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Chapter Text

The door opened with a swoosh, Nyota stood up from her poised position on the sofa and went to hug Christine. 

They settled on the her bed, silence withstanding. Nyota took the curved bottle of wine and poured out two glasses. "So, what's got you so worked up that you were in such desperate need for a girl's night?" 

Christine took a long sip from her glass and dropped her head into her hands. Nyota leaned forwards and carefully pulled the hair ties and pins from her slightly frazzled bun.

She peeked through her fingers as Nyota stroked her arm, saying more gently, "What's wrong?" and shuffling closer so she could wrap her arm around her.

"Well," Christine lifted her head from her hands, leaning back as she raised her confidence. "I don't think Leonard loves me anymore."

Nyota's eyes widened, her hand withdrawing slightly before she corrected herself and pulled her friend into her shoulder. "What's telling you this?"

"Well, he doesn't want to spend any time with me," She bit her lip and nestled closer into the embrace. "I asked him if he wanted to have a date on the observation deck three weeks ago, he declined,"

"I thought to myself, 'Okay, maybe he doesn't want to go on a date tonight,', I asked him the next day, he declined again, I asked him on the weekend, denied," Christine contained. "I've been asking him every few days but he doesn't even consider it, he just shoots me down,"

Nyota pulled her friend up and held her hand, squeezing it as Christine dropped her head again. Her hair slid down her neck, slowly covering her face as her breaths began to quiver and become uneven. 

They sat in silence for a while, letting Christine's emotions drip out of her like the tears that were rolling down her face. Nyota had seen how cheerful and goofy Leonard was when the relationship had started. It was almost heartbreaking having to watch him pretend to be the grump he usually was. 

Christine too had noticed a change in him. A few months ago, he could barely stop himself from smiling and acting like the southern gentleman all hours of the day. His disposition was sunny and bright, his sarcasm and comments more playful, she'd even heard him humming a few times during physicals. 

Now, he seemed tired. He moved stiffly, eyelids heavier when you caught a glance of him unguarded. His comments were harsher, snappy, and spiteful. He slumped when he sat. More wrinkles formed on his rough face. His hair was less tidy. 

The worst part was how he covered it. Nyota had only noticed this when she'd joined Christine dinner in the mess a few days prior. An occasional sigh, a droop of the shoulders, or maybe a muttered comment. 

Christine spoke up, "That's not all, though." She sat up again, wiping her eyes on a tissue and taking another sip of wine. "It's simple things too, he's working more, filling in reports while we're cuddling on the sofa, not wanting to watch a simple holo or even just relax in the same room,"

Nyota didn't know what to say, so she let her continue. 

"And, our sex life has been dry too," She lowered her tone a bit in embarrassment. 

"Well, if you need anything, I can always help," They laughed as Nyota wiggled her eyebrows, happy that she could make her friend chuckle. 

"He never wants anything for himself, all he does is make me, you know, orgasm,"

"Oh, how tragic,"

"I mean, if I try to do something for him, ask for something that involves him, he's never up for it," She said, shuffling closer to whisper. "I tried to give him a blow job a few days ago,"

"Tried?"

"Yeah, tried, I was down there for ten minutes, and nothing. I actually had to click to get him to realise I'd given up," She took a long sip of wine and continued. “It’s like he’s not attracted to me sexually anymore, he’s giving me so much that I guess I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to make up for something,”

Christine lent forwards and poured them both another glass of wine while Nyota got up to pace the floor, twisting her hair around her fingers as she tried to come up with some good advice. The last thing she wanted was to give her bad advice, make her stay when she shouldn’t, or tell her to leave when it was all a misunderstanding.

“Look, the best thing you can do is talk to him, tell him that you’re feeling left out and abandoned and that you’re getting concerned about how he’s acting, then, if he decides to talk you’ll have your answer,” She said, sliding back onto the sofa. “There’s a reason why communication is the key to a successful relationship you know,”

Christine sighed and placed her feet onto the glass table in front of her, raking a hand through her hair as she agreed and changed the conversation onto something more fun.

“Right, I think I need cheering up after all that, how about I do your nails?” She asked, getting up to retrieve the small box in Nyota’s closet that she knew was always kept immaculately. “I think a good deep green would suit you,”

The atmosphere shifted from there. Christine felt a little lighter as if the rant had been the weight of the world on her shoulders. She let a smile creep up on her face as she settled into the calm evening, listening distantly to the hum of the engine far away from them.

A few days later, after rehearsing and thinking everything over, she was taking Nyota's advice and was addressing all her issues. 

She sat on his bed, reading a book on her PADD while keeping her ears pricked for the sound of Leonard emerging from his speedy water shower. A cup of tea lay half-drunk on the bedside table and the overhead lamp was set to a warm amber colour.

His quarters itself were bigger than her's, with him being a senior officer, and contained a bathroom he shared with Scotty on the right-hand wall, a small closet opposite the bathroom door, a sofa next to the bathroom, and a desk opposite the bed. The bed itself was tucked into the far right corner, on the same wall as the bathroom, and had a rectangular window showing the zooming flashes of light as they zipped through space.

Leonard walked out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry as he jumped at her presence on the bed. 

She chuckled and stood up to hand him his coffee, kissing his cheek and catching a glimpse of his eyes. They were duller than normal, darker, and deeper. He hadn't put his mask on yet. 

He let out a grumble as she led him to the bed and turned on a random holo, curling into his side as they assumed their usual cuddling positions. She felt his hand rub circles into her side, it should've been comforting and familiar, but after Nyota's advice, she could sense his disconnection radiating off him.

"Can we talk?" Sitting up as she watched his eyes widen. 

He nodded and shuffled along the bed. The holo went off with a word. Leonard picked at the skin underneath his fingernails, his breath barely even.  

“I’ve gone through this in my head, and I‘ve talked about it with Nyota, and I’ve come to the, perhaps obvious, conclusion that we need to talk about this,”

“Okay,” His voice was thin and quiet, she reached out and took his hands.

His hands were dry and worn, wrinkles and cracks showing the age. Her’s were smoother, still roughed by her life as a medic but easier to touch and stroke. They stared at them for a while, procrastinating what they knew was going to be hard. 

She thought back for a moment to the early days of their relationship, when he’d hold her between his legs and cradle her body for hours. Other times, she’d pull his head into her lap and card her fingers through his hair as stress-induced tears seared his cheeks. 

They were used to each other now, almost bored. This was partially why she hesitated to make such a big issue about this, the honeymoon phase was wearing out. She knew the ways to fix some of the issues, take up a hobby together, give each other more space, spice things up in the bedroom, talk more. 

It wasn’t like she hated this part of a relationship, quite the opposite. There was nothing that could beat the comforting domesticity of knowing you could be in this relationship for the long haul. They had a routine now, she made him a drink in the morning, he listened to her terrible singing in the shower, they moved around each other seamlessly during their shift, ate what they usually ate for that day and relaxed in front of a holo before bed. 

She came back to herself, “I don’t feel like you’re giving me anything lately, emotionally speaking,”

His eyes flashed with fear, possibly the fear he carried ever since his last long term relationship, the one with Jocelyn. He cleared his throat and sat up straight, placing the facade on again. “How do you mean?”

“We don’t do anything couple-y anymore, and I know this is partially because we’re past the honeymoon phase now, but it’s not the same,” She said. “I’m trying to do small romantic things that you like, hugging you every morning, holding your hand when we eat, giving you massages. But you don’t want it, you have no interest in anything I try, and, a girl feels a little down when her partner doesn’t want anything she gives,”

His body exploded into action, his hands shook more and his eyes widened as he reassured her over and over again.“Darn, I-I’m sorry, I can try better, no, I will be better! I just thought that if I do stuff for you, you know, make your tea how you like it, get the shower running when I know you’ve had a hard day, letting you pick the holo, tidying up your desk, then it wouldn’t matter about me.”

“And I know you’re going to talk about the bedroom too, but I’m not feeling too into doing stuff for me right now, so I thought that if I just pleasured you then it would even things out,” He continued, she lifted her hand into his hair and pushed his head down onto her shoulder, tension slipping out of him as he nestled in further into her neck.

“Honey, didn’t it cross your mind that I want to make you feel good, that you deserve affection just like everyone else,” They shuffled a bit and lay down on the bed.

Leonard shrugged and cuddled more into her body, breathing in her scent, taking in her light.

“What happened? I can feel you fading, and I don’t want you to feel pressured to open up about everything, you’ll do that when you’re ready. But it scares me how easily you’re hiding away and how okay you are with not talking at all,” Christine said.

He shook, building up the strength to talk but failing. His head turned fully into the crook of her neck. She could feel the sheen of sweat rubbing off her forehead, his breaths turning shorter and shorter. He opened his mouth to speak but words failed, he shook his head. 

They sat up, holding each others' hands as she told him to breathe. In and out. Repeating the same until he got to a stable state.

"Thank you for being patient, I don't want to seem like I was trying to avoid this conversation," He managed to sign with shaking hands.

Christine nodded, not wanting to push. She'd seen him get to this point before when he went into his head and couldn't speak for unknown amounts of time. It was at times like this she realised how logical it was to get everyone to know sign language, both the Federation Language and their home language. 

"It's okay, do you feel comfortable telling me what's going on?" She replied, also signing.

"I need a break, every time a crisis happens, I get so overwhelmed," He said, his hands flurrying as he signed. "When we have to reschedule every physical, shot update, check-up, surgery, all for the emergency, then we have to work double shifts to get everyone seen to. And after that's done, we have to do it all again. I’m so exhausted,”

“I need to write Jim a COMM,” She started but quickly added when she saw his panic. “Only to talk about Shore Leave, we don’t need to tell him about this until you’re ready, okay?” 

He nodded from his space he'd carved for himself in her side. Christine’s hand fell into his hair like it always did, and a smile befell her face when she felt his shoulders’ slump. His face was barely calm, cheeks squished and mouth agape. He was safe, sound asleep.

Chapter Text

Sickbay was as quiet as it ever was. Geoffrey was returning from the lab. He'd spent hours upon hours analysing blood, tissue and cell samples to find a cure for a form of radiation turned liquid and that had infected almost a quarter of the crew. He had the latest test results, all negative.

The main ward was full of people. Most of the remaining patients had minor injuries, none requiring surgery. He noted Christine directing the Gamma Shift nurses to patients, she smiled as he nodded in her direction. 

He scanned the ward again, 'Where was Doctor McCoy?'. This was his shift and he was never one to skip. Everyone on the Enterprise was trying and failing, to get him to work less. 

That was how he used to be, anyway. 

Nowadays he was different. Turning up barely on time, often late. His hair was untidy and uniform scruffy. It wasn't like him. He took pride in being the best CMO in the 'Fleet, always trying to make the best impression, even if he hated the person he was talking to.

His work was slacking too. Most days he would zone out, lose himself in the chaos he usually thrived in. There had even been times when he forgot the patient he was caring for or the treatment he was giving. 

Geoffrey was trying to see what was wrong, he'd changed his shift patterns to be on the same as him, to help him. He'd taken on some of his paperwork, going on missions when sickbay was too busy and leaving coffee in his vicinity. 

He rapped a knock on Leonard's office door, waiting a few seconds before knocking again.

"Dr McCoy, I have the latest test results,"

No response.

"They're negative,"

He pressed his ear against the door.

"We need your advice, you are the CMO," He sighed. "Look, I know you've probably got the Captain on your ass about advice, and Starfleet, and reports to write but I need your help, we all do,"

The door slid open, Dr McCoy standing aside and perching on the edge of his desk. His hair was messed up, desk cluttered, the lights were low. 

"You look like hell,"

"Thanks."

"What's going on with you?" He asked. 

Leonard looked up, "Huh? Nothing's going on," he moved over slightly to make way for his friend. 

"I don't believe that for a second," 

He waited for an answer, swinging his legs slightly. But, once he realised he wasn't getting one, he continued. "You stay in your office as long as you can, you're forgetting patients and procedures and you can't deny how much you've been procrastinating,"

"So? I've been slacking, big deal. You're acting like this is an unheard of, life-threatening thing,"

"We're both Doctors on a starship, Leonard, and you have psychology qualifications. Don't pretend like these aren't symptoms of depression,"

Leonard failed to hide the shock that flashed in his eyes. He kicked his feet a little harder. The silence felt thick and suffocating down their throats.

"Talk to me, please, I promise I won't judge,"

He watched and for a second let himself believe his efforts were fruitless. But he was taking down the walls around his heart, brick by brick. 

"When we had that year off on earth, I worked in Starfleet Medical, not as the Chief Medical Officer or the Chief Surgeon or even the head of a department, I was just a surgery consultant, a senior doctor,"

"I didn't have to sort out schedules for staff, or read over and write reports until my eyes were crossed, no away missions, no dangerous new situations or unknown diseases that make me want to pull my hair out, I could just go home,"

"I still stayed behind, obviously, I'm a doctor, not an office worker. But when I had long-running surgeries or emergency care, it never lasted another full shift, not like being the CMO did,"

"And I got used to it, and I enjoyed it. I got into the routine and the lower stress levels. So when I came back to the ship a year later, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be here after all," Leonard stopped and looked at M'Benga for some kind of approval or understanding.

"So you're doubting being the CMO? Are you saying you want to resign and be an average doctor again?" Geoffrey said.

Leonard shook his head, "I still want to be CMO,"

"That doesn't make sense," He hopped off the desk and stood eye-to-eye to him. "You just said you enjoyed the life of a regular doctor more than the role of CMO, how can that not mean you should resign?"

"I never said anything about resigning, all I said is that I'm taking a little longer than expected to adjust back to life as the CMO," Leonard joined him on the floor. "Why would you think I want to resign? I love this job!"

Geoffrey scoffed, "Love it? You were just telling me how you're tired of it!"

"Because I'm burnt out, you're taking this way too far," 

McCoy went to walk to the replicator but felt his hand on his arm. He pulled on the restraint. It didn't budge. 

"How am I taking this too far? All I want is for sickbay, the place that I work, is running smoothly. And that means having a CMO that enjoys the job and staff that are cared for and supported," 

Leonard shook the hand off and clapped his hands in front of his face, taking a few steps backwards as he came to a conclusion, "Oh, oh! I know what this is about, you want to take my job, don't you?"

"No! I'm happy being a senior medical officer, you're twisting this," 

"That's bullshit,"

"No!" Geoffrey felt every ounce of sympathy being replaced with rage. "Everything you're telling me is bullshit,"

"How? I thought you told me you weren't going to judge me and now you're calling me a liar?"

"Yes, I am, I know when I'm being lied to and I don't like it, tell me the truth, Leonard," 

“I just did,” 

Geoffrey rubbed the bridge of his nose and whistled, trying to regain his composure. He kept telling himself that this was his friend, that lying seemed like the only solution to him, that whatever he was lying for was to cover up something that was hurting Leonard inside.

But every time he thought this, he was reminded of the gossip from the sickbay cafeteria, and the eye rolls Leonard got from the nurses when his back turned and especially his own burnout. 

