Doctor Jeoff M'Benga had served on the Enterprise for just over three years. Starfleet decided adding a Vulcan specialist for their premier science officer was a wise move. The transfer order came two days after he completed his Vulcan residency. He regarded the move with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Leonard McCoy's reputation was one of brilliance, in diagnostics, surgery, and research. Not many people could claim expertise in such diverse areas of medicine. And if he was also said to be difficult, M'Benga was willing to overlook personality quirks in favor of skill. He wondered if McCoy would see a Vulcan specialist as an intruder in his Sickbay and patient.
He learned quickly McCoy's eminence was neither exaggerated nor undeserved. The Chief Surgeon was accommodating, although perhaps a bit cautious. McCoy watched and evaluated quietly, forming his own opinion. After a short time, M'Benga felt genuinely welcomed as a valued member of an elite team. McCoy trusted his care of Spock as the Vulcan's primary care physician. McCoy was also his patient. M'Benga saw to his medical care, and periodically treated McCoy for his intermittent but long- standing depression. That process was matter-of-fact and business like. McCoy eschewed talking to a ship counselor, preferring to use deep space communication occasionally to talk to his own. Thus the "Bad Patches" passed by.
M'Benga sat at his desk deep in thought, his stylus tapping an unconscious rhythm. He had concerns about the mental status in general throughout the ship. The Enterprise was nearing five years into her deployment. Earth seemed both closer and farther away as the clock ticked down to a few months. He could sense a solid undercurrent of hope mixed with a somehow superstitious dread. They wanted a successful conclusion to the mission, but wondered what unknown and hostile thing in space would stop them from seeing home again. All three doctors routinely counseled crew, or made referrals to psych. After extended periods in deep space, the mental challenges were more difficult than physical health. Space Crazy was the vernacular term, but asthenization was real. The psychological and sociological effects of long term expeditionary missions were real and sometimes long-lasting. The Enterprise was fortunate to have a sttrong and fair captain, one whom the crew admired and trusted. And Spock, of course. Kirk and Spock were becoming almost legendary. M'Benga wondered how such fame would serve them in the future, as both seemed reluctant to claim that title.
McCoy's current Bad Patch was different than the others, even before the Aminta mission. It wasn't Space Crazy or an overwhelming sense of loneliness. McCoy kept his personal life very private, including his inner turmoil and whatever traumatic event he carried with him. M'Benga wondered about the Birds, why did they pick McCoy to contact, and what damage had their tampering wrought? The Mind-sifter, another huge blank in Federation knowledge. McCoy was the only known Human to survive the device, apparently because Little Birdy sent him to the lowest part of a brainwave. M'Benga would not have believed it possible, but the evidence was there, indisputable and solid.
Finally there was the sudden romance from an unexpected source. Shipboard liasons were transient by nature. One partner living in outer space while the other was planet bound was not conducive to long-term bliss. McCoy was a realist, despite occasional flights of fancy, M'Benga was sure he realized the likely outcome. T'Phol seemed thoroughly enchanted, unlikely though it might seem. M'Benga sighed. That was private and not his business. He looked up to see McCoy just outside the door.
"Come in." He waved a hand in invitation. McCoy stepped inside, moving like an elderly man, careful and slow. He sat in the straight chair looking wary.
"I want to be released from Sickbay. I feel like I'm on display. I need time to myself."
"Leonard, you know we're not through with tests..."
"You can run your tests later. Tomorrow I want to go planetside to meet with Piasa and Little Birdy. I'm sure the Captain will require your approval."
M'Benga frowned.
"I'll have it, won't I?"
"Yes, assuming someone is with you, and you limit your time down there. Your body is still pretty fragile."
"And my mind? You didn't say it, but that's what you were thinking."
"And your mind. Yes." M'Benga sat up straight. "You're not yourself. You know it too."
McCoy stood, gripping the edge of the desk. "I am going to my quarters now. You can release me or not, or chart me as AMA. Your privilege."
