Night 58: M41-M50 Hallway

[corvus_veritas]

[M41]

For the first time that Byrne could remember in the four or five days he'd been here, the night began without any sort of dramatic fanfare. No mysterious intercom broadcast, no creepy static, no doctors coming in to drag him away again, no nothing. Just the usual unlocking of the doors and silence.

The staff were trying to find new ways to

Comments

[hes_deadjim]

Spock didn't say much. He was always a man of few words if it could be helped, but his thoughts were so well well ordered and logical that there was something calming about it. Any extra words were unnecessary. The tranquility that followed wasn't all Spock's. A sense of peace settled over McCoy. He slumped. He understood too. It was going to be all right.

Anyway if it wasn't, he'd be in no position to notice the difference anyway. It was a load off his shoulders.

All that floated up to Spock was a wordless sense of relief and gratitude.

McCoy opened his eyes and found himself lying face up on the floor. He stared mutely up at the ceiling. Well now, he seemed to be alive still, so Spock hadn't killed him. Not brain dead. His head felt sore. So did his neck. The migraine was mercifully gone, replaced by a low, more manageable throb that was fading with each passing second. The burn that had been going through his brain was gone.

He remembered everything that had happened in that sickbay. Now he found himself almost wishing he hadn't.

"Well," McCoy began weakly then fell silent. Once again it struck him that he really was out of his element. At heart, he was just an old doctor from the South. He appreciated solid earth under his feet, simple food and good company. He wasn't meant to go running through transporters, time traveling, going through other universes or watching his own mind nearly collapse on itself. He felt tired and a little foolish. What did a man say after reliving one of the worst experiences in his life?

He should probably say something. McCoy's eyes searched then found Spock. "Vulcan interrogation, huh?"

[dual_worlds]

Spock remained sitting on his knees, his posture upright and straight as he assessed the doctor's condition. He believed his efforts to repair the damage were successful, and so he had severed the link once he'd finished. Naturally, however, he couldn't be certain of the result unless he observed McCoy's behavior afterward on a first-hand basis. At the very least, the CMO was no longer acting irrational or paranoid. Tired, and perhaps unsettled by what he'd learned during their meld, yes, but he no longer wore the wild, wide-eyed expression of a cornered animal.

Upon hearing his comment, the Vulcan's dark eyes shifted to meet McCoy's gaze. "Like any tool, a mind meld can be used for many purposes," he quietly explained. "Neither good nor bad, it simply is." He glanced away for a moment, his expression stoic. "That another version of myself used his ability in such a way, however, is...regrettable."

He had initiated a mind meld with an unwilling participant before, unfortunately -- but the circumstances were far different, and Spock only retrieved the information he'd needed to save Earth from destruction.

"How are you now?" Spock asked, deciding it would be better to focus on the matter at hand. Once he confirmed the doctor's physical condition, then they could move onto other topics as they saw fit.

[hes_deadjim]

It still felt strange looking at Spock, but the residual uneasiness was fading. The other Spock had a calculated edge, a cruelty under the surface, about him that this one didn't have, and frankly, this Spock just had a virtual free pass at his brain, and could have done anything or searched for anything. As far as McCoy knew, Spock hadn't. Even after all the mouthing off too. He really called the man a half-breed, didn't he? McCoy's mouth tugged into a grimace.

McCoy's eyes went back to the ceiling. Regrettable. Regrettable was not being able to save a limb or fully heal a bad break in a bone. He wouldn't call what happened to him just "regrettable", but that was Vulcan understatement for you. "I'm sure he would have said it was only the most logical course of action." Realizing he'd just implied this Spock could ever be in the same boat, McCoy muttered a sheepish "Sorry."

What a loaded question. McCoy was feeling exhausted, embarrassed he ever thought the other Spock had any honor in him, stunned by what happened, sore like he had whiplash; he could go on and on. He could still feel the memory of Joana's hand slipping away, just like he had the first time. He searched around and found it was still gone. So where some of his other memories. Spock couldn't restore something that had been clean burnt out, but he had done what he could. McCoy didn't think he could complain. The alternative, completely losing his mind, was much worse.

None of which were what Spock as asking. He'd be interested in the more literal aspect, the physical portion. What McCoy did emotionally wasn't something he'd be interested in. "Like I've got the mother of all hangovers. Help me up, will you?"

