Darkness and Silence by Liederlady

Author: Liederlady

Title: Darkness and Silence

Date: May 29, 2009

Characters: ST XI (AOS) Kirk, Spock and McCoy

Rating: G, friendship fic

Word count: 2,988

Challenge: Rose’s “In Doctor McCoy’s Office” challenge to illustrate Bones’ clinical psychiatry expertise while helping (at least) one of the crew members.


Summary: Bones understands that, very often, the most effective emotional healing occurs when offering another person succor. He also understands the necessity for the occasional application of guile.

~~~~~~~~~

Darkness and Silence


Spock!” McCoy called out as the Vulcan first officer exited the turbolift on deck five.


Spock turned and waited for McCoy to catch up to him.


“Do you have a minute to talk?”


“Yes. I can spare one minute of the nine point three seven minutes remaining before I report for duty, doctor,” Spock answered.


McCoy scowled at the first officer’s preciseness.

“Yeah. Well, it was just an expression. Can we take this to my office?”


McCoy pegged the expression Spock wore as suspicious. Naturally, the Vulcan would deny it.


Spock nodded and both men took the turbolift to McCoy’s office on deck six.


“Have a seat Spock. Drink?” McCoy asked, indicating a chair and moving to the small compartment that housed his mini-bar.


“Thank you, no,” Spock replied. Apparently, his answer covered both invitations as he remained standing ramrod straight, hands behind his back.


McCoy shrugged and poured himself a shot glass of bourbon before taking his seat. As he took a sip, he was acutely aware of the Vulcan’s dark eyes on him.


After a moment, Spock said, “Doctor, we have used forty-one seconds of your minute.”


McCoy shook his head and took another sip. “Like I said, just an expression. This may take your full nine-and-a-half minutes, Spock.”


“Eight point five six minutes now remain, doctor,” Spock said without a trace of humor.


“Okay, okay,” McCoy said. “I’ll get to the point.”


“That would be advantageous,” Spock said.


“I need your help with something,” McCoy admitted.


“Indeed,” Spock replied.


“It’s about Jim. I’m worried about him,” McCoy said, his brows knit in concern.


“If this is in regard to the captain’s health surely that is your--,” Spock began.


“He’s exhausted, he’s dropped five pounds,” McCoy interrupted. “Hasn’t been sleeping more than an hour or two a night for weeks. What sleep he does get is filled with nightmares. It’s affecting his performance. It was that damned Vulcan mind meld with Spo-- with your counterpart. Jim’s suffering post-traumatic stress syndrome because of it.”


“From a mind meld?” Spock asked dubiously.


“From the emotional upheaval Ambassador Spock was going through at the time,” McCoy clarified. “I noticed it in all of the surviving Vulcans we took aboard. You people actually felt the deaths of your … your fellow Vulcans.”


McCoy’s voice softened considerably at the last.


Spock’s gaze flicked down to the toes of his boots.


“And Jim shared that upheaval, Spock. It’s twisting his insides apart. And triggered his own unresolved grief for his father,” McCoy said sadly, shaking his head.


A long silence ensued. A silence, Spock noted, of forty-two seconds.


“I need your help, Spock. Jim needs your help,” McCoy said.


The Vulcan first officer had not known McCoy long. They had shared brief interactions during the crisis with Nero. However, he and the doctor had worked closely during the repairs to Enterprise’s sickbay and science labs. Spock found the doctor’s emotional outbursts to be intensely illogical. At first, he also believed them to be counterproductive.


However, to Spock’s consternation, McCoy’s emotionalism spurred his staff’s efficiency and dedication to duty. More than once, Spock was present as McCoy imperiously strode through through a ward or lab, leaving criticism, barked orders, sarcastic guidance and, frequently, grudging praise in his wake. Being Vulcan, Spock could not help overhearing the murmured reactions once McCoy had passed. Typically, one or two people would grumble only to be reprimanded by the vast majority.


Admiration abounded for the doctor’s triage and emergency instincts in the wake of Nero’s attack. His clinical ability was universally judged exceptional. Others lauded the man’s ability to calm shattered and scattered souls, including those of the surviving medical and paramedical staff, with a quiet word, a lingering touch or a warm glance.


And the esteem from those who witnessed McCoy’s surgical skill bordered on reverence.


The repairs to sickbay were completed a week in advance of the deadline. McCoy gathered everyone responsible and ordered them to look around at what they had accomplished. He quietly said he was looking forward with great pride to serving with them then brusquely told them to “get the hell back to work already.”


Spock was still regarding his boots when he finally replied to McCoy’s request for assistance.


“I am at a loss to understand how I may help, Doctor McCoy. This is your field of expertise, is it not?”


McCoy nodded. “Yeah. And that’s how Jim will see it. Me ‘treating’ him. He’s already balked. I had to pull rank just to get him to admit to the effects of the mind meld. I didn’t like doing that.”


“You have the authority,” Spock said.


“The answer to this isn’t authority, Spock, but friendship and support. It’s about getting Jim to confront the trauma,” McCoy explained.


Spock finally glanced over at McCoy. What he saw etched in the doctor’s face prompted an unanticipated memory of his mother. She would wear that same expression of concern, even pain, each time he was bullied by the other Vulcan children. Even when Spock grew old enough to master his emotions sufficiently to hide the truth she somehow knew there had been another incident.


“You are his friend, doctor,” Spock answered, summoning c’thia to submerge the memory of his mother to where it could do no harm.


McCoy nodded again. “Damned right. But I can’t fathom the depth of despair that Jim’s experiencing, Spock. You can. If Ambassador Spock was aboard, I’d be asking him for help.”


“Again, I am still at a loss as to how you believe I may help,” Spock repeated stiffly, taking offense at McCoy’s erroneous assumption that he suffered despair.


Spock accepted the reality of the loss of Vulcan and of his mother. He had acted logically after both events, other than his deplorable loss of control in response to Kirk’s baiting. Spock spent hours of intense meditation to ensure such a failure would never again occur.


As he considered McCoy’s words, Spock was suddenly horrified that the doctor expected him to mind meld with the captain and excise the painful memories. The young commander experienced a sudden wave of nausea. Such an act would violate every Vulcan tenet of privacy and ethics.


“Talk to Jim. Just talk. You know strategy and tactics as well as he does. Use that ability to steer the conversation,” McCoy advised. “If anyone can out-maneuver our headstrong captain, you can.”


Spock raised a dubious eyebrow at that.


“Look, I know you’re due on duty. Will you please just think about it?” McCoy asked.


Spock nodded fractionally then turned and headed for the bridge.

