Ghosts in Attics III, Chapter 1
TITLE: Ghosts in Attics III, Chapter 1
FANDOM: Star Trek TOS
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Spock/McCoy, Kirk, Scotty
TABLE: # 8 - Miscellaneous B
PROMPT: 03. Answers
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: 5190
WARNINGS: Mentions of violence, torture and rape.
SUMMARY: Taking McCoy back from the mirror universe was the first step. Kirk, Spock and the others find out that it was also the easiest step.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I'm writing for fun, not for profit.
NOTE: Unbetaed. If you find mistakes (which I’m sure you will), feel free to point them out to me.
After all the time they had not known what had happened to McCoy, it was the waiting that killed him now. Jim Kirk was wandering up and down the transporter room, unable to contain his impatience and his worry. With every second Spock was gone, Kirk’s worry grew. He wanted nothing more than to get on the platform, beam to the other universe and see what was going on. For all they knew, Spock could have run into security guards the moment he materialised and been shot. He could have been captured, he could be in all kinds of trouble.
If so, they would never know. If their counterparts knew they had found a way to come to them, everyone else going over there would be caught the moment they arrived. Kirk could not risk any other of his crew. This was the only chance they got.
Or so he’d agreed with Spock. None-the-less, if the Vulcan did not return within the next two hours, Kirk would go over himself. He would not sacrifice a friend without trying to save him. Even if it ended with them both getting killed, it was better than never knowing what had become of Spock. Or of Bones.
Beside the worry for Spock, McCoy’s fate was the other thing eating at Kirk. For days he had been able to think of little else. Damned to passive waiting, completely obvious to what was going on a universe away, they could only hope that if - when! - Spock returned, he would not be alone.
And even if Bones was still alive, unlikely as it was, they didn’t know what state he was be in. Perhaps they would get him back only so he could die among friends.
Kirk felt so useless standing here, doomed to inactivity, and one look into the faces of the others was enough to know he was not the only one feeling this way. Chapel looked afraid, nervous and tense, but also composed. No matter what the transporter beam would deliver to them, she would be able to react accordingly.
M’Benga looked grim and worried. Like everyone else he was unable to relax despite the long, tiring wait wearing them down. Scotty looked exactly like Kirk was feeling, and his counterpart…
Scotty’s counterpart looked angry, nervous, yet resigned to his fate. Kirk did not expect him to attempt another escape. The armed security guards would make sure he did not get far.
No one spoke. Hours seemed to go by and Kirk began to plan his own journey into enemy territory in his mind. If Spock was not back in another hour…
“Signal coming in!” Scotty called from the console. From one moment to the next everyone’s attention was on the transporter platform. The lights of the transporter effect began to dance before their eyes and took the form of a tall man, holding someone limp and still in his arms.
Kirk never noticed that he stopped breathing.
Then the lights disappeared, leaving Spock standing on the platform, cradling McCoy in his arms and pointing his phaser at Scotty behind the console.
Within a second, the Vulcan took in the situation, realised that he was where he had wanted to go and dropped the weapon. Kirk hardly noticed it. His eyes were on the motionless body in Spock’s arms.
The moment they had fully materialised, Spock hurried down the platform to place McCoy on the gurney they had waiting for him just in case. M’Benga and Chapel were over him in a second, moving him out of the room and to sickbay. Kirk got only a brief glace at the friend he had thought lost for so long. McCoy was wrapped in a blanket, so most of his body was hidden from view, but Kirk saw his face, covered in bruises but otherwise devoid of colour. His eyes were closed, the lips slightly parted, dry and split, and his cheeks sunken in so much Kirk hardly recognized him. One moment later he was gone and the doors of the transporter room closed.
“Captain,” Spock said. Kirk kept staring at the closed door, torn between running after the medics and not wanting to hear what they had to say. Bones had looked so, so terrible. Kirk didn’t even know if he was alive.
“Jim,” Spock said. After another second, Kirk turned around and faced him.
“Get rid of that beard,” he heard himself say. The Vulcan nodded and pulled the offensive thing off his face, looking like Spock again.
“It is not time to send back Mr. Scott yet,” the Vulcan said, nodding towards the security men that were leading the imposter up to the platform. “My counterpart was in the transporter room but seconds ago. He might still be there.”
When the other Scott heard this, he went pale.
“You can’t send me back there! Spock will kill me! Let me stay here,” he pleaded. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? You don’t need to send me back.”
“Got what we wanted?” Kirk’s voice was quiet, low, but gradually got louder. “Did we? I never wanted my friend to get hurt like that in your bloody world! He might be dead, just because you wanted to stay here!” At the end he was nearly yelling.
“He is not dead,” Spock said. “But his state is critical.”
“Look, I never wanted that to happen to him either,” Scott said. “I didn’t think…”
“You didn’t think he’d be alive after so long? Is that what you wished for him, a mercifully quick death?” Kirk had to control himself to keep from punching the man in the face, or strangling him. “He went through hell because of you, and if you don’t beam over there right this moment, you don’t need your Spock to kill you. I’ll do it myself.”
Scott visibly flinched in the face of his fury. Perhaps he had thought the inhabitants of this universe were not capable of these feelings. He would have run away screaming had he known how close Kirk was to making true of his thread. Instead he said, “At least give me a few minutes. Give me a chance!”
Taking a deep breath while trying to control his anger, Kirk would have very much liked to send him over and imagine that Spock taking him apart. “You get one minute.”
“Captain!” Scotty protested. “Send him over now! That guy-”
“We gave him our word,” Kirk interrupted him. “And we’ll keep it.” Even if it was hard. Now he had seen Bones and gotten a vague impression of what he had to go through, he wanted nothing more than to punish someone for it. The other Spock would be the obvious goal for his fury, but Scott was the only one who was here, and he would do just fine if only Kirk would let himself go.
But he didn’t. He was better than that. Still, as the former chief engineer of the ISS Enterprise vanished before their eyes, he couldn’t help but hope he would be caught and subjected to whatever fate their alternative selves thought he deserved.
