Chapter Text
It started slowly. At first, he excused it as the result of an overworked mind, constant stresses built up too heavily. Dealing with the T’lareeni phage, diplomats, a terse Kirk, and an overzealous Starfleet Command. He’d catch a whisper in his ear, a shadow in the corner of his eye, and he’d walk into an empty room convinced that it was occupied.
He was able to brush it off, blame it on the lack of sleep as he combed over test results for an endemic plague that he was set to solve before they could be ushered off into some other diplomatic emergency that only the Enterprise could solve.
Currently, McCoy studied the test results, examining the protein structure of the phage, wondering how easy it would be to manufacture a vaccine. Just as he jotted down several notes on his PADD, fingers ghosted across the back of his neck. He jumped cursing, spinning in his seat… and found only the empty lab.
Soft gamma lights illuminated the eerily quiet room, science stations long since abandoned by other staff. He hadn’t even noticed the shift change. The last thing he remembered, outside of reviewing the samples, was saying good night to one of the more tenacious ensigns from science. Based on the ache in his neck and back, it must have been hours ago. He groaned, stretching, only then reaching back to rub his neck as the memory of the touch lingered.
“Computer, what time is it?”
“It is 0327.”
“Shit.” He groaned, almost entirely forgetting what had roused him from his musings. In just a few short hours he was supposed to be in the transporter room to be transported down to some kind of breakfast meeting that the T’Lareeni were hosting regarding their potential admission to the Federation. Per usual, all the department heads were required to be there. With a sigh, he stored his samples and saved his file, tidying up the lab for the next time he’d be able to get back here. Just as he went to leave the lab, he remembered the feel of fingers across his flesh. A small shiver crawled up his spine before his common sense caught up and he sighed again, shaking his head.
Clearly, he needed sleep.
…
His alarm sounded at precisely 0630 and he groaned, dragging himself upright as the lights slowly brightened. Almost three hours of sleep. He’d had worse as a med student. Still, he was feeling every one of his years, and his limbs moved slow as he got ready.
He showered quickly and brushed his teeth, keeping an eye on the time. There was more than an hour before he had to report to the transporter room, so he replicated a small coffee and downed it one go, before he got dressed. The T’Lareeni had told hem it was casual dress for the breakfast and he was grateful the dress uniforms were not required. His arm and shoulder ached as he dressed, and he tried to stretch it out, muttering under his breath about getting older. Probably from hunching over the samples all day.
Certain that he’d be one of the first up to the transporter, he headed up still stretching his arm and rolling his shoulder. But when he stepped inside, he saw Kirk, Spock, Scotty, and a smattering of others were already gathered.
A sharp spike of fear hit his heart at the sight of Spock, but he promptly quelled it.
More than two months had passed since their brief foray into the alternate universe, but sometimes, it felt like yesterday. The memories were sharp and vibrant and real. He’d done his best to work through the fear, but the dreams were there, the memories assaulting him randomly. Slowly, the anxiety was fading, and he had almost convinced himself that he was over it, as if it was something someone could just get over.
As if he wouldn’t tell any patient of his what it really was - an assault, a rape of the mind.
His report of the incident was an almost complete fabrication, born from a mixture of shame, guilt, and fear. He had told Jim the truth of it, mostly. That it had been a forced mind meld, but Kirk didn’t get the implication – having only experienced a consensual mind meld with a close friend. Kirk had no concept of what it might feel like for someone who’s thoughts were forcibly, violently invaded and ripped away. He didn’t know about the nightmares, the flashbacks. He didn’t know how McCoy’s heart seized up or his limbs shook, or how his thoughts were sometimes pulled back to that sickbay, to those dark, cruel eyes.
It was easy enough to convince Jim to keep it out of the reports. All he had to was suggest that Spock would be negatively impacted by the knowledge of what his counterpart had done. That was all that Jim needed to hear, he was willing to do just about anything for Spock, including submit a false incident report. Which was just fine for him. Spock couldn’t know. He didn’t want the pity, or the disgust, or the scrutiny that might come with the assault being common knowledge. He wouldn’t be able to handle any special care… or lack thereof, that might come from that. Some things were better left unsaid, unfelt.