“Look, all I want is for the medical staff to have a CMO that cares about them, a CMO who wants the job and is motivated because you clearly aren’t,” Leonard went to snap back but M’Benga cut him off. “Don’t say you are, you just admitted to not wanting this job anymore and then you got offended when I suggested that you get a job that you’re happy with,”

“All you do is zone out, complain under your breath when you have to do work and sulk in your office, you don’t do anything to help us, the people who actually work when we’re in sickbay and I changed my shift schedule to try and help you out but you don’t even care about that. You never do any work and leave it all to us!” He stopped truly seeing Leonard’s face as he gave up and let out all his pent up thoughts. “And don’t say you’re doing reports when I know you’ve been staring at the same one for over a week now,”

“Get your act together, McCoy, decide what you want because I can’t do that for you, and maybe then I’ll think about being friends with you again. But until then, you’re just my colleague and my superior,” Geoffrey took a deep breath and noticed that Dr McCoy’s hands were trembling. “Now, look at all the tests results and give me an answer or we’re going to lose people,”

He stormed out of his office, wishing he could slam the door. Around him, applause erupted as the annoyed medical staff awarded him for delivering their boss their thoughts. The moment didn’t last long but he did count the smiles on people’s faces as they continued testing and questioning.

Yet, he caught a glance of Christine as she went to take more results to the labs. She shook her head and left. She knew something he didn’t.

Chapter Text

"Spock, where is it?" Jim asked.

He was currently kneeling on the floor, his head in a drawer as he rooted around. The entire room had been torn apart in his search. And Spock was barely containing himself from chasing after him fixing everything he messed with.

"Can you specify 'it'?" 

Jim sat up, "You know, the thing," He made a vague cube-like gesture.

"That has not specified what you're looking for any further," Spock placed his PADD down on the chair next to him. 

"The cube, with the buttons, the concentration thingy," He said.

"You're fidget cube?" Spock raised an eyebrow. "I remember placing it in your emergency drawer,"

Jim jumped in the air and ran over to the drawer, pulling out the cube and hurrying back to the main part of the room to continue pacing. 

For a second, he could feel calm rinsing the stress away. All he could focus on was the cube, a habit he was trying to relax with Spock's help, and the help of the main ship's councillor.

Spock had been a great help, his particular organisation and eagerness to assist had been a perfect match for Jim, who had needed someone to help him prioritising his time. They both had trouble with stopping once they started, Spock sometimes had to be dragged from the labs and Jim could read old earth books until his hands were covered with paper cuts. But they had both got better, anyone could tell them that.

"Where is he, Spock?" 

Spock got up and placed his hands on Jim's shoulders, "I cannot tell you, but would it help if we visited Leonard's quarters to check on his location?"

Jim nodded and marched out of his quarters, fidget cube in one hand and his other arm wrapped around Spock's. 

The corridors were quiet, in comparison to how they were during Alpha shift. Yet there were still occupied with enough people that it didn't feel eerie. He started humming a song that had been in his head all day, something about sunflowers on Risa that an ensign had sung on the last karaoke night. 

This was the seventh time Leonard had skipped a chess lesson. They were almost used to his half-baked excuses: "I've had a long shift,", "I don't think I can concentrate that much," or even "I haven't eaten yet, you don't want to teach me when I'm hungry,". Jim was growing tiresome of his charade.

Something was different this time, though, he thought as he left the turbolift. It was the first time he hadn't given them any reason not to come. He just hadn't turned up.

He knocked on the door, huffing when Leonard didn't answer. He tried again but got the same reaction.

"Perhaps he is elsewhere?" Spock suggested. As soon as he said that, however, the door opened, almost as though it was the password. 

Leonard was a mess. His hair was ruffled, not in the rugged, attractive way it went after a shift. It had a dull shine that came from a lack of washing, he was yet to shave and wrinkles were becoming more prominent.

"Do you know what time it is, Bones?" 

He shook his head.

"It's 2003 hours, you were meant to meet us at 1900 hours," Jim tried to level his voice.

Leonard's eyes opened a fraction wider. His hand on the door frame tightened, his knuckles going white. "Jim, Spock, I didn't realise-"

"Didn't realise? It's the same time every week, how could you forget?" His voice grew louder, Spock squeezed his arm. "Oh wait, you do that a lot now, apparently, or at least that's what Dr M'Benga put in his official complaint,"

"Complaint? I thought this was about chess?" 

"It was about chess, the first few times you didn't show up, but now we're hearing staff talk about your attitude, and how you're not going on away missions or are a bit too bitter to be funny,"

Leonard took his hand off the door frame then moved into the corridor. He took his movements slow, this conversation didn't seem to matter to him yet it also mattered too much.

"Alright, I haven't been the best at work lately, is that what you came here to shout at me about?" His words came out in a dusty breath, his body looked weak.

Jim shoved off Spock's hand and folded his arms, sitting back into his stance. "No, you've got a meeting with us and Dr. M'Benga about that tomorrow to talk about work, at exactly 08:00 hours,"

"Can't we make it a few minutes later?"

"No, this way you'll make sure not to be late, and besides, you're in no place to bargain right now," 

Leonard sighed again, "Okay, fine, was that all?"

"No, our original question was about how you're avoiding our chess lessons like the plague," 

"I guess I'm not cut out for chess, you have to be logical and able to predict the future to be good at that and that's not my forte. But at least I tried to learn, isn't that worth something?" He said.

"I guess, but why couldn't you say something?" Jim replied and raised his eyebrows as he got an idea. "If you just didn't want to play then you would've told us, are you sure there's not another reason?"

They all went quiet, Jim kept his stare on Bones but let it soften as he watched him run a hand through his clumped hair. Spock had yet to say anything, something that Jim couldn't help but feel a spike of petty annoyance at. He had to remember that angry arguments weren't his choice of disagreement. 

"I mean, there could be one,"

"Please, enlighten us," 

"Maybe I'm just sick of watching you two lovebirds ogle at each other while you're meant to be teaching me a dumb game, which by the way is definitely just a means to rid yourself of the guilt you're holding about not spending enough time with me," Leonard spat with enough venom that his eyes seemed to turn green and his tongue could've been forked.

Jim's eyes widened. He knew Bones could be petty but this was downright mean.

"You don't mean that," 

"How do you know? It's not like you're even aware of anyone outside your fairytale enough to notice that you're just beings dicks!" He shouted.

Jim stepped backwards into Spock's arms as his anger melted away into hurt. Another person he trusted, that he loved, turned against him. 

"Well? You're not going to fight back?" He smiled, sickly. Obviously enjoying the upper hand that years of a loveless marriage gave him. "You've gone awfully quiet since I pointed all this out, it's almost like you know it's true,"

Spock finally spoke up, "Leonard, you're being irrational and making assumptions about things that you do not know, if you would let us answer with the promise of a calm response then we could settle the situation properly,"

"Promise a calm response? Last time I checked you were the ones who knocked on my door screaming to me about discipline," He stepped away from the door frame and let the door close behind him. "Now, unless you're going to apologise you can leave,"

"Apologise? You're the one making bold claims, we were just telling you the facts," Jim said.

He closed his eyes, his body vibrating with rage. "Go."

"Bones come on, I didn't want this to happen-" 

All Jim wanted was answers, how had all this gone south so quickly? He'd never seen Bones so harsh, smiling at the confusion and pain of others. Almost like he wasn't himself 

"Don't Bones me, go!" He saw Jim try to reply again but cut him off with a belly-deep roar. "Fuck off!"

They sprinted away, Spock frowning slightly as they got back to the turbo lift. His pupils raced in his eyes, obviously listing similarities between Leonard's actions and something he knew. 

Jim collapsed in on Spock as his breathing lightened, hands shook. He couldn't quite remember where he was, where he'd been or where he was going.

This arm felt nice though, it was strong and cool. Why was a disembodied arm floating around anyway?

"Jim, we are at your quarters, do you wish to sit down?" The voice for the body echoed. 

Who was that? They sound familiar, warm, wise and viscous. 

"Spock…" He whispered as his feet were swung on the bed and he settled into his embrace. "Did that just happen or did I dream it?"

He exhaled, his breath blowing a few strands of hair astray, and said, "Yes, as you humans would say, unfortunately so,"

Jim turned over and screamed into Spock's jumper. He balled his hands into fists as he clutched the smooth ribbed fabric. A few tears escaped as he tried to focus on the now, but that part of his mind was malfunctioning.

Everything was swimming around him. Words from Bones, Frank, Pike and countless others muddled together. Telling him he wasn't good enough, that he was selfish and mean and not worth it. 

The breathing only muted them slightly as Spock tried to calm him down. His hands raking through his hair long and slow. Spock hushed his sobs, humming a soft lullaby as Jim felt rocked into a fuzzy state. He leaned down and kissed his head, singular and pleasant.

"I will talk to him later, ashayam, breathe, for now, that's all you need to do," 

Chapter Text

The mess hall was quiet. A few staff had their heads in books and PADDs, some ate ravenously, others muttered in hushed whispers. Spock took another mouthful of his paella, a dish he had recently discovered, and swiped on the article he was reading. 

"Hi, hon," Jim called and pecked Spock on the cheek. "I'm sure you'll be satisfied know that I've got shore leave for the crew in 2 weeks,"

He cocked an eyebrow as Jim went to the replicator to get his dinner. "How will that satisfy me when I do not need shore leave?"

"Because you're coming with me to look at the ruins of a local temple and a seminar on the importance of Social Media in the 2020 crisis," Jim sat down again and Spock turned his PADD off. "And I saw that you turned off whatever you were reading when I sat down,"

Spock looked down as he blushed. He didn't know why, what he was researching was entirely legal and readily available. But with how Jim and Leonard had ended their argument 2.35 weeks ago, he decided against declaring his research to Jim when he'd started.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I did pick up on it,"

"I have been researching and cross-referencing symptoms of mental health illnesses with Dr McCoy's recent behaviour,"

Jim halted mid-chew as he processed what Spock had said, "I never thought it could be his mental health,"

"How so?"

"I met him when he was at his lowest and he put on a happy mask, he did his work and studying," Jim started. "But when it came to bad days, his behaviour was nothing like he's acting now,"

"Have you considered that due to everything he's experienced, his behaviour during times of mental distress has changed?"

Jim pondered for another moment, "I mean maybe, but I've seen him lately, in the last year or so, on his bad days and he never acted like this," 

Scotty slammed his tray down on the table, making them leap into the air. His hair was unkempt and burns scarred his hands. 

"Who are you talkin' abou'?" He said.

"Bones,"

"I cannae believe I'm about ter say this but I could strangle that man!" He continued after he saw Spock's muted and shocked expression. "He came into engineering eleven times today screaming about physicals and check-ups and half my staff came back teary-eyed," 

Sulu had joined them partway through Scotty's rant and immediately took part, "Is this about Doctor McCoy? Because I have a few things I'd like to say to him,"

"Like what?" Jim said.

"Like how he thinks he has the right to criticise me for missing my husband and daughter just because he messed things up and can't see his,"

"Wait, what did he do?" Uhura asked as she joined them.

"I was ending my video call with Ben and Demora, remember when I was getting everyone to wave goodbye?" The group nodded. "Well, when I left to put my PADD away I heard him muttering about how I "Don't know anything about missing family" and I'm 'Being an ungrateful little bitch just because I know I get to see my family on shore leave and he can't',"

The conversation spiralled from there. Jim shared the few details he could about the meeting with Leonard and Geoffrey as they all got angrier and angrier about the man they once called their friend.

Spock grabbed his wrist to stop his hand from trembling. He'd taken two weeks to gather his research and had barely contained his need to explain every detail he'd discovered over the time. He'd attempted to send Leonard signals, anonymously leaving coffee on his desk, getting deadlines extended for reports and trying to give him, as the human phrase goes, the benefit of the doubt.

He was outside his quarters now. His mind flashing back to two weeks ago when they were chased away and his voice echoed around the corridors. 

The door swooped open, "Hiya, Spock," 

"Good evening, Leonard, how are you?" He said and walked into his quarters.

"Not too bad," 

He questioned for a moment and tried to read Leonard's body. His hands were on his hips, which usually meant someone was annoyed, had he said something to upset him? Or perhaps it was his tone?

His eyebrows were furrowed, they were 76.4% of the time, but they were usually relaxed off duty. And after their conversations on Altamid he thought it was well known that they were friends. Now all he could wonder was what had happened to change this fact?

He was pacing too, his hand on his chin and a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. The temperature was at a normal human level for him, he couldn't be sweating for that reason. 

Part of him, the distant human part, had a pang of hurt. If he could just tell his body language then this would be easier. He had memorized what certain body language meant since he was a child, smiling was happy, crying was bad, no eye contact meant lying or anxiety. 

When he joined Starfleet it all became worse, he got shouted at by students and roommates for not reacting with empathy, he remained alone because he couldn't handle the 'sensory bomb', as Jim called it, that the parties were. 

He appreciated how accommodating Starfleet was for his autism and Federation Society as a whole. But the subtler things he couldn't control, how cadets socialised, how reading body language was essential to neurotypical humans, made him remember that feeling deep in his soul.

"What can I do for you, Spock?" Leonard said, sitting on his desk chair sideways. 

"I need to ask you some questions,"

"Can't this wait until the next shift?"

"These are of a personal matter," Spock informed and turned his PADD on. 

Leonard took a moment to reply, "Go on,"

"I would like to ask if your mental health is the reason for your current behaviour? Your actions, such as oversleeping, drawing away from friends, an irregular eating pattern, are symptoms of depression," Spock said. "I have also collected other information from the crew about your actions and I have grown, in a way, concerned for your wellbeing,"

"Concerned? Ain't that a human emotion, Spock?"

"Leonard, comments like that insinuate your discomfort with the topic, I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable, I merely want to help you in this difficult situation,"

He dropped his smile, "Spock, I appreciate all the effort you've gone to but you're wrong,"

He stood up and poured himself a glass of water. His hair was cleaner, not dull and sticky like it had been when he was last in his quarters. 

"How am I wrong?"

"This isn’t my depression. When I’m having an episode I don’t scream at people, don’t slack on the job, if anything I work harder than I already did just because it's my only chance to prove it to the voices in my head that they’re wrong, that I do care about people and that I am worth sticking around for,” He said. “I have what’s called high-functioning depression, Spock, I do everything a non-suffering person would but it drains me, I can’t fight off the dark thoughts, so I mope, eat and stay up all night, throw myself into work some more to distract myself,”

He looked him in the eye, “Is that anything like what I’m doing now?”

“No, in fact, Jim said the same thing,” Spock stroked his chin and began to reconfigure his research, "But I still have some ques-"

Leonard cut him off and showed him to the door "See, what you're doing isn't bad Spock, and maybe in another universe you would've been right, but it just wasn't,"

"This still doesn't explain your out of character behaviour, such as cutting me off just now,"

"It's not out of character Spock, I'll be honest with you, this is what I became near the end of my marriage,"

“Those two situations are widely dissimilar, to my knowledge you and Christine are not married and are currently doing well in your relationship,”

“There was Spock, and trust me, I was there,” He smiled but the joke didn’t land. “I was getting bored, disconnected, losing my passion for a situation I knew would just end in tears, a situation that I’d end up losing anyway. I didn't try to address it to my wife or fix things in a healthy way or even just sit down calmly and get the divorce sorted like adults. I moped like a child and lost anything I could’ve held onto," 

He looked down again, "But maybe all this, you guys holding me accountable will make sure that doesn’t happen again,”

Spock scanned his face, trying to pinpoint any telltale signs of lying, but couldn't find anything. “Does that mean you’re thinking of leaving?”

