A/N: Updates at the end of chapter

"What the Hell is that?" McCoy snapped, fear in his voice. He didn't look at Spock as he began to fasten a heavy, thick metal cuff to his wrist. The weight of it pressed down on McCoy's thin wrist when Spock let go. It was cold and pressed on the bruises that were already there. There was a small window showing digital lights going off randomly. That same ominous Imperial symbol had been etched right onto the metal, giving the cuff a very impersonal sort of feel, as if this were just a tag to help catalog him.

"I was going to wait to put this on you," Spock said, focused on entering something into the pad on the cuff. "But you will need it, to help you adjust."

McCoy was sitting on the medical bed, Spock standing close to him. When he was finished entering in the data, he clasped his hands behind his back and regarded him with a clinical interest. It unnerved McCoy to see subtle similarities, like the way he was standing. There were a few obvious differences already, but he wondered just how much would end up being the same.

But he was more concerned with the cuff. He didn't need to ask any more questions to understand exactly what this was. Finally bringing his eyes to Spock, he growled, "I'll find a way to take this damn thing off! I don't know what you saw in me that makes you think I'm some kind of-some kind of wimpy dog, but I'm not the type to just roll over and-"

"That's quite enough, Doctor," Spock said, raising his hand in a dismissive gesture. McCoy felt a pang of shame that he could have been interrupted so easily; he felt so brave and passionate in his protests, but trailed off into silence as soon as Spock told him to stop. He glared at Spock hatefully.

But Spock continued, "Only I can remove this, as it is under a code release. You will only injure yourself if you attempt to remove it."

"What the fuck is it for?" McCoy yelled. Already he was clawing at it, more out of compulsion than any hope to break it.

Spock took the cuffed hand in his, pulling McCoy off the bed and closer to himself. McCoy half expected the other to touch him, or otherwise take advantage of his obvious weakness. That's what he wanted with him, right? But Spock made no such moves. While he was very close to him and held his hand tightly, there was no warmth in the hold. If there were lust in Spock's eyes, McCoy was not looking at them to tell. Instead Spock kept his right hand at his hip, resting casually on his phaser, more out of habit than as a threat. "The device holds several purposes," he said, his voice bland, as if giving a lecture. Just hearing it gave McCoy a surge of homesickness, an ache to be back with his friends. "One, it will deliver an electric shock if you remove yourself from the radius I program into it, and the shocks will increase if repeated. Two, this acts as your protection against enemies aboard the ship. Anyone who sees this will know that you are under my protection."

McCoy tugged his hand free. Of course, he realized that he only got it free because Spock had let go, and he was now leading him out of Sickbay by the elbow. He found it hard to keep up, although Spock did not walk too fast. It was impossible to form complete thoughts, as if all he had room for in his mind were raw emotions, the violent need to wake up from this nightmare.

"That's not all it's for, is it?" he growled, and found he couldn't look Spock in the eye. Where this man would have been his friend in one world, he was barely even human in this one.

"Explain," Spock said, his voice light. He ignored a crew member that saluted him as he passed.

"This is more than what you said," he said, energy building up in his voice, and he looked at Spock this time. It drove him near to hysteria that the Vulcan seemed not to care. His blank expression only made McCoy feel even less important. "This-" he clenched his fist and glared at the blinking, bulky cuff.

"Yes?" Spock urged.

"This makes me look like I'm you're slave!" He felt sick as he watched Spock's lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile and his eyes glow. He felt his face pale, and by now Spock was partly holding him up by the arm as well as leading him down the passage way. "Well?" he demanded, not sure what he expected the man to say.

"The one before you nearly scratched my eye out when I tried to put that on him," he said, and then gave McCoy a hearty, wolfish smile that was shocking in itself. As stressed as McCoy was, he still had the natural curiosity to wonder about the way this Spock had been conducting himself. But even with the random emotional flares, Spock still came off as a heartless, inhuman being. "But all that's in the past," he added.

