Hi everyone, did you have a good couple of weeks? I'm now completely mellowed out and zen like and come armed with fic! Lots of fic! I'm going to be a bit sporadic for the next week or so while I catch up on all the things I neglected while I was away, but I figured it was better to drop in now and then instead of leaving you hanging an extra week. To everyone who sent me notes, messages or death threats, I will respond ASAP. I missed you guys!
Anyway, to answer some of the questions that arose while I was gone:
This is the last story in this arc. Meaning I plan on getting our crew to the place they are in at the very end of STID. You should hopefully know by now that as mean as I am, I need happy endings!
So yes, I promise much fic is to come your way. Xxx
(And just a heads up, this part is hurty! You'll get why I didn't want to leave you with it. I know some of you are going to probably be mad at various and sundry characters - and me, probably!- but as always I ask that you hang in there. There is comfort on the horizon to counter all this hurt. Promise!)
Spock was possibly the only one who was not shocked by the sudden violence that exploded out of McCoy. Far from surprise, he was in fact strangely moved to sympathy for the doctor. McCoy, perhaps even more so than Spock himself, had been whittled away to little more than his barest emotions in the wake of Jim's clearly fabricated death.
Even McCoy looked surprised by his own actions. He stared at Jim, who reeled backwards with the force of the blow but rapidly coiled for violence himself. Spock observed him with a disconnected sort of curiosity and recognized the tightly strung tension in Jim's neck and shoulders that spoke of preexisting injury and the plan to fight despite it.
Having never known Jim to back down from a confrontation, Spock fully expected an escalation of the violence, but Jim eventually relaxed, his shoulders loosening and his stance shifting to something far less threatening, despite his outwardly rough appearance.
"Okay, so I probably deserved that." Jim admitted reluctantly. "Nice form."
McCoy looked as if he had multiple responses to Jim's statement, but though he opened his mouth, no word was formed. Taking into account prior data from pervious exchanges that followed some folly of Jim's, Spock now expected the two men to embrace or perhaps insult one another, but was both surprised and disturbed when McCoy simply shook his head and turned away from Jim. "I'll be in sickbay if you need me." He informed them, his voice flat and unemotional. Jim was not the only one who gaped at him as he left the bridge.
"Bones." Jim called after his friend, hand reaching for McCoy's arm. The doctor avoid him deftly and disappeared into the lift without further comment.
The expression on Jim's face would once have stirred Spock to disapproval, and later to pain. Now he found his protective instincts at war with the well of anger that lived inside him.
He paused a moment to recognize the irony of his situation. He always had said Jim made him feel more human...
"I believe we have much to discuss." He found himself speaking without thought, his eyes locked with Jim's.
Logic demanded he hear all sides of the story.
Friendship demanded no less.
Jim nodded curtly and followed him to the ready room. No one moved to join them. No one dared.
"You have the con, Mr Sulu." Spock commanded, then the door closed.
"Should I even ask that the hell you've done to my ship?" Jim asked tiredly, sinking sideways into the chair he had always occupied, no thought given to the gesture. Spock did not mind, and had never taken that particular seat for himself in any case. He found himself fetching them both water from a replicator and placing a bottle in front of Jim, who gave a start of surprise, then hungrily gulped his way through the entirety.
The gesture forced Spock to pay closer attention to the condition Jim had appeared in, and for a brief moment his anger gave way to concern.
The man sat in front of him was barely recognizable as the man Spock had believed lost to them. Even recovering from his physical traumas, Jim had been instantly identifiable by his golden hair, clear blue eyes and commanding presence.
It looked as if Jim's hair had been shaved, or perhaps cut, roughly and with little care for aesthetics. Thee were bloody wounds that had been closed with surgical structures dotting both his skull and the side of his face. His skin, which had lacked its usual golden tone after his time in the hospital, now appeared parched of sunlight entirely, and dark circles ringed bloodshot eyes.
What caused him the most concern however was the ugly, raw appearing wound at his throat that only revealed itself as Jim's clothing had shifted to accommodate his drinking.
"I will call doctor McCoy to see to your injuries." He reached for the comm only to be stilled by Jim's jerk of surprise.
"It's not necessary." Jim said tiredly. "It looks worse than it is."
"It looks," Spock said, coldness creeping back into his voice, "as though someone slit your throat open."
To his credit, Jim gave no indication that he was hurt or upset by Spock's tone of voice. "It's been a bitch of a few months, but then I get the feeling it's not exactly been fun and games for you guys either. What the hell happened, Spock? Why is the Enterprise even in the black?"
Spock disliked how easily Jim had deflected attention away from himself, but was carefully trying to keep his anger in check, and so allowed Jim his diversion.
He did not, however, intend on being gentle. "You lied to us," he began bluntly, "we watched you walk into the hands of enemy forces; we watched them murder you. As did the entirety of the Federation, which is perhaps why they were so quickly and easily able to rally to arms when the Empire declared war. We were then recruited into Section 31 by your brother, I was promoted to Captain, the Enterprise recommissioned, and our orders issued. We have, to this date, engaged in numerous skirmishes with Klingon forces and have responded with efficient and acceptable levels of force, the latest of which you yourself have just witnessed."
Jim's blank expression shifted the moment Sam was mentioned.
"You listed to Sam?" He exploded. "Are you kidding me? What the hell were you thinking?"
