The Elder and the Young (3/?)

Date:

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Title: The Elder and the Young (3/?)
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 | 2


Part Three

“Relax your mind,” Selek advises.

Leonard grimaces. “If you’re telling me to stop thinking, I seriously doubt that I can, knowing the hobgoblin’s gonna poke around in my brain.”

“You may withdraw up to the moment that Spock initiates the mental contact,” Selek assures him.

Spock, on the other hand, doesn’t seem too keen on mind-melding with a jumpy participant. He tells Leonard, “Doctor, you must be certain that this is what you wish; otherwise, it would be illogical to proceed.”

Not to mention a forced and probably permanently damaging mind-whammy on McCoy. Leonard sighs. “Look, my nerves are what they are. Can we just get on with this?”

The Vulcan and the doctor settle onto the floor opposite of each other. Selek gracefully folds into a cross-legged position directly within an arm’s length of both. At least one of us is relaxed, Leonard thinks wryly. He takes a deep breath of his own, to steady himself. This is for Jim. To save Jim.

Studying the blank-faced First Officer, Leonard feels a calm rise and envelope him.

Yes, this is for Jim—and he is working with Spock towards that common goal. They both want their friend back.

He nods to the Vulcan watching him with almost midnight eyes.

Fingertips lightly rest against his skin as Spock positions his hands on either side of Leonard’s face. McCoy closes his eyes, only half-listening to the words of the rite. There is a soft weight in his head as Spock pushes lightly, unobtrusively against a mental barrier, as Selek had explained. The man thinks, rather out-of-the-blue, fascinating.

Indeed. Doctor, do you acquiescence to my presence in your memory banks?

Leonard drifts one of his thoughts almost absently. This is intimate enough that you ought to call me Leonard.

Very well. You must grant me access, Leonard.

How?

The push is now more of a caress. Choose a memory you desire to share.

Leonard, without knowing why, sees Joanna in his mind’s eye, hears a muted word that might be his name over the shrill cry of a newborn.

He finds himself standing in a hospital room cradling a child.

His child.

There are other sounds filtering in, flitting images of a woman on a bed, nurses and visitors bustling around the man and babe in activity. Yet, it all seems still and sweet; nothing matters except the squalling little girl in his hands.

A sudden presence at his back drives instinct to the forefront and Leonard pulls the child against his chest protectively. Then Spock, in standard science blues, steps into McCoy’s range of vision.

The Vulcan is not looking at Leonard. He stares at the child, red, naked and crying.

“My daughter,” Leonard says, wondering why there is a Vulcan overseeing the birth of Joanna McCoy.

Time is impossibly stretched as Spock lifts his gaze from Joanna to Leonard, speaks slowly as if he is puzzled. “Leonard, this is private moment.”

He understands and rejects Spock’s uncertainty simultaneously. “Joyful moments are to be shared and I can’t think of a happier time in my life.”

Spock replies, “Then I am honored.”

With a smile, McCoy murmurs in a soothing Southern tone thickened by emotion to his Joanna. “There now, darlin’. Don’t cry. You’re just fine, you’re gonna be fine…”

He wants to linger here but knows that he cannot. Painfully and with reverence, he lays his child onto the bed, kisses the crown of her head once, and steps back. “It is just a memory?” I won’t be leaving her alone?

“It is only what you have experienced in the past.” Spock stands by an open door. Beyond that door is, quite literally, nothing.

“We must move on,” Spock tells him. “Focus on the memory you need.”

Leonard walks to the doorway, pausing to shut his eyes. So strange, he realizes, to have a body when there should be none.

Spock is close; McCoy feels him, patient and waiting.

The man pushes down his trepidation and thinks dark eyes. Without warning, the words come back to him Get away from me—

“Do not be afraid.” (Do not resist.)

He opens his eyes, not even aware of having stepped through that doorway, to the sight of Ensign Paul Landers with a cruel smile. Paul—no, the creature—looms tall and Leonard realizes with a lurch of his stomach that he is looking up.

They are in the memory.

His mouth opens and words tumble out unbidden. “You’ve said that before, you bastard—” He can’t stop himself, playing a role already defined whether he wants to or not.

The memory plays itself out, Leonard’s body stupidly trying to escape and the creature preventing him. He says Spock’s name and the creature replies, “The Vulcan Spock is of no worry to me.”

Then it turns in another direction (not right, why is this not right?) as it says, addressing someone else, “And little use, both Spocks.” Then it focuses on McCoy again with all the proper words, punctuating that the man has little choice but to accept an unpleasant fate.

This sea dragon is as tangible and raw and cruel inside McCoy’s head as in person.

And real—too real, like it is living within Leonard.

“—if you do not meet my needs—”

Stop it he can’t say. Something’s wrong!

