0Title: Grave or Gone
Author: klmeri
Fandom: TOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: McCoy is afraid to make the same mistake twice. When his father reappears in his life, he decides he would rather be haunted by a loved one than let him go again.
A/N: Written for McSpirk Holiday Fest, Halloween Round; based on the prompt by trek-tracks: After a trip to a strange planet, McCoy finds himself being literally haunted by the ghost of his father around the Enterprise. Needless to say, it’s hard to be rational when confronted with a spirit manifestation of your guilt that you also kind of hope is really your dad, so it’s up to Kirk and Spock to figure out a) what’s going on with their doctor, b) what this really is, and c) how to stop the spooky spectre.
What an amazing prompt! I always get ridiculously excited about telling ghost stories. Thanks again, trek-tracks, for the inspiration. I know this story might not be quite what you asked for, but I hope it entertains you nonetheless.
“Hello?”
Even before the shadows of the hallway swallow up the word, Leonard McCoy knows something is desperately wrong. The bay is silent, but it is not empty.
He halts near the bend of the corridor, his attention momentarily diverted by the dying of another overhead light. Knowing of no planned outage or system malfunction that would have been communicated to the ship’s occupants, he moves on cautiously.
From the ward up ahead, no sound carries forth. No impeccably dressed nurses hurry in or out. The opaque door is closed.
McCoy rubs his arms where tiny goose bumps have formed, wondering how, given that he has grown accustomed to the uncomfortable coolness of Sickbay, he could be shocked by the air’s downright chilliness now. Though he is usually not conscious of the hum of equipment, clattering of trays and carts, and constant whoosh of the automatic doors, their absence is as loud to his ears as a bell clanging.
A sense of presence grows, creating the urgency to compel him forward. There is danger too, the more timid part of the doctor’s brain insists. Still, McCoy goes.
Up close, the door does not disguise the outline of the person waiting on the other side.
“Who are you?” Leonard questions the stooped figure, guessing it must be a man bent from age, pain, or both. Bemused now since the sensors have not reacted to his arrival, he places a hand on the door. The tiny ruby chip in his family’s ring is a bright glint against the cold fogged glass.
When an imprint of a hand darkens the other side, matching perfectly to his own, he gasps. “Open the door! You know me! I can help.”
The hand withdraws. Urgency gives way to fear.
Too late, thinks McCoy. Once again, too late.
He bangs his palm against the barrier, tears pricking his eyes. “Let me in! I can help you, I swear it!”
At last, the force preventing the door from opening relents; the mechanical parts click and groan to life, blowing a gust of air in Leonard’s face when the door retracts.
But the man inside is already fading to nothingness. Leonard trips over the threshold, catching himself on the jamb to prevent his fall. The man’s expression is barely readable, but Leonard knows what it holds: disappointment, sadness…
Resignation.
Bile rises in McCoy’s throat. Too late.
He swallows and cries, “Wait!”, hurrying after the sad man, this man in pain—his father—but the floor isn’t quite right, growing ahead of Leonard no matter how fast he runs.
“Wait!” he cries again, hearing the echo of his voice as a tearful whisper in his ears, and after a moment another voice answers.
He opens his eyes to that sound, finding a face quite unlike the one belonging to the man of the mist. This new face is very, very close to his own.
“You with me?” its owner asks with soft concern.
“Jim,” Leonard names him, surprised by how weak the word is. He licks his lips. “I was dreaming again?”
Jim nods as he draws back, his face becoming obscured by the darkness of the bedroom. A hand reaches out of that darkness, tenderly brushing hair away from McCoy’s forehead. “Same one?”
Leonard closes his eyes. “Yeah.”
“C’mere,” murmurs his partner, shifting on the bed to tuck in close to Leonard’s side.
“Jim…”
“It’s all right,” Kirk tells him. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
Leonard snorts quietly and turns on his side, pressing his face into his companion’s neck. “Tomorrow,” he promises. “Tomorrow I’ll tell you.” Fingers find his hair, sift through the strands like Leonard is a frightened child in need of comfort.
Something the person from his dream used to do for his young son years ago.
Leonard presses his face more tightly into the groove between neck and shoulder so he cannot see past the darkness, cannot pick out the details of the body, the face. There’s no scent on the skin like usual, only a touch of coolness.
The man cradling him—Jim, maybe, or his father again—commands, “Sleep.”
Even terrified, Leonard obeys.
He wakes up alone in bed, the dim lighting of the wall chronometer revealing his quarters, not Jim’s. Later, no matter how fiercely he washes the face of the man in the bathroom mirror, the terror will not leave it.
