Summary: The events of "The Empath" happen in the alternate timeline BEFORE McCoy is cured of xenopolycythemia. Major McCoy whump! Kirk / Spock / Bones friendship. Team Triumvirate. Angst, drama, tragedy, hurt / comfort.

Author's Note: This story assumes that the reader has seen the episode, and it re-tells the major plot points without showing every moment or repeating the dialogue word-by-word.

Hurt and Comfort in Starfleet

An Anthology of "Star Trek" Stories

PenPatronus

Story #1

The Prime Ingredient, Part 1

In the days that followed, Ambassador Spock regretted his decision to ignore the message from the Enterprise in favor of his morning routine. He began the day like every other since settling on New Vulcan. He stretched, dressed, ate a lite breakfast and meditated. A curious sensation interrupted his second hour of meditation. Several minutes passed before he categorized the sensation as emotional pain and identified its source as external to himself. Through his telepathic faculties, whether on purpose or not, someone precious to him communicated distress.

Spock opened his eyes and lowered his intertwined fingers. "Computer," he called as he rose to his bare feet and crossed to his desk. "Display new message."

Jim Kirk's young face appeared on the small view screen attached to the white stone wall. "Spock." The captain greeted him with a curt nod and a grim smile. "I know you've vowed to leave us to our destinies but I'm hoping this is one of those times you might make an exception. I need your help. Bones needs your help."

Spock leaned forward in his chair. Premature crow's feet had bloomed from the corners of Jim's bright blue eyes. He'd had aged much during the first half of his first five-year mission. The man was barely in his thirties but looked like he would turn 50 in a week.

"McCoy is sick." Water appeared in Jim's eyes. "Really sick. Xenopolycythemia. He has a year to live—just told me about it today. Spock I'm—I'm devastated. There's no cure, at least not one that we know of. I thought that maybe you…" Jim gulped and blinked away the tears. "Is this how it happens? Is this how I lose him?" Jim asked the question so quietly that Spock wondered who he was really talking to. "Maybe it is. Maybe this is how Bones dies but…" Kirk sighed. He rubbed his eyes with trembling fingers. "I can't do this without him. Some days I only have the courage to command this starship because Spock and McCoy are with me."

Affection for both Kirk and McCoy clogged Spock's throat. "It will be all right, Jim," Spock told the deaf image of his friend. "You will find Yonada. You will find the cure soon."

On the screen, the voice of Uhura summoned Kirk to the bridge. "I'm on my way, Lieutenant," he told her before returning to his attention to Spock. "I have to go. It's the middle of the night on New Vulcan so I might be off the ship by the time you get this message. We're evacuating a research team in the Minara system. Hope to hear from you soon, Spock. Kirk out."

Jim's face disappeared but Spock continued to stare at the screen. "Minara," he murmured. This time the emotional distress he felt was clearly his own. Distress triggered by that one word. Memory recall had slowed in his old age, so it took the Vulcan an entire 4.6 seconds to recall the Minara mission. The dead scientists, the underground prison, the mute empath that McCoy named Gem…

"Computer, priority one call to the Enterprise," Spock ordered. Blinking lights warned him that the ship was almost out of range. A minute later the blurry, pixelated image of the Enterprise bridge appeared.

"Mr. Spock!" gasped a grinning Montgomery Scott from the captain's chair. "Isn't this a pleasant surprise! I'm afraid your doppelganger isn't here—"

"Mr. Scott," Spock all but barked, "status, please."

"Um…" Scotty scratched the back of his head with both hands. "With all due respect, Sir, I'm not sure you're authorized to hear classified intel about—"

"Jim informed me that the Enterprise was going to Minara. Is that your current location?"

"Aye, but—"

"Has the landing party disembarked?"

"Aye. The captain, Commander Spock, and Doctor McCoy are on the surface, but—"

"Retrieve them immediately, Mr. Scott."

"What?" Scotty shared a doubtful look with Uhura. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Mr. Scott, please listen, I beg of you. Beam the landing party back to the ship right now."

"I—I can't," Scotty sputtered. "There's a hell of a solar storm in this system, Sir. Our instruments won't work properly if we get too close to the radiation."

