He wasn't crazy.

But having Theon on the ship made things easier somehow. If they were doomed to be together for this mission, better to be on the Enterprise.

After all, they were in his territory now.

At least, they had been. Until a certain Vulcan had to go and screw everything up.

Who am I kidding? This whole thing has been screwed up since the Halkans.

What little control he'd possessed now slipped entirely through his fingers before he'd even noticed it was gone.

Damn it, Spock...

And yet, he knew the Vulcan was only trying to help in his efficient, logical sort of way. After all, it was the logical route to move the Cursioans back to their own medical facility, especially considering the reclusive nature they seemed to possess when it came to the rest of the universe.

Still… Who knows what lies that creep'll tell his council down there while I'm up here.

The need to take the reins scratched at Leonard's skin, itching like a dozen mosquito bites.

He had to… Had to…

He just had to. Had to do something, had to say something. Had to take the controls and land this burning ship before it crashed and killed them all. Before Theon tried to use his warped excuses to wreck their whole mission.

It can't be for nothing.

Leonard filled a hypo, willing his hands not to shake.

This whole damn mission couldn't have been for nothing.

Reviving his current patient—one of the last Cursioans aboard—Leonard forced a smile.

"The surgery went better than expected," he informed the being, a young female who looked just about as confused as he felt. "You should be ready to beam down to your own hospital in less than an hour, where I'm sure you'll be more comfortable."

She nodded, offering a weak smile. "Thank you, Doctor. If you had not been there when you were… The gods must have wanted you with us for this reason alone. Thank you, truly."

"Well," he sighed, "I've come to find that things always tend to work out, and sometimes people are just in the right place at the right time. How are you feeling?"

"Well enough."

"Good. Though, if you find yourself feeling any sharp pains, I have more medication that'll help until we can get you home. Nurse Chapel should be in soon with—"

The pain was jarring, stealing his breath away for a moment and pummeling his brain. Had someone slammed a nail into his skull with a mallet, he wouldn't have known the difference between that and whatever was happening to his head now.

"Doctor, are you all right...?"

The feeling faded before he could even assess it; before he could trace it back to a source.

"Fine," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Just a headache." Migraine, probably.

Of course, McCoy. You just had to have a migraine now, of all times, didn't you?

Though rare, Leonard had been known to fight an extreme headache or two—the worst being the one that had chained him to his bed for two days. But that had been years ago, after his father…

Not now. Please, not right now…

"I'll send a nurse in to finish up with you," he continued, hoping upon hope that his voice sounded normal. In control.

A good doctor should always be in control of his medbay.

Yet, he didn't feel like a particularly good doctor at the moment…

He gave Nurse Viellia a quick update on the patient, then scrambled for another hypo. If a migraine was trying to force itself into his head, it was better to go on the offensive with the painkillers.

The painkillers that didn't seem to be doing a damn thing.

Give it a minute. It'll come.

A minute? What is this, the twenty-first century? The relief should be instantaneous—

Another stab of pain had him clutching at his forehead, squeezing it as if his palms could somehow drive out the pain.

Just… give it a minute.

A look from one of his nurses had him straightening, carding the hand through his hair. Which is, of course, what he'd meant to do all along…

"How many more Cursioans do we have to beam down?" he asked the nearest nurse. The one who hadn't been staring at him like he was the one who belonged in the OR instead of the Cursioans.

"Five total," Nurse Willis replied after a glance at his PADD. "I believe Mr. Spock wants them transported as soon as possible."

"Always so impatient," Leonard grumbled, trying for a grin that felt more like a grimace, "he and Jim. As soon as they're stable, I want them all cleared for transportation to the planet's surface. Make sure you get the coordinates set right. Don't want them beaming into a storage closet instead of a recovery room."

The joke fell flat, but Willis laughed anyway. A pity chuckle if Leonard ever heard one—and he'd heard plenty over the course of his life.

Just when he had made up his mind to open his mouth and save the joke, Willis tilted his head.

"Are you all right, Doctor?"

Leonard tried his very best not to growl. "You know, I'm starting to get tired of that question. Do I really look that haggered to you?"

"More like… pale. And a little green, sir."

"Well." Leonard rolled his eyes because when in doubt, go for sarcasm. Come on, Bones, I know you. You're always the grumpiest when something's wrong. So, what's wrong…?

Shut up, Jim.

"You try going through hours of surgery after surviving a category six earthquake and then see if you don't come out looking a little pale." Willis seemed about ready to make a comeback, but Leonard was done listening. All anyone ever wanted him to do these days was listen. "Let Christine know I'll be finishing up a few things in my office, if she needs me."

