After his office doors closed, McCoy rested his head on his hands. “Damned, nosey hobgoblin!  He‘s probably here to rub my nose in my illogical emotions.  His logical brain could never be affected by such aliens.  Korob said that he had no colors to his logic.”  McCoy thought to himself.  Then he stiffened, there was that feeling again.  The dark emptiness returned and it was stronger this time, it made him nauseous.  McCoy decided that he needed to end his work for the day.  He reported off to Dr. M’Benga and went to have dinner with Jim and the other officers.

He gathered his replicated chicken noodle soup and mashed potatoes and sat next to Kirk. 

“Is that all you are going to eat, Bones?” Kirk asked.  The tone in his voice triggered a memory of what Kirk had said on the planet, “Ah, Bones…”  He looked up at Kirk then at Spock who both were looking at his food.

“Yeah, that entire creepy Halloweeny planet has made me a little unsettled.”  McCoy said as he salted his mashed potatoes.

Scotty leaned over, “Aye, I was feelin’ a wee bit off meself.  A good dose of Scotch is what ye’ll be needin’.”

“Or brandy.”  Kirk cut in.

Then thankfully, everyone ate in relative silence.  Spock excused himself for his nightly meditation.  Kirk, McCoy and Scotty did break out the brandy and talked about the encounter with Sylvia and Korob.  The topic kept coming back to the black cat.  The surreptitious nature of the animal reminded McCoy of Spock, and then it reminded him of the darkness that kept resurfacing and the feeling hit him again.  The next thing he knew there was pressure on his right hand and then pain.  Kirk’s voice broke through his stupor.

“My god, Bones, what’s wrong with you?”  Kirk asked as he finished wrapping McCoy’s hand with a napkin.  “You just crushed your glass in your hand.”

“I’ve called Sick Bay, Captin’.”  Scotty said as he stared at the shattered glass shards and blood on the table cloth.  “How deep is it?”

“I don’t know, pretty deep.”  Kirk said.

McCoy still felt out of place, it was as if he were observing himself as a patient, he was detached.

M’Benga arrived with Nurse Chapel.  They carefully unwrapped the napkin and assessed the wound.  The cut in his palm was deep, down into the muscle and there were minor cuts on his fingers.  McCoy was numb through the treatment, not by numbing medication but by some redirection of his senses.

 After M’Benga had finished, he looked at McCoy.  “No surgery for two days until this heals.”

McCoy quietly nodded.  Both M’Benga and Chapel looked at each other puzzled that there was no a tyrannical tirade about McCoy’s duties being limited.   McCoy felt a hiss on his arm from a hypo.

“I’ve given you an antibiotic and a sedative, Leonard.” M’Benga said.  “You need to go to your quarters and get some sleep.”

“I’ll make sure he gets there, thanks, M’Benga.”  Kirk said.  He turned to McCoy and sighed.  “Let’s get you to bed, Bones.”  Kirk assisted his friend to stand.

“Would ya be needin’ some help, Captin’?” Scotty asked.

“No, but thanks, Scotty.  Good night.”  Kirk said.

“Good night, Jim…….good night, Doctor.”  Scotty said.

McCoy mumbled his ‘good night’ reply and walked with Kirk to his quarters.  The hypo was taking effect, he could feel the welcome absence of his headache and the dread of the darkness was gone.  Kirk removed his uniform and boots and left him in his T-shirt and briefs and settled him in the bed.  Kirk sat by his bedside working on his compad until McCoy fell asleep.

McCoy was not certain what time it was when he was awakened by the sensation of something creeping up on his bed.  It had moved from his feet and now it was past his waist. 

“Lights on!”  He yelled as he sat up abruptly.  The bright light was painful, “Lights to 50%.”

He was panting as he scanned his blanket and his room for was ever had been on his bed.  There was nothing on or around his bed.  His heart was hammering in his chest and he tried to relax by taking deep breaths.   McCoy looked at his clock, it was three am.  What was that old Earth adage, the witching hour?  There was no way he could get back to sleep now.

He made himself some real coffee and sat at his desk working on crew health reports.  He had to stop frequently due to the pain in his right hand from the cut.  At seven am, he got dressed and headed to the officer’s lounge for some breakfast.  As he entered the lounge, Kirk and Spock were on their way out.

Kirk grabbed his shoulder, “Bones, you look like shit.  How’s your hand?”

Spock’s eyebrows shot up at Kirk’s question and he looked at the cut on McCoy’s palm.

“I’m okay, Jim.”  McCoy said as he put his right hand behind his back.

“You don’t look okay.  Get some rest, Bones.  I’ll stop by for lunch later.”  Kirk said as he patted McCoy’s shoulder. 

McCoy did not look over at Spock, he headed straight for the replicator.  Then he turned his head back to the door, they both were gone.  McCoy breathed a sigh of relief.  Jim and his big mouth, now Spock would be bugging him all day.  That’s all he needed.

