Chapel's here doing general rounds and collecting data with M'Benga when they stop in Leonard's room for his daily poke and prodding. As far as intrusions go, it's a couple of harmless scans that don't require much from Leonard other than to be still. They make small talk, either to make themselves feel less awkward or to try and put him at ease; Leonard's not sure which, but he isn't interested in entertaining either option, so he sits silently, generally avoiding eye contact. Doctors make the worse patients.

McCoy can feel pressure building under his skin, making him squirm. All he can see, are scars the other Chapel had hidden under her dress and her vindictive satisfaction when she cut into him; tit for tat. It makes the pain in his chest flair up, dull and achy at first, building to a crescendo of bright hot sharp pain that feels like a blade impaling him. He knows a thing or two about how that feels, thank you very much Sulu.

"I assure you, Leonard, it's gone," promises M'Benga, seeing his patient absently rubbing the site from which he removed that ungodly torture device. It still gives him nightmares, he can't imagine enduring like Leonard had to. He'd have smashed that device the second he freed it from Leonard's collar bone if the engineering department wasn't eagerly waiting to get their hands on it and dissect its nefarious purpose.

Leonard let's his hand drop in his lap, looking at it like it betrayed him somehow. He's getting a handle on not screaming out loud, he doesn't need the only good hand he has left ratting him out. If that other place taught him anything, it's to not let anyone else see your weaknesses and soft spots. "I'm sure it is," he replies succinctly and devoid of any feeling. Whether the device is there or not, is inconsequential, it's still serving its purpose- torturing and instilling fear.

There's excitement in the air. Everyone is chatting about the impending departure of the Enterprise whether they are a part of her crew or not. Apparently she's got a bit of a reputation now that everyone wants to see this incarnation stretch her legs for the time. Leonard just feels numb. He's unable to summon the energy to be either sad that they're going off without him, soon to leave him behind like space dust, or relieved he won't be stuck on that tin can with the ghosts of trauma past. His future no longer has purpose or direction, just a shapeless black void the likes of which he hasn't known since his ex-wife uttered those fateful words,"They're divorce papers, Leonard. I'm taking Joanna and leaving you."

The irony is he's issuing the 'divorce papers' this time. It doesn't feel any better from this side. Hopefully his motives are slightly more altruistic. He's got a feeling though, they might be more egotistic nature.

Leonard can't begrudge them their happiness but it wears away at his raw exposed nerves. It's like he's forgotten how to make easy, free flowing, light conversation. The weight of his misery pulls all of his thoughts to pretty dark, dank caverns. Equally hard to listen to their joyous prattling, is watching the light fade from their eyes as his darkness spills out, tainting their outlook on life and normal conversations.

It's a testament to M'Benga and Chapel's professionalism and skill that they don't let Leonard get to them. However, familiarity breeds complacency and they should pay more attention to Leonard's sticky fingers as he snags a scanner Chapel's set on his blanket as she turns to grab another instrument. If Leonard were to go back to being the CMO, he'd make a point to review proper protocol regarding keeping track of your tools, but since it's not his problem anymore, he's just glad for the minor slip up.

He's not normally into grand theft medical device, he just needs to satisfy his own morbid curiosity about his condition and the potential removal of Satan's torture device. His caper is successful; M'Benga and Chapel leave with a warm smile and zero clue. As long as he's at the end of their rotation they shouldn't catch on to his deception for a couple of hours. It's plenty of time to do his own medical work up and haphazardly dispose of the scanner so it looks like it was left behind carelessly.

A small part of him knows that if he just asks for the scanner or to see his medical records, his medical team would hand them to him with a smile. That other universe has gotten under his skin, poisoning his soul and making him paranoid. They could always alter the scanner or the results to produce whatever results they want. This way, with the element of surprise, Leonard can be sure of what he sees on the scans.

He hesitates for a moment. Does he really want to know the truth? It isn't out of the realm of possibility that this is all some giant mind fuck in which Spock is the architect. It's elaborate and cruel, all things that Spock excelled at. It could also all be real and these tattered remains are what's left of his life.

Leonard must be a sucker for punishment, because he closes his eyes and runs the device over himself. It beeps and whirls until it chirps its competition. It's the longest couple seconds of Leonard's life.

"Huh."

He thought he would feel something if he had answers: anger, relief, happiness, melancholy- something. The device has been removed and his stats are pretty much what M'Benga has been telling him. This shit show really is his life. He's a goddamn mess and that's all he is anymore.


