This is Part 5 of the Deadly Sins series which eventually will explain why McCoy and Spock left Starfleet after the five year mission.
Lust continues right where Gluttony ended. If you're confused about the plot, you should read first Pride then Sloth then Envy and then Gluttony ;-) … Or just the summary below. If you're familiar with the plot so far, you deserve my respect :-D and you should skip the summary or you're going to get bored.
Doctor McCoy was mind raped on Meriah Five by Delihan, a high official of Meriah. He recovered with the help of Spock and Kirk who found out that the Romulans, foremost Commander Tamulok, had their fingers in it too. Delihan is imprisoned on Meriah for treason. (Pride)
The Enterprise answers a distress call, and finds that all Romulans of Tamulok's ship and all Vulcans from the ship that escorted them back to Romulan space, have been infected with a virus that controls their minds. Spock is affected too and under the influence of the virus he attempts to murder McCoy. In the end, everyone is saved and cured from the virus. Tamulok is beamed on board the Enterprise, and T'Plok, a female Vulcan doctor, takes residence in sickbay to help out the understaffed medical crew of the Enterprise. (Sloth)
Tamulok escapes with the help of T'Plok, who turned out to be a Romulan spy called Velal. While Tamulok manages to stay on the run, Velal is taken into custody. She admits that Tamulok is a danger not only to the Federation but also to the Romulan Star Empire and she wants to have him eliminated. However, she seems to be unable to kill him herself. (Envy)
Kirk and McCoy beam into the Prolia Prison Complex on Meriah to question Delihan about Tamulok's whereabouts. They find out that all prisoners in that camp are infected with the virus (c.f. Sloth) and are telepathically controlled by the free Meriahns outside the prison. When the prisoners start to attack them, they manage to escape with the help of Delihan who later dies in an accident before he could tell them anything about Tamulok. McCoy manages to get an injured Kirk to safety, but cannot escape himself. Meanwhile, Spock has to decide between getting Kirk to a neurosurgeon on Starbase 3 in order to save his life or investing precious time to work out a risky plan to save McCoy. Spock decides to rescue McCoy who is then able to help Kirk. Afterwards McCoy is utterly exhausted and unable to sleep. Kirk and Spock, in an attempt to help McCoy rest, come to McCoy's quarters and coax him into sleeping with Kirk beside him. (Gluttony)
o0o
Lust is usually thought of as excessive thoughts or desires of a sexual nature. (Wikipedia)
Lust
McCoy floated between dream and reality. His pillow was soft beneath him and made a perfect dent for the side of his face. His blanket lay losely over his body, keeping in the langurous warmth around it. He could feel a light pressure of something pressed against his back, something warm, and soft that made him feel snug and secure. A warm, gentle breeze brushed against the back of his neck in a regular rhythm.
McCoy knew he was in his own bed, hovering in a half-conscious and strangely omnipotent state, where he could form reality according to his wishes, and travel to wherever he wanted. The porch of his parents' house, maybe?
Immediately, he found himself lying in a hammock that he'd put up there one summer when he was a boy of fourteen or fifteen. It was one of those warm, humid nights, when the air was heavy, laden with the fragrance of the jasmine vine that grew all over the side of the house.
He concentrated and smelled it again. There was something else. … Music! His parents were sitting inside the house, listening to classical music he didn't like. He used to close every door between him and that noise, but some figments of the melody had always reached his ears. It was a pleasant sound now, a reminder of his happy and sheltered childhood, of being loved and encouraged by his parents, though at the time, it had been highly annoying.
Gemma was sitting on the porch railing, furiously typing on her PADD whose artificial light softly illuminated her face in a greyish-blue glow, making the rough scars on her right cheek and her neck almost disappear. He had thought her breathtakingly beautiful then, and had contemplated on how to tell her that, without sounding like a complete jerk. She hadn't worn her scarf to hide the wrinkly, red skin on her neck that night, because he'd convinced her that he didn't care how she looked like, but only cared about what she had in her brilliant brain. It had taken him all of his skills of persuasion to get her to work with him on the biology project.
Gemma usually kept to herself, out of habit. Her appearance, a result from an accident she'd had as a ten-year-old, made her subject to all kinds of mean behaviour from their peers. Leonard felt sorry for her and had tried to befriend her before, but she'd always blocked off any advances. She mistrusted his good intentions, he'd believed then.