“Yes, Spock.”

"But why would you want to leave, after the connections you've made, after the time we put in and, to sound like very human, the memories we’ve made. Why would you put that to waste?"

Leonard shrugged, "That's what I've been asking myself, Spock, maybe it's just in my nature to want to fuck off when they get good," and shut the door in his face. 

Chapter Text

The cold water made her face flush as she looked in the mirror. A few spots had grown on her face, 'Probably from the stress,' she thought as she dried herself off and took to brushing her teeth.

She was still mostly naked from the night before, dressed in only Leonard's t-shirt. It wasn't too much larger than her, she was roughly the same height as him, but he had bought it to be as comfortable as it was now. 

The images of last night were still fresh in her mind. She'd surprised him when he entered his quarters for shore leave, a shock that she soon adjusted to when she realised how much personal space he needed lately, by lying on his bed in nothing but a lace bra and matching underwear.

The sheets had been smooth and clean against her thighs as she rolled against them. Rough, calming scents from the candles floated through the air as he dropped his bag and hesitated before pouncing between her legs.

That had thrown her off. His hesitation.

If this was like before, he would've looked at her with steely confidence, with a look that said he was going to devour her. His clothes would be strewn across the room without a second thought about why or how.

Yet this time she saw the cogs moving in his head. Saw the second-guessing and his front going back up as he grinned too cold and faded just out of her reach as he rolled his hips.

This was the final straw. She knew what she had to do. 

She'd hoped that their first conversation would fix things but there had been no change. No positive ones anyway. He was still fading, now morphing into someone else that she didn't know she wanted to be around.

He never snapped at her, had never bellowed or made her cry, but she knew that he was holding back. What? She didn't know for sure.

She'd had inclinations, had even tried to ask him almost every day to tell what was wrong. His lips stayed sealed and he continued to build up his walls again.

Except these walls had spikes. 

With a deep breath, she walked into the main room again. He was still in the bed, one leg out and a hand over his eyes to mask the fact that he hadn't slept a wink. 

She pulled out a pastel blue turtleneck and a white skirt that grazed her ankles from her bag. Halfway through putting her bra on, Leonard awoke to the situation.

"Wait where are you going?"

She dropped her head, "I'm going to meet my friend for breakfast, you know Michelle from the Academy, I have told you this," 

He hummed and rolled to face her. His arms were within reach of her bareback, and if this was another time, he would've kissed the freckled skin. 

"And I hope you remembered that you're supposed to meet me in the park at 1500 hours," She said and walked over to the vanity to do her makeup for the day.

"Of course I didn't," He only sounded half convinced of his words.

"Don't worry, I'll give you a thirty-minute leeway," She said rubbing the foundation into her skin.

Something empty that was supposed to be a laugh came her way, it sounded more like a cough. Leonard turned onto his back and wrapped the loose sheets around his fingers as they balled into fists.

Once she was ready, she strode over to him, "Right you, have a good day, I'll see you later,"

"See you later," She placed a simple kiss on his forehead and a childish part of herself wished it would break the curse he was under. "I love you,"

"Love you too," Her response was just as shocked as his, with the same voice crack that came from the knowledge that they were both uncertain about their romantic love.

Jim settled back in his chair and groaned. This was the last straw, his patience with Leonard had snapped. 

"How late is he now, Spock?" 

"45.67 minutes, Jim,"

Uhura slammed her hands on the table, making everyone jump from their slumped positions, "Let's order food, if he can be bothered to come then he can order his own food," They all nodded and tapped their breakfast orders into the PADD on the table. 

Jim tried to enjoy his food when it came but felt his mind kept going back to Leonard. Had he really just given up on them all? The last social interaction they'd had with him, out of work, was Spock's confrontation, which went both better and worse than their expectations.

They paid for the meal and took a long walk back to their assigned quarters. The breeze was gentle and soft, the sky was a crisp shade of pastel orange, the perfect day for a walk.

Light flooded through the clear panes of glass, making silhouettes and shadows against the white walls. Jim faced his and Spock's door but stopped midway through putting the code in.

He turned around and stalked along the corridor until he found Leonard's quarters. 

"Jim what are you doin'?" Scotty asked as his friends crowded him.

"I have a few questions to ask him, that's all," 

He pounded on the door, tapping his foot as he waited for the answer. Nothing. All Jim got was deja vu back to their fight.

"Bones, open up, come on," 

Nothing.

"Don't ignore us, I know you're in there,"

Again, nothing.

"You're in no place to hide, you left us waiting in that cafe for almost an hour, where the hell were you?"

The door swooped open. Bones glared through the hair scattered over his eyes. His eyes, what they could see of them, were hollow apart from a soft far off glow of anger deep in his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty. His jaw was bumpy from the stubble he'd grown.

"What do you want?" 

"To know where you were today,"

Bones gestured to his quarters behind him, "Here, why, was I meant to be somewhere?"

"Is that meant to be a joke, because it's not funny," Jim saw that this gave Leonard no more clues about today's breakfast. "The cafe, this morning, you were meant to be there!" 

His eyes widened, "Oh god, fuck, I'm sorry I-I just-"

"Forgot?" 

He looked down, defeated. His hand fell from the door frame where it sat. 

For a moment, Jim could feel sorry for him. How many times had they witnessed each other at their worst? Did the time Bones discovered his eating disorder not count? Or the time he saw their dorm trashed when it was just Bones having a panic attack?

But then he remembered how he was terrorizing the crew. How he wasn't making any effort towards relationships and showed now progress towards fixing all the broken bonds. 

His hand clenched by his sides, "You're doing that a lot, so let me help you, everything we had planned for this shore leave? Don't bother," 

"Wait, Jim!" 

"No, do I need to tell you again? You don't care anymore, about anyone!" Jim pushed Leonard into his hotel room. "So why should we care at all?"

He got no reply. Leonard kept his gaze on the floor and his mouth shut. 

"Is there anything I can do?" He whispered into the tense silence.

Jim turned his back to him and faced his friends, "The group dinner on the last night of shore leave, be there,"

He walked away, barely hearing the "Okay," Leonard let out like a deflated balloon. The door swooshed shut as he tried to calm himself down and think of everything else he had to look forward to.

Spock took his arm and led him to their room, telling everyone to meet them there in half an hour then pulled him into a hug.

She sighed and looked out again at the river flowing beneath her under the bridge. Plants swayed by the bank, an effortless dance to waste the days. 

"Christine, hi," Leonard said and hugged her from behind.

She reached a hand to his and stroked it absentmindedly; she should've turned around to face him but his eyes held too much stress for her to gaze into today. The words she'd practised in her head were heavy on her tongue. Throat closing up, she forced herself to turn and push him away. 

"How was your day?" She still couldn't meet his eyes. 

"It happened,"

"Happened?" She retook his hand in hers and stepped closer. "That doesn't sound good,"

He dropped his head, like it weighed the same as the Enterprise or planet Earth itself, "I forgot about breakfast with my friends if I can even still call them that," 

"Oh no, are you meeting up with them tomorrow?"

"No, just dinner on the last day, it'll be fine though," He turned his head and lost himself in the rushing current of the river. 

"Look, Len, I have something to say and I need you to listen until I finish or I won't be able to," He darted his eyes back and all she could think was the puppy dog look he had during their first conversation.

She let her confidence build up as much as it could and let herself speak, what's the worst that could happen?

"I want to put this relationship on hold, and I have three reasons why," 

"Wait, no, Chrissie-" 

Christine finally managed to look into his panic filled eyes and felt her heart break slightly. A youthful glaze overtook him, the same one he had whenever they lost a patient too close to home.

"Please, let me speak," She wiped away the buildup of tears in her eyes. "The first is that you haven't kept your promise to improve, you said that you'd try harder in our relationship, that you'd be more open and you haven't. And I can't say that I'm satisfied with how we're behaving around each other, I know I can't always get everything I want but I feel like you're giving me even less than before,"

"Second is that I don't like how you're treating our friends, I know that you probably have a reason but it's not an excuse to harass and terrorise your friends, staff and patients," She continued. "And finally, it's for you,"

"For me, how?" They held hands, she stepped closer as he questioned.

"You're fading, falling, slipping out of my grasp. This relationship, any relationship, is meant to give you ease, even in the tough times, you're meant to be relaxed in their presence. But you're none of those things lately, Len, you keep up a mask and tense up if I ask anything remotely deep," She said.

"Relationships take effort, an effort that you don't have and should be putting into your mental health. I don't want to put pressure on you to be something and someone you can't be at the moment," She lifted his hands and kissed them. "This isn't a punishment for not doing good, and I don't want you to feel like I'm abandoning you. All I want you to know is that I love you and want the best for you, but for that to happen I have to put aside my feelings and be there for you as a friend so you can get better and get well again, okay?"

He nodded and she realised tears were pouring down both their faces as he repeated okay over and over again. They collapsed into an embrace as she felt her soul shatter when he realised that she wouldn't do this for such a long time.

Or maybe never again. Who knew if they would even love each other like this once he was in a place for a relationship again?

Chapter Text

Jim slammed the metal tray down and stabbed the food with his fork. Shore Leave had not been as relaxing as he'd wanted.

Firstly, Leonard hadn't shown up to the breakfast they'd planned. It broke his heart in a way, his best friend truly didn't care about him. That was his last effort to rekindle what they'd lost, and he didn't even tell them to reschedule. 

Secondly, said event had shaken him for the entirety of Shore Leave, he couldn't focus on the ruins and left halfway through the seminar.

Finally, when Leonard did show up for the dinner he didn't want to be there at all. He spent the evening staring at the table and picking at his food. Christine was tense too, perhaps they had a fight?

Eventually, the crew all joined him at the table with their trays. The mood was low, they always had these undertones when they usually came back from shore leave but this time everything felt heavier. 

Jim sighed and looked up to see his friends staring at him. They knew how he felt.

"Well, that went well," Sulu said into his coffee.

Spock went to comment that it was, in fact, the opposite but was stopped when Jim told him Sulu was being sarcastic. Someone made an anecdote. Christine joined the table and dropped her head onto one hand as she sipped her tea. 

They were getting relaxed, forgetting how bad their shore leave was and at least enjoying the last night before they went back to work.

This all shattered when Leonard walked in. He hadn't cleaned up his image too much, the only change was his clothes. 

Jim stood up and pushed his chair back with his calves, "You have a lot of nerve coming here,"

"To the mess hall?"

"To this mess hall." Jim walked to face him dead on and plucked the cup of coffee out his hand. "There are plenty of others you could have gone to,"

Leonard rubbed his forehead, "Okay, you want me to go, I'll go!" 

They all watched him head towards the door, sharing a collective gulp when he turned on his heel. He stormed up to Jim and pushed him across the room.

"No, you know what, I'm not gonna leave,"

"Oh yeah, have you gone blind too as well as ignorant? No one wants you here," Jim spat. "Just leave, stop pretending you care, we know you don't," 

Leonard scanned the room and stepped back. He looked at Chekov, Spock and stopped at Christine. They had a whole conversation in a single look, her sadness traded for anxiety.

"You know, Jim, I think you've forgotten that relationships go both ways." He stepped toward him. "You're the one who sabotaged our relationship, to begin with!"

"Really how?" He taunted him closer.

"By spending every hour of every day with that--" He pointed at Spock. "That green-blooded hobgo--"

Smack!

Leonard dropped to the floor, eyes watering and mixing with the blood running from his broken nose. Jim pulled him to his feet by his collar, his knuckles were shaded red.

"Apologise," He grumbled and pointed towards Spock. "There was no need to be xenophobic."

He let him go and watched him stumble slightly on his feet. Finally, his eyes sparked with something. His hands shook, yet he didn't shy away. Jim could almost say his anger had simmered slightly, but only slightly.

"Spock, I'm sorry," He said, forcing himself to look him in the eye. "That probably hurt and my anger is directed towards Jim, I shouldn't've brought you into it and I especially shouldn't've been xenophobic, I'm sorry,"

Spock stared for a moment, raised an eyebrow and took a sip of green tea. "I forgive you, but ensure you don't do it again," 

He nodded and turned back to Jim. "Look what I said there, apart from the xenophobia obviously, still stands. You want someone to blame all your hurt from this break-up, so to speak, on someone, so who better than the guy you're no longer friends with?"

"Just go, I think you've said enough today--" Jim placed his head in his hands and gestured towards the door.

Leonard scanned the room then left in the same flurry as he entered.

Christine hopped up from her chair and squinted at Jim. She ripped his hand from underneath his head and said, "What the hell was that?"

"An argument,"

She rolled her eyes and followed him as he went back to his chair.

"I thought you two had had an argument anyway, why are you so mad?" 

She looked down and rubbed her arm, "We broke up actually," She continued when she saw Jim perk up. "But not for malicious reasons, I still care about him, not that any of this is your businesses anyway, Captain,"

Jim said nothing as she turned to chase Leonard down the corridor. 

His pace was fast, anger steaming off him still. Part of her was regretting the breakup, he wasn't taking this as well as she'd wanted. But then she remembered the slight loneliness she'd felt during the last few months and knew she'd done the right thing.

"Hey, are you doing alright?"

He stopped and turned to face her, "What d'you think?"

She reached for his arm, he drew it away. Tension ebbed its way in as she lifted his head. Rough skin bristled her hand, he hadn't shaved in days. She could sense him pulling away and every fibre of her being screamed for her to pull him in and kiss away the empty caverns of his eyes.

"Talk to me, I'm here," She said. "We may have broken up but I'm still here for you,"

He pulled away, "Stop saying that,"

"Why?"

"Because I know it's not true--" He furthered the distance between them. "You said that when you left me and you're saying it now even though I know it's a lie, a lie to make yourself feel better when you know you're abandoning me,"

"Didn't you hear what I said at all? I still want to be here for you, I still love you, it's just that now isn't the right time,"

"Not the right time? That's a cheap excuse," He scoffed. "I know the real reason,"

"Oh yeah, what is it?" She crossed her arms.

"Well, you know how you're always going on and on about how the people who should've been there for you in your life weren't?"

"Your parents, Roger," He continued. "Well, I've got some news for you,"

She felt tears pricking up in her eyes, he didn't mention those people because she didn't have anything to say about them. Her parents left her with her aunt. Roger conveniently had to 'do more research into androids' when things got tough.

He stepped closer. His breath roaring out like a furious bull. "You finally picked up some of their tricks."

Tears poured over onto her cheeks, makeup running with it. She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. 

Why would he say that? Why would he say that?

She wanted to chase after him down the corridor as he stalked away. Break her Hippocratic oath and hit him until he realised how much he'd hurt her. 

But she also remembered her psychological training and knew deep down that this was a defence mechanism. A way to push her away while he fell deeper and deeper under the waves of whatever was going on inside.

She didn't care though. None of that mattered because he mattered to her and shouldn't've done that. She knew he was a human being who was just suffering but she was one too.

