Crucible: McCoy: The Provenance of Shadows by David R. George III. McCoy's comment on his family not fitting into his childhood community due to moving is from Shadows on the Sun by Michael Jan Friedman. The mention of what T'Pring has been up to, as well as the mention of T'Khut, and Amanda being a linguist, is from Spock's World by Diane Duane. Joanna McCoy's relationship with Suvak is a nod to the comic, All the Infinite Ways.
A broken meld being fatal to human partners is from fanon works I've seen, which depicted a broken meld as fatal to Vulcans. The canonicity of this is dubious.
Smoke poured into the air from torches. Kneeling upon the pallet, his robe spread out about him, Spock lowered his head. Images spread throughout his mind. Bodies floated, weightlessly, within a Constitution-class ship, adrift. Figures that were not familiar to him tumbled. He reached out a hand, and grasped that of one figure he knew intimately, his blue eyes widened, and lost.
He struck a barrier, reaching for whispers, cries, and calls. Upon Vulcan, he felt that he had stability. Within space, however, he was adrift, tangled within a web of emotions and threads of memories. Grasping at the doctor as an anchor, he reached out, and clawed for the pieces to fit, to make sense of the confusion. The doctor leaned into him, and Spock felt something warm leaking onto himself. He glanced down, and his eyes widened as he saw that it was blood. His t'hy'la stared up at him, his vision glassy as blood continued to drip down from his forehead, and down his face.
"Stop," the healer commanded. His eyes opened, and he saw the female Vulcan kneeling just before him. Her gaze bored into his. "You are pushing too hard to remember. You are running the risk of damaging yourself."
"My captain needs me. I have kept my crewmates from their home for too long."
"That is immaterial," she replied, "The focus today is upon your mental state. You have died, Spock. If you force yourself, this healing will take longer. It already has, and likely will." Spock bowed his head at her statement of fact. "You allow your frustration to build upon you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he replied quietly.
"Without discipline, there is no healing." He recalled Leonard, on multiple occasions, scolding patients for not keeping to their prescribed treatments.
"If you do not change your thought process, you will remain as you are."
"What of my education?" He inquired.
"If you think that your life is measured only upon that, then you do not understand the culture of your birth," she replied. Smoke whispered past her face, her dark eyes glinting in the change of light direction. Spock lowered his head once more. She nodded, placing her palms out before her, and beginning the ritual anew.
XXXXXX
Amanda and Sarek's garden was far more overgrown than he had recalled, from his previous visit alongside Kirk. McCoy felt apprehension as Amanda gestured for him to sit at the table adjoining the garden. She poured out tea for the two of them, her clothing stained from the grass and plants. He found her relaxed demeanor endearing. "Are you all right?" She inquired.
"Not exactly the best question to ask me," he replied, "I can't tell half the time. It took me the better part of the first week to reorient myself."
"Have you seen a healer?" Amanda inquired.
McCoy shook his head. "For now, I don't want anyone poking around in my mind."
"I understand your concern, but you need to consider this," she gathered her words carefully, "Your mind has been affected, just as much as Spock's has."
"I don't want to spend a long time away from my shipmates," McCoy argued, "It's bad enough that Spock is gone for so long."
"Have you meditated with him, before?" Amanda inquired.
"I'm not good at it," he replied self-consciously, wringing out his hands.
"It takes practice. I can guide you through it. Sarek has taught me, and I can do so for you to a point." At Leonard's less than convinced expression, she added, "Or you can take a tranquilizer. It won't, however, make the problem go away completely. You should know this by now." A bug crawling on a flower drew his eye. Amanda raised an eyebrow. "Is this a physician's pride speaking?"
"It's a complete lack of certainty speaking."
"Take your time," she replied simply, filling her cup, "Considering the medical journals you have published over the years, doctor, you are good at doing such a thing."
"Time's something we don't have, right now."
"How so?" She waved at the sky, "I see no Federation ship."
"Doesn't mean one isn't coming," he replied cynically. Amanda, realizing how bitter he was on the subject, said nothing further. McCoy, however, shrugged. "I guess, as long as I'm here, I might as well do something. Can't have the CMO stark raving mad. The captain's bad enough."
Amanda shook her head. "The three of you are so strange, in how you interact with each other. Not quite becoming of officers, from what I have heard."
"We're family. Families are strange, in their own ways." Amanda chuckled at his statement of fact as he glanced over the garden wall at the desert beyond. "I'm assuming our elopement wasn't very popular news, here," McCoy muttered. Technically, however, it wasn't an elopement. It was an official marriage, conducted by Captain Kirk, and surrounded by crewmates in the Enterprise's chapel. Spock had looked utterly handsome in his dress uniform, and Kirk couldn't stop grinning at the two of them.
"Spock's a grown man. He can do as he pleases."
McCoy looked away. "I doubt Sarek approved of me."
"Your actions during the fal-tor-pan eliminated any residual doubts that he had of you. Frankly, I'm the one who's upset with you."
McCoy had been drinking his tea at the point and had to cover his mouth to keep from spitting it out. Abashed, he swallowed, and asked, "What did I do?"
She smiled. "Simple, you took my little boy away from me."
He returned the smile. "I feel the same way about Joanna's husband."
"Your daughter," Amanda noted, "I've heard of her. Is she well?"
McCoy lowered his mouth to his hand in thought. "Haven't heard from her in a while. Last time I did, my grandson was learning how to walk." Amanda noted quietly how McCoy's relationship with his daughter bore a similarity to Sarek's with Spock, at least upon the surface. The doctor smiled, lowering his hand. "I'm proud of her. She's a fine doctor, and mother. My sister did well by her."
She could hear the regret in his voice, and recalled Spock mentioning to her that McCoy's sister Donna had mainly raised Joanna. The doctor was not taking credit. However, she replied, "I don't think that it was only her, Leonard. From what Spock has told me, you're very proud of her achievements. She has followed in your footsteps."
He raised his eyebrows. "A bit more closely than I had thought, actually."