Leonard blames the unnamed planet for his father’s return. David McCoy had been but a painful memory and a shadow on the heart before then. But a little dot appeared on the star-chart of the sector the Enterprise was passing through, a seemingly innocuous mark color-coded as ‘M Class’. Yet no one could recall having heard of or learned about it, and that fact alone drew the eye—and the attention—of everyone.
The captain, being a man who took his duty to pursue the frontier very seriously, approved Science’s request for a brief exploratory mission. Into the late hours of delta shift, both Kirk and McCoy had listened to the Science Officer’s excitement over this anomaly (that is, as excited as Vulcans allow themselves to appear, although Leonard would argue Spock’s nattering on is always a dead giveaway) and Leonard found himself volunteering to take the medical aid assignment of the landing party that should have fallen to a junior officer instead.
That’s his mistake, of course. More so, he will decide later on, because the planet was barren.
“Nothing but rocks,” said a lieutenant in Security red, kicking at a pile of those very objects which disappointed him.
Having not come up with much of interest on his tricorder, Leonard would have agreed with the guard; but as he stood observing the other scientists studiously combing the area, gathering their own intel, Spock came into view at the edge of the clearing. Leonard forgot his disappointment.
The doctor said idly as the lieutenant bent down to inspect a thumb-sized rock, more weather-worn than most of its neighbors, “Don’t let what you see fool you. Usually what’s invisible is what is most dangerous.” Then he left the man behind, a grin stretching his face. Even when Spock turned around at the last second possible, taking away McCoy’s fun of trying to scare him, his grin never wavered.
“Looks like I found something interesting after all,” Leonard said, bouncing up on the balls of his feet.
The Vulcan wordlessly raised an eyebrow but shifted aside nonetheless, and the doctor happily accepted the quiet invitation to join him.
That was then. Now the very same security officer, Lt. Barron, is in Sickbay, raving mad, and the first inkling of Leonard’s mistake has taken root.
“You can’t see her,” the lieutenant wails between bouts of protesting the restraining grip of the medical staff working hard to pin him down. He yells at McCoy while the doctor loads a cartridge of sedatives into a hypospray, “But she’s there!”
Once the medication starts to take effect, a relieved Leonard steps back from the patient gurney to locate his tricorder. He notices instead a glint of obsidian near his boots.
Where did this come from? he muses, picking up and turning over the rock in his hand. Absently, he tucks the small thing into an empty pocket.
Then Barron moans like he is experiencing pain, seizes, and Leonard has his hands full for the time being.
The first time Leonard meets his father outside of his nightmares, he has abandoned a ringside seat at a sparring match in lieu of seeking less anxiety-inducing entertainment. While both teams of knuckleheads (that is, the ship’s captain and first officer as one team and Security’s latest recruits as the other) in the anti-gravity chamber looked like they were having a grand ole time, Leonard decidedly was not. Kirk might be attempting to teach the trainees about the unpredictability of an opponent’s attack with Spock playing the perfect distraction, but that lesson not then, now, or ever does Leonard’s blood pressure any favors.
Far from the gymnasium, all seems right in his world again. Though he fully plans to give both his lovers an earful about stunts going wrong and potential brain damage at the proper time, at just that moment his temper has cooled enough for him to enjoy a leisurely stroll along the deck. Those who know him well enough to pick up on his good mood nod in his direction and offer polite greetings. Others consciously avoid looking him in the eyes as they do on any other day.
Hands locked behind his back, Leonard decides he will take the longest route to Sickbay, if only to have a few more minutes to retain his peace of mind. At the main corridor crossing, he ventures left, beginning a circuitous path that follows the curve of the ship’s outer hull.
Once he reaches the deck’s crew quarters, the traffic thins out. Leonard sighs once, twice, and allows any remaining tension to melt away. Before he knows it, he is the only person heading to the end of that corridor where the hall takes a sharp bend at one of the starboard-side turbolifts.
Up ahead, a door slides open. After some seconds, no one steps out of the dark space, and the door remains gaping wide, as if waiting.
Eyebrow cocked as he comes abreast of the doorway, Leonard wonders if the door’s sensor is malfunctioning, or if someone inside is preparing to play a joke on some unsuspecting passer-by. Well, Leonard thinks, amused, he is quite prepared to give as good as he gets if the latter should be the case, and quickens his stride.
He’s wrong. He is not prepared at all. The ghoulish face of his long-dead father melts out of that darkness, the sickest of jokes.
Leonard doesn’t realize he cries out. The sound of his alarm echoes down the hall, harmonizing with the laughter of a group of officers exiting the turbolift at its end. But they recognize the yell for what it is, the men and women freezing their conversation as they all stare in his direction.
