Chapter 15

"So, they're still not talking?" asks Chekov, leaning closer towards Sulu and Uhura from the navigation chair on the bridge. It feels good to be back on the bridge plotting a course for the Enterprise.

"No," says Uhura solemnly.

"It's like when your parents are fighting," offers Sulu.

Jim rolls his eyes and hands the report he's signing off on back to the ensign waiting patiently beside him. He knows his senior staff are perfectly aware he can hear their conversation at the helm from his captain's chair. He has very real concerns that his friendship with the doctor won't survive this fight but he and everyone else need to stay focused on this test flight. "Dad can hear you, you know," he calls.

Spock looks questioningly at Jim but before anyone can explain, Scotty walks onto the bridge.

There's a flicker of disappointment that it's not Leonard. Leonard always makes a point to stop by the bridge and check in with Jim, except it looks like that's another thing that's changing. He locks eyes with Scotty, the unspoken question playing between them. Jim had asked Scotty to extend an invitation to Leonard to join them today on the bridge, not because he's required to be present on the ship at all, but it might help smooth the troubled waters. Clearly the olive branch went unaccepted.

Jim lets out a long breath and slips back into his game face. Disappointment can wait. With a big smile he says, "Excellent, Mr Scott. What's our status?"

"We're all green on my end, Captain," says Scotty proudly before walking over to stand next to the Captain.

"Alright, Uhura, alert all departments we are a go." Uhura heads back to her station, taking her seat and opening a channel to all stations.

Jim leans closer to Scotty and whispers, "And the other little matter?" He can't help but hope that Leonard at least made it on the ship to check out sickbay if he couldn't be bothered to join everyone on the bridge.

"Negative," replies Scotty. He's had his head stuck in the engine room for the last few weeks and Leonard didn't want to talk about what brought him to Scotty's door, so he isn't entirely certain what's gone on between Jim and Leonard. He's sure it will dissipate once they're out in open space again.

"Mr. Sulu, take us out of space dock and around the block," orders Jim. It feels good to be sitting back in the captain's chair with a ship that's his own.

"Aye, sir," replies Sulu, tapping the consul.


Leonard's not sure why he's even here. He passed on joining the crew on their test run and its success just means he's that much closer to having to decide if he can go through with serving on the Enterprise. Still, he somehow found his way to the walkway overlooking the port doors, stuck in limbo until the ship re-docks. He kind of feels bad that he hasn't talked to Jim in two weeks- kind of.

Kirk lets out a long, drawn-out, loud yawn, leaning against the walkway railing with his back to the room below. "I'm board," he complains.

"I'm not here for your entertainment," grumbles Leonard, low and bitter so as not to be overheard by the people passing by. He has a reputation for being a curmudgeon, he doesn't need one for being crazy.

Kirk snorts with derision. "Why are we even here? You're not good enough to serve on that ship and you can't be stupid enough to believe the captain's going to let you bring down the average."

Leonard just rolls his eyes. He honestly doesn't know. Letting go is harder than anticipated. It's like when Joanna was learning to walk. He knew he had to let go of her hand so she could find her feet, but he couldn't help hovering nearby in case she wobbled and needed him to catch her. He just needs to hover until the Enterprise has proved she's ready for space travel and has made it safely back to port. Then they can go off with their lives and he can fall apart in peace.

Kirk fidgets in the silence; Leonard not rising to the bate. "There has to be some rookie nurses back in med that we can torment," whines Kirk.

Leonard slams his good hand down on the railing. "We're not doing that! This is what we're doing so if you insist on hanging around, get onboard with it," he snarls. Jim's as bad as a toddler seeking attention. Leonard flinches inwardly as a few passersby look questioningly at him.

"You're no fun," says Kirk, practically sticking his tongue out.

Leonard mutters, "Never tried to claim I was." Kirk's blissfully quiet after that. Leonard can still see him pouting out of the corner of his eye, but the annoying chatter has ceased. Being on the observation deck, Leonard can't hear the comm chatter between the station and the Enterprise so he's as in the dark as everyone else on the success or failure of the attempt until she finally glides back towards the station and begins docking procedure. Something in Leonard relaxes at the sight. Just as he turns to see if Kirk has any snarky comment to ruin the moment, he realizes he's alone. That too is a relief.

