It's no real secret to those who know him that McCoy tends to be a nervous wreck. Calm under pressure, yes: when the chips are down he can steel his nerves like nobody's business, but the lives of every person on the Enterprise sit heavily on him, and they rub him raw. He worries about the future and obsesses over the past, sitting in his quarters imagining dire situations gone wrong - past failures and potential future dangers.
He worries, terribly, about his friends. About the day that might come when he cannot save them. Night terrors haunt his sleep, and intrusive hypotheticals consume his waking hours. But he has always had the reassurance that none of those nightmares were real. That he could release his pent up anxiety by venting to Jim, or ensnaring himself in an argument with Spock.
Until today.
Bones stared, frozen at the horrorshow in front of him, convinced that he would wake up at any moment. This was a dream - a terrible dream. The Enterprise hadn't even left on that training voyage yet and he was going to wake up drenched in sweat and tears in his own bed any minute now and Spock wouldn't be… wouldn't be…
Spock's crumpled form lay still and silent against the glass, Jim mirroring his position, wet unseeing eyes staring into nowhere. Only the heaving of the Admiral's chest betrayed the life within those limbs, his hollow 'no' long having faded into the halls of engineering.
There is a restless energy from behind McCoy - no one has moved yet, no one has dared, but people are starting to get antsy. They can't stay here forever. Jerking, halting, McCoy forces his feet to carry him forward until he kneels beside Jim. Jim doesn't see him - just keeps staring into nothing, tears tracking down his face.
Be strong, Leonard. Be strong now, for Jim. You may have lost one of your closest friends, but he's lost his t'hy'la.
Leonard reached out a single shaking hand to clasp Jim's shoulder. Jim jerks, eyes meeting Bones' for the first time. Wide and helpless and uncomprehending - is this what it means to lose a soulmate? Jim slouches forward into Leonard's arms, and actually sobs, childlike, as Leonard helplessly rubs his back.
Jim has never cried in front of his crew before. Not once. But he fists Bones' uniform now, and his cries echo throughout the chamber.
But, something seems to have broken in him - he is no longer dissociated from reality: despite his pain, his mind has caught up with his body. And his indomitable will claws to regain his lost control. Jim's sobs quickly peter out, and he drags a hand over his swollen face.
Wordlessly, Bones helps him stumble to his feet, both of them turning to gaze at Spock's crumpled form at their feet.
Jim ducks his head, pulling pieces of The Captain around him like a tattered blanket, or a shield, and McCoy reaches into his bag of tricks to shove a hypospray into his arm. So much for the swollen face, and a stimulant to keep him on his feet. The captain cannot be broken at a time like this - he must be strong for his crew.
Jim has had his moment to break, but they need more from him now. More from him and from McCoy. Jim steals a glance at the warp core - it will still need hours to decontaminate - then turns back to Bones.
"I've got to… get to the bridge."
Bones nods. "I'll be in medbay. Don't worry, Captain - we'll take good care of him. I'll let you know when you can see him again."
Jim nods sharply, the simple reminder almost more than he can take and he straightens his uniform, striding out of Engineering without looking back.
Somewhere behind him, Scotty is starting to herd his staff into productivity, and Engineering slowly comes to life all around him. He has to get back to medbay. He was on call here, but now that the crisis is over people will be pouring in and… Dr Chaple ought to have things well in hand, but McCoy is still the CMO and he'll have to walk in there and tell her…
…Sweet mercy, he's going to have to tell Christine. They're going to have to tell so many people… Chapel has gotten over her crush on Spock for years, but he was still special to her, to have to tell her will…
Bones imagines Jim, commanding officer of this vessel, being forced to write that final letter to Spock's family, to give written voice to the maelstrom raging in his chest.
McCoy finds himself striding down the halls, feet guiding him to medbay on autopilot. Part of him protests that he's left his patient behind, that he can't leave now… he tries to shut it out. A patient. He needs to find another patient, he can't lose himself in his work until he has something to do…
Sickbay's doors slide open before him, and even the hallways outside have started to fill with the overflowing wounded. Find Christine - she'll know what needs to be focused on now.
Dr Chaple turns to see him, flashing him a brief smile that only barely touches her eyes. "Dr McCoy! Looks like we made it out of another one, hm?"
He nods, slowly. Later, tell her later… but she knows him too well, and freezes, face falling in an instant.
"Who is it?"
He shakes his head - just let him escape, please don't ask this of him now - but she presses, intent.
"Just tell me; I have to know. It isn't… the admiral?"
Bones shakes his head - he doesn't have the strength to fight her on this, not now, so he steels himself again, and grasps her shoulders and looks her in the eye, remembering that schoolgirl crush with the halting advances and puts it out of his mind and tries to make this moment about her feelings.
"No, Christine. I'm… I'm sorry but… It's Spock." There's more he wants to say, about how Spock saved the ship; saved them all but it dies as Christine's face shatters and she jerks backward, unsteady on her feet. She doesn't fall, and he can't see her face with her head bowed, but her shoulders tense and shake before she forces herself straight, with only a hint of sheen on her eyes.
She's grown into herself, this woman, and McCoy has rarely been so proud of her. She will be strong enough to work through her own grief, but she will not do it now.
"Thank you, Doctor", she manages, composing herself, before gesturing to a row of beds beside her. "We need your help with the burn victims - electrical burns are coming in from almost every deck."
Bones nods and shuffles off, desperate to lose himself in each new patient and only occasionally jolted into the past by a particularly scarred face, or exceptionally ruined flesh.
