One of the benefits of looking at the world through the lens of logic, Spock had discovered at an early age, was that it made emotional stability more than just achievable—it made it easy.
It was easy to ignore McCoy's insults when his temper was high because logic told Spock the doctor didn't mean a word. Humans, especially that one, tended to make harsh comments in anger or when under duress.
It was easy to keep McCoy's secret because, logically, revealing such information, even to the captain, would no doubt compromise the mission.
Though, I suppose that has already been done…
Keeping his emotions in check even as he stood in the aftermath of an earthquake was easy because unchecked anger and anxiety never did anything to aid the situation, and were therefore illogical.
Staying calm while gazing down upon the Cursioan who had so horribly assaulted his friend was hard.
It wasn't logical, what this alien had done, and so Spock found it difficult to apply logic to his current situation. Because it wasn't logical, this feeling… this burning desire to strangle the councilman right there in his hospital bed and blame it on a failed recovery. It wasn't logical to crave revenge over reparation.
And it wasn't logical to visit this particular Cursioan when he and Jim had a meeting with the well members of the High Council in less than ten minutes.
In that moment, however, as he noted the soft click of the door locking behind him, Spock wasn't feeling particularly logical.
For a time, he simply studied the being. Theon's blue skin was two shades too pale and the medical tubes and apparatuses attached to his limbs made him look less the intimidating council member and more the weak, depraved perpetrator Spock now knew him to be.
Nurse Chapel had followed his instructions to the letter and had the Cursioans beamed down to their own medical facility as soon as they were stable.
Fortunately for Spock, going over McCoy's head when the situation called for it had never been a problem for her.
Three seconds after Theon's eyes fluttered open was all Spock could wait before opening his mouth. He had intended to study the Cursioan longer; to let him sit and squirm under a hard Vulcan stare.
In the end, the words slipped out before he could stop them.
"Until last night, I had considered yours to be a rational race." Though Theon opened his mouth, Spock was determined to keep the upper hand. "Granted, your council does seem to enjoy slow, agonizing deliberation, but your people have shown nothing less than respect, dignity, and a rationality akin to Vulcan logic." At this, he narrowed his eyes. "Until now. Why?"
Theon took a moment to reply, his lips pursed while his mind worked. "I would guess you are referring… to the doctor."
"Playing the incompetent innocent is, in this case, not in your best interest. I suppose you do still have some of your logic intact after all. Looks truly can be deceiving." Spock let this settle over the Cursioan for a time, tightening his hand around the wrist behind his back—his only defense against the emotion that yearned to clench his fists until his nails dug deep and his palms bled green.
"This begs my next question: to what purpose did you and your people conceal your powers? Not only did I hear from Doctor McCoy about your incredible mental abilities, but I also saw it with my own eyes in the aftermath of the earthquake."
"Is it wrong to conceal what no one inquires about?"
"A lie by omission is still a lie," Spock countered, his tone the essence of calm even as his blood boiled. "You accuse the Federation of deceiving your council, and yet you've all been deceiving us the entire time we have been on this planet."
"Unintentionally. Not all of us possess such mental capabilities"
"Ah." Spock nodded. "Of course. Everything you do seems to be unintentional."
The click of Theon's jaw echoed through the small room. "I had intended to fix your doctor's mind. I miscalculated the amount of time I would have to..." After a shake of his head, the injured being winced. "I... I'm a scholar. I was studying... I was just... studying. However, after talking with the doctor, I... Well, I fear the Cursioan way of doing things is not aligned with the ways of the human species..."
A study.
Spock fought the shiver that threatened his frame.
A study...
"Spock, I need you to... t-to help me clear my mind..."
All this because of a study.
"As a scholar," Spock began, choosing his next words carefully, "I would think you'd have an understanding of basic... morality."
"Show me how to shut off my emotions..."
Theon tilted his head. "Our cultures are vastly different—"
"I can't..."
"—And the Cursioans do not value privacy in the same way that humans do."
"You have t-to show me. There has t-to be a way to... t-to..."
"And yet, being a specialist in the study of human culture, this knowledge should have served as a guideline for your behavior toward your human guests."
"P-Please, just..."
"Knowing a fact and putting it into practice," Theon began slowly, "are two very different things, especially when it is not something one is accustomed to doing."
"Just..."
"Even if you are not used to the concept," Spock shot back, "invading someone's room, holding them down, and forcibly prying into their mind does not come close to even being considered an argument about privacy."
"... Spock!"
As Theon's jolting laugh bounced off the walls, Leonard's pleas faded into the background of Spock's mind, overpowered by the rising buzz in his ears.
