This was originally supposed to be an answer for the Whumptober prompt of "Hit them harder," and it refused to become whump, so have a lil slice of life instead.
Spoilers for Return of the Archons and Dagger of the Mind. Time reference for people who don't commit the episode order to memory: Archons takes place before Mirror, Mirror.
After almost a year, Spock now knows better than to ignore a Medical summons for psychological evaluation.
He could, technically, decline or defer it until a more convenient time, provided there is no physical indication such examination is required; regulations say as much, particularly for ranking officers. As he is Vulcan, there should never be such indication, and so he should never be forced to comply immediately, short of a state of unconsciousness.
However, the one time some months into their voyage that he had declined such a summons, as was technically his right, it had not ended as expected.
He had politely declined, and then finished his shift on the Bridge – all while being subjected to a nearly non-stop barrage of both relevant and irrelevant questions, snide comments addended to his Science reports, incorrect xenobiological research articles being randomly sent to his scanner, and even an assortment of what Spock believes the humans call 'knock-knock jokes'. For the entirety of the working shift.
The cumulative effect of minor annoyances was not insignificant, and the fact that each arrived precisely 120 seconds apart indicated an algorithmic program implemented for the express purpose of annoying the First Officer of the ship. The only logical conclusion, would be that their CMO was on a one-human mission to make Spock's life as unpleasant as possible until the doctor got what he desired.
A most distracting turn of events, and certainly an immature one. It was, however, somewhat effective. When even his great stores of Vulcan patience had run out, he had been forced to comply, if for no other reason than to re-attain some semblance of peace and quiet. However, this does not indicate he wishes a repeat occurrence, and so preventative actions must be taken.
Admittedly disgruntled about the entire affair, he vocalizes concern for this abrasive and barely medico-ethical methodology to the captain, over breakfast the following morning.
Kirk listens to him with appropriate solemnity, though it is fairly evident that he finds the matter of amusement more than concern.
"So…why, exactly, didn't you just go, the first time he asked?" he inquires mildly, when Spock has finished.
Spock raises an eyebrow.
"Yes, I am well aware that I'm calling the kettle black here – don't act like you haven't heard the idiom, you're not fooling me, mister – but I at least have learned the hard way it's easier just to do what he says."
"Have you indeed."
"I said I've learned, not that it's changed my behavior in any way," Kirk retorts, grinning. "But if you want to make every medical exam an exercise in verbal warfare, well. That's certainly your prerogative as an officer, Mr. Spock, provided it doesn't hinder ship's operations. But if it were me, I'd probably just accept my fate."
Spock stares across the table in consternation.
"Mm-mm. Even I am not brave enough to get in the middle of whatever this is," Kirk adds, though he is clearly more entertained than any other such emotion. He tips his cup toward the table where the doctor in question is breaking fast with three Medical crewmen, then back at himself in a dramatic, waggling gesture. "I am the Neutral Zone in this skirmish, Mr. Spock."
"You are unhelpful," Spock replies dryly, and is unconscionably gratified when the human nearly fills his sinuses with the remainder of his coffee.
But by the present time, some months after this event, Spock has adjusted his expectations to meet Medical ones, and despite his initial misgivings (and ongoing concerns), they have found some kind of middle ground, particularly where Spock's health is concerned. The doctor only requires an examination when there is clear and obvious grounds for one, and Spock has ceased being so intensely secretive about his Vulcan physiology and psychology during said examinations. It is not a perfect system, but then such systems rarely are, when humans are involved.
Spock finds it, therefore, somewhat disconcerting to receive a visitor in medical capacity requesting entrance to his personal quarters this evening, rather than a summons to Sickbay. He had planned to spend the off-duty time in meditation, to re-order the mind and body after the strange events which had just transpired on Beta III.
It would appear their Chief Medical Officer has other plans.
"Ugh, I forgot your baseline environmental settings are basically surface of the sun," the doctor grumbles as he enters the cabin, data-padd under one arm. He rocks slightly at the increased gravity before adjusting to it on the next step. "How on earth does Jim stand it in here when you're playin' chess?"
"With additional hydration, and a much-abbreviated tactical strategy," he replies, matter-of-fact. "However, I do not believe you are here for that reason, so please state your business, Doctor."
"Friendly tonight, aren't we." McCoy settles into the chair opposite Spock's desk, despite the fact that Spock has not given any invitation to do so.
Interesting. "Do you typically consider our interactions to be friendly, Doctor?" he inquires, genuinely curious.
There is a moment of vague, non-committal spluttering, before the doctor plows ahead with all the subtlety of a phaser array, bypassing the question entirely and obviously expecting Spock to drop the matter as well.
Even more interesting. Perhaps their 'aggressive collaboration style,' as the captain recently called it, is not as based on the human emotion of irritation as one might think.
"Anyway, I got your message earlier. I was already coming down to ask Jim a few questions about the Archons, you just bumped up the timeline a little."
"I do not follow that train of logic to the outcome of leading you here, Doctor."
"Can't I check up on a crewman after a tense mission?"
"Technically, yes, but it is highly irregular to do so in their private cabin."
"Well, this wasn't a regular mission, now was it. So. Are you doing all right?"
"For what reason would I not be?"
Blue eyes roll ceiling-ward in a clear prayer for patience. "You tell me, Spock."
He is rapidly losing patience. "Tell you what, Doctor?"
"Tell me why you and Jim each made an unofficial recommendation that I check on the other one tonight," McCoy drawls, dry as desert sand. "You two are gonna be the death of me someday, you know that? I do not do house calls on this ship, Commander."