He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts from his mind. Settle them somewhere else for examination later.. or never.
Spock nodded at him as he approached. Kirk turned.
McCoy smiled, expecting a warm greeting, but instead was met with a deep scowl, “You’re late, and you’ve made us late.”
“Well good morning to you, too.” McCoy scowled back, getting into position on the transporter pad. He checked the time surreptitiously as he did so. It was already 0755.
How had he managed to take almost an hour to drink a coffee and walk there from his quarters? Spock raised an eyebrow at him from across the transporter pad and McCoy’s scowl deepened, feeling a nervous, uncertain flutter in his chest.
“We’ll discuss this later.” Kirk told him firmly, sotto voice. “Ready to transport.” He barked at the lieutenant at the control.
That familiar electrostatic tingle filled his limbs and then they were on the T’Lareeni’s home planet, outside what they called Celebration Hall. It acted as some kind of civics center.
A humanoid species, the T’Lareeni had an average height almost a foot taller than most humans. They were open and jovial, and had limited internal conflict on their moderate sized planet.
Most fascinating was their ability to express sexual characteristics on a whim. In general, T’Lareeni presented in a neutral sex. It was only in private, with intimate partners, or while attempting procreation, did a T’Lareeni present as anything other than the third neutral sex. Besides the obvious physiological questions that the process presented, he was eager to determine whether or not their people had ever gone through a phase where those who chose to carry offspring (or not) were discriminated against in the same manner that other species had dealt with long ago. As it was, there appeared to be no discrimination in practice present-day, and he restrained from digging deeper during the early stages of the T’Lareeni’s admittance into the Federation.
The Enterprise had been on planet for only a week, and it had been a thoroughly enjoyable one. Because of the T”Lareeni’s kind and open nature, and the picturesque quality of the planet, groups of crewmen had been beaming down on unofficial shore leave.
When McCoy first beamed down, he had been quickly shuffled off with the rest of the medical staff to a large research facility. Like many new Federation members, the T’Lareeni were eager to exchange scientific and medical knowledge. They might have been quite socially advanced, but their technology and medical knowledge was several generations behind other Federation members, and there were a few unresolved diseases, including a childhood disease that had a significantly high mortality rate.
Outside the hall, a small group of the T’Lareeni greeted them enthusiastically. They were dressed in elaborate outfits. The T’Lareeni were regularly adorned in fashionable, extravagant outfits. Even the medical uniforms were sleekly designed, with moderate collars and tapered sleeves, bright colors and intricate designs.
However, as he looked at the dazzling outfits around him, he began to wonder if they should have worn their dress uniforms after all. Kirk was tugging at his collarless shirt, looking slightly put out. But they barely had time to feel awkward before they were being led inside where several long tables had been set out.
Kirk and Spock were seated nearest the head of the council, while McCoy was a couple seats down, but across the table so he could see them both. He was sandwiched between two T’Lareeni, both nearly a foot taller than he. One, he recognized from his first day at the clinic. Both were dressed in bright green tunics, with high collars, adorned with silvery, glittery jewelry, on their wrists, ridged necks, and pierced down the cartilage of their ridged noses. Every move produced a gentle, pleasant tinkle as the jewelry clinked together. Paired with the T’Lareeni’s deep, rich voices, he felt as though he were listening to a private concert. It was pleasant and intoxicating, as the sounds echoed in the hall.
Putting on his best smile and trying to work past the odd morning, he turned to Aisa, a scientist who worked in the research center, “I’m happy to see you here, Aisa. I’ve been making good progress in analyzing the protein structure of the varicellian phage. I’m pretty confident we can take some of our developed vaccines, and use that as a jumping point. The phage structures are strikingly similar to a disease we used to call the chickenpox.”
“That is excellent news, Doctor-Leonard.” Aisa said smiling wildly, their silver jostling as they brought their hands together, “We shall discuss your findings later, but for now we must enjoy the food. I hope you will find it to your liking.”
