Fractured Images

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek; Spock-McCoy)

Rating: R

Summary: McCoy has a bone to pick with both our Spock and the Spock from the Mirror Universe...In theory, this one-shot can stand alone, but it's also a companion piece to Reflective Irony, Mirrored Courage, A Subtle Bond, A Lion's Share of Courage and The Horned Gate.

~

I slammed into my cabin and hurled myself onto my bunk. I landed on my back, so I clenched my fists, crossed my arms against my chest and glared up at the ceiling. God damned, pointy eared, tyrannical bastards—both of them! My Spock and the Spock from that hellish mirror universe, I mean. They were both determined to infuriate me. As far as I could tell, that was the sole purpose of their lives.

I kept glaring at the ceiling. That didn’t make me feel any better. Of course, I didn’t want to feel better. If anything, I wanted to feed my anger. Wallowing in annoyance sounded like a damn good idea too.

The door to my cabin opened. No signal, no warning—it had to be either Spock or Jim. I turned my head at the intruder. It was Spock. Good. Now I just needed something to throw at him.

Spock stiffened as my hand found an old-fashioned medical book on the shelf by my bunk. Then he ducked as I sent it sailing across the room in the general direction of his head. Not that he should have bothered—my aim was way off.

The Vulcan frowned at the book, which had landed behind him and several paces to his right. “It is as well that you chose to practice medicine, Doctor; I do not believe you would have had much of a career in baseball.”

All right—he gets a few points for knowing about a good-old terran sport. To reward him for that, I softened my glare. “What do you want, Spock?” I demanded.

He pulled up a chair next to my bunk. “Will you tell me what is on your mind, Doctor?”

“Sure,” I answered. “I’m trying to decide if I’m angrier at you or at your counterpart. Damned hard choice.”

Spock narrowed his eyes at me. “How much contact have you had with my counterpart?”

“Much less than usual,” I retorted. “He’s blocking me at the moment. I can still sense him, but it’s as if there’s a wall between us.”

That was the truth. There was a bond between me and that other Spock that, as I understand it, was the result of the mind meld he forced on me. Well, not exactly forced. That’s what I keep trying to explain to my Spock and Jim. I wouldn’t take back a second of that meld. And I’m glad this link or bond or whatever it is exists—even though it was muffled right now.

Spock, of course, looked relieved to learn that his counterpart was blocking me. He doesn’t approve of this bond. In fact, he keeps coming up with more reasons that I should ignore it. That’s his new hobby.

I sighed and rolled over onto my side, facing Spock and propping myself up with my elbow. “And you’re blocking me from any research files concerning Vulcan mind melds. In short, you’re censoring what I read.”

“I have restricted those files from everyone except the captain,” Spock corrected.

“But the restriction was aimed at me—I’m the only one who wanted the damn things!”

“That is true, Doctor,” he owned, keeping his voice maddeningly calm. “I do not wish you to use the materials—however vague and speculative they may be—in an attempt to deepen your bond with my counterpart. It is unlikely that such an attempt on your part would succeed, but you might harm yourself in the effort.”

He wouldn't have those files restricted for long—and he knew that. After all, I could claim that they were medically necessary in helping me analyze Spock’s own mental health. He’d have to give them up sooner or later. Nonetheless, I didn’t remind him of that. I decided on a different tack.

“Then help me yourself,” I said. “You know how these bonds work.”

“I have offered to help you, Doctor,” he pointed out. “I am willing to teach you how to shield your thoughts from my counterpart.”

Somehow I conquered the urge to strangle the green-blooded hobgoblin. “I’m not worried about shielding my thoughts! I want—look, as far as I know, he’s not prying. But he can sense when I’m upset or worried or in pain. And sometimes he can make it so that…well, it’s as if we’re having a conversation. But it’s always on his terms.”

I paused, groping for words. “I can sense him. I mean, I can feel his presence and grasp the gist of his thoughts—but that’s all. I can’t initiate these conversations between us.”

“And that angers you?”

“It frustrates the hell out of me,” I said. “And it’s even worse when he blocks me like this. Or shields his thoughts from me or whatever the hell it is he’s doing.”

“This has happened before?” Spock asked, raising one eyebrow at me.

I nodded. “He does this periodically—for one of two reasons, I suppose.”

“Which are?”

I decided to start with the innocuous reason. “One, he’s sleeping with someone else and he thinks I’d be jealous.”

“You would not be jealous if he has taken another partner?” Spock asked, cocking his head at me.

