M'Benga sat at the sub-room work station pouring over data from the latest barrage of tests. There were several remaining to be done, but McCoy was obviously exhausted, his physical and mental energy at a low ebb. More worrisome, he was listless, disengaged, as if his normally curious spirit had been quenched and living no longer held much appeal.
M'Benga's stylus tapped against the desktop as he acknowledged the mind sifter was not solely responsible for McCoy's mental status. He had treated his CMO for depression in the past. McCoy was not hesitant in asking for help when he knew it was needed. Depression for him was long standing, although intermittent, and he kept himself in his best shape in order to better take care of his crew. For him, the crew's well-being was paramount, and he would sacrifice his own life for any one of them. M'Benga had seen him depressed, but never indifferent. He took a deep breath. The dragons would not win while he had anything to say about it.
He pushed back from the desk just as Uhura entered the room. He stood and smiled, glad for the distraction.
"I came to see if I might visit with Doctor McCoy," Uhura said.
"Certainly. I think a visit from a good friend might be just what he needs. Keep it short, though. He's still weak and tired." He walked her over to the room, stepping inside first. McCoy's bed was raised into a semi-reclining position, his eyes closed.
"Hullo, Leonard," he said, sweeping his eyes over the readouts. "I've brought you some company."
McCoy opened his eyes, looking past M'Benga to see Uhura's bright smile. He nodded. M'Benga edged out, and Uhura moved to the bed, planting a kiss on McCoy's forehead.
"I'm so glad to see you," she said, pulling up the bedside chair and perching on the edge. She took McCoy's hand in both of hers. "I was so worried. We all were. How are you feeling?"
"I'm all right." He closed his eyes.
Uhura looked at his face. He was very pale, the dark circles under his eyes pronounced. His hand lay slackly in hers. She squeezed gently and felt only the slightest increase in pressure in return.
She laid a hand aside his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beginning to emerge She smoothed his brow and the little permanent crease on his forehead.
"Len," she said quietly. "Look at me."
For a moment she thought he wouldn't, but then he opened his eyes. Their normally bright blue seemed dull and subdued.
"Len, it's OK for you to not be all right. You can't fix everything for everyone every time. You're a good man. No, not just good. More than that. You are the most caring person I have ever known. You look into everyone and find what's worthy. A mirror that reflects only our best parts, because that's what you want us to see in ourselves." Uhura paused, swallowing hard.
"I wish you could look in that mirror at yourself. That you could see what we see in you. You'd see your soul shine. Maybe then you could forgive yourself for being Human sometimes, for needing help."
His grip tightened on her hand a bit. "Believe me, I am aware of my Human frailty. But I have to own my mistakes. We all do."
"Own them, then. But there's no need to pay for them again and again. Extend to yourself the same sense of charity and forbearance you so freely grant to others."
McCoy closed his eyes again, but spoke in a surprisingly strong voice.
" 'These are spots in your feasts of charity, when they feast with you, feeding themselves without fear: clouds they are without water, carried about of winds; trees whose fruit withereth without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots. Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.' "
Uhura gripped his hand tightly. "What does that mean, Len? What are you saying?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm taking it out of context anyway."
Uhura leaned closer. "Leonard McCoy. You will not utter those words like some morbid epitaph and expect me to ignore them, or worse, figure out what you mean." Her voice was pitched low with anger and emotion. "I have been afraid for you since before this mission. Then on Aminta, I thought you might die. When I found that you had been under the Mind Sifter..." Uhura's voice broke. She leaned her cheek against his hand, hot tears flowing over their joined fingers.
"Nyota. I'm sorry. Sorry I put you through that. Sorry I made such a mess of things."
Uhura looked up, wiping her eyes. "But you survived, and you're here with us. But you're not all right yet. What did you just say? Withered and twice dead, wandering in darkness forever? Oh, Len." A fresh tear tracked down her cheek.
McCoy wiped the tear away with his thumb. It was a long moment before he spoke, his words shifting into an unexpected direction. "Did I ever tell you my great-granddaddy was a preacher?"
Uhura shook her head. "No, but I would love to hear about him."
He was silent a while, staring at an imaginary spot on his blanket. Uhura waited, knowing he seldom spoke of his family and would only do so when his thoughts were ordered to his satisfaction.
"Grandpa John was my Daddy's grandfather. He lived with us, or more accurately we lived with him on the farm." He glanced at her. "In Georgia, you know?"
Uhura smiled. "Yes. I remember you're from Georgia."
McCoy nodded. "Well, Grandpa John was stout, a big man with a booming voice. He was an old-time hellfire and brimstone Baptist, nothing like the gently diffuse and peaceful spirituality that emerged after First Contact." He paused. "Sometimes when he preached, his voice would ring out, and his eyes would glaze, he'd drop to his knees and talk to the Almighty like he was seeing Him face to face... He called it being cast in the Glory."
He released her hand and thrust his fists in the air, eyes turned toward the ceiling and raised his voice in a sing-song pattern.
"Ah yes, these sinners shall suffer, like Sodom and Gomorrah! They will be made example and suffer in the eternal fire, yea, the fearful and unbelieving, the abominable, and the murders and whoremongers and sorcerers and idolaters and the liars and the disobedient children, all shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, yea, the second death!"
Uhura's heart pounded as she stared at the transformation, startled and disquieted. McCoy slowly lowered his hands, taking a deep breath. He looked at her, his features relaxing.
"Can I get an amen?" he asked softly.
"Leonard..."
He held his hand for her to take and closed her fingers in his.