He turned, leaving without another word. After a moment, M'Benga's stylus resumed its tapping against the desk as he wrestled with his thoughts.
O o o o
McCoy entered his cabin. The lights came on at twenty peercent, bright enough to see how to move about, but not glaring. His head ached, and he was frustrated with himself for bullying M'Benga. He went to the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water, and went to lay on his bunk. The bedding was disheveled just as he- they- had left it. That morning seemed long in the past, maybe from another lifetime. He smoothed the cover and lay on top. He didn't expect to sleep, but he must have dozed because the cabin chime startled him into wakefulness.
"Who is it?"
"This is Spock. May I come in?"
McCoy sighed. "If you must."
Spock stepped through the door. McCoy sat up, running a hand through his hair. Spock regarded him silently for a moment.
"Doctor M'Benga told me you had left Sickbay and would continue some portion of your recovery in your quarters."
"I couldn't take any more Sickbay, Spock. Not as a patient. I felt like an exhibit, on display." He immediately regretted his words, this was too personal for a Spock conversation. He had an absurd little mental image of catching the words before they reached Spock, stuffing them back into his mouth. He winced.
Spock nodded solemnly. "I understand."
McCoy met his eyes in surprise, suddenly realizing Spock did understand. As one of the first Vulcan/Human hybrids, he had been a subject of scrutiny all his life.
"I need coffee." He paused. "Would you like some tea?"
"Thank you, Doctor. Tea would be acceptable."
McCoy sat at his desk, sipping his coffee. Spock took a seat in the other chair. McCoy saw his eyebrow lift in surprise as he tasted the tea. It was a Vulcan beverage T'Phol had programmed into his replicator. They drank in silence for a few minutes. McCoy set his coffee down, leaning forward.
"Spock, I assume this is not a social visit. Did Doctor M'Benga send you to check up on me?"
"He is understandably concerned," Spock said mildly. "However, I am here of my own accord for two reasons. Tomorrow at o-eight hundred hours, I shall accompany you to the surface to see Little Birdy and Piasa. They have been informed and will meet us outside the main compound."
McCoy nodded, relieved, knowing Kirk was unhappy about the situation. He had been considering alternate routes to get to the surface. He was glad they would not be necessary.
"You said two things, Spock. What's the other?"
"It is time you start healing from the event in the Mirror Universe. I wish to offer my assistance."
"Who says I'm not healed? That happened over three years ago. It's behind me now."
Spock suppressed a very Human sigh. He expected McCoy's resistance. He steepled his fingers as he carefully worded his reply, an appeal to the Doctor's curiosity as a physician.
"What do you know about the mind meld process? For this conversation, let us stipulate the meld is between Vulcan and Human."
"Well..." McCoy thought a moment. "Do you mean the physiological response? There are some changes in EEG pattern, blood pressure, sometimes cranial pressure. Tachycardia is common, especially in Humans. Elevated hormone levels."
"Those side effects are one element of the physical risk involved during a meld. The Vulcan initiating the meld would take precautions to minimize adverse physical responses." He leaned a bit closer toward McCoy. "A meld is not only physical, as you know. There is the other element, the telepathic connection. That is more difficult to catalog as a series of responses. Each meld is personal. Every brain is unique, thus requiring customized entry conduits into the Human subject's mind.
"You and I have melded seven times in four point seven four years. I am familiar with the neuro-conduits into your mind. There are several, more than usual. Twelve point eight percent of those are dead ends."
McCoy stirred, intrigued despite himself. "Why would they be dead ends?"
"They are a type of protection, a defense mechanism. You have walls of your own construction. They manifest as long darkened halls with no doors. Your open conduits, the ones that lead to you, are quite different. They are bright and glowing with warm light." He paused. "How do you perceive the scenario as I enter your mind?"