I shook my head. “No. How could I be? We’ve never slept together. We’ve never even kissed. We both wanted each other after that mind-meld—but there was no time to act on that. I don’t have any claim on him.”

“And you do not believe he has any claim on you?” Spock pressed.

I shook my head again. “I married Natira, didn’t I?”

Spock gave me a wry look. “You divorced rather quickly.”

I smiled a little at that. “Yeah, in record time,” I admitted. “But the point is that I wouldn’t expect your counterpart to forsake all others. He’s not married to me.”

Spock furrowed his brow at that, but he did not comment. “What is the second reason?” he asked instead.

I swallowed before answering. I didn’t like to think about the second reason. “He’s up to something that he knows I won’t approve of. He’s fighting the Empire from within, Spock. And in the name of that fight—well, let’s just say that he thinks the ends justify the means. He’s not going to shrink from much. Besides, he still has to play his part and pretend to go along with the Empire’s orders. He tries to sabotage the worst of those orders but…” I let my voice trail off.

Spock didn’t say anything. After a full minute of silence I rolled my eyes at him.

“Go ahead, Spock,” I told him. “Remind me what a ruthless bastard your counterpart is. Ask me why I want to encourage the bond between us. Tell me that I must have lost my mind.”

“Are you in love with him?” Spock asked instead.

That caught me off guard—Spock almost never asks me about my emotions. Usually he’s too busy complaining about them. “I’m in love with you, you overgrown elf. You know that.”

“That would not preclude you from also falling for my counterpart,” he pointed out. “Your irrational feelings for me might, in fact, ‘bleed over’ to him.”

I grinned depsite myself. “They might at that,” I agreed. “In truth, Spock, I don’t know if I’m in love with him. I know I want him; I know I care for him—hell, I suppose I do love him a bit. He’s growing on me. But that’s not the same thing.”

Unless I was imagining things, Spock took a deep but subtle breath before he spoke up again. “Doctor, if I asked you to ignore this bond, because of your irrational feelings for me, would you?”

I stared at him. “You’re asking me to give up your counterpart out of love for you?”

He looked embarrassed by my rephrasing of his question, but he nodded regardless. “Yes.”

I sat up and reached out to touch his arm. “Are you—have you changed your mind about me?”

“No,” he answered, meeting my gaze and holding it. “I am sorry, Leonard. I cannot return your feelings.”

“Cannot or will not?” I asked, tightening my grip on him.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached out with his free hand to clasp my other wrist. “Both,” he answered. “I cannot become involved with you without sacrificing my commitment to Vulcan philosophy. And therefore I will not.”

I swore under my breath as I released him. “Spock, what the hell does your Vulcan philosophy have to do with this? Look, I give you a hard time about your logic because—well, because you need someone to challenge you on it. But I’m not asking you to renounce Surak.”

He tightened his grip on my wrist. He didn’t realize it, but he was holding me exactly the same way that his counterpart had before the mind-meld. His grip wasn’t as tight—he wasn’t trying to convince me that he was willing to break my wrist, after all—but the similarity was still eerie. Now all Spock needed was a beard…

But I didn’t complain. This was my Spock. I knew he’d never harm me—and that was more than I could say for his counterpart. Damn tight grip, though. Spock didn’t know his own strength.

“Doctor,” he said, managing to keep his voice even, “I would—I would become all too human if we were lovers. I have tried to explain that before.”

“Your counterpart doesn’t feel that way,” I shot back. “He’s not worried that this bond between us will destroy his commitment to Vulcan logic.”

Spock let go of my arm and stood up. “I would not rely too heavily on his grasp of Surak’s philosophy, Doctor,” he told me, his voice dripping with venom. “The principles of respecting and, whenever possible, preserving life seem to have eluded him.”

“That’s not fair, damn it!” I began.

But for once, Spock wasn’t interested in continuing the argument. He slammed out of my cabin—the same way I had slammed into it earlier.

I stared in his wake. I had no idea that I had gotten that far under his skin. And as I thought that over I almost smiled. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? Didn’t that mean there was hope for us? But who the hell knew with Spock? Maybe he’d take this as an excuse never to speak with me again—except in a professional capacity. God damn it.

But I shouldn’t have worried. Not five minutes later my door opened again and Spock walked back inside.

“I apologize for my outburst,” he said, his voice stiff and formal.

“I’m sorry too,” I returned, smiling at him and, hopefully, enticing him with my baby-blues. “I shouldn’t have compared you to him. Cry friends?”