Amanda smiled knowingly. "Ah, yes, her relationship with Ambassador Suvak did cause a bit of a stir over the feeds." His fist clenched, his gaze hardening to ice. Amanda's smile only deepened. "Not to worry, Leonard. It was nothing a linguist could not handle. Quite a few servers are still dark."
His fist loosened. "Thank you."
She shrugged. "Anything for my granddaughter. Though, I don't think you should be thanking me, just yet. The feeds continue to speak about you."
"That doesn't surprise me," he replied, "Guess it's a good thing I don't exactly care what's said about me."
A playful look entered her eyes. "Even so, it is my house, and I will defend it."
And, not for the first time, he'd wondered what he'd gotten himself into. Had Kirk been unsuccessful in springing him, he figured that Sarek probably would have caused an intergalactic incident to save him. It did make him feel somewhat uncomfortable. Noticing his reactive body language, Amanda reassured, "Don't worry, I wouldn't do anything unethical. My point is that I won't stand by, and let someone slander you, my son, or your daughter."
"Reputation's everything, and kinship is, as well," he commented, "Seems similar to the South, in that sense."
She shrugged. "I'm a Northerner, Leonard. I wouldn't be as familiar with the tradition there."
He raised an eyebrow. "Its not backwater, but it's more confined. Outsiders aren't necessarily welcomed right away. Considering how I moved with my father and sister as a boy to the town I would grow up in, it's not an alien thing to me."
"Would you have wanted it to have been different?" She inquired.
He held up his left hand. "I would have wanted my mother with me," he lowered it, "I regret not being there for Joanna, but I will have to live with that."
"Have you stopped running from your problems?" She asked skeptically.
Leonard drew in a breath. "I didn't give the impression that I would run from Spock, did I?"
Amanda shook her head. "I had only just met you on the Enterprise, Leonard. What I can say, however, is that you clearly cared about Spock, and your captain, albeit your care was rather unorthodox."
McCoy shrugged. "Kirk and Spock are stubborn. Either I do that, or they work themselves into the ground."
She smiled knowingly. "Does he forget to eat, still?"
"Occasionally." Amanda's smile broadened, but he found he couldn't return the sentiment. "So, what do you think of me, now?"
"You two have been together for years, and, while Spock's correspondence with his father and me has been private, regarding his relationship with you, he is content." She shrugged. "If that doesn't suit you, when it comes to my opinion of you, then we'll go over the difference between Vulcan and human anatomy."
McCoy took a sip of his cup. "That's basic. Humans lack the telepathic power that Vulcans possess."
Amanda scratched the side of her arm. "You realize what sort of trouble we're both in."
He put his cup down. "If Sarek or Spock passes away, then either of us will die with her or his respective mate. If you or I die first, the strain isn't fatal, but it is still detrimental. I took that into account several years ago." In retrospect, it had made Spock's refusal to help Sarek in the aftermath of the botched assassination seem colder, in that, if Sarek was lost, Amanda would be, as well. "If the bond is broken while we're both still alive, though, that won't happen."
She nodded. "I assume Starfleet is interested in what you've learned?"
"My personal business, and Spock's, not theirs," he replied, "This isn't a science project."
She hadn't much gotten to speak with McCoy during their meeting at the ambassadors' reception, but from what she could gauge, Spock had made the right decision in choosing him as a mate. For McCoy's part, he wasn't greatly annoyed with the questioning, having gotten a different version of it from Jocelyn's parents in the past.
Nevertheless, he turned the tables on her. "What about you, Amanda? Do you miss Earth?" He asked.
"I had a feeling you would ask me that," she replied, her tone betraying her amusement. Folding her hands demurely in her lap, she shrugged. "There are people I miss, and, it seems, more now than before, I lose track of what once was."
Leonard had the feeling that she wasn't being entirely truthful in that. During times that he had melded with Spock, he had been able to view older memories and thoughts that had been buried within him. Perhaps, however, that was Amanda's point. Memories were to be shared between bond mates, if he could deduce her meaning correctly, thus they were private. However, how much of this pointed toward subversion and subterfuge, he was not quite sure.
"Those are concerns of an old woman, though," she surmised, waving her hand. "What about you, Leonard?"
"It's been a month," he commented, "I'm getting worried."
"What do you propose to do, then?" She asked.
McCoy's hands clenched. "I don't know, but I can't just watch him, like this. I'm a doctor, my job is to help, and I can't."
Amanda's long skirt swished over to him. Her hand, the veins sticking up on it, placed itself onto his., stilling the shaking of his fist. "I think it's time, then, that you also focused upon healing." He stared up at her, lost. She tugged on his hand with a reassuring smile, and he stood from the bench. "Come on, I will help you begin."
He followed her inside, leaving the garden behind.
XXXXXX
"Maneuvering past the cluster, ease up," Chekov commented.
Sulu nodded his head, and tugged back upon the controlling yoke, his teeth gritting slightly. Klingon ships were harder to manipulate, he found, than Terran.
"Sensors reading Earth's atmosphere. Well done, Mr. Sulu." Leaning backward in his seat, Chekov let out a yawn. Throughout their time upon Vulcan, Sulu and Chekov had simulated test flights to acclimate themselves with the Klingon vessel. Several had been overseen by Kirk, while others had been on their own. Sulu had grown more anxious as of late, prompting more simulations to be completed. He understood that Spock had to become mentally well again, but the urge to fly remained within him. In a way, he felt liberated, being loose from the Federation.
"Tired, Pavel?" Sulu inquired.
"The days seem to move slowly by," he answered, shaking his head, "It seems as if we have been here for a year."
"Do you miss Russia?"
"Oh, certainly!" Chekov nodded. "It is God's country, after all! You loved being with me, there!"
Sulu smiled at that as he toggled over his controls and took notes on the readouts. They'd married there, after the five-year mission. Chekov's hometown had resembled a fairy tale in setting, though it had been rather cold.
