Title:  AFTER THE CREDITS:  This Side of Paradise

Author:  Ster Julie

Codes:  TOS; S/Mc (unrequited); Spiced Peaches

Rating:  PG

Summary:  McCoy examines Spock after their experiences at Omicron Ceti III.  False assumptions leave both men wanting.

A/N:  Both parts of this story are written first person point of view.  No names are given, but it is easy to discern who is who.

—ooOoo—

Part 1:  It Is You

He found me in the forward observation lounge.

I didn’t look up at him as he placed some heavy object at my feet.  I clutched my meditation robe more tightly and averted my face.  I hadn’t wanted anyone to see my weakness.

I half expected him to launch into one of his ubiquitous tirades, but he just quietly waited at my knee.

“Missin’ Leila, eh?” he half-asked at last.

I snapped my gaze to him in surprise.  I had not expected such a fallacious statement.

“­No,” I stated emphatically.  “She deliberately infected me,” I accused.

“But you two seemed so … cozy.”

I shook my head.  “It was all the spores doing,” I corrected, “and she was … at hand.”

“You mean, you could have paired up with … anybody?”

I shrugged in response.

He sighed.

“You know, we are all suffering from some sort of emotional, moral hangover, for want of a better word.  No one will judge you, believe me.  We all had … lapses.”

It was my turn to sigh.

“Leila had tried to seduce me once before,” I admitted, “despite my protestations that I have … someone waiting for me at home.” 

It wasn’t quite a lie.

“You mean you’re married?”

I shook my head and gave the easy answer.  “Engaged.”

“Oh.”

What a curious response, I thought.

“Don’t feel guilty,” he counseled at last.  “We were under alien influence, like puppets.”  He picked up his scanner and tricorder.  “You’re the last to be examined.  May I?”

I sat up for the exam.  “You have never asked my permission before,” I told him as he activated the portable scanner with a flick of the switch.  I finally noticed the heavy device.  “Did you carry that all the way here from Sickbay?” I asked.

“No,” he answered as he passed the scanner over me and scowled at the results.  “I used a cart.”

I remained silent so he could concentrate on the examination.  He fed the data into the biocomp and puzzled over the results.

“Uh,” he began nervously, “may I ask you a very personal question?”

“Since you are my physician, personal questions are unavoidable,” I responded, wondering what had made him suddenly nervous.

“How sexually active were you on Omicron Ceti III?”

“You know that I was intimate with Dr. Kalomi,” I answered softly.  “Why do you ask?”

“There is a marked spike in your hormone levels,” he responded as he passed the scanner again over my lap and low back.  “Please let me know if you notice any changes in your body,” he said, still baffled.

I nodded again as I clutched my bundled robe even tighter.  He stretched out his hand and gently rubbed the robe, to my surprise.

“If this doesn’t stand for Leila, then who does it represent?” he questioned gently, “or is this a case of a robe being just a robe?”

I rubbed my cheek on the fabric and caught his lingering scent.

“You’re not thinking of your fiancée, are you!” he observed.  “You would have preferred someone else, someone from this ship.”

I kept quiet.  This one was very perceptive.

“Does she … No, does he even know?”

“How did you deduce that?” I breathed.

“I am good at reading faces,” he admitted with his trademark crooked grin,” even your stony face.”  His smile faded to a gentle look.  “You needn’t be ashamed,” he said calmly.  “There is a broad spectrum between hetero- and homosexuality.  Most of us fall somewhere in between.”

“Even someone with a fiancée?” I asked.

“Even someone with a wife,” he replied quietly.

We looked at each other mutely for a full minute.  I could not tell what he was thinking.  He was enigmatic as a Kohlinahr Adept at that moment.  I desperately wanted to tell him my thoughts, but I could not find the words.

Finally, he dropped his gaze to his scanner.  “I’ve pried enough,” he stated.  “I better go write my report.”  He looked up at me again with a sincere gaze.  “I am here for you.  If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

I softened my gaze.  “We are in an enclosed environment with a finite number of places to occupy,” I teased.  “There are no places to hide.”

He gave me a warm grin.  “Right.  Well, I’ll leave you to … whatever you were doing.”

He picked up his equipment and moved to the door.  He paused.

“Try to tell him,” he said.  “He really needs to know.”

I nodded.

He left.

I whispered to the closed doors.

“It is you, Leonard McCoy.”

End part 1

Part 2:  I Hope It’s Me

I found him in the forward observation lounge.

He didn’t look up as I placed the portable bio-comp at his feet.  He was hugging his Vulcan robe to himself like a lifejacket and looked away.  He was no doubt hiding from everybody down here.

He looked wary, like he was waiting for me to yell at him or something.  Lord knows I could for making me look for him all over this ship.

