He wasn't crazy.
All right. Maybe he was. A little bit, at least. Maybe he was finally succumbing to the stress of it all.
Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to become unhinged...
The laughter had come out of nowhere and try as he might, Leonard couldn't trace it back to a source. He had felt something snap inside him. That was it.
That's all there is to it.
Then, the Cursioan—Theon—had pointed fingers and named names.
All because he saw memories Leonard had never meant for him to see—had never meant for anyone to see.
Why the warning? As the leaders squabbled, he traced back through the twisted trails of his brain to recall Theon's warning about not telling Jim. About keeping those nightly invasions a secret.
Some secret...
The words had come flying out of Leonard's mouth before he could stop them. One moment, he was content to wallow in the irony of it all, and the next, he felt his chest positively bursting with determination.
If the secret was going to come out, let it come all the way. Let it all be laid on the table.
After all... Why the hell not?
How much further is there to go once you hit rock bottom?
Of course, there was that factor of Jim finding out, but then again, maybe it would be easier to tell him like this. With shouting, accusations, and chaos. Rip the bandaid off quick. Later on, when they were all safely back in their quarters on the Enterprise, sharing some whiskey and going over the mission reports, then they could rehash all this crap. Then, it would be easier because it would merely be a reprise of the actual confession.
It wouldn't land as hard of a blow.
The sudden shaking of the floor and rumbling of the ceiling told Leonard that maybe they wouldn't ever getback to their quarters. Hell, we may not even get back to the ship.
Before he could do any more thinking on the matter, the part of his brain generally intent on surviving kicked into action.
Hand latched on Spock's wrist, Leonard made a dash for Jim. Already, their two security personnel were doing their best to get a Cursioan or two to safety.
"They're powerful, Spock..."
For the first time since... well, everything, Leonard marveled at the incredible mental abilities of this species. As large chunks of the ceiling fell toward the floor, they were redirected—pushed out of the way by an invisible hand—away from the dining table.
"What the hell?" Leonard could practically feel the double question of Jim's exclamation, but now was hardly the time for explaining. It was the time for surviving.
"Earthquakes," Minister Aedon called over the ruckus, "are more common in our capitol than we would like."
"I think," Leonard shot back, his throat constricting from the gathering dust and debris, "most people would like it if these things were nonexistent! Jim, look—!"
The crumbling piece of plaster and marble came inches from Jim's head before flying halfway across the room at an abnormal, horizontal angle.
Had it been allowed to continue its tumble to the ground, Leonard was certain Jim never would've gotten out of the way in time.
The adrenaline coursing through his veins didn't give him time to dwell on this fact, however, and he shoved himself back into action.
Some of the Cursioans tilted and stumbled, scrambling to keep their footing, while others sat in firm concentration, dedicated to the task at hand. Still others appeared to be fleeing for their lives.
The sudden thought that maybe not all Cursioans were lucky enough to possess such strong mind powers crossed Leonard's mind.
"Bones, get down!" Somewhere along the line, he'd lost his grip on Spock's arm. Now, he found his own wrist had been captured as Jim pulled him toward the edge of the room.
The alcove off the dining hall they slid into wasn't the safest option, but the clouds of debris had forced Leonard's mouth and eyes closed, making it impossible to search for an alternative. Beside him, Jim choked on the air.
He itched to open his eyes, to diagnose his friend. To do something. Instead, his legs scrunched up to his chest and his arms flew over his head.
Seconds flew by, but Leonard was convinced it had to be an eternity. How could something so destructive be so short?
The silence was deafening and he could barely make out his own heartbeat. He could feel it, though, banging against his chest like the hooves of a wild stallion against a barn door.
Move.
Move, people are injured. They need you, now move!
With great difficulty, he pried his eyes open, only to have flecks of dust fall from his lashes. Blinking hard against the pain, he looked first to Jim. Already, his captain was working to emerge from his curled up ball of protection.
"You all right?" he coughed.
Leonard nodded. "Right as rain; just a tad dusty. You?"
"Spock," Jim breathed, eyes widening.
That wasn't the answer he was looking for and Leonard bit out a curse when he realized they were only two in that small alcove.
He beat Jim at scrambling out of their hiding place by a half-second, only stumbling twice as he pushed himself to his feet.
Broken pieces of what once had been the Great Hall littered the now cracked and smashed floor. Traversing the chaos was no easy task, but Leonard and Jim slowly made their way out; both scanning for Spock, Leonard scanning for the injured.