"It would be nice to return home," Chekov commented, his thoughts drifting, "It is a little too warm here."
Sulu chuckled. "You need only become more used to it, Pavel. Remember shore leave, on the beach?"
Chekov groaned. "Don't remind me of the sunburn. How the Vulcans can stand it here is beyond me." He placed a hand to his forehead and rubbed at it. He let out a sigh. "Do you think that Spock would wish to return with us? He is not beholden to us."
Sulu glanced over at him. Chekov continued, "What I mean is, it wouldn't seem fair if he felt obligated to stand trial with the rest of us."
"It wouldn't be an obligation, but a choice," Sulu replied.
"And the doctor?" Chekov asked tentatively, "If Spock wanted to stay?"
Sulu's hand paused. "He's not going to have a favorable opinion of Earth, right now, Pavel."
Chekov folded his arms with a groan. "Right, considering they were going to throw him in the loony bin like that."
"But," Sulu held up a finger, "Earth does not necessarily mean us. Besides, I don't think McCoy would leave. He'd see it as abandoning us."
"Wouldn't Sarek grant us amnesty?" Chekov inquired.
Sulu shook his head. "Kirk wouldn't want that. I wouldn't, either, and neither would you."
Chekov shrugged. "You have me there." Toggling the control panel, he brought up a star map. Re-sizing it, he scrolled through the immediate area, Vulcan appearing as a red dot.
"How's your head?" Sulu asked.
Chekov folded his arms. "Fine. It's been fine for weeks."
Some things never changed, Sulu decided. Pavel was as stubborn as ever, but he sympathized as to why. While no one could blame Chekov for Spock's death, as well as that of several crewmen, and the loss of the Genesis device, his body had been used as an instrument in such.
It was good to have Pavel with him again. He'd missed him. Chekov had grown more into himself, becoming more confident in his strides and tone of voice. Sulu, on the other hand, found that while he enjoyed his time on the Enterprise, his ambitions continued to call to him.
Feeling Sulu's dark eyes tracing over him, Chekov mumbled, "Hikaru, enough. You're making me uncomfortable."
"Sorry," he replied, turning his eyes away.
Pavel wanted to tell him that he could take care of himself, and had been doing so, but knew there wasn't a point. Hikaru had faithfully returned his letters, signing each one, and commenting on Chekov's progress. He knew. "No, don't apologize," he replied, "I'd just rather that we allow it to pass." They hadn't had time together during the battle against Khan, and afterwards, the mood had been utterly somber upon the ship. The night Spock's casket was shot into space, Chekov, having been given spare quarters, had found it difficult to sleep.
Sulu, physically and mentally exhausted, had stumbled over to the doors into his quarters at the chime. Leaning on the wall for support, he squinted at the light. "Pavel," he had mumbled, rubbing at his eyes, "It can't be time to get up yet."
Chekov had shaken his head. "Hikaru, I…" His expression had been utterly lost, and miserable.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, and tugging him into his quarters, Sulu had held him to his chest. Pavel had clung to him as he had led him to lay down beside him. While Chekov dozed, his head upon his husband's shoulder, and his knees twisted toward him, Sulu had stared up at the ceiling, and thought of Spock's casket, resting peacefully upon the surface of the Genesis planet.
"I'm willing to do that," Sulu replied, his hands working over the controls. He grinned up at Chekov. "Pavel, let's not go back. Let's take the ship and fly off into space. We'll go wherever we want!"
Chekov grinned back, saluting him. "Aye, sir! We'll be swashbucklers!"
Sulu reached out a hand, and mussed Chekov's hair. Chekov pushed at his hand. "Hey, hey! What was that for?"
"You look so cute when you say that," he replied with a grin. At Chekov's less than impressed expression, he shrugged. "I'm just telling the truth."
"You can always sleep on the floor," Chekov muttered.
"I think it would be an improvement over sleeping on a shelf," Sulu pointed out. Chekov found himself at a loss for words, as he had been complaining about the Klingon bunk leaving kinks in his back.
Finding his voice again, he argued, "Yes, but it's my shelf."
"Okay, then." He tilted his head to the side with a carefree smile.
Chekov sighed. "Which you can visit whenever you want, preferably if you'd leave my ego intact."
"I suppose I can do that," he affirmed, his fingers twitching over the controls.
Chekov glanced at his fingers and wondered if Sulu had been partially serious when making his offer. He shook his head. "I don't want our wings clipped, just yet. I'm having too much fun flying."
Sulu nodded gravely. "We'll see what happens, then."
Sulu's serenity continued to baffle Chekov. He shook his head. "At some point, I must understand your faith. It seems to make acceptance of life easier."
Abandoning the control panel, Sulu turned fully to look at him. "We will talk about it sometime, if you are truly interested."
"There is no time like the present," Chekov pointed out, "We don't know where we will be, again, when all is said and done."
Sulu picked up Chekov's hands, and placed a kiss to the back of one after the other. Pavel smiled at the contact and leaned toward him. "That hasn't stopped us before, dear."
Boots clacked across the floor. "Hey, get a room, you two!" Uhura called out. Turning, they met with her grin, her hand held theatrically beside her mouth.
"We have this one," Chekov replied jokingly.
She winked at them, and sat down at the communications station, her notes on the Klingon language beside her. If there was to be a new era of peace, as the talks between the Federation and the Klingon Empire had hinted toward, over the feeds, much would have to be sacrificed, and done. Even if that era faltered before it even began. She glanced up at Sulu and Chekov as the two continued to softly speak and caress each other. Then again, as exemplified throughout human history, change took time.
She placed the side of her hand to her lips, her stylus between her fingers. But what concerned her, more so than much else, was how those of her generation would adapt. Even in Sarek's time, when Vulcans were not enemies of humanity, it was complicated. She smiled. That was all right. It didn't scare her.
XXXXXX
"That should be the last of it," Scotty commented, grunting as he set down the sack of vegetables. With the stores on the Klingon bird of prey not having items palatable to humans, they'd had to rely upon the market for food. Kirk had offered to foot the bill, but Sarek had taken on the expense, the last McCoy had heard.
