Title: The Elder and the Young (2/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Spock!Prime
Summary: Final part of a trilogy; follows The Boy and the Sea Dragon and The Man and the Memory. Jim’s soul is caged, McCoy is dying without a cure, and Spock has hijacked the Enterprise in an attempt to save them both.
Previous Part: 1

A/N: In my blissfully ignorant writing state, I’ve neglected to realize until now that not all STXI readers are going to be familiar with the original series storyline I’m working off of: McCoy’s xenopolycythemia. Like all great older tv shows, each episode has a small encompassing plot. The Season 3 episode “For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky” is somewhat McCoy-centric—and one of the few. If you know it already, then feel free to skip on down to the story. I will attempt to convey the relevant parts of the episode in a few lines or less.

It begins with McCoy informing Kirk that he has the incurable disease xenopolycythemia and about one year to live. Cue the plot. There is an asteroid on course to run into the colony planet Daran V and obliterate it. The Enterprise crew goes down to the surface, discovers it’s a ship instead of an asteroid. There are humanoids living “underground” which believe they are on their homeworld Yonada rather than traveling through space as the remnants of a race called the Fabrini. Point in case, McCoy decides to stay there because he’s dying, and Kirk and Spock are told to abandon the mission—and essentially the doctor. They don’t. So upon infiltrating the Oracle (the ship’s computer) to offset the collision course, Spock realizes that the Fabrini preserved their extensive medical database and it includes a cure for xenopolycythemia. McCoy lives.

Any quotes/scenes from this episode will be italicized.

Part Two

It’s often easy to pray for a miracle and be disappointed.

McCoy idly pushes around the poorly replicated mashed potatoes on his tray, courtesy of Chapel who insisted that he not forego dinner.

“The Fabrini will be found, Leonard,” she had said as she attempted to distract him from research. “Until then, you cannot afford to skip the important things in life.”

He had not taken his eyes off the computer screen, half-listening, and replied, “Sure, okay.” So McCoy was subsequently startled by the smack of the food tray right next to him.

Christine merely smiled. “Eating is one of those important things.”

Still, he finds that he doesn’t have much of an appetite. When the door to his office opens, he welcomes the interruption and shoves the half-eaten meal to the side.

“May I join you?”

Leonard motions for Selek to take a seat at his desk. “Sure. Excuse the mess.” He casts a rueful eye over the clutter. “I’ve never been much of a housekeeper.”

The Vulcan surprises him by saying, “Indeed. I assume you allow someone else to prevent such chaos.”

He stares for a moment. “Yeah, Christine. How did you know?”

If only Vulcans smiled enigmatically, without a doubt Selek would probably pull it off the best. “It was a logical deduction.”

Uh-huh. And McCoy’s a skyscraper-tall giant on a pogo stick.

He decides not to pursue that opportunity for teasing; after all, while Leonard suspects the elder Vulcan might welcome such mischievous behavior, he has known Selek for barely more than a week. Besides, Leonard actually gets along with this pointy-eared hobgoblin. Best not to mess that up.

He sighs with theatrics and leans back in his chair, contemplating putting his feet on his desk. (But there seems to be no free spot without a pile or stack that would topple over.) “Sorry, I don’t have anything new and astounding to share.” The last meeting to which Spock invited the doctor was a long discussion of physics equations, time projection, and enough hardcore math to keep Leonard from joining in on the conversation.

“Nor I.”

McCoy rubs fingers over his right temple, trying to soothe the ache there. “You realize this is practically impossible, right?”

“To what do you refer?”

“I know you and Spock are from a race of acclaimed geniuses but how do you expect to find a spaceship that has supposedly been drifting for ages? I mean, this is all based on a theory—no offense.”

“Ah, a matter which I do wish to discuss with you, Doctor McCoy.”

He lifts an eyebrow in disbelief. “Please tell me I’m not expected to predict the future.”

“Unnecessary—and highly improbable, as I do not believe you are inclined to such episodes.”

He grins. “Thank God for that!”

Those eyes twinkle absurdly for a Vulcan. Then Selek fixes his gaze on McCoy and says, “Perhaps it is time you learn the truth.”

He ignores the skittering of nerves along his spine. “And whose truth would that be?” is his mild question.

“Jim has not spoken of our acquaintance.”

Leonard’s brows come down. “You’re sayin’ you know Jim Kirk?”

“I do. Our first encounter occurred on Delta Vega some years ago.”

“But Jim was only there once—” Oh shit. He accuses, “You were the person who helped Jim and Scotty get off that iceberg of a planet!”

“Affirmative.”