Her feet carried her to Nyota's. Now on autopilot, a thick fog filled her head as she saw the door open and was pulled inside.

Chapter Text

The meeting was almost over. Spock sat down after saying his piece on the climate and biology of the planet and species. The crew sat bored around them, the pre-mission talk going on long like it always did for diplomatic missions. They couldn't go unprepared, there had been too many crises caused by assumptions, crises that could've been avoided.

Jim smiled at him and replaced him at the head of the table. He swiped his hand and the last few slides showed as he watched the crew try to sit up in their seats in an attempt to force more energy into their systems.

Luckily, the meeting ended shortly afterwards and they all filed out with few questions and a heightened spirit. It was Sulu's birthday today, and a major party had been planned. Nothing too elaborate due to the major mission the next day, but enough to call it a celebration.

Things had improved over the last few months. The crew were happier, missions went accordingly and the Enterprise was working like a well-oiled machine, and he knew the reason why. Leonard McCoy was in a better mood.

Jim had heard of the argument between him and Christine that followed theirs. He'd also seen her shaky hands when he'd entered sickbay.

Perhaps it was this that had made him change. The change had been a positive one, not so much that he was back again, but still positive nonetheless. He was polite to everyone now, didn't bite out his patients for missing an appointment or lecture Jim for hours for getting hurt and not telling him. There had been no further arguments, no conflict or showing up late. 

In every way, he seemed to have gotten better. Their fight must have been the wake-up call he desperately needed. 

One thing didn't sit right with him, though. This man, the man he'd shared so much trauma with, the one person who cared for everyone even if he was too terrified to show it, the man who took them all on because he wasn't going to lose another family, had just stopped caring. He was civil, sure, shared jokes and even checked upon them. But something felt different. 

Something was different. All his interactions with them were surface level, there was no depth or outside arrangements. They'd gone from family to colleagues. And Jim was only half sure this was a good thing. 

"Captain," There he was now. "I have a request about tomorrow's away mission,"

"Go ahead, Doctor,"

"I need to be transferred off the team,"

Jim raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"It's a personal reason, sir,"

He winced at the formality, had they really drifted that far away?

"Well, since we're not close anymore, I can't give you the benefit of the doubt,"

"I can't tell you, is there another way I can prove to you?" Leonard said and squirmed.

He racked his brain for a moment and replied, "Okay, apologise to your friends at Sulu's party, to Christine, to M'Benga, to me, to all your friends that you're so hell-bent on pushing away--" He looked away for a moment. "I miss you, Bones, okay? I miss talking for hours and you and Spock debating and you and Scotty being the parents of the Enterprise,"

Leonard lowered his head, letting himself sniffle before collecting himself, "Things change, Jim, we have three months left of the five-year mission,"

"That doesn't mean you have to cut off all communication,"

"I've found my place in the world, the universe again, I've tried to make my peace with my past," He said. "You didn't think I'd stay in Starfleet after this, did you?"

"Maybe," He looked down as tears sprung in his eyes. "We're meant to be your family,"

"Well, if you're out in the middle of deep space and I'm on Earth, there's no chance we're going to stay close, especially since we can't do it now and we're on the same ship," 

"Don't speak too soon, if you apologise tonight then things might change," Jim said, doing nothing to hide the desperation in his voice.

Leonard nodded and walked away, Jim's legs gave way beneath him as he let out a sob he never realised he needed to let out. 

"Doctor? Doctor?" 

Chekov knocked on the door again. 

"Doctor, are you in there?" He stopped and listened. "I thought you were coming to Sulu's party, and it started thirty minutes ago,"

He knocked and pressed his ear to the door, trying to stop his breathing. 

"Doctor, we could go together, I think it still counts as fashionably late?" 

He sighed and prepared his hand to knock another time when the door swooped open. 

"Doctor, you're not ready!" Chekov exclaimed and pushed past him to enter the room. "That doesn't matter, I vill help you,"

"Look, kid, I appreciate you coming here but you don't have to, I've done wrong by everyone and pushed everyone away, why are you here?" The Doctor replied in a deep and grumbled tone.

"Vell, I didn't have many friends for most of my life so I vant to keep as many as I can," 

He smiled slightly and watched him walk towards the closet. Chekov stopped momentarily when he saw the hypospray on the desk.

"What's that for?" He said, pointing to the hypospray.

"Oh nothing, just got a bit of a headache--" Leonard smiled again and picked it up, hurrying to the bathroom and shoving it into a cupboard.

Chekov nodded slowly and shrugged, that was probably why he'd been avoiding getting ready for the party. 

Leonard stepped closer to the open closet and watched as Chekov threw shirt after shirt onto the floor. The pile grew considerably in size before Chekov stated, "Why do you have so many patterned shirts?" He squinted as he noticed a basket on the shelf above the rack. "And are those ascots,"

"Hey, don't make fun o'my fashion,"

"It's not bad," He said, taking a red shirt with palm leaves and parrots on out of the closet. "You just make it wery obvious that you are a dad,"

"A dad?"

"Yes, for many, many years there has been a stereotype for dad's to wear shirts like this--" He held it up to him. "Yes, this will vork,"

As he slammed the shirts back into the closet, he found a brown leather jacket and matching trousers and threw them at Leonard, who stumbled into the bathroom to get changed.

He exhaled and scanned the room as he waited. Piles of clothes sat near the laundry shoot, mugs on his desk on the shelves enclosed his bed. A holo picture on the desk was overturned and a still, stuffy smell filled the air. 

He could practically hear his mother's voice in his head, this is no place to live, it's a mess that needs to be sorted. No sounds came from the bathroom, Leonard showed no signs of being ready yet. He picked up the pile of clothes and pushed it down the shoot. He tidied the mugs and turned the ventilation higher. Almost about to walk away, he noticed the overturned picture on the desk where he'd cleaned. 

He waited for a moment, no sound, then picked up the picture. It flickered and flashed in his hand as he sighed. The picture was of them, their friends, outside a random bar during the year they'd had off.

That year had gone so fast. Most of it was spent in an office working on code, studying more for his engineering qualifications or having meetings with Uhura about their language learning platform.

Part of his heart panged when he saw the look on Leonard's face. He was smiling. A true, happy smile, not like the fake ones he gave everyone nowadays. 

"Right, does this look goo--" Leonard emerged from the bathroom and spun in his new outfit. He stopped for a moment, his eyes locked onto the photo in Chekov's hand. "You tidied up."

Pavel nodded, "Yes, I thought it could help, and I found this picture--" He held it up to him.

Leonard sighed and shook his head, he plucked the picture from his hand and placed it back on the desk face down. He must have sensed that he was going to say something, because he muttered, "Let's get going," and indicated towards the door, heading off to the party.

The party was almost over, Jim hung onto Spock's arm a little tighter than usual. He wanted to head in for the night, fatigue was flooding his veins. All he needed to do was say goodnight to Sulu, it was his birthday after all.

He'd had a good time, he thought as he hugged Hikaru and exited the room. Spock pulled him up as he teetered on his feet. Drinking clearly didn't agree with him as much as it did when he was younger.

Just as they reached a split in the corridor, they saw Leonard McCoy standing against the wall. His eyes were shut and a whisky glass a bit too full sat in his hand.

Jim's stomach dropped.

Bones never drank alone if he could help it. It was his way to make sure he didn't slip into the alcoholism that would've been too easy after his Dad died and the divorce happened. There hadn't been many times when he'd caught him drinking alone and all of them had been due to a serious incident or shock to his system. 

He didn't notice him as he tugged on Spock's arm in his direction and still didn't acknowledge their presence when Jim said, "Did something happen tonight? Because you never drink alone,"

"No."

"Really? I have a hard time believing that,"

Leonard rolled his eyes, "Well believe it, Captain,"

Jim rubbed his fingers into his eyes until swirls appeared behind his eyelids. He was hoping something had happened because then he'd have an excuse for Bones lacklustre apologies. He'd also have a reason to cling onto him for a bit longer. 

"So nothing happened? Nothing! Because that's true then what the fuck were those apologies?" Jim cried, separating his and Spock's arms.

"They were apologies, Captain--" He shifted his eyes towards them. "And you should watch your words, it's very unprofessional to use expletives when you're a Captain,"

"You're telling the truth, you're actually telling the truth,"

"Why are you having such a hard time understanding that? You're the one who's obsessively trying to find a deeper meaning to the fact that we're not friends anymore. You're the one who forced me to apologise just so I can be off the away team, even though you'd give any other officer the benefit of the doubt. Why am I different, Jim, why?"

"Because you're the one who can't be bothered anymore even though you never stop caring about anyone and you keep insisting on keeping the truth from me!" He snapped. "How can I give you the benefit of the doubt, professional or personal, when you're always lying to me?"

Leonard let go of the glass and let it shatter on the floor. The shards blunted as they swam in the amber fluid. His nostrils flared and his hands clenched, face and skin tinted a light shade of red as he tried to regulate his anger.

After a few deep breaths, he managed to say in a calm tone, "Because I'm not lying to you, Jim. Like I said to you in the meeting room, this mission ends in three months and I don't want to stay in Starfleet. I've had enough space for a lifetime and I'm getting sick of being stuck out here where there's constant life-threatening danger on a ship filled with wannabe diplomatic idealists who just want to fulfil their adrenaline junkie needs."

He looked at him through his lashes and took one deep heave, "I'm done with Starfleet, and I think I have been for a while. Humans don't deal with being trapped in a career on Earth well, let alone in deep space. It's been a great ride but I'm leaving, and there's no point rekindling relationships that aren't going to last a month once I'm gone,"

Jim opened his mouth and shut it. All words had escaped him. The only thing his mind could provide was the immense knowledge that another person who was meant to be with him forever, care for him forever, was abandoning him. 

Leonard turned around and said one last thing before leaving for his quarters, "I'll say it now. Goodbye, Jim, I've loved the ride but now I have to get off,"

Chapter Text

The rock around them was glossy and smooth. Bumps had formed over millions of years just to make the cabernet they were standing in. Spock's science crew milled around taking samples and scanning their surroundings.

Spock himself was posed nearer to the pathway at the far end of the chamber, holding a vial of water to the light leaking through a hole in the roof. He was majestic. His hand was on his hip, eyebrow cocked as he turned his head to one side. He was in his thinking pose.

Uhura was having a difficult conversation with the locals. She'd insisted on coming along when she'd heard the language was almost a combination of Andorian and a dialect of Romulan.

The species themselves were reserved in nature, giving everyone a look like they were psychoanalysing every word they spoke, something Jim was forcing himself to work past. They were famous around the galaxy for being the leaders in mental health care, helping to influence the many Federation laws about the subject despite only joining recently.

That was something peculiar. Their habits about their subject could be traced across the whole galaxy yet this species seemed relatively new. The parts of their culture that had been preserved couldn't be more than three hundred years old. 

The ship's anthropologist was having a field day trying to piece this species' history together. From what he'd heard, they appeared to have lived above ground for far longer than was recorded. But every source they'd found showed that they had only ever lived underground.

"Captain Kirk," The leader said and turned away from Uhura. "We have one piece of information we wish to inform you about before diplomatic negotiations begin,"

"Information? What about?"

"Your team will be put through a series of tests through the next few chambers,"

"Can you elaborate?" He tried not to put too much of his panic into his words.

"You will be separated, analysed and put through one test to fully complete our picture of your mind,"

"I'm not sure I'm okay with you putting my crew through that," Jim said, looking around as they gathered in a group beside him. "Is this stage entirely necessary for diplomatic talks to be engaged?"

"Unfortunately, yes," One said.

"We assure you, Captain, it's completely safe," Said another with a strange glint in their eye.

"Fine, but if anything happens to my crew I will be mentioning it to Starfleet in my report,"

The species led the crew out of the cavern. Jim stood near the back with Spock, the anthropologist and a few ensigns. In front, he saw Dr McCoy standing ever so slightly out of the line. 

If Jim was a psychologist he'd probably say it was a reflection of how he pushed everyone away. But he wasn't, so he didn't.

The cavern split into chambers. Darkness encompassed them as the luminescent fibres of their uniforms glowed. Jim thought he saw the beings vanish, and after blinking a few times and rubbing his eyes he realised they did.

"Right, everybody stay together and we'll be able to get out saf-" He stopped.

Half the crew had also vanished. Had the species also taken them? He should've asked where specifically the tests were taking place.

"I do agree with you Captain but there is nothing we can do to aid the situation but carry on forwards," Spock said.

Jim calmed and linked their arms together, chuckling to himself when he saw Spock's eyes reflecting the lights shining from their uniforms, a remnant from the Vulcans feline ancestors.

The ensigns around him, before they'd all been separated, were still there. He knew he should say something but couldn't find the words. As Spock said, all they could do is walk on and hope for it to be over soon. 

The final chamber was in sight. The last of the three ensigns left alive was hanging off his shoulder. Drips of water and panting breath filled the echoing silence left by their fear of speaking.

Spock had been challenged first, probably to get their strongest contender out of the way. He'd lost his control bit by bit as they made their way through the corridors that looked far too familiar. From the little Jim heard through their bond, his mother's voice was all he could hear. And they both knew of the horrendous guilt he still held with her death.

The ensigns had been next. Jim had been surprised, they could've taken him out and really punished the youths but now, in hindsight, watching them scream and writhe as all their limits were challenged. 

For him it was subtle. Hunger ached, slow and gradual. Dizziness was still holding him back slightly and Frank's words were everywhere he turned. 

Although only three of them were left, he felt a dull sense of achievement that they'd gotten to the end of their games, just so he could return home to the Enterprise. He wasn't going along with this mission. Not after innocent blood had been spilt.

His crew stood in the chamber when they arrived. He mentally counted them all, eight were dead. The rest sat in groups, silent and sombre. 

Yet just after he went to place the Ensign on the floor a realisation hit him. Doctor McCoy wasn't here. 

No. No-no-no. He couldn't be dead. That man was the most resilient he knew, especially when it came to mental anguish. He thought, counting again and again but still getting the same answer. 

Had eight people turned to nine? He didn't want it to be true, despite all their arguments and the breakdown of their friendship he didn't want him to die. 

Leonard sprinted around the corner, breathless. His skin was pale and a sheen of sweat covered him. He scanned around the cavern and shuffled to each person with a cut or a bruise, ripping shirts and applying the few hypo capsules he had left. 

Jim walked over to him, "You okay, Doctor?"

"Fine."

His eyes disagreed. A stormy, translucent film covered them while a blank flat ocean lay beneath. He milled around the cavern, not saying anything to Jim as he followed him. 

Something about this was off-putting. For months now he'd been hostile, pushing people away. It was only until now that he'd mellowed and withdrew from everything. It wasn't like he could berate him lately, all his work was completed he was taking on more. His manner was calm around staff and, in some ways, had improved since before everything went wrong. 

"Are you sure of that?" He tried again.

"Completely, let me check you over--" He tugged him over to where Spock sat and hovered his tricorder over both of them. "No physical effects for either of you, but I'm making everyone an appointment with one of the ship's therapists, I'll COMM you your appointments,"

"Are you booking yourself in?" 