When the sea dragon leans into him, crooning of the “bitter and sweet” of McCoy’s destiny (mine is a whisper), he feels how badly it wants him. He also knows that to say yes is the only path—

A pair of arms envelop him from behind, attempt to drag him from the creature’s hold and the gleaming, fathomless eyes. It ignores the backwards jerk of Leonard’s body, its mouth shaping his name. McCoy.

Leonard’s mouth shapes “Yes” in response, but an inexplicable, strong call of “Leonard” reaches him in a double echo. The strength of the arms increases and successfully removes him from the seductive pull of the creature.

Leonard stares ahead, only half-aware that someone holds him close and carries him away. He continues to watch the sea dragon. It grins. Soon, McCoy.

The memory disperses and the spell shatters like glass.

McCoy sags where he is cradled and croaks “Spock?” He is gently turned around.

Spock, I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Spock’s face is grave—and not quite solid. It shifts, a second layer peeking from beneath—an older version with wrinkles around the eyes and sharp hollows under the cheekbones. Leonard marvels. Before he can touch that face, it changes back into something firmer, more Spock.

He asks Spock, “What just happened?”

“The memory was not pure. It was overlaid with another’s will.”

He tries to deny the idea but finds that he cannot. “I… don’t understand.”

“Leonard, we must retreat. There is danger here.”

There’s danger in his head?

Fuck. “Okay,” he agrees quickly. “How do we separate—”

Blackness rushes in like a tidal wave and he doesn’t catch Spock’s parting words.

“Do not fear, young one, the doctor is well,” a low voice says. “Ah, and also lucid. Leonard?”

Leonard McCoy mutters “Lucid, my ass” and opens his eyes. His head is pillowed in Spock’s lap. The younger Vulcan stares down at him, a tiny crease between his heavy brows. McCoy complains, “I feel like you did a river-dance on my skull.”

“I do not understand this term ‘river-dance,'” Spock replies.

“I’m fairly positive that there’s a pretty Irish lady on this ship who knows how. Remind me ask her to show you some time.” He sits up and groans. “Where’s that damn medi-kit?”

Selek hands him a fully loaded hypospray without a word. Leonard depresses it into the side of his neck and sighs. Not the best patch-up job, but the medication cuts the pain into manageable chunks.

Deciding that he doesn’t like the silence and that the Vulcans are likely to wallow in it, McCoy voices his concern. “I’m guessing that thing wasn’t my imagination going haywire.”

“No.” It is Selek who answers. “The being who has taken Jim has also established a hold in your mind.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Can things possibly get any worse?

The Vulcan is still talking. “At this time, it is not powerful enough to override your control of your body but I fear that, should you experience another encounter, the hold will strengthen to the extent that neither Spock nor I will be able to help you.”

“Then we’ve got a serious problem on our hands.”

“Affirmative. Doctor—” There is a steely quality to Spock’s voice that Leonard rarely hears. “—you cannot undertake this ‘deal.’ To do so would be detrimental to your person.”

“We’re Starfleet officers, Spock. Jumping into the line of fire is part of the job.”

“As Acting Captain—”

“Don’t go that route with me!” Leonard warns sharply.

Selek interrupts them both. “To argue is fruitless. The facts are unchanged: Leonard requires the cure for xenopolycythemia and Jim is likely to remain captive until such time. Spock, you comprehend the repercussions if we shift our attention from the search for the Fabrini.”

“Affirmative.”

“Then I ask that you give priority to the battle we presently face than that which shall proceed it.”

Leonard watches as Spock tilts his head and says, “I will accept your wisdom in this matter.”

“Thank you, Spock.”

Leonard once again finds himself comparing the two Vulcans, startled at their similarities. “There’s something funny going on here… and I don’t mean the whole shit-fest we’re wading through.”

Selek returns his look steadily and explains after a brief pause, “I am Spock, son of Sarek. In another universe you, Leonard McCoy, were my friend.”

He latches onto the only piece of that drop-kick statement that makes sense. “Were? Are you saying I’m dead… in this other universe?” Fuck, universe. If Selek isn’t a crazy-ass Vulcan, then Leonard’s going to kill Jim.

Save Jim first and then kill him flatter than dead.

“Yes,” is the simple answer. “You lived a long and prosperous life.”

Leonard finds no reason to distrust the open honesty of those surprisingly human eyes.

He brings a hand up to his forehead. Human eyes.

His voice is weak. “I need to sit down.”

“Doctor, you are seated,” Spock reminds him.

“Then I need to stand!” he snaps. “Give me a minute.” Leonard does just that, stands up and walks away. He ignores Selek’s low murmur to Spock.

Damn it. Why is Leonard McCoy always the last to know?

A better question is: Why didn’t Jim tell him? It’s not like the idea would have been a far stretch from the chaos of Nero’s attack. The bastard could have said, “Hey, Bones, I met super-old Spock from a parallel universe today.”

