Spock had expected more resistance; the usual I know I need to make this right so let's do it this very second, Spock that the Vulcan had come to expect from his friend.
Instead, Jim had gotten caught up in work on the bridge, and that was just as well. Spock had been silently hoping for some time to talk with the doctor.
Alone.
Some things Jim simply didn't need to know. Not just yet.
McCoy had been correct in his predictions: the guilt on Jim's face had almost been too much to bear and it had taken Spock a considerable amount of time to convince the captain that none of it was his fault.
He still wasn't certain Jim believed him...
While he couldn't fault his friend for the actions of another, Spock couldn't help but come back to the fact that this all could have been avoided if McCoy had simply gone back to the ship as he had requested in the beginning.
Dwelling on the past will change nothing.
Spock took a breath as he approached the doctor's office. Only by focusing on the present could he hope to fix the outcome of the future.
"Spock." Jim had massaged his forehead, that vain, age-old human method of trying to shove away the pain. "This really isn't the time for jokes."
"Do I look like I'm laughing, Jim? These beings have been deceiving us from the very beginning..."
He knocked on the door with only minor hesitation, hoping the doctor was in because Spock was running out of options. McCoy's quarters hadn't been touched since their initial departure and he most certainly wasn't lingering on the bridge—what would be the point without Jim or himself being there?
"Spock, I think you'd better start at the beginning..."
"That is what I'm attempting to do."
"If it's one of the Cursioans slipping back into critical condition, then make your knock sound more urgent next time and I'll be right there." The doctor's muffled tones sounded the slightest bit strained. "If it's literally anything else, go find Chris."
"I don't get it. Why didn't he tell me? I'm... I'm his best friend!"
"I believe he kept it a secret for this very reason."
"What reason?"
"Your overreaction."
"I'm not—! I'm not overreacting. I'm... concerned. Wait, how did you find out, then? If he was trying to keep it a secret?"
"The doctor also did not want to ruin our mission."
"Spock, you're avoiding the question..."
"Doctor McCoy, do you have a few minutes?"
The dull thud that sounded behind the door was a bit concerning, but McCoy's voice filled the empty space before Spock could think much about it.
"Spock!" Seconds later, the door slid open to reveal a very haggard, very pale Leonard McCoy. "You're back! Is Jim back, too? Is everything all sorted out? Did we—?"
The wince stole away the last of McCoy's words, causing Spock's furrowed brows to deepen.
"Negotiations are at a standstill for the moment; an agreed upon pause by both parties, if you will."
McCoy bit out a soft curse. "Right. Because it'd be too good to be true for it all to be over with, now wouldn't it? Well, keep me updated, I guess."
As McCoy went to retreat back into the small office, Spock held the door.
"Look, if you have a medical issue, talk to Nurse Chapel. I'm busy."
"Doctor, I have something to discuss with you. It won't take long."
"Then make an appointment like everyone else, Spock, I'm serious. I'm—" Though the doctor was quick to bite his lip, he wasn't fast enough to hide the sharp gasp.
The sharp gasp of pain.
"Please, Leonard. It's important."
This seemed to break McCoy at last and he heaved a sigh. "Fine. Fine, come on in..."
Spock didn't sit, even though the doctor beckoned him toward the couch. He simply stood and watched McCoy jam a hypospray into his shoulder.
"Headache," was the only explanation offered. "So, you said it wouldn't take long?" And why did it seem like McCoy was using every ounce of his strength just to hold himself together...?
"I spoke with Jim." A knowing look filled the doctor's eyes, so Spock pressed forward. "He reacted exactly as you had predicted."
"'Course, he did..."
"I'm sure he'll want to confer with you as soon as he can, however, that is not the reason I'm here." McCoy merely arched a brow. "I... also spoke with Theon."
Whatever comeback Spock had been expecting did not prepare him for the small, hesitant, "Okay..."