Jim had glossed over the specifics of that incident, simply telling his best friend, “Oh, there was this dude who knew how to beam us onto the Enterprise mid-warp. It was pretty cool.” Leonard had immediately bitched at Jim for his attitude and forgotten to pursue the details of the story.

Leonard takes a minute to fit Selek into that picture and finds that his world tilts dangerously. He cannot fathom that Spock and Jim know this person and have never mentioned Selek in any way. Why?

Of course, with his own memories still regrettably spotty, he isn’t sure he would know if Jim or Spock dropped hints in the past. Now more than ever, Leonard wants his lingering amnesia gone. It sucks immeasurably when one realizes oh great, there’s another hole that needs filling. He is rather steady in most areas, from his childhood to the Academy to, unfortunately, the Nero incident. Past that, things become hazy, like an elusive dream, unless it is a memory that prominently features Jim.

“Why are you telling me this?” Wariness rises with an ease that Leonard does not expect.

Selek looks at him in a way that makes his heart pound unhappily. “There are many and varied reasons, Leonard—”

Leonard? What happened to Doctor McCoy?

“—but perhaps the most crucial is why we are here today.”

Now he’s lost. “I thought we’re here to find the Fabrini.”

“We are here because you wish to save Jim.”

McCoy pales, he knows that he does. “I don’t understand.”

Selek continues on in a gentle, yet firm voice. “I cannot imagine a Leonard McCoy who values himself over another in similar need. What do you believe you will achieve by saving your life before Jim’s?”

No one has questioned him this way, not even Spock who is undoubtedly his friend and a fellow confidante. No one has thought to ask.

He tries to buffer Selek’s bluntness with a slanted truth. “Can you blame a dying man for grasping at straws? We have no idea where Jim is but we do have a lead on my cure.”

“Yet you stated that you were uncertain of our success in locating the treatment for xenopolycythemia.”

“I said it seemed unlikely.” Leonard folds his arms across his chest. “What are you fishing for, Selek?”

“I am unable to reconcile what I know with what I am currently presented. It… disturbs me in a fashion I had not anticipated. I must ask.” Selek wants to know, simply, “Why?”

His courage is nowhere to be found. “I don’t know. You can’t measure me with the same stick you would someone else. Let’s just say I’m a bastard, a’right? I don’t want to die tomorrow, two years, or even ten years from now.”

Selek’s silence is almost cutting. Leonard desperately seeks a change of subject. He finds none.

Eventually, the Vulcan must take pity on him. “I see that you are not ready to share your thoughts with me. Please know that I am available if the burden becomes too heavy.” Selek stands and Leonard follows him to the door.

McCoy feels more alone after Selek departs than he did prior to the Vulcan’s visit. He wonders if he is doing any of the people aboard the Enterprise a favor by holding back what he knows about Jim—and the sea dragon. It is not until, in the pitch black of his room, Leonard fights off sleep (its calling emptiness scares him) that he comes to a realization: Selek pushed him knowing that McCoy would not answer and yet somehow also knew that the man could be swayed in the light of his own fear. Leonard is simply terrified of facing the monster in that Abyss again.

His last, drifting thought is How does Selek know me so well?

Spock has his mind fixed several decks below, in the lab designated for the sole purpose of proposing a scientific miracle, though Spock’s body is currently situated in the Captain’s chair. He cannot sit like Jim would, relaxed and with a perfect sense of belonging. This position was never meant for Spock of Vulcan; that he accepted with a glad heart long ago. The call of captaincy does not yet entice him—perhaps because Spock is content to let greater men have the glory.

There is one such great man: James Tiberius Kirk.

Jim to those whom Kirk considers friends and family.

The Vulcan gives no outward appearance of where his thoughts have detoured, only pulls in a breath that is subtly deeper than usual.

“Captain, we are now in range of Lactra VII.” Lieutenant Chekov is speaking.

He vacates the chair and studies Chekov’s panel of star-charts and flashing numbers. The Enterprise will need another seven days of journey at the present pace of warp factor three to the colony planet Daran V. He turns his back, as he does so asking the navigator to complete a report of arrival times in relation to the Enterprise’s range of speed. The Russian nods and hunches over a PADD, muttering in his native language as he types furiously.

Spock is left to his thoughts again, so he turns over the conn to Sulu and enters the Ready Room. It is the one place he finds a surprising solace. Were he more whimsical in his thinking, he would say that Jim’s spirit is heaviest here, an almost physical sense of presence that has not graced the starship in four weeks and six point nineteen days.

In a routine he has grown accustomed to, Spock faces the far wall, closes his eyes and meditates.