"Oh, good," McCoy grunted as he set down the heavy jugs of water. Wiping at his brow, he let out a sigh. It would have been easier, if Spock had been around to carry the goods, but he was still away, testing himself again, and meditating upon his rebirth.
H.M.S. Bounty had been Scotty's idea, and it fit well. The engineer had expressed both excitement and frustration with the ship, being that it was his chance to work on a piece of Klingon manufacturing, but also with heavy limitations.
"You don't know anyone out here who could get us a good brandy?" Scotty asked as he began to unload the food.
McCoy feigned innocence. "Come again?"
"Lad, it's not as if we can sink ourselves further into a hole," Scotty pointed out.
McCoy placed his hands upon the counter. "Vulcan's not exactly the best place for smugglers."
Scotty laughed at that. "No, I suppose not. Best I begin making us all dinner. I'll be hearing complaints about it, otherwise."
"What do you have in mind?" He asked.
Scotty shrugged as he diced vegetables. "Something hearty, and simple. Sulu uses too much spice in his food for my liking."
McCoy snorted. "That's because you're so used to tasteless food. You can't enjoy it."
"Oh, and your so-called 'soul food' is so much the better? Please tell me how something that requires so much butter to even begin to have a taste is so appetizing."
Not to be outdone, McCoy fired back, "I would be better at cooking grits if I wasn't so used to replicated food. Whose fault is that?"
Scotty tossed a carrot at him. McCoy barely caught it before it hit the floor. "There, lad, a sample for ye. Now, run along and play while supper is readied."
"Cute," he replied, putting down the carrot and walking away, calling over his shoulder, "Oh, and check the water jugs. I think one of them is leaking."
Scotty mumbled under his breath and set the knife down. Turning each over, he felt along the bottom, but found no issue. He gasped as the bottom came off in his hand. Within it was a small flask containing an amber liquid. Smiling, he uncorked it to take a swig.
XXXXXX
In some ways, Kirk decided, he could see the appeal of Vulcan. It had an old majesty to it, and its vastness was something a man could get lost in. The mysticism of Vulcan culture, which he had so recently found a window into, also piqued his curiosity. There was much that he still did not know about Spock, and perhaps would not know.
Gary had joked and called him a walking stack of books. While books told of Vulcan's history, being there boasted a far different experience. Kirk took his time. Nevertheless, however, it wasn't for sightseeing. Spock still grasped for the years that had been taken from him. He'd held his best friend's body in his arms on the Genesis planet, and felt his labored breathing, but it had been an empty shell. Kirk lowered his head at his lack of surety.
"Hey, Jim." He glanced up and smiled invitingly as McCoy settled down beside him on the gangplank. "Scotty's kicked me out of the kitchen, so we'll see how that turns out."
Kirk snorted. "What'd you do?"
"He started it," McCoy replied, folding his arms in annoyance, "Never insult a man's cooking."
Kirk moved to rise mockingly. "Well now, I'll just have to give Scotty a little talking to."
"Like you would. Sit down, Jim," McCoy replied with a roll of his eyes.
"All right, just offering my support as your captain," he replied.
McCoy snorted, and looked to the distance. "Sun's going down. He's usually back by now."
Kirk shrugged. "Might be a longer session."
McCoy shook his head. "The intellectual part is easy for him, computer that he is. It's the other part that's difficult. On paper, he knows enough to be a Starfleet officer again, but beyond that…" His voice trailed off, and he brought his wrist to the side of his face to rub at it.
"What about Spock and you?" Kirk inquired.
"It's complicated," McCoy muttered, bracing his hand upon the metal framework. Kirk didn't see fit to press the point further. McCoy hadn't lapsed in his memory of his own physical actions, which indicated to him that his friend was completely in control of himself. Still, there was a distance between them, as there was a gulf between him and Spock. His second-in-command and his doctor were tangled up in themselves, and he had difficulty determining where to grasp the correct thread. Likely, unraveling it posed the danger of unraveling both, as well.
Then McCoy opened his mouth again. "Jim, talk to me."
He swung his head about to look at his friend. Funny, how their dynamic had shifted, over the years. McCoy had often dragged Kirk backward from the edge, before he could fall into self-loathing and anguish. Since Spock's death, however, McCoy had leaned upon Kirk to keep himself from slipping into a dark realm. Kirk had led the Enterprise at a limp back to space dock, while McCoy threw himself into his work during their shifts. Off-duty, however, he'd drank with the doctor, though conversation between them was little to be had. "Jim, go spend time with your son," Leonard would occasionally prod him.
He hadn't wanted to lose him, either, and watched over him. Still, holding the ship together had taken precedence. Kirk hadn't realized just how much he had grieved Spock's death until he had yanked McCoy into the light of Spock's room.
Kirk cracked his knuckles. He didn't have much he wanted to say and wished that McCoy would just leave it alone. David was another loss, just as parents, his brother, Gary, and Edith had been. He did not want to go over this, as well. "I barely knew David," Kirk pointed out. He shook his head at himself, "I thought I had been making up for that last time, by getting to know him. We wrote, we talked, we worked together, but it wasn't enough."
McCoy was silent for a few moments before replying, "I can give you any number of old axioms about how we don't truly treasure one another until we are gone. However, that would be so hollow, now." Kirk lowered his head to his folded heads. He felt a hand upon his shoulder and took a shuddering breath.
Gary had grinned up at Kirk from his hospital bed, his mental powers growing stronger. He'd lost his lover, that day, and he envisioned what could have been whenever he saw Bones and Spock together.
"Jim, what would David have wanted?" McCoy asked, "He didn't know that you had existed."
Kirk raised his head and rubbed at his face. "It just feels like I wasted so much time." His friend nodded sympathetically. "There's so much I didn't know about him. I could ask Carol, but—" He broke off, "That's a different problem altogether."
"So what will you do, be like me?" McCoy asked with a shrug, "Run from it, and become a space cowboy again?"