With that, he disappeared behind the safety of his office door. And if he grabbed another hypo on the way there, well… it was his own damn medbay, wasn't it?

I can do whatever the hell I—

The burst in his head outdid the explosion in his kneecaps tenfold, but the latter was his only clue that he'd hit the floor.

What the—?

It was unlike any migraine he'd ever braved before and it had him staggering to the couch. The hypo pressed against his neck did nothing but sting his skin as the useless formula soaked into his bloodstream and the headache raged on.

"Can you hear me…?"

Hear

Cancancan

Youcanyou—

Stop.

It seemed like ages until he could do anything except lay curled on himself in a tight ball of agony.

What on earth is wrong with you, McCoy?

What is wrong with you...?

He couldn't tell if the painkillers were actually doing their job now or if he was just imagining they were. Whatever the case, Leonard was finally able to ease himself into a sitting position.

Can you hear me...?

"Doctor..."

Get out.

"I assure you, this will be painless."

He sucked in a breath, but no air came.

Ourmindsare as—

One our minds, areourare

Minds are as—

For a second, his hand flew to the communicator on his belt.

"Spock, I... I need…"

Breathe, idiot.

"Spock, I need you to…"

But he wasn't a child afraid of the dark, and he wasn't to pretend to be, either. Spock had helped him during a panic, sure, but it something Leonard wasn't going to make a habit of having him do.

Not when this mission is so important.

Is it?

Shut up.

It is.

It had to be important.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Leonard banished the last vestiges of pain from his mind, ignoring the way his skull seemed to tremble in the aftermath of the strain.

All that suffering wasn't for nothing. It couldn't have been for nothing.

And for the first time since that call, he found himself wishing he hadn't given Spock permission to tell Jim.

It's over with, anyhow. Why does everyone have to keep talking about it?

You honestly believe that?

Nail dug into his palm, but Leonard didn't have the energy to stop them.

No.

No, of course, it's not. Not when that idiot had to go and tell the whole council that Spock was a traitor.

Stupid, blasted Cursioans and their meddling. Stupid, damn Cursioans and their excuses. Stupid—

The next stab was lighter this time, almost as if only a ghost of the former attacks. A residual, phantom pain that hadn't yet tasted the wrath of strength five painkillers.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"Get out of my mind."

No, you're out of your mind.

I'm not crazy.

Right, because normal people's minds rebel against them all the time.

I'm not…

I swear, I'm not—

Leonard leaned forward, hands pressed against his face, fingers digging into his forehead.

I'm not crazy.

No... No, McCoy, you're just broken.

And maybe…

Maybe that was worse…

Maybe crazy was better after all.

Jim massaged his aching head. There was no point in hiding it now, anyway. He could tell Minister Aedon was getting as tired of this discussion as he and Spock were.

Unfortunately, the other council members seemed to just be getting started.

"How are we supposed to take your word without any proof?" One of the Cursioans shot Spock a glare and Jim bit back a sigh.

Though Spock was handling it like a pro—the epitome of logical calm—even Jim was getting tired of the questions. And irritated.

Because this was getting them nowhere.

"You don't need proof," Jim said, noting the frustration bleeding into his voice and not caring enough to rein it back in. "That's why it's called taking my word for it."

"And why should we take your word?" Another questioned. "You have no standing with us."

"Yes, we just met you! For all we know, this entire thing is a ploy for the Federation to take over our planet!"

"The Federation," and geez, Jim was beyond relieved Spock had decided to take point on this one, "is not in the habit of acquiring planets through force and deceit, nor has it ever been."

"And it never will be," Jim added for good measure. "Our intentions toward you have always been honest and honorable."

Yours, on the other hand…

Whatever was going on here—whatever had been going on for the last few days—wasn't going to be solved by this meeting, which was little more than a venue for the High Council to point their proverbial daggers at Spock.

All because of breakfast and that one Cursioan who wasn't even here.

Jim tightened his fist. He needed answers, not accusations.

"Minister," he sighed at last, fixing his gaze upon Aedon, "perhaps it would be in both parties' best interest to put the negotiations on hold for a moment. Your people are recovering from disaster and my people..." Bones... It took effort, but Jim forced himself not to squeeze his eyes shut. "There are things I have to see to back on my ship. Though we came here on a purely diplomatic mission, Starfleet will do everything in its power to aid in the recovery of your city. Until we can stabilize the situation, I don't think now is the time for negotiation."