There's blood on his hands, in fact there's blood on every square inch of himself. It drips in a steady rhythm off of him, collecting in a puddle on the floor. There are bodies strewn all over the room, ripped apart like some wild animal had at them. This is his handiwork. This is what happens when renegade Romulans claiming to be from the future refuse to submit to the might of the empire. It's Leonard's twisted smile reveling in the massacre, his tunic more purple now than bright science blue.

Leonard's face flickers and flashes like a malfunctioning holomask. There's something underneath but the disruptions aren't long enough for Spock to catch a glimpse as to what or who before the whole image dissolves into a dark cloud of rage.

Spock readjusts himself on his meditation mat. His mind is in turmoil, turning over the images and feelings he inadvertently was assaulted with when he touched Leonard shortly after bringing him home. There aren't enough pieces to get a clear picture, mostly raw emotions, like fear and rage, the likes of which Spock is ill-equipped to deal with. There's something cold and calculating lurking beneath the surface that seems so unlike the doctor, the exact opposite as it were to McCoy's usual warm and impulsive nature. McCoy's a lot of things, perhaps the greatest example of the mess that is human emotion, but vindictive, maliciously so, is not him. It's almost like there is something other than the doctor there.

He's been trying to find some clarity and understanding but the experience has thrown his mind into chaos. Spock's not sure why he needs to figure out what was probably just the traumatized doctor's own psyche processing what happened. He just wants to gain some insight into his counterparts mind set- for scientific purposes, of course, he tells himself.

So far his attempts to reach a deep meditative state have been unsuccessful and it's beginning to wear on him. He needs to put this puzzle to bed. In truth, something like this shouldn't have the hold it does on him. The Vulcan mind can rationalize and break everything down to its basic building blocks so it has nothing more to offer than fact. McCoy was transported to a world where cruelty seems to be the logical manner in which to function. That logic was applied to the doctor. McCoy is a colleague and dare he says friend of Spock's, so it is most troubling to know the doctor suffered so. That should be the end of the story. It is however, not.

He's going to kill Jim. His hands are going to snuff out the life of his best friend. He's going to watch the light dim in those vivid blue eyes and he's looking forward to it, is longing to experience it. He tightens his fingers coaxing hard fought wheezes and gurgles out of Jim as he continues to struggle. It won't matter, he can't out power McCoy. The struggling just makes it sweeter and shamefully familiar to Spock. This is a memory Spock is intimately familiar with and yet it is wildly different than the events that took place on the bridge of his own Enterprise years ago.

Jim has a tendency to piss him off. An underlying ripple of irritation flows through the memory, one that Spock can attribute to the doctor, who makes it no secret that he too is perplexed by some of the Captain's more reckless actions. There are countless reasons he could have snapped his neck like a twig, why did he wait until Jim tried to steal the Enterprise?

There's a sharp stabbing pain of electricity running through him just before he can complete his task. Kirk falls from his grip as he turns sharply to catch the chords attached to two electrodes biting into his back run from him to the taser gun in his, no McCoy's hand. It can't be McCoy's he's looking at; a person can't be in two places at once, and since this is an image from McCoy's mind, it is improbable to be looking at McCoy with a twisted smile of satisfaction on his face as he inflicts pain on another soul.

These images painted in blood are not disrupting Spock's work or daily activities but they are plaguing his attempts at meditation and sleep. The truly disturbing parts are the ones that appear to from a point of view that cannot be the doctor's. He's read the medical reports, and the doctor showed no indication of electrical trauma. Furthermore, the doctor's report from the alternate universe that he had on the data chip claimed the McCoy from that universe was dead. It makes the image of McCoy staring at the chords to a taser as it bites into his skin while a version of himself stares at him impossible, unless Spock wasn't seeing the event through McCoy's eyes. It only raises the question of how could McCoy have someone else's memory in his head?

He simply lacks the data to make any hypothesis. Perhaps further attempts at meditation can yield useful results, but at the moment it seems like an exercise in futility.

The quickest solution would be to explain the incident to the doctor and ask his permission to perform a proper mind meld, to clear up the incomplete images Spock has tumbling around his brain like a pinball. That course of action is, however, a minefield of problems. McCoy has an innate animosity to Vulcan customs and mannerisms in which he seems to share openly with Spock and not other Vulcans, for the most part. Spock suspects it's McCoy's inability to understand why anyone with an option (ie Spock's human half) would not find being human to be the superior option. The second issue is Spock knows McCoy to be a deeply private man and such an intimate and open experience would prevent any such privacy between them. Thirdly, and most importantly, is the doctor's reaction to him based on this counterpart's questionable actions. Spock's not sure he can put McCoy through that to merely satisfy his understanding of the situation.