Spock arranged his fingers in a steeple. With his elbows on the desk and his nose pressed close to the screen, only his blazing eyes were visible to Scotty and the crew. "Mr. Scott, you must try. Kirk, McCoy and Spock are being held prisoner in an underground chamber by beings called Vians. If you do not save them before the Vians begin their tortures, McCoy will surely die."

"What?" Sulu gasped.

Uhura got to her feet. "Torture?"

"Dr. McCoy has not yet informed you that he grievously ill," Spock explained. "In my timeline he was cured before the Minara mission. If he undergoes the same events in his weakened condition, he will be lost before Gem or anyone else can help him."

"Bloody—" Scotty began.

"I will procure a vessel and intercept the Enterprise as quickly as possible. I urge you again: hurry." Spock broke the connection as Scotty began to swear in earnest.

The dizzy spell sent the room spinning in one direction and Leonard McCoy's head in the opposite. He spotted the orange color of the Vians' winged bench and stumbled towards it. Spock called his name but McCoy couldn't risk breaking his concentration to reply. At some point he collapsed to his knees. Callous hands snatched his medical tricorder away. The instrument's whirling chirps preceded a hitched breath. "Doctor, your vital signs are highly irregular," Spock said. "This is exceptionally inconvenient."

"I'm terribly sorry, Spock," McCoy grunted as he rolled his eyes. "Anybody ever mention you have a lousy bedside manner?"

"The captain has been missing for an hour and we have yet to escape."

"And you're worried. I know." McCoy gathered his strength and braced one boot beneath him.

Spock pursed his lips and drew a breath slowly into and out of his nostrils. "As you well know, Vulcans are fully capable of mastering anxiety—"

"Spock…" McCoy waved his hand like he was shooing away a housefly. "I've known you long enough to recognize the difference between mastering anxiety and masking it. You, my friend, for all your abilities, are incapable of either when Jim's life is in danger. One of these days you've got to let me treat your PTSD." McCoy tried and failed to get his other leg beneath him. His ankle rolled. Mute drums pounded behind his eyes. Spock's grip around his forearm felt abnormally hot.

More chirps as the tricorder scanned again. The Vulcan's face flexed into one solid frown. "Dr. McCoy, since you have sustained no injury here and have contracted no disease, I can only conclude that you were unfit for duty before our party landed."

"I'm just tired, Spock," McCoy sighed. "Now help me up, will you?"

Spock complied, hefting Bones to his feet, but didn't drop the subject. "Is Captain Kirk aware that you are ill?"

"I'm not—"

"The readings do not lie, Doctor. And you cannot lie to me."

Bones cocked his chin. "Oh, really?"

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "As you pointed out, we have known one another for a significant amount of time."

McCoy squinted, studying his friend's eyes. "I didn't want you to know," he said after a long minute. "I didn't want anyone but Jim to know until Starfleet assigned the Enterprise a new CMO—until I was due to leave. I didn't want to burden you. Any of you."

"Doctor, I really must continue my search for an exit so that we can assist Captain Kirk. Please be succinct."

McCoy's ears and cheeks reddened. "Forgive me," he spat, his words soaked in sarcasm. "You want succinct? I'll give you succinct: I have xenopolycythemia and I'll be dead in a year. How's that for succinct, huh?"

To McCoy's surprise, Spock recoiled as if struck across the cheek. He froze, then. Stood completely still with rigid arms and legs. "You are dying?" he whispered. "That…That is…"

"Inconvenient?" McCoy mocked.

"No. Yes," Spock quickly redacted. The Vulcan cleared his throat and stared down at his boots. "Yes, adjusting to a new Chief Medical Officer will require time and energy I have not yet rationed and in that way, yes, your death will be problematic."

"Oh, for God's sake…" McCoy rubbed both eyes with the heels of his hands. "Worst bedside manner in the fleet…"

A beat of silence, and then:

"I will be severely cognizant of your absence."

Spock said the words so fast that McCoy almost missed them. It took him several moments to comprehend the meaning. Finally, he sputtered, "You mean—you mean you'll miss me?"

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but right then a light flashed through the room.

To Be Continued