Kirk nudged him. "You urged me to take my command back. Which is it, Bones?"
"If you hadn't done that, Jim, you would've been a desk jockey for the rest of your days. Would that have been fulfilling?"
Kirk already knew the answer. He thought to retort that McCoy was one to talk but realized that that was the doctor's point. Leaning back on his hands, he let out a breath. "When the ship's repaired, I'm heading back."
"Wherever you go, I go," McCoy reassured.
Kirk shook his head. "Bones, I appreciate it, but you don't have to. It's your choice, now."
McCoy hit him lightly on the shoulder. "I just made it."
And leave Spock alone? Though, he understood why McCoy drew to him. Leonard had been wrapped within Spock not too long ago. The doctor was afraid of becoming lost within him completely, as he had been, before. Linked tightly as they were, human and Vulcan, it carried the risk of their own personas completely collapsing. While he'd served as mediator between his two closest friends during the five-year mission, he understood now that he also needed to function as a sort of stabilizing barrier. He grinned. "Just keep your hands off my food."
"Get rid of the gut, and we'll talk."
Kirk laughed, relaxing himself upon the gangplank. "There was a message for me from Gideon, when we were returning to dock."
"Oh?" McCoy inquired.
Kirk nodded. "The illness has continued to reduce their population. The planet is still straining under the sheer amount of resources that must be used to feed the population. Odona mentioned that the sociological structure is also undergoing changes. More voices are calling for an end to the disease."
"No calls for contraception?" McCoy asked with a scowl.
"Not that she would mention to me," he replied, spreading his hands, "Funny, really. Odona was willing to give herself over for her planet, and her father was all for her sacrifice. Now, look at me, and look what has become of Gideon."
"Spock had a bit of cold calculus, regarding his own life," McCoy mentioned, his tone bitter.
"Speaking of him, here he comes," Kirk commented quietly as he glimpsed Spock's white robe, stark against the dirt. Turning to McCoy, he wondered when the doctor had sensed his approach. McCoy's eyes were drawn to the approaching figure, and he appeared to be in a bit of a trance, intently studying him. Kirk reached up and shook his shoulder. "Bones."
McCoy's eyes flicked down to him. "What?" He asked, his tone disquietingly flat.
The flatness wasn't meant with malice, rather it was attention division. McCoy was drifting from him again, and he wished to grab him, as well as Spock, and yank them back into the physical realm. But it wasn't possible now. "Just wanted to make sure you're still in there."
Spock's robe whispered up the gangplank. He paused before them. Kirk gave a small wave, and McCoy crossed his arms as he looked up at him. "Captain, doctor."
"Welcome home," Kirk replied, "Just in time for dinner."
"I see," he replied, "and what is it we are having?"
"I tried to get an answer out of Scotty, but nothing there," McCoy replied, "Doesn't the surprise make it more worthwhile?"
Spock shook his head. "That is illogical. It would taste the same, regardless of whether I knew what it would be ahead of time."
Kirk smiled at the exchange as McCoy rolled his eyes. While it held a shade of their previous banter, it felt as if Spock had gone backwards, relearning human humor and sentiment. On the other hand, however, Spock continued to return to eat with the crew. He felt connected to them, again, even in a small manner.
Kirk knew that he couldn't ask Spock questions about his meetings, and he would not, anyway, due to it being a personal matter for him. Spock fastened his dark gaze upon him. They had little to talk about, these days, with most of Spock's memories involving him being muddled. McCoy had been doing his part to assist, prodding at Spock to expand upon memories that featured him, only to include others within the periphery. It had led to embarrassing occasions, with McCoy having to, his face beet red, hide his expression in his hand as Spock commented to Kirk that the doctor had been "worried about Jim too" on 892-IV.
"I did have a question for you, Captain," Spock began.
"Sure, Spock."
"There was something I created, several hundred years in the past," he glanced over at McCoy, who closed his eyes, being used to this motion, "when we searched for the doctor."
Kirk raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. "A computer, yes, Spock!" Spock had built the computer in the Twentieth Century of Earth, during the time that it had been only the two of them due to McCoy being missing.
"What became of it? I cannot remember. It would not have been ethical, to have left it," he replied.
"Oh, you dismantled it," Kirk replied. He'd been busy comforting McCoy and trying to explain why Edith had to die.
"Logical," he replied, "though I am unsure as to what occurred during the time that I had built it."
Kirk smiled, and McCoy scooted backward. "We helped Edith Keeler in her mission. It was mundane and cold. Hiding your ears and your strength got interesting, after a while. It was like playing a game."
"Compassionate, then," Spock replied, "Though I cannot help but wonder how we could have altered the timeline further by saving another life."
"We had to keep our cover. We took that risk by going to the past to begin with," Kirk argued gently. Spock mused over this, and Kirk filled the silence. "Though, there were discoveries that we had made, on our own, about that period."
"Could you tell me about them, sometime?" Spock asked.
Kirk's eyes lit up. "Sure, whenever you want."
Spock placed a hand to the side of his head. "Perhaps later? I have grown tired, from today's revelations."
"Of course," Kirk replied, understanding from his subtle bodily motions toward McCoy that he wished to be left with the doctor. Rising, he said with a wink, "Don't get lost, you two," and re-entered the ship.
"Could I show you something?" Spock inquired.
McCoy could feel a shadow of anticipation stirring within Spock. He shrugged. "Do I look like I'm busy?"
"No." Turning, he gestured for McCoy to follow him. They strode away from the bird of prey, the voices of the others dying with the distance. There didn't seem to be much of a point in small talk, given their mental connection. He could feel Spock's lack of emotional certainty pressing down upon him. Intellectually, however, he felt stronger, mathematical calculations and information spilling forth from him. McCoy put a hand to his head, at that, and nearly staggered from the overload.
"Doctor?" Spock glanced over his shoulder at him.
McCoy lowered his hand from his head. "You're dropping an encyclopedia on me," he replied, taking the easier route, "It's a little hard to work through everything."