Leonard would have smacked the kid upside his empty head.

Okay. So maybe McCoy understands why Jim skipped that tiny detail, but that doesn’t make him any less unhappy.

He sighs and continues to massage his temples, finally turning back to the two quiet Vulcans.

“A’right, Spock and Spock, if either of you knows me as well as you think you do then you won’t be shocked that I’m pissed.”

Oh how he hates it when Spock raises that damnable eyebrow, like McCoy is a clown doing hand-stands and acting the fool. Now there are two eyebrows, equally damnable and annoying as hell. He wonders if Old Spock (what an appropriate name, thinks Leonard wryly) annoyed the other Leonard McCoy as much.

Old Spock seems to be a hell of a lot wiser than his Spock. “Might I request that, since I have shared a truth with you, you will share a truth also?”

“I’ll try.”

“Is Jim unharmed?”

So, the hobgoblin is the same in any universe—a loyal, loving friend to the great Captain James T. Kirk. Somehow, Leonard isn’t sorry at all to have the notion reaffirmed. In fact, it soothes him in a way that he cannot explain.

“Not really,” he says. “It’s hard to put into words.” The doctor grimaces. “The creature said it had the ability to separate the soul from the body. I doubt that qualifies as unharmed. Jim—what there was of him—was, I don’t know how to describe it, a shadow of what he should be.” He adds quietly, “I’m afraid that there won’t be much left if we don’t hurry.”

Heavy silence meets his statement.

Then the First Officer rises from the floor, unresponsive to Leonard’s hesitant “Spock?” McCoy watches as the outer door slides back and the Vulcan walks through it and disappears into the ship. The room feels bereft thereafter, like the quiet mourning in the wake of loss.

Old Spock lingers, though he does not speak to Leonard. Eventually McCoy whispers, “I’d rather be alone too.” Instead of protesting, the Vulcan slips his hands into the sleeves of his robe and does as the doctor asks.

Leonard spends the next hour pondering why he hurts so much and yet feels no physical pain.

Chekov is bright-eyed and muttering to himself in Russian as he works over his console. Next to him, Sulu unfortunately suffers from lack of sleep due the agitated state of his mind—not knowing what is going on and where they are headed. Pavel plots coordinates per Mr. Spock’s instructions and Sulu keeps the ship from veering off-course. That is the general extent of the information to which he is privy.

Everyone knows that Mr. Spock is working against Starfleet Command’s orders. This isn’t the first time that the Enterprise has disobeyed a direct order or found a way to circumvent an Admiral’s demand. Most of the crewmen are not shocked to find themselves warping through space with an entirely different agenda than the mission roster they should abide by.

Of course, this crew is even more determined that they don’t want any other captain than their own Jim Kirk. If Spock’s plan involves finding and restoring Kirk and salvaging the balance of the ship, then each officer will follow the Vulcan to the end of the universe and back.

Therein lies the problem.

The crew of the Enterprise is working on a basic trust of their Vulcan First Officer and now Acting Captain. That trust will wane in time if Mr. Spock continues to keep silent counsel and let the crew work blind. Sulu is almost positive that Doctor McCoy and the Vulcan guest are privy to Spock’s mission, but that will not do nothing to ease others’ minds and assuage their fears that Kirk shall never return to the Enterprise.

A ship without a true captain is likely to sink.

Spock is a good leader and most certainly a logical one. But he is not James Kirk and they all know it.

“Sulu. Sulu!”

Hikaru Sulu is pulled from his thoughts. He turns at the navigator’s urgency.

“Where were you?” asks the young Russian. Then quickly, “Nevermind. Look at this!”

He leans over in his chair and peers at the star-chart. “What is it?”

“I do not know! But when I try to change the settings—” Chekov inputs a series of commands, and the screen refreshes itself. They both watch as the map slowly tracks back its original position, which is far from the current location of the ship.

“It is strange,” says Chekov. “It will go nowhere else.”

“Where is that?” mutters Sulu.

His friend shrugs. “The computer diagnostics returns okay.” Pavel looks slightly wide-eyed. “It could be a signal if—if someone wanted us to go there.”

“Pavel, I seriously doubt—”

“But what if it is the Keptin!” Chekov leans over to whisper furiously.

He takes one last, grim look at the screen. “We shouldn’t assume anything. Let Mr. Spock take a look.”

Pavel visibly deflates and nods. “Yes, I will call the Commander.”

Sulu thinks about offering his friend comfort but realizes that there is none that will suffice—for any of them.

Not until Jim is back and the Enterprise is under Kirk’s command once again.

Next Part

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About KLMeri

Owner of SpaceTrio. Co-mod of McSpirk Holiday Fest. Fanfiction author of stories about Kirk, Spock, and McCoy.

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