~~~~~~~~~~

That same day over lunch in his quarters with the captain, McCoy brought up the subject of personnel evaluations.


“There’s one senior officer in particular who’s showing signs of stress. Enough stress to create a minor drop in efficiency. But what’s more troubling are the physical manifestations,” McCoy said.


“Oh? What are they?”


“Increase in blood pressure, intervals of irregular heart rhythm, marked decrease in appetite, abnormal temperature readings, other metabolic rates all over the scale.” McCoy’s brows dipped closer to each other as he ticked off the irregular readings.


Jim Kirk had thought his friend had invited him to lunch to relax. Now he realized there was an ulterior motive, and an important one at that. He glanced over at the PADD that lay on McCoy’s tray.


“Sounds serious. Who is it?” Jim asked, finishing his sandwich.


“Commander Spock,” McCoy replied, tucking back into his salad.


Jim froze in mid-chew. When he realized his mouth was open and full of mushed sandwich, he swallowed.


“Spock?” He reached for his water glass, suddenly wishing it was a shot of bourbon.


McCoy nodded.


“Do you know what’s wrong?” Jim said, instantly concerned. Vulcans always seem so indestructible.


“I don’t need my Ph.D in psychiatry to venture a diagnosis.”


“What then?”


“Jim, you’re probably better aware than anyone on this ship of what Spock must be going through. The other day you admitted that your mind meld with Ambassador Spock … well, leaked a hell of a lot of despair.”


Jim Kirk slumped back in his chair.


“Are you telling me Spock is … depressed?”


“Vulcans may not suffer post-traumatic stress disorder as frequently as we do, Jim, but that doesn’t mean they’re immune. Hell, they have emotions, but keep them bottled up like a capped volcano. Forget about Spock being half human. Even if he were one thousand percent Vulcan, he’d be dealing with intense anguish. You said it yourself. No matter where they were, every surviving Vulcan felt the rest of their race die. I can’t imagine the overwhelming grief of losing everything you knew as home.”