Spock blinked at that, and the information dump slowly receded, though McCoy still, in his mind's eye, had visuals of differing types of rocks and volcanic activity that Spock was turning over mentally. "Better?"
He nodded, continuing after him. The lateness of the day allowed Vulcan's sister planet, T'Khut, to loom over them. It gave off a foreboding feeling, which was lessened, somewhat, by a ship cutting through it as it flew across the skyline. Canyons dropped off into nowhere, while, in the distance, massive forms moved back and forth. The forms appeared to be Spock's heading. For a moment, McCoy wished he had taken a phaser with him for protection, but immediately quelled his concerns. Spock wasn't foolish.
Funny, really, how the surface of the planet resembled Hell, at least upon first glance, given the way he continuously ribbed Spock about his appearance. The bond, however, presented a different look, with such landforms being familiar, and the warmth of the planet being comforting. Nevertheless, sociologically it wouldn't have been the better choice for him to make the same choice as Amanda, given the insularity of Vulcan culture. While T'Pring had orchestrated the beginnings of the attempted secession from the Federation, she was tapping into beliefs that had existed beneath the surface. After McCoy's own argument had been added, he knew that likely he would not have made many friends upon the surface of the world. His marriage to Spock wasn't a secret, and, likely, during the debates over the secession, less than official sources had most likely cited personal bias to derail his and Spock's arguments. Earth was not necessarily better, in this regard, but Spock had been more in favor of living with Leonard in an area where he was not vastly outnumbered by physically stronger beings.
It seemed so much easier upon the Enterprise, really, their work keeping them close together. Now that was gone. McCoy felt as if he would be taking Spock from his home world and wasn't sure if that was necessarily a sound thing to do. Even if Spock reassured him, he wasn't in a right state of mind. His eyes widened as he realized that he had put up his mental wall too late.
Spock had stopped and was staring back at him.
Dead man walking.
McCoy immediately regretted the phrase in his mind. Spock shrugged at it.
For a moment, anger seized him, and he wished to take Spock by the shoulders, and shake him for that shrug. He'd lied to him and left him in the land of the living. The entire crew had sacrificed everything to bring him back, and he was so distant to them. He didn't want this replication wearing a white robe. He wished to have him back again, clad in his Starfleet uniform, and vexing him as he once had.
He wanted everything that he couldn't have now. McCoy realized that he was considering running again from his problems, just as he had from his failed marriage, and from his impending doom from xenopolycythemia poisoning. It was selfish to demand of Spock for him to act as McCoy wanted him to, just as selfish as it had been for Spock to place his essence within him.
When he started forward, however, he merely grabbed Spock by the shoulder, and squeezed it. Sourly, he wondered if they were going to be able to walk anywhere together, given their mental interference with each other.
The pen before them was ringed with metal, Vulcans within attending to the furred beasts with long teeth. Sehlats, McCoy figured, recalling Amanda's reference to them during the five-year mission. Spock held up a hand to gesture to one of the attendants. The male Vulcan nodded his head and whistled to the sehlat. At his gesture, the sehlat moved toward Spock and McCoy.
McCoy swallowed as the massive beast pounded toward him. He felt considerably dwarfed by the creature, and instinct told him to run. However, what rooted him to the spot was a familiarity, that which was not his own. He saw himself, or, rather, Spock hugging and cuddling against a sehlat as a child. The creature would not harm him. The sehlat stopped at the fence before them and sniffed inquiringly at their presence.
Spock slowly raised his hand and coaxed the creature to lower its head. The beast sniffed at his hand and licked it. Turning his head toward him, he explained, "This is a teddy bear, Leonard."
A grin spread across McCoy's face. "Is that right?"
Spock shrugged. "You were interested in seeing one, weren't you?'
McCoy stared back up at the creature in awe, and Spock coaxed him toward the sehlat. Grasping his arm, he directed, "Stand here, and make no sudden movements." Slowly, McCoy extended his hand toward the beast. Its jaws parted, sending tingles of fear through the fragile human, only to relax when a pink tongue extended to lick at his palm.
McCoy glanced over his shoulder at Spock, who nodded, and brought his hand over to the side of the side of the sehlat's head, stroking the coarse fur. "He's quite handsome," he commented, "What's his name?"
"He is not mine," Spock replied, "Mine passed away several years ago."
McCoy turned to him at that, and sehlat bumped up against his hand, and sniffed about his jacket. Turning his head back with a raised eyebrow, he said to the beast, "Sorry, no doggie treats."
Spock shrugged. "It could not be helped. He was quite old. Although, you would likely find a reminder of my childhood amusing."
"Always wanted a dog," McCoy commented, staggering forward with a grunt as the sehlat nudged him from behind, "Hey, cut it out!"
"I think you have found a friend, doctor," Spock observed with a raised eyebrow.
"I wouldn't want him stinking up the ship," he replied, nudging the animal backwards. When the sehlat refused to relent, he sighed. "Spock, help me."
Spock stepped forward, and meaningfully pushed the sehlat away, commanding it in Vulcan to leave. The creature swung about and padded heavily off. Running a hand through his hair, which had been tussled by the sehlat, McCoy grumbled, "You did that on purpose."
Turning back to him, Spock replied innocently, "Were you not curious, Leonard?"
It almost seemed as if they had returned to their past of bantering, McCoy thought. On the other hand, however, it was as if Spock was testing the waters again and trying to slide back into his old role. "Of course. Just wasn't expecting to visit a Vulcan petting zoo," he replied.
"A petting zoo?"
He shook his head. "Never mind."
They watched the sehlats pace back and forth until Spock asked, "Do you still wish to have a dog?"
McCoy snorted. "When would I have time to take care of one? You and I were busy with Starfleet, so I never brought it up." He turned to look at him. "What, you want one?"
He'd asked the question before understanding its implications, the domesticity of their married life having seemed so far away.