He knew better now. She had tried to avoid becoming emotionally attached to anyone, after having lost her mother and sister in same accident. It was a familiar strategy, one that he himself had adopted years later - or had tried to.
A harsh sound threatened to bring him back to the here and now, a cough. McCoy clenched his eyes shut and concentrated on those violins, the cellos and a that moanful clarinet until he really heard the music in the background again, not at all sure if it was reality or imagination. The soft breeze against the back of his neck resumed after a small pause, and McCoy finally succeeded in convincing his mind to go on dreaming.
He was back in his teens, much more optimistic and naive, much less bitter and experienced. Things were less complicated, the only thing he was interested in was sitting on his parents' porch railing across from him, typing a text about honeybees into that PADD.
Gemma's enthusiasm for biology and her knowledge of scientific methodology had impressed him, he really did want her as a project partner, though he had to admit that he had developed his own secret agenda during their project work. He wanted to get her to like him.
No, that wasn't true. He wanted to make her happy, get her to smile, truly smile at him, a genuine smile that was a sign of trust, friendship and contentment. He wasn't too far away from achieving that goal now. And maybe, just maybe, she would like him enough to hold his hand? Or give him just a slight brush on his lips with that sweet mouth of hers? Maybe this was the night? If only that annoying music would stop!
"Let's go for a walk!" he said, sliding out of the hammock and walking up to stand before her.
He could see her raise an annoyed eyebrow at him, something he found extremely appealing. "I can't type while I'm walking."
He reached for the PADD in her hands, took it from her, gently touching her fingers in the process. "And I can't concentrate with Beethoven fiddling in the background," he complained, looking into her amazing eyes, hoping that he didn't look like a whining little kid at the moment.
"It's Mozart," she corrected him with a superior smile, "and it's not fiddling. That's the 40th symphony in G-minor."
He smiled. She knew everything about biology and classical music! He was impressed. "Please?"
And there it was, Gemma was smiling at him. He could feel a warmth forming in his chest that slowly spread all through his body, until it reached the tips of his toes. They had been so happy then, excited, unsure, but incredibly happy.
As he saw himself and Gemma hand-in-hand, taking a walk around the lake, all of a sudden a strange dread and sadness crept up inside him that didn't originate from his teenage self, but from Doctor McCoy of the USS Enterprise, watching young Lenny. It was as if he was looking at a photograph in his grandma's scrap book, where people were smiling and laughing on the dusty pages – only he knew that these people had turned into dust themselves, eaten by the worms, long ago.
Of course, he knew well what had happened near the lake that night. Those bullies had been his friends once, but when they had picked on Gemma, in his naivité he'd felt the need to protect her, to be her knight in shining armour and avenge her, despite Gemma begging him to leave them alone.
He'd started the fight, which had ended with him and Brad King being hospitalized. Gemma had retreated back into her shell, and had never come out again. That biology project had never been finished and he'd never gotten that kiss.
It didn't need to end like that now, he reminded himself. He was older, more experienced, and wiser.
"Hey Lenny, are you taking that gremlin out on a date?"
He could hear them again, felt Gemma let go of his hand at the voice, and despite himself, he sensed the hot anger burn inside him at that. Before he knew it, he wanted to land his fist in Brad's face again, after all these years, and even with knowing to where all of this would lead to. He turned towards Brad's grinning mug, his arm was raised, his fist balled, and for the fraction of a second he was certain that this was history repeating itself … . Then, a restraining arm over his chest held him back. "Easy, Bones."
"Jim!" he shouted, in surprise.
"Gremlin, gremlin! Don't feed her after midnight, Lenny!"
He shook off Jim's arm, but had found his control again. Before he could give a peppered reply, he heard Spock who had appeared to his right: "Are you comparing Gemma to a mythological creature that was said to have manipulated aircraft engines in your World War II, because she is so talented in mechanics?"
McCoy rolled his eyes. Spock's comment was inappropriate, as always. These guys needed a verbal kick in the ass, not some smartass lecture about mythology.
"What?" the teen looked at Spock, confusedly.
"Do you want him to speak a little slower?" McCoy asked, relishing the fact that Brad King looked like a retard at this very moment. Maybe Spock's strategy hadn't been so bad after all.
The teenager looked at Spock, furrowing his brows.
"And who are you, you pointed-eared gremlin?"
"My name is Spock."