A sudden panic overtook him, and he stopped. When Spock turned, a quizzical look quickly turning to a glare on his face, McCoy hurled himself against him, shoving him against the wall. Already Spock started to grab him, but McCoy was not planning on running; he had nowhere to go anyway. Instead, he clawed at Spock's shirt, latching onto his arm with one hand and his shoulder with the other, and closed his eyes. He focused everything he had on his thoughts, forming them into sentences repeated in his head, his lips moving slightly.

/Let me go/

/Fuck you/

/Have no right/

/Don't belong here/

/Want to go home/

/Take me back/

/Evil, half-breed Devil/

/I WANT TO GO HOME/

He was shaking and grunting from the effort, forcing out those thoughts. Along with the words, he focused hard on his distress, and felt he could push every negative, painful, raw emotion out and into Spock. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, nor had he ever done anything like this before, but soon the task was consuming him. It was agony, it was blinding, but it was working.

He managed to hear Spock cry out amidst the chaos of his own raging mind and felt Spock's fingers dig deep into his arms. Although McCoy felt this ordeal to have lagged for hours, in reality it had only gone on for just under a minute. Spock pulled himself from the trance and slammed McCoy into the wall. Exhausted from the mental attack, McCoy crumpled. Spock held him still as he sagged in his arms. His shoulder was numb from the crash into the wall. Stunned, he didn't feel Spock choking him at first.

"Doctor," Spock hissed, pressing McCoy's throat almost closed. He was baring his teeth, his eyes were wild. McCoy had always wondered of the strength, the ferocity of his Vulcan friend if it were unchanneled; well now he was face to face with it. "You must learn to control your emotions in my presence." Spock was fighting to keep his voice level, McCoy could tell, even as he began to lose consciousness.

Spock let go before he could, but took a tight grip of his hair, yanking him closer by it. His free hand was closed in a tight fist, trembling at his side. "If it were your intention to hurt me, Doctor, you have succeeded," he growled, tightening his grip and pulling the doctor's hair roughly. Out of the corner of his eye McCoy noticed a few people walk by, but casually, as if they didn't notice what was happening. "But purge the idea from your mind that you can possibly control me in such a way," he said. He let go to backhand McCoy, sending him to the floor. Tasting blood in his mouth, McCoy remained on the floor and wouldn't look up.

So Spock crouched and glared right at him. He might not have been looking at Spock, but he could feel the man's eyes burning through him. When he spoke now, it was in a tense whisper. "I will remember to shield myself against any future attacks from you. Such a shame I can't trust you."

Wheezing slightly, McCoy drawled sourly, "I'm never gonna be whatever it is you want me to be, you demon. So you can either send me back, or kill me."

Spock's eyes narrowed. "You can't go back-"

"You mean you won't send me back, you pointy-eared-"

"No, I mean that you cannot return," Spock interrupted. He pulled McCoy to his feet, ignoring his groan from the sudden movement. McCoy stared back at him with half-lidded eyes, blood trickling down his lip. "We do not have the technology to cross into a parallel universe, not even in theory. I could beam you back and forth for thousands of years before I could ever reproduce what happened by chance."

"How the Hell did you send the others back, then?" McCoy snarled back.

"You would not understand the technical intricacies-"

"Damn you, don't talk down to me!" McCoy yelled, and already he felt his throat grow hoarse. He knew arguing about this at all was pointless, and he hardly had the heart for it. "I know what we did. It wasn't too 'intricate' for me-"

"Doctor, the fact that your crew's haphazard plan worked at all is still a source of amazement for me. The amount of energy you channeled into the transporter is meaningless; it's the residue of the other universe that matters..." he grunted and shook his head with barely controlled frustration. While the other Spock enjoyed passing along his knowledge to others, however condescendingly, this one seemed to be disgusted at the idea.