Spock isn't so unfamiliar with human emotions that he can't see the effect his presence in a room has on the doctor. In close contact, for a mind meld, the reaction could be exponential.

With the simplest and most direct route for answers unobtainable, he puzzles over alternative sources of data. He diligently reads over all the reposts pertaining to the incident but they offer little insight into the parts that are troubling Spock. Even McCoy's report falls short of shedding any light on Spock's current predicament

It appears the only person that can decipher what is now in Spock's head, is McCoy. If what Spock suspects is true, then McCoy needs him to figure it out. Eventually, they will have to be in a room together. The Enterprise is only so big and as members or the senior staff, they will have to work together. A conversation is due and sooner might be better than later.

The most direct route is to simply ask the doctor point blank what the memories mean. Since that is not an option at the moment, Spock has to gain answers without direct questions. He must phrase his questions so the doctor doesn't know what Spock is looking for or that Spock even accidently melded with McCoy earlier.

The next morning Spock sets his breakfast tray next to Jim in the cafeteria of Starfleet's Yorktown headquarters. Jim has been taking his breakfast with Doctor McCoy every morning but today the captain has a series of morning meetings that make it more convenient to eat here. It provides Spock with the opportunity to have a moment of Jim's time outside of official business. While the situation has been horrible for McCoy, Spock can see the toll it is taking on his captain as well.

"Morning Spock," greets Jim around mouthfuls.

"Captain," returns Spock, sitting down.

"How are things?" Jim asks, feeling guilty. He's been so preoccupied trying to help Leonard and make up for dropping that ball that he's been dropping some of the others. One of them being, checking in on how Spock's doing.

"They are well," replies Spock with formality.

Jim's smile is pained. He feels like he's trapped in a bubble, watching the people he used to interact with regularly move around him with ease while he struggles to remember how to converse with them. Devoting his time to Leonard has made his conversation skills rusty. There is no free flowing conversation in medical, just cautious phrases and responses that feel like pulling teeth.

Shame burns deep in Jim's gut as he ponders his resentment of the valley his life is currently stuck in. He can't ask Leonard to be or do anything other than what he's doing now, even if the constant snapping and fighting with Jim hurts. Jim's done far worse to Leonard on many occasions. To quote Leonard, he was as hospitable as a wet cat sucking on a lemon, during the weeks he was confined to sickbay after McCoy found away to bring him back from the dead- the dead! The least he can do now since Leonard disappeared under Jim's watch is be there for the doctor and take as many metaphorical punches as Leonard needs to throw.

"Captain," quires Spock, "do you believe the Doctor would permit me to see him?"

That grabs Jim's full attention. The one thing keeping a modicum of peace has been Spock staying away. Jim hasn't spared much thought to putting the two in the same room again but the two have to see each other eventually. Enterprise A is big, but not big enough that the CMO can avoid the first officer for the duration of their mission. They're both his friends, how are they going to manage if two of the can't be in the same room? It might be better to get it over with now- quick, like ripping a Band-Aid off, and hope the wound underneath doesn't hemorrhage.

"Umm. I'll ask him and get back to you?" stammers Kirk, trying to work out how best to broach the subject with McCoy. This will be a delicate conversation that requires surgical precision. Yesterday left a sour taste in both their mouths; he doesn't particularly want to pick at Leonard's wounds again today.

Spock nods his acceptance. "Of course, Captain."


It started as a way to get updates on McCoy; compare notes on visits, but it feels more like a support group and a much needed coming together of a group that temporarily lost their cohesion. It's always Chekov, Sulu and Scotty at their lunch meetings. Uhura's there every day except Thursdays when she takes her meal with Leonard in medical. She makes a point to message them after and give them a rundown of her interaction and any tidbits she's garnered from the nurses.

Sulu's husband, Ben, accompanies him on weekdays when Demora is in school. Keenser and Chapel have joined the group once or twice but are usually, understandably, otherwise occupied. Spock cycles through a bit more often, though it's clear he's there more for Uhura than his own need for support. Jim's never around; he's only seen in an official capacity, and even that's a rare sighting. They trust Spock when he indicates he's taking care of the captain, but despite their first officer taking the brunt of the work, it's hard not to notice the effect the doctor's condition is having on Jim when they do catch a glimpse of him.