After breakfast, he went to Sick Bay.  He checked on some patients and logged in more health reports.  Chapel kept hovering over him like a mother hen.  He didn’t have the energy to fight with her, besides she would call Kirk and then he’d have to deal with Kirk and Spock together.

At 12:30 pm, Kirk stopped by for lunch.  Thankfully, Spock wasn’t with him and Kirk was back to his usual self filling him in on the latest news from Starfleet.  Scotty joined them and his bubbly humorous nature put McCoy at ease. 

After lunch, McCoy was tired and he returned to his quarters for a nap.  He fell asleep as soon as he lay on his bed.  He had some bizarre dreams.  Images of Korob and Sylvia probing his mind as he was held in a chair by an invisible force, unable to move.  He tried to fight them off but it was in vain.  

Then Sylvia noticed the darkness sequestered in his mind.  She and Korob tried to gain access to the black nebulous area of his mind.  Then Sylvia’s face morphed into Spock’s image, not his Spock but the Mirror Spock.  His mind was immediately flooded with memories of the encounter in Sick Bay with him.  The intense pain in his brain and his left wrist returned and overpowered the pain from Sylvia.  McCoy felt the return of the panic he had felt as Spock forged his way through his memories, leaving a white hot pain in his wake.  Then the Mirror Spock locked onto McCoy’s repressed feelings for Spock.  At first, McCoy felt as though this Spock was mocking him but he was attempting to amplify McCoy’s desires.  Mirror McCoy had rejected his advances and scorned him.  Now he twisted McCoy’s thoughts of a gentle, passionate encounter with Spock into a fierce biological imperative.  There was no love in this desire; this was a consuming, controlling force.  An unrequited desire on both sides of the universe and both opposites of each other.  He remembered he screamed from the intensity of Mirror Spock’s hunger, and the overwhelming sorrow that his Spock would never acknowledge his feelings for him.  He was crying, he could feel the tears running down his cheeks.  Sobs racked his chest and this woke him up.  His pillow was wet from sweat and from the tears.  He remembered that he had not cried in the Mirror Universe, these tears were for this universe.  An extreme feeling of nausea came over him and he ran to his bathroom.  He collapsed in front of the commode and vomited spastically until there was nothing left to throw up.  McCoy sat with his head resting on the seat of the commode; he was sweating, gasping and trembling.  His headache returned and throbbed to the beat of his heart, his throat was sore from the acid stomach contents he had lost and his body continued shake.

 About twenty minutes later, he had calmed down enough to take a hot shower.  He hated the smell of the sour sweat and vomit on his skin and clothes.  McCoy dressed in his lounging clothes, took medicine for his headache then he sat on his bed.   Had he repressed the memories of the mind probe from the Mirror Spock or had that Spock sealed them over?  McCoy had a few nightmares after returning from that hostile universe but nothing on the scale he had just recovered from.

His door buzzer made him jump.  “Who is it?” he asked with a raspy voice.

“It is Spock.”  The First Officer replied through the intercom. 

McCoy groaned, of all the worst times for Spock to visit.  Perhaps Jim had sent him and Spock could be very persistent when it was a request from Kirk and a mission he had made for himself.  How could he tell Spock about the encounter from the Mirror Spock and that he had learned about McCoy’s desire for the man outside his door?

“Come in Spock.”  He said his voice was still coarse.

Spock entered into his cabin and walked close to McCoy.  His expression was one of alarm.  McCoy realized that he had not combed his hair after his shower, nor had he shaved.  He bet his appearance would shock anyone.

“Doctor, are you not well?”  Spock asked.

“I’m havin’ problems dealing with what happened with Sylvia and Korob.”  McCoy said.

“I noticed that Sylvia accessed your mind easily, you seemed almost hypnotized by her moving her necklace.  You have not displayed this mental vulnerability before, Doctor.  Jim recounted the events of what happened last night when you cut your hand.  There is more than the events on Pyris affecting you, am I correct?”  Spock asked.  McCoy would have argued back but there was softness and a rare gentleness to his tone.

“No, Spock, there isn’t.  I’m being over emotional as usual.”  McCoy said breaking his eye contact with Spock.  He looked down at the healing cut on his right hand and he noticed his hands were trembling.  This definitely would not go unnoticed by Spock’s acute vision.

Spock stepped closer and then he rested his hand on top of McCoy’s.  McCoy was taken aback by the gesture but then he remembered that Spock was a touch telepath.  He yanked his hand away angrily.

“How dare you go prying into my thoughts, Spock!”  McCoy yelled and he sprang up from the bed.

“I am using my diagnostic tools just as you have used your tricorder without my permission and as you have done to Jim.”  Spock said as he stepped in front of McCoy to block his possible escape from his quarters.  “I am quite concerned for you, Doctor, and so is Jim.  I have inquired about the events that happened in the Mirror Universe with the Captain and on your own medical log.  I am correct that something transpired between you and my Mirror self.  I perceived that there was contact between you two when you returned to the ship.  You did not report this in your log and you did not seem aware of what took place until the events on Pyris.”  Spock said.

