Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.
Warnings: language and violence.
Reviews are always welcome and appreciated

The Doppelganger Initiative

A small frown crests McCoy's face as he squints at the PADD in his hand. The results of his latest test had proven unfruitful leading to yet another dead end in his current research venture. He flops down onto his living room chair, tossing the PADD down on the end table and reaching for his drink. The harsh bite of the alien alcohol shocks him and he stares at the glass as though it has betrayed him; it's hardly the brandy he had been dreaming about while hunched over his scanner all day in the lab. He looks over towards the counter and realizes he had been so absorbed in reading, his hand had grabbed the bottle Scotty had left a couple of nights ago, something he'd won at a poker game with members of the most recent trading vessel to dock at Yorktown.

Leonard's mood darkens a little more as he mentally counts the steps it will take to rectify his mistake, deciding that he is too exhausted to engage in the venture and the disposal of alcohol, no matter how heinous, is still a crime. He resolves himself to suffer through the glass and watch the rain as it streaks down the large window in his living room. Why a self contained station needs to have scheduled rain days is beyond him. Arguments that it makes Yorktown feel more like a planet and thus home aside, rain is always rather depressing and dreary. He leaves the lights off and lets the gentle patter sooth out the tension that has been building in his shoulders.

God help him, he's starting to miss the Enterprise. The people and maybe the ship itself, but definitely not traipsing around the galaxy, he mentally corrects himself. Being confined to a floating tin can means that no matter how busy you get, you still find time to socialize with your friends and coworkers; there is no escaping the crew on a star ship, same faces day in and day out. Here it's easy to get lost in the crowd and be consumed by opportunities and amenities only previously available on shore leave. With such a lengthy wait time until the new Enterprise is ready to head out into the vastness of space, the crew has been given assignments around the station to keep busy and sharp. For many it means family is within arm's reach and the social circles that didn't consist of fellow crewmen are easy to fall into.

For the first month the crew had banded together like the tight knit group they are, trauma holding them together like glue, but slowly they began to branch out, get busy. The senior staff made an effort to at least take a meal together ever few days but that eventually turned into once a week, then twice a month, once a month and now eight months into their thirteen month wait, McCoy can't remember the last time he's actually laid eyes on the senior staff. The only reason he knew they haven't finished the ship and left without him is the weekly 'meeting' they have which is nothing more than open comm. between the senior staff in which Kirk, Spock and Scotty give an update on the status of the new ship and review crew assignment at Yorktown.

He is just going to have to play dirty, McCoy decides, picking up his pad and scheduling physicals for the senior staff. "Let's see Jim cancel that," he mutters dropping the PADD back on the table. He knows his friend isn't intentionally blowing him off, Captain, with or without an actual ship, means he has a lot of responsibilities, now adding to that the rebuilding of the Enterprise and Kirk has cancelled their plans the last twelve times; tonight seems to be included. Usually Jim sends a message that he isn't going to make it but tonight he seems to be leaving Leonard hanging. Jabbing a few hypos in Jim's neck during his physical will probably make McCoy fell better about this latest trespass.

The chirp of door startles McCoy; the hypnotic flow of the rain must have caused Leonard to doze off. He sets his glass down, stretching the kinks out of his back as he glances at the clock. It is rather late for general visitors, meaning Kirk must have realized his mistake and come to grovel at Leonard's feet for forgetting their plans for a nightcap. He shuffles towards the door punching the controls a little harder than necessary when he arrives.

"Better late than never, I suppose," starts McCoy, his rant dying as he glances into the face of the Vulcan fist officer and not his tardy captain.

"Spock? I was expecting Jim. What are you doing here?" asks Leonard, confused. Things have thawed between the two men over the years warming up to a pleasant friendship after Altamid, though a visit at such a late hour without Kirk in the mix never happens. It's surprising but not entirely unwelcome after his recent isolation.

"Doctor, I have a matter of vital importance that requires your assistance," states Spock pushing past a dumbfounded looking McCoy.

Leonard's brain finally latches onto the unexpected turn of events, closing the door before turning towards Spock. Whatever has brought the Vulcan here must be important, Jim or Uhura are usually Spock's go to when he has a problem that isn't strictly medical based. Tilting his head to the side he takes a long look at his guest. It has been awhile since he actually saw Spock making his appearance somewhat surprising. It's not a drastic change, certainly nothing indicating a personal crisis brought on by their recent ordeal on Altamid, but seeing Spock with something McCoy would have assumed he'd find unpractical is kind of funny. "What's with the beard?" asks McCoy with a small chuckle as he passes by Spock to pour himself a drink. Any problem the Vulcan has at this at hour that he didn't summon McCoy about over official channels is going to likely require a drink. Just hearing the story behind Spock's new aesthetic is going to require the tranquil affect of liquor.

Spock turns sharply as the doctor walks past, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and slamming him face first into the wall. The decanters, bottles and glasses on the table clink and rattle at the force. Spock leans against McCoy's back, his elbow presses firmly against the doctor's spine making it impossible for him to move.

Leonard struggles, despite the slight daze hitting the wall has caused, in a futile effort to shake off his captor. The whole scenario is ridiculous and unfathomable; Spock isn't openly violent with anyone in general but certainly not without reason. Alarm begins to sets in as Spock refuses to release him and McCoy knows, even on his best day when he isn't caught off guard Spock can best him in a physical altercation hands down. His communicator is sitting on the kitchen counter, too far away for him to get even if he manages to slip from Spock's grip. Anger begins to burn in Leonard as he shouts, "What the hell are you doing, Spock? What's gotten in to..."

The words cease as Spock places his hand on McCoy's shoulder and firmly and decisively pinches. The doctor goes limp, his dead weight entirely supported by Spock's grip. "I do not have time to discuss this with you, Doctor." Manoeuvring the unconscious form, the Vulcan heaves him over his shoulder and heads towards the door. He stops briefly as he catches his reflection in the mirror and his eyes trace over the doctor's slumped body. There's a brief hesitation but Spock remembers why he's here and taps the access panel to open the door. He will see this through; the doctor is just an unfortunate victim of circumstance. It' the only way to achieve his goal; the doctor's fate is unavoidable.