In this instance, he does not engage in a release and relaxation of the mind. He ruminates instead, as he has since the first of many private discussions with his counterpart, on a tale not his own.

There is a sequence of events that Spock recalls as though he had experienced them in person. It was the gift of the other Spock, a relay of information in a joint mind-meld; and it was, as they both deemed it, necessary.

He pictures the days of the other Leonard McCoy’s illness, combs through details with an intense clarity:

A chunk of asteroid—a lie, its faux surface of dirt disguising metal and the humanoids therein.

“Welcome to the world of Yonada.”

“I can’t say I think much of your welcome.”

A woman’s voice he does not know, and one voice whose pitch is different but deeply familiar, resonating like beloved chords from a lute. (Jim.)

He continues to pick carefully through the memories, sorting out the bewildered expressions of Yonada‘s inhabitants and the death of a Fabrini. Examine and discard the High Priestess’s denial and the wrath of the Oracle, even the feeling of pain so shocking that it sank into the marrow of his bones and lingered.

Then Spock comes to that moment he cannot seem to bypass: when McCoy’s fate became known, guaranteed to be a painful death within a short span of time.

Spock places his hands behind his back. “May I ask precisely what is troubling the doctor?”

“I don’t think he would have told you himself, but I think you should know now.” Grim words. “It’s xenopolycythemia.”

How interesting that his counterpart experienced the same unsettling (unexplainable) pang as he also had. There are still times when that feeling returns like an aftershock to his system. (Spock has learned to stand extremely still and wait for it to pass.)

What intrigues Spock the most is an apparent parallel between universes. The other Spock faced the judgment of Starfleet Command and, despite the differing circumstances, found their orders to be unsatisfactory.

“You have been relieved of all responsibility for the asteroid ship Yonada.”

The Spock of then had known that he could not easily, and on good conscience, abandon a situation; not when a chance remains, with his help, for resolution. But unlike now, there had been Jim alongside the Vulcan. Thus when McCoy called for them, Jim went and Spock unerringly followed.

These memories do not help him, as he had been warned they would not. The elder Spock can recite the knowledge of the Fabrini, has shared the details of long hours in a laboratory, medical and science teams working side-by-side to create the cure. Yet it was Doctor McCoy himself who tied the loose ends together with his medical expertise and handed over the remarkable results to Spock’s lab crew to synthesize the finished product. Simply put, the two Spocks are scientists, not doctors.

He thinks that his expanse of knowledge has never before been labeled as lacking, yet now it seems true.

They need Leonard McCoy to translate and re-assemble the Fabrini’s medical brilliance. How ironic that the doctor is the crux of his cure.

Spock is, nonetheless, still uncertain that they will succeed because unsettling odds wage a fierce war against his hope. Have they made assumptions they should not?

The plan is this: Once situated near Daran V, the Enterprise will attempt to travel on a projected course, on an inverted journey to the asteroid ship. It is postulated that Daran V remains a constant amidst an array of fluctuating variables. Were the course to be incorrect to the smallest degree, they shall fail. Thus both Vulcans spend intermittently long hours heavily revising and scrutinizing their calculations. While perfection is not attainable, the calculations have yet to fall within an acceptable range of error.

Perhaps that is because a simple truth continues to return to Spock like a harbinger of ill omen.

No two universes are equal.

The variations are infinite and unquantifiable. In essence, Spock has only a set of events that are foundation but not fact; not here, in this universe. And he must convince himself that McCoy’s life is worth the risk of horrendous failure.

Would his Captain feel this… anxiety?

He thinks then of how Jim might interpret their plan to find the Fabrini. (A race which might not exist, perhaps has been completely swallowed when their sun went super-nova. Spock forces that possibility to the farthest reaches of his mind.)

In Jim’s words, it would be “a shot in the dark.”

Spock—the older, wiser, seemingly comfortable in his skin Spock—has said to him, “It is a leap of faith. One we must take.”

Yes, Spock stands alone in the Ready Room for a simple reason. He seeks the missing factor in the face of such ambiguity; the one, solid assurance that allows a half-Vulcan to carry on.

But sadly, Jim is not here.

McCoy has asked Spock to meet him on the Observation Deck between shift changes. He woke up that morning with the determination to do as Selek suggested—only he intends to tell the Vulcan he has known the longest. It will be up to Spock to pass along what is said between them.

Lunch can’t come and go fast enough, not once he’s made up his mind. At one point during those early hours he spends in the medical bay, M’Benga shoots him a strange look and asks what has wound the esteem-able Doctor McCoy.

Leonard replies, “Just something I need to get off my chest.”

“Can I help?”

