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I was so overjoyed after reading all the reviews that it jump-started my muse. So here's an early update.

Chapter 6: Splintering Headaches

Doctor McCoy's Office in Sickbay

We hurriedly follow the nurse into Bones' office before the doors shut on us. The nurse merely drops off a file on the doctor's desk before quietly slipping out of the room. Meanwhile, Dr. McCoy is sound asleep with his head resting on his folded arms.

I see grief flash in Jim's bright blue eyes as they fixate on the doctor's tear-stained cheeks. I have discovered that Jim has an innately strong will, one that allows him to be more resistant to his human emotions. As a Vulcan, I consider this one of Jim's most admirable traits. While I provide the Captain with logical reasoning, I have found that Doctor McCoy can provide a completely different perspective based on human compassion. I may not agree with the doctor on many decisions (actually, I have never agreed with Dr. McCoy unless it regards the Captain's health or safety), but I have found that his points do have merit. The Captain, however, has the ability to process both our suggestions and make an informed decision on both the logical and the human level. This makes him a far better Captain than I could ever be.

Jim silently gestures for me to initiate the mind meld. I am tempted to inform him that he can speak aloud because Dr. McCoy cannot hear us, but then I decide not to. I have found that pretending can help humans cope with their emotion turmoil.

I move around the desk until I am hovering behind the doctor. I hesitate before carefully placing my fingers on the meld points. My hands, however, slip through him as if through air. I glance over at Jim to find worry brimming in his blue eyes. I lift my hands and try to place them exactly where they should be if McCoy's body were a solid in this dimension. I then close my eyes and forget my surroundings while maintaining meditative breathing. I attempt to harness all my energy and thought into diligently building and shaping a connection with the doctor.

At first, I sense that our plan has floundered as I fail to grasp any mental pathways, but then suddenly, I can feel the distant distinction of thought brushing gently against my mind. It is a different feeling than any of my previous mind melds, but at least it is working.

I can hear thoughts, but they are barely above whispers and are overwhelmed by various conflicting emotions. I sense the blurred tints of memories and the random split-second neural reactions that produce dreams. Now all I have to do is focus on the distant thoughts until I have the ability to move with them and follow the chains of reactions that characterize McCoy's sleep-induced mind.

It takes a great deal of sorting and many dead ends for me to finally master the inner-workings of McCoy's mind (this is not surprising considering that the doctor and I are polar opposites in almost every respect). I begin to find my way through his subconscious and into his current dreams. I then carefully interrupt the neural pathway in charge of processing his new memories and use my own mind to fill in the gaps.

Then, using my own mind I create a familiar room and reinstate an image of myself from which I can operate. McCoy's mind then supplements the same, now working in accordance with mine.

Suddenly the doctor is standing right in front of me with a grim expression.

"Dr. McCoy," I greet. McCoy's eyebrows furrow into an angry frown, one I know all too well.

"Dammit, Spock! I can't even mourn in peace without you haunting my dreams!" He exclaims angrily. I attempt to reply, but my mind is drawn away by the suddenness of Jim's voice.

"Is it working?" Jim's voice sounds closer than it should.

"Yes," I reply.

"You see him?"

"Yes."

"This is unfair. I want to see him!" I can imagine a pout stretching across Jim's face. Then, 2.3 seconds later, that exact pout appears right in front of me. I stare perplexed at the figure of Jim.

"How did you-?" Jim looks around, just as surprised as I am. He then stares at me, looking guilty.

"I just touched your hand and then… here I am." He explains sheepishly. I can feel a flush steadily creeping up my cheeks.

"You… are touching my hand?" I ask, trying to maintain my composure at the thought of Jim's hand caressing mine. After all, Jim is probably unaware of the significance of such a gesture. "The mind meld must blur the lines between our two dimensions to such an extent that you are capable of moving through mental barriers." I purposefully neglect to tell Jim that this phenomenon could only be possible if Jim's mind is considerably compatible with mine. The line can only blur like this if his mind can follow the same mental pathways that I created. Jim lifts his eyebrows.

"Cool." He remarks simply, looking around the room I formed.

"Sickbay?" He asks curiously, clearly not anticipating that the inside of McCoy's mind would look like the Enterprise.

"I thought it would be more suitable than the empty void of deep sleep," I explain.

"Yeah, I guess-" Jim stops mid-sentence as his gaze settles on Dr. McCoy, who is staring at Jim with disbelief. "Bones." Jim says softly. "Bones!" Then without warning, Jim rushes toward the doctor and wraps his arms around him in a strong embrace. For a moment I think he may never let go.

"Jim?" The doctor manages to ask, his eyes wide. "My mind hates me," he mutters, misery seeping into his every word. His head sinks into Jim's shoulder.

"I've missed you, Bones! Sure, it's only been a few hours, but hell, I thought I'd never see you again!" Jim exclaims, pulling away so he can look McCoy in the eyes. "Well, that you would never see me again." He corrects. Dr. McCoy does not seem pleased. Instead, grief glistens in his brown eyes as they dart from Jim to me in a panicked manner.