Spock took a breath. "There were certain things that needed his clarification. Doctor, I'll make this easier for both of us and cut right to the point: he saw what occured in the Mirror Universe."
A soft damn filled the room as Leonard shut his eyes. The silence that followed began to eat Spock alive, so he clasped his hands tightly behind his back.
A plethora of far more logical sentences swirled in his mind. What came out, however, was a gentle, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"It..." The breath Leonard sucked in held the slightest tremble. "It wasn't important."
"To say so is to degrade yourself and your own importance."
The shrug Leonard gave reminded Spock more of a shiver. "I figured I could get over it, work through it on my own... And I was doing fine until..."
Theon.
"Were you?"
Only when the doctor's head snapped up did Spock realize he'd been staring at the floor all this time.
"What?"
"'Doing fine.' Were you, really, Leonard?"
"Well, I would've been," came McCoy's sudden hiss, his eyes narrowing in that familiar pattern of defense, "if that damn Cursioan hadn't gone and ruined everything!"
"Doctor, to force a mind meld on someone is a capital offense on Vulcan, punishable by death due to its abominable nature. Some victims have had their minds deteriorate because of it—because they did not seek help when it happened."
"Damn it! Nobody forced anything on me, do you understand? I knew exactly what I was in for if I stayed behind with that other lSpock, but I couldn't just let him die!"
"Did you?"
"No, of course I didn't let him die, are you even listening?"
"No, Leonard, did you know that would happen if you stayed?"
"I had some idea he might try something, but..." Deflating a bit, McCoy shook his head. "No, I never expected that."
"Did he ask your permission before going inside your head?"
A heavy sigh mixed well with the overly exaggerated eye roll in typical McCoy fashion "No, Spock."
"Did he restrain you?"
Another shiver had McCoy wrapping his arms about his chest. "I don't want to talk about this."
Spock's eyes softened, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if McCoy were some sort of frightened animal. "A forced mind meld—and you cannot deny that is what it was—must be treated, otherwise you are putting yourself in danger needlessly."
"I'm putting myself in danger?" To his surprise, the doctor laughed. "Look, I'm not the one who asked for this. I'm not the one who thought it'd be fun and interesting to tear my psyche apart! I'm just trying to fix it the best way I know how and that's—"
The pained cry came mere seconds before the doctor's knees buckled.
Which meant Spock had mere seconds to catch his friend.
"Leonard! What—?" Hands firmly gripping the doctor's arms, Spock lowered his patient to the floor.
"Just a headache," McCoy snapped, but his voice lacked all of its usual bite. "Just a... Aw, hell, Spock!" Gripping at his head and digging his fingers into his skull, McCoy squeezed his eyes shut. For a long moment, only the sound of his heavy breathing filled the room. "I... I tried using the... the painkillers. The kind we use after... damn!" As he held his head tighter, Spock fought to get his lungs working again. "After surgery, but they haven't been working... Spock, why aren't they working? What's... What's wrong with me...?"
"Leonard." The pace of Spock's words matched the rapid beating of his heart. "Both you and I know this isn't a normal migraine. It cannot be numbed by any sort of medicine."
"Then I'm screwed, is that it?"
"What I'm about to suggest is going to sound repulsive to you," Spock barrelled on, "but you must move past your immediate reaction and hear the logic of what I'm saying. With your permission, I need to meld with your mind."
"No!" McCoy's initial response was one Spock could have predicted word-for-word. "No, are you insane? That's what got me into this mess in the first pl—agh!"
"Leonard, listen! I do not know what is happening to your mind and the only way to find out is to perform a meld."
"No way in hell!"
"I would never do it without your full consent and if there were any other way, I would do it in a proverbial heartbeat, but we have to act quickly while you're still conscious."
"While I'm still conscious? Spock, what the hell are you talking about?" The doctor's eyes were wide now and Spock could see in them McCoy's weakening resolve.