He smiles. “You’ve been helping me quite a bit, Geoff. Have I said thank you?”

“Once or twice.” M’Benga returns the smile. “I have to say that you doing rather better than the other head-cases I’ve treated.”

He takes it for the joke that it is. “Ha ha. You know you’re ecstatic that I didn’t lose my doctoring smarts.”

M’Benga folds his arms, imitating McCoy’s usual stance. “Have you ever considered the possibility that I might enjoy a promotion to CMO?”

“Nah,” says Leonard. “I’m the one who hired you. I know you aren’t that stupid.“

“Chief Medical Officer looks good on a resume.”

“Yeah but consider what you’d be getting… Chief Medical Officer on a ship captained by James T. Kirk.“

They sigh simultaneously and then share a laugh. Some things are best not wished for. Leonard’s job is one of them.

So it is that Leonard finally distracts himself with a medical case or two (one engineer broke a finger and an female ensign wanted to be sure that she wasn’t pregnant) until the time arrives to depart for the Observation Deck to meet with Spock. He feels better, like a weight has lifted, and enters the turbolift with only a margin of nervousness and mostly confidence.

Yes, it’s time that Spock knew there was a way to save Jim.

And if that hobgoblin doesn’t like McCoy’s plan, too bad for him. Leonard knows that this will be the sticking point, convincing Spock to go along without complaint, despite what it means for McCoy.

The lift murmurs Observation Deck and McCoy steps into the lit hallway while thinking, Maybe there’s a way around the exchange. Maybe we can—

He doesn’t see the blow coming.

Spock enters the empty Observation Deck precisely on time and wishes that humans were more apt to prompt arrivals.

After a blessed silence of watching the stars turns into a light irritation, he comms over to the Bridge and asks Uhura to locate Doctor McCoy. She relays the computer’s insistence that Leonard is on the level of the Observation Deck.

Spock engages in a methodical search and works his way from one end of the corridor to the other, poking his Vulcan nose into every nook and cranny.

“McCoy.”

Leonard wakes sitting up to the insistent pounding in his head. Bang bang bang. A shadow squats next to him and lifts his chin. McCoy squints against the glare of light, making a sound of pain. His head is then allowed to resume resting against his chest. Leonard gingerly explores an over-sized knot on the back of his skull and asks in a slur, “What happened?”

“You had an accident.”

He tries to focus on that voice, finally sees the face looking at him. “W-who are you?”

“Surely a doctor,” says the stranger with a hint of teeth, “remembers his patients.”

“Damn it, man, I’ve probably treated everyone on this ship. State your name and rank.“

“Very well, Lieutenant-Commander. I am Paul. Ensign Paul Landers of Security.” There is a hint of amusement in that voice. “I was recently attacked and suffered a mysterious illness.” There is a pause. “I and three other men. I am recovered now.” The last words resonate with deep satisfication.

Landers leans back into the light and Leonard has a moment to think such dark eyes, like coal before his heart recognizes what his shaken brain is too slow to piece together. McCoy presses his back against the wall, suddenly terrified.

The ensign, with a sweet face turned cunning, looks pleased. “You recognize me.”

“I know you,” Leonard says, “not Landers. You.“

The “McCoy” is both inviting and approving.

Leonard is having none of that. He pulls his feet under him and shakily stands up. “Get away from me.”

“Do not be afraid.”

“You’ve said that before, you bastard. Accident, huh?” are his bitter words. “What? Couldn’t simply trip me? You had to bash my brains against the nearest hard surface?”

“The wound is not permanent.”

That turns him from afraid to incensed. “Fuck you!”

Ensign Landers—the creature—regards the angry human. “You must know that you cannot forsake your destiny.”

Leonard tries to walk away. An arm snakes out and chains him in place.

“Stay.”

“Like hell I will!” Trying to twist and break the hold is hard when dizzy. “I—I’m meeting Spock and he’ll find us here…” McCoy realizes that he has no fucking clue where here is. He’s hardly on familiar ground in the rest of the ship because of his damn missing memories.

“The Vulcan Spock is of no worry to me. And little use, both Spocks.”

Leonard thinks this creature is not only creepy, it’s fucking insane. “You expect me to believe that? If you’ve been on the ship all along, you could have cornered me anywhere. Yet I’m about to…” …tell Spock the truth. Leonard understands clearly what motivates this thing. “You don’t want anyone else to know what you’re planning. Afraid we’ll figure out a way to send you back to Hell?”

Landers has a pleasant smile. So it is much worse to see that expression and know it isn’t the real Paul Landers doing the smiling. It is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “There are… conditions to our contract.”

“I haven’t made any damn contract with you!”