Kirk shuddered as the memory of Ambassador Spock’s desolation again inundated him.


“How can we help?” Kirk asked, instantly straightening and leaning earnestly across the table.


McCoy smiled inwardly.


“He’s got to talk about what he’s feeling Jim. Trick is how to get a damned repressed Vulcan to talk about something he claims not to have?”


“We’ll have to maneuver him into it,” Kirk said.


“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t go about maneuvering the man the way you did the last time, Jim. Spock’s father isn’t around to stop him from snapping your neck,” McCoy chided.


Kirk bristled. “That’s nothing to joke about, Bones. I hated doing that to him after what he’d been through. It was the only way, the only way to follow Ambassador Spo--”


McCoy reached a hand out to his friend’s arm.


“I know that Jim. I wasn’t joking. Problem is ever since losing it when you taunted him he’s been acting uber-Vulcan.


“Denial of grief is a very dark place, Jim. Perhaps if he thought he was helping someone else deal with similar pain, he might just be able to give voice to his own. Or at the very least, privately acknowledge it,” McCoy ventured. “Misery does love company.”


Kirk stood up suddenly, his brows drawn down as he gazed at his friend.


“Are you trying to head shrink me, Bones?”


McCoy kept his seat and gazed up at his perceptive friend with what he hoped was an appropriately icy stare.


“It’s not like yours couldn’t benefit from it sometimes, captain. And if you can put aside your penchant for self-absorption long enough, we weren’t talking about you. We were talking about our first officer. Your sleep patterns may be disrupted by emotional spillover from the Ambassador, but you’re not the one who lost your home world and your mother in the same instant, are you?” McCoy growled.


Jim Kirk flinched as though physically stricken. Then he retook his seat.


“Sorry Jim. I didn’t mean that to sound so harsh. I know what you’re experiencing is disturbing, but it’s only a fraction of the grief Spock must feel. If anyone on this ship can relate to him, you can. You feel what the Ambassador felt. You understand not just the scope of the loss that the rest of us can, but the profound physical and psychic pain that every Vulcan must be suffering,” McCoy said.


Kirk glanced up at his friend and McCoy couldn’t help noticing the uncharacteristic shimmer diluting the usually intense blue gaze. The young captain nodded then stood slowly and turned away to regain his composure.


“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jim said. “Man, but I don’t have a clue how to open such a conversation.”


“Maybe just tell Spock what you told me the other day. About your sleeplessness. About what you still feel from the meld,” McCoy offered.


Kirk whipped around.


“Bones, I can’t do that! The Vulcans are-- well, their mind meld is an intensely private thing. I just can’t start up a conversation about it like ‘Well, hey there Spock, you know that mind meld I had with your older self? Well, man I got a serious dose of emotional transference because your older self isn’t afraid to admit he’s in agony.’ I mean, come on, Bones!” Kirk blurted out in exasperation.


McCoy noticed Jim’s eyes were brimming once more. He didn’t look away. And, this time, neither did Jim.


“Jim, this won’t be easy. You’re an arrogant, sarcastic sonofabitch and you have your own emotional baggage to deal with. We can have future arguments on that front, but there’s something else at stake right now.


“You are the captain of this ship. And one of your people is in trouble. I’m not preaching to you. I’m not going to tell you how to help Spock. All I’m telling you is that it’s your responsibility to try. If he rejects you, there’s not much you can do short of ordering him to seek professional help. Hell, I can do that, but I doubt it would hold much sway. You’re his commanding officer.”


Kirk winced before saying, “Who was forced on him.”


“Doesn’t make a difference to a Vulcan. Duty’s part of their skin. Spock follows your orders. When he disagrees with them, he tells you but still follows them. That’s his job and, so far, he’s done it well.


“If he can’t work through this, if he stays trapped in that silence, do you really want to be forced to search for a new first officer?” McCoy asked harshly.


Kirk straightened to attention and narrowed his eyes. And McCoy breathed a silent sigh of relief. He knew that look.