"I don't know what's happening to your mind," Spock repeated, "however, from what I know of certain forced melds in Vulcan's ancient history, there is a chance that whatever is happening could make you lose consciousness—with an even greater chance that you might not wake up again."
And Spock had thought McCoy's eyes couldn't get any wider…
"Fine!" he choked out on a strangled gasp. "If you're gonna do it, get it over with already!"
Calming his own mind enough to concentrate, Spock shifted until he was kneeling in front of the doctor, their knees barely touching.
Only, when he reached forward an outstretched palm, McCoy flinched away. Spock couldn't find it in him to be even the least bit surprised.
"Leonard, I promise, I will not harm you."
"Right," the doctor gulped, "right, I know that… I—" Grinding his teeth against the pain, he grabbed Spock's hand. "Just do it, before I change my mind."
With a nod, Spock tried once more. The instant the tips of his fingers brushed against McCoy's skin, the latter jolted, yet before he could jerk away again, Spock felt the doctor snatch up his other hand. Placing Spock's hand on his shoulder, McCoy then latched his own hands on Spock's shoulders, no doubt bracing himself against his body's instinct to flee.
"My mind to your mind," Spock breathed, doing everything in his power to ignore the doctor's violent shivering. "My thoughts to your thoughts..."
The first thing he noticed upon entering McCoy's mind was that he couldn't. He was inside, and yet he wasn't. The fog of memories and pain was thicker than anything Spock had ever seen and it took a great deal of effort to traverse through it.
"Get out of my mind!"
The shout reverberated through the dark swirl of color. Every few seconds, stabs of agony would light up the darkness, reflecting off jagged pieces of a shattered psyche.
"Get. Out."
"Leonard..." Spock's voice echoed louder than a thousand claps of thunder. Everything—every sound, every light, every lost memory—was amplified tenfold; heightened to the point of madness. "I will be quick, I promise."
"Why did the captain let me live...?"
This was a different voice. If Spock hadn't so keenly felt the tight line of his pursed lips, he would have second-guessed as to whether he had unknowingly spoken the foreign question.
"Our minds are as one, Doctor." The coldness of a voice that was yet wasn't his own chilled Spock to the bone. Flashes of memory threatened to distract him. If he could only see for himself... If he could only see first-hand what truly happened—
No! Shoving forward through the fog, Spock fixed his mind on the task at hand.
"I know what you know... I feel what you feel..."
"It would not aid the efforts of your Federation should any word of what has happened travel beyond this room..."
Focus. Focus. He needed to focus...
The longer he worked, the more time shifted into something abstract—a blur by which he couldn't measure anything and a fuzz that radiated nothing but confusion.
"Just a little longer, Leonard... I promise—"
"Two worlds in one mind..."
"This isn't what normal brain activity is supposed to look like, is it, Doctor McCoy?"
"Doctor, I promise, I'm almost—"
"Doctor, can you hear me?"
The Cursioans voice continued to bite into Spock's skin like a sehlat, driving thick fangs through his heart. He could only imagine what it had been doing to Leonard all this time.
"A string of mirrors that don't align..."
Align... Spock took a breath. Align, align, align.
"Your mind... Tell me, how long has it been in such turmoil...?"
Align, align…
"Get."
Align, align, ali—
"Out!"
Spock felt all the air escape his lung as he tumbled backward with a gasp, mind spinning and heart racing.
It took him a moment longer than necessary to bring the doctor's office into focus.
More than a foot away now knelt McCoy, doubled over and struggling for a breath as if his very life depended on it.
Perhaps it did.
"Spock, you have to... to..."
"Leonard...?"
"P-Please, just... j-just..."
"Are you—?" A quick hand to his temple did nothing to soothe the sudden dizziness.
"Spock!"
"What—?" McCoy choked on a gasp, an arm wrapped around his stomach. "What h-happened? Did you... D-Did you do it—gah!"
Spock was shaking his head before the doctor had even finished, his mind still reeling from the experience. "I fixed what I could... Tried to reverse the damage done by my counterpart, but..."