"I didn't mean to scare you. Guess I can channel Grandpa John effectively."
Uhura's eyes were wide as she nodded agreement. "I don't know what to say. That must have been frightening to you as a child."
"Wasn't just me. My parents were afraid of him, too. Or resigned, is a better label. They understood he couldn't or wouldn't change. They wouldn't argue with him. I did. We clashed frequently We were a lot alike, and at the same time, polar opposites." He sighed, falling silent again. He laid back and wearily closed his eyes.
"I've been thinking about Hell," McCoy finally continued. "For me, that includes thinking about Grandpa John." He felt Uhura stir uneasily.
"Oh. I'm not talkin' about mythological constructs, the lake of fire where sinners are thrown to suffer forever, or the gates Cerberus guards. I mean the anguish that lives deeply buried. Individual Hell. It's real, that Darkness inside."
Uhura drew in a sharp breath. "The Mind Sifter, it sent you there, didn't it?
McCoy nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Don't be overly concerned," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've spent some time there already. It wasn't new."
"I hate to think you're carrying around any form of Hell inside, old or new," Uhura said, her eyes soft. She squeezed his hand. "You, of all people, do not deserve that."
"Deserved is a loaded word. Who has the say in what is deserved or unwarranted, just or unfair? The universe metes out misery and joy in random parcels with no reservation or intention."
"You're describing chaos."
McCoy frowned. "No. Not all elements are chaotic. We can craft our reactions to events that are not under our control."
"Yes," Uhura said quietly. "We can build an internal fortress for protection and hide behind it. And maybe a private Hell to punish ourselves when we fall short in our expectations and hopes."
McCoy opened his eyes, a ghost of a smile reflected there.
"That turned personal quickly."
Uhura leaned close to him. "With you, Doctor, things are always personal." She planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "You have people who care about you. Get better soon, Dear Leonard. I love you, and I'm here for you always."
"Thank you. I'm tryin'." He gave her fingers a quick squeeze and released her hand.
Uhura stood. "I promised Doctor M'Benga I wouldn't stay too long. I'll be back soon."
McCoy watched her retreat, sinking back into his pillow. He didn't know what had prompted him to talk about Grandpa John. He sought no sense of catharsis, nor had he expected to lighten his soul by the telling. His head was beginning to ache, so he dismissed the line of thought with a mental shake and turned over to face the wall, pulling the cover high on his shoulders. He felt on display in the unit room, even with the blinds closed.
A few minutes had passed when he heard someone quietly enter. He knew it was T'Phol without turning over. For a moment he considered feigning sleep, but rolled over to face her instead.
"Leonard!" Her eyes lit with pleasure as she stepped close to his bed. "You are awake." She leaned over him with a careful hug, kissing his cheek. She pulled the chair close and sat. "How are you? I have been here. You were not conscious."
"I'm still undergoing tests, but apparently the damage is not too bad."
"I am extremely relieved that is the case." T'Phol laid her hand on his arm. "Leonard, there is something I must tell you."
He searched her face. "You look serious."
"I am serious. I have betrayed you."
McCoy's eyebrow rose. "Betrayed me? I doubt it, but tell me how."
"During an interview with Captain Kirk, I told him I thought it was possible you had been influenced by Piasa."
McCoy chuckled. T'Phol stared at him, dumfounded. "This is somehow amusing?"
"This is Jim Kirk digging for answers. He won't stop until he finds them, either. He'll talk to everyone and listen to what they have to say. He'll talk to me as soon as M'Benga gives him the go-ahead.
"That aside, you are mistaken about Piasa. I don't believe he was controlling me at all. I also understand you had to tell Jim what you thought. That wasn't a betrayal, so don't worry about it."
"I did not disclose any private information you have shared in confidence."
McCoy nodded. "Thank you."
They fell into a somewhat uneasy silence, then both started to speak at once.
"You first," T'Phol said.
"I was gonna ask how things are going on Aminta."
"I returned in the shuttle with you. So I do not know what people are doing elsewhere."
McCoy's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? I was at the lab."
"Yes. I left the compound to search for you. Edwin Teal and I followed the birds in a flyer. We arrived just before the attack."
"Who is Edwin Teal?"
"He is a mathematician assigned to Site Three. He saved my life, then kidnapped me. We ended up working together to search for you. He is a remarkable man. I will bring him to meet you when you are better."
McCoy saw the edge of the bandage and pushed her sleeve back, turning her arm as he inspected. "What is this? Tell me what happened."
T'Phol launched telling her story while McCoy listened with growing incredulity, but largely without comment. When she finished, he gave a low whistle of appreciation.
"That was quite an adventure. Maybe it was foolish for you to undertake, but it turned out all right in the end. Your aim probably saved some lives, including mine."
"I could not sit back knowing you were in danger."
McCoy shook his head. "You shouldn't have risked your life like that. But thank you." He paused, deep in thought.
"So Little Birdy can talk to Spock. I wonder if Piasa could talk to me like that. And if he can, why didn't he? I must return to the surface."
M'Benga entered the room, hypo in hand.
"You will have to get stronger before you can think about beaming down," he said, studying the panel's readouts. "I have a vitamin mix for you. How's your pain?"
"Better."
M'Benga emptied they hypo into his shoulder. "It's time for a regen session. Then you need to rest."
T'Phol stood. "I believe that is my invitation to leave. I will return later."
"All right."
T'Phol left Sickbay, knowing something had changed, but not understanding what. She returned to her cabin, and immediately began preparing for meditation, her mind and heart restless with unanswered questions.