The room gradually began to come alive and Leonard was relieved to see several council members rise to their feet, including Minister Aedon. Some weren't so lucky.
The Cursioans might be powerful, but no one could cheat death. Leonard had learned that lesson well.
"Anything?" From the sound of it, Jim had traipsed further into the rubble than Leonard.
"This one's dead, Jim," he replied, gently closing the eyes of the Cursioan he'd knelt beside.
He didn't have to go far to find the quake's next victim. Ensign Banks lay on her side, her brown orbs lifeless and unseeing; splotches of blood darkening her already red shirt.
"Where's your medical team?" he heard Jim ask, no doubt to the minister.
Aedon's voice held only a slight tremor. "Our physicians are highly skilled."
"Great." The touch of impatience in Jim's tone was unmistakable. "Where are they, then?"
"They are highly skilled," Aedon repeated. "Such skill requires that they aid everyone affected by the disaster."
Leonard read the minister's mind long before Jim put what they were all thinking into words.
"Which means we're on our own for a while. Right." Leonard met Jim's gaze from across the room as he stood. "Bones, I guess you're up."
"I must know," Aedon blurted before Leonard could even remind Jim he'd left his medkit in his quarters, "what of your first officer?"
Jim's eyes hardened. "What of him?"
"Is he...?" The unspoken accusation saturated the thick air.
"Spock is hands down the most loyal officer you'll ever meet. I don't know what the hell your councilor was on about, but that's all I have to say on the matter. If you don't believe me, then you can throw us all out right now. I haven't had any reason to lie to you before now and I don't intend to start."
Jim didn't wait for Aedon's reply, which was snail-slow in coming, choosing instead to help Cursioans off the floor and scour the place for survivors.
Right.
A length of torn tablecloth would have to suffice for the time being and Leonard quickly applied it to a bleeding Cursioan. Their purplish blue blood was something Spock certainly would've found fascinating…
Spock.
Leonard forced himself to finish tying off the makeshift bandage before shooting to his feet once more.
Just as he was about to go off in search of Spock, the hobgoblin came dashing around the corner, his face lightly dusted with debris like the rest of them.
"Doctor." The urgency in his tone had Leonard's legs going before he even knew what Spock was about to say next. "There are some who require your particular skill set."
"Where the hell have you been, Spock?" But Leonard ripped off a longer strip of patterned cloth and followed the Vulcan nevertheless.
The hallway off the back of the dining hall had become a makeshift bunker, it seemed, and Leonard couldn't help but wonder how many Cursioans Spock had dragged here before hunkering down himself and waiting for the end to come.
Various types of injuries at various degrees of severity greeted Leonard, but the one case that took precedence over all the others was the one that froze him to the core.
Spock long since knelt beside Theon, but Leonard couldn't get his legs out of their jello-like state.
The Cursioan's robes were discolored and thick with blood, and judging by the dark purple pool growing on the tiles, the scholar didn't have much time.
Leonard only registered the floor when pain exploded through his knees.
"Looks like he's nicked an artery." Damn. Diving headfirst into doctor mode meant pushing the cloud of fear and anger aside. And that was all right, for now… It would have to be. Applying pressure to the wound, he barely spared a glance at his companion. "Spock, I have a medkit in my room. I'll need one of those hyposprays if he wants to survive this."
As Spock raced from the hall, Leonard fixed his attention solely on his assailant. His patient.
Damn.
"You do want to survive this," he said when the silence became too much to bear, "don't you?"
Theon shot him a glare. "You're highly intelligent, Doctor. What do you think?"
"I think there's a handful of other patients I'd rather be working on right now. It's just my luck that you're the most critical, 'else I'd leave you here to think about what you've done."
The Cursioan coughed, a gurgling sound that reminded Leonard of the severity of this whole situation.
"Why… Why don't you?"
"Because I'm a doctor, damn it! It's my job to help people, to heal them. You know, just like you learn and explore, or whatever you wanna call it." He pressed harder, earning a hiss from Theon, before working to elevate the injured area. "Come on, don't blink out on me. I thought you Cursioans were all powerful or somethin'. Are you really gonna let a little blood loss take you down?"
Even as he spoke, Theon's lashes fluttered, lethargy rapidly claiming his features.
"Come on, talk to me," Leonard pressed. "What was all that crap out there? Whatever happened to keeping it quiet? Or are you a hypocrite in that area, too?"