As the crew disembarks, they have to walk down the docking corridor and under the observation bridge. Leonard stays perched there, watching, silently counting heads to make sure everyone came home. Most don't even notice him, too wrapped up in enthusiastic conversations about their success to bother looking up.

Jim's eagle eyes don't miss the dark brooding figure leaning on the railing of the observation deck. At first, he's elated that Leonard showed up for this important event, that perhaps they're turning a corner and the ice is thawing, until Leonard's harsh glare laser focuses on him and doesn't waiver. If Jim didn't know him well, he'd think Leonard was plotting his demise. He shoots Leonard a tight smile and follows his bridge officers down the corridor.

It's the first crew meeting Jim's looked forward to in a long time. They'll debrief on their test run, review the collected data and finalize their plans to officially launch the Enterprise so she can finally continue with her official mission. Jim even has a bottle of champagne waiting for them in the briefing room.

It's nice to see the crew this happy. At first, the dark cloud over the heads was the destruction of their ship and home, then the weariness of the slog to rebuild her. Then the mysterious disappearance of their doctor and his long road to recover upon his rescue. But now, now things are looking up.

"Spock, go ahead and start the meeting without me," says Jim, slowing down his pace as they near the briefing room. M'Benga has stopped to talk to a familiar looking face in a medical uniform and it takes Jim a minute to recognize her as the psychologist that's been working with Leonard and will determine if he's ready to return to service.

Daily's poised and professional making it hard for Jim to tell from her body language if this is going to be good news or not. On the bridge of his ship, he felt nothing put peace despite all that was riding on her first test run, now his guts are filled with butterflies and he's sweating like he didn't study for an exam in a class he didn't bother to show up to all semester.

Kirk leans over and says in Leonard's ear as they watch the private conversation. "Who do you think they're talking about?" His grin grows wider then even the Cheshire cat could manage.

Leonard knows exactly who the hushed and private conversation is about. Three people that have only him in common, and he never wanted in the same room together, are comparing notes like he's some sort of class project. Anger burns, deep and wild within Leonard. He hates ship gossip as a general rule, even if it sometimes gives some insight into his patients and fellow crewmates on occasion. He really hates his personal life being the topic of conversation. Given the events of the last few months, he wishes everyone could just forget him completely.

Isn't that ironic? The biggest problem he had before was being forgotten and now he'd give anything for that to be true once more. People barely remembered to notify him they were cancelling plans with him and now he can't get them to stop talking about him, about what happened, constantly speaking all that pain back into existence. And if they're not trying to talk about it with him, now he can see, they entertain each other by talking about it amongst themselves.

"They're scheming about something," says Kirk with a lecherous smile.

Of that Leonard has no doubt. Filled with the bitter taste of betrayal, from his doctor, his psychologist and his supposed best friend and captain, Leonard storms off.

Jim's listening intently to the recommendations of Leonard's medical team but it's hard not to notice Leonard storming off out of the corner of his eye. Looks like it's going to be a long winter season between them.


"Do you want to tell me how you feel about the Enterprise being cleared to resume it's mission?" asks Daily from her plush recliner in a borrowed room at the rehabilitation center that Leonard has been doing his rehab on his hand.

Leonard digs his fingertips into the arm rest of the couch. He's been rigid and scowling in silence for the first fifteen minutes of this ambush or as Daily calls it, a session. "Aren't you supposed to be stationed on Earth?" snaps Leonard. He specifically picked her because there was half a quadrant between them and thus no chance for an in-person conversation. "Certainly, shouldn't be plotting with the enemy," he mutters, far to low for her to hear.

"I am. I wanted to come out here and do one session in-person before your evaluation. It's a unique circumstance we're dealing with here. There's the nature of the Enterprise's mission and it's recommission that's placed a deadline on your certification for duty that we normally wouldn't be facing. We need to make sure you're ready and that this is what want at this moment."

Ready? Most certainly not. Being stuck on a ship with those people leaves a bad taste in his mouth. The only silver lining is that being on a ship as opposed to a space station is Leonard becomes a moving target over a stationary one.

"In space no one can hear your scream," says Kirk sagely, crossing his legs on the opposite side of the couch.