Scared beyond coordination, Leonard stumbles back and crashes into the wall opposite the doorway. His gaze stays glued to the face floating in the cabin’s dark interior, growing ever wider. A young man stepping from another cabin nearby jogs to his side, asking if he is all right, but the young voice is merely a whisper in McCoy’s ears.
You, Leonard clearly hears his father state, despite the man’s mouth not once moving, did this to me.
Leonard’s legs give out. Someone grabs onto his arm as he begins to slide down the wall.
David McCoy stares at his shocked son for a moment longer, then winks out of existence, leaving Leonard with only the sound of his harsh breathing and the concern of those gathering around him.
You can’t see her!
Leonard understands Barron’s meaning now. Bad dreams cannot be hidden for very long, not if one rarely sleeps alone. But the visitations? He would be out of his mind to speak of them. No one else sees David.
Even if someone believed him… Jim wouldn’t let him work. Spock would monitor him. Ask uncomfortable questions.
And then McCoy would have to talk about that, which he hates above all things. His darkest secret. His shame.
Better to let the insanity pass, he decides. After all, he is beginning to think his problem isn’t actually a problem.
Contemplating this revelation, Leonard nods to M’Benga as they pass in the hallway, any pleasantry he might have added to his greeting forgotten. He also veers aside to skirt a wall, avoiding a group of nurses heading on break while he tries not to be obvious about confirming the identity of each of them. Just when the sensation of being watched is prickly enough to concern Leonard, Chapel nearly scares the dickens out of him by stepping out of the storage room unannounced. She frowns at his pale face; he forgets to be angry and scurries down the hallway without saying—or yelling—a word.
Though he has time-sensitive work to do and little enough time left to finish it, Leonard never makes it to his office. The soft, steady pulse from a cardiograph draws him off course like a fly to a honeypot, albeit a nervous fly. Leonard enters the isolation ward, which should be empty, sweat gathered at his temples and his hands tucked in his armpits to mask their trembling. He stops short of a wall partition, just enough to see around it but wisely not too far, unwilling to completely expose himself.
The pulse is coming from a monitor above a biobed, and a man stands facing it. He throws no shadow.
Leonard eases around the wall partition, engaging the privacy screen to curtain off the room. “Why are you here?” he asks plaintively.
The apparition goes on gazing aimlessly, the monitor thrumming overhead.
At times Leonard didn’t know how to talk to this man in life; now he’s even clumsier speaking to the dead. He tries again. “Why?”
David turns around. A sick feeling settles over Leonard to see that gloating, hate-filled stare.
You did this to me, his father whispers.
Leonard tries to swallow past the lump forming in his throat. “I didn’t want to.”
Hatred leaves no room for sympathy. The next whisper is a demand: You must find the way back.
Leonard scrubs his burning eyes. “Back to where?”
But the ghost of David McCoy keeps his own secrets and takes them with him when he vanishes.
David doesn’t seem content to be himself. It horrifies Leonard that first time his father reaches out with wisp-thin hands and takes another’s face. Leonard strangles on his own scream. There is no blood, nothing so gruesome, but suddenly there is a shifting smudge, almost like smoke, where Jim’s face had been—and there the face is, somehow pasted on David, merging with wrath rather than real man. He yells and yells until David puts Jim’s face back where it belongs.
Jim acts like he doesn’t understand Leonard’s reaction, moving to capture him even as McCoy shakingly moves out of reach, a feeble attempt to escape. Jim hurriedly calls for Spock, and when Spock arrives, the ghost drifts to the corner of the cabin, an amused overseer of a horror show he created.
Jim and Spock watch Leonard while Leonard watches his father. Eventually, Leonard cannot stand the anxiety of waiting for his father’s next cruel trick. He backs all the way to the exit of Kirk’s quarters and leaves all of them behind without regret.
Strangely, neither Kirk, Spock, nor the ghost follows him.
From then on, Leonard refuses to be fooled. He closely inspects the eyes of those looking back at him. If lightning exists there, those eyes are borrowed; not to be spoken to or associated with. Eventually David comes to understand that in order for Leonard to remain a willing party in their encounters, David must come as himself or not at all. With that tentative truce established between the living and the dead, that they should share company more frequently becomes a matter of course.
Explaining a supernatural attachment to level-headed co-workers has become a joke to Leonard. Of those who are slowly but surely becoming more aware of his odd behavior, he takes to laughing in their presence. Those calculating stares are never as surreptitious as the on-lookers think; their quiet expressions of concern are understandable but nonetheless futile. That no one seems to be laughing except McCoy is part of the spiraling madness his father inspires.