"But what, Spock? Why does my head still feel like someone's raking their claws through it? What happened?"
"Your mind, it..." Spock blinked as the sudden realization came to him like a Klingon bat'leth to the heart. "It repelled me, it... threw me out."
"What?"
"The majority of the damage, the pain you are experiencing right now..." Spock swallowed, willing his voice not to tremble. "Your mind won't let me fix it, it won't—"
"Spock, you have to help me, I can't—"
I am trying...
"I can't... I need... Spock, I need you to... t-to help me clear my mind."
Neither spoke, the doctor still doubled over, wrestling with the cloud of pain that was now only a distant memory for Spock.
And Spock, wrestling with his own failure.
That should have worked.
"I-I tried and it's not… it's not working. Spock—"
That should have…
"Spock." Leonard's voice was but a shallow whisper.
"—Show me how to shut off my emotions."
I…
"What… What do we do now…?"
"You have t-to show me."
I...
"Spock...?"
"There has t-to be a way to..."
I don't...
"... to... t-to—"
Sucking in stale breath, Spock reached out and placed a hand on his friend's arm. Instead of flinching like before, Leonard relaxed the slightest bit.
Both their breathing came easier over the next few minutes, neither speaking.
They didn't have to.
"It..." Leonard heaved a sigh after what must have been hours—time was still elusive as Spock fought to reorient himself. Perhaps only a few minutes…? "It's not gonna stop, is it? The pain...?"
"I... don't know." For as long he could remember, those three words had given Spock endless agony. Not only was he a Vulcan, but he was a graduate of the finest science academy in all of Starfleet—in possibly the whole galaxy.
And he was brilliant. It wasn't a boast, it was a fact. There should never have been a time when he simply didn't know.
Especially not when his friend's life hung in the balance.
When perhaps the greatest medical mind depended on his own ability to problem solve.
To be brilliant.
"I don't know," Spock amended, "however, I do have a hunch."
Instead of inquiring about said hunch, the doctor glanced up, eyes nothing but blue pools of pain.
"Did you tell Jim? About... About the mirror... mirror stuff?"
Spock shook his head, earning a sigh of relief from Leonard.
"Good."
"However..."
"Damn."
"I think we should."
"No." Leonard gave a vigorous shake of his head, eyelids drooping as the pain brought with it a new enemy: fatigue. "No, he believed in that damn Mirror Spock. It would kill him if he found out."
"Leonard, it's killing you."
The door slid open behind them and only then did Spock regret not considering a lock.
"Bones, are you—Oh my gosh!" Seconds later, another swoosh signaled the barring of the office once more.
Another couple of seconds had Jim kneeling on the floor beside them.
"What happened? What's wrong? Bones, are you—?"
"Shut up, Jim." Leonard's voice fell incredibly short of its desired growl, resembling more of a slur than anything. "'M fine."
"Bull. Spock, what's—?"
"Jim!" Spock's warning came just in time and the captain, being the closer of the two, was able to catch Leonard as he toppled forward.
"'M not..." The doctor twitched, slowly melting against Jim's folded legs. "Not… crazy, Jim… I swear, 'm not…"
"I know," Jim whispered, running a gentle hand through Leonard's hair and brushing it off his sweat-soaked forehead. "I know, Bones. You're gonna be all right."
"It's just the... the damn voices," Leonard mumbled as his eyes slipped closed. "They won't... won't shut up... They..."
"Spock," Jim said when it became clear the doctor had either lost consciousness or was too tired to be responsive any longer. "Talk to me. What happened?"
Mouth suddenly dry, all Spock could do was shake his head.
"Will he... Is he going to be okay?"
I don't know.
"Yes, I believe so." The bitter lie stained his tongue and cut him to the core, though it made Jim visibly relax.
Spock curled a fist, unable to look away from Leonard's limp form.
Damned to the Seventh Circle of Hell whoever first uttered the words Vulcans cannotlie.