Leonard works hard not to visibly shudder. What if it's all been an act and the crew is waiting- just waiting, for the ship to leave dock to turn back into those nightmares. He could avoid it all. All he has to do is drop to his knees and confess every dark moment, everything that makes Leonard unworthy of putting that uniform back on, that Jim lied and falsified a report. The truth will set him free and yet the words refuse to spill from his lips.

Kirk looks over at Leonard expectantly, but all Leonard can see is Jim standing in the hanger back at the academy looking all sad and he just can't do anything that would clip Jim's wings. He owes Jim. He owes him for picking Leonard up off the floor after his whole world imploded in a messy divorce. If nothing else, Leonard pays his debts.

"You'll never be able to repay Chekov," reminds Kirk. "Poor kid. Choked on his own blood. And all for trying to help you."

Leonard's hand reflexively aches. "I maybe ready to serve on a ship," he says tightly, forcing the lie out of his throat, "but I'm not entirely sure what my vocation would be." He holds up his wrapped hand for emphasis.

"I don't think that's an entirely fair representation of your skills or accomplishments. You are a brilliant doctor, Leonard. Regardless if you qualify to operate again or not there are numerous other ways you can contribute in your field and onboard the Enterprise," says Daily.

"But not as the CMO," he says glumly. It wasn't a position he pictured himself in, certainly not right out of the gate. Tragedy had thrust him into the position and Jim made sure he kept it. He didn't know how much it meant to him and how he needed the job until he was staring down the end of his career as CMO.

"I've been talking with your medical team, and they believe you are capable of full dexterity. With some more therapy you could be back to one hundred percent by the end of the year."

Kirk snorts. "I'm sure that's what you were discussing, lady."

That's news to Leonard. His specialist has been there for every test and Leonard has yet to make progress that would suggest he's even close to holding a scalpel again, let alone wielding it. He should be elated that a complete recovery was still in the cards, but disappointment tugs at his heart instead. Medical had been his safety net. Now, rejoining the crew feels all but inevitable.


It sits there. Staring, mocking Leonard. He paces the room, wearing a trench into the new carpeting on the floor. All he has to do is send the letter. It's the equivalent of jettisoning an escape pod. This must have been how the leaders of old felt as they contemplated whether to press the doomsday button or not.

Leonard's come to realize, in a big bad way, he can't go through with being on the Enterprise. He's gone to all the trouble of writing out his formal resignation, his last pull in case of emergency measure to avoid what's coming. Jim may have changed his report but there's nothing Jim can do about a formal request to HQ for resignation.

He doesn't know what's holding him back. This is the solution to his problem with the crew. The real question is what's left for him out in the universe? He rebuilt his life once before, coming to Starfleet for shelter. Can he do it again? Is the fear of having to try again more crippling than wondering if today is the day Spock will gut him? If today Sulu will take his whole hand? If this is the moment Jim uses Leonard's blood to paint the walls of the ship like he has with others before?

He's not looking forward to having to rebuild without Starfleet, but he'll never survive their five-year mission constantly jumping at shadows and waiting for his friends to peel off their masks to reveal the monsters underneath. When he first got back, had hoped he could just get another posting, but Jim's interference has made that impossible. His options are pass or fail now.

"Fuck it." Leonard hits send.

He stares at the computer and the confirmation of his sent letter like it somehow betrayed him. All the agonizing over the decision, he expected to feel something upon ending the life he knew. There's nothing. No relief, no hope, no despair. Just emptiness- an unfillable hollowness like the universe scooped out his soul and left him a shell. He laughs, harsh and broken. He's not surprise; he spilled so much blood over in the other universe that there probably wasn't anything to bring back.


If Leonard could kick the door in, he would. Damn technology's stolen the ability to make a dramatic entrance. He makes up for it a little with his blistering declaration of, "You god damn interfering, bastard!" as he storms into Jim's office. "You just can't help yourself, can you? Well, this is my life we're talking about here."

"What are we talking about, here?" asks Jim tightly, looking over at Leonard from behind his desk. His brows knit together as he adopts a more formal stance.

