A/N: Sorry for the slight delay, I've been unusually busy lately. I had half of this written, then my muse sort of stopped, but I finally wrote the other half. Lots of Spocks and lots of McCoys in this! More of a character(s)-study chapter, but still with hints you will need to know. ;) Wink, wink ;)
And THANK YOU for the beautiful reviews! I'm trying to go not for the scary-character feel, but for the they-haven't-done-anything-but-you-know-it's-coming sort of creepiness. I work on that a little more in this chapter. Enjoy!
I.S.S. Enterprise
Spock believed he found a safe niche in this universe. If one could call it safe. He would wake up in the morning and get his meals from the mess hall before anyone else was up. Then he would head straight for the labs to continue working on the problem. It was mildly difficult- sometimes the computer shut down on him if it thought he was too close to parallel universes, leaving much of his work to be done with other devices and his head.
McCoy often joined him, watching him work, asking questions, and delegating Sickbay activities to his staff. They fell into an odd routine- Spock working, and McCoy watching, neither commenting on it. Though he still didn't fully know the doctor's reasons, Spock was careful to not upset the balance. Again, it was logical to get by as smoothly as possible.
Though McCoy did most of the watching, Spock had been observing this universe as well. He found it… startling.
The cruelty was unsurpassed, but what stood out to him were the moments where these crewmen acted so normally that they appeared like their counterparts. Sulu, for instance. Spock quickly learned that though the Security Chief was always playing people and planning for power, and highly skilled with his knives, he was not always the merciless man. He observed him coolly slice up another man while sparring, not batting an eye, actually grinning, but later that same day Spock noticed him discreetly stroke a plant in hydroponics when he thought no one was looking. Like his own Sulu, the helmsman, there was a botanist underneath.
Little touches like that extended everywhere. Uhura seemed to hold an unusually great power over the ship- likely it was because she was in charge of all communications, in, out, and intra- crewmen scurried out of her way and her smile was sickly sweet, but Spock heard her humming quietly to herself as she worked. Chekov got in a fight with someone over Russian pride (the navigator emerged victorious, while the other man's remains were quickly discarded). Mr. Scott seemed the same, but didn't tolerate mistakes made in Engineering, sending anyone to the agony booth.
The captain was… unnerving. He was cruel, in charge, and at times appeared unbalanced. Spock did his best to stay in the lab, and never once visited the bridge. Kirk was deft and a mean fighter, muscles toned and face hard. He could hold his own in a verbal battle, but the moment push came to shove he would be the first to physically attack. His shark-like gaze roamed all over the ship- his ship- and at times Spock felt the illogical sensation that he was being watched.
But of course, no one was around. Were they?
McCoy was a different matter. He had the same complex blend of anger and compassion, only it was altered. Spock couldn't quite place it. The man was still very opinionated, but at the same time vague. One thing Spock noticed was that this McCoy somehow managed to keep his true motives and opinions concealed. In answering questions, he gave several different choices and possibilities. 'Maybe', 'perhaps'… noncommittal sentence beginnings. An interesting idiosyncrasy.
The doctor sat in his customary position- on the counter, feet dangling leisurely- as Spock worked. "So," he said nonchalantly. "Does he irritate you as much as I do my Spock?"
Spock recognized that 'he' must mean the Dr. McCoy he was familiar with. "I am a Vulcan; I do not feel irritation."
McCoy just looked him over as he punched in some new formulas. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."
Spock resisted the urge to sigh. He was about to reply when the doors swooshed open, and Captain Kirk stood there, jaw set and eyes glittering.
"I need to talk with you, Sawbones," he said shortly.
McCoy shrugged and hopped off the counter, moving agilely to the connecting lab. The door closed behind them and Spock strained to pick up what they were saying. Even with his hearing, he couldn't catch more than a muffled, heated discussion. It sounded serious. Perhaps it would be best not to pry…
"That's not good enough!"
