Title: To the gallows-foot — and after
Author: hexicode aka illman
Fandom/pairing (if appropriate): Star Trek: TOS, Kirk/McCoy
Summary: Jim wouldn't lose his best friend to this...this quirk of Vulcan biology. He simply couldn't. Alternate ending to the TOS episode 'Amok Time'.
Rating: R (descriptions of violence, adult issues)
Warnings: violence, mentions of non-con (not graphically described)
Disclaimers: The characters and settings aren't mine. No profit is being made, this is for entertainment only.
A/N: I'm sure it's been done before (what hasn't?), but I liked this idea too much not to give it a whirl. Also, I seem to be incapable of writing romance that is actually romantic and not an angstfest.
oOo
The ancient Vulcan sun was burning down on the small group gathered at the ritual site. Even though physically at relative rest, Dr. McCoy could feel the combined effects of the sweltering heat and the low-oxygen atmosphere. He was frankly surprised that Jim was still on his feet, although the adrenaline rush cased by the fact that he was currently engaged in a fight to the death with his first officer might have something to do with it. But even adrenaline and survival instinct would only last for so long before his body succumbed to the harsh conditions and the physical exertion. He was going to weaken and collapse eventually and when that happened, Spock was going to kill him, given his present state of mind. Unless, of course, McCoy managed to put a stop to it somehow, preferably before either one of them died. All he could do was stand by and watch, utterly powerless to do anything to stop the fight. Though it was a natural if unfortunate part of his chosen profession that sometimes all he could do was sit by and watch a patient die, he had never felt quite as helpless as he felt now. If only...if only there was a way out of this mess without anyone having to die. Suddenly, McCoy had an idea. Granted, it was a desperate one, more of a gamble than anything else, but there was a chance that it just might work. He did a quick mental inventory of his medical kit. Yes, he had what he needed. A neural paralyzing agent. If he could somehow inject Jim with it, once it took effect, he would indeed appear dead to the observer without actually killing him. At least not immediately. He wouldn't have much time to administer the antidote, but it was the only way out. Now, all he needed was an opportunity to administer the drug without arousing suspicion.
oOo
His plan was soon in motion. Under the guise of giving Jim a tri-ox compound to help him breathe in the thin atmosphere, he had injected him with a dose of a potent neural paralyzing agent. Unfortunately, there had been no way to let Jim know what he was doing. Under ordinary circumstances, he would hate to put his friend through this without at least some warning, but their situation was far from ordinary. With the effects of the harsh environment and the physical exertion from the fight, the drug would kick in soon. He could only hope that Spock wouldn't actually kill Jim before he had a chance to intervene. He could already see Jim weakening. Any moment now, he would lose all control over his body and collapse. Moments later, Jim was lying still in the sand. Now McCoy had to play his part.
oOo
Jim was the sole focus of McCoy's attention as he fought to save the man's life. Although it had taken less than three minutes for the medical team to arrive in the transporter room and for them to transfer Jim to sickbay, it had seemed like an eternity to McCoy. An eternity during which all he had been able to do was to watch his friend slip away from him. The instruments in sickbay had only been able to confirm what the tricorder had already indicated – Jim was dying. The knowledge that it was his doing only spurred him on to fight harder for his patient's life. He hadn't taken his eyes of the biobed readings for a moment, not even to explain to Nurse Chapel what had happened. To her credit, she hadn't asked any questions, and simply handed him whatever he called for, no doubt reserving her questions for when the urgency of the situation had lessened – one way or another. Presently, she handed McCoy a cardiac stimulator unit which he attached to Jim's chest and activated. The relief was palatable when, after careful adjustments of the unit, the biobed readings were slowly creeping back into the normal range.
"Would you please see if we still have some phenerazine? He might need another dose later on and we're all out up here," McCoy asked Chapel, not allowing himself a moment's pause. Only when the nurse had disappeared from sickbay, he breathed a minute sigh of relief. He might have won the battle, but the war was far from over yet. It was yet to be seen whether there had been any damage to Jim's heart or brain as a result of the neural paralyser and the delay in administering the antidote. The next few hours would be telling. McCoy would never be able to forgive himself if his friend suffered permanent injury as a result of his actions.
"Have you found any? If not we'll need to start synthesizing more immediately." McCoy said, addressing Chapel, as he heard the whoosh of the sickbay doors opening.
"Doctor?" The voice that replied was clearly not Nurse Chapel's. Turning around, McCoy found himself face to face with Spock.
"Spock? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be on Vulcan with...what's-her-name?" McCoy babbled, taken by surprise by the Vulcan's sudden appearance. He would have thought even a Vulcan wedding would take longer than this. Spock did not reply, but instead took several steps towards McCoy. However, he was not looking at the doctor. Following the other man's eyes, McCoy saw that it was the captain that had caught Spock's attention.
"I do not understand. I thought..." Spock said in surprise, trailing off in mid-sentence. For once, he seemed lost for words. On every other day, McCoy would have mentally congratulated himself for having left Spock literally speechless, but right now; all he felt was worry for Jim.
"Instead of the tri-ox compound, I injected him with a neural paralyser, to simulate death."
"A most ingenious plan, doctor," Spock replied, having once again returned to his usual calm and detached manner.
"He's not out of the woods yet," McCoy said, his worry replaced by sudden anger.
"I shall leave you to your patient, then," Spock replied and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute, Spock. I'd like to take some readings of you, while you're here. Just to make sure..."
"That will not be necessary." Spock replied without turning to face McCoy. The calm in his voice was barely covering the tension that appeared to suddenly radiate from his body.
"As this ship's physician, I say it is," McCoy returned angrily, not in the mood to deal with wounded Vulcan pride or whatever this was. Spock ignored him and continued to make for the door. In a quick movement, McCoy caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm. Before he could say anything however, Spock's fist made contact with his jaw. The blow wasn't violent enough the break bone. It was more like sheer shock that made him let go of Spock and tumbled to the floor.
"Doctor, it is imperative that you let me go."