“Can we make sure he’s not coming back here? Or anyone, for that matter?”
“Working on it,” Scotty said. They had considered this problem before but had given priority to getting McCoy back first. Now they had accomplished that goal, they needed to make sure no one from that universe came here ever again. If the method of crossing became widely known over there, they couldn’t rule out an invasion.
“With Spock’s help, we should be able to do it in no time,” the engineer added. He and Spock had looked into the problem before and Kirk supposed they had some ideas.
“Spock?” he asked.
“I shall assist Commander Scott in a moment,” the Vulcan said stiffly. Kirk could imagine there were other things he would like to do now. If he felt even a little bit like his captain, he had to wilfully keep himself from running to sickbay.
“It can wait another minute. You’re going to tell me what happened over there first.” Kirk ordered for at least two security guards to be stationed in the transporter room at any time until there was no risk any longer of anyone invading their ship this way. He then hurried towards sickbay with Spock in tow, while the Vulcan gave him a brief report on his meeting with his other self.
“He let you go?” Kirk asked, surprised. “Why?”
“I cannot tell. It was rather unexpected.”
“Speculate, Spock. He’s basically you. You have to have some idea.”
For a moment, Spock was silent. Then he said, “He is not me.”
Okay. That had been a bad thing to say. “Sorry, Spock. But if you happen to know anything, have any idea, it would help. We don’t know what he’s up to. I’d hate to think he’s using McCoy for any kind of trap.”
“I do not believe so. There was no time to plan anything in that direction. And he had no chance of knowing we would be coming for the doctor.”
“I hope you’re right.”
They reached sickbay. Despite having finished his quick report, Spock entered along with the captain. A nurse whose name Kirk did not know greeted them.
Doctor McCoy was in surgery, she told them, visibly shaken. Kirk remembered that apart from M’Benga and Chapel, no one had even known about Scotty’s doppelganger, let along about McCoy’s fate. Seeing her lost boss again so suddenly and in such a state probably was a bit of a shock for the poor nurse.
No one was allowed to enter. While Spock bid them goodbye to go and help Scotty with their most recent urgent problem, Kirk decided to wait.
He waited for a long time.
-
By the time Spock returned to sickbay, McCoy had been put in a small single room, away from prying eyes. He was on life support and under constant observation. His state was still critical, but M’Benga gave him remotely good chances of survival.
It was more than Spock had given him when he found him in his counterpart’s quarters, chained on the floor and slowly slipping out of this life in a haze of fever and pain. He never even knew Spock, the right Spock was there. If he died now, he would never know that they had come for him.
Kirk was sitting at McCoy’s bedside when Spock entered. He looked up briefly wordlessly acknowledging his presence, then turned back to the man on the bed. McCoy had been dressed in a soft, short sleeved shirt. Spock was grateful for the blanket and every inch of cloth that covered him. His friend’s wrists were wrapped in bandages, what little of his skin was visible did not look well, even now the medics had done their work.
“M’Benga said he won’t wake up anytime soon,” Kirk said quietly. “He’s too weak to survive without artificial help. Apparently just about every bone in his body has been broken at least once. He’s also missing his spleen and one kidney.”
“As well was part of his pancreas,” Spock added. “I read the report. My counterpart must have removed them, probably due to the severe injuries his abuse of McCoy caused.”
“God.” Kirk ran his hand over his face. “I knew it was going to be bad, but I had no idea… Seeing him like this, I can’t imagine what he must have been through.” His fingers lightly touched McCoy’s hand but did not pick it up to hold it. “We left him alone for far too long.”
“Yes, we did.” Spock could only agree. He had needed a long time to forgive Kirk for abandoning the search for McCoy to save Spock’s life when he went into ponn far. Logically, it had been the right decision, and even from an emotional point of view, he understood why his friend had to do it. Yet he had never been able to shake off the feeling it was his fault the doctor had remained lost.
They would not have found him, even if they had continued to look in the region of space where he had disappeared. This new knowledge did not make Spock feel better in the face of the related knowledge that the way of finding McCoy had been with them all the time and they had been too blind to see it.
Spock had gone into ponn far at the worst possible time, and at the same time the fever had come over the other Spock. What he had feared was now painful certainty. Thinking about what his friend must have suffered at the Vulcan’s hands challenged Spock’s control over himself. It was made worse by the knowledge that his alternative self had not stopped taking McCoy in a sexual way when the blood fever had cooled down. While only including the most basic information about McCoy’s injuries and general condition, and no speculation as to the cause of those injuries, the report M’Benga had recorded revealed enough for Spock to understand this without doubt.
But even without the medical report, Spock would have known. He had known the moment he found McCoy and saw the state he was in. It sickened him to think that someone who could, in another life, have been him, that anyone was capable of this.
And he did not understand the reason. There had to be a reason for a Vulcan, even one as twisted and corrupted as that Spock, to torture another being in this way, but the science officer of the USS Enterprise could not see it. Once the plak tow was over, the need to take and possess his mate should have left that man, and another reason for this Spock could not think of, except for empty cruelty.
Worse than the thought of the other him hurting McCoy for some perverted reason was the thought of the other him hurting McCoy simply to watch him suffer.
It was a concept he did not understand. Neither should his counterpart - unless all their theories on that mirror universe were wrong and except for genetics and some parts of their personal history they were all completely different persons. It would make the facts easier for Spock to accept, but having met his other self face to face, despite the hatred and disgust the man had invoked in him, and his complete lack of understanding for his person, Spock had not been able to overlook the similarities as well. And not only those in their ways of moving and speaking.
Was that person somewhere inside him as unused potential? Was he somewhere inside that other one? Spock could not answer these questions, yet he could not stop contemplating them as he looked at the damage the Spock of another world had done to one of his dearest friends.
He could not forget the feeling of carrying McCoy in his arms; neither the feeling of the far, far too thin body seemingly weightless in his arms, nor the feeling inside of him when he became fully aware how very fragile this man he so much cared about had become.