It’s a madness in which Leonard no longer feels scared. He looks for David now, impatient for the form to materialize out of shadowy openings, angry if his father isn’t trailing him around the ship.
The horror of his situation simply fades away with time. He accepts that a father has returned to a son who killed him. Leonard is okay with feeling regretful and grateful at the same time.
The problem is, he cannot tell anyone.
How would that conversation even go?
He imagines himself saying over breakfast one morning, Jim, Spock, did I mention that my dead father is haunting me? But I’m sure happy to see him, so I won’t worry about the consequences just yet. Toast, anyone?
They love Leonard, and Leonard loves them. But Leonard is not about to give up his chance at redemption.
The brig is brighter than McCoy is used to, not like the darkened areas of the ship David seems to prefer.
Leonard stares past the forcefield, part in consternation, part in confusion. “Why did you bring me here?”
As if McCoy might be talking to him, the cell’s occupant raises glazed, blood-shot eyes from the corner he has chosen to occupy. It seems to take him a second too long to recall where he is, and even longer still to struggle to his feet at the approach of visitors.
“Why’s he in there?” Leonard questions more warily, turning to the man by his side. “He was released from observation.”
Kirk looks past McCoy to Spock before answering. “The lieutenant attacked his roommate, claiming the other man stole from him.”
“Stole what?” Leonard wonders, returning his gaze to the imprisoned officer.
The lieutenant makes a noise, then, like he cannot comprehend his captivity or their interest in it, staggering closer to ask in a fragile voice, “Did you see her?”
Kirk’s countenance tightens. “Bones, what do you see when you look at him?”
Leonard is more confused. “Why?”
There’s an unforgiving truth in Kirk’s eyes. But even now the man seems to have trouble saying it to McCoy.
It dawns on McCoy that Jim and Spock did not bring him here to diagnose an unstable man. At least, not the man in the cell.
But before he can give voice to that suspicion, the lieutenant’s voice gains a keening edge, capturing his visitors’ attention. “Did you see her? Where is she? I know it’s my fault. I told her that.” His hands reach forward but the cell’s invisible forcefield crackles in warning, prompting a hasty withdrawal.
He sounds so forlorn, thinks Leonard, who swallows hard, feeling like he can almost understand this poor man. Almost… Reaching into his pocket, he draws out the polished rock that he had found. He hasn’t been able to part with it since then.
Barron makes a choked noise—and all hell breaks loose. Heedless of the energy-charged barrier, the man throws himself at Leonard with an enraged scream. Though the shock of energy is not enough to kill a man, it launches Barron backward into his cell. The man clambers to his feet and charges again. The third time, he growls lowly but crawls their way, chanting, “It’s mine. Mine. Mine. Give her back!”
Kirk clamps down on McCoy’s forearm, pulling him back several steps despite the assurance that Barron cannot penetrate the forcefield. Spock changes his position, choosing to block Leonard’s view of the snarling lieutenant.
Taken aback by Barron’s strong reaction, Leonard half-demands, “What in blazes is wrong with him?”
“Noel can’t really explain it,” Jim replies, his voice filled with tension, much like his stance.
Spock adds, “But her theory is that an unresolved trauma from Lt. Barron’s past recently resurfaced, triggering his erratic behavior.”
“Trauma.” Leonard swallows again, this time more noisily. “What kind of trauma?”
“His high school sweetheart died.” Jim’s voice lowers. “The couple snuck out to a reservoir at night, and when he wasn’t paying attention, she drowned.”
“That’s awful.” Leonard shifts just enough to see around Spock’s shoulder. The man’s animalistic rage seems to have dissipated, for now Barron is openly weeping. Begging, too, McCoy realizes. Begging him. He looks down at his little treasure. “Did this come from her, do you think?”
Jim carefully turns Leonard to face him. “Bones…” As his gaze drops to Leonard’s hand, his tone sharpens. “Where did you find that?”
Spock puts his back to the cell, asking, “May I see it?”
Wondering why he suddenly feels so uneasy, McCoy hands the rock to Spock while answering Jim. “I spotted it after Barron arrived in the ‘Bay. I thought…” He amends sheepishly, “That is, I don’t know what I thought. It’s a rock, Jim. Didn’t seem like it would belong to anybody.”
“On the contrary, this rock does not seem ordinary,” remarks Spock. “I should like to analyze it.” The Vulcan’s gaze pins Leonard when Leonard’s breath automatically hitches. “Will you allow that, Doctor?”
Leonard manages to nod and forces himself to look away. He doesn’t need that thing. Why shouldn’t he allow it?