McCoy closed his eyes. "I hear your footsteps approaching. Your gait is easy to identify, so I know it is you before you speak. Then you ask if you can come in. Sometimes I meet you on the porch. Sometimes we sit in the front room. And we talk." He opened his eyes. "How does it happen for you, Spock? What's my mind like?"
"Your mind is an old farmhouse, bright and warm. Welcoming. The quality of light is golden and soft. Everything is illuminated gently at your inner core. There are places in shadow, but they are behind barriers and I do not go there."
Spock saw McCoy shift uneasily as a shadow passed over his face, and waited for him to speak.
"But you could pass those barriers if you wanted to."
Spock nodded gravely. "I could, but I would never do so. I would be reluctant, even were you to give permission. Privacy is fundamental to autonomy. However, some things are not healthy to keep hidden. Such is the forced intrusion by Mirror Spock."
"Why is that any worse than the other times I've been exposed to mind controlling entities? And that's happened too many times. Sometimes I think I'm a beacon for such things. Why do they choose me? Is there a sign in my brain saying "Easy pickings?"
Spock considered his reply carefully before answering.
"Not a sign. Some people have turbulent brain patterns that 'muddy the water', to use a coiloquial phrase. Duplicity and mendacity are obscuring factors, such traits indicate a higher likelihood that a subject is unpredictable, they may compromise or change course for personal gain, making control uncertain.
"In high contrast, you are very straightforward. Your mind is like clear water, not muddied by deceit or perfidiousness. You harbor no hidden agenda or duplicitous behavior or thoughts. One knows where you stand, how you will act based on your moral convictions, where your boundaries are. What you will do and will never do. In many ways, these characteristics make you easier to read- or control."
McCoy shook his head in disbelief. "Are you sayin' I'm more susceptable to being controlled because I'm predictable and boring?"
"You are not boring," Spock said calmly.
McCoy stared a minute, then laughed, the first genuine laughter he could remember in days.
"So what does this healing process entail?" McCoy's face darkened. "I won't have to re-live it, will I? I, uh, don't think I could do that..." His voice trailed off as the unwanted memory welled up inside.
Spock took a deep breath, knowing the hurdle had been passed.
"No. But you must show me. Afterward, I can begin the healing of the damaged conduit, which will fade the strength of the recollection. You will still remember, but the pain will lessen. You will need to learn some meditation techniques to facilitate the healing."
"When will we start?"
"We could begin now. I am prepared. You may lay on your bunk." Spock pulled a chair near. "Are you ready?"
McCoy took a shuddering breath and nodded. "Let's get it over with."
Spock reached for his face.
O
Spock was a little surprised that he was not at the familiar farmhouse. He walked into what appeared to be late afternoon on a hilltop amidst a stand of tall pine trees. It was still except for a faint breeze stirring the tree tops. It was the only sound. He began walking through the trees, which seemed to get unexpectedly dense quickly. "Leonard, are you here?"
He heard footsteps approach, soft on the bed of pine needles, but audible in the quiet. McCoy pushed a branch aside and was there.
"I believe you have something to show me?"
McCoy looked frightened, but resigned and determined. "Come on."
McCoy led the way. The woods were indeed growing closer together. Gnarled vines began to appear, reaching far up into the trees. Their tendrils resembled snakes hanging from the canopy. Soon the trees themselves were twisted and it was noticeably darker and turning cold.
They had walked some distance when they arrived at a tall hedge blocking their way. It was composed of thorny branches, intertwined, thick and impermeable.
"Here it is." McCoy's voice shook a little. He was pale and shivering.
"Where is the opening through the hedge?"
McCoy swallowed hard. "Look, Spock, let's go home. I couldn't stand it if something happened to you because of me."
Spock moved closer, standing a few inches away without touching him. "There is nothing Mirror Spock can do to me, Leonard. He is not here in my reality. I shall examine your memory of the event and that is all that will happen. In order to do so, you will need to let me have access to it." Spock paused. "The hedge is your construct, you have very effectively contained the memory behind it. That is one reason you have been able to cope with this by yourself for years. You should have had a Vulcan Healer as soon as one could be arranged."