"Have you been to see him lately?" asks Sulu, watching Chekov push his cold spaghetti around his plate. Sulu saw McCoy once and hasn't been back since. Part of it is for McCoy's benefit and part of it is cowardice on his own part at being unable to see what his presence does to the poor doctor. He made it two steps into the room before his presence turned McCoy into a screaming, shaking mess. As much as he'd like to be there for McCoy, it seems rather cruel to put the doctor through that to simply satisfy Sulu's need to know he's okay. He'll be the first one there once he's sure McCoy has things sorted enough to not be afraid of his crew.

Chekov shakes his head remorsefully. He hasn't gotten the response Sulu and Spock seem to elicit, but McCoy doesn't seem all that at ease around the kid either. If anything, Chekov's presence seems to make him sad. He's never made anyone sad before with simply his presence. "He doesn't seem happy to see me. I can't figure out vat I've done wrong," confesses the ensign.

"You haven't done anything wrong," assures Sulu, resting his hand over top of Chekov's. He holds his smile until the kid returns it. McCoy's the one that went through hell, but the ripples are affecting them all.

"Aye lad. He's just got ta get his head on straight, then everything will be back to normal," agrees Scotty.

"That's easy to say when he doesn't have a problem with you," injects Uhura, feeling hollow. It's going to be much harder for some of them than others. Even if McCoy can move past it, can they? Spock won't say anything but she knows McCoy's violent fear of him is weighing on Spock.

Scotty gives a grim half hearted smile. It's true the doctor doesn't seem to take issue with him; McCoy's irritability seems confined to nothing more than being injured and miserable when the Scotsman is around. He wishes he had more time to visit the doctor but duty calls and someone has to get the Enterprise ready so they can get the hell out of this place. He's kind of glad he has something else taking all of his time. Pretending this is something normal is exhausting too. This isn't like visiting someone in medbay because they suffered a plasma burn or caught Talian flu. This is helplessness. This is watching someone fight for their life after getting mauled by a bear in the woods and being unable to run for help for fear it will come back and finish the job.

"We'll get back out there and everything will be alright. Ya'll see," assures Scotty, though he's not sure he believes it.

They'll get back out there and life will be like it was before the alternate universe, before Yorktown. It will be alright. It has to be.


For all Jim's uncertainty and apprehension about asking Leonard if he's willing to entertain Spock's request, the answer is pretty calm and simple. "Yes." It leads to a long stretch of silence as Jim tires to wrap his head around it. He's prepared a book's worth of arguments and counterarguments like he was going before the academy board to defend his dissertation- all now useless and unnecessary. He'd spent all day thinking about it when he should have been focused on his meetings. He hadn't considered Leonard might agree at all, let alone right out of the gate; at least not when everything else with Leonard has been its own hard won fight. It's unsettling. He's on red alert because a sneak attack must be imminent.

"It's alright if Spock comes to visit you tomorrow?" repeats Jim, because Leonard must have misheard him. The doctor still wakes up in a cold sweat with Spock's name on his lips and has made no secret about how he feels about sharing the same space as their Vulcan first officer. Jim only asked because Spock's his friend and does, in his own way, care about Leonard.

"Ya getting hard of hearing?" Leonard scowls and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Spock?" asks Jim dumbly. Maybe he's saying it wrong? Some parasite has obviously burrowed its way into his brain, causing him to say the wrong words than the ones he thinks he's saying.

"How many pointed eared bastards do you have on that ship now?" Leonard's patients are growing thin. They're not that thick to start with, and Jim seems hell bent on using up every last one. He's trying to do something nice with his last few days as part of the crew before Starfleet comes in and relives Leonard of his commission and Jim's acting like he's waving a phaser around.

He can be civil for ten minutes with Spock, since after that he'll never see him again. There's no point in making this Spock feel like a criminal for the rest of his life. Fifteen minutes- thirty tops, McCoy can force himself to be in the room with the Vulcan and not see the devil. He'll let Spock say his peace, assure the Vulcan none of this is his fault and be done with it.

Spock will be good and can focus on taking care of Jim who's going to be a wreck when Starfleet gets around to issuing Leonard's dismissal. Jim will need someone to make sure he doesn't do something stupid to try and 'fix' what Leonard's set in motion and he's no longer up to the task of helping anyone. It will be the first hurtle the crew will overcome as a unit without him; a necessary step in the right direction. Any minute now; his decommission is due any minute now.