Leonard opens his mouth to continue his rant, only then realizing that Jim isn't exactly alone. Spock is standing stoically to the side of Jim's desk, eyebrow raised in curiosity. The young yeoman holding a stack of reports looks a little more scandalized by Leonard's outburst. Leonard's jaw clicks shut. He doesn't care what Spock thinks about his messy human display, but the yeoman almost looks frightened or horrified like she walked in on her boss in bed. He wants to apologise to her but can't bring himself to offer an ounce of contrition in front of Jim. Instead, he just stands there, silent and glaring at the floor.

Jim gives a nod of dismissal to the yeoman, who breathes a sigh of relief as she flees the room. The tension in his shoulders unwinds a little too once it's just friends alone in his office now. "Care to start from the beginning, Bones?" asks Jim with infinite patients and compassion. Leonard maybe pissed off but at least they're talking and that's a step forward.

It's just his luck that the Hobgoblin decides to stay instead of leaving with the yeoman. Leonard's hands hang by his side, curled into fists. "My resignation," he spits. "You erased my resignation like you did my report. Temporarily losing the Enterprise wasn't enough for you when this pointed eared bastard ratted you out to Pike, you have to keep risking it?"

Spock looks questioningly at Jim who minutely shakes his head to forestall any questions.

"Oh, he didn't tell you? The captain just goes around altering official reposts and deleting formal resignations whenever he feels like," accuses Leonard.

"First," interjects Jim before Spock can say anything, "you weren't in any condition to be submitting that report. You would have lost your career, Bones, if the Brass had gotten a hold of that. And second, I don't know what resignation letter you're…"

"Maybe that was the point!" interrupts Leonard.

"You actually want to quit?" asks Jim, quiet and a little broken. His eyes grow wide in surprise. Sure, he had to drag Leonard along kicking a screaming for the first little bit at the academy, but once Leonard found his feet again, he took to Starfleet like a fish to water. Jim knows, he'd never admit it, but Leonard loves working in Medbay onboard the Enterprise.

The answer is yes. It's simple. Jim should know that if he went to all the trouble of deleting Leonard's resignation before anyone could read it. He should just say it. It should be easy to say. And yet, something won't let him answer Jim. "I don't belong here," he says, because Leonard's life has never been about what he wants.

Jim looks like Leonard just slapped him across the face. "This is your home, Bones. We're your home. Where else could you belong?"

Leonard's head is starting to spin. He's the wronged party here but Jim looks like he's the one with the knife in the back. The point isn't that Leonard wants out when he swore he's stay with Jim until the end of the line but that Jim: invaded his privacy, circumvented Leonard's choices and is enforcing his will upon Leonard. The salt in the wound is Jim acting like he knows nothing about it. "Screw you, Captain," he sneers. "Screw both of you."

He storms out in the same whirling dervish that he entered. He's halfway down the hall before he notices his very own personal Kirk is back, striding along side him.

"The audacity of him to not only pull your letter but deny he did it," says Kirk, and it's nice to have someone else to share Leonard's anger with him. Kirk looks back down the hall towards Jim's office. "I bet those two are in cahoots."

"Spock's not about breaking the rules," grumbles Leonard. Spock would probably be relieved if Leonard resigned. No more irritable and illogical doctor to put up with. Helping Jim with this isn't something that benefits Spock nor fits with overly righteous Vulcanism.

"Oh, they're scheming. Just like the captain was with your medical team. They're all in on it. Mark my words," says Kirk. "I'm the only one you can trust."

"I don't need you're two cents," says Leonard dismissively. He's already angry, he doesn't need more reasons to be.


It's not Jim that comes to his door everyday, but everyone else. Leonard has no doubt Jim's using them all as surveillance and welfare checks since he knows damn well Leonard isn't opening the door for him any time soon, even if it was for an appology. At first Leonard would answer the door. He gave Uhura a well-meaning dismissal, when she showed up the first night with a picnic basket of food and bottle of wine in hand, citing being poor company. When Scotty came on the second day, he feigned a headache. He told Sulu he had a therapist appointment and Chekov that he had a medical inventory meeting. He told Jaylah he was heading to bed and Christine that he was just too tired. By the time they sent Keenser, all Leonard could say was, "Tell them I'm alive and to mind their own business." Now, he doesn't bother even answering the door.