McCoy's eyes stung, but he just stared back at him, as if half dead, slumped. He was silent as Spock began to lead him down the passage way again. There was no point to say anything or try to fight, not now at least, not while he was still so hopelessly in the dark. Something in the way Spock spoke made him suspect he was telling the truth, it was just something he could feel.

But he was too tired and sore to attempt anything right now. "Where we going?" he finally asked as they entered the turbo lift. It was so similar to his own, he couldn't help but torment himself with the fantasy that they'd emerge right back at his own ship on the other end.

"We are going to the bridge, to witness the destruction of the Halkans," Spock said. He was back to his regular self, calm and collected, holding McCoy's arm as if it were merely the handle to some machine.

McCoy swallowed, tasting blood and the dryness of his throat, wondering if he could ask what he wanted to ask. The thought of speaking one word to this man, or making any move that would call attention to himself repelled him, but he forced himself. "Please tell me you're gonna talk him out of it."

"You assume that your captain's suggestion is appropriate here?" Spock said, a slight grin to his lips.

"You said you'd consider it," McCoy pressed, but rather quietly. He could feel Spock tighten his fingers on his arm. "You know he's right! It isn't logical to let those people die, that's just blind-"

"I am not a fool, nor am I a barbarian, Doctor," Spock said. He kept them both there when the turbo-lift stopped. He would finish what he had to say before exiting. "But you must understand that your ways—the ways of your previous life—do not apply here. You are not a commanding officer, as such you have no right to question me."

Up until the mention of the Halkans, McCoy had only been thinking of himself, and he felt ashamed for that now. There was no room for self pity when that peaceful civilization was in danger. But the finality of Spock's words made him fear the worst. Before he could say anything, not that anything would help, the doors opened and they exited onto the bridge, McCoy stumbling after Spock.

"Mr. Spock, it's about time," the Kirk of this universe chided. He gave McCoy a look he didn't quite decipher, a sort of up and down, lazy look, and then turned back to the view screen. It would have been too late for any interfering on Spock's part; the screen was filled with the bright, beautiful colors of flames.

While this picture raged on to the entertainment of the crew, McCoy gaped. He barely heard, but he felt Spock lean closer to him and tell him quietly, "The Captain will take the medical reports now. You'll tell him nothing's changed, and then return to Sickbay and await the end of my watch. You have twenty minutes, Doctor, before the device is activated." He took McCoy's limp arm to program the cuff.

He remained standing there for a moment, short of breath, but soon recovered. So far everyone on the bridge was ignoring him, and he was grateful for that. He could see Spock at the science station, watching him without making it obvious that he was. Heart slamming in his chest, he approached the captain.

"Medical report, Sir," he managed to say. He thought he could perhaps pretend, at least for right now, that he were still on his own Enterprise, speaking to his captain like normal.

Kirk's brusque attitude was making that difficult. "Speak up, damn you." He rested his face on his hand, passing his eyes over McCoy like before, slower this time.

McCoy almost stuttered, but controlled himself by not looking Kirk in the eye. "Med-just the medical report. Nothing's changed, Sir." He turned to leave, but Kirk grabbed his hand. His fingers even brushed the cuff, but he didn't even seem to notice.

"Wait," he said. "What's going on with M'Benga? Still in critical?"

McCoy flicked his eyes to Spock frantically, who shook his head just enough for McCoy to tell his meaning. "Uh, no, Captain. He's-he's alright now."

Kirk grinned, still holding McCoy tightly by the hand. McCoy knew that smile from anywhere, but this one in particular was tainted with something he'd never seen in his Jim Kirk. He laughed, "Atta boy, M'Benga! Chapel must be furious!"

"O, yes, Sir, fuming mad!" McCoy agreed with a nervous chuckle, although he had no idea what Kirk meant.

"Alright, you get back to it," Kirk said, finally letting him go. "And what's with all this Sir business?" he asked, making an amused face.