I watched him visibly relax at that as he nodded. He walked back to the chair he had abandoned and sat down again. Then he reached out and took my hand in his. I started to get my hopes up—but I should have known better.

“Leonard,” he began, “am I to understand that you will not give up my counterpart?”

I sighed. “No, I’m not going to ignore this bond. He’s an aspect of you, Spock. I don’t want him out of my life. And I’m not going to turn my back on him.”

To my surprise, he accepted that. “Then it is all the more imperative that you learn to shield your thoughts from him—for his sake.”

“What do you mean?”

Spock’s eyes bored into mine. Not that I minded—hell, I wanted to lose myself in those obsidian eyes of his.

“You said that he can sense when you are in pain,” Spock said at length. “That is not quite how a bond works. He feels what you feel, Doctor. While you were recovering from the xenopolycythemia, he experienced your pain and discomfort for himself. No doubt he shielded himself to some extent—but he would have experienced the full weight of your pain first. You can protect him from that in the future.”

I swallowed at that. “If that’s the case,” I said slowly, “then couldn’t I feel his pain?”

Spock nodded. “Unless he has shielded himself from you.”

I shut my eyes. “So that’s another reason for him to set up this wall between us. He’s hurting.”

“Yes.”

I opened my eyes again and took a deep breath. “All right, Spock. You win. Teach me how to shield my thoughts.”

~

“Bones?”

That was Spock’s voice—and it was right next to my ear. But it wasn’t my Spock. He never calls me ‘Bones.’ But the other Spock does. He picked up my nickname from the mind-meld and he’s been using it ever since. It’s his way of distinguishing me from my counterpart.

I moaned softly as I felt him wrap his arms around me and slide into the bunk beside me. My God, his body was hot. Not that I was complaining, mind.

“Bones,” he repeated, nuzzling against my neck.

I knew I was dreaming. These interactions only came in dreams. But they were the product of the bond between us—not my imagination. I was sure of that.

“Stop,” I told him. I was still angry at the pointy-eared bastard. I had to remember that.

“You object?” he asked, his voice full of surprise.

I almost grinned at that. Of course he wouldn’t understand why I was upset. It seemed natural to him to call all the shots.

I opened my eyes and rolled over to face him, beard and all. Like me, he was stripped down to his blacks. That made him look damn sexy.

“Why have you been shutting me out for the past week?” I demanded. “Why the wall between us?”

He raised his eyebrows at that, somehow managing to look both amused and affronted at the same time. He wasn’t accustomed to anyone taking him to task.

“Well?” I wasn’t letting him off the hook.

He propped himself up on his elbow and cocked his head at me. “That was for your own protection, Doctor,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I survived an assassination attempt. I did not wish you to share the pain of my recovery.”

So my Spock had been correct. I caught my breath at this fresh proof of just how precarious life is in that other universe. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

“It is likely that the less you know, Doctor, the better off you are.” His voice was maddeningly even—just like my Spock’s. How do Vulcan’s manage that?

“What happened to you?” I asked, softening my voice as I reached out to touch his arm. “Were you knifed?”

He shook his head. “It was poison. Fortunately the assassin was unskilled. The dosage was insufficient.”

“What sort of pois—” I began, but he shut me up with a kiss.

It was electrifying. My whole body came alive as I tasted his lips and then opened my mouth to him. I felt my groin hardening until I was almost in pain.

God, this was just how I’d imagined it. I’d been wandering how far we could take these dreams—now it seemed that I was about to have my answer. But I pulled myself together and pushed him away. I wasn’t going to let him seduce his way out of this.

“I don’t appreciate being shut out,” I told him. “Find some way to tell me what’s going on—don’t leave me worrying about what’s happened to you on that hell ship.”

“You did not see fit to warn me of your hasty marriage or divorce,” he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes at him. “That marriage was before—before I understood that we could interact like this. You kept that little fact to yourself.”

He sighed. “That is true,” he owned. “I was—I was unsure of the wisdom of seeking you out this way, Doctor.”

I cocked my head at him. “What made you decide that it was wise?” I asked.

“I decided no such thing,” he informed me. “On the contrary, I believe this is most imprudent.”

I almost screamed in frustration. “Then why the devil are you here? And why did you contact me in the first place?”

He looked surprised by my reaction. “I contacted you initially because I sensed your pain and distress while you were recovering from the disease that killed your counterpart. I wanted to assure myself of your safety. And I am here now because you are more important to me than acting wisely.”