"Oh, no it isn't. You're still suffering from this whole blood fever thing, aren't you?" McCoy got back to his feet.
"You are correct, doctor." Spock conceded. "And it is for this reason that I must leave. I cannot stay on board.
"Where are you going to go? You'll die no matter where you go."
"I am prepared for that." Spock replied and McCoy could tell that his control was threadbare at best.
In less than a second, McCoy made up his mind for the second time that day and gave the command for the computer to lock the sickbay doors in his order. Aside from him, only the captain could unlock them now.
"I must ask you to unlock the doors at once."
"Not going to happen." McCoy said, shaking his head. That was all that was needed to shatter Spock's fragile control and with an almost primal yell, he lunged at McCoy, slamming him against the wall with such force that McCoy blacked out for a moment. The next thing he was aware of was being bodily dragged across sickbay and towards his office. He tried to protest, but Spock's elbow around his throat made speech impossible. Even breathing was starting to get difficult as the man's hold on him tightened. McCoy could feel his body's hunger for air growing even as he feeble tried to dislodge the iron grip. Suddenly, as his vision was starting to grey, the grip was relinquished. He barely had time to suck in a greedy breath of air when he was violent slammed into something – probably his desk. He felt at least one rib crack under the impact. Something on the desk shattered possible a PADD that he'd left there and he could feel shards digging into his back, drawing blood. Spock's hands closed around his throat, throttling him before he even had a chance to recover the impact. Desperation was giving him strength as he tried to knee Spock into the groin, in the hopes that this was as painful for a half-Vulcan as it was for a human. However all the manoeuvre seemed to accomplish was the make Spock even more furious. He bodily lifted McCoy from the table and proceeded to slam him back down into it with full force. The last thing McCoy was aware of was the shrill sound of biobed alarms before pain exploded in his head and he knew nothing more.
oOo
The first sensation Jim became aware of was that of a pleasant coolness enveloping him. So pleasant was the change from the punishing heat that for a long moment, just savouring the sensation was enough. It was with considerable surprised that he slowly returned to a more complete awareness of himself and his surroundings. His memory was a little fuzzy on the details at the moment, but he clearly recalled the fight to death that he and Spock had been embroiled in, as well as the events that had led up to it. If he was here, in sickbay aboard the Enterprise, did that mean that Spock was dead? That seemed unlikely since as far as he could recall, he had not had the upper hand in their combat. The memories were filtering back to him now: while he hadn't exactly had the upper hand, he had been holding as his own, until, rather suddenly, his body had ceased obeying him. It had been rather strange, but within seconds, he had felt himself collapse into the sand. Prepared for Spock to choke him to death, he had instead heard Bones pronounce him dead. That didn't make any sense. He wouldn't make a mistake like that. It just wasn't possible. Thoroughly confused, Jim opened his eyes, indeed finding himself in sickbay as he had already suspected. He made to push himself up and was in for another surprise when he found himself weakened to the point where he could hardly sit up. He had lost his shirt at some point and there was an unhealed gash right across his chest. It wasn't deep, nor did it still bleed, but he was rather astounded that Bones hadn't fixed it. Where was Bones' anyways? It wasn't like him to slink off when one of the crew was injured. Maybe Spock...? But even if some emergency had forced Bones to leave sickbay, Jim would expect one of the nurses or other medics to be around and fussing over him. He had been so focussed on figuring out what had happened, that only now that he had turned his attention outward, that he became aware of muffled noises coming, if he wasn't completely mistaken from the direction of Bones' office. There was shuffling, then what sounded like something shattering, followed by a series of groans and heavy thumps. It sounded like a fight, if he ever heard one. Cursing the weakness of his limbs, he dragged his legs over the edge of the bed and proceeded to lower himself to his feet. Although he was still bracing himself on the bed, he nearly fell to the floor when his legs threatened to give way under him. The noise had quietened somewhat, but he could still hear movement coming from Bones' office. Using the wall for support and for once not caring about the show of weakness in the least, he made his way towards the office, shuffling as fast as he could. It seemed to take forever to cross the room and by the time he stood in front of the closed office doors, sweat was pouring down his back and his heart was racing in his chest.
"Bones? You in there?" he called out, but received no response. He triggered the doors with only a moment's hesitation. They slid open promptly and Jim froze at the sight that greeted him. It looked like a tornado had whirled through the small space, leaving only destruction in its wake. Shard of glass and wood were everywhere as were smears of bright red blood. In the midst of it all were Bones and Spock. They were...Jim couldn't believe his eyes at first. McCoy seemed unconscious and was slumped face-forward over his desk. He was bloodied all over; the back of his uniform was soaked with blood. Red blood – so it wasn't Spock, it had to be his. As for Spock, he appeared to be...fucking the doctor. That was the only word apt to describe what he was seeing and yet it appeared unbelievable in the extreme. Maybe this was some sort of hallucination and he was really unconscious on a biobed? The thought had no sooner entered his mind when Spock suddenly groaned and staggered backwards until he made contact with the wall behind him. He was covered in blood, hair ruffled and eyes wild. Although he was staring straight at Jim, he didn't seem to be aware of his captain's presence. Jim's eyes wandered from Spock to Bones who had slid onto the floor in a motionless heap. Jim was only jolted from his state of shock when Spock suddenly addressed him.