As if on cue, the dishes were wheeled out and placed in the center of the table. It became apparent that they were expected to dish themselves family style, and never one to turn down real food, he helped himself. The replicator didn’t come close to a real home cooked meal. He was pleased to find that the T’Lareeni food, like their style of dress, was elaborate, intricate, and rich.
As the meal continued, the subdued conversation swelled, tongues loosening with familiarity. Down at one end of the table Scotty was laughing uproariously with Uhura, while at the other Kirk was deeply engaged with the minister in some matter of debate.
McCoy was thrilled to learn that Aisa was friends with Ethreem, the T’Lareen seated to his right. They engaged in quick witted banter, many of the jokes flying over his head. But he took in the deep, easy laughs, the melodic tinkling, and the rich food. He laughed at one of the few jokes he understood and caught Spock’s eyes from across the table. Spock returned his smile with a slight raise of his eyebrows, in that distinctive way that told McCoy he was enjoying himself as well.
Feeling pleased, he turned back to Ethreem who was making a self-deprecating comment about their cooking skills.
“Well, the closest I’ve come to cooking in the past three years is pouring my own glass of brandy.” He supplied, “I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at a few home cooked recipes for once.”
“Maybe we will have time to have you over before you leave. Perhaps you have some tips that will help me impress Aisa.” Ethreem smiled, looking over McCoy’s head, with what could only be a flirtatious expression.
“That would be delightful!” Aisa laughed.
“I’d love that.” McCoy said, “We can compare schedules later today in the lab.”
“I will research some perfect recipes.” Ethreem added.
For a moment, he felt content, happy.
And then... the room shifted, shimmered, and he swayed in his seat, gripping the table to ground himself. The lights dimmed, his ears ringing, and he heard Aisa’s voice, distant, concerned, “Doctor-Leonard, are you unwell?”
Before he could answer, he blinked…
An explosion rocked the room and he was suddenly engulfed in roaring flames as though the world itself was on fire. Ash rained down over him as flames licked his limbs, and he flailed, screaming as he burned, wheeling backward, chair screeching but the sound was lost to the roaring flame. Corpses surrounded him – bright red, molten, and blackened ash. Distant explosions over the roaring fire.
The thick smoke choked him, acrid, as fire burned into his nostrils, every inch of exposed skin felt like it was blistering. He screamed again as the fire caught and crawled up his pants, and the roaring flames filled his ears, and he fell, landing hard on the burning ground. The smoke and fire and ash made it impossible to see or hear, anything. He threw an arm over his mouth and nose, coughing, but there was no escaping the suffocating smoke, the burning in his throat and nostrils.
Spock, Kirk, he needed to find them. He scrambled upwards…
and found himself back in the hall.
No trace of fire or flame. Only concerned faces watching him. Startled silence.
His chair lay on the floor. Beside him, Aisa was on the floor, holding their face, Ethreem standing over them. Confused, he looked around the room. Spock had risen from his chair, as had many of the others, the festivities ground to a halt.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
Sickening fear curdled his stomach. His limbs were suddenly cold.
“What? But the… ? Didn’t…?” he trailed off, seeing only confusion on the faces watching him.
Then he saw Aisa was bleeding and went to help them, “Aisa, are you alright?” He made to kneel beside them but Ethreem reached out a hand to stop him.
“You are unwell. Please do no assist.”
Ashamed, he pulled back, but before he could answer, he was being hauled to his feet by a hand wrapped tight around his upper arm. He met Kirk’s eyes, equal parts concerned and grim. Spock had also come around the table, hands clasped behind his back. Expression neutral.
“Jim, I –“
“You are going back to the ship, and you will report to medical for an examination.” Kirk’s mouth was pressed into a tight line.
“Aisa, I am so sorry,” McCoy said, turning back to them.
“I will accompany the doctor back to the ship.” Spock said, stepping closer.
“No!” McCoy said, too quickly, too loudly. Embarrassment quickly came roaring to the forefront, overtaking the spike of fear. Kirk and Spock exchanged a brief glance and he tried again, “No, I -I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s morning. I’ll go myself.” Kirk looked into his eyes, weighting his trustworthiness, “I’m fine, Jim. I promise.”