"You two are dead." He states solemnly. "You both died in the explosion."

"No, we didn't. That's why we're here!" Jim explains, shaking the doctor slightly.

"I'm dreaming," Bones says quietly. Jim hesitates and tilts his head back and forth.

"Well… yes and no." Jim explains. "Bones… we're alive. We're just trapped in another dimension." McCoy laughs bitterly.

"Just another dimension, huh?" He stares at Jim like he's an apparition. "I must be going nuts. I always knew you'd be the cause of my permanent insanity." His gaze drifts towards me. "You and that hobgoblin."

"The Captain is telling the truth. We are not dead. We are able to see you, but you cannot see us." As soon as the final word escapes my lips, I immediately regret speaking. A spasm jolts through my temple and incites a splintering headache.

"This is the only way we can reach you." Jim continues hopefully. We must convince Dr. McCoy that we are alive.

"This?" McCoy questions.

"A mind meld." The doctor stares at Jim as grief begins to reappear in the depth of his eyes.

"Please stop this. I beg you, Jim." Jim gives McCoy a pleading look before glancing uncertainly at me. Then, out of desperation, Jim grabs McCoy's hand and places it on his chest.

"Feel this." Jim orders hastily. "I have a heartbeat. How can I be dead if I have a heartbeat?" McCoy struggles with a reply.

"Because… because this is just a dream and my subconscious hates me."

"Please, Bones. You have to believe me. This is real!" Jim begs, shaking the man's shoulders impatiently. "They couldn't find our bodies, Bones! That's because we're not dead. You just can't see us." The doctor stares, paralyzed by the plea in Jim's eyes. I too find myself paralyzed, but for a different reason entirely. I am suddenly becoming more and more tired with every passing moment and my headache refuses to cease.

"Okay… it's nonsense, but okay… let's say I believe it… that you two are alive, but have somehow been transported into another dimension." McCoy says uncertainly. "What can I do about it?" Jim smiles optimistically.

"We're alive, but… we're injured…" Jim glances back at me. "Spock's hurt pretty bad."

"And how do you suppose I should go about healing ghosts?" McCoy grunts with his usual charm.

"Just tell us what to do," Jim reasons.

"You would need medicine, bandages…"

"We can touch things in the engine room… maybe… maybe if you bring the supplies there the radiation will allow us to use them." I lift an eyebrow, impressed and intrigued by Jim's sudden flash of brilliance.

"That's a bit far-fetched," McCoy comments.

"This whole situation is far-fetched! Examine us here, explain what we can do to tend to our injuries, and when you awake, go to the engine room and leave out the supplies we need." The doctor still does not seem convinced. "You're our only chance, Bones." Dr. McCoy's gaze strays towards me.

"Come here." I pause a moment as my scattered mind tries to piece together the meaning of those two words. I can see Jim's countenance begin to reveal concern.

"Jim requires-"

"You first," McCoy orders impatiently. "You've been unusually quiet, which normally means you're focusing on controlling an emotion. I'm going to take a leap here and assume you're in pain." I want to answer, but decide that it is less painful to just accept the doctor's order. I slowly move towards him, not entirely aware of my own actions. My sense of self and control is beginning to slip like water through my fingertips. I sit down on one of the Sickbay beds, but as soon as I get there I notice that I can't recall the walk over to it.

Meanwhile, Jim and McCoy surround me, both appraising me with examining looks. Suddenly a tricorder appears our of thin air, most likely a result of McCoy's mental insistence.

"Convenient." He comments, impressed by his control over this dream-like vision. He begins to scan me. I can feel my eyelids longing to flutter close.

"What should I tell Scotty? That you two came to me in a dream?" McCoy asks, still unsure of what Jim has told him.

"I don't know yet." Jim confesses. "All I know is that it won't matter if we don't find a way to heal ourselves." McCoy examines the readings on his tricorder and turns his gaze back to me.

"You took quite a beating, but most of your injuries are relatively minor. Your head worries me though."

"Is he going to be okay?" Jim sounds concerned. I suddenly realize that my eyes have drifted closed. I have to use all my will power to pry them open again. Now, McCoy mirrors Jim's concerned expression.

"I could fix this, Jim." McCoy admits solemnly.

"Just show me what to do." Jim states confidently. I begin to see black dots at the periphery of my vision and my breathing begins to slow. McCoy looks up at the ceiling as the lights begin to weaken.

"Jim… the lights are dimming." McCoy points out. Jim immediately turns to me.

"Spock?" I feel a firm hand grasp my shoulder. A strange emotion begins to circulate through my veins as my vision begins to fade and my eyelids begin to droop. I feel… guilty. I feel as if I have failed my Captain.

"My apologies… I am finding it… hard to maintain…" My eyes close by their own will. My guilt begins to morph into an emotion akin to terror. I am being engulfed by my greatest fear; I am loosing control over my mind and emotions. Thankfully, unconsciousness is mere seconds away. I can faintly hear Jim's voice calling my name.

"Spock."

"You're fading." McCoy says.

"Spock!" I am forced to let go of my mind as I feel myself collapse into a pair of strong arms.

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