Touching his bare skin had given Spock an impression, however distant, of the painful chaos that was the human’s dreams. He had sensed fear, despair, sadness, self-hate, and feelings he could not name. The contact had not been strong - any more would have overwhelmed Spock and endangered his mission. In addition to this, something had blocked him off. He had not made an attempt to go deeper, but he had sensed the barrier that would have stopped him had he tried.
He had expected this. Ponn far required a mentally bonded mate. Since the other had kept McCoy alive, it was only natural that their bond still existed. Even as he could sense McCoy’s sleeping, fading mind in the distance, Spock could not reach it. McCoy’s bondmate would no allow it.
Bondmate. The use of this word appeared wrong in this context, almost sacrilegious, although it applied to all partners bonded through ponn far on Vulcan, even if the bond was parasitic and one sided like this one. Once upon a time, before Surak, bonds like this had been common.
The word Spock found more appropriate to describe McCoy’s status with that Vulcan, though his people never used it, was slave.
Until McCoy woke up, he could only speculate on what his counterpart might have done to the doctor’s mind. He already dreaded the answer.
“I know that universe is violent and barbaric,” Kirk said, his voice full of emotions. “But I didn’t think it was this bad. Do you know if that other Scott was right? Did your counterpart really keep McCoy hidden from everyone else?”
“From what I saw over there, I would say Mr. Scott was correct in his assumption,” Spock said. Kirk briefly closed his eyes.
“That means it was their Spock who did all this to him.”
“So it would seem.” Spock kept his voice carefully neutral. Kirk seemed to understand his aversion to discuss this, as he fell silent. Eventually, though, he voiced another thought of his, proving once more that he had been thinking about very similar things as Spock and come to similar conclusions.
“It’s so pointless, Spock. I don’t get why he did this even when he didn’t need him anymore. On the other hand…” He laughed softly, bitterly. “I don’t think he would have just send Bones back to us once he was done with him. If he had only used Bones as long as he had to in order to survive, he would have killed him long ago. From that perspective, I suppose we have to be grateful.” He did not sound convinced. Neither was Spock. And from the vague impressions he had received from McCoy, he knew the doctor would not agree. Spock had sensed his single-minded wish for his life to end, and he feared that in the end it might have been more merciful had McCoy been granted a quick death after a few days of torture instead of having to live through all that came - even if it had meant they would never have seen him again.
“His survival might not be worth the pain he had to endure for it.” He had never meant to say it aloud, yet he heard the words, spoken in his voice. To Spock, it was proof of how much his control over himself had suffered from recent events.
Kirk looked up sharply. “No, Spock,” he said. “He’ll be fine, he’ll get over this eventually. No matter how long it takes. He’s alive. That’s a good point to start from.” The captain never gave up. It was once of the things Spock respected most about him. Yet Kirk was not a telepath. He could take McCoy’s hand without feeling his despair.
McCoy did not think he even deserved to live. Spock could only wonder what his counterpart had done to his friend to make him hate himself so much.
He did not speak this time. Kirk did not need to know this; Spock would not have been able to make him understand anyway.
And perhaps the captain was right. McCoy was alive, and that was much more than Spock had dared to hope for. It would be illogical to give up on him now.
If he even survived the next days. After all, his condition was still critical, and he was not fighting for his life. He might yet die.
-
One day later, Spock knew that McCoy would not die. He was the only one who knew this. Physically, his friend’s state had not improved at all.
All of sickbay was quiet, as if the doctors and nurses feared they could disturb him if they spoke too loudly - or as if they were already in mourning. The entire ship had fallen quiet, similar to the time after the doctor had disappeared and nearly everyone believed him dead. It had become known that he had come back, and while no one but a few officers and members of the medical department knew what had happened to him, word had spread quickly that he was in the intensive care unit of sickbay and that he might not survive.
Rumours inevitably spread. The entire crew speculated on where McCoy had been and what was wrong with him, but no one even came close to the truth.
When Spock entered sickbay that day, he found Doctor M’Benga in a heated discussion with Doctor Burke, the woman that had been assigned to the Enterprise in order to replace McCoy. He greeted both of them with a brief nod and went on to McCoy’s room without paying attention to the content of their discussion. In reply to his acknowledging of her presence, Burke threw him a look that could almost be interpreted as hostile. Spock noted it without much interest.
McCoy was alone for once but for the machines keeping him alive. Spock took the chair beside the bed, folded his hands in his lap, and for a while did nothing but study the pale, scarred face of the man before him.
The beard inhibitor had prevented any facial hair from growing. McCoy’s usually short and well cut scalp hair however had become notably longer and strands of it were hanging in his forehead, almost long enough to cover his eyes. After a few minutes, Spock reached out to brush them away. Then he rested the tips of his fingers against McCoy’s cheek and temple and ever so carefully attempted to enter his mind.
He had never intended to initiate a proper meld. All he intended to do was to observe McCoy’s mental state, to make sure he had not slipped away any further overnight.
Since returning from the other universe, he had not touched his friend again. Now he did so, he found that he was still being blocked off. This was surprising, and more than a little worrying.
It meant that even now they were in separate universes, the other Spock still had a hold on McCoy’s mind. He could still influence the doctor, and Spock did not wish to imagine what he might do to him.
He should not have been surprised by this, though, but rather should have expected it. The other Spock’s influence on McCoy had started long before he had taken the human over to his world. It would not have been likely for the connection to end when McCoy was removed from that world.
Spock’s logic was challenged. This he noted with unease but without surprise.
Perhaps this was a potential reason for that Spock’s agreement to let them go: had he remained there, McCoy would have died and become useless. Here, he might be healed and through him the Vulcan might be bale to spy on their world.
The connection between McCoy and the other Spock was unacceptable, but right now it was useful. Without it, Spock feared, McCoy’s mind would have slipped away in the brief time since he had been taken home to them, leaving his body an empty shell kept alive by machines. But that was something Spock’s counterpart would, out of a motivation ultimately known only to him, not allow.