He looked down at his tricorder, "Of course,"

Jim didn't believe him for a second and shook his head as he watched him walk to the opposite side of the cavern. He closed his eyes, folded his arms against his chest and brought his knees up to his chest. From far away he looked ill like he was weathering a storm or incubating something nasty. 

The species entered the cavern through one of the small corridors to his left. Jim rose to his feet in a flash and crossed the cavern. 

"This deal is off if that's your idea of a diplomat discussion, of testing if this is the right government to join, of testing people to explore different minds then you're not the right people for the Federation," 

"How do you have enough knowledge of an entire governmental organisation to declare us unfit?" Their tone was still calm and with every syllable, his anger was rising.

"No, no more of your mind games, have you heard of testing ethics? You have to follow them during this kinda stuff to make sure that people don't get hurt as they did," He grabbed his communicator. "Scotty beam us up, take the ensigns first, bring me and Spock up last,"

The tingling sounds of the transporter echoed around him as he kept eye contact with them. It wasn't too long before he too was being zoomed away up to the ship.

"That ended quickly," Scotty said with a smile.

"Yeah, no deal," He stepped off the transporter and saw Leonard exhale deeply, his face paler and he shuffled off towards sickbay. "They basically used all the crew for psychological testing by somehow getting in everyone's heads and making them experience their worst memories in some capacity,"

"Oh, shit," 

"Yeah, shit indeed, so if any of your engineers seem off-"

"I'll give them the shift off, of course, how are you faring, Captain?" 

Scotty was one of the best for understanding what Jim needed. He'd always been loyal, his only time away being when Khan had come in and messed everything up.

"I'll be fine, Dr McCoy got everyone booked into therapy sessions, however many they need, and I'll probably meditate with Spock tonight," He rubbed his face and noticed the sweat on his brow.

"Well, I'm always here," He smiled again.

"I think you should focus on Uhura, she was pretty messed up too," 

Scotty nodded and walked with him to the door where they separated, him going to the engineer's deck, Jim to the bridge. 

Just as he reached the turbolift, he could've sworn he saw McCoy sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. But he threw it off as the remnants of mind games and stepped onto the bridge and collapsed into his seat, surrounded by glum faces.

Chapter Text

Captains log. Stardate 2266.12

It's the last week of the five year mission, a fact I cannot believe has arrived so quickly and so slowly at the same time. 

The few away-missions we've been on since Velaus have gone successfully, almost like a message has gone out to the universe to give our mission a peaceful send off. 

As much as I'm sad about the mission ending, there is an exciting prospect about what I might be offered next. Luckily this feeling is being shared by my crew mates.

Mr Chekov is telling me of an engineering position he's secured thanks to the recommendations of myself and Mr Scott. Miss Uhura has spent the past few months making plans for a six month long mission across space more focused on the languages we've encountered.

One of the few surprises has been Doctor McCoy's sudden eagerness to become close again. I would be just as eager to rekindle the flame, so to speak, but every apology and conversation seems tainted and fake. He's smiling more than I've ever seen him and everything he's done wrong has been corrected without question. It's almost like someone's helping him.

Yet that seems so insignificant. We've grown so far apart that this new revelation isn't making me jump for joy, I'm getting more annoyed than anything. He can't seem to make up his mind about if he wants us in his life. 

This mission is going out with less of a bang and more simmering out until we reach the starbase yet he seems determined to make more drama that we don't need. These last few days have been calm and he wants to shake us up when everyone is feeling burnt out and doesn't have the patience for his games anymore. 

That's not entirely true. Something has been riling us up now that our missions are going correctly. Someone is trying to hijack the ship.

It's been occurring for one month, the first event happening just four days after Velaus. It started with the hacking replicators and COMM systems.

Something that Mr Spock pointed out during a meeting a week later was the fact that the only systems being hijacked are the ones every crew member has access to in some shape or form. We hypothesised that the next systems to be changed were the sonic shower systems and the air controls, so far only the shower systems have been attacked.

But, whoever is coordinating these attacks is adapting. They're not using the same access computers and there's no pattern to which systems they use.

We do have a plan to catch them. Tomorrow is a simple day of star charting, so we'll sit and wait for the culprit to arrive. We are cutting the time short but, again, Spock's logic is that if they want to affect all crewmembers, they must be getting desperate to complete their plan, so we'll be able to catch them without too much of a wait to get to the next Starbase.

I will update the log after the plan has been completed.

Kirk out.

The bridge was quiet. All extra personnel had been sent away. Extra security was on every door, Chekov was watching the access systems, Uhura had been silent since the plan went into action.

Anytime a signal went through everyone jumped, heads turning to look at each other with anticipation in their eyes. But nothing had come up yet.

Jim could feel his motivation draining from him. They were skipping hours of work for this and had yielded nothing. He wanted this to end but still hesitated for a conclusion. There had been similar events of potential sabotage before but the fact that this had gone on so long made a deep pit in his stomach. 

"Captain, one of the COMM systems has been accessed," Uhura said.

"Can we get a visual?" 

"Negative, activity has stopped,"

He stroked his chin, "Which access point was it?"

"The public use one on deck three," 

"Contact the security officers on that deck, tell them to raise their guard," He said.

Everyone went to sit back in their chairs, a new sense of defeat thickening in the air when Chekov shouted, "Captain, a computer access point has been hacked, my console shows it's the one next to the turbolift," 

"The two security officers outside the turbolift aren't responding, Captain," Uhura stated. "Turbolift now in use,"

Jim rose from his chair and grabbed his phaser, a few more officers following suit. "Can anyone get a visual?"

"Working on it, Captain," Chekov said.

He could hear his breath in his ears. Whoever was in that lift was threatening his ship, and therefore his crew. They needed to be on the Brig and he needed this mission to fizzle out calmly just like his younger self would've hated. This last year had really tested his patience in ways he didn't know it could be.

"Do you have a visual, Mr. Chekov?"

"Yes," His voice was quiet. The entire bridge looked at him with hungry eyes but the words couldn't come out.

Sulu looked at the screen for him and his eyes widened, "You're not going to like it, Captain."

"I'll be the judge of that, who is it?"

He visibly gulped and turned in his chair, looking Jim dead in the eyes and said, "It's Doctor McCoy."

Chapter Text

He stepped out of the shower and gave a deep, almost thunderous sigh. Did he dare take a peak in the mirror? He knew what he'd see. A dull face covered in spots, sunken eyes shaded with purple, hair unkempt and frizzy.

With a knotted feeling in his chest, he held his breath and looked at what he was. 

He looked awful, dry skin, dry hair. A thin layer of stubble covered his jaw, he glanced at the razor on the sink and shook his head. He should shave, but knew he wouldn't. 

It did perplex him, yet it didn't too. Everyday he spent healing and caring, cutting open and closing the wounds in surgery, stabbing with hypos and asking questions. His facade was faultless. 

But that was all it was. A facade. At home he had no strength. If something went wrong he never had the power to get back up, if he did it was a miracle. 

Christine was beginning to notice too and he wasn't sure what he thought about that. For so long he'd been silently, or more accurately in secret, begging any higher power for someone to notice and help him to function. And now he had it, the eternal devil's advocate inside of him was wishing it away. 

Was she doing it out of pity? He tried to tell himself no, but the voice was still there. Echoing. Louder than the positive one telling him to carry on. That positive one had been getting quieter and quieter in the past few months. 

He saw his hands shaking on the sink, his knuckles white from trying to stop himself crumbling on the floor like he so desperately wanted to. It was all happening again. He was getting bad again and every part of him wanted to scream and yell and cry and throw things and do anything not to sink into the void. 

It was all inevitable, though. He'd sink so far in that he'll stop feeling all together. 

This wasn't meant to happen. He was meant to go to space and find himself, find happiness in the shining lights of the stars. But here he was again. Dull and icky just like before. 

He didn't even have a reason this time. At least last time he'd just said goodbye to, no killed, his dad. This time it was because of what? The mission ending and the possibility of losing everything he'd worked so hard to get? Pathetic.

In the murky ocean there was a voice calling him. A promise of hope in the uncertainty. There was a comfort to the nothingness. Nothing could hurt him. But more importantly, at least he was returning to and retaining something he once knew. At least if he lost his friends, his job and his girlfriend he'd have the warm sinking feeling to fall back into.

He smiled. He was sick. He should want to get better but he didn't. What kind of doctor was he if he couldn't even make himself better?

He shook his head and walked out of the bathroom. Don't think about that. It only gets worse if you think about it. Just don't and it'll go away.

Christine sat on the bed, her posture perfect in her silk pyjamas. 

He jumped at her presence. The voice in the back of his head, that was coming to the forefront more and more each day, repeated that he was a bad boyfriend. How could he jump at her? He was meant to love her, not be afraid.

She hopped off the bed and handed him a coffee. The steam swirled up, the scent of coffee making his eyes widen. After placing a simple kiss on his cheek she lifted his lowered head and gazed into his eyes.

His heart fluttered as his shoulders tensed. His facade was still down. She couldn't see him like this, she couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't. 

He grumbled and let her take him to the bed. Her hands were smooth in his, all he wanted to do was collapse into her. She was always so soft and smooth. Perfect for cuddling.

They molded into each other like always. He wanted to stroke her hair, pull her further onto him and caress her face, make sure she still loved him. 

But the energy didn't come. He let himself sink further down into pillows, further away from the man he wanted to be. The holo in the background gave enough white noise that the darker parts of his subconscious went silent. 

His hand, that had been instinctively rubbing the small of her back, dropped as he sat up. Concern was laced through her skin. He went to pull her close again but she shuffled away.

"Can we talk?" 

He hated that phrase. It always meant something was going wrong, he was going wrong. He knew this of course but there was something about her actually saying something he'd been fearing for weeks that was putting the fear of god into him.

He managed to nod. His throat closing up and neck drawing tight. The flicking skin of his fingers acted as a good way to ground him.

"I’ve gone through this in my head, and I‘ve talked about it with Nyota, and I’ve come to the, perhaps obvious, conclusion that we need to talk about this," She said.

She'd talked to Uhura about this? Was it really that bad that she couldn't talk to him straight away?

He managed to draw up the energy to speak. "Okay,"

She took his worn hands and the internal whirlwind calmed slightly. They sat quietly for a while. Neither of them wanted to speak. Maybe they'd stay like this forever, in silence because it was easier to do than face their issues.

"I don’t feel like you’re giving me anything lately, emotionally speaking,"

There it was. She'd noticed. And that meant he had to explain himself to her and promise to do better. He did want to, he knew that, but there was so little energy left that he could barely care for himself, let alone for someone else.

Shit. That's the first time he'd thought that. He felt his eyes widen too. If he was thinking like that then they'd be breaking up soon. He wanted her around too. But knowing his history it was inevitable.

He could feel his throat closing up again, he cleared his throat, "How do you mean?"

“We don’t do anything couple-y anymore, and I know this is partially because we’re past the honeymoon phase now, but it’s not the same,” She said. “I’m trying to do small romantic things that you like, hugging you every morning, holding your hand when we eat, giving you massages. But you don’t want it, you have no interest in anything I try, and, a girl feels a little down when her partner doesn’t want anything she gives,”

This wasn't going well. All control he had over his hands stopped and they tremored gradually. Tears sprung in his eyes as part of his facade dissolved. 

Luckily, it didn't all melt away. His subconscious had needed a defense for so long, to protect people from the nightmarish burning ick that was his depression, that he couldn't lower it subconsciously anymore. He'd relied on it more and more that it didn't hurt to hide part of himself. In an ironic way it was like the three-in-one stuff he kept in his shower. A crutch to keep some sense of normality that still reminded him of how bad he was doing.

"Darn, I-I’m sorry, I can try better, no, I will be better! I just thought that if I do stuff for you, you know, make your tea how you like it, get the shower running when I know you’ve had a hard day, letting you pick the holo, tidying up your desk, then it wouldn’t matter about me," 

He looked up at her again, "And I know you’re going to talk about the bedroom too, but I’m not feeling too into doing stuff for me right now, so I thought that if I just pleasured you then it would even things out,”

In one smooth motion she ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him onto her shoulder. He lent into the touch and let himself dig deeper. 

A stupid part of him wished this would cure him. The light whisper of her words, the soft touch of her skin and love in her heart. 

It wouldn't. Unfortunately.

After lying down on the bed she said, "Honey, didn’t it cross your mind that I want to make you feel good, that you deserve affection just like everyone else,” 

His throat closed up again, all that came out was a grunt. He didn't want to tell her. The burning fear that she wouldn't understand scorched him.  What if she brushed him off? 

He tried to tell himself otherwise. This was Christine he was on about. The wonderful, bright, sunny woman who was his girlfriend. She wouldn't brush this off.

But he couldn't shake the misconception that she would anyway.

"What happened? I can feel you fading, and I don’t want you to feel pressured to open up about everything, you’ll do that when you’re ready. But it scares me how easily you’re hiding away and how okay you are with not talking at all," 

He blinked hard as his body shook harsher. Why couldn't he just tell her what was wrong? 

His forehead clogged with sweat, it wiped off on her shoulder. His breath quickened. This needed to be over. He was begging for it to be. He didn't want to go through this again when the road to recovery was so long and far away. 

She pulled him up and looked him directly in the eye. Holding his hands, they lifted them together, up and down, breathing in and out. 

His dizzy head stopped spinning. Her hands were smooth under his as she stroked them, shushing him as the atmosphere went warm and calm. 

He pulled away once his breathing calmed, "Thank you for being patient, I don't want to seem like I was trying to avoid this conversation,"

"It's okay, do you feel comfortable telling me what's going on" She replied.

His mind raced again, an ever going rollercoaster that never ended. Now he'd have to come up with an excuse because he knew he didn't have the energy to tell her what was truly wrong with him. It would take far too long.

"I need a break, every time a crisis happens, I get so overwhelmed. When we have to reschedule every physical, shot update, check-up, surgery, all for the emergency, then we have to work double shifts to get everyone seen to. And after that's done, we have to do it all again. I’m so exhausted,” 

He flopped onto her shoulder again as spoke. “I need to write Jim a COMM,” He almost jolted up. “Only to talk about Shore Leave, we don’t need to tell him about this until you’re ready, okay?” 

He relaxed back down and closed his eyes. Her hand ran through his hair, rubbing and scratching his scalp. A deep grumble erupted from his throat as his eyes grew tired. 

Tonight's sleep was going to be deep, he could sense it, and with the warmth of her body and the strokes along his head and neck, his eyes drooped. His body went lax. And soon he was sound asleep.

Chapter Text

His head was spinning with the words on the page. Everything was wavering around him. The sounds of sickbay, patients shouting, the distant humming of the ship. Lord, he felt sick. 

Sickbay was overflowing with patients, the noise hit him in waves, knocking his head until he could barely see. That's why he was hiding in his office. The exact kind of doctor he'd always dreaded becoming. 

"Dr McCoy I have the latest test results,"

It was Geoffrey. No. He couldn't handle a conversation, not in this state, not now. 

"They're negative,"

'I don't care, I don't care.' He thought. 

Oh god. How could he not care? That was the best part of him, the best part of being a doctor. And now he was losing it.

"We need your advice, you are the CMO," His voice was getting tense, he was annoyed at him.

Rightly so.