The minister considered this for a long while. So long, Jim began to wonder if his speech had fallen on deaf ears.

"I..." Aedon said eventually, "... agree with you, Captain Kirk. The chaos of the quake is only adding to the confusion that has taken hold of our High Council. We will put the negotiations on hold until further notice. Everyone is dismissed."

As the council members filtered out of the room, Jim didn't miss the looks they shot at his first officer.

Oh, Spock… What the hell is going on here...?

Though his head throbbed, he resisted the urge to rub it again. There wasn't any use in appearing overly fatigued.

"Minister," Jim said once the majority of the council had dispersed, "the earthquake isn't the only reason I feel it best to stop our negotiations."

"Do go on, Captain."

"I think there's a lot we have to discuss, you and I, starting with what Theon said this morning."

"Yes." The Cursioan nodded, a slow, cautious motion. "His accusations have brought much confusion to my council—and to me, as well. You say your first officer is the most loyal being you've ever met, and yet, Theon presents such damning evidence against him."

"Actually, he hasn't given us any evidence against Spock," Jim countered. "Just words."

"And what about your doctor?" Aedon's brows furrowed in deep thought. "He spoke as if he knew what my council member was referring to. Words from one are just words, but words from two present truth."

What about Bones?

Sucking in a breath, Jim stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Minister, I..." His chuckle felt force as it burned through his throat. "I have to apologize. I'm all over the place, but... Before we discuss this, there are... things I have to check on… If you'll excuse us. We'll be in contact."

"Of course, Captain Kirk. Whatever you need to do to bring about resolution."

The second they stepped out of the conference room, Jim sucked in another breath, taking in the fresh air.

It was starting to get suffocating in there...

He glanced at the stoic Vulcan strolling beside him. "You were awfully quiet in there."

Spock took a moment to reply. That was unsettling in and of itself, only to be outdone by the even more unsettling reply.

"I did not have much to say."

"Usually, your logic is infallible. Why didn't you throw some of it at them?"

Spock made no reply, unless Jim counted the slight, very un-Vulcan-like shrug of his shoulders.

And he definitely wasn't going to count that.

"Spock, what's going on?" Silence. Jim braced himself for the worst. "Come on, there's something you're not telling me. I know there is, so out with it."

"I think..." Spock tilted his head. "I think we should check on Doctor M'Benga and his medical team."

"Nope. We're not doing this anymore. I can't help the negotiations, or you, or Bones, for that matter, if I don't even know what the hell is going on here!"

"That is another point I hoped you would bring up, Captain. It is my opinion not only that the negotiations be put on hold, but that they do not continue at all."

"And why not?"

Nothing. Nothing but pursed lips and that absolutely infuriating Vulcan stare.

"Why not, Spock?"

Silence.

"Spock," Jim tried once more, his voice taking on a quiet tone, "what happened to Bones?"

Here, Spock stopped, his feet seemingly rooted to the hall floor.

"Spock...?"

"Jim, there is..." He cleared his throat, but not nearly fast enough. Jim still caught the trace of emotion. "There is something we need to discuss..."

"I'm all ears," Jim whispered. "I always have been."

"What I'm about to say..." And damned if this new, hesitant Spock wasn't giving Jim the heebie jeebies. "The doctor has given me full permission to share... However, we must proceed with caution in the event that all the members of the High Council share the same sort of mindset."

"About what?"

Honestly, it was like prying a dangerous object out of the hands of a baby.

It shouldn't be this hard, damn it.

Now you're starting to sound like Bones...

He wanted to say something. Anything. To pull something more out of Spock, something that would make sense.

But his throat was too dry, so he kept his jaw locked.

"The Cursioans," Spock continued after a long moment of silence, "are quite powerful. Far more powerful than they have led us to believe. What their minds are capable of surpasses even some of the greatest beings we have encountered. Left unchecked, they can cause severe damage... Damage done under the veil of cultural difference, good intention, and... and..."

When Spock closed his eyes, Jim held his breath, not daring even to blink.

"I have a hunch, and if I am correct—and I pray I am not—Cursioa would not be a safe planet to have in the Federation. Far from it."

"Spock." Jim swallowed, a vain attempt to clear his throat. "What. Happened. To Bones."

Only then, did Spock truly begin to tell his story.

And only then, did Jim truly begin to understand.

Understand how blind he had been.

Understand that they were all tangled in the middle of a sticky spider's web.

And for the first time, he didn't know if he could get them all out.