For this reason, Spock decided not to make an attempt to destroy the bond linking his friend to his torturer just yet. It would most likely result in the destruction of McCoy’s already damaged mind.
Apart from that, Spock was not entirely certain he would be able to break the bond. It was long established and very strong. The only hope he had was based on the fact that the two bondmates were not part of the same reality.
Once McCoy was stable, Spock would do all he could. He could not push too hard while the doctor was so fragile, but as soon as it was safe to do so, Spock would remove anything left by his counterpart from McCoy’s mind. He would not leave his friend to the mercy of that monster.
Should he be unable to accomplish his goal, Spock would take his friend to Vulcan where trained healers would be able to do what he could not. Either way, he was determined to free McCoy from his counterpart completely.
Removing his fingers from McCoy’s face, he took his hand instead, touching only a very little skin where the hand was not wrapped in bandages. These wounds had been left untreated for too long to be easily healed, lest without leaving scars. Perhaps McCoy would forever bear reminders of the other world.
Skimming lightly over the human’s dormant mind - not pushing, merely observing - Spock wondered if the other him was sensing it, sensing his presence from where he was, far away.
-
“A simple adjustment of the general transporter settings will do,” Scott said before Kirk could even ask. “It will put our transporters out of range of theirs, and since the exchange between universes can only go over identical transporters, this should keep any unwanted visitors away quite effectively.”
“Then do it,” Kirk ordered.
Scott smiled grimly. “Already did, Sir. Didn’t want to give that other guy any more time to sneak back in here.”
“All the better.” Kirk appreciated some initiative in his men, as long as they didn’t get in his way. And even with the security guards keeping an eye on the transporter, Scotty probably didn’t feel well at the thought that at any moment his other self could come back here.
But there was one very big problem left Kirk had to deal with, and he knew he had to do this carefully.
“Give the data to Uhura so she can transmit it to High Command. They need to spread the word and make sure the same adjustment is made everywhere in the Federation. There’s no point only protecting this ship. If your counterpart is caught or Spock gives the secret to anyone else, I wouldn’t put it beyond that Empire to invade our universe for strategic reasons.”
“Aye.” Scotty nodded. “I didn’t know you even had informed the Federation that a passage was possible.”
“I haven’t yet. But I can’t delay this any longer.”
Scotty seemed worried. “But Captain, if you tell them what happened…”
“I know,” Kirk cut him off. “If they learn about what happened to McCoy, they’ll want to learn anything they can get out of him about that universe. I don’t want to put him through that just yet.” Or ever, for that matter.
Scotty nodded wordlessly. They both remembered the long and uncomfortable questioning the two of them, McCoy and Uhura had been subjected to after their first, brief stay on the ISS Enterprise.
“I won’t tell them about McCoy’s return just yet,” Kirk assured the engineer. “I’ll make something up.”
This was merely postponing the problem, not solving it. Sooner or later they had to reveal what really happened. But Kirk wanted to buy his friend as much time as possible.
Doctor Burke had already approached him with this, demanding to know why he had forbidden her and her colleagues to send the report on McCoy to the brass. Neither of the other doctors and nurses had questioned this order, but Burke was new to the Enterprise. She hadn’t been there two years ago, she didn’t know McCoy. She couldn’t understand, and Kirk, while knowing that she believed they were doing even more harm to McCoy by letting everyone believe he was dead, resented her for that. His temper was short these days.
“One more thing,” Scotty called after Kirk when he turned to go. He seemed somewhat embarrassed. “I think I have been unfair to you after Len disappeared. I should’ve…”
Again, Kirk didn’t let him finish. “Forget it,” he said. “I understand why you were angry. I was angry myself. No harm done, so let’s just forget about it.”
Apparently, that was enough for Scotty. He nodded and turned back to doing whatever it was he was working on.
Kirk had to deal with the story he was going to tell to his superiors now, before they would send the necessary data. It was urgent, but not so urgent that he had no time for a brief visit to sickbay.
Burke was nowhere to be seen; Kirk was glad, not interested in another confrontation. M’Benga was busy tending to a patient. He nodded at Kirk, acknowledging his presence. Kirk nodded back.
Soft singing greeted him when the door to McCoy’s room slid open. It stopped when the captain entered. Uhura smiled weakly up to him from her chair beside McCoy’s bed.
“I know it’s silly,” she admitted. “But I thought perhaps he can hear me anyway.”
Kirk nodded. He’d been talking to his friend himself often in the last three days, wanting to believe he could somehow reach the unconscious man. At the same time, a part of him dreaded the moment McCoy woke up, because only then would they see how much damage the other Spock had truly done to him.
Despite their severity, Kirk already knew that the physical injuries were not the biggest problem.
“I need you to prepare a data transfer to Starfleet High Command,” he told her. “Commander Scott should already have sent you the required data. I will give you the report to go with it in a few minutes.”
The communication officer nodded and left, but not without letting her gaze linger sadly on McCoy’s still from for a moment.
When she was gone, Kirk took the seat she had just vacated, still warm from the heat of her body. After a moment he reached out and gently brushed the too long hair out of his friend’s forehead.
“Bones,” he whispered. Just that. He didn’t have anything to say to his friend.
What he did have was a report to record. Kirk stayed for a minute or two, unwilling to leave McCoy alone with the machines and the noise of the life support unit; eventually he left anyway, silently vowing to come back as soon as he could.
Spock had told him that somehow, his mirror self was still connected to McCoy’s mind. Kirk wondered if his friend knew this in his deeps unconsciousness, and hoped he didn’t. How could Bones ever understand that he was safe now if his tormentor didn’t let him go?
It would be better if someone he trusted was with him when he woke up, to make him understand he was home. Spock couldn’t do it - as much as he cared for McCoy, the doctor might not react well to the face of the man who had hurt him so badly. This left Kirk as his closest friend, and the most obvious choice.
The captain knew this would probably mean he would spend a lot of time in this room during the next several days. But at the moment, there was nowhere else he would rather be.