"I just insulted you, Spock. Don't you want to defend yourself?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed boy."
Gemma laughed behind them and McCoy found himself supressing a chuckle, but a quiet sound, resembling a moan. escaped his lips.
"Shh, Bones, it's alright. You're safe," he heard a soft voice from behind, and the pressure on his back grew more intense. Jim was wrapping an arm around his torso, pulling him back against his chest.
"Jim?" he whispered, a bit confused. He'd seen Jim in his dream, standing close beside him, preventing him from making a mistake. But now, … he really was here, in his bed.
"Yeah. You're fine, I'm here," Jim said quietly.
It burst the bubble. McCoy was brought back to reality. The lake, Brad King and Gemma all faded back into his memories of the past, the scrap book was closed and put away on the shelf.
What stayed, were Jim and Spock. Jim was hugging him from behind, and Spock was sitting in his desk chair, intently watching them both.
He attempted to free himself from Jim's embrace. "I see that," he said, and Jim let go.
"You were shouting the captain's name," Spock explained Jim's behaviour calmly.
"I doubt it. I had a dream about my childhood," he mumbled, sitting up in bed. He became aware of the fact that he was still wearing the surgical scrubs he had worn when he'd operated on Jim, which seemed ages ago, now.
"Were we there, too?" Jim asked casually.
McCoy squinted at him suspiciously. Jim had used his most innocent voice, which meant that he was up to something. He wanted to psychoanalyze him, probably.
"I had a happy childhood. Which means neither of you could have been there," he said sarcastically, and got his feet out of the bed. He still wore his boots, he noticed.
Geez, they fussed all over me, and then they let me go to sleep in my clothes and boots?
"Did you have a friend called Jim in your childhood, as well?" Spock was determined to get to the bottom of this.
"Yes," he curtly replied, which wasn't even a lie. He got up, half expecting to become dizzy, but it didn't happen. Satisfied, he looked down at Jim, then Spock. "Well, I have work to do. When you're finished here, Spock, don't forget to bring Jim to sickbay for a check-up!"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spock raise an eyebrow at him, so he hurried to get out before he was drawn into a discussion about his well-being, his need for something to eat, a shower, or another mind meld. He'd definitely had too many of those, lately.
He almost ran through the corridors until he reached sickbay, then hesitated just a moment, before rushing in. Noting briefly that no one was currently there, he swiflty slipped into his office and let himself fall into his chair.
His two friends were invading too much of his personal space. He decided. What were they doing in his childhood memories? It weren't memories, it was a strange dream, an attempt to fix something in your past, he reminded himself.
What's done is done. And if, just supposedly if, that really was possible, why would he need Jim and Spock to help him? Shouldn't it have been easy to not make the same mistake again? He stared off into the space of his office. Even in his dream he'd been about to break Brad King's nose again. Why? He wasn't that rash anymore, if anything, then he would have to hold Jim back from a fist fight, not the other way around, wouldn't he?
And Spock, … he certainly didn't need Spock to help him insult a teenager. He was actually famous for his quick wit. Everyone on the Enterprise knew he never refused to engage in an argument with Sp … .
Aww, hell. "I don't need those two to define myself," he said to his monitor. But you still need them, a voice in his head said back.
"Osborne to sickbay," the intercomm squawked and ended his musings. It was a welcome distraction. "McCoy here."
"Doctor McCoy, … our Romulan passenger needs a doctor," the security officer said.
McCoy sighed. He prided himself in not making housecalls. He was a doctor and not some kind of gofer service boy. However, that Romulan was in the brig, and security probably wasn't willing to let her out.
"What's wrong?" he asked, trying to determine what he needed to carry.
"She appears to be having ... a fever," the lieutenant replied, unsure.
McCoy rolled his eyes. "I didn't ask for a diagnosis, I just want to know why you think she needs a doctor."
He heard some shouting in the background, but couldn't make out the words. Then: "Well. doctor, she says, she isn't sick, only has an urgent request to make of you personally. But honestly, she isn't quite herself," Osborne explained, then chuckled, "I'd say, it's rabies."
He heard Velal swear at Osborne who shouted back an insult, something about her ears. It made McCoy angry for some reason. "Back off, lieutenant!" he barked. Then, more controlled: "I'm on my way."
He grabbed a standard medkit and left his office, but a vague feeling in his gut told him that Velal wanted not his services as a doctor, but something completely different.