“You wish to restore Jem-me.”

“I want to get him away from you.”

“Very well. I give back your captain and friend to this universe. But it will not be so if you do not meet my needs.”

Every devil writes in fine print. Leonard shudders at the implication of that word needs. “You gotta have my soul, destiny, or some shit like that. I get it.”

“I need more.”

“What else can I possibly give?”

Landers’ hand squeezes a bruise into his arm. “Commitment.”

McCoy snarls, “I said I’d do it!”

“If your commitment is true, then you will say nothing of it to another.”

Leonard closes his eyes, fighting against the urge to sway. “Yeah. Fine. No telling anybody.”

A hand, more like a claw actually, digs into the front of his shirt and pulls him close enough to catch the scent of the other’s breath. It is metallic and strange. The word raw comes to mind.

“Understand, McCoy, that Jem-me‘s destiny is tempting. Betray us and I will keep it.”

Leonard has to turn his head to the side just to take in air. “What makes my destiny as good? Why mine?” he wants to know.

He can almost feel that smile against his neck. “McCoy’s,” croons the sea dragon, “is bitter and sweet—”

Leonard jerks back as something sharp nips his skin. The creature lets him go.

It finishes, “—and rare.”

McCoy does not stop to think, only panics for an escape from the enclosed room. When he flees through a door, finds himself standing at the right-angle corner of a corridor, he drops to his knees—nauseous, violated, and exceedingly glad to be alone. After collecting himself, Leonard decides that crawling on all fours might be the only way to get away from this place. His legs are numb with shock.

“Doctor?”

His ears almost superimpose “McCoy” and for a wild second Leonard is certain that it followed him, wants to drag him down into the Abyss like a prize.

Then Spock says more carefully “Leonard?” and the man knows he is safe.

“Spock. God.”

“If you require assistance…”

“No, no. I’m okay. Here. On the floor.” He tries to smile and fails.

The Vulcan stares at him, no doubt contemplating if the doctor has lost his mind. At least, Leonard wouldn’t blame Spock if that were the case.

“Need a hand, Commander?”

Leonard freezes and Spock looks beyond McCoy and replies, “Not at this time, Ensign.”

McCoy can only stare, face bloodless, as Landers strolls over to Spock, and convincingly chirps “Yes, Sir” before smiling down at the horrified doctor. “Thanks, Doctor McCoy. I promise to be on time for my appointment,” Paul Landers assures him.

Spock watches as the ensign walks to the far end of the corridor and vanishes behind the turbolift’s closing doors.

Leonard is on his feet by that time with one hand firmly clamped onto the Vulcan’s shoulder. Spock says, “You might have informed me if an urgent matter required your attention.” That has to be Spock’s way of saying, You could have at least had the decency to spare me the wait and the worry.

He swallows once, latches onto an immediate solution and blurts out, “Read my mind.”

Spock goes absolutely still. “If you jest…”

“I’m not. Do it. You can see my memories, can’t you?”

Spock places a suitable distance between them and Leonard is sorry for the abrupt end to their physical connection. “I decline.”

“Damn it, Spock, there’s something you need to see!”

“The mind is delicate, Leonard. I would not—”

“Screw delicacy!” he says fiercely, adrenaline muting how ill he feels. “I know I’m broken up here!” He jabs at his head with a finger. “This isn’t about me, you dimwit, it’s about Jim.“

Those eyes darken. “Explain.”

“That’s just it,” Leonard says, the anger gone as quickly as it came. “I can’t explain. I—am not allowed to talk about it but you will be able to see what I need you to—for both our sakes.”

Suddenly, Spock is there to prop him up when he wobbles out of the blue. McCoy uses the opportunity of Spock touching him to ask quietly, “Please. It’s important. You know I wouldn’t dream of asking if it weren’t.”

That face is grave, the Vulcan’s countenance tense. Leonard almost accepts that his friend will turn him down when Spock finally says softly, “I will agree because you ask this of me. However, it is necessary to propose a condition.”

Oh God. Not another one.

“What is it, Spock?”

“The mind meld must be overseen by an experienced party. I do not wish to harm you, Leonard, unintentional or otherwise.”

He almost asks “Who?” but realizes “Selek.”

“Yes.”

“A’right,” says Leonard McCoy. “I can live with that.”

Next Part

Related Posts:

• The Elder and the Young (12/12) – from February 24, 2011
• The Elder and the Young (11/12) – from February 23, 2011
• The Elder and the Young (10/11) – from February 21, 2011
• The Elder and the Young (9/11) – from February 11, 2011
• The Elder and the Young (8/?) – from February 7, 2011

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