I stared at him for a long moment, but then I treated him to a slow smile. “That’s not very logical of you.”

“On the contrary, Doctor, it is most logical. I weighed my options carefully and decided that the time we have together is more valuable than the questionable benefits of ignoring our bond.”

“So…you don’t think I’m a danger to your Vulcan logic?”

He shook his head as he reached out to stroke my hair. “No, I do not. It is your excessive morals that concern me, Bones, not your occasional irrationality.”

“Occasional?” I asked, grinning outright this time. “My Spock thinks I’m irrational all the time.”

“You no doubt exaggerate your irrational tendencies merely to annoy him,” he pointed out. “You can be quite childish in that respect, Bones.”

Ouch. Unfortunately, he was right. All right, maybe I’d have to go a little easier on my Spock. But just a little.

“But you do not understand the things I must do to end the tyranny of the Empire,” he continued. “That is what most worries me.”

“That’s the real reason you block me out from time to time, isn’t it?” I asked. “Yes, I know you were protecting me from your pain—but you also didn’t want me to sense what you did to the would-be assassin.”

“That is correct, Doctor. However, I did not torture the man, because I knew you would not approve. So I granted him a painless death instead.”

“Tal-Shaya?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows, surprised at my knowledge of an ancient Vulcan form of execution. Although in his universe it’s probably not a thing of the past.

“Precisely,” he said.

I shivered a little and looked away. He could kill so damn easily. Not that I quite blamed him under these circumstances, but still…What the hell was I supposed to make of this man? He was honorable, he was doing his damnedest to bring the Empire down—but I didn’t want to think of half the things he was doing to achieve that goal.

He was still stroking my hair. I swallowed, knowing that I wasn't going to push him away again because of our moral differences. I wasn't even sure I had a right to judge him.

“What do you want to happen now, Bones?” he asked. His voice was soft, I noticed—as were his eyes. But the question itself contained no emotion and no pleading. Everything was up to me.

I pushed all my worries aside as I leaned into him and kissed him—a slow, lingering kiss. “I want to be inside you,” I whispered as we broke apart.

He nodded; he wanted it too. We didn’t speak another word. We were too frantic to join ourselves together. We needed to be one.

We were kissing, we were intwined, we were tugging off each other's clothes...and then he was spooning his back against me. Suddenly I couldn’t tell where my thoughts left off and his began. I felt the heat of his skin and the coolness of my own. I felt myself pumping inside him, throbbing, desperately making us into one flesh—and I felt him wanting me deeper, wanting me to explode.

Oh God! This was going to make me crazy—I was both of us. He was penetrating me just as much as I was penetrating him. How the hell would we ever separate again? I was going to lose myself to him…

I must have climaxed, but I don’t remember it. I just remember being overwhelmed by whatever the hell was happening between us. I started choking on tears and then sobbing out of control.

He turned and wrapped his arms around me and we held each other…but I was still experiencing both of our feelings at once. I could feel him holding me—but I could also feel how he felt with my arms around him.

And then that double-knowledge was gone. I could still sense him and the gist of his thoughts, but I wasn’t inside his skin. And that was ok with me, I told myself as I tried to steady my breaths. I wasn’t ready to lose myself that way.

“I am sorry, Doctor,” he whispered. “It would seem that some shielding, at least, is necessary—neither of us is prepared…”

He let his voice trail off, but it didn’t matter. I just nodded numbly. I was exhausted and spent and flat and I had no more emotions to feed into us. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his chest, allowing him to stroke my hair and my back.

A long while had passed by the time I opened my eyes again. I was awake now, I realized—this wasn’t a dream any more. But that didn’t make sense. I was still leaning against him. He still had his arms around me.

And then it dawned on me. I caught my breath as I broke apart from him. It was my Spock that was holding me, not the Spock from the mirror universe. We were in his cabin—on his bunk.

We were both dressed. I noticed that right away. We weren’t wearing our uniform shirts, but we still had our blacks on. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I hadn’t stripped myself naked in front of him.

“What the hell am I doing in here?” I demanded.

“You were here for lessons on shielding your thoughts from my counterpart,” Spock answered calmly. “But judging by your dream, the lessons have yet to sink in.”

I managed a small smile at that. “Yeah—it’s this damn thick skull of mine. Don’t worry, Spock. I’ll get the hang of it eventually. How’d I end up in your bunk?”

“You fell asleep during the meditation. I moved you here to make you more comfortable.”