Spock blinks at him in confusion. While he had indeed suggested the doctor look in on Jim tonight, it was because Spock is aware of how upset the captain had been at having to nearly choke out their peaceable CMO for the sake of keeping their identities a secret. Both he and Kirk abhor violence as a means to an end; but being forced to enact it on a being one is close to, has an even deeper and more painful connotation for an emotional human.
"I am aware I made that recommendation, Doctor, as the captain was visibly disturbed by the events which transpired. However, I do not understand why he would do the same, in reverse."
"Well," McCoy says slowly, flicking a finger over the report he has open on the padd, "apparently you belted one of the Archons across the face instead of nerve pinching them, during y'all's final jailbreak?" He glances up, and offers Spock a disbelieving frown. "You denying that?"
"Negative."
It had certainly been a lapse, and is one of the primary reasons Spock had planned to meditate most thoroughly tonight, as even he does not entirely understand the primal urge which had overridden Vulcan control in this instance. He had been unaware that Jim had really noted the fact, other than a humorous quip about archaic methodology at the time.
Spock should have known better; that particular human sees far more than he appears to, and with far more clarity than most. It is very disconcerting.
"Well, you of all people waking up and choosing violence would be cause enough to worry me, much less him. What possessed you, Spock?"
"Nothing, Doctor. In fact, the captain and I were the only two ranking members of the landing party not being possessed by the mechanical entity."
"Hm." McCoy eyes him with disconcerting attention. Spock feels the appalling and unaccountably human urge to squirm. "See, at first I thought it must be because you're so secretive about that mind-magic you do, and the threat of assimilation was terrifying, even if it was painless. I assume it was, anyway. I don't remember anything until the brain fog cleared."
"That 'mind-magic,' as you call it, Doctor, is not a process I will discuss with you or any other human. I have already made a complete medical report on this matter, and my Vulcan cultural traditions have no relevance to it."
"I read the report," the doctor replies calmly. "But I'm not thrilled about the fact that you were rummaging around in my brain, even if it was justified for medical reasons."
Aghast, he shakes his head before McCoy is even finished, resulting in a curious look.
"There was no mental contact made, Doctor; that would be more of a violation than the assimilation by Landru was. I was merely ascertaining if it…"
"If it what?"
"If it were mind-control, or a mind-wipe," he says, matter-of-fact. "The consequences of each are drastically different, and one holds indication of permanence. A fringe impression only is required to ascertain this, for a touch-telepath."
"So it was what, less or more invasive than what you did when I had Simon VanGelder in my Sickbay? Because that was medically necessary, too."
"Significantly less invasive. My mind-joining with Dr. VanGelder was a mutually consensual sharing of knowledge, and involved actual mental contact between us. To do so with one party unable to agree is not acceptable, short of life-threatening circumstances."
He is grateful, that Van Gelder had been semi-cognizant enough to agree, as crossing that line would have been a violation Spock is not comfortable with. Even for Jim.
"I guess I have to take your word for it. So this was, what – the telepathic equivalent of a medical scan?"
"A relatively close analogy, Doctor. I assure you, there was no intent other than to ascertain if those assimilated were still within the mind, somewhere."
"And you were able to ascertain that, non-invasively?"
"Correct. Until that moment, we had no way of knowing the process was reversible, much less reversible without lasting psychological trauma if we were to destroy the mechanical entity responsible. The information could have been of importance once we reached the heart of the machine, and so was medically necessary to ascertain before proceeding."
"I'd like more information about all this at some point, because it seems like there a big gray area there that your people aren't very forthcoming about." The doctor turns the padd off and sits back in the chair. "But for now it can wait, I think. So you're telling me you just, what, decided to implement physical violence on a guard as a purely calculated, logical action?"
"As you say, Doctor."
"That's not a yes, that's a sidestep," McCoy points out sharply.
"Doctor, I assure you, it was a momentary lapse of control, brought on by the knowledge that time was short, and more pronounced due to insufficient opportunity to reinforce the balance of my mental equilibrium the previous night. Something I plan to remedy as soon as we are finished here."
"Mmhm."
"Do you have a medical inquiry, Doctor? Because if you do not, I would prefer to return to my meditation."
"No follow-up questions right now," McCoy replies, still looking unsettlingly pensive. "Provided I can ask you a few at a later date. If you don't agree to that," he adds, emphasizing the words with clinical precision, "then I have to report an instance of concerning anomalous behavior, just like I'd flag any similar deviation in a human's psych profile."
The choice is unpleasant, but at least the former option would mean enough delay that Spock's responses will be more considered than they would now, being taken off-guard in the present moment. And potentially, the matter might be forgotten about entirely, though that does not seem likely. Whilst obviously wary of the subject, McCoy seems to have a strange affinity for learning about it, which is unusual in a human.
A sudden, almost eerie sense of foreboding solidifies his decision, though there is no real logic or justifiable reasoning for it. This will bear further reflection.
"I will agree to discussion at an undetermined future time, Doctor."
"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it." A brief smile, and McCoy stands, swiping the padd back under his arm. "I'll hold you to it, Commander."
"I have no doubt of that," he replies, somewhat dismally. "You have proven to be a particularly unstoppable force in medical matters."
"I'll take that as the bizarre Vulcan compliment I think it is," McCoy retorts, grinning. "And who knows, Mr. Spock. We might just end up being friendly after all."