December 16, 2009
Chapter 2
FANDOM: Star Trek TOS
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Spock/McCoy, Kirk, Scotty
TABLE: # 8 - Miscellaneous B
PROMPT: 03. Answers
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: 5190
WARNINGS: Mentions of violence, torture and rape.
SUMMARY: Taking McCoy back from the mirror universe was the first step. Kirk, Spock and the others find out that it was also the easiest step.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I'm writing for fun, not for profit.
NOTE: Unbetaed. If you find mistakes (which I’m sure you will), feel free to point them out to me.
After all the time they had not known what had happened to McCoy, it was the waiting that killed him now. Jim Kirk was wandering up and down the transporter room, unable to contain his impatience and his worry. With every second Spock was gone, Kirk’s worry grew. He wanted nothing more than to get on the platform, beam to the other universe and see what was going on. For all they knew, Spock could have run into security guards the moment he materialised and been shot. He could have been captured, he could be in all kinds of trouble.
If so, they would never know. If their counterparts knew they had found a way to come to them, everyone else going over there would be caught the moment they arrived. Kirk could not risk any other of his crew. This was the only chance they got.
Or so he’d agreed with Spock. None-the-less, if the Vulcan did not return within the next two hours, Kirk would go over himself. He would not sacrifice a friend without trying to save him. Even if it ended with them both getting killed, it was better than never knowing what had become of Spock. Or of Bones.
Beside the worry for Spock, McCoy’s fate was the other thing eating at Kirk. For days he had been able to think of little else. Damned to passive waiting, completely obvious to what was going on a universe away, they could only hope that if - when! - Spock returned, he would not be alone.
And even if Bones was still alive, unlikely as it was, they didn’t know what state he was be in. Perhaps they would get him back only so he could die among friends.
Kirk felt so useless standing here, doomed to inactivity, and one look into the faces of the others was enough to know he was not the only one feeling this way. Chapel looked afraid, nervous and tense, but also composed. No matter what the transporter beam would deliver to them, she would be able to react accordingly.
M’Benga looked grim and worried. Like everyone else he was unable to relax despite the long, tiring wait wearing them down. Scotty looked exactly like Kirk was feeling, and his counterpart…
Scotty’s counterpart looked angry, nervous, yet resigned to his fate. Kirk did not expect him to attempt another escape. The armed security guards would make sure he did not get far.
No one spoke. Hours seemed to go by and Kirk began to plan his own journey into enemy territory in his mind. If Spock was not back in another hour…
“Signal coming in!” Scotty called from the console. From one moment to the next everyone’s attention was on the transporter platform. The lights of the transporter effect began to dance before their eyes and took the form of a tall man, holding someone limp and still in his arms.
Kirk never noticed that he stopped breathing.
Then the lights disappeared, leaving Spock standing on the platform, cradling McCoy in his arms and pointing his phaser at Scotty behind the console.
Within a second, the Vulcan took in the situation, realised that he was where he had wanted to go and dropped the weapon. Kirk hardly noticed it. His eyes were on the motionless body in Spock’s arms.
The moment they had fully materialised, Spock hurried down the platform to place McCoy on the gurney they had waiting for him just in case. M’Benga and Chapel were over him in a second, moving him out of the room and to sickbay. Kirk got only a brief glace at the friend he had thought lost for so long. McCoy was wrapped in a blanket, so most of his body was hidden from view, but Kirk saw his face, covered in bruises but otherwise devoid of colour. His eyes were closed, the lips slightly parted, dry and split, and his cheeks sunken in so much Kirk hardly recognized him. One moment later he was gone and the doors of the transporter room closed.
“Captain,” Spock said. Kirk kept staring at the closed door, torn between running after the medics and not wanting to hear what they had to say. Bones had looked so, so terrible. Kirk didn’t even know if he was alive.
“Jim,” Spock said. After another second, Kirk turned around and faced him.
“Get rid of that beard,” he heard himself say. The Vulcan nodded and pulled the offensive thing off his face, looking like Spock again.
“It is not time to send back Mr. Scott yet,” the Vulcan said, nodding towards the security men that were leading the imposter up to the platform. “My counterpart was in the transporter room but seconds ago. He might still be there.”
When the other Scott heard this, he went pale.
“You can’t send me back there! Spock will kill me! Let me stay here,” he pleaded. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? You don’t need to send me back.”
“Got what we wanted?” Kirk’s voice was quiet, low, but gradually got louder. “Did we? I never wanted my friend to get hurt like that in your bloody world! He might be dead, just because you wanted to stay here!” At the end he was nearly yelling.
“He is not dead,” Spock said. “But his state is critical.”
“Look, I never wanted that to happen to him either,” Scott said. “I didn’t think…”
“You didn’t think he’d be alive after so long? Is that what you wished for him, a mercifully quick death?” Kirk had to control himself to keep from punching the man in the face, or strangling him. “He went through hell because of you, and if you don’t beam over there right this moment, you don’t need your Spock to kill you. I’ll do it myself.”
Scott visibly flinched in the face of his fury. Perhaps he had thought the inhabitants of this universe were not capable of these feelings. He would have run away screaming had he known how close Kirk was to making true of his thread. Instead he said, “At least give me a few minutes. Give me a chance!”
Taking a deep breath while trying to control his anger, Kirk would have very much liked to send him over and imagine that Spock taking him apart. “You get one minute.”
“Captain!” Scotty protested. “Send him over now! That guy-”
“We gave him our word,” Kirk interrupted him. “And we’ll keep it.” Even if it was hard. Now he had seen Bones and gotten a vague impression of what he had to go through, he wanted nothing more than to punish someone for it. The other Spock would be the obvious goal for his fury, but Scott was the only one who was here, and he would do just fine if only Kirk would let himself go.
But he didn’t. He was better than that. Still, as the former chief engineer of the ISS Enterprise vanished before their eyes, he couldn’t help but hope he would be caught and subjected to whatever fate their alternative selves thought he deserved.