[dual_worlds]

As far as Spock was concerned, there wasn't any need to apologize. The Vulcan understood that he still retained his individual identity, regardless of what any counterpart of his did. Perhaps, in his own way, the bearded Spock believed his actions were the most logical. That did not, of course, mean Spock condoned what he did.

Even so, McCoy appeared to be in acceptable physical condition, despite some of his current symptoms. Under normal circumstances, such uncomfortable sensations were only momentary, but Spock did not know whether that remained the same within the institute's walls.

When McCoy requested his help, however, Spock brought himself to a stand. Unexpectedly, the sudden movement brought a wave of dizziness, and he actually wobbled as his body instinctively fought to keep balance. After a moment, his senses settled, and he reached out to grasp McCoy's arm as though it hadn't happened. In fact, he took care to angle himself in a way that the doctor could easily grasp onto Spock's own arm in turn for further support.

[hes_deadjim]

McCoy might be a lot of things right now, but he wasn't blind. He caught the wobble, the lightheaded sensation Spock must have just experienced. And Spock was the hardest out of the entire crew, and if he wasn't, he was the most stubborn when it came to acting like nothing got to him. If it was enough to slip out past his control, or take him by surprise, it was bad news.

He got to his feet, and quickly found his bearings just in case Spock had another wave of weakness. His legs felt stronger, or maybe it was his balance and coordination that had been out the window before. McCoy made sure he was ready to walk, holding onto Spock's arm whenever it felt shaky. He guided them to one of the beds, bracing himself to support Spock if the tables turned.

McCoy sat down the moment he could, hoping Spock would get the hint and sit down too. The doctor held his head for a moment. Universe's worst hangover was right, but unlike the migraines before, it wasn't growing in strength. He could feel it slowly, slowly tapering off. After a moment, McCoy looked up at Spock, studying his face, his eyes. What had the man done to himself in order help?

"Are you okay?" McCoy tentatively asked.

[dual_worlds]

Fortunately, their efforts to support one another as they moved proved adequate, and they reached a sturdy place to sit without any further incident. His body felt heavy as he sank onto the place beside McCoy, though the only outward indication he gave was a brief close of his eyes.

The question was not unexpected. Although Spock generally did not wish for others to concern themselves about his health, he took that as another sign that McCoy had returned to his senses after all. Provided their captors did not tamper with their efforts, Spock saw no reason that he wouldn't be fully recovered by tomorrow. With that finished, they could focus on making contact with Jim and Nyota.

"Yes, I am," he quietly answered. His voice didn't come out as strong as he would have preferred, and for a moment spots swam before his eyes. Signs of fatigue and overexertion, no doubt. Simple rest would likely set those right, which meant there was little reason to focus on that now. "My stamina is admittedly not what it was before our capture, but there is no cause for alarm, Doctor."

[hes_deadjim]

Spock actually sat down next to him. That was either a good sign he'd come to his senses about acting like he wasn't having a problem or a bad sign, that he really was that badly off. It was something the other Spock would never have done. A sign of weakness in their universe. McCoy thought it was common sense. When Spock closed his eyes as if marshaling himself against the dizziness, McCoy's concern rose.

"Are you just sayin' that to get out of a physical?" McCoy asked. He was only half joking. Spock had overexerted himself, possible more than was safe for a human if it got to him on this level, to help him. It was his fault Spock was like this. If Spock became seriously ill because of him, or worse, maybe he should have left McCoy to it. He couldn't ask anyone to hurt or kill themselves through work for him.

[dual_worlds]

"I am saying that because it is the truth," Spock answered as easily as completing a simple mathematical equation. "Since I first awoke here, my strength has been reduced to a third of what it once was. It is only logical that I would experience some degree of fatigue after guiding us through a mind meld of that intensity."

True, he hadn't suffered any ill effects after his meld with Jim. However, the captain had been in a stable frame of mind, and Spock hadn't had to correct any damage, either.

"I do not expect it to continue beyond tonight," Spock added. With his balance stabilized, the Vulcan was able to fully straighten his posture now. "Given your apparent recovery, the benefits clearly outweigh any temporary discomfort."