Another cough had Leonard holding his breath, but eventually, Theon shook his head.
"Those were..." he wheezed, "the early stages. It was t-too soon to reveal my findings. I wasn't yet certain, when I t-told you that, if..."
"If you had all the right information?" Leonard took advantage of the being's mild coughing fit, leaning closer as his voice sank to a whisper. "Well, guess what? You don't. What you think you saw about Spock, it wasn't real."
"Then…" And here, Theon had the audacity to look confused. "Why does it affect you as if it were real?"
Fighting to breathe had never been his favorite activity, but Leonard had been doing so much of it lately, the battle had become almost second nature.
"It happened in a different universe. A separate timeline, or something like that... So, technically, it happened, but it didn't happen, it... It's not real in this universe, in our universe. Spock's not like that, he..." Leonard shook his head once more, now fighting against both his vacant lungs and the memories. "That wasn't Spock."
When Theon replied, Leonard could barely hear him. "If it happened at all, whether in this universe or another, it is still… still real. Discounting it is merely a way of ignoring the turmoil it brought to your mind."
"Yeah? Well, what about you? What's your excuse? You were no better than that other Spock. Actually, you're worse because you did it twice. And don't give me all that about not wanting to hurt me or whatever lies you feed yourself before you go to sleep each night," he added when Theon opened his mouth. "I don't wanna hear it. Just tell me why, and tell me the truth this time."
Theon kept his lips pursed, his eyes still trying their best to close for good.
"Let me put it this way," Leonard continued. "If you don't start talking, your body is gonna shut down on you. You need to stay awake, but there's only so much I can do for you until Spock comes back. So, start talking."
"I..." Theon gasped at last. "I d-didn't intend to… to look inside your mind at first. When I performed our test on you, I was… overwhelmed by the pain imprisoning your psyche. I had hoped to bring healing to your mind."
"Bull," Leonard hissed. "If you wanted to heal me, you should've just asked. Instead, you held me down and took whatever the hell you wanted. You're a scholar, not a physician, remember?"
"If I had… had t-told you my intentions, would you have let me help you?"
Leonard opened his mouth, but nothing came out. For the first time, he acknowledged his dust-coated throat and resisted the urge to cough up a lung or two.
"Considering your mental state," Theon went on, "I did not t-think my help would be very well received."
"Bull! If you really wanted to help me, why'd you go and ruin everything by running your mouth like that about Spock? I'll tell you why. Because you only had a piece of the whole story, but you acted on it anyway because we were leaving and things weren't going the way you wanted them to. You didn't want your planet to fall prey to someone like ISS Spock, sure, but you didn't bother to get the full story because you didn't ask!"
"I fully intended to heal your mind, Doctor," Theon protested, his voice growing weaker with each passing moment. "But time slipped through my fingers, and the revelation I found about your first officer last night—"
The moisture prickling the backs of his eyes was entirely unwelcome and Leonard did his best to blink it away. "Don't you dare talk to me about last night! You can't just take what you want or…or do whatever you want and then patch it up afterwards and call it a day!"
"That is the Cursioan way of doing things."
"Yeah, well, it's not the people way of doing things. It's not the human way of doing things! It's not right. You claim to be a high scholar of human culture—you should know that."
"Perhaps," Theon replied after a long pause, his brows furrowed in more than just pain. "I have been… selfish and… foolish."
"Damn right, you have!" Without missing a beat, Leonard snatched his medkit from Spock, who had just returned, and grabbed a full hypospray. "Now, shut the hell up and let me work."
"Do you… Do you s-still wish for me to heal your mind?"
"I don't want you anywhere near my mind. Now shut up. Spock, put pressure on this, will you?"
The soft hiss of the hypo filled the air, slowing the blood flow enough for Leonard to work with the wound.
Damn Cursioans and their damn excuses.
Under the circumstances, and considering the injury in question, it was only natural that Theon wasn't making much sense. The puddle of blood soaking Leonard's knees told him as much.
Yet, a part of him felt this particular Cursioan still wouldn't have made much sense had he been among the ones who stood tall in the dining room with nary a scratch to speak of.
If he was honest, nothing made sense anymore, thanks to aliens who felt it their business to scramble his brain every now and again.
And his lack of knowhow to fix it.
As he moved along down the line, working through the floor of injured Cursioans, Leonard wished it was as easy as tying a bandage over his brain.
Because he couldn't ignore the fact that he was beginning to go crazy.
And that thought scared him half to death.