“Can we make sure he’s not coming back here? Or anyone, for that matter?”
“Working on it,” Scotty said. They had considered this problem before but had given priority to getting McCoy back first. Now they had accomplished that goal, they needed to make sure no one from that universe came here ever again. If the method of crossing became widely known over there, they couldn’t rule out an invasion.
“With Spock’s help, we should be able to do it in no time,” the engineer added. He and Spock had looked into the problem before and Kirk supposed they had some ideas.
“Spock?” he asked.
“I shall assist Commander Scott in a moment,” the Vulcan said stiffly. Kirk could imagine there were other things he would like to do now. If he felt even a little bit like his captain, he had to wilfully keep himself from running to sickbay.
“It can wait another minute. You’re going to tell me what happened over there first.” Kirk ordered for at least two security guards to be stationed in the transporter room at any time until there was no risk any longer of anyone invading their ship this way. He then hurried towards sickbay with Spock in tow, while the Vulcan gave him a brief report on his meeting with his other self.
“He let you go?” Kirk asked, surprised. “Why?”
“I cannot tell. It was rather unexpected.”
“Speculate, Spock. He’s basically you. You have to have some idea.”
For a moment, Spock was silent. Then he said, “He is not me.”
Okay. That had been a bad thing to say. “Sorry, Spock. But if you happen to know anything, have any idea, it would help. We don’t know what he’s up to. I’d hate to think he’s using McCoy for any kind of trap.”
“I do not believe so. There was no time to plan anything in that direction. And he had no chance of knowing we would be coming for the doctor.”
“I hope you’re right.”
They reached sickbay. Despite having finished his quick report, Spock entered along with the captain. A nurse whose name Kirk did not know greeted them.
Doctor McCoy was in surgery, she told them, visibly shaken. Kirk remembered that apart from M’Benga and Chapel, no one had even known about Scotty’s doppelganger, let along about McCoy’s fate. Seeing her lost boss again so suddenly and in such a state probably was a bit of a shock for the poor nurse.
No one was allowed to enter. While Spock bid them goodbye to go and help Scotty with their most recent urgent problem, Kirk decided to wait.
He waited for a long time.
-
By the time Spock returned to sickbay, McCoy had been put in a small single room, away from prying eyes. He was on life support and under constant observation. His state was still critical, but M’Benga gave him remotely good chances of survival.
It was more than Spock had given him when he found him in his counterpart’s quarters, chained on the floor and slowly slipping out of this life in a haze of fever and pain. He never even knew Spock, the right Spock was there. If he died now, he would never know that they had come for him.
Kirk was sitting at McCoy’s bedside when Spock entered. He looked up briefly wordlessly acknowledging his presence, then turned back to the man on the bed. McCoy had been dressed in a soft, short sleeved shirt. Spock was grateful for the blanket and every inch of cloth that covered him. His friend’s wrists were wrapped in bandages, what little of his skin was visible did not look well, even now the medics had done their work.
“M’Benga said he won’t wake up anytime soon,” Kirk said quietly. “He’s too weak to survive without artificial help. Apparently just about every bone in his body has been broken at least once. He’s also missing his spleen and one kidney.”
“As well was part of his pancreas,” Spock added. “I read the report. My counterpart must have removed them, probably due to the severe injuries his abuse of McCoy caused.”
“God.” Kirk ran his hand over his face. “I knew it was going to be bad, but I had no idea… Seeing him like this, I can’t imagine what he must have been through.” His fingers lightly touched McCoy’s hand but did not pick it up to hold it. “We left him alone for far too long.”
“Yes, we did.” Spock could only agree. He had needed a long time to forgive Kirk for abandoning the search for McCoy to save Spock’s life when he went into ponn far. Logically, it had been the right decision, and even from an emotional point of view, he understood why his friend had to do it. Yet he had never been able to shake off the feeling it was his fault the doctor had remained lost.
They would not have found him, even if they had continued to look in the region of space where he had disappeared. This new knowledge did not make Spock feel better in the face of the related knowledge that the way of finding McCoy had been with them all the time and they had been too blind to see it.
Spock had gone into ponn far at the worst possible time, and at the same time the fever had come over the other Spock. What he had feared was now painful certainty. Thinking about what his friend must have suffered at the Vulcan’s hands challenged Spock’s control over himself. It was made worse by the knowledge that his alternative self had not stopped taking McCoy in a sexual way when the blood fever had cooled down. While only including the most basic information about McCoy’s injuries and general condition, and no speculation as to the cause of those injuries, the report M’Benga had recorded revealed enough for Spock to understand this without doubt.
But even without the medical report, Spock would have known. He had known the moment he found McCoy and saw the state he was in. It sickened him to think that someone who could, in another life, have been him, that anyone was capable of this.
And he did not understand the reason. There had to be a reason for a Vulcan, even one as twisted and corrupted as that Spock, to torture another being in this way, but the science officer of the USS Enterprise could not see it. Once the plak tow was over, the need to take and possess his mate should have left that man, and another reason for this Spock could not think of, except for empty cruelty.
Worse than the thought of the other him hurting McCoy for some perverted reason was the thought of the other him hurting McCoy simply to watch him suffer.
It was a concept he did not understand. Neither should his counterpart - unless all their theories on that mirror universe were wrong and except for genetics and some parts of their personal history they were all completely different persons. It would make the facts easier for Spock to accept, but having met his other self face to face, despite the hatred and disgust the man had invoked in him, and his complete lack of understanding for his person, Spock had not been able to overlook the similarities as well. And not only those in their ways of moving and speaking.
Was that person somewhere inside him as unused potential? Was he somewhere inside that other one? Spock could not answer these questions, yet he could not stop contemplating them as he looked at the damage the Spock of another world had done to one of his dearest friends.
He could not forget the feeling of carrying McCoy in his arms; neither the feeling of the far, far too thin body seemingly weightless in his arms, nor the feeling inside of him when he became fully aware how very fragile this man he so much cared about had become.