“No,” was all Kirk said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four weeks later, Leonard McCoy was up late, nursing a carafe of strong coffee while reviewing the latest crew health and efficiency reports. He was down to his last two: captain and first officer.


The captain’s serotonin levels were rising to optimal ranges thanks to an improved sleep cycle. He’d gained seven pounds. His efficiency ratings were also optimal. In fact, they surpassed those from his final months as a Starfleet cadet.


McCoy smiled wearily and rubbed his eyes before touching stylus to PADD to bring up the next report.


First Officer Spock: Blood pressure, optimal. Heart rate, optimal. Appetite, normal. All metabolic data in optimal ranges. Efficiency rating: Off the scale.


“Back to annoyingly perfect,” McCoy growled happily.


He re-coded the security lock on the PADD before rising to retire.


It had been a hell of a day. They’d almost lost Jim when the Metrons forced him to fight a reptilian opponent called a Gorn—a fight to the death.


In Jim’s absence Spock was in command, but there was little he or anyone else could do but watch the combatants once the Metrons informed the crew Kirk was losing.


McCoy stood next to the command chair the entire time and could almost feel the Vulcan chafing as the physically stronger Gorn battered Jim. Once, Bones heard Spock mutter something in Vulcan.


McCoy was no expert on hand-to-hand combat, but he was well aware that Jim’s initial survival was thanks in no small part to the Vulcan Suus Mahna disciplines he learned from Spock over the past month.


Prior to issuing the invitation to the captain, Spock had elicited McCoy’s advice about the lessons. Bones had been forced to turn away when he said they might indeed be an excellent stress reducer.


The whole ship had been abuzz about Suus Mahna and Spock’s evident proficiency. Many crew members turned out to watch the captain and first officer engage. The single time McCoy snuck into the crowded gym to observe, Spock threw Jim time after time, demonstrating one move after another with blinding efficiency.


After each throw, Jim would pop up with an expression of mixed admiration and determination, intent on mastering at least one of the moves. Before McCoy left, he saw the results of both Spock’s instructive capacity and Jim’s aptitude when Kirk jerked the Vulcan over his hip and slammed him into the mat. Kirk straightened wearing one of the widest grins McCoy had ever seen. But what was even more satisfying was the double eyebrow lift Spock offered in return—unrestrained surprise.


When the captain laughed and stretched out a hand to his first officer, the Vulcan almost smiled.


The crisis with the Gorn ended when Jim’s wits defeated the reptilian opponent and the Metrons were won over by Kirk’s refusal to kill. When Jim reappeared on the bridge, both McCoy and Spock swallowed for what seemed like the first time in hours and both officers promptly escorted their protesting captain to sickbay.


Once the exhausted McCoy reached his quarters, he encountered the first officer.


“Can’t sleep, Spock?”


The Vulcan indicated the negative. “The captain and I were assessing the day’s events doctor,” he explained.


“Oh, right,” McCoy replied.


He’d heard about the evening discussions from Jim. During one, Kirk broke the ice with Spock about the mind meld and the Vulcan reluctantly acknowledged his people’s psychic trauma.


“Doctor, may I venture a personal query?”


McCoy nodded.


“Do humans not grieve over the deaths of family members?” Spock said.


“Not always,” McCoy answered. “Depends.”


Spock’s left eyebrow shot up. McCoy had an idea where this was going.


“Upon what criteria does it depend?” Spock pressed.


“Is this about Jim’s father?” McCoy asked. Spock’s gaze flicked away as he nodded.


“Jim never knew his father. All I ever heard him admit to knowing was what he described as the ‘hero stuff,’” McCoy explained.


Spock was clearly mystified. “Would not his father’s irrefutable heroism confer even greater cause to merit honorable remembrance?” he asked.


“Yes.”


McCoy suspected Jim’s stepfather had persistently belittled the memory of George Kirk, among other things. But if Jim was to ever confirm McCoy’s suspicion, Spock would be the best person to coax such an admission.


Bones had hoped that might happen after Jim managed to elicit Spock’s acknowledgment of bereavement over his mother’s death.


‘In time,’ McCoy thought.


“Spock, can we discuss this tomorrow? I’d sure hate to knock you over by falling asleep standing up,” McCoy said wearily.


“Of course. Good night, doctor.”


“Night Spock.”

~The End~