McCoy didn't know what to say, and Spock was no help, either.

Kirk's eyes darkened, his grin growing into something different. "Keep it up. I like it."

McCoy felt himself grow hot in the face. He mumbled, "Aye, Sir," and left quickly, shuddering once he was safely alone in the turbo-lift. His discomfort did not lessen, but when he exited the turbo-lift, he began to think about M'Benga. Why would the Nurse Chapel be angry at one of their staff getting better, McCoy thought as he walked down the passage way slowly.

She did not seem entirely happy the few seconds he saw her before, but that was hardly enough to make sense. Perhaps it was just a sick joke? He thought about the look on her face again, how...angry it looked. How cold. She looked like she hated him, but that was ridiculous, McCoy thought. He couldn't imagine what reason she would have, but then again, he did not know what his counterpart's relationship was with everyone on board. He'd seen enough of this universe to know nothing was too outrageous.

She's furious because she wanted him dead.

McCoy stopped walking. He shook his head, trying to deny it, but it made sense. He then tried to convince himself that he was in no state for assumptions like this, he was tired, hurt, distressed. Everyone would seem an enemy now.

Either way, McCoy entered Sickbay with utmost care, making sure no one was around the corner before he proceeded. It was empty, like before, and he couldn't hear anyone nearby, so he slipped further on to his office. By now his heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands were shaking, but he found the concentration to program the door to remain locked from the inside. He let out a soft sigh as he fell into the chair at the desk, and lay his head in his hands. A soft beep sounded in his ear; it was from the cuff.

Finally alone, no distractions, he was able to think of everything at once. Of an entire civilization murdered at the whim of one man, his own futile attempts to do anything about it. Of the dull but persistent pain of his body, the desperate, useless wish to leave. He thought about everything at once, but his thoughts always returned to one central theme: Spock.

His body relaxed into a sagging heap on the desk as he cried.

/

While McCoy had been unconscious in Sickbay, Spock had been busy. Without revealing the parallel universe issue to the admiral, Spock was able to defend his Captain. Kirk, as far as Command was concerned, had destroyed the Halkans too late, but Spock had assured them that he had no intentions of disobedience. Spock even offered his own opinion that he felt it was wise to wait. Not for the Halkans' sake, of course, but for the Empire's.

In any case, they were satisfied, especially after a short meeting with the Captain himself. Kirk had been briefed of the basic facts of what had happened the past hours, but Spock did not tell him what he had told the admiral. He didn't need to, nor was it difficult for Kirk to bullshit his way through the interrogation so successfully, that his superior officers had an even higher opinion of him than ever before.

Captain Kirk, the only man that can openly defy Imperial Command and be praised for it.

However, Kirk was not satisfied, and Spock was not surprised. After their shift, Kirk gestured for Spock to follow. By now, Spock was able to understand a variety of commands just from the most subtle facial or hand movements from his captain. Only when Kirk was feeling especially pompous did he need to give his first officer verbal orders.

If there was one thing Spock could be grateful for, it was that Kirk was a creature of habit, almost to a fault. He may dread and fear what he knew was coming, but at least he could try to plan for it.

Unfortunately it was difficult to tell just how long this session would take. Considering Kirk's easy going mood, it might not be too involved. Or that could mean Spock would be busy for hours. He thought briefly of McCoy, who would just have to wait however long it took, and walked down the passage ways side by side with Kirk in silence.

Grinning softly, eyes half lidded, Kirk offered Spock a seat at his desk, where a game of chess was left unfinished. Spock grit his teeth and obeyed. There have been the few times in the past when Kirk seemed to merely desire his company, but he knew this would not be such a time. Spock had done something for Kirk, and Kirk would want to know why. And by starting off with a chess game, Kirk was undoubtedly planning on dragging this out.

