Night 49: Group Therapy Room 4

[simplemechanics]

[From here.]"Where-" Reeve began, but his words caught in his throat as he stepped into the hall. Or rather, what was not the hall. He cast his flashlight beam into the corners of the room, and found the space tight, constricted and limited. His thoughts became a jumble as he rearranged his expectations. This was the wrong place. In the dark, it

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[hes_deadjim]

And clearly the prospect didn't bother him. That was even if this just lasted the night and didn't extend longer.

"I never pegged you for an optimist, Spock. And what if it's longer than just this night?" McCoy pointed out. Dealing with it for several hours would be an inconvience at most, somewhat useful they were seeing new ground, but they didn't have a frame of reference for it or how to get to any of them. Dealing with it for days on end would be something else, especially when they certainly weren't prepared for it: no extra food, no water, nothing.

Spock hadn't risen to the bait like he usually would have, and McCoy didn't think it was due to a difference in where he'd come from. If there was one thing a Vulcan couldn't resist, it was both an instinctive need to completely miss sarcasm and to have the last word. If he knew his Spocks well, and he thought he did, he would have argued him over why it was illogical in the first place to expect a First Officer to assume the role of a counselor in the first place, especially when he had no actual qualifications for the job. Spock instead had been silent, deep in thought. He was as unreadable as any of the walls here: he'd play an incredible game of poker if Vulcans actually bluffed.

Spock also wasn't going to share it until he felt ready, and no amount of poking and prodding at him was going to make him budge. McCoy watched him expectantly out of the corner of his eye anyway, but he remained silent on the matter.

"Unless you're interested in some therapy-," he said. "-I don't think we'll find anything here."

[dual_worlds]

"Thus far, the institute has always reverted back to its typical facade in the morning, Doctor," Spock reminded him. There were some minor exceptions, of course, such as the period in which the I.R.I.S. system announced the day's events, but the nurses continued with their daily activities as though they were unaware of the difference. For the most part, one of the few constants that surrounded their captivity were the mundane activities the staff forced the patients to engage in. While he certainly couldn't discount the possibility that their situation could stretch for a longer period of time, the fact remained that there simply wasn't a precedent for it.

In short, he was neither an optimist nor a pessimist. Spock simply examined the information he knew and made his judgments accordingly. Clearly, McCoy would do well to learn the difference and apply it to his own way of thinking.

"We may form a plan regarding what to do for the long term if we discover we have not reached our quarters by sunrise," he added. They couldn't decide it wasn't a threat, true, but to dwell on such issues when they had more pressing ones at hand was a waste of precious time.

After giving the room a final sweep with his light, Spock turned toward the door. Still, McCoy's comment did not go unheard. "I would rather we direct our attention to something of use," he told him before leading the way through the door once more.

((To here.))