Spock was unaware of how he came to have moved across the room, or why his hands were wrapped around Jim's arms, pressing him hard against the wall. "I was thinking you were dead." He snarled, all but vibrating with anger. "Do you understand what that means? Do you have any comprehension at all for the hurt you have caused the people you claim to care for? Your crew is broken, Jim. They look to me to heal their wounds when I am perhaps the most broken of them all. The man you love as a brother is only sober because lives depend on him being so, and his child blames herself for her uncle's death." Spock's words did what his actions had not, and he could tell from the widening of Jim's eyes that they were finding their target with ruthless precision.
"Spock, I-"
"You will be silent!" Spock's voice cracked on his words as six weeks of rage and heartbreak found an outlet. He realized in that moment that he'd not done as he promised himself he would, and hear Jim speak before passing judgement, but he had given the human the opportunity and there was no stopping Spock now. "You will accept the consequences of your actions, Jim."
"That's what I am trying to do!" Jim yelled, animation flaring to life amidst the hurt Spock had caused with his words.
"You lied to us. You manipulated the love the doctor and I have for you to betray our trust. You had every chance to come to us for help, to treat us as the family I believed we were becoming, and you showed you clearly have no regard for either our feelings for you or anything else." Perhaps that was what hurt the very most.
"It wasn't like that, please Spock, you have to believe me. I would never have gone if I knew that's what they would do. I wouldn't hurt you that way, none of you." The earnest, pleading look in Jim's eyes failed to move him.
"But you would have willingly placed your safety in their hands had your murder not been their main agenda." Spock accused. "What did you expect them to do to you, Jim? What did you expect us to do? Leave you to them? Move on with our lives without you in them?"
"No, I-"
"What, Jim? What did you hope to accomplish with your selfishness?"
Where Jim found the strength or energy to push Spock back, he did not know, but the explosion of kinetic energy freed Jim from Spock's grasp and he stumbled a few steps away, his chest heaving.
"I'm sorry , Spock, I really am. None of this was supposed to happen." Instead of the anger Spock expected after such a show of force, Jim merely seemed weary. The dead weight in his eyes pinned Spock in place with the enormity of the things he had seen and done.
Suddenly, Spock felt ashamed, as he frequently did when his emotions escaped the tight control he attempted to maintain. He unclenched his fists and attempted to reign in the threat of his physical presence. No matter the reasons for his actions, Jim had most likely not been out of enemy territory since his initial imprisonment and Spock owed him more than an attack.
"Forgive me." He said stiffly. "You require medical attention."
Jim shook his head. "I told you-"
"You'll find I'm not particularly inclined to believe a word you say. Clearly you have no compunction or difficulty in lying to me."
That, he realized as soon as he spoke, was crossing a line. Jim's expression shifted rapidly from hurt to frosty blankness.
"You're the Captain." He said, matching Spock's cool tone with one of his own.
Spock's shoulders stiffened. "Indeed." He held out an arm in indication for Jim to lead on. "We will see to your injuries and you will explain how you came to be on that ship."
Jim smiled sardonically. "And what's to stop me lying again?"
Spock knew his expression gave away none of his thoughts. "I am Vulcan. Your voice might deceive me. Your mind will not." Jim's expression curdled in anger. "Shall we?"
He didn't need to read Jim's mind to know exactly what response he was being given.
McCoy was not, despite his words, in sickbay. M'benga was.
"It's good to see you, Jim." He said warmly. Jim's answering smile was warm, but it struck Spock painfully in the chest regardless. Why could he not say the same? Why was his joy and relief so overshadowed by the ugliness of his own pain. "Take a seat."
Jim did as he was told, looking over his shoulder as he shrugged out of his heavy overcoat. "Where's Bones? He digging out the really big hypos?"
M'benga would not meet either of their gazes. "Doctor McCoy will not be your physician, Jim. I will."
Jim somehow managed to look confused, clearly not understanding what was being said to him. Spock said nothing, understanding McCoy's decision but knowing exactly how much pain it would cause.
"But Bones is always my doctor." Jim said as if simply stating that the sky was blue.
"You aren't currently on file as Captain of this ship." M'benga said regretfully. "He's not obligated to treat you when another qualified physician is in attendance."
Jim was an intelligent man. He could read between the lines.
"He's refusing to treat me, isn't he?"
"Like I said, a CMO is not obligated-" M'benga looked utterly miserable.
Jim shook his head sharply. "Don't. Just get on with it." Not looking at either of them, he forcefully dragged his shirt over his head, revealing a bruise by bruise picture of all he had endured while away.
Spock's breath caught in his throat at the sight, "Jim-"
"Shouldn't you be overseeing repairs?" Jim snapped. "You break my ship you can at least fix her up." Jim's response was something Spock might have expected from him a year ago, but was desperately lacking his usually brutal accuracy with his insults. It fell flat and hung between them, backed by the quiet beep of a medical tricorder.
Spock nodded. "I will return in an hour. I expect you still to be here."
Jim clenched his jaw angrily, his arms crossed defensively over his chest and remained pointedly silent.
Spock left sickbay feeling no better than he had that morning when he had still believed Jim dead. He couldn't understand how that had happened. He should be happy. He should be embracing Jim and overseeing his care as McCoy fretted. That was how they worked.
But he had not been lying when he'd told Jim that he was broken. They all were, and how were three broken men supposed to be a whole when all they could do was cause each other pain?
Trusting Sulu to call if his presence was required, Spock turned and headed to McCoy's quarters.