Leaning against Spock's shoulder as the two worked on filing separate reports, Spock leaving a cup of black coffee for him while he nursed a particularly bad hangover, draping a thermal blanket over Spock's shivering form, and scolding him for working himself into the ground… For years, Leonard had slowly relaxed back into the role of a husband again, though unease tended to barb him. Disagreements occurred between them. They had to, as they had with any other couple, but nothing nearly as harsh as with Jocelyn. He'd begun to feel safe and considered that perhaps his third marriage would be different.
And it was. It could still be now. Spock remained with him, more so now than ever, the deepening of their bond causing him nearly to draw backward in fear. He was lacking in proper footing. They both were; he could feel Spock's confusion, despite the shell of a man he had drawn himself back into. Well, no point in their arguments anymore, he supposed.
Nah.
"You desired one," Spock replied, sidestepping the question, "Would we not wish for the same things, if we remained together?"
McCoy's hand fell from his hair. He reached his hand toward Spock. Spock hesitated. Leonard, despite his unhappiness at his reaction, understood it. It was not personal, merely years of biological instinct. Spock's fingers curled around Leonard's. Turning away from the sehlat pasture, Spock led him toward the cliffside. Sprawling out beyond it was a view of the desert, and the nearest city. Grasping his hands and arms protectively, to keep him from falling, he brought him down to a jutting outcropping upon it. McCoy's joints ached from the climbing, and he grumbled about such, leaning against a rock. "We couldn't have talked up there?" He asked in annoyance.
"It is better for us not to be overheard," he folded his hands, "Considering the strain I have put you through, mentally, I thought you would prefer to converse." With a scenic view, McCoy noted mentally. Spock nodded his head. "That was also a factor in my selection."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable. He gets me a teddy bear and shows me a sunset. Poor boy's trying too hard on the first date."
"Our courtship, as I recall, was not quite conventional," Spock pointed out.
Despite the lightness of the mood, Leonard inquired, "What is it, Spock?"
"There are issues I must resolve with you."
McCoy held up a hand. "Don't. Not now."
"This cannot remain as it is," he replied.
McCoy sighed, and stared out at the desert. "Can't we talk about something else? What about those tests you're running, or, hell, the fact that you're on your own world, again?"
"Leonard," Spock's voice rose slightly.
Relenting, McCoy rubbed at his eyes. "Spock, look, I'm just glad you're alive. That should be enough."
"You normally would fight with me over personal foibles," Spock folded his hands together, and tilted his head, "Unless I am remembering incorrectly?"
"This isn't a foible, Spock. You were dead," he replied plainly, "I'm not going to fight with you on this. It's in bad taste."
"Then, could I ask for forgiveness?" Spock pressed.
McCoy swallowed at that, knowing that he wasn't going to allow the matter to sit. He could also detect the underlying meaning of this. He hesitated and leaned heavily against the rock.
"They were going to lock you away," Spock commented gravely, "I apologize for that."
Apologies were so flimsy. He'd felt himself split into two people, battling for control over his body with an unknown assailant. His consciousness had been snatched from him, only to, when he grasped the pieces of it, leave him a picture that didn't fit. He couldn't understand any of it. Anger burned through him at Spock, for throwing this all upon him.
McCoy's breath caught in his throat, and his knees buckled. Spock caught him by grasping onto his waist. The doctor trembled in his arms, forcing him to sit down, Leonard held close to him. Emotion was difficult for Spock to grasp now, yet it spilled forth from his husband. There was utter anguish and pain, so much of it. There was grief from watching Spock die in front of him. There was self-loathing from being unable to stop him. Confusion permeated much of McCoy's psyche, with his sharing a mind in such a manner utterly jarring him. While there was joy at having Spock back, it was tempered with a fear of losing him again. There was also, understandably, sheer dismay at Spock for his actions before entering the radiation room.
"Made a widower out of me, damn you!" He cried, his voice cracking. Any comments Spock was about to make on McCoy's exclamation were lost as the doctor buried his head in his neck and sobbed.
Spock flinched at the bodily contact. McCoy, compromised as he was, felt utterly ashamed. The next moment, however, Spock grasped the back of McCoy's head, and kept him from moving away. McCoy clung to him tightly, tears continuing to run down his face. Hands fisted in Spock's white robe. Leonard was utterly beside himself, reality at last crashing down upon him. Spock felt utterly jarred, from his time within Leonard's body. He had emotions of his own, more powerful in feeling than his husband's, and they had raged within the doctor's mind. Under heavy sedation of tranquilizers, McCoy had been adrift, in some ways, in Spock's embrace, without full knowledge of it.
"Don't leave me," Leonard whispered, spluttering against the tears, "Please don't, not again."
No one could see them there, underneath the craggy overhang. No one would care to hear McCoy cry, save for his husband. Spock's hand came up to McCoy's chin. The doctor detached a hand from him to turn away, and wipe hard at his face. He sniffled and felt utterly pitiful.
"If you would have me again, I will stay," Spock replied.
A painful memory, from several years ago, dragged itself to the forefront of his mind. Spock hovered over him on Minara II, his hand clearing away the hair that was plastered to McCoy's head. The pain was extreme, his life slipping away from him with each passing moment. Through the touch, Spock had whispered comforts to him, and expressed heavily the desire to change places with him. McCoy's concerns about his life withering away were answered with Spock bringing forth pieces of meaning to him, beyond his academic accomplishments. McCoy's faith fragmented, at the end of it, and he had feared himself consigned to oblivion, never to see Jim or Spock again. Spock, however, caught him, his response to him shining like a light against the encroaching darkness of that chamber. "I will find you there, Ashayam." Wherever "there" was. It was so illogical, and so utterly human in its earnestness.
Clad in a clean uniform, his wounds healed, and skin bound back up, McCoy had asked Spock to marry him. Their lovemaking that night, he recalled, had been tender, as if Spock had been concerned that he would break his betrothed. Yet, he had also been possessive, pinning Leonard beneath him, and kissing, licking, and nipping at his exposed skin. Marks had been left in multiple places, with the Vulcan murmuring into his flesh how Leonard was his, how he would not let him go, and the doctor crying out Spock's name.