"Captain, would you please unlock the sickbay doors?" When Jim didn't answer immediately, Spock went on, "Dr. McCoy used his medical override, only the captain can countermand it and it is imperative you summon medical assistance for the doctor immediately." The urgency in Spock's voice finally got through to him and pushing aside the whirlwind of questions in his mind, he did as Spock had asked.
oOo
Two days later, Jim was back on duty. He still felt a little weak and tired more easily than usual, but he had insisted until Dr. M'Benga had finally relented and certified him fit for duty. Still, Jim was relieved when his first shift back on duty was finally over. Leaving the bridge, he headed towards the turbo lift, thinking back over the last forty-eight hours. While not quite the worst of his life, they were among the worst since he had taken command of the Enterprise. While T'Pau had apparently used her influence to square their detour to Vulcan with Starfleet Command, the repercussions of their trip weighed far more heavily on his mind and conscience than any reprimand ever could. He had managed to lose not only his first officer and ship's surgeon, but also his two closest friends. It was his duty to protect his crew and he had failed them miserably. Granted, Spock was alive and according to every test that M'Benga had run, back to his normal self, but his career in Starfleet was no doubt over. Or at least it would be as soon as Jim filed an official report with Starfleet Command to apprise them of what had happened. He had so far avoided writing up the 'incident', but he couldn't wait forever. He told himself that he was just waiting for Bones to recover to the point where he could give a statement as to his version of the events, but the truth was that he already knew very well what had happened in sickbay between Spock and Bones. Spock had submitted a full report, detailing his actions in excruciating detail. The report could hardly be more damning of he had tried. Jim didn't doubt that it was the truth and M'Benga had no idea when or even if Bones would regain consciousness. Even so, the doctor had cautioned him that with the severe head injuries his friend had suffered, it would be a miracle if he recalled what had happened. So there really was no reason why he shouldn't file that report right now, as soon as he got to his quarters. It was only then that he noticed that he wasn't even headed towards his quarters, but instead well on the way to sickbay. It wouldn't hurt to get a quick update on Bones, he thought, although both his own hopes and Dr. M'Benga's confidence were dwindling rapidly. He entered sickbay. The doctor was nowhere to be seen for the moment, so Jim made his way over the where Bones was lying unconscious on a biobed. He looked just like he had the previous day and the day before that save that the bruises on his face and around his throat were gradually changing in colour from a purplish blue to a mottled green and yellow. Jim was just about to go look for Dr. M'Benga when he heard a soft groan coming from the direction of the biobed.
"Bones?" Jim asked, not sure whether he could believe his ears. He stepped closer and, glancing at the readings above, repeated his friend's nickname. He was rewarded with another weak groan and it looked like Bones was trying to open his eyes.
"Bones, can you hear me?" Jim asked anxiously and put a hand on the supine man's shoulder. The touch had been meant to be reassuring, but the moment Jim's hand made contact with Bones, he shrank away and began shaking his head, as if in pain. His mouth was now moving, but he wasn't making any sound. Growing increasingly concerned, Jim called out for M'Benga, hoping that his loud voice wouldn't frighten Bones even more, but he didn't dare leave his friend's side.
"It's all right, you're in sickbay, you're safe now." Jim said softly, trying to get through to Bones and to reassure him as he grew increasingly restless.
When the injured man's eyes finally fluttered open, the rush of relief that flooded through Jim was almost dizzying. It only lasted a few moments however. There was something wrong with the way Bones was staring at him. His stare was vacant, devoid of any emotion or recognition. Where was that damn doctor, Jim cursed mentally and turned his head searchingly. Finally, M'Benga emerged from Bones' office.
"What seem to be the matter, captain?"
"It's Dr. McCoy. I think he's awake, but..." Jim trailed off, unsure how to put into the words that terrible feeling that had taken hold of his insides. To his credit, M'Benga didn't solicit further explanations, but gently pushed past Jim to McCoy's side to study the biobed readings. Jim watched the man frown, then address Bones.
"Doctor McCoy? Can you hear me?" As before, Bones showed no sign of comprehension or even of being aware of his surroundings at all. M'Benga quickly hurried away, only to grab a scanner from a nearby table and then returned.
"What's wrong with him?" Jim demanded, his voice coming out much harsher than he'd intended.
"I don't know yet, I'll have to do a more detailed examination. If you would kindly wait in Dr. McCoy's office. I'll be with you as soon as I'm done here."
Not liking the sound of that in the least, but understanding that he would only be in the way, Jim nodded and withdrew.
oOo
McCoy's office betrayed no sign of the gruesome events that had taken place there only two days before. The maintenance people had done excellent work in clearing up both the debris and removing the blood stains. The broken equipment and furniture had been removed and for the most part replaced as well. Still, just stepping into this room made Jim feel uneasy. The memories of what he had become witness to returned with a vengeance. He would never be able to erase that moment from his memory. All he could hope to do was bury it. Part of him hoped that Bones would have no memory of what had happened to him. Sure, there were counsellors and therapists nowadays, but still, if he remembered he might as well find it impossible to stay here on the Enterprise, working in sickbay and using the very room where he had been assaulted as his office on a daily basis. There might be no way he could keep Spock on the ship, but part of him had been hoping against hope that he wouldn't lose his best friend as well to this...this quirk of Vulcan biology. But he was getting ahead of himself there, he reminded himself. First, Bones had to be all right. Because, while Jim could live with Bones transferring of the Enterprise, he wasn't so sure he could deal with Bones being permanently disabled in some way. In a way, this would be even worse than losing his brother. It was rare that he admitted it, even to himself in the privacy of his own thoughts, but his feelings for Bones went beyond friendship. He made carefully sure Bones never so much as suspected as the doctor was far too much of a ladies' man to return his feelings and Jim valued their friendship far too much to risk seeing it destroyed.
It was the sound of M'Benga clearing his throat that finally broke Jim from his reverie.
"How is he?" he demanded.
"As far as my instruments are able to determine, he is healing just as he should be. All his readings are within normal parameters."
"If it's so, then why is he...?" Jim struggled to find the right word.
"There is no physiological reason for Dr. McCoy's lack of responsiveness."
Jim mulled that statement over in his mind for a moment. "No physiological reason. It is possible that this is psychological, then?"
"It's a possibility, I suppose," M'Benga said, spreading his hands. He didn't sound convinced. "I will run further tests, of course."
"Is there anything you can do for him in the meantime?" Jim was clutching at straws. It couldn't be that with all their knowledge and technological advances, there was nothing that could be done for Bones.
"Without knowing what's wrong with Dr. McCoy, I can't recommend any specific course of treatment. All I can suggest is that his you and his other friends try to talk to him, reassure him. It can't hurt in any case."