I nodded. “Thank you. And sorry—Jesus Christ, I was sobbing in your arms, wasn’t I? God, Spock, I don’t know what to say. I—I apologize.”

He hesitated before answering. “You have no need to apologize, Doctor,” he assured me. “The bond that you share with my counterpart—it is not, as I understand it, an easy thing to control. You will both need to learn to regulate how much of yourselves you share with the other.”

Especially during sex or sexual dreams. Spock didn’t say that out loud—but he didn’t have to. I knew he knew just what I’d been dreaming about. And he knew that I knew that he knew.

I took a deep breath. “This isn’t fair to you,” I said, trying to imagine what he must have felt when I was sobbing against him. “This isn’t your problem.”

“It is very much my problem,” he corrected. “He is my counterpart—some aspect of myself. And you are my friend.”

“He may be an aspect of you, but that doesn’t make you responsible for this crazy relationship between me and him,” I pointed out. “I won’t blame you for washing your hands of this.”

Spock cocked his head at me. “Washing my hands, doctor? This is not a sanitary issue.”

I rolled my eyes. I’m pretty sure he said that just to bring a smile to my lips. And, as much as it pains me to admit this, it worked. “You can leave me to my own devices,” I explained, playing along.

“Doctor, you would not leave me to my own devices, were our circumstances reversed.”

“No,” I agreed, smiling fondly at him. “I wouldn’t.” I paused and let myself collapse back onto his bunk. “Mind if I catch some sleep in here?”

He shook his head, looking surprised that I had bothered to ask. “You are welcome here,” he said, keeping his seat on the edge of the bunk.

I grinned at his formality—especially given the circumstances. But I just nodded as I made myself comfortable. It was damned hot in here, but I didn’t mind. It felt right somehow.

“We’ve turned a corner, haven’t we?” I said. “Your counterpart and me, I mean. We can’t ignore this bond now, Spock—I don’t think that’s even an option anymore.”

“Given the apparent depth of the bond, that is a reasonable conclusion,” Spock agreed.

“He knows me pretty damn well,” I continued. “He thinks that I, ah, exaggerate my irrational qualities simply to annoy you.”

Spock nodded. “You can be quite childish in that respect, Doctor.”

I grinned again. “That’s just what he said. I’ll, uh, try to go a bit easier on you. But my teasing—that’s not what prevented us from becoming lovers, is it? You and me, I mean.”

“No,” he assured me. “It is not. I—” he broke off suddenly. If I didn’t know better, I would swear he was blushing.

But he managed to get hold of himself and speak in that same steady, even voice again. “Ultimately, I seek not merely to master my emotions, but to eliminate them,” he explained. “That is a goal which you would neither understand nor respect. There is a difficult ritual on Vulcan—but the details are not, at present, important.”

I stared at him as I took that in—and somehow I managed to keep my mouth from dropping open. Kolinahr: that was the name of the ritual he sought. The word didn’t just slip into my mind; I knew it. I shivered a little at that, remembering what Spock’s counterpart had said when he first melded with me: “I know what you know.”

Well, apparently I had some of his knowledge now too. And so I had a vague idea of what this ‘Kolinahr’ was all about: a near impossible ritual that only elite students of Vulcan logic even attempted. God damn it! Spock was so insecure about his human half that he was determined to turn himself into Super-Vulcan.

Kolinahr would be the worst thing possible for Spock. He couldn’t get rid of his emotions without destroying himself. Master them, yes. Destroy them, no.

Great—just great. I had one Spock on my hands with severe emotional issues and another one with severe moral issues. Wasn’t there a well-integrated Spock waiting somewhere out there for me?

Of course, I wasn’t all that well-integrated, I reminded myself. My whirlwind marriage to Natira proved that. It’s hard to find someone who’s got their act together when you’re a basket case yourself.

I sighed. I wished I could explain to Spock that attempting to eliminate his emotions was the worst mistake he could make—even worse than the way he denies them now. But he couldn’t hear that from me. He’d have to find out for himself.

“Spock,” I managed, “if this—this ritual blows up in your face, will you let me help you pick up the pieces?”

“It will not ‘blow up in my face,’ Doctor. You needn’t concern yourself.”

“But if it does?” I persisted.

His eyes softened as he reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You need your rest, Leonard. And then we will return to your lessons. Do not concern yourself with my emotions—or my determination to eliminate them. I understand what I’m doing.”

Sure you do, I thought to myself as I closed my eyes and rolled over on my side. In a pig’s eye.

~The End~