The buzz of rage.
"And what of you?" Theon spat. "If anyone were to understand my actions, it would be you. I have discovered that we are very alike, you and I."
"I am nothing like you. What you did was, to put it lightly, abominable. Taking a mind and tearing into it without consent… Such an action is punishable by death on Vulcan. Fortunately for you, we're 112.02 parsecs away from my planet."
"I saw you." Though it clearly seemed to take no small amount of effort, Theon jabbed his long finger at Spock, tubes and tech dangling. "You did the very thing you accuse me of to Doctor McCoy, and it was your act that caused his mind such pain in the first place."
Breathing shouldn't have become such a chore.
"When?"
"The night before the earthquake."
Spock finally felt the sharp sting of nails against palm.
"Where?"
"In his quarters."
"I wasn't in his quarters that night." He was in mine.
Because of you.
"Of course, you weren't, but you were in his mind." Spock felt his own mind shift into warp ten as he frantically fought to piece together this enigma. "Even with the beard, your face was unmistakable. Everything about that memory was a painful blur—I could feel it just as deeply as if the memory had been my own—everything except you. You were crystal clear."
Even with the…
"Jim, I think I liked him with a beard better. It gave him character. Of course, almost any change would be a distinct improvement."
The banter had felt so easy; McCoy hadn't betrayed a single emotion, hiding everything behind that thick veil of sarcasm.
Not one of us ever noticed.
I never noticed…
"May I point out that I had an opportunity to observe your counterparts here quite closely. They were brutal, savage, unprincipled, uncivilized, treacherous…"
Hadn't Jim tried to convince him that the Spock of that world had been the opposite of such traits?
"There was something about him, Spock… He was different from the rest. I think he's going to be the hope of that universe."
Images of McCoy's shuddering frame pummeled his brain.
"Spock, I need you to... t-to help me clear my mind..."
Brutal.
"Then, why did it hurt so much…?"
"I… I don't know."
Savage.
"If one of your own can cause such pain without your knowledge, how many others in your Federation are capable of such treachery?"
Unprincipled.
"Tell them! Give them your proof and tell them what you saw! Admit that you're no better than he was! Tell them, damn it!"
Uncivilized.
"Perhaps there is something we're missing. Perhaps—"
"Forget it, Spock. It's not important…"
And treacherous—
Speaking took more effort this time around and it was all Spock could do to keep from clearing his tightening throat; to keep his voice from breaking in two.
"You caused quite a commotion in the dining hall, however, your accusations might not be entirely unfounded. If you wish for this… misunderstanding between the Federation and your planet to be resolved, you'll tell me about that memory. In your own time, of course, but preferably soon. For the sake of your already fragile health…"
"Is that a threat, Mr. Spock?"
"It's an incentive, Councilman."
"Spock, must you always be right?" The doctor's usual comment echoed across his racing thoughts.
And for the first time in his life, Spock began to pray that he was wrong… Even as the logic of the revelation continued to bring forth the damning proof that he was right.
Listening to Theon confirm this fact only added to the numbness settling into Spock's bones.
Jim said they had left Leonard for mere minutes.
Alone.
With my ISS counterpart.
And McCoy never uttered a word about it.
"What you did to his mind," Theon concluded, wincing as he shifted in his bed, "did far more damage than my simple explorations ever could. At least I had the intention to heal. How long have you turned a blind eye to your doctor's turmoil?"
How long…
"I hate those damn things."
Jim's hand on McCoy's shoulder.
"I know, Bones. I know."
Standing in the hall, that desperate, muted glint in the doctor's eyes.
"Jim… How long do we have to stay here…?"
The garden.
"Doctor, I have noticed that the Cursioans seem to be in the process of replanting some of their gardens."
"You'd think they'd clean up when they were done, or at least have some sort of sign posted..."
How long, indeed.
"An explanation is in order." Keeping his tone clipped and tight was Spock's only defense against the wretched emotions. "What you saw in that memory occurred in a different universe. I was not the one who did that to the doctor, but my wicked counterpart."
To Spock's surprise, Theon nodded. "McCoy mentioned something about that, though it goes far beyond my understanding and comprehension… There are no other universes but our own."
"So your lack of understanding is your excuse for placing the blame on me? You are content to keep only a small portion of the picture because it allows you to shift the blame?"
"Perhaps I am mistaken, though what I've seen has put great doubt in my mind about you and your Federation."
"As your actions have put doubt in my mind about you and your council. An entire species cannot be condemned for the deeds of one being, yet with all your shortcomings, you still secured a position of power in your government. How many more on your council are like you? How many more would dig into the minds of foreign visitors for their own personal gain, and without second thought or moral conviction?"