Kirk was still staring him down though. He tried to look reassuring, but nerves and adrenaline still fluttered in his chest.
“If I hear that you didn’t report to medical for an exam, I’ll take you off shift until you do.” Kirk threatened, though his tone was gentle. McCoy nodded. As if he wasn’t as perturbed as everyone else. He wanted – needed - to figure this out.
As he walked back out to transport, he could still hear the echo of the screams of pain, feel the phantom fire burning his flesh. The fear, the pain – it had been as real as anything else.
...
“Well, everything looks normal. Short of being moderately sleep deprived, there’s nothing out of standard range here.” M'Benga said, handing the results over. They’d spent the last two hours running through every battery of test that they could think of. So far, nothing had jumped out at them. McCoy glanced at the results, not expecting to find anything different. “Are you certain you didn’t fall asleep? It’s not uncommon to experience vivid dreams so quickly if you’re that tired.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” McCoy shook his head, already having discarded the idea. “It was too real. I felt the heat burning me, I could smell burnt flesh.” He shuddered at the memory, the smell still in his nose.
M'Benga sat down on a stool and gave a thoughtful hum, “Were you in the same place in the… vision?”
“I- actually, I don’t know. The smoke was too thick.” McCoy sighed, thinking again of the injury he’d inflicted on Aisa, “I mean, physically, I was definitely there, but wherever the fire was, I don’t know.”
“We could keep you here for 24 hours, see if it happens again, maybe get some bioreadings if we’re lucky.”
“I can’t. I have to get back down to the surface and help with the vaccine.”
“Out of the question.” Kirk said from the doorway, walking in with Spock half a step behind. McCoy flushed, angry at the intrusion, but Kirk only turned to M'Benga, “Dr. M’Benga, what’s the diagnosis?”
M’Benga glanced at him quickly for permission, which McCoy granted with a sigh and roll of his eyes, “Everything’s normal. Slight sleep deprivation, but nothing Dr. McCoy hasn’t experienced before.” He paused, adding thoughtfully, “I don’t suppose the T’Lareeni have any telepathic capabilities?”
“No. They do have latent empathic abilities, but they have not used them in many generations. I doubt many of them realize the abilities are there.” Spock provided, before turning his scrutinizing gaze on McCoy. “What exactly happened, Doctor?”
As he launched into a repeat of the story, M'Benga used the opportunity to step away.
“So, you were hallucinating?” Kirk asked, coming further into the room to lean against the biobed where he was still seated.
“No, it was… it felt real. I could see, smell, feel. It was horrific.”
“But it wasn’t real.” Kirk said. He gave a vague gesture and McCoy shot him a look, “Maybe you fell asleep?”
“I don’t believe he did.” Spock interjected before he could response, “I observed the Doctor approximately one minute and forty-three seconds before the incident. He appeared to be quite alert.”
“Then until we figure out what happened, you’re to remain on the ship.” Kirk said, though he did have the decency to look a little reluctant.
“You can’t do that!” he jumped up, agitated, “I’ve already promised them I’d develop a vaccine for them!”
“You injured one of their premier scientists while you were hallucinating. I can’t let you back on planet again. What if you hurt someone worse? These are new members, and while they were understanding today, I doubt they’d be so understanding if it happened again.” Kirk said firmly, “So no, until we know exactly what happened, and how we can prevent it, you are not to leave this ship.”
“Jim -!”
“This is non-negotiable. You’re lucky I don’t completely remove you from duty. I expect you to work with Dr. M’Benga to figure out what happened.” With that Kirk turned to leave.
“This is ridiculous.” McCoy muttered, petulantly, and then caught Spock before he could leave, “Spock, the T’Lareeni, do you know of any rituals or ways I can apologize? I’d like to do something for Aisa, but I don’t want to offend them anymore than I have.”
“I will look into it.”
“Thanks.” he said, watching as Spock tipped his head before following Kirk out of sickbay.
Now to figure out what the hell was wrong with him...