McCoy displayed the human fight or flight reaction to what Spock was saying.  He was hyperventilating, sweating, pupils dilated and his carotid pulse bounced rapidly. 

Spock had to be cautious at this point.

“How the hell did you guess that I had an encounter with the other Spock?” McCoy yelled.  “You haven’t performed a mind meld on me….how could you have known?”

“Please sit down, Doctor, before you collapse.”  Spock said as he indicated to the bed.

“No!  I’m perfectly fine standin’ right here.  Answer my question, dammit!”  McCoy said, he was calming down but anger had taken the place of his initial panic.

“Very well, Doctor, when you returned from the Mirror Universe your skin and uniform were saturated with that Spock’s pheromones.  I know this because they are identical to my own.  The scent was that of intense sexual arousal.  Did he force himself on you, Doctor?”  Spock asked.

McCoy went completely pale and he staggered over to his bed and sat down.  He cradled his head in his hands, covering his face.  All this time Spock had suspected something had happened.  Why hadn’t he said anything?  How had the other Spock successfully encapsulated that memory of what had happened? McCoy was overwhelming grateful that the Mirror Spock had not taken advantage of him. 

“No, he didn’t.”  McCoy replied, his face still buried in his hands.  “He was angry at the other McCoy, who had not returned his feelings.  I guess I was his outlet for his anger.”  McCoy raised his head up and looked up at Spock.  “Why did he block all of this from my memory?  If you smelled him on me, why didn’t you do anything?”

“I perceived that you were unharmed.  You would have been injured if he was successful in his pursuits.   I did not detect that a bond had taken place; your behavior would have been very obvious and different.  I believe that you were spared injury due to some feelings that were present.  Through touch with your Mirror self; I learned that Spock had made several attempts to develop a bond and a relationship with him.  The amount of hatred and disdain that the other McCoy had for Spock was a reason such a relationship did not occur.”  Spock pulled up the chair from McCoy’s desk and sat in front of him.  “There is a reason why he did not further assault you and why he protected your recall of the encounter.  On Vulcan, if making a bond with another would not be successful or possible, it is a custom to seal off the initial meld.  However, his ruthless ferreting through your mind is considered a crime.  You have been grievously injured by his dissection of your thoughts, Doctor.  This explains the ease at which Sylvia was able to ‘open the door to your mind’, to use a metaphor.  There is another reason why he had sealed off this memory.  He had been refused and you have perceived that you would be rejected.”

Tears for the final release and the acknowledgement of McCoy’s feelings for Spock, flooded his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.  He fought the oncoming sob that escaped his lips but the buildup and sudden release of his feelings overcame McCoy.  He bent his head and covered his face; sobs shook his chest and shoulders.  Spock went to his bathroom and brought back a cool, wet washcloth for McCoy to wipe his face with.

“Thanks, Spock.”  McCoy said as he wiped his face.  “You just said that I have perceived that I would be rejected.  Why do you say this?”  McCoy asked a few sobs still caused his breath to hitch.

“I have noticed your eyes, they reveal a lot about you, Doctor.   I have had brief physical contacts with you as well.  Your feelings are noted and you have not been rejected.  What I perceive from you is a gentle and deep compassion.  The Mirror Spock undoubtedly sensed this and did what was customary even in his universe.  He was aware of your feelings for me and he sealed off his initial meld.  The blackness that you had been experiencing was like a scab over a wound, eventually it would have faded.  Unfortunately, Sylvia and Korob opened this protected area of your mind and released your memories of what had taken place.”  Spock paused briefly and his voice softened.  “To answer your question, Doctor, There is an affirmation that your feelings are reciprocated.  I have had a fondness for you for quite some time.  It distressed me to witness what had occurred on Pyris.  Knowing that you have suffered more from the ordeal grieves me.”

McCoy reached out and held one of Spock’s hands; the response from Spock was a gasp.  They sat facing each other in silence for a few minutes, and then McCoy yawned.  Spock could feel the weariness and a strong sense of joy coming from McCoy.  Spock stood up and went to McCoy’s side and sat next to him.  McCoy could feel the warmth coming from Spock’s body and leaned into it.  Spock guided him to lie down on the bed and he laid nest to him.  He gathered the exhausted doctor into his arms and when he felt the rhythm of sleep in McCoy’s breathing, he placed his fingers in the meld position on McCoy’s face.  With gentle precision, he repaired the rips that the other Spock had caused. Also, he remembered what Kirk had said about his alternate self, ‘He was a man of integrity’.  Had the alternate Spock followed his lust filled pursuit, McCoy would have been severely assaulted and a permanent bond would have taken place.  Being returned to this universe it would have resulted in an agonizing death for McCoy and a possible death for that Spock as well. Afterwards, he caressed the gentle mind that held the affection that he thought would never be felt for him.  Spock had been hurt by the intense hatred the other McCoy had for his Spock.  He studied the sleeping man in his arms and he knew that both of their desires had been fulfilled.