For a moment they didn't speak. They played slowly, thoughtfully, all the while Spock fought to control his emotions. Kirk, meanwhile, was transparent. The higher ranking man beamed with what he thought to be a cleverly held secret, while Spock could only sit and wait and pretend he didn't suspect anything.

It was a ridiculous game that fooled neither, and yet it happened every time.

When Kirk finally spoke, it startled Spock, who had by then let his mind wander. "You could have let me die, Spock," he said, letting his fingers linger on a piece. "Why didn't you?"

Spock took his time answering. His captain had always demanded absolute obedience, but there were times when it was appropriate to toy with him back. Or at least pretend to. "I do not wish you to die, Sir," he said, with a blank look in his eyes. Thanks to the Forbidden Teachings, he was fairly good at clearing his mind and emotions, as long as he had enough time to prepare himself.

"And why is that?" Kirk asked, with slight menace in his voice. He stared directly at Spock, who deliberately avoided his eyes. Spock focused hard on keeping his hand from shaking when he took another piece. He kept imagining Kirk secretly laughing at him for his attempts to hide his emotions. Any other human would find Spock unnervingly stoic, but it was different with Kirk. Or did Spock only imagine it was?

"Captain," Spock answered a little harshly. "You continuously ask me such questions, and I give you the same answers. It's no different this time." He lifted his hand to a piece at the top, about to grab it, but Kirk grabbed his hand and held it still. Spock was forced to look into Kirk's eyes, and he fought to keep from revealing anything. He tried to will his heart to slow down, as the Teachings instructed.

Kirk's grip was tight, and Spock did not attempt to resist. He tried to relax his muscles to make it seem like he wasn't anxious. It didn't work.

"What is the purpose of asking me?" Spock answered in a low voice. He thought he could speed things along by trying to get to the point, but they would only do so when Kirk wanted to. "Do you want me to tell you how valuable you are to the ship, or how much I respect your experience?"

Kirk's grip tightened, but he didn't speak or even change his expression. He made Spock wait a grueling moment of silence before sliding his fingers off Spock's hand. "You 'll want to reconsider that move."

Spock's heart sped up until he realized Kirk was talking about the chess piece. Silently cursing himself for his lack of focus, he moved it. His voice trembled when he said, "Check."

Kirk took his time to survey the 3D board, watching Spock, even though his eyes were on the pieces. "I want you to tell the truth," he said.

Spock couldn't make a move till Kirk made his. Of course he did not try to hurry him. "I've never lied to you, Captain," he answered, trying to sound more insulted than he felt.

"Well you never tell the whole story, either," Kirk smirked, and then made a move Spock hadn't considered. "Check," he said humorlessly.

Spock knew he'd have to open up to Kirk enough to please him, but but not enough to give him too much power. Spock had a great many reasons, and so much depended on Kirk not realizing them. As he thought of which secret was safe to sacrifice, Spock made a show of pretending concession. He frowned and crossed his arms for a while, then finally muttered, "I'm safe as long as you're alive, Sir," he said, and even flicked his eyes up to Kirk's.

There was a good chance that Kirk wouldn't buy it, but Spock was quite a risk taker when it came to his captain.

Kirk stared him down, his eyes dark and piercing, his lips fixed in a mirthless half smirk. "What makes you think you're safe now?" he said, and gestured to the board.

Spock suppressed a shudder, more from Kirk's cold tone of voice than his words, and tried to look for a move. Without even bothering to touch the piece, he gave up, sitting still with his hands in his lap.

"Get some rest," Kirk ordered. "You look terrible."

Spock answered in the affirmative and got up to leave, feeling Kirk's eyes on him the entire way out. Rather than feel relief that he'd escaped some ordeal, he was weighed down with dread. This conversation was far from over. In fact it had started since the day he reported on board the Enterprise, thrust beneath the legendary captain's control. It could very well continue until one of them ended up dead.

"And Spock," Kirk called to him just as he reached the door. Spock stopped, but didn't turn. "Check mate."