I thought back to that godforsaken planet and remember that pretty blonde scientist, how we found him kissing her, embracing her.  I took a wild guess.

“Missin’ Leila, eh?”

He nearly leaped at me for saying that.

“­No,” he said firmly. “She deliberately infected me.”

I was puzzled.  “But you two seemed so … cozy.”

He shook my head.  “It was all the spores doing,” he told me, “and she was … at hand.”

‘At hand’?  What the devil did he mean by that?  The spores made him fall for the first person he saw?  Where was I when that happened?? 

“You mean, you could have paired up with … anybody?”  Damn, but I sounded … frustrated.

He shrugged in response.

I sighed.  It seemed I had missed my big chance.

“You know, we are all suffering from some sort of emotional, some moral hangover, for want of a better word,” I told him.  “No one will judge you, believe me.  We all had … lapses.”

It was his turn to sigh.

“Leila had tried to seduce me once before,” he admitted, “despite my protestations that I have … someone waiting for me at home.” 

‘Someone waiting’?  Wait a minute.

“You mean you’re married?” I blurted.

He shook his head and corrected, “Engaged.”

“Oh,” I said, sounding stupid.

We just looked at nothing for a few seconds.

“Don’t feel guilty,” I told him at last.  “We were under alien influence, like puppets.”  For want of something physical to do to distract myself, I picked up the scanner and tricorder.  “You’re the last to be examined.  May I?”

He sat up straighter.  “You have never asked my permission before,” he told me as I activated the portable scanner with a flick of the switch.  He finally noticed the heavy device I had lugged in here.  “Did you carry that all the way here from Sickbay?” he asked.

“No,” I answered as I waved the scanner over him and scowled at the results.  “I used a cart.”

He became quiet, I guess so I could hurry up with the exam and leave him the hell alone.  I fed the data into the biocomp and puzzled over the results.

“Uh.”  I cleared my throat.  This was going to be hard to say.  “May I ask you a very personal question?”

“Since you are my physician, personal questions are unavoidable,” he said kindly, noticing my nervousness.  I plowed ahead before I lost my nerve.

“How sexually active were you on Omicron Ceti III?”

I expected him to yell at me, to tell me to mind my own damn business.  Instead, he answered softly, “You know that I was intimate with Dr. Kalomi.  Why do you ask?”

I looked again at his results.  “There is a marked spike in your hormone levels,” I told him as I passed the scanner again over his lap and low back, the two places I knew he carried his male organs.  “Please let me know if you notice any changes in your body,” I said, still baffled.  While most of him was very Vulcan, he still carried some very human organs, like that small fourth lobe in his liver, or that tiny spleen.  His hormones were high enough for two men.

He nodded again as he clutched that bundled robe even tighter.  I stretched out my hand and gently rubbed the robe, wondering who he was thinking about.

“If this doesn’t stand for Leila,” I asked him, “then who does it represent?”  Old Doctor Freud would be proud of my next question, “Or is this a case of a robe being just a robe?”

He rubbed his cheek on the fabric where my hand was a moment ago.  What the hell?

“You’re not thinking of your fiancée, are you!” I observed.  “You would have preferred someone else, someone from this ship.”

He kept quiet, wary again.

“Does she,” I began.  I noted a minute change in his eyes.  Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.  “No, does he even know?”

His mouth dropped open at that.  Bingo!  “How did you deduce that?” he breathed.

“I am good at reading faces,” I admitted with a grin, “even your stony face.”  I put on my best bedside manner.  “You needn’t be ashamed,” I told him gently.  “There is a broad spectrum between hetero- and homosexuality.  Most of us fall somewhere in between.”

“Even someone with a fiancée?” he asked.  Was that hope I saw in his eyes, or was I projecting?

“Even someone with a wife,” I replied quietly, thinking about that shrew I married, settling for her because my family thought it was more respectable for me to have a wife.

We stared at each other for what seemed like forever.  I couldn’t read his face this time.  I desperately wanted to tell him what I was thinking about, how on the planet I lolled around him and Leila waiting for him to change his mind and come to me, but I couldn’t find the words.

Finally, I looked down at the equipment.  “I’ve pried enough,” I said.  “I better go write my report.”  I looked up at his face again with all the sincerity I could muster.  “I am here for you.  If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled in that charming way of his.  “We are in an enclosed environment with a finite number of places to occupy,” he said, the little tease!  “There are no places to hide.”

I smiled back at him in reply.  “Right.  Well, I’ll leave you to … whatever you were doing.”

I picked up the equipment and moved to the door.  I paused.

“Try to tell him,” I said, adding silently, whoever he is, the lucky bastard.  “He really needs to know.”

He nodded.

I left.

I think I heard him say something while the doors were closing.

“I hope it’s me, Spock,” I said out loud.  “I hope to God it’s me.”

End part 2

END STORY