Involuntarily, his gaze finds the crying lieutenant. He wets his lips, returning to his original question. “Why did you bring me here?”
Kirk’s hand moves to McCoy’s back, sliding down his spine. Again, Jim is looking to Spock for confirmation of something. “Is there anything you need to tell us, Bones?”
Leonard draws in his shoulders, choosing to answer his superior rather than a man who holds his heart. “Negative, Captain.”
Jim closes his eyes briefly. “Bones,” he says, then oddly nothing more.
It’s Spock who moves back from them, effectively ending the conversation. “Captain, with your permission, I would like to take this… sample to the lab.”
Kirk offers his second-in-command a nod and a grave “Dismissed.”
Leonard doesn’t question whether or not that dismissal includes him, using the opportunity to escape the area on the Vulcan’s heels. The one glance he spares for the man left behind reveals a crack in Kirk’s facade: fear.
McCoy doesn’t want to think of why Jim would be staring after him with fear in his eyes, so he chooses not to think of Jim at all.
That night, McCoy wakes up crying, his shuddering sobs filling up his bedroom as the bereft lieutenant’s had consumed his tiny cell. Jim is there, having snuck in unannounced at some point after Leonard fell asleep and tries to soothe Leonard, taking him into his arms. With a chill, Leonard feels that something in him returns only slowly to his lover’s embrace. That part knows how fiercely Jim wishes Leonard would tell him what has been troubling him, but after a few futile rounds with only stilted responses, Jim does not dare question Leonard further.
Tragically, in his partner’s arms, that is the final time McCoy sleeps.
“Dr. McCoy? Dr. McCoy.”
Leonard pulls out of a fugue state to find the Assistant CMO watching him with a cautious expression. Listless, McCoy’s gaze flits away. “You don’t see him,” the doctor murmurs, captured once again by the figure behind M’Benga’s shoulder.
David meets his son’s stare impassively.
M’Benga straightens up and steps back from McCoy’s desk. “I’m sorry, Doctor,” the man says at last. “You have been removed from duty. Captain’s orders.”
Though the words echo distantly, still Leonard comprehends them. He harrumphs, sounding for a moment like his old self. Then his head hangs. “Good luck,” the man says blankly.
David eventually trails into the corridor but only long after M’Benga is gone.
Leonard isn’t crazy. He’s haunted.
“It’s not the same thing, is it?” he muses worriedly. Inside the empty observatory, the creature next to him is a tiny blur of white framed in the viewport’s darkness.
David speaks of his only interest, as he does frequently: Will we return?
Leonard promises him, “Soon,” without knowing why.
“Spock, report.”
A room away, the commanding quality to Jim’s voice causes Leonard to open his eyes. He rolls onto his back, softening his breath so that he might hear more of the conversation.
“We collected many samples from the planet, but none like this one, Jim. The chemical analysis revealed organic components—trace amounts of hydrogen and carbon.”
“Carbon?” Kirk repeats sharply. “As in… a fossil?”
“Precisely. Though the computer detected no similar compositions in the records of our database, logic suggests it is likely a remnant of a life-form which was once native to the planet. Given the ratio of sediment to elemental compounds, I suspect this rock, as Dr. McCoy mistakenly calls it, comes from a skeletal structure.”
A tear leaks out of the corner of McCoy’s eye. He starts to laugh, a burst of choked sounds at first, turning to full-bodied laughter. Soon Kirk and Spock appear in the archway separating the main cabin from the bedroom, staring at him.
“A bone,” he gasps, unable to stop his laughter. They had been digging around in a graveyard.
What fools! When will they learn? Poking through some ancient race’s cemetery with their little tools, clumsily disturbing the dead while collecting samples, and pocketing trinkets like nosy children.
Hands cup his face, long elegant fingers aligning against his temple, cheek, and nose. “Leonard, please,” Spock says in a strained voice, “calm yourself.”
Jim leans into view over the Vulcan’s shoulder, the look in his eyes strangely heartbroken. “Oh, Bones.”
Like a living, breathing version of a sedative, Spock is able to sooth away his hysteria. When the Vulcan removes his hands, Leonard resolutely rolls onto his side, facing away from both men. He closes his eyes.
But he won’t sleep. No matter what they try with him, he refuses to sleep.
He whispers, “We can’t go back there.” I’ll lose him.
Silence, for a time. Then from Spock, “I believe we must.”
“We have to,” Jim affirms softly. “We need you.”
Emotion forms a knot in McCoy’s throat. How he loathes the understanding in their voices. How he loves them for it too.
Regardless, Leonard believes in only one course of action.