"Thank you, doctor. You will of course keep me apprised of any developments." Jim said stiffly, trying to hide his disappointment and fear. "I'll be in my quarters." Although it hurt to just leave Bones like that, but he didn't trust himself to keep a grip on his emotions if he stayed. It wouldn't do for the crew to see their captain fall apart.
oOo
Jim wearily rubbed the back of his neck. The tension lodged there didn't ever seem to be going away these days. Stifling a yawn, he switched off the screen of the terminal in front of him. No wonder he was tired, he thought as he glanced at the chronometer on the desk. It was well into the early hours of the morning according to the onboard clock, but the prospect of sleep seemed only to grow more distant as time passed. In less than six standard hours, they were scheduled to rendezvous with Starbase 67. Less than six hours until he had to hand over Bones to the Starbase CMO from where he was scheduled to be transferred back to Earth for evaluation and treatment. Jim had fought tooth and nail against those orders, but in the end, he had had no choice but to give in and order a course of the Starbase to be laid in. He wouldn't resent the prospect of having to abandon Bones so much if he believed that there was a genuine chance that Bones could be helped on Earth. That he would get better. But despite Dr. M'Benga's tireless efforts, they still knew nothing more about the cause of Bones' condition than they had ten days ago, when Bones had regained consciousness in sickbay. All the tests had come back normal and all their attempts to coax Bones out of whatever place his personality had retreated to had been met with failure. Sure, he was able to eat and use the bathroom when prompted to do so, but other than that, he spent his waking hours sitting motionless and staring into space without betraying any sign that he was aware of his environment. Jim had Bones transferred back to his quarters, hoping that familiar surroundings would help, but they had failed to produce any effect. As for himself, he had practically moved into the doctor's quarters, spending all his off-duty time with Bones. Other members of the crew had spent time talking to Bones as well and a schedule had been worked out so that there would always be someone with him.
Maybe it was for the best, Jim thought. A starship was no place for a man in Bones' condition. The past week had been fairly quiet as they were currently engaged in a routine mapping survey for some previously unknown systems, but aboard the Enterprise, things never stayed quiet for long. Eventually they would be faced with a crisis of some sort and what of Bones' then? No, no matter how much he loathed abandoning Bones to a bunch of strangers, it wouldn't be right to keep him on board purely for selfish motives. If there was even the smallest chance that Starfleet Medical would come up with an explanation for Bones' condition and a possible treatment, he owed it to Bones to give him that chance.
Stretching out his limbs, Jim looked over to the bed were Bones was sleeping peacefully. Watching him like that, he could almost convince himself that there was nothing wrong with his friend, that he was still Bones and not just an empty shell.
The door chime rang out.
"Come in," Jim said, wondering who it could possibly be at this hour.
He heard the whoosh as the door opened and turned his head. Spock, the person he'd least expected to see was standing just outside the door. Immediately, Jim felt anger rise up inside of him, coupled with the urge to blame this whole mess on Spock, no matter how irrational that might be. He took a sharp breath to reign in his emotions and walked over where Spock was standing.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked rather formally, not trusting himself to keep his emotions in check otherwise.
"I have come to offer my assistance," Spock said. His voice was calm, but his posture with his hand together behind his back spoke of tension.
"I think you have helped quite enough!" The angry words left Jim's mouth before he could stop himself. Before he had a chance to apologize however, Spock went on.
"I am aware of the orders concerning Dr. McCoy as well as your resistance to carrying out those orders. After doing an extensive search of Vulcan records, I have come to form a hypothesis as to the cause of Dr. McCoy's condition. If that hypothesis is correct, it is possible that I may be able to help him."
Jim felt a flicker if hope at hearing Spock's words, but he quashed it immediately. The last he needed now was more false hope. "According to your hypothesis, what is wrong with Bones?"
Spock gave a surreptitious glance around himself. "I believe this would be better discussed in private," he then remarked.
Jim motioned for him to come in and triggered to the door to close behind them.
Spock waited for a moment, his gaze wandering over the room, before he finally spoke: "As you might remember from what I have told you, intimate relationships among my people go beyond the purely physical. A husband and wife also share a connection on the psychic level."
So far, Spock wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. "To the point please, Spock."
"As you wish, captain. It is my hypothesis that during my assault on Dr. McCoy, I subconsciously attempted to form a psychic bond between the two of us."
"You did what!" Jim exclaimed, unable to control his anger. To think that Spock had no only violated Bones physically, now he was learning that he had been assaulted on a mental level as well.
"I can assure you, it was not done deliberately and I am prepared to surrender to the authorities and assume responsibility for my actions. However, the reason that I came here tonight was to inform you that based on my hypothesis, I believe that Dr. McCoy has suffered a severe psychic shock."
Jim swallowed hard. As angry as he was at Spock, his priority had to be Bones. He needed him to keep a clear head. "You said there was a way to help Bones?"
"There is indeed. I suggest a mind-meld. At the very least, it will enable us to know the extent of the damage and also, if possible allow me to attempt to repair it."
"That means you'll have to get inside his head? Again?" Jim asked.
"Precisely." Spock replied solemnly. Jim now understood why Spock hadn't suggested this earlier. Jim remained silently for a while, turning over the proposition in his head. As much as he wanted Bones to recover from this psychic shock or whatever it was, the doctor was in no position to give his consent to the treatment. To allow Spock to invade his mind without consent was not only against Federation laws, but the very thought of doing that to Bones made Jim feel sick. Still, he needed all the facts before he could make a decision.
"What exactly are the risks of performing a mind-meld on Bones?"
Spock appeared to consider this. "It is quite likely that he will retreat even further within his mind. And there is of course no guarantee that I would be able to repair the damage already done to his mind. Even if I were to be successful, Dr. McCoy has to want to return and I fear I might not be the right person to convince him of that."
"That's an understatement, Spock," Jim blurted out. "No offense," he quickly amended.
"None taken. What is your decision, captain?"
"Considering the risks and what I believe Bones would want me to do, I'm afraid I can't let you do this. I appreciate you telling me though. I will forward your theory to Starfleet Medical, maybe they can work something out."
"That is possible. They will have to act fast though. The longer Dr. McCoy remains in his present condition the less likely it is that he will ever recover."