The clock's counting down. It's two weeks until the Enterprise launches. What once was his home, feels like a looming prison sentence. Everyone else has begun moving into their new quarters. Leonard hasn't set foot on the ship. His stuff is packed, sitting in crates and boxes in his Yorktown quarters mocking him, that even it's more prepared to leave than he is.

He lays in bed starring at the ceiling. It's better than suffering through his series of recuring nightmares, anyways. He's toyed with the idea of hopping a transport going wherever. If he can't resign, he can just go AWAL. People disappear to remote areas all the time. It can't be that hard. Except the Enterprise's first mission will probably be to hunt him down for court martial. And that puts him right back into the same predicament of being stuck on that ship with the people he's desperate to avoid. Except in that scenario, he's locked in the brig. He'd much rather have the freedom to move around his floating prison, thank you very much.

This is why he never plays chess with Jim and Spock; only watches. Every move he can think of, Jim already has a counter play in place.


Jim takes another sip of his drink, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass as he waits for Spock to finish contemplating his next move. A lot of things have been weighing on his mind lately. Mostly it's the lack of a third companion on chess night. "Do you ever think, maybe we were duped?" asks Jim rather brokenly, as Spock moves his bishop to the third level to take Jim's rook.

Spock places the captured piece next to the board. His eyebrow rises with his unspoken question for further clarification on the subject.

It's been nagging at Jim for awhile, but he's been hesitant, almost fearful to voice it. "Did we bring back the wrong Leonard?"

Spock's silent for a moment, as he ponders the thought. Jim's not sure if such contemplation makes him feel better or worse about the idea.

"The doctor's behavior of late has been odd, even for him," states Spock, steepling his hands as he rests his chin on them. "However, I do not know what the strategical advantage of sending the doppelganger McCoy to our universe would be."

Jim can't think of any nefarious plot either, but he never would have imagined an alternate Spock would kidnap Leonard to start with and drag him back to that reality. "Maybe he just wanted to escape that place?" The thought means that Leonard- his Leonard, is still back there suffering unimaginable horrors.

"The actions that led to the doctor returning to us, do not suggest a plan of action to support your hypothesis. Furthermore, if it was Dr McCoy's doppelganger, it would be more prudent to fit in, as it were, so as not to raise suspicion."

"Still, something's wrong. Call it a feeling." Jim moves one of his pawns down a level. "I looked into that resignation letter Leonard was talking about. He never wrote one, let alone sent it to anyone. I had Scotty scour the Yorktown's systems. There's been no computer use with Bones's credentials outside of his meetings with his therapist and medical teams."

"His other claim of altered reports is true?"

Jim's eyebrows knit together. "It's probably best if you don't ask me that, Spock."

Spock doesn't voice any disapproval, but it radiates off of him regardless. "Have you broached the subject with Dr M'Benga or Nurse Chapel?"

Jim shakes his head. "It would be too much like going behind his back. Which is pretty much what he's been accusing me of lately. Psych's cleared him for duty so what more can Geoff and Christine do then that." The accusation isn't completely unwarranted but if Leonard would just let him in, let him help, then Jim wouldn't have to work behind the scenes to look out for his friend.

Images of blood and the bridge of the Enterprise flash through Spock's mind. "Indeed," he says.


Leonard lets out a strangled cry as a fistful of his hair is grabbed, wrenching back his head so Leonard has no choice but to look his attacker in the eye. The cold-hearted bastard looks smug; this is what passes for entertainment. His med kit is sitting on the table next to him, though its purpose isn't for healing.

"Feel free to scream."

The dagger plunges through his right shoulder, the tip embedding into the back of the chair. He can't breathe as his body hiccups and spasms against the white-hot pain. A lazar scalpel cuts through the air gliding unobstructed until it finds Leonard's hand. When he looks up it's not Sulu torturing him, but Jim.

Leonard wakes with a start. His hand automatically reaches for his shoulder to pull out a knife that's not there. He could almost believe it didn't happen except for the bulky brace that's still on his hand. He can't get back to sleep after that, though the nightmare replays seamlessly in his conscious mind. It's a bit disturbing just how flawlessly Jim fills in Sulu's role in Leonard's dream.