"It would seem, then," Theon replied, offering no further explanations or answers, "that both our parties are at an impasse."
"If I know the Captain, he will try to find a way to make this work out for all involved, but you and I are certainly at an impasse."
The being furrowed his brows. "How so?"
"My duty to Starfleet dictates that I must do everything in my power to complete this mission, and yet I cannot in good conscience permit your government to join with ours. Not as long as you remain on the High Council, and your defensiveness and perceived innocence make it clear you don't intend to leave your position any time soon."
A nod. "That is correct."
"Then logically, if we can't get this sorted out between us, Cursioa will have no alliance with the Federation." I will make sure of it.
"What are your terms?"
"Reparation." Spock took a step forward. "Somehow, some way, you must make reparations with the doctor for what you've done. And you'll start by confessing everything to your council upon your recovery, then to Captain Kirk."
McCoy had sworn him to secrecy, but that had been before Theon's abrupt accusations. Before the earthquake. Before every went to hell, as the doctor would say.
Did the promise still stand? Or did the fact that everything was slowly working its way out into the open mean he was now free to help the healing process along?
"Don't tell Jim. It'll ruin everything."
Well, everything was pretty much ruined at the moment, anyway…
At this, Spock was reminded of the meeting he was no doubt late for by now, but before he could think much about it—and before Theon could even open his mouth to reply—a familiar chime filled the room.
Spock had his hand on his communicator in seconds, ready for Jim's reminder. Ready for the inevitable Come on, Spock, where are you?
"I'm sure you have much to think about, however, don't fool yourself into thinking this is the end of our discussion." Spock left Theon with that, unlocking the door and stepping out into the hall.
"Spock here."
Instead of Jim, McCoy's voice crackled through the tiny speaker.
"Spock! What the hell did you do with my patients? Do you know how incredibly stupid it is to beam down someone in critical condition?"
Hello to you, too, Leonard.
"I instructed Nurse Chapel not to transport anyone until they had reached a stable condition."
"And that's another thing! Going behind my back to steal away my patients. Are you out of your Vulcan mind? How could you put Christine in that position?"
"I had thought it would be both beneficial to you and the Cursioans if certain patients were returned to their medical facility down here on the planet instead of having them linger on the Enterprise."
"You thought? You thought? What about my thoughts, huh? What about what I want? You know, it's been a hell of a long time since anyone on this blasted mission has stopped to think about that. For a moment there, I didn't think you were one of them."
"Doctor, considering the circumstances—"
"I had everything under control!" And if McCoy's voice cracked, Spock was the last person who would point it out. "I had everything…" A frustrated, pained sound filtered through the line, followed shortly by a sigh. "Never mind. Is Jim there?"
"I am on my way to meet with him as we speak," Spock responded, noting the way his feet remained rooted to the floor.
"… Did you tell him?"
"As I said, it is not my story to tell."
A moment passed and Spock could almost hear the gears grinding in the doctor's mind.
"Everything…" McCoy took a breath. "Everything's so messed up now, anyway. I can't screw it up more than I already have, so you might as well just tell him and get the damn secret out already. At least if it comes from you, I won't have to see that stupid look of pity and guilt on his face."
"The captain isn't the only one with a habit of blaming himself." None of this is your fault, Leonard.
McCoy made no comment on that, choosing instead to suck in a breath. "Well, I… I have things to do up here that I have to get back to, so…"
"Theon told me about what happened to your mind." The words burned on the tip of his tongue, yet Spock couldn't bring himself to say them.
Not yet.
Not when the situation was already so unstable.
Not when McCoy was so unstable…
"Spock?"
He swallowed. "Yes, Doctor?"
"Don't let… Well, just make sure…" A soft curse broke McCoy's verbal fumbling. "Part of me wants to just drop this whole thing, it'd be so much easier that way, and I'm no stranger to not getting closure, but… Spock, don't let that bastard get away with anything else while I'm up here."
"I won't, Doctor."
I promise.
"McCoy out."
Taking a breath, Spock pocketed the device, his mind working overtime to dispel every unwanted emotion. Every seed of doubt, every thread of anger and regret, every twist of guilt.
"How long have you turned a blind eye to your doctor's turmoil?"
He would give the captain an abbreviated version of McCoy's story, if only to slow the negotiations for a moment.
Slow them enough for everyone to breathe, to think.
And for Spock to decide the best way to reveal his own prying into the ISS incident.
For the best way to tell McCoy that he knew.
And to find the best way to fix it all.