There was a long silence between the two men, before Spock finally turned to leave. "For what it is worth, I am truly sorry for what happened between Dr. McCoy and myself." For a moment, it seemed like Spock was going to say something else, before he walked back to the door.
"Wait!" Jim called out.
"Are you quite certain that there is no other way to help him?" Jim wasn't sure what made him ask that question, but he had a sudden feeling that there was something Spock wasn't telling him.
Spock paused and turned back to face him. "There is indeed one other possibility. Its chances of success are rather slim and it would carry great risk, but I could facilitate a mind meld between you and Dr. McCoy."
"Tell me more." Jim urged.
"I would in essence be projecting your consciousness into his mind, with myself acting solely as a conduit. I must warn you however, that doing so would expose you to great risk."
"What risk? What is the worst that could happen to me?"
"You could become trapped in Dr. McCoy's mind."
"I'll do it," Jim said. No matter what the risks where, he knew he had to do this. If he didn't, he would never forgive himself. "Just tell me what I need to do."
"It is not that simple, I'm afraid. I have no idea in what way your mind will process the experience. Once inside Dr. McCoy's mind, you will be on your own. I will not be able to help you."
That didn't exactly sound encouraging, but Jim had made the decision and wasn't going to back out now.
"I also suggest that Dr. M'Benga monitor both you and Dr. McCoy for the duration. That will allow him to intervene should it be necessary."
Jim nodded to indicate his consent.
oOo
Despite the agreement of the two principal parties concerned, it still took a good two standard hours before Spock's proposal was finally under way, for Dr. M'Benga had insisted on first questioning Spock at length and then on a long lecture directed at Jim, informing him once again of the risks he had already agreed he would take. Jim would be lying if he claimed to feel particularly confident by the time he was finally stretched out on a biobed and felt the sting of hypospray containing a mild tranquilizer being emptied into his arm. The drug took hold almost immediately and he could feel his anxiety dropping away as he focussed on the rhythm on his breathing as he had been instructed to do. The feeling as Spock's warm fingers gently touching his face was the last thing he was aware of before a wave of disorientation swept over him. For a period of time that might have lasted mere seconds or many minutes, Jim didn't where he was or what was happening. Suddenly however, with a dizzying abruptness, he found himself standing in a corridor. It looked much like the interior of the Enterprise, yet it was devoid of any colour, like the video recordings of centuries ago that they had studied in history class at the academy. It was quieter than the real thing, too. Jim could just about pick up the faint hum of the ship's engines, but that was all he could hear. Gone was the normal potpourri of sounds that accompanied every moment on board the Enterprise.
oOo
Lucky for Jim, the Enterprise in Bones' mind had the same layout as the one in real life whose layout he was intimately familiar with, otherwise he'd be hopelessly lost be now. As there had been nothing in that first corridor which would have given him any clue as to what to do next, Jim had decided to head to sickbay. He couldn't really explain it, but he had a feeling that sickbay would be where he would find Bones and that seemed as a good a place to start as any. Maybe he could tell Jim what he needed to do. Clinging to that thought, Jim rounded the last corner and then entered sickbay. On the entire trip which had spanned almost the entire length of the ship, he had not encountered a single crewmember. Sickbay seemed deserted as well, but as he came closer to the doctor's office, another sounds joined the quiet background hum. Jim couldn't make it out at first, but as he got closer, it sounded almost like someone was crying, inside the office. Not sure what to expect, Bones pressed the door chime and waited for an answer.
"Bones?" he called out. "Bones, are you in there?"
There was no answer. Hoping that the Enterprise metaphor would also extent to his command codes, he punched in his override code. The doors promptly slid open. The scene inside was the same as the one he had encountered in the real world, when he'd found Bones and Spock in the office. There were some subtle differences though, he remarked at second glance. Just as the corridors around him had been colourless, so was the interior of the office, save for the blood that seemed to cling to ever surface – it was a deep crimson colour. The sound of hitching breaths was more distinct now and steeling himself for what was to come, Jim stepped inside. He rounded the table and that was when he found Bones. The doctor sat pressed into the far corner of the room, curled into as small a shape as possible.
"Bones?" Jim asked quietly, noting in alarm that the colourlessness of the room extended to Bones as well. His hair was much fainter shade of brown than usual and his uniform shirt bore only the faintest trace of its usual blue colour. His words had an immediate effect, albeit not exactly the one he had hoped for - Bones fell completely silent and tried to make himself even smaller.
Not knowing what else to do, Jim made to reach out and touch Bones, when suddenly the room rocked as if the ship had been hit by something. At the same instant, a sharp pain shot up Jim's spine, blossoming behind his eyes. For a moment, it was all he could perceive, his senses consumed by raw pain. It only lasted for a second, and he quickly recovered, but somehow he knew that it was a sign that he was running out of time. Spock had warned him that he could only keep up the meld safely for a short period of time. Jim had no idea how much time had passed in the real world, but if what was happening to him was any indication, they couldn't have much longer. With renewed determination he reached out and laid a gentle hand on Bones' shoulder. It tore at his heart to feel Bones recoil from the touch, but before he had a chance to open his mouth and reassure his friend, the room shook again, more violently this time. The pain was worse, too and Jim cried out as it exploded in his head. This time, it didn't fade nearly as quickly and he spent precious second just lying on the floor, trying to breathe. It was only the fear for Bones that spurned him on and he struggled to get to his feet. It was no use. He had barely succeeded in pushing himself up on his elbows when the next attack came. He was prepared for the pain this time, but he still screamed as it hit. It felt like his nerve endings were on fire. The pain refused to relent, leaving him lying on the floor, unable to move and barely able to draw breath. Through tearing eyes, Jim saw that Bones had raised his head and was now staring at him intently.
"Bones! Please, help me up!" Jim cried out in between ragged breaths.
Bones just kept watching him. "Come on, you're the doctor here. Help me up! We need to get out of here. Now!" Jim pleaded, feeling his strength waning. The room rocked once again, more violently than ever before. The pain was so intense this time round, Jim didn't even have the strength to scream and he was almost grateful when everything around him began to fade into darkness. But just as he was about to surrender to oblivion, he felt his body being shaken violently. Forcing his eyes to open, he found himself face to face with Bones who was leaning over him. Had he not been in so much pain, Jim would have delighted in seeing the vacant look in his friend's eyes gone, even if at the moment, it was replaced by worry. Jim opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by Bones.
"Don't talk. Just stay still, okay?"
"Bones! We...we need..." Jim struggled to form the words. He tried to sit up, but Bones held him down.
"Are you crazy trying to move around like that?" Bones yelled, sounding pretty much like usual, albeit rather frantic. "What part of stay still didn't you understand?"
"No," Jim tried again. "Need out. Danger," he gasped.
Bones looked at him questioningly.
"Trust me." Jim whispered.
Bones nodded. It took considerable effort on both their parts, but eventually, they managed to get to their feet. Bones was supporting the majority of Jim's weight. Unable to speak any longer, Jim weakly gestured for the door. Bones nodded again and together, they stumbled towards it. The door slid open, but instead of sickbay, beyond it lay nothing but darkness.
Bones shrank back. "We can't go out there!" he protested.
Jim pulling together the last remnants of his strength grabbed Bones and pulled them both forwards into the waiting blackness.
oOo
McCoy was drifting. He had the impression that he had been drifting for some time but he neither knew nor cared how long it had been. Being adrift was pleasant and painless and he fully intended to stay that way. Occasionally, he was able to hear fragments of sentences or, more frequently, disjointed words, but they always seemed like they were very far away. Sometimes, he thought he even heard Jim, even though that couldn't possibly be as he knew that Jim is dead. Killed because his plan had failed. He didn't like thinking about that, so he did his best not to and it seemed to be working as the voices were getting more and more distant. He was glad that they were going away. The voices that much he knew, came from a painful place, a place that he wanted nothing to do with anymore.
He was happy and content to just drift along, until suddenly, something changed. He could feel it. Something or someone was there. For the first time in a long time, McCoy felt afraid.
oOo
McCoy woke with a start. He felt like he had just woken from a nightmare, the last remnants of the dream slipping away as he tried to recall what he dreamt about. Whatever it was, it had left him vaguely unsettled, even as he glanced around to find himself to sickbay, albeit as a patient from the looks of it. With that realization, memory returned with a vengeance. He recalled everything. His plan to fake Jim's death that had gone so horribly wrong, the realization that whatever happened on Vulcan after he and Jim transported back up to the Enterprise didn't give Spock what he needed to recover from the blood fever and finally his own decision to put on an end to it right there, before any more people were hurt. The memories after this were much fuzzier. All he recalled was Spock attacking him, but that was all.
Satisfied with his mental inventory, he turned his attention to his body. He was surprise to find everything in working order and not even a trace of pain remaining. He would have thought that a Vulcan in the throes of blood fever would do much more damage. That led him onto an unpleasant train of thought. If he was still alive, what had happened to Spock? Was he still alive? What about Jim? He looked up to see if he was indeed the only patient in sickbay at the moment, when he spotted Nurse Chapel standing across the room, watching him silently. There was something strange in the way she was looking at him, almost as if he was some sort of dangerous experiment that might go bad at any moment. Before he had a chance to say anything, she had disappeared though. Seconds later, she returned with Dr. M'Benga in tow. They were talking softly, but McCoy could hear Chapel saying something about 'it not having worked'. Slightly alarmed now, McCoy watched M'Benga approach him slowly, the same caution displaying in his movements that he had detected in Chapel's glance.
"Dr. McCoy?" he asked more softly than McCoy would have given the man credit for
"Yes," he replied curtly before snapping, "what on Earth is going on here?"
At those words, twin grins spread over Chapels and M'Benga's faces, but neither of them answered. Feeling both anxious and impatient, McCoy repeated his question. "What is going on here?"
"That's a rather long story." M'Benga finally replied. "Let me just make sure that you're okay and I'll fill you in."
There was not much McCoy could say to that and he patiently waited for the doctor to examine the biobed readings. "What is the last thing you remember?" M'Benga asked while running a scanner over him. His tone was casual enough, but there was a tension in it that made McCoy's earlier anxiety flare up again.
"I was here in sickbay. Spock attacked me." McCoy answered succinctly, watching the reaction of his colleagues carefully. They seemed rather concerned which fuelled his unease. "Spock. Where is..." McCoy started, but M'Benga was quick to cut him off.
"It's all right, Dr. McCoy," he answered soothingly. "You're safe here." At any other time, he would have been pleased to see that Dr. M'Benga was working on his bedside manner, but right now, the reply only served to puzzle him further.
"So he is alive?"
M'Benga and Chapel exchanged a confused look. "Of course. Mr. Spock is quite all right." The doctor answered.
"It's you we were all worried about, doctor," Chapel added.
"How bad was it?" McCoy asked with some trepidation.
To M'Benga's credit he didn't mince words, but launched straight into an account of the damage McCoy had suffered. Basically, it amounted to him being beaten to within an inch of his life. This did not surprise McCoy, as he had been well aware of the risks when he'd locked himself and Spock in sickbay. Frankly, he was surprised that he had survived at all. What did surprise him even more is the lack of pain he was experiencing. After suffering injuries that grave, he'd expected to be in quite some pain for a few days even with state of the art painkillers.
"How long has it been?" he asked, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably. There was something M'Benga wasn't telling him, he's sure of it.
Again, a concerned look passed between Chapel and M'Benga. "It's been eleven days since you were attacked," M'Benga finally answered, not meeting his eyes.
McCoy stared at him incredulous. Even with the injuries he suffered, eleven days was far too long to spend unconscious. Before he could make up his mind, M'Benga held out a PADD to him.
"Your medical file," he explained. "I think you ought to read it."
McCoy nodded, took the PADD and began to read.
oOo
Dozens of questions were swirling through McCoy's mind once he finished reading the entries of the last eleven days in his medical record. It was now clear to him that M'Benga's earlier account of his injuries had contained quite a few understatements about just how close a call it had been. He was even more puzzled when it came to the entries of the last two days and the vague description of what appeared to be some form of Vulcan psychic healing. However, he pushed that issue aside for the moment, unable as well as unwilling to deal with it until he had an answer to a much more burning question.
"The captain? He's still alive, then?" he asked.
M'Benga nodded. "For the moment, yes. But to be honest, I don't know how much longer we can keep him that way."
"There must be something we can do!" McCoy exclaimed, not caring about keeping up appearances anymore.
"According to all the tests I have run, there is nothing physically wrong with him that would explain why his body is slowly failing."
McCoy considered this for a moment. There was something tugging at the edge of his consciousness that he couldn't quite identify. Whatever it was, somehow he knew that it was important. It was something to do with Spock of all people, but the more he tried to get a hold of it, the more elusive it became.
There was one way to find out. "Get Spock in here," he demanded.
"Mr. Spock is refusing to leave his quarters." Chapel told him.
"He what?" McCoy demanded. "Then who's in command of the Enterprise?"
"Mr Scott is in command."
McCoy made it up his mind and gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the biobed. His legs were a little unsteady, but they held him all right.
"Where do you think you're going?" M'Benga demanded.
"Someone needs to knock some sense into that Vulcan," McCoy declared.
oOo
In the end, neither M'Benga nor Chapel had tried to stop McCoy from leaving sickbay. They had probably figured that he wouldn't get far at any rate, McCoy thought grimly as he made his way towards Spock's quarters, using the wall to support himself and keep from falling flat on his face. He didn't have all the facts yet, but one thing was clear: it was a fine mess he'd caused there. It had only been his intention to risk his own life. He hadn't wanted to endanger anyone. He wouldn't have, had it not been for Jim. Trust the man to get in on some foolhardy attempt to save his life, he thought furiously. Had he not seen that he'd provoked the fight with Spock for him and for him alone? Jim probably thought that no one could possibly know about his feelings for his first officer. And why had Spock even proposed this whole assisted mind-meld affair? Surely he had to have known how dangerous it would be for a human! Despite his growing fatigue, McCoy was determined to get some answers from the half-Vulcan.
By the time he finally arrived in front of Spock's quarters, he was shaking with exhaustion. He allowed himself a moment to gather his strength, before pressing the door chime. He waited, even though he didn't really expect an answer. Still, for politeness' sake, he tried once more before employing his medical override to open the door. Inside, dim light and stifling heat greeting him in an uncomfortable reminder of the events on Vulcan.
"Spock?" he called out. There was no reply, but some second later, Spock emerged from the interior of his quarters. He was out of uniform, wearing Vulcan robes instead. A shiver went through McCoy at the sight, and he felt something akin to panic taking hold of him.
"Doctor McCoy. You are feeling better, I take it?" Spock enquired. His tone was neutral and devoid of emotion, but still only served to increase McCoy's anxiety. He was trying to tell himself that his reaction was ridiculous. How could he be traumatized by something he didn't even remember?
Before McCoy had a chance to speak, Spock continued. "I assume you are here to inform me of your intention to press charges against me."
It took McCoy a moment to realize what Spock meant. So far, he hadn't even thought of the legal ramifications of what had happened. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words choked in his throat and when he finally did manage to speak, it came out in a croak. "No. No. That's not why I'm here."
"I do not understand," Spock confessed, "surely you must realize that I am guilty of no less than rape, aggravated assault and attempted murder? I fully admit to those charges and intend to offer no defence, if that is what concerns you."
Huh? Rape? Aggravated assault? That didn't make any sense. What was that damn Vulcan on about now, McCoy wondered. He had read the medical report. He had taken a severe beating all right and if Spock wanted to call it attempted murder, so be it, but the rest? That didn't make any sense. M'Benga wouldn't omit something like that from the medical record. Unless, unless Jim had ordered him to. It would be like Jim to do something like that. It was the only way if Jim had wanted to save Spock's career which he must have since no less than eleven days had passed and Spock was still on board and not in a holding cell on some Starbase.
"Do you require medical assistance, Dr. McCoy?" Spock's voice filtered through to him.
"What I require are some explanations!" he shot back, albeit privately, the idea of lying down sounded damn good.
"As you wish." Spock replied.
"Can I come in then?"
Spock moved aside and motioned for him to enter. McCoy took a deep breath to quell his rising anxiety and entered the dim room. Spock offered him a seat, but remained standing himself.
"What is it that you wish to know?" he asked after a moment of tense silence.
"What...what exactly...what happened between us?" McCoy had to force the words out. Based on what Spock had said before, he was starting to get a pretty good idea of what had happened in sickbay after he had ordered the doors locked. Spock hadn't just beaten him; he also had...assaulted him sexually. On some level, he supposed it made sense. It explained why they were both still alive.
McCoy had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed that Spock had begun speaking.
oOo
"You don't suppose we should follow him?" Nurse Chapel asked after McCoy was out of earshot.
"I think they'll need to talk sooner or later. Might as well get it over with." M'Benga said, shaking his head.
Nurse Chapel was about to reply when a high pitched wail cut through the air, coming from the room adjacent to the main ward, the same room where the captain was being kept alive on life support.
She hurried to follow the doctor, catching up with him at Kirk's bedside. For a man supposedly deeply unconscious, Kirk was surprisingly animate, moving and muttering fretfully. She followed Dr. M'Benga's gaze to the readings displayed overhead.
Unbelievable as it was, the alarm that had caught their attention had been that of the life support unit disengaging itself. Their patient was now breathing on his own, blood pressure and brain activity increasing rapidly. Moments later, the captain's eyes opened. At first, he appeared confused, his eyes moving from the doctor to the nurse and back again, then a concerned, if not panicked look came over him.
"Bones?" he whispered. "Where's..."
"Dr. McCoy has recovered. You and Mr. Spock were successful," M'Benga told him. Somehow, the news didn't appear to assuage whatever anxiety was plaguing the captain.
