Hello! Early AN here.
Many of you will probably have issues with my characterization in this chapter, and I feel I owe you guys a bit of an explanation/apology.
I'm still deeply struggling with the passing of my grandmother - and not for the reasons you'd expect. She and I never got along, and so much of me is broken up because I've great reason to believe that she hated me. My relationship with her is the source of the most deeply rooted pain in my soul, and it leaked into this chapter.
For the life of me, I can't bear to put it back.
I waver - I have for years - between loving her and hating her (is it possible to do both?). My beta pointed out that parts of this chapter hurt because they're true, and I can't deny that.
See, I want to collapse into numbness like Uhura gets to. I want to rage like Bones (boy, do I want to rage), and yet I want to grieve like Selek.
The problem is, with all that going on, I feel most like Sarek, sucked into emotional webs that I didn't ask for and can't avoid. My heart lies bloody at my feet, beating jerkily without my consent, mine, but not part of me.
So bear with me, because right now, this is the best I've got.
McCoy engaged the privacy lock on the door to Spock's room, turning around just in time to catch Uhura by the elbow as she swayed on her feet. Placing his other arm around her, he guided her into the main wing of the Medbay
"Lieutenant…Nyota," he said with uncharacteristic softness, "We just treated you for shock a few hours ago — I'd rather not have to treat you for exhaustion too. I want you to lie down for a bit, all right?"
She started to protest, but McCoy pushed her onto a bio-bed and waved a finger in her face, his brow drawn into a concerned frown. "Don't argue; I'll wake you up as soon as anything changes, I promise."
She nodded, slipping off her boots and pulling up her legs. As she lay her head on the pillow, McCoy turned off the bed's sensors and covered her with the blanket folded by her feet, tucking her in like a small child. He patted her on the arm, making sure to pull a privacy curtain around the bed and dim the light over her unit — lights.
He'd forgotten to dim Jim's lights.
McCoy mentally kicked himself; Jim was overly sensitive to light — a common enough issue in light-eyed people, of which Jim was an exceptional case — and so McCoy generally left the lights above his bed no higher than sixty percent. He headed for the ICU where Jim lay, ignoring the Spock-like voice in his head reminding him that Jim could no longer care about the light levels, let alone complain.
The sight that greeted him upon entering the room turned his mild self-flagellation into blazing fury; the lights had been lowered — by none other than the bastard who'd caused all McCoy's troubles in the first place.
The doctor turned to the orderly hovering in the corner of the room, narrowing his eyes as he recognized the man he'd specifically ordered to keep this particular Vulcan out of his goddamn Medbay.
"I told you not to let this one in, did I not?" He snarled, jabbing an accusing finger in Selek's direction. The orderly quailed.
"S-sir—"
"Consider yourself on report, and get the Hell out of my Medbay!" The officer fled, leaving the Ambassador to McCoy's wrath. Selek turned slowly, fixing his chocolate eyes on the doctor.
"It may have been presumptuous, however, I altered the lighting in this room," he began. "My Jim—"
"THIS ISN'T YOUR JIM!" McCoy shouted. "Your Jim lived, didn't he? He survived this mess somehow, am I right, Selek?" He drawled the name, using his accent and his anger to sully the sounds as best he could. This Vulcan may have been Spock first, but he wasn't worthy enough to lick Spock's boots, as far as McCoy was concerned, and he wanted to be sure the other knew it.
"The McCoy of my time intervened," Selek replied, the lines around his eyes deepening. "During a pause in the duel between Jim and myself, he administered what he claimed was a Tri-Ox compound to Jim, in the guise of aiding his ability to breathe the Vulcan atmosphere. It was, in reality, a neuro-paralyzer, which quickly forced Jim into a state of simulated death."
"Good God, man — no wonder you kept looking at me like I was supposed to do something!" McCoy dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his palms over the scratchy evidence of the many hours he'd gone between doing normal things like resting and shaving. His shoulders trembled, and he pulled himself together swiftly, not wanting this sorry excuse for Spock to see him distressed.