Raising his bloodshot eyes to look at Spock, McCoy scrubbed at the corner of his eye.
"I cannot fully remember all of it," Spock explained, "But I recall the sensations. You deceived me that day, Leonard."
"I was protecting you."
"As I protected my crew, and my mate," he replied, bringing his hand up to stroke McCoy's graying hair, "Though I should have considered what this would have done to you further. It was a logical decision, but perhaps not the most compassionate."
McCoy caught his hand. "Spock, if we hadn't been able to figure out was wrong with me, then what would have happened?" The dark gaze lowered. "You gambled with my life to preserve your own."
"Human beings have craved immortality for centuries," Spock offered as a counterpoint, "Hence, works of art, wars for conquest, and entire civilizations have marked its history in this pursuit."
"Don't consider yourself above mankind on that," Leonard hissed.
Spock returned his gaze to him. "I am not. I am accepting that failing. You threw Gem from you when she attempted to save you, doctor."
McCoy, however, chose against gloating on that point. Funny, how he'd first mentally bonded with Spock, before marrying him. It didn't much matter, placing his mental health on the line, as opposed to simply slipping on a ring, but he had his own history with the institution, and his stubbornness to blame. He'd felt the fragmentation of the mental bond, as he'd pounded on the glass of the radiation chamber and screamed at Spock to get out. Spock's voice grew fainter in his mind from the pain, and from his being dragged, painfully, away from him. Amanda's words had only been a confirmation of what he had already known. Likely, had Spock not given him his katra, McCoy would not have lived much longer afterward. Without either of them, he could not begin to imagine how Kirk would have fared. He would have had Carol, and David…But that wouldn't have been enough. He knew Jim too well.
He was relieved that he didn't open his mouth and condemn Spock, despite the utterly slipshod manner how his husband had cheated death.
Spock placed his other hand to the other side of Leonard's head, connecting to his psi-points. McCoy could feel it, then, the mangled emotions that twisted within Spock. Instinctively, he attempted to grasp onto the problem, and fix it, as befit his training as a surgeon, but he knew it wouldn't be so easy. There were multiple things Spock had to resolve alone. They were both mutilated, internally. In some ways, Spock wanted to retreat into Leonard's mind, and re-inhabit the safe zones the doctor had for him there. Leonard smiled at him. "Darling, how would I see you?"
The pleasures related to the flesh were to be rediscovered, in eventuality. Spock was not ready for that, yet, though his recollections of their trysts remained. That wasn't, however, the doctor's intention. Rather, it was along the lines of being able to hold him again.
McCoy turned away, moving to get up. "Sorry. I shouldn't have clung to you like that. You don't need to deal with this, right now."
Spock caught his wrist. "Ashayam." Leonard's eyes flicked to the side. "You are my mate, and I have put you through this. I will listen."
"You're healing, Spock. You don't need to take this on."
The Vulcan shook his head. "Then you will have learned nothing from our past mistakes." Spock had hidden his intention to die from him, the wall rising on their bond until it was too late.
"Learning is one thing. Sobbing into your shoulder like a lovesick schoolboy is another."
"You still rely upon your feelings," he noted.
McCoy shrugged. "It's just me. You'd rather I be more like you?"
"It is both an endearing and a frustrating quality you possess," Spock replied, "You are not as changed as I had thought you would be."
"You don't know that," McCoy countered, his voice taking on a rough edge, "We have time to talk about this. It can wait."
"You will each be court-martialed by Starfleet," Spock pointed out, "I will join you on this."
"No," the doctor shook his head, "For God's sake, Spock, enjoy your life! If you throw it away now, what would be the point of it?"
Spock placed his hand to the side of Leonard's face, his mate swallowing at the remembered intimacy of the gesture. He stroked his thumb over his cheek. "On Yonada, I nearly lost you."
McCoy glanced down at that. "It was years ago, Spock."
"You expressed the desire to marry Natira, and I allowed you to go. This despite our being lovers, and our minds being bonded."
McCoy was quick to attempt to justify himself. "I didn't want you to see me dying. You had your life ahead of you, then, with Kirk, and the others. You could have cut the bond with me, it would have saved you the pain."
Spock lowered his forehead to Leonard's. McCoy spoke no further, knowing why he did not. Spock's attachment to him lacked in rationality, but nonetheless it remained, especially so after the intimacies they had shared before Yonada. He didn't want to leave Leonard as an island unto himself, being the only off-worlder on Yonada, despite the pain he felt at the doctor avoiding telling him of his fatal illness, and his seeking temporary comfort from another. Though there also was a sense of great jealousy toward Natira that had remained even during their wedding night (in retrospect, Leonard figured that would explain the bruises Spock gave him from fucking him into the mattress, as well).
Leonard's dreams after Spock's death had been quite strange. He'd seen places and individuals he had not before known, yet they were utterly familiar to him, on the more innocent side of things. Carnally, however, he could feel their bodies writhing, connecting further, melting into each other as their pleasure became one. It was the latter that caused him to awaken in a cold sweat, clutching at the sheets. He had feared, then, that he was coming closer to joining Spock in his grave, with his husband whispering to him, and drawing him, despite his not physically being there.
Spock could not have brought himself to cut the bond. Leonard had honored it by choosing the danger for the fal-tor-pan. But there was one crucible that remained to be passed, though it was more legal than spiritual.
Spock drew back, and Leonard saw the confusion and uncertainty in his eyes over his rebirth, his body's rapid aging, and his memories, still shadowed. McCoy raised his hand to the back of his head, and lowered Spock to his shoulder. "We're going to be okay, love," he comforted. Over Spock's head, he stared back into T'Khut's burning eye.
In that moment, McCoy felt miniscule, knowing that Vulcan's sister planet had likely seen millions of natives die, their designs for their lives mangled. He clutched his husband closer.
Not this one.