Touching his bare skin had given Spock an impression, however distant, of the painful chaos that was the human’s dreams. He had sensed fear, despair, sadness, self-hate, and feelings he could not name. The contact had not been strong - any more would have overwhelmed Spock and endangered his mission. In addition to this, something had blocked him off. He had not made an attempt to go deeper, but he had sensed the barrier that would have stopped him had he tried.
He had expected this. Ponn far required a mentally bonded mate. Since the other had kept McCoy alive, it was only natural that their bond still existed. Even as he could sense McCoy’s sleeping, fading mind in the distance, Spock could not reach it. McCoy’s bondmate would no allow it.
Bondmate. The use of this word appeared wrong in this context, almost sacrilegious, although it applied to all partners bonded through ponn far on Vulcan, even if the bond was parasitic and one sided like this one. Once upon a time, before Surak, bonds like this had been common.
The word Spock found more appropriate to describe McCoy’s status with that Vulcan, though his people never used it, was slave.
Until McCoy woke up, he could only speculate on what his counterpart might have done to the doctor’s mind. He already dreaded the answer.
“I know that universe is violent and barbaric,” Kirk said, his voice full of emotions. “But I didn’t think it was this bad. Do you know if that other Scott was right? Did your counterpart really keep McCoy hidden from everyone else?”
“From what I saw over there, I would say Mr. Scott was correct in his assumption,” Spock said. Kirk briefly closed his eyes.
“That means it was their Spock who did all this to him.”
“So it would seem.” Spock kept his voice carefully neutral. Kirk seemed to understand his aversion to discuss this, as he fell silent. Eventually, though, he voiced another thought of his, proving once more that he had been thinking about very similar things as Spock and come to similar conclusions.
“It’s so pointless, Spock. I don’t get why he did this even when he didn’t need him anymore. On the other hand…” He laughed softly, bitterly. “I don’t think he would have just send Bones back to us once he was done with him. If he had only used Bones as long as he had to in order to survive, he would have killed him long ago. From that perspective, I suppose we have to be grateful.” He did not sound convinced. Neither was Spock. And from the vague impressions he had received from McCoy, he knew the doctor would not agree. Spock had sensed his single-minded wish for his life to end, and he feared that in the end it might have been more merciful had McCoy been granted a quick death after a few days of torture instead of having to live through all that came - even if it had meant they would never have seen him again.
“His survival might not be worth the pain he had to endure for it.” He had never meant to say it aloud, yet he heard the words, spoken in his voice. To Spock, it was proof of how much his control over himself had suffered from recent events.
Kirk looked up sharply. “No, Spock,” he said. “He’ll be fine, he’ll get over this eventually. No matter how long it takes. He’s alive. That’s a good point to start from.” The captain never gave up. It was once of the things Spock respected most about him. Yet Kirk was not a telepath. He could take McCoy’s hand without feeling his despair.
McCoy did not think he even deserved to live. Spock could only wonder what his counterpart had done to his friend to make him hate himself so much.
He did not speak this time. Kirk did not need to know this; Spock would not have been able to make him understand anyway.
And perhaps the captain was right. McCoy was alive, and that was much more than Spock had dared to hope for. It would be illogical to give up on him now.
If he even survived the next days. After all, his condition was still critical, and he was not fighting for his life. He might yet die.
-
One day later, Spock knew that McCoy would not die. He was the only one who knew this. Physically, his friend’s state had not improved at all.
All of sickbay was quiet, as if the doctors and nurses feared they could disturb him if they spoke too loudly - or as if they were already in mourning. The entire ship had fallen quiet, similar to the time after the doctor had disappeared and nearly everyone believed him dead. It had become known that he had come back, and while no one but a few officers and members of the medical department knew what had happened to him, word had spread quickly that he was in the intensive care unit of sickbay and that he might not survive.
Rumours inevitably spread. The entire crew speculated on where McCoy had been and what was wrong with him, but no one even came close to the truth.
When Spock entered sickbay that day, he found Doctor M’Benga in a heated discussion with Doctor Burke, the woman that had been assigned to the Enterprise in order to replace McCoy. He greeted both of them with a brief nod and went on to McCoy’s room without paying attention to the content of their discussion. In reply to his acknowledging of her presence, Burke threw him a look that could almost be interpreted as hostile. Spock noted it without much interest.
McCoy was alone for once but for the machines keeping him alive. Spock took the chair beside the bed, folded his hands in his lap, and for a while did nothing but study the pale, scarred face of the man before him.
The beard inhibitor had prevented any facial hair from growing. McCoy’s usually short and well cut scalp hair however had become notably longer and strands of it were hanging in his forehead, almost long enough to cover his eyes. After a few minutes, Spock reached out to brush them away. Then he rested the tips of his fingers against McCoy’s cheek and temple and ever so carefully attempted to enter his mind.
He had never intended to initiate a proper meld. All he intended to do was to observe McCoy’s mental state, to make sure he had not slipped away any further overnight.
Since returning from the other universe, he had not touched his friend again. Now he did so, he found that he was still being blocked off. This was surprising, and more than a little worrying.
It meant that even now they were in separate universes, the other Spock still had a hold on McCoy’s mind. He could still influence the doctor, and Spock did not wish to imagine what he might do to him.
He should not have been surprised by this, though, but rather should have expected it. The other Spock’s influence on McCoy had started long before he had taken the human over to his world. It would not have been likely for the connection to end when McCoy was removed from that world.
Spock’s logic was challenged. This he noted with unease but without surprise.
Perhaps this was a potential reason for that Spock’s agreement to let them go: had he remained there, McCoy would have died and become useless. Here, he might be healed and through him the Vulcan might be bale to spy on their world.
The connection between McCoy and the other Spock was unacceptable, but right now it was useful. Without it, Spock feared, McCoy’s mind would have slipped away in the brief time since he had been taken home to them, leaving his body an empty shell kept alive by machines. But that was something Spock’s counterpart would, out of a motivation ultimately known only to him, not allow.