Spock was startled by the captain's shout. Instantly, McCoy lashed back, just as loud. The voices grew more distant, they must have moved away from the door, but the volume never decreased. Suddenly it ceased. It grew quiet enough that Spock turned in his chair to look at the door, idly wondering if one killed the other. A moment later it swooshed open again, and McCoy reentered, looking smug, while Kirk glowered behind him.
"Next emergency, Doctor," Kirk reminded him dangerously.
McCoy relaxed against his counter. "Sure thing, James."
Kirk set his predatory gaze on Spock. "How are you coming with those equations?" he demanded.
"Almost complete," Spock answered immediately. "Another storm is due in a little over a day, smaller, but we should be able to compensate with energy from our warp engines. I am fine-tuning the necessary adjustments now."
Kirk pursed his lips. "Noted, Mr. Spock. I want everything to go as quickly as possible, you hear?" Spock nodded and Kirk turned sharply on his heel and marched out. Behind him, McCoy chuckled.
"Don't mind him. He's just in a bad temper, is all."
"May I inquire as to what you were arguing about?"
McCoy looked at him coolly. "You may."
When the doctor uttered no further words Spock hesitantly asked "What were you arguing about?"
"Oh, just a matter of concerns," McCoy drawled. "None of which are yours."
"I see." Spock looked where the captain had left. "Do you have an alliance with Kirk?"
McCoy's lips spread into an unsettling smile. "Let's just say that James and I have an understanding."
Not allies. But not enemies. Friends? If their argument was anything to go by, Spock didn't think so. Yet it was a fascinating relationship.
"Why was he upset?" Spock asked casually.
"Oh, he just thinks I'm delegatin' too much," McCoy drawled. "Missed surgery on Williams… course, it's not like he's in charge of Sickbay. Sure, he can say who not to work on, like Mailerie, but he can't tell me who and when to work on, not when I've got my staff on it."
"Mailerie," Spock tried to place the name. "Why can you not work on this person?"
"Because she's a half-breed," McCoy answered. "And James Kirk likes his ship to be the best- and the purest." McCoy raised his hand in a mock-toast. "She still got assigned, but I'm under orders that if she gets injured to not treat her- let her die off."
Both of Spock's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Doctor," Spock said. "I am a-"
There was no time to think. In a flash of movement McCoy suddenly had him pinned up against the wall. Spock felt a blade against his throat and he watched incredulously as the doctor raised a silent finger to his lips.
Spock stayed quiet.
Removing the knife, McCoy eased gingerly across the lab and reached under a table. With a swift tug, he yanked out something and held it up for Spock to see.
A listening device.
"Got to watch out for these," McCoy mused, eyeing the wireless bug in his hand. "Certainly practical and common on a ship like this, but it sure does make it tough to have a private conversation." As he spoke he crossed to the intercom unit, raising a hand to answer just a moment before it whistled.
"I'm not talking about mutiny, Sulu, when I say a private conversation I mean a conversation! Now stop listening in on everything and go back to interrogating your vegetables or something!" The doctor slammed his fist on the panel, closing the channel without waiting for a reply. He then dropped the bug on the ground and promptly crushed it with his boot.
Spock watched all this in fascination. The doctor seemed to have an innate understanding of the ship's people and behaviors. McCoy nudged the broken metal and wires away with his toe and faced him.
"No one knows you're a half-breed," McCoy clarified. "Your Vulcans might, but that's between you and them. At least you're Vulcan enough to meet M'Benga's standards, not that he's ever gotten a close enough look."
Spock nodded, processing the information. "And how do you know?" he asked.
McCoy grinned. "I'm your doctor, aren't I? I can't help but know." He sauntered towards the door. "Just be careful what you say, Spock," he tossed over his shoulder.
The doors closed behind him.
U.S.S. Enterprise
McCoy paced anxiously in his office. For the last two days he'd been circling like a hawk around the astrophysics lab- always nearing it, but never going in. After his threat to Spock, he'd been even more high-strung. Was someone watching the Vulcan? Where was he? How would he know Spock wasn't in, say, the Mess Hall?