Spock heard a creaking sound and turned to find an opening big enough to squeeze through. "Thank you. Wait here. I shall return shortly." He stepped through the hedge and onto the ISS Enterprise.
McCoy had Mirror Spock on the biobed, Scott was arguing that time was running out. "Come on, McCoy! We're taking a chance of not getting back home."
"We'll get home! This won't take long. Do you want me to stop, Jim? This will only take a minute."
"He is very much like our own Mister Spock, isn't he? You've got that minute."
Sulu and his men entered. Two men vanish, leaving Sulu alone, who was knocked unconscious after a short skirmish.
"Captain, we've barely got ten minutes!"
"Come on, Bones."
"I can't let him die, Jim. You get on to the transporter room. I'll be there in five minutes."
"No longer."
"I guarantee it. Now go on please."
He administered an injection, intent on the scanner readings. Mirror Spock's eyes opened under heavy lids, and he sat up with the swiftness of a striking snake, grabbing McCoy's arm in a vice grip.
"Why did the Captain let me live?"
Spock wondered that McCoy's arm didn't snap under the pressure as Mirror Spock backed him against the wall.
"Our minds are merging, Doctor. Our minds are one. I know what you know. I feel what you feel."
McCoy was glassy eyed and trembling when he was released. Mirror Spock roughly guided him to the transporter room, shoving him toward Scott. "Take him." There the memory ended.
Spock closed his eyes in revulsion, for a moment feeling physically ill. When he recovered, he started the process of subduing the memory. He began by forming a mental image of the whole, then tucking that image into an impenetrable membrane. When he finished, it resembled a virus, a basic sphere with numerous protrusions. The thing was malleable. He molded and shaped it until it was smooth and laid it on the deck plate. The memory was playing again, but now it seemed far away and indistinct, as if it was being viewed through a frosted glass. Spock nodded in satisfaction. The intervention should be enough, along with meditation, to remove or at least lessen one dark area in McCoy's brain. He returned to McCoy through the opening in the hedge.
McCoy greeted him anxiously. "Are you OK? What happened in there?"
"I am unharmed. I believe I have been successful in my task. Let us retrace our path back to the beginning of the forest."
They had gone a short distance when the cold dissipated and the trees seemed less foreboding. Before long, the pine woods were beginning to be bathed in golden afternoon light. By the time they climbed the knoll, he heard birdsong and the summer afternoon breeze was sighing through the tree tops, a gentle, inviting sound.
McCoy breathed deeply, the scent was clean and fresh. He looked around, his heart easing as the woods lost their menacing stature and were again just tall evergreens, without guile or malice.
"I don't know what you did, but I think it's working." He looked away briefly. "Anyway, I need to thank you for bringing me back from the cellar, and for this. Thank you, Spock. I have a strong notion this was more risky for you than you let on."
Spock bowed his head slightly. "I found any risk to be well within acceptable parameters. At any rate, leaving you stranded and alone was never an option, Leonard.. Are you ready to return?"
McCoy nodded, opening his eyes in his own cabin. Spock removed his fingers from the contact points, where they had touched felt cold and alive, a sensation that passed quickly.
Spock straightened and stood, assisting McCoy to sit up. "I do not think we will begin training in meditation this evening," he said. "If your state of health is tolerable, it would be good for you to rest. Sleep if you can. I shall see you in the morning."
McCoy nodded. "I feel all right."
"Very well. Good night, Doctor." He crossed the room to the door which opened to let him through.
"Spock?"
Spock turned, his form silhouetted against the corridor light. "Yes, Doctor?"
"Why do you call me Leonard in our melds?"
"I call you Leonard because it is your name." He stepped back, the door closing on any further discussion of the subject.