For this reason, Spock decided not to make an attempt to destroy the bond linking his friend to his torturer just yet. It would most likely result in the destruction of McCoy’s already damaged mind.
Apart from that, Spock was not entirely certain he would be able to break the bond. It was long established and very strong. The only hope he had was based on the fact that the two bondmates were not part of the same reality.
Once McCoy was stable, Spock would do all he could. He could not push too hard while the doctor was so fragile, but as soon as it was safe to do so, Spock would remove anything left by his counterpart from McCoy’s mind. He would not leave his friend to the mercy of that monster.
Should he be unable to accomplish his goal, Spock would take his friend to Vulcan where trained healers would be able to do what he could not. Either way, he was determined to free McCoy from his counterpart completely.
Removing his fingers from McCoy’s face, he took his hand instead, touching only a very little skin where the hand was not wrapped in bandages. These wounds had been left untreated for too long to be easily healed, lest without leaving scars. Perhaps McCoy would forever bear reminders of the other world.
Skimming lightly over the human’s dormant mind - not pushing, merely observing - Spock wondered if the other him was sensing it, sensing his presence from where he was, far away.
-
“A simple adjustment of the general transporter settings will do,” Scott said before Kirk could even ask. “It will put our transporters out of range of theirs, and since the exchange between universes can only go over identical transporters, this should keep any unwanted visitors away quite effectively.”
“Then do it,” Kirk ordered.
Scott smiled grimly. “Already did, Sir. Didn’t want to give that other guy any more time to sneak back in here.”
“All the better.” Kirk appreciated some initiative in his men, as long as they didn’t get in his way. And even with the security guards keeping an eye on the transporter, Scotty probably didn’t feel well at the thought that at any moment his other self could come back here.
But there was one very big problem left Kirk had to deal with, and he knew he had to do this carefully.
“Give the data to Uhura so she can transmit it to High Command. They need to spread the word and make sure the same adjustment is made everywhere in the Federation. There’s no point only protecting this ship. If your counterpart is caught or Spock gives the secret to anyone else, I wouldn’t put it beyond that Empire to invade our universe for strategic reasons.”
“Aye.” Scotty nodded. “I didn’t know you even had informed the Federation that a passage was possible.”
“I haven’t yet. But I can’t delay this any longer.”
Scotty seemed worried. “But Captain, if you tell them what happened…”
“I know,” Kirk cut him off. “If they learn about what happened to McCoy, they’ll want to learn anything they can get out of him about that universe. I don’t want to put him through that just yet.” Or ever, for that matter.
Scotty nodded wordlessly. They both remembered the long and uncomfortable questioning the two of them, McCoy and Uhura had been subjected to after their first, brief stay on the ISS Enterprise.
“I won’t tell them about McCoy’s return just yet,” Kirk assured the engineer. “I’ll make something up.”
This was merely postponing the problem, not solving it. Sooner or later they had to reveal what really happened. But Kirk wanted to buy his friend as much time as possible.
Doctor Burke had already approached him with this, demanding to know why he had forbidden her and her colleagues to send the report on McCoy to the brass. Neither of the other doctors and nurses had questioned this order, but Burke was new to the Enterprise. She hadn’t been there two years ago, she didn’t know McCoy. She couldn’t understand, and Kirk, while knowing that she believed they were doing even more harm to McCoy by letting everyone believe he was dead, resented her for that. His temper was short these days.
“One more thing,” Scotty called after Kirk when he turned to go. He seemed somewhat embarrassed. “I think I have been unfair to you after Len disappeared. I should’ve…”
Again, Kirk didn’t let him finish. “Forget it,” he said. “I understand why you were angry. I was angry myself. No harm done, so let’s just forget about it.”
Apparently, that was enough for Scotty. He nodded and turned back to doing whatever it was he was working on.
Kirk had to deal with the story he was going to tell to his superiors now, before they would send the necessary data. It was urgent, but not so urgent that he had no time for a brief visit to sickbay.
Burke was nowhere to be seen; Kirk was glad, not interested in another confrontation. M’Benga was busy tending to a patient. He nodded at Kirk, acknowledging his presence. Kirk nodded back.
Soft singing greeted him when the door to McCoy’s room slid open. It stopped when the captain entered. Uhura smiled weakly up to him from her chair beside McCoy’s bed.
“I know it’s silly,” she admitted. “But I thought perhaps he can hear me anyway.”
Kirk nodded. He’d been talking to his friend himself often in the last three days, wanting to believe he could somehow reach the unconscious man. At the same time, a part of him dreaded the moment McCoy woke up, because only then would they see how much damage the other Spock had truly done to him.
Despite their severity, Kirk already knew that the physical injuries were not the biggest problem.
“I need you to prepare a data transfer to Starfleet High Command,” he told her. “Commander Scott should already have sent you the required data. I will give you the report to go with it in a few minutes.”
The communication officer nodded and left, but not without letting her gaze linger sadly on McCoy’s still from for a moment.
When she was gone, Kirk took the seat she had just vacated, still warm from the heat of her body. After a moment he reached out and gently brushed the too long hair out of his friend’s forehead.
“Bones,” he whispered. Just that. He didn’t have anything to say to his friend.
What he did have was a report to record. Kirk stayed for a minute or two, unwilling to leave McCoy alone with the machines and the noise of the life support unit; eventually he left anyway, silently vowing to come back as soon as he could.
Spock had told him that somehow, his mirror self was still connected to McCoy’s mind. Kirk wondered if his friend knew this in his deeps unconsciousness, and hoped he didn’t. How could Bones ever understand that he was safe now if his tormentor didn’t let him go?
It would be better if someone he trusted was with him when he woke up, to make him understand he was home. Spock couldn’t do it - as much as he cared for McCoy, the doctor might not react well to the face of the man who had hurt him so badly. This left Kirk as his closest friend, and the most obvious choice.
The captain knew this would probably mean he would spend a lot of time in this room during the next several days. But at the moment, there was nowhere else he would rather be.
December 16, 2009
Chapter 2