Science is on their side, Spock insists. The tiny dot may have vanished from the star-chart but finding the coordinates of the planet is as simple as reviewing the ship’s mission log. Expressing a confidence that Leonard himself cannot feel, Kirk has his helmsmen plot a change in course. No one questions the order. The bridge crew don’t glance at McCoy either, who clings weakly to the side of his captain’s chair in silence.
Kirk looks up at him, his expression neutral but that godawful fear stark in his eyes. Spock takes up a position on Leonard’s exposed side. They believe they are supporting him, helping him.
Leonard pushes away from the pair, backing up until he reaches the staircase. Wordlessly he turns around and ascends it to the upper level of the bridge. He breathes a sigh of relief there. No one but his father follows him into the turbolift.
The metal of the lift is cool against his forehead. He confesses to his constant companion, “You might be him. You might not. But if we go back, you’ll leave me.”
We must return.
“You never heard me say goodbye,” Leonard goes on, in that tiny whisper. “I tried, Dad. I really tried to save you.”
His father urges, heedless of his son’s grief, We must return.
Star-chart position or not, ship’s sensors be damned, the planet is waiting for them. Jim wants to take a team to the surface. Spock does not.
An unsurprised Leonard watches the pair argue. Jim needs to meet an enemy he can face, that he can fight, in order to feel assured of a resolution while Spock sees unnecessary risk, claiming that they can simply transmit all of Science’s samples including the bone fragment back to their rightful place.
Leonard’s merely waiting for a decision to be made, turning the obsidian rock Spock had returned to him after much pleading over and over in his hands as the debate heightens inside the transporter room.
Spock eventually wins, pointing out to his stubborn captain that if a team visits the surface, then Leonard will surely insist he must go too.
Smart Vulcan, Leonard applauds silently, his fondness for Spock overriding his anxiety just briefly like a familiar friend.
Kirk glances at McCoy, then, that ever-present fear in his eyes, his resolve clearly weakened. He moves aside, as does Spock, while the scientists carefully arrange the samples from the planet onto the transporter pad.
Spock looks over the assortment before wordlessly turning his dark eyes to Leonard.
Leonard lowers his gaze and shuffles forward, opening his palm to the Vulcan. A warm hand lands on his back as Spock retrieves the rock, only to place it on the pad.
Leonard moves out from under Jim’s hand, carefully positioning himself to flank Spock and Jim such that he remains at the edge of everyone’s periphery, yet is still close enough to the platform itself.
Kirk releases a slow breath and calls to the tech at the console, “Energize.”
The beacons light up, for the shortest instant making Leonard’s father visible in the center position where Spock placed the rock.
Leonard flies up the steps in that moment while everyone else gapes at the spirit. His father’s head turns toward him, then, and together the beam encompasses them, only the echo of “Bones, no!” left ringing in McCoy’s ears.
Leonard comes to himself on a cold, hard patch of ground. He doesn’t know where he is, how he came to be there, or why he is alone. His thoughts are clouded, muzzy, as if after waking from a long, undisturbed sleep. When he sits up, he reaches for his medkit—but there isn’t one. No communicator, either.
Rocks and other sharp-edged things hidden in the dirt bite into his palms as he levers himself to his feet.
In that deserted clearing, Leonard’s memory begins to return. He had stood in this exact spot weeks ago—the mission to explore the unknown planet. The unhappy lieutenant, sane that day but out of his mind shortly thereafter. And a smooth, cool bit of obsidian in his hand.
Leonard remembers now. He saw his dead father on the Enterprise. That shocked him, scared him to his core. And then the apparition wouldn’t leave.
He pivots in a circle, taking in his surroundings with growing disbelief.
No, it can’t be. He’s not crazy. He didn’t follow some ghost here… did he?
Knowing the answer, Leonard begins to curse. Jim and Spock are going to kill him.
And Leonard can’t say a word edgewise. Like a fool, he thought more of his shame than being honest. He spurned help and counsel, and in the end risked his life.
Damn, but how’s he going to convince them not to divorce him?
After a moment, Leonard closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and shakes his head clear of any lingering deja-vu.
So, the master plan should be to wait here for rescue. Surely it cannot be too long before the transporter is ready to go again. Right this minute Jim is probably jumping up and down on the transporter pad, having a conniption fit. Spock—lord, those possibilities doesn’t even bear thinking about.
Leonard, having some of his common sense restored, is decided. Stay put.
But, as he has often complained to others, the natural law of the universe must lean towards chaos.
The ground begins to rumble, then quake, and just as it opens up under Leonard’s feet, he has a split second to marvel at the genuine irony of fate. Then the planet itself swallows him whole.
The most relevant thing about dying which everyone knows: it hurts.