"Damn it, do you see what you could've prevented by telling us about this in the first place?! Or at least Spock, if not all of us? Jim's allergic to neuro-paralyzers; that's not even supposed to be possible, but I did the tests on his blood myself — and since the Khan debacle, his auto-immune responses have been even more volatile than before!" McCoy threw his arms in the air, his face turning red as he worked himself into a frenzy. "I had a better chance of putting down Spock than Jim down there, you idiot — and what was your McCoy doing with a neuro-fucking-paralyzer in his medkit on that kind of mission anyway!? That's not a standard drug in any kit that I've ever heard of!"
Selek stepped forward, holding his hands up, palms out, trying to forestall McCoy before his tirade went further.
"I understand your grief, and I grieve with thee," he said softly, the lines around his eyes crevasses of sorrow. "I could not in good conscience interfere; even now, I stand by my decision as I made it — though, had I to do it again, knowing the outcome, I am uncertain that I could resist warning you."
McCoy laughed lowly, the sound empty of all humor.
"Too little, too late," he said roughly. "Jim's brain-dead and Spock is going to die. I hold you personally responsible, and don't think that Starfleet and everyone else won't hear about it! You drove the best damn First Officer in the fucking Fleet to suicide — not even the loss of his mother and his whole goddamn planet damaged him so much, and all you can say is that if you could do it differently you might!?"
Selek's head snapped up from where it had been bowed under the force of McCoy's rage.
"I know Spock's grief," he intoned, dark eyes boring into the doctor's. "When I thought I had killed my Jim, my human half broke, but my Vulcan half shattered. It was the antithesis of all that I had come to be, the act of murdering my best friend, the man to whom I had pledged my loyalty. All my logic, all my control had failed me, and I also intended to take my own life. Had my Captain not been alive in Sickbay where I found Leonard and requested him to make final arrangements for Jim, I would not have lived past that day. I told T'Pau as much; that I intended to neither live long, nor prosper."
The flare of emotion in Selek's eyes burned with the hurt coloring his words, and McCoy felt the slightest bit chastised — which only enraged him further.
"I wish you had died, bastard. I wish you'd ended yourself, because then you never would've fucked up so bad that our Vulcan got sucked into a black hole and the two best men I've ever met are slipping through my fingers.
"Now; Get out of my Medbay."
Selek left without another word, casting a sad glance at Jim before he slipped through the door, closing it softly behind him.
McCoy's legs trembled as the adrenaline fled his system, and he collapsed onto the bed by Jim's feet, shaking. Already he regret his words to the old Vulcan, yet at the same time, he felt justified in saying them. Just because they weren't kind, didn't mean that they weren't true.
The door opened again and he tensed, ready to do battle with the old Vulcan once more, but the smooth baritone of M'Benga's voice reached his ears.
"Sarek says he's ready to meld with the Captain," the other doctor said. McCoy nodded absently.
"How do you feel about being CMO on the flagship, Geoff?" He asked after a moment.
M'Benga stepped closer, his brow furrowed.
"Leonard?"
McCoy sighed deeply.
"Jim's not coming out of this one," he said sadly. "And he's got nobody else, you know? Just us, just this crew. Just me." He raised reddening eyes to his co-worker, hands gripped firmly on his knees. "He'll need long-term care, and I'm going to give it to him."
"Leonard…Len…you can't just give up your commission."
"Geoff, I came out here for Jim. I followed Jim out into the black, and nobody else, for no other reason than to keep his fool ass safe. I failed in that, and this is the least I can do for him.
"There's nothing out here for me, not without Jim."
M'Benga put a hand on McCoy's shoulder, squeezing gently.
"You know I'd take great care of the Enterprise and her crew for you, Len," he said, "but it won't come to that. You'll see."
McCoy patted the younger man's hand.
"I hope you're right, Geoff. I hope to God you're right."
TO BE CONTINUED