He stood up and felt all the blood rush to his head. Those voices were gone, they were meant to be gone.  He didn't want them again. He didn't, he didn't, he didn't.

"Look, I know you've probably got the Captain on your ass about advice, and Starfleet, and reports to write but I need your help, we all do,"

His eyes snapped to the door. His feet naturally taking him to it. It opened with a swish against his face.

Geoffrey's eyes took in his doleful state and he wasn't sure if he wanted him to. He already knew he didn't want this conversation to happen. The idea of interacting with someone else added to everything else already draining the little life force remaining inside him.

"You look like hell," Geoffrey said, letting himself in.

"Thanks."

"What's going on with you?" 

Not that question. I hate that question. He thought. His body moving on autopilot, getting him on the edge of his desk and shuffling so Geoff could join.

"Huh? Nothing's going on,"

"I don't believe that for a second," 

All he could do was blink. Every ounce of energy powered his concentration, his ability to survive and maintain his front. Today was not a good day. Not that there were many good days anymore, more mediocre days. But out of all the grey, mediocre ones of his mental stability, today seemed the worst so far.

 "You stay in your office as long as you can, you're forgetting patients and procedures and you can't deny how much you've been procrastinating,"

He stopped blinking and forced himself to action. The energy he didn't have came from somewhere. Or as his theory went, was taken from the stores for later interactions.

"So? I've been slacking, big deal. You're acting like this is an unheard of, life-threatening thing,"

"We're both Doctors on a starship, Leonard, and you have psychology qualifications," He looked him in the eyes. "Don't pretend like these aren't symptoms of depression,"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This wasn't how it was meant to go. He wasn't depressed. Depression was drinking, nights on the couch and drowning in tears and guilt. Depression was trying to get better and redeem yourself but your wife being too hurt to love you again. Depression was denying that she was cheating on you. It was arguments, you breaking things and her hitting you. It was fake smiles to your daughter when you lie and say her mother's at work- not with whatever-his-name-is.

This couldn't be depression. He couldn't get better again. It took everything he had to recover, he knew he didn't have it now.

"Talk to me, please, I promise I won't judge,"

He needed to think of something. Maybe pluck something from the vague corners of his mind? 

M'Benga was a talented doctor, his mind tuned to his ticks and habits. He didn't want to lie, not to his friend, but his self-preservation said differently. 

"When we had that year off on earth, I worked in Starfleet Medical, not as the Chief Medical Officer or the Chief Surgeon or even the head of a department, I was just a surgery consultant, a senior doctor," The memory of relaxation during the year off came to him and he grasped onto it with both hands.

"I didn't have to sort out schedules for staff, or read over and write reports until my eyes were crossed, no away missions, no dangerous new situations or unknown diseases that make me want to pull my hair out, I could just go home,"

"I still stayed behind, obviously, I'm a doctor, not an office worker. But when I had long-running surgeries or emergency care, it never lasted another full shift, not like being the CMO did,"

"And I got used to it, and I enjoyed it. I got into the routine and the lower stress levels. So when I came back to the ship a year later, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be here after all," He stopped and looked at M'Benga.

Was that enough? God hoped it was.

"So you're doubting being the CMO? Are you saying you want to resign and be an average doctor again?" 

"I still want to be CMO," 

It was the only thing he had. Despite the stress, the blunders, the energy that depleted him longer and longer every day, it satisfied him to know that he could help people. It was one of the few sources of joy he could rely on. He hoped with everything he had that it wouldn't go away.

"That doesn't make sense," He hopped off the desk. "You just said you enjoyed the life of a regular doctor more than the role of CMO, how can that not mean you should resign?"

He hadn't thought of that. He'd needed a lie so quickly that he hadn't thought of contradictions or loopholes.

"I never said anything about resigning, all I said is that I'm taking a little longer than expected to adjust back to life as the CMO. Why would you think I want to resign? I love this job!"

Geoffrey scoffed, "Love it? You were just telling me how you're tired of it!"

"Because I'm burnt out, you're taking this way too far," 

A flare of rage erupted inside him. He couldn't take this away. He'd be nothing without it. Empty and floating in the abyss. 

Hit him. It won't matter in the grand scheme of things. Such a small action in the endless universe.

Not those thoughts again. They'd gone for so long but had appeared in the corners of his mind over the last few weeks. Edging nearer and nearer. Waiting for their moment to take him. He didn't know what would happen if he gave in. 

He needed a distraction, something to take the numb, sour taste from his mouth. The replicator blinked at him and his feet took him instinctively to it, like he hadn't only drunk coffee for days now. 

M'Benga stopped him. His grip was firm as he tried to shove him off. 

"How am I taking this too far? All I want is for sickbay, the place that I work in, to run smoothly. And that means having a CMO that enjoys the job and staff that are cared for and supported," 

He was right, he knew it. But he couldn't help but humour the strange train of thought. That, despite him slacking and hiding for weeks, this wasn't because of that. This was for something else.

Why would he bring up all of his faults now if his behaviour had been going on for weeks? Perhaps he wanted something else?

It seemed far fetched but he needed this to end. He could feel himself slipping through his fingers, falling through the cracks and tiptoeing into the abyss. Like water through a grate, tea through a filter. 

He knew it was far from true. But if it kept that mask up, how bad could it be? It'll just be another argument, he could handle this. He could.

"Oh, oh! I know what this is about, you want to take my job, don't you?"

"No! I'm happy being a senior medical officer, you're twisting this," 

"That's bullshit,"

"No! Everything you're telling me is bullshit," His face twisted into rage.

"How? I thought you told me you weren't going to judge me and now you're calling me a liar?"

"Yes, I am, I know when I'm being lied to and I don't like it, tell me the truth, Leonard," 

“I just did,” 

Geoffrey took a moment. His breathing went from sharp to smooth as he hid his eyes under his hands. 

Had he screwed this up? Maybe he should've just opened up? 

You can't do that. You're just making excuses for your incompetence. You should be able to handle this. Don't bother him with this. You'll be fine, you can handle this. You've done this alone before, you can do it again.

He could handle this. He'll just give him time to recover, apologise and they'll be back to normal. Every friendship had to be challenged now and again. 

Right?

“Look, all I want is for the medical staff to have a CMO that cares about them, a CMO who wants the job and is motivated because you clearly aren’t,” 

This was going worse than he thought. He needed to correct it. Yet just as he opened his mouth to speak, M'Benga cut him off.

"Don’t say you are, you just admitted to not wanting this job anymore and then you got offended when I suggested that you get a job that you’re happy with,”

“All you do is zone out, complain under your breath when you have to do work and sulk in your office, you don’t do anything to help us, the people who actually work when we’re in sickbay and I changed my shift schedule to try and help you out but you don’t even care about that. You never do any work and leave it all to us! And don’t say you’re doing reports when I know you’ve been staring at the same one for over a week now,”

His mind started disconnecting. Fully falling through the cracks and letting him freefall. He felt his heart beat faster and his hand started to shake, sweat clamming them up. How had he got it so wrong?

“Get your act together, McCoy, decide what you want because I can’t do that for you, and maybe then I’ll think about being friends with you again. But until then, you’re just my colleague and my superior,” Geoffrey stopped and noticed his hands, lowering his volume. “Now, look at all the tests results and give me an answer or we’re going to lose people,”

He left the room, left Leonard shaking alone in his office. The test results were on the table but he couldn't reach them. 

This is how it started before. He couldn't do this again. Lose everything he had, especially when he had so much less than last time, and it meant so much to him now. 

The tears that escaped felt hot on his cheeks. They quivered full of emotion, everything that had been pent up for so long. He had to get a lid on it, or he wouldn't ever move again, wouldn't speak or eat or breathe.

Despite his body turning to concrete, he broke free and reached for the results and sat on his desk to read them through the tears. And after rereading two, three, four times, and pushing everything down again. He ran out of his office with an idea. And a fake smile on his face.

If he was going to put a mask on, he might as well make it seem like he was the complete opposite. Right?

Chapter Text

Leonard stood up from his place on the floor and ran a hand down his face. He needed to shave, he hadn’t been this stubbly since he met Jim. Beards did suit him, in fact he quite preferred having one, but the combination of Starfleet only allowing facial hair for religious reasons and the memories of his time with Jocelyn made him avoid them like the plague.

His hair needed a wash too. He couldn’t think exactly when he last had a shower and felt a somber wash of guilt rise up inside him, he’d missed his routine. And now he’d have to use the three-in-one stuff he kept at the back of the cupboard as a safety net.

It was there for a reason, for days like these when he had muted motivation for washing and fell off the bandwagon in his routine. But it still made him see how far he’d slipped back into, he didn’t want to touch that word, depression.

What would Christine say? He knew it could’ve just been a joke, avoiding people who use three-in-one stuff. But what if she saw him using it and left him. It was a warning sign of someone not coping. She was already a nurse, she shouldn’t have to permanently care for him in her free time.

He shook himself free of the spiral for a moment and walked to the bathroom. The shower loomed in the darkness, taunting the harsh voices in his head to sing and cry at him all their favourite phrases. 

You won’t go in there. You don’t deserve it, you’re worse than human anyway. You don’t have the energy to shower, just go back to bed and lie there. 

He shook his head again, running a hand through his hair. A greasy residue sat on his hand. Had it really been that long? People must’ve noticed, they were probably laughing behind his back. If anyone cared enough about him to talk.

The buzzer to his door went off and he let out a groan. Who could that be? He hadn’t forgotten something else, had he? 

It was plausible, he’d spent so long trying to motivate himself to get up and shower that all other engagements slipped through his fingers. 

He took a few deep breaths and weighed up the options. He could shower then catch up with the person, but would he have enough energy to talk after standing under the sonic stream for so long? He could talk to the person, but the question of energy reserves popped up in his head again.

The buzzer went off again and he went to the door, opening it and seeing the slightly startled faces of Jim and Spock. He didn’t bother putting up his mask too much, because Jim immediately spoke up.

"Do you know what time it is, Bones?" 

He shook his head.

"It's 20:03 hours, you were meant to meet us at 19:00 hours," 

Shit. This wasn’t the first time. He knew they’d be annoyed, missing so many weeks with pathetic excuses. He just couldn’t lose Jim, even if something deep down told him he was better off without the depressed mess he was turning into, even if he was holding him back through his overbearing nagging constantly.

"Jim, Spock, I didn't realise-"

"Didn't realise? It's the same time every week, how could you forget?" Jim shouted. "Oh wait, you do that a lot now, apparently, or at least that's what Dr M'Benga put in his official complaint,"

So he had taken it further. Leonard was hoping it would stay a squabble between friends, a rite of passage if you lived and worked so close by every day. But no. It was probably what he deserved, yet he couldn’t shift the flames of anger that sparked.

"Complaint? I thought this was about chess?" 

"It was about chess, the first few times you didn't show up, but now we're hearing staff talk about your attitude, and how you're not going on away missions or are a bit too bitter to be funny,"

Had it gotten that bad? He knew he was grumpier than usual but this was a whole new level. Usually he prided himself on his ability to bottle things up, keep all the pain on the downlow and put all he could into caring for others. The last thing he wanted was to infect others with his sourness.

His body complained as he took his weight off the door frame. He wasn’t going to shower today.

"Alright, I haven't been the best at work lately, is that what you came here to shout at me about?"

"No, you've got a meeting with us and Dr. M'Benga about that tomorrow to talk about work, at exactly 08:00 hours,"

Great. Use his being late against him and make the meeting early.

Fair play, M’Benga. He thought.

"Can't we make it a few minutes later?"

"No, this way you'll make sure not to be late, and besides, you're in no place to bargain right now," 

Leonard sighed, "Okay, fine, was that all?"

"No, our original question was about how you're avoiding our chess lessons like the plague," 

"I guess I'm not cut out for chess, you have to be logical and able to predict the future to be good at that and that's not my forte. But at least I tried to learn, isn't that worth something?" He said.

It was a pathetic excuse, like the others, but at least had a bit more substance than the past ones. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Chess was hard to learn, the main thing keeping him going was the time spent among friends. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve quit ages ago.

"I guess, but why couldn't you say something?" Jim said. "If you just didn't want to play then you would've told us, are you sure there's not another reason?"

He needed to think of something. Another lie. Another story to add to the web. He was losing track of what he’d told to who and knew it would come back to bite him in the end. 

He ran a hand through his hair and came up with one. It would break up their friendship. But the voices, the dark, inky voices, retreated when he followed their advice. His chest eased and the weight on his shoulders lessened. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all?

"I mean, there could be one,"

"Please, enlighten us," 

"Maybe I'm just sick of watching you two lovebirds ogle at each other while you're meant to be teaching me a dumb game, which by the way is definitely just a means to rid yourself of the guilt you're holding about not spending enough time with me," The talent he’d wished he didn’t have came into full effect. 

"You don't mean that," Jim’s voice was but a whisper.

"How do you know? It's not like you're even aware of anyone outside your fairytale enough to notice that you're just being dicks!" Flashes of his wife, the last year or so of being married, entered his head.

Jim stepped backwards into Spock's arms, body trembling. The sane part of him begged for him to stop. He was triggering Jim, something he’d never done before.

"Well? You're not going to fight back?" He smiled, sickly. "You've gone awfully quiet since I pointed all this out, it's almost like you know it's true,"

"Leonard, you're being irrational and making assumptions about things that you do not know, if you would let us answer with the promise of a calm response then we could settle the situation properly," Spock, ever the diplomat, said.

"Promise a calm response? Last time I checked you were the ones who knocked on my door screaming to me about discipline," If it wasn’t for them he could be functional right now, could’ve showered and may have even remembered the lesson and arrived late. "Now, unless you're going to apologise you can leave,"

"Apologise? You're the one making bold claims, we were just telling you the facts," Jim said.

The darker thoughts rose up again, but he wasn’t struggling under the waves anymore. A sick power shot through his veins. Adrenaline coursed through him, the echoes of past arguments in his ears.

"Go."

"Bones come on, I didn't want this to happen-" 

"Don't Bones me, go!" He dug deep and roared. "Fuck Off!"

The door closed behind him and he sunk to the floor. He couldn't believe he just did that, released that voice after years. He'd sworn never to use it again once the divorce had gone through but here he was again, slumped on the floor. His consciousness felt like losing control in a boat. 

No, don't think about boat right now, that'll only remind you of another time you messed up. All the memories were floating around in his head, pulling him down the different currents only to push him back into the present enough times that he felt sick.

Okay. Five things he can see.

His eyes darted around the room as his hands reached up and pulled at his hair. 

His bed. 

You going out all ours of the night was your problem, why is you trying to pretend it never happened suddenly mine? Jocelyn's words, from ten years ago, rang like a bell.

The bathroom door, his desk, empty cups of coffee and the picture of Joanna. 

You killed him, you killed Dad! Charlie, his sibling's, voice added to the roster of memories.

Four things he can feel, he could do this, it wasn't that hard. His hair, his dry face, his pants and, he reached downwards as he felt himself come back yet also fly away a bit further, the floor. 

Maybe I'm just upset that I've got a whore for a wife. The ancient sting of his wife's slap knocked him across the floor slightly.

Three things he can hear. The sounds around him were muted, so that he couldn't pick out a single one. He closed his eyes and concentrated. 