Leonard groans, blinks against the dust clouds obscuring his vision and coughs out the leftover particles that settled in his lungs. When his eyes finally adjust to the darkness of his new home, he groans a second time.
The planet is not only one giant graveyard; it has catacombs. The small round hole several meters far above Leonard’s head acts like a miniature skylight such that he can see he has dropped into a tunnel. The tunnel is thankfully tall enough to allow a man of his height to stand up. Given its narrowness, he imagines if he were to stretch both arms out at his sides, he could touch the dirt walls.
As a doctor, the matter of making certain he should be moving at all is of paramount importance. McCoy goes through the methodical testing of his limbs, his torso and neck, all the while wishing his insane self had at least thought to have a medical tricorder on hand. Not that a chaotic mind would lend itself to smart decision-making.
Convinced he is more bruised than injured, he continues to sit for a few minutes to let his mind settle. The air in the tunnel is unwelcoming, musty and cold. He hears no sound other than his breathing.
McCoy rallies himself. Tunnels have beginnings and ends. Besides… “The mission is to explore,” Leonard reminds himself, then swallows a snort. Maybe some of Kirk’s adventurous spirit has rubbed off on him over the years.
The man finally comes to his feet. Ahead of him, the darkness seems to be inviting his curiosity. Leonard figures he shouldn’t disappoint it.
When Leonard arrives at a fork in the tunnel, he goes left, thinking he ought to be afraid since he’s trapped underground. But the fear which normally occupies such a thought is strangely absent. Maybe the unexpected fall has given him courage.
The tunnel forks again, and again he goes left. On and on he walks, imagining that above, below and all around are untold graves of the planet’s long extinct race. It occurs to McCoy then the ship’s sensors should discern these tunnels deep in the earth, yet the initial scan of the planet had revealed nothing of the kind. An odd little thought makes him wonder if his presence here has finally exposed their existence. Then Jim and Spock may very well come down here, looking for him. Another odd thought strikes: But how can they find him if he himself does not know where he is, or where he is going?
He could stay here.
McCoy shakes his head, but that sinuous thought won’t be shaken out. He’s vaguely aware of a shroud encompassing his mind again. There’s a thread in the dark. Something, some external influence is pulling him in a specific direction. Every time the tunnel forks, he chooses the left, not knowing why.
The tunnel is wider in some areas; cloying in others. As the space around Leonard continues to expand and shrink, he feels he is walking in great circles. This maze has no openings, no ways leading out. He should stay here.
The stream is a surprise—a thin line of brackish water running in a crack in the ground. McCoy bends down and touches it. The water is colder than the air, a shock to his system.
“If anyone is there,” Leonard finds himself saying, “I could use your help. I don’t think I’m meant to be down here.”
Silence is the only answer. The ghost of his father, whom he had stubbornly—and mistakenly—refused to abandon, has already forgotten him. If there is a creature living in this darkness, it isn’t interested in him.
This time, when the tunnel forks, he hesitates, ignores the thread’s pull and follows the stream to the right.
A subtle charge of energy enters the air. Leonard tries to ignore it, tries to keep his focus on the whisper of water, the only thing real down there. Sometimes he looks up to the distant horizon, wishing for a faint light, a way out. The raw cold of the earth has begun to make him shiver, lancing through his uniform and freezing his exposed throat.
Why do the puffs of cold air against his bare arms feel like tiny hands? Why are they plucking at his clothes? Air shouldn’t pluck.
Astonishment swiftly followed by panic clears his head completely. He breaks into a run.
Ahead of him, something white gleams in the darkness—pillars? As McCoy draws closer, the pale blurs resolve themselves into oblong patches whitewashed carefully onto the black-painted pillars of a gate. Surrounded by utter darkness, there is something terrifying about its stark simplicity.
Beyond the gate, the bones begin.
Stacks of black, weathered skulls. Grinning jaws with long incisors. Bones jutting crudely from crevices in the rock walls.
Leonard stumbles and wonders if after all he has found his way to the end of his existence.
He sinks to his knees.
And finally, bringing light to the darkness, his father returns.
“Is this it?” Leonard asks after a long silence. “You brought me here so I’ll be dead with you?” McCoy is suddenly, wildly angry. “I tried to save you!” His fingers dig into the earth. “Damn it, doesn’t trying count? You think I wanted to stop your life support? I loved you!” He hates that his eyes are filling with tears.
David’s form begins to thin.
Leonard cannot look at the thing any longer, on some level is glad it might finally disappear and leave him alone. “I did my best,” he says, choked. “I’m sorry it wasn’t good enough.”
I know.