He wasn't sure what to do. He was torn between wanting to watch the Vulcan- to know where he is- and wanting to run as far away as possible. One couldn't exactly do both.
A hand made its way restlessly through his hair. He'd been too anxious to eat. His staff had noticed, he could tell, but so far haven't reported him to the captain. They'd seen him in worse states.
"Damn," McCoy muttered, spinning sharply out the door. He needed to move. He needed to do something, anything to get his mind off of cobra on the ship.
His feet took him to the chemistry lab. Of course. He could always start running some tests and fiddling with compounds- there were dozens of things to occupy someone in a chemistry lab-
The doors opened and McCoy stopped cold. Spock turned around at his sudden entrance. The Vulcan was poised in front of several Erlenmeyer flasks, test tubes, and titration equipment. He raised an eyebrow.
"Doctor," he greeted formally.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" McCoy asked, utterly surprised.
"I am attempting to see if heat affects the concentration of certain forms of acidic compounds," Spock replied smoothly.
"What about the transposition formulas?" McCoy's voice strained, but didn't crack.
"Completed." Spock took a step forward and McCoy shuffled back, but it was only to obtain a Bunsen burner. "With the aid of the computers, Mr. Scott, and Captain Kirk, I was able to piece together the necessary requirements for another beaming. We have now to wait for the next storm to arise." Spock turned back to his experiment.
"Well, I guess you'd be the expert," McCoy forced out, with a nervous chuckle. "I don't even pretend to understand all of that interdimensional stuff."
"A shame, Doctor," Spock responded dryly. "It is very… illuminating."
McCoy suppressed a shiver at the dead tone.
He turned to leave, his mind screaming at him to go, leave, leave, get out, now, but was stopped when Spock continued speaking. "For instance, it appears that the Enterprise itself is a very specific reference point."
"Oh?"
"The ship exists in both realities. In several realities, as the equations suggest many more. But more important than that is her crew. Several key members of the crew, I should say."
McCoy swallowed. "Like who?"
Those black eyes were on him again but he didn't squirm. "Like you."
McCoy's vision tunneled briefly.
"And me. And Mr. Scott. The entire bridge crew, in fact, especially Captain Kirk. Lesser crewmembers do not have as great an impact on the realities, but key people and items are always in the same position. This is why there are a few crewmen on my Enterprise that are not here, while there are some crewmen here who are not on my ship." Spock paused. "Yet the key items and people remain linked between dimensions. It is my understanding that the two universes are bound. Where one key person is in one, he is in the other."
"So what's your point, Spock?" McCoy asked. He seemed to be handling himself better. Then the Vulcan looked at him oddly.
"My point is that I do not recall a trip to Vulcan. My counterpart must be a fair healer."
"What are you talking about?" McCoy bit harshly.
"The ramifications of my meld."
The room felt cold, as if all the air had just been sucked away. So it was out. It did happen. No sense dancing around it anymore.
"Yeah, what about 'em?" McCoy asked casually. What about the nightmares, the migraines, the panic attacks that followed for weeks until you showed up and refreshed them?
"Normally that type of meld requires healing. You are still on duty as Chief Medical Officer. Seeing as there are no other Vulcans aboard, I surmise that my counterpart was responsible for restoring your mental faculties."
A detached, crazy part of McCoy's mind wanted to laugh. Spock restore his sanity? The hobgoblin would be the one to cause him to lose it in the first place.
The rest of him was much calmer, if only locked in place by the implications of this Spock's words. What exactly did happen to him?
"There was no healer."
Spock, who had turned back around to his experiment, suddenly froze. It was only for an instant, but his shoulders stiffened before he raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating."
When he turned around he saw that McCoy had fled the room.
It was getting a bit long, so I figured this was a good stopping point. There will be more of Jim in the next chapter, as well as some action! So hold onto your hats, folks, and please review!