Laughter from the corridor, the hum of the lights and the swoosh of the turbolift. 

Daddy, why does Momma keep going away for work? 

Two things he can smell. The stale stench of depression and the waft of candle smoke. He'd tried to lighten the mood, even listened to some happy music as he swallowed on the floor. 

Doctor McCoy or Doctor Frankenstein? Read the article to find out how Starfleet's necromancer met the famous James T. Kirk. 

One thing he can taste. He was getting there. His mind swayed less as he carried on taking deep gulps of air. In and out, gentle and slow. He ran his tongue around his mouth and felt a faint taste of coffee and slumped back against the door.

His head throbbed as relished in his breathless feeling. He closed his eyes and let the tears escape. One of these days he'd run out of tears.

Jim's face replayed again and again as he blinked to rid himself of tears. He wouldn't forgive him for this, and Leonard didn't blame him. 

All his life had been filled with people breaking promises, defying their roles to hurt him and never trying in the first place. And Leonard had just become another in the pile.

He hiccuped, sobbing and sinking to the floor into a heap. All the pent up anxiety gone and replaced with guilt. He'd hurt someone else, even if he didn't mean to.

Maybe it was part of his blood. In his nature to hurt. Perhaps that's why he strived so hard not to hurt, to care for people, so he could right the inevitable wrongs.

The tears joined the snot as he closed his eyes. His headache throbbed harder and his body melted. The world slipped away to darkness as he lay crumpled on the floor.

In a puddle of his own sadness, again.

Chapter Text

He stepped out of the shower and shook his hair. The mist followed him as he returned to the bedroom and slid into the warm pyjamas left to him by the laundrobot. He hugged his middle and felt the inclination of happiness, or something close to it, resonate far away.

Today had been productive, alright day. Not too his past levels but the harsh thoughts were kept at bay. His hatred and fatigue still wallowed nearby but allowed some room for optimism deep within his psyche.

Perhaps it was because they'd mildly settled the issues between him and M'Benga. The meeting had been hard as his head drifted from worry to anger to nothing. But by the end they'd reached some level of common ground and vowed to keep things professional. Leonard still had yet to tell anyone of the true struggle.

All he wanted to do now was collapse for a while, maybe even eat properly? This day was turning out to be remarkable.

He couldn't think of a reason why as he ran through a list in his head. He hadn't exercised today or ate more than he had done, hadn't even seen his friends.

Well. He wasn't sure if he'd call them friends anymore.

The darker depths of his mind reached the positive feeling as he felt his body drain of the last morsels of energy left. There had been glimpses of Scotty's face, full of anger but little else. He knew why he was angry. To try and catch up on the work he'd missed, he'd filled his timetable with physicals, much to most of the crew's dismay.

He wasn't too proud of how he'd got them all onto his biobed. There had been whispers on the corridors. But shouting had become the new normal, so a little more wasn't too bad. 

He looked down with a frown. Why couldn't he just have a full day off from this inky emptiness?

His head snapped to the door as someone knocked. Goddamnit. Just let me wallow in peace. He thought, feeling his mask fall over him again as he got to the door. 

"Hiya, Spock," 

"Good evening, Leonard, how are you?" He said, showing no knowledge that he was interrupting his evening.

"Not too bad," 

He didn't dare get into it too much. All he wanted was for him to leave. His day had been good because he was on his own. The only person he felt he could be around was Christine. But she was working out tonight, so he had wholly prepared for a night alone. 

His hands found themselves naturally on his hips, like they always did when he was annoyed. He furrowed his brow as he watched Spock analyse him.

Annoyance bubbled inside him. Analysing usually meant the conversation wouldn't be a short one. He found himself pacing, sweat shining on his brow as he wished for him to leave.

He huffed and resided to his chair. Why did every day have to be fully draining?

"What can I do for you, Spock?" 

"I need to ask you some questions,"

"Can't this wait until the next shift?"

"These are of a personal matter," 

Shit. Was that why he was analysing him? He needed more time to prepare. Why did he have to push this on him now?

He saw Spock growing impatient. Was probably analysing him again, like some kind of science experiment. 

So he said. "Go on,"

"I would like to ask if your mental health is the reason for your current behaviour? Your actions, such as oversleeping, drawing away from friends, an irregular eating pattern, are symptoms of depression," Spock said. "I have also collected other information from the crew about your actions and I have grown, in a way, concerned for your wellbeing,"

"Concerned? Ain't that a human emotion, Spock?" He crossed his arms, as alarm bells went off his head. 

"Leonard, comments like that insinuate your discomfort with the topic, I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable, I merely want to help you in this difficult situation,"

This wasn't going to go easy. He needed another lie, something to distract Spock from the fact that he was right. 

It might be easier for him to just admit it and get help. But there was something soft and comforting about the growing emptiness. He didn't quite want to let it go yet, despite how much he also wanted it to all stop so he could smile with ease and happiness.

"Spock, I appreciate all the effort you've gone to but you're wrong,"

His mind lit up with an idea as Spock tried to understand his mistake.

"How am I wrong?"

He remembered another feeling, among the empty, sticky darkness, of anxiety that came everytime he realised the mission was ending. His escape was slipping away from him and he wasn't any better than he was before he joined Starfleet.

With a deep sigh, he added another story, even if it was based on truth, to the web he was creating.

"This isn’t my depression. When I’m having an episode I don’t scream at people, don’t slack on the job, if anything I work harder than I already did just because it's my only chance to prove it to the voices in my head that they’re wrong, that I do care about people and that I am worth sticking around for,” He said. “I have what’s called high-functioning depression, Spock, I do everything a non-suffering person would but it drains me, I can’t fight off the dark thoughts, so I mope, eat and stay up all night, throw myself into work some more to distract myself,”

“Is that anything like what I’m doing now?" He almost painted as adrenaline flooded through him. He wasn't sure if it was the good kind, though.

“No, in fact, Jim said the same thing,” Spock looked so innocent as he stroked his chin and Leonard couldn't help but feel guilty at how much they'd all hurt if they ever found out how much he'd played them all. That's why he had to keep this up forever. Or until he lost contact with them. 

"But I still have some ques-"

He couldn't take it anymore. The adrenaline made his heart thump. All these lies. All these questions. Couldn't he just go away? Why did he have to be so persistent? Did he want him to break? The cracks were already forming and he didn't know if he could fix it this time.

"See, what you're doing isn't bad Spock, and maybe in another universe you would've been right, but it just wasn't,"

"This still doesn't explain your out of character behaviour, such as cutting me off just now," He raised an eyebrow.

"It's not out of character Spock, I'll be honest with you, this is what I became near the end of my marriage,"

“Those two situations are widely dissimilar, to my knowledge you and Christine are not married and are currently doing well in your relationship,”

Don't even get me started on that, he thought, I don't even know why she's still with me sometimes.

“There was Spock, and trust me, I was there,” He smiled but the joke didn’t land. “I was getting bored, disconnected, losing my passion for a situation I knew would just end in tears, a situation that I’d end up losing anyway. I didn't try to address it to my wife or fix things in a healthy way or even just sit down calmly and get the divorce sorted like adults. I moped like a child and lost anything I could’ve held onto," 

He looked down again, "But maybe all this, you guys holding me accountable will make sure that doesn’t happen again,”

"Does that mean you’re thinking of leaving?” 

“Yes, Spock.”

"But why would you want to leave, after the connections you've made, after the time we put in and, to sound very human, the memories we’ve made. Why would you put that to waste?"

"That's what I've been asking myself, Spock, maybe it's just in my nature to want to fuck off when they get good," 

He took a deep breath when the door closed and collapsed on the floor. No tears fell, his breath stayed calm as something washed over him.

He couldn't keep letting this happen. People didn't need to hear his problems but the vow he'd taken before was failing. 

His hands clenched and his eyes closed. This couldn't happen anymore. He was hurting enough people wallowing out in the open. All he wanted was to help.

No. He had to go further. Keep the mask on, force himself together and hide it all. They didn't need his problems, he didn't need his problems. 

It won't be for too long, he thought, managing to stand and settle on the chair, I'll be fine, I've handled this all before and I was fine

The sound of the holo he turned on, something was artificial laughter, drowned out the tiny voice of reason. The voice saying that he wouldn't, this was a slippery slope that he wouldn't get out of.

But the other one was so much easier to listen to. So much calmer and warmer. 

This will help. You won't hurt people. This is what you need to do to be better, do better. Because we all know you're not enough as you are.

Chapter Text

His eyes cracked open as he reluctantly let himself awake. The swooshing sounds of water told him Christine was awake too. 

The sun stabbed him further as he wished she'd stay in there a bit longer. She was catching onto the abyss within him. She knew that he was withholding more and more each day.

In truth, he didn't want to ruin her like he did Jocelyn. He knew his depression ruined that marriage, even if the voice in the back of his head told him that both were in the wrong, he knew that the darkness had poisoned her. Every touch of his hand darkened her soul and turned them both sour.

He couldn't lose Christine like that. Couldn't let his hands turn her empty and soulless like him. She had so much left to achieve and experience. He couldn't steal her light from her just in the name of a love that he was going to ruin.

She emerged from the bathroom and began getting ready. Last night hadn't been the amazing night he knew she'd planned. 

She'd practically sparkled in the lingerie, fitting but not tight against her skin. The sex had been fun but they both knew he was holding back. They could feel their trust in each other waning. 

He built up his confidence for a moment and asked. "Wait where are you going?"

"I'm going to meet my friend for breakfast, you know Michelle from the Academy, I have told you this," She didn't look at him as she began putting her makeup on. "And I hope you remembered that you're supposed to meet me in the park at 1500 hours," 

"Of course I didn't," Another thing he'd forgotten, and he could sense there was something else too but he just couldn't place what it was.

"Don't worry, I'll give you a thirty-minute leeway,"

She had too much faith in him. Maybe if he just told her how bad it was getting then everything would be better? 

He shook his head. No. She didn't need to hear those atrocities, they'd probably just scare her off. He'd dealt with this before and he could do it again, even if he knew he wouldn't recover properly from this alone.

"Right you, have a good day, I'll see you later,"

"See you later," He mumbled as she kissed his forehead.

"I love you,"

"Love you too," He didn't know if his heart was in the statement. The love was there but was drowned out in the mess that he was becoming.

He watched her leave and sighed as his eyes felt heavy. Sleep wouldn't give him a rest.

His hands were shaking again and a jolting pain shot up his back as he washed his hair. The water scorched against his skin, made him feel like he was melting. He watched as the water pooled around his feet.

Jim's face, full of anger and fear, echoed in his mind. It replayed with every blink. He'd never seen him so enraged before.

He thought he was doing better? Not on the memory side, hence the argument, but his mask was more convincing, he was keeping hold of his problems more than ever. Everything was going well. He was finally in control but was still losing everyone.

He should've expected to lose Jim. Yet that didn't mean it hurt any less. 

Jim had been with him for ten years now. They'd been friends during some of the worst periods of their life. And to lose him in another one, another period that threatened to ruin him, was breaking him even further.

The only thing keeping him going was Christine. Her smile and her patience, her jokes and sarcasm, her knowledge and her instincts. He knew he could do better, be a better boyfriend and boss, and the guilt that he carried around that he wasn't weighed him down a little further.

At this rate he'd be below rock bottom before he'd turned off the shower.

He stepped outside into the fresh air and felt some part of him wake up. The wind brushed against his face, tickling his freshly shaved chin. He wanted to make an effort for Christine after wallowing for so long. She deserved to have a worthy boyfriend for at least shore leave.

The world around him seemed so lively and colourful while he felt grey and still. Trees spread their blossoms on the paving around him. Light shone at the windows and ships flew in and out of the atmosphere.

He entered the park and made his way to the bridge they'd arranged to. Christine stood in her own world looking out at the small pond glittering from sunlight. She had a look on her face that she was uncomfortable. The same look she got when they had to make a difficult decision at work.

His arms fit perfectly around her waist as she asked him the usual questions that he could never bring himself to answer properly. She turned around but neither of them could look into each other's eyes. He knew something big was happening today.

"Look, Len, I have something to say and I need you to listen until I finish or I won't be able to," 

He was right then, something big was coming.

"I want to put this relationship on hold, and I have three reasons why," 

"Wait, no, Chrissie-" He needed her, he couldn't lose her, she was the only reason he got up today, the reason he went outside today.

"Please, let me speak," There were tears in her eyes, at least he knew she was feeling something. "The first is that you haven't kept your promise to improve, you said that you'd try harder in our relationship, that you'd be more open and you haven't. And I can't say that I'm satisfied with how we're behaving around each other, I know I can't always get everything I want but I feel like you're giving me even less than before,"

"Second is that I don't like how you're treating our friends, I know that you probably have a reason but it's not an excuse to harass and terrorise your friends, staff and patients," She continued. "And finally, it's for you,"

"For me, how?" 

"You're fading, falling, slipping out of my grasp. This relationship, any relationship, is meant to give you ease, even in the tough times, you're meant to be relaxed in their presence. But you're none of those things lately, Len, you keep up a mask and tense up if I ask anything remotely deep," She said.

"Relationships take effort, an effort that you don't have and should be putting into your mental health. I don't want to put pressure on you to be something and someone you can't be at the moment," She lifted his hands and kissed them. "This isn't a punishment for not doing good, and I don't want you to feel like I'm abandoning you. All I want you to know is that I love you and want the best for you, but for that to happen I have to put aside my feelings and be there for you as a friend so you can get better and get well again, okay?"

He nodded but felt everything get sucked out of him. Tears fell down his cheeks but there was no urge to sob and beg or plead. Maybe she was right? Maybe this was a good move and he should try to get out of the cave he was in?

But as she pulled out of the hug and pulled away he felt nothing. So walked through the park, eventually lifting her communicator to her ear to speak to someone. 

The wind cradled his face and he let his tears dry. Though the pain was fresh and bleeding, he couldn't quite sense the sadness he had just. It had been hot and bright but a small flame, not destined for long. 

He tried to dig deeper. His hands came empty. The abyss had taken him fully and he smiled, sick and twisted but full of relief. It was working. He'd finally stopped feeling all the shit he had been for months. And he knew what it meant. He'd finally be able to do his job, finally be able to master the mask and put everything away.

He'd been wearing his heart on his sleeve for too long. Sure, in the short term it had benefited him. But look where he was now, not talking to any of them and had just broken a beautiful woman's heart.

Not feeling for a bit would do him good. The Vulcans did it everyday and their society was complex and peaceful. This was good, he told himself as he laughed so hollow he didn't recognise it and made his way back to the hotel room to spend the rest of shore leave. 

Chapter Text

The bag weighed down in his hand as he felt the transporter take him back to the ship. Why did he have to go back? He knew what they'd all say, the looks that would burn into his skull. His job would be busy without a break. He'd have to fight to keep an ounce of energy.

But if he didn't return to the ship where would he go? This planet was pretty but he couldn't stay there. And Earth seemed too far away to trek just to be alone again. The only thing that seemed comforting was the vastness of space, something he never thought he'd say. It was around him all the time, it would be easy just to drift away.

His head came back to itself after a few seconds on the transporter pad. With a deep sigh, he made his way back to his quarters. The corridors were full of forlorn crewmembers, mourning the loss of shore leave. He wished he'd done something worth being sad about.