His head comes up.
David floats to him. Your sadness. And mine. We are the same.
Leonard doesn’t know how to respond to that, or even if he should.
The ghost of his father seems to shrink towards the ground, a sigh of air, becoming hardly more than a wisp of smoke.
Thank you, the voice comes, a stranger’s lilt, not the voice of David McCoy at all. Thank you for returning me to where I belong.
“That’s it?” he asks numbly.
Do not linger, the spirit advises him. They know you are here.
The wisp vanishes.
Leonard stares at the empty spot for a long time. Then he slowly climbs to his feet, returning to the gate, never looking back.
Finding the way out seems possible now that Leonard is free of the spirit. In fact, all he has to do is retrace his journey back from the subterranean boneyard. Having never taken any other direction but left at each intersection, barring that last tunnel which led him directly up to the gate, the task becomes simple enough. At least by focusing on it, he doesn’t have to think about what is behind him.
After a time, a faint glimmer becomes visible, the skylight. Leonard has returned to the starting point. A sound greets him, the tell-tale slide of boots against earth. Leonard pulls up short when he’s suddenly blinded by a light pointed directly in his face.
“Bones!”
“Jim?” Leonard drops the hand shielding his eyes and crashes forward into the source of the light with a glad heart.
Kirk reciprocates the sentiment by locking McCoy in a rib-crushing hug.
Feels like Jim, smells like Jim, sounds like Jim, he thinks. Leonard is so happy, he is incapable of words.
His face pressed to McCoy’s neck, Jim rambles on, sounding as if he is also overcome. “Bones. Dear god! I thought—we worried that—”
Leonard knows the rest without needing to hear it, and says so, adding repeatedly at the end, “I’m sorry, Jim, I’m so, so sorry!”
Jim pulls back to give Leonard a light shake. “Doesn’t matter,” the man declares in a firmer tone. “We’re together, and we need to leave now.” He slides a hand from Leonard in order to thumb open a communicator. “Spock, I have McCoy.”
Kirk’s voice echoes down the tunnel. A shriek returns, coming from the darkness, freezing the two of them. The sound is nothing human, a raw scream of animal rage—and hunger. Jim tenses, removing his other arm from McCoy to take out a phaser and direct it towards the noise. “What was that?”
Heart thumping in his chest, Leonard tightens his hold on Jim. “Don’t know. Don’t want to find out.”
They both hear the distant crashing of earth and pebbles down the tunnel, accompanied by scraping sounds, like claws against stone.
Leonard grabs the communicator. “Spock!”
Spock’s sharp tone comes over the channel. “Doctor?”
Before Leonard can respond to that, Jim drags McCoy backward to the spotlight made by the hole in the surface. Leonard had failed to notice the rope hanging there. One glance at Jim’s face, and he’s groaning aloud.
“Climb,” Jim orders.
“But…”
“That’s an order, mister!”
“I failed this test in gym class,” Leonard warns his captain and, muttering, complies.
Halfway up and already puffing hard, he glances down to see Jim take hold of the rope and give it a hard jerk. Then the rope starts to move on its own. When Leonard’s head clears the hole, he sees why.
“Hi there,” he says to the Vulcan at the rope’s opposite end. “Care if we drop in?”
Spock’s expression is flat enough to discourage other jokes.
When they’ve finally got Jim on the ground with them, Spock wastes no time in contacting the ship for a beam-out.
In the time before the transporter takes hold of them, Leonard looks at the polished dark rocks surrounding them. “So… did everybody empty their pockets?” he teases.
Kirk and Spock take in his appearance from head to toe.
“Jim,” Spock says in an unusually soft tone, “it appears Leonard feels like himself again.”
Jim breathes out slowly, never taking his eyes off McCoy. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Leonard owes them an explanation. He knows that. But for now, all he wants to say is, “Thanks for coming after me.”
“Of course,” says Spock.
“Always,” promises Jim.
McCoy closes his eyes as soon as he feels the frisson of the transporter effect across his skin. When he opens them, he is on the Enterprise, standing in between the two men who love him most in the galaxy. Those he loves in return.
Stepping off the platform, a tiny part of him acknowledges his sadness that someone else he loves has left him again. But he won’t give voice to that sadness here. It has no place with his feelings for Jim and Spock. For them, he will be happy. As the spirit said, do not linger.
Lingering is for the dead.
The End
Related Posts:
- Follow Me Dark – from November 30, 2023
- Say a Little Prayer – from November 10, 2021
- Twist and Take – from October 31, 2021
- Clear from the Battle (But Not the War) – from October 11, 2021
- Consider Me Accounted For – from October 3, 2021