"No," he protested hoarsely. "Bones...in trouble. Find him!" Kirk insisted. The biobed readings showed that his blood pressure and heart rate were still rising, moving towards dangerous levels.
oOo
From the moment he had regained consciousness in sickbay, Jim had known, just known that Bones was in some sort of trouble and that he needed to find him. If only he could make M'Benga and Chapel understand! They were saying that Bones had recovered, but they wouldn't tell him where he was. Jim sighed in frustration as he tried as he tried to form the words that would communicate what he knew to be true. If he hadn't been too weak to even raise his head, he would have gotten up and searched for Bones himself.
"Captain, you need to calm down. Do you understand?" M'Benga was talking again.
Jim shook his head, the small motion costing him valuable strength. "Bones..," he tried again, but failed to utter another word. His vision started to grey and he was afraid he was going to pass out again. His ears were ringing; still he could faintly hear alarms going off around him, then the contents of a hypospray being injected into the side of his neck. At first he feared it was a sedative, but his vision soon started to clear, the ringing in his ears vanished and the sheer panic he'd felt eased to a more manageable level.
"I've given you a psychic blocking agent. You should be feeling better any moment," M'Benga told him. Jim didn't entirely understand, but he nodded to indicate that he was indeed starting to feel better. "Don't worry about Dr. McCoy. He really is all right. I've sent Nurse Chapel to check on him though, just to make sure."
"What happened?" Jim managed.
"I'm not entirely sure," M'Benga answered evasively. "Just try to sleep for a bit. You have been through quite a lot."
Now that the overwhelming panic and the need to find Bones were gone for the most part, sleep really did seem like a very good idea right about now. Besides, he wasn't sure if he could have kept his eyes open much longer if he had wanted to.
oOo
Christine wasn't sure what to expect when Dr. M'Benga had sent her to check on Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy. For some reason, the doctor seemed to think that there was something to the captain's delirious ramblings. Still, she had obeyed his orders and was now standing in front of Spock's quarters. Hesitating, she pressed the chime and was surprised when it was answered almost immediately. For days, Spock had refused to see anyone, indeed he had not even spoken to anyone, besides affirming that he was all right and did not require any assistance.
"Nurse Chapel," he greeted her. "It is good that you should come. I believe Dr. McCoy might be in need of assistance."
"What's happened?" she asked, her mind flashing back to the day when she had been called in to assist Dr. M'Benga in saving Dr. McCoy's life.
Before Spock could answer, McCoy himself appeared. He looked terribly pale and was trembling all over.
"I'm fine," he declared, although his voice lacked conviction. "Did something happen to Jim? Is he all right?"
Christine was taken aback by the question, but managed to answer eventually. "Yes, he's regained consciousness a few minutes ago."
McCoy breathed an audible sigh of relief. "I should better be getting back to sickbay, then," he said, addressing Spock. Christine was not surprised that he didn't quite meet the half-Vulcan's eyes as he spoke. Given the doctor's apparent emotional state, she didn't have to wonder what they had been talking about.
"We can continue our conversation whenever you feel ready," Spock told McCoy, and them addressing her, he said, "you better see to it that he gets some rest, nurse."
"I will." Christine assured him before she and Dr. McCoy stepped back out into the corridor.
oOo
Jim knew that Bones was nearby before he had even opened his eyes. When he did open them and Bones was indeed sitting in chair near his biobed, studying the contents of a PADD, he knew he ought to be at least a little bit concerned, but for some reason the mere presence of the other man had a profoundly reassuring effect. For a while, all he did was enjoy the strange yet pleasant feeling, until he felt a sudden wave of anger coming from Bones.
"Bones?" he asked in confusion as he saw that the other man had put aside the PADD and was now looking back at him.
"How nice of you to finally join us," Bones commented. The words were friendly enough, but Jim had known him long enough to know that that tone of voice meant trouble. Bones got up from his chair and stalked over to Jim's bedside. "What on Earth were you thinking, Jim?"
"What?"
"Oh, don't play innocent with me," Bones thundered, "you know what I mean. How could you take such an insane risk?"
"I didn't have a choice," Jim protested, "you were about to be shipped off to some nursing home on Earth."
"And you thought that gave you the right to do this?"
"Bones, I'm sorry," Jim apologized. "There was no way I could ask your consent and I honestly thought you would want me to try this."
"You thought I would want you to risk your life on a procedure that had only a tiny chance of working? One that has never actually been tested?" Bones paused for a few seconds then continued in a calmer tone of voice. "Jim, this ship needs its captain." The anger Jim had felt from Bones was now replaced by something else.
"Bones, are you in love with me?" Jim asked quietly. He knew he was taking a chance and he still didn't understand how it was even possible, but he was sure now that he could somehow sense Bones' emotions.
Bones stared at him then covered his face with his hands. "That damn Vulcan..," Jim heard him mutter under his breath. That got Jim's attention. It was clear that Bones knew something he didn't.
"What do you mean? What does Spock have to do with it?" Jim asked.
"Dr. M'Benga thinks that when Spock projected you into my mind, it created a sort of psychic bond between the two of us."
"But how's that possible, neither of us are telepaths?"
"Well, some humans have latent psychic abilities. It seems that I'm one of them and somehow, Spock's...attempt to...bond with me, activated them. Then when he projected you into my mind, I must have subconsciously reached out and created the bond with you," Bones explained, not looking at Jim while he spoke. "It's a theory, anyways."
"That explains that, I guess. But you still haven't answered my question, Bones."
"I was sort of hoping you'd forgotten about that," Bones grumbled. "But if you have to know, yes, Jim I am in love with you. And I'm sorry about the whole psychic bond thing. I didn't mean to do that. Not when you're in love with Spock." Bones laughed mirthlessly.
Now it was Jim's turn to stare. "You think I'm in love with Spock? Then why do you think I agreed to do the mind meld with you? I knew it was risky, but it was worth it, you understand? You were worth it."
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
"We make quite the pair, don't we?"
"That we do." Jim agreed. "So what do you say we give this a try?"
The End