When he remembered everything that happened he felt nothing. Despite the tears that came at the initial breakup, there was nothing there now. Well, if he dug deep enough there was anger. How could she tell him it was for the better if she wasn't in his head? 

The bag dropped onto the floor with a thud as he entered the room. He didn’t stop to clear it or put his things away. There was one thing on his mind. Coffee.

He made his way to the nearest mess hall before he realised that all the people he'd pissed off would be there too. Hopefully, this change within him would maintain. He didn't want to care anymore when it just took the little energy he had left in the day, all to do something that would be fruitless in the grand scheme of things anyway. He didn't want to care in a world that didn't care about him. 

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here," Jim said.

Bones didn't stop pouring the coffee as he tried to get a rise out of him. He kept repeating the mantra to make sure he didn't crack.

I don't care. It doesn't matter. I don't care. It doesn't matter.

He took a deep breath and felt the unnatural state of calm wash over him. This was okay. He was doing better than he'd been for a while. This was him, he couldn't lose it now.

"To the mess hall?" He turned around.

Jim plucked the cup out of his hand, "To this mess hall, there are plenty of others you could've gone to,"

Easy for him to say. Last time he checked,  he hadn't lost all his friends, his girlfriend, almost his job and definitely his mind in the space of a few months.

Jim was in his perfect world. He had Spock, his ship and his friends. Who cares if he needed to get rid of some people to make sure he could have it all?

Inside him, he felt a bubble of fury. He didn't want it. Didn't like the anger that seemed to be the only thing left. It reminded him of the last time he was like this, near the end of his marriage when all he had was arguments and harmful thoughts. He also knew that anger burned out quickly. 

He needed them to pick a side. Either they were friends or not. And to do that he had to give into the anger and let go of that scarily calm nothingness that he'd felt for the past few days. It was comforting after so long of raging, spiralling emotions to feel nothing. 

He tried to tempt the anger with thoughts. None of them could understand what it's like to be knocked down every time you get a drop of happiness or stability. Not the usual hardships anyone should face, but catastrophic things that only happened to him. 

He rubbed his forehead, "Okay, you want me to go, I'll go!"

He walked to the door with his head down but felt his anger grow more with every step. This was good, if they wanted something genuine, they could get this. They wanted something raw, well this is all he had left. 

All he wanted was coffee, was that a crime now? Was his existence a crime? They were sure making it seem that way. His attitude hadn’t been that bad, he was struggling, he was allowed to snap when everything that was meant to love him hurt instead.

"No, you know what, I'm not gonna leave,"

He turned on his heel and stormed up to meet Jim face on. This had never happened before. Sure, he and Jim had disagreements but never like this. Jim always knew him better. But that had changed. And Leonard had given up questioning if that was a good thing or not a long time ago.

"Oh yeah, have you gone blind too as well as ignorant? No one wants you here," Jim spat. "Just leave, stop pretending you care, we know you don't," 

Maybe he didn’t, but was that so bad? No one here showed him he should care. He never got anything in return for everything he put in. He’d had his time in a one-sided relationship, both ways, with Jocelyn and didn’t want to be there again.

The anger was dissipating now. He couldn't let it. If they saw him give up now they'd see that as a win, they'd see an opportunity to lower his defences and make him give up the mask. Make him feel again. 

He turned to Christine and felt some level of anger come back to him. She tried to warn him down with a look. How was that meant to help? She wasn’t his girlfriend anymore, and they both knew that ‘I still want to be there as a friend’ bullshit wasn’t true.

He wanted to say something that hurt. Wanted to get a reaction out of him, out of everyone in the room. If he apologised they’d just act smug, making jokes and making him feel like every struggle was blown out of proportion and pointless. And maybe it was? But it was the only thing he had left. 

He glanced at Spock and a horrid idea flashed into his mind. If he wasn’t so angry he’d be able to see sense. They always insulted each other, Hobgoblin was usually a heartfelt one. He could call him that, right?

"You know, Jim, I think you've forgotten that relationships go both ways. You're the one who sabotaged our relationship, to begin with!"

"Really, how?" Jim said, crossing his arms

"By spending every hour of every day with that--" He pointed at Spock. "That green-blooded hobgo--"

Smack. He deserved that. Jim was smart, he knew that wasn't used as just another nickname. 

He was pulled up by his collar and pushed toward Spock to apologise. The words that came were genuine, he knew Spock would forgive him. That was a bad thing to say, even if he was angry.

He turned to Jim again, "Look what I said there, apart from the xenophobia obviously, still stands. You want someone to blame all your hurt from this break-up, so to speak, on someone, so who better than the guy you're no longer friends with?"

"Just go, I think you've said enough today--" the fatigue was obvious in his voice.

He left the coffee on the side and stormed away. That wasn't worth his energy. All he'd wanted was coffee but he wasn't even allowed that. 

Why could Jim blame him for things that weren't his fault but the moment he did the same he was evil? A lot more shit had happened to himself than Jim. Why couldn't he just blame someone?

"Hey, are you doing alright?" Christine said behind him.

"What d'you think?" He didn't have time for her either.

Her eyes scanned him as they stood in the empty corridor. He wasn't a specimen to be studied just because he was the only one who handled things differently.

"Talk to me, I'm here," She said. "We may have broken up but I'm still here for you,"

"Stop saying that,"

"Why?"

"Because I know it's not true. You said that when you left me and you're saying it now even though I know it's a lie, a lie to make yourself feel better when you know you're abandoning me,"

"Didn't you hear what I said at all? I still want to be here for you, I still love you, it's just that now isn't the right time," Half of him wanted to believe her but he wouldn't let it.

"Not the right time? That's a cheap excuse. I know the real reason," He had to come up with one now.

"Oh yeah, what is it?" 

"Well, you know how you're always going on and on about how the people who should've been there for you in your life weren't? Your parents, Roger," 

He leaned in despite the distance he'd put between them, "Well, I've got some news for you,"

"You finally picked up some of their tricks."

He saw the shock hit her as she walked away. A twisted sense of satisfaction hit him. Then a dulled guilt. Then nothing. He'd felt fatigued before that happened, but after that, another spike in emotion and the way he'd hurt Christine, he practically floated to his quarters.

One thought was on his mind as he collapsed onto his bed. Finally, someone felt the same as him. He was so sick of feeling alone, the depths of the universe were kicking in, mixing with the void and making him feel like the only person alive who could possibly feel shitty.

So someone finally feeling so betrayed was a relief. But he couldn't stop thinking that maybe he'd done it the wrong way.

Chapter Text

'Less than one day left,' he said to himself. Everything was going fine in sickbay, he knew he'd have to work for another half an hour, that was expected with this job. 

Before, he would've complained, wallowed around and taken it out on other people. But now he accepted it. It was his job, his role on the ship. The only thing he was good for.

Geoffrey knocked on the door and let himself in when he heard a grunt from McCoy. 

"I need your signature to transfer Lieutenant Danvers to Medbase 4," 

He nodded, signing his unintelligible scrawl on the line shown. 

"You seem to be doing better, McCoy," M'Benga said.

He smiled at him, almost as dazzling as Jim's. He knew he'd have to lie, it was coming easy to him now. 

"Yes, I'm better now, I told you I just needed to get into the swing of things,"

He smiled back, couldn't let him see the  cracks in his guise. This mask was fitting him well of late and the temptation to let it go was getting further and further away. The mask was slowly becoming him. Sickening, fake happiness covering a void just getting deeper and deeper. 

He rarely felt much nowadays. The anger he'd felt a week before was distant and unknown. Any emotion was a strange silhouette in the distance.

He saw a notification pop up on his PADD, it was from Jim. 

List of Personal for Velaus Away Mission:

Captain James T. Kirk

Lieutenant Commander Spock

Lieutenant Nyota Uhura 

Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy

He stopped reading further. He wasn't supposed to be on that list. He couldn't be. He wouldn't be around then and didn't want to cause an intergalactic war just because he couldn't be there.

Why are you being vague about it? You know why you're not going to be there. Just admit it to yourself.

"Everything alright?" Geoffrey asked, turning from the door, Leonard hadn't realised he'd reacted.

"Yeah, just got the list of staff for the away mission tomorrow," he held it up to him. "And I'm on it,"

He looked at him confused. "You're doing all away missions now, at least the ones that require the CMO to be there,"

"I know, I know, it's just-"

He had to come up with a lie quickly. But luckily for him, he'd been lying so much that it came naturally.

"I'm not gonna be there, my mom's sick and I'm meant to be catching a shuttle to get back to earth to see her,"

"Everybody's parents get sick, maybe you could just COMM her?"

He shook his head, "No, she's been living alone for over ten years now and is facing eight years old, I can't leave her alone,"

M'Benga's face melted into a smile and he patted him on the shoulder. "Talk to Jim about it, I'm sure he'll let you,"

He left and said over his shoulder, "I hope she gets well soon!"

"Me too," 

He let out a deep sigh. That was a close call. Now he just had to build up the courage to tell Jim the same lie.

His leg bounced under the table, he wished this meeting were over sooner. He didn't care about this mission. He wasn't going to be on it anyway.

Everyone shared the same energy. But there's was positive. There was something going on tonight that everyone was excited for but he couldn't remember in the slightest.

Jim dismissed everyone with a tired smile and turned toward the screen. He saw the way his shoulders dipped and part of him didn't want to tell him he couldn't go on the mission tomorrow.

He'd already decided not to give him a reason why. Jim knew when he lied, especially since he'd been doing it so much lately.

"Captain, I have a request about tomorrow's away mission," He held a strong, neutral face and made heavy eye contact. 

"Go ahead, Doctor,"

"I need to be transferred off the team,"

Jim raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"It's a personal reason, sir,"

He noticed the way he winced at his use of Sir. But he needed to keep it formal or his mask would slip a little too far and everything he'd worked towards would be for nothing.

"Well, since we're not close anymore, I can't give you the benefit of the doubt," Jim said.

He needed to get off this mission. He'd tried every day to tell him but Jim was always busy. Or Leonard would always find a way to get out of confronting him.

"I can't tell you, is there another way I can prove to you?" He said.

Jim stood thinking for a moment then replied. "Okay, apologise to your friends at Sulu's party, to Christine, to M'Benga, to me, to all your friends that you're so hell-bent on pushing away," 

'So that's what everyone was so excited for?' He thought.

"I miss you, Bones, okay? I miss talking for hours and you and Spock debating and you and Scotty being the parents of the Enterprise,"

He couldn't say stuff like that. Especially not today, knowing what he was going to do tonight. A sniffle left him. His mask was slipping, he couldn't let it.

Jim hadn't been awful after their major fight, in fact, they'd been more civil than they'd been in a while. He put it down to his lack of feeling.

God I sound like Spock, he thought.

Perhaps Jim thought he'd taken a hint and finally kept all his negativity to himself. But he was wrong. There was no negativity left, no happiness left either.

Leonard redirected his train of thought. His plan needed to change but he couldn't think. He needed to get off the mission, but also couldn't afford to go to that party and make amends. He may have nothing left, but that wasn't secluded to emotion, it was his energy too.

"Things change, Jim, we have three months left of the five-year mission,"

"That doesn't mean you have to cut off all communication,"

"I've found my place in the world, the universe again, I've tried to make my peace with my past," He said. "You didn't think I'd stay in Starfleet after this, did you?"

"Maybe," Jim's tone was somber and his face looked like a child's. "We're meant to be your family,"

"Well, if you're out in the middle of deep space and I'm on Earth, there's no chance we're going to stay close, especially since we can't do it now and we're on the same ship," 

"Don't speak too soon, if you apologise tonight then things might change,"

He had nothing to say. These apologies had to be genuine but if they were he wouldn't know how much else would escape. 

Leonard shook his head and left in a flurry. He had a lot to do tonight so headed off to Medbay to start his plan.

Sickbay was empty when he entered. No staff looked at him. He had been doing more overtime lately, so seeing his face after his shift was over wasn't a rare occurrence. 

He made his way down the corridor to the storerooms. His palms were sweaty and heart raced. He could hear his pod pounding in his ears. 

It wasn't like he'd be questioned if he was seen taking stock. He was the CMO and everyone knew if he needed supplies, any supplies, you gave them to him- be it silicone or a hundred bandages.

His theory was true. No one even acknowledged him as he slipped into a storeroom and made his way down the rows and rows of boxes. The one he was looking for was hypospray cartridges.

His eyes widened when he came to them. But his body calmed slightly when he saw just how many boxes there were. It was good to see they were stocked but he didn't want this to be a long journey .

Just as he felt his heart lowering, he found the cartridges he wanted. They were in a small box at the back, ignored and snubbed. Their labels read Caudices Aliquid Curism.

These were nasty things, but good for treating wounds that wouldn't close using a regenerator, or if there wasn't one nearby. Alone they could kill in a matter of minutes. This was exactly why he was going to inject himself with them tonight.

A quick, surefire death.

He hurried back to the door, grabbing a hypospray on his way, and slipped out of the door to his room.

On his way back, he noticed aspects of the ship in a new light. Despite the chaos within him he hadn't felt this peaceful in months. He noticed the way people spoke as they walked toward him, the way the light bounced off the walls of the corridor and the distant sound of sickbay.

In a way, he was going to miss this place. And miss his friends. But that wasn't enough to convince him not to. He was just so tired of everything, of keeping the mask and holding every urge and feeling, or lack of, inside every second of the day. So tired of feeling nothing and everything at the same time. So tired of losing.

He reached his room and collapsed against the door, sliding down slowly before he let out a sob. He should write the letters now while he was feeling. They'd be more genuine that way. 

The party would be starting now. He should go and show his face, make amends and get off the mission tomorrow. All his letters were written and shoved in a drawer under his bed. One to Jim, Spock, his family on earth, Joanna, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov and one to explain to all what had happened and why he'd decided to end his life.

Part of him didn't want to go. The darker voice in his head telling him not to. 

Who cares if there's a crisis? You're going to be dead, you won't know.

But his friends would be affected. Possibly his family, his daughter.

They won't accept your apology. You've hurt them too much. Just end it, it's easier, they'll be more satisfied if you do.

No. They weren't malicious. They cared for him. Right?

Even if they do, you're tired. This is how it should be, everything that's worth something to you has been taken. You have nothing. Why not do this?

He heard a knocking on the door to his quarters and groaned. This was probably Jim here to berate him for being late. Or Spock to do the same. He wasn't even dressed, didn't have anything prepared.

"Doctor, we could go together, I think it still counts as fashionably late?" 

It was Chekov. He ran a hand over his face and made his way from the bathroom to the door. He couldn't ignore Chekov, the image of the loveable kid's disappointed face was motivation enough to at least give him a reason not to go.

"Doctor, you're not ready!" Chekov exclaimed and pushed past him to enter the room. "That doesn't matter, I vill help you,"

He didn't seem to want to let him send him away. He withheld a sigh and gave him a response. "Look, kid, I appreciate you coming here but you don't have to, I've done wrong by everyone and pushed everyone away, why are you here?" 

"Vell, I didn't have many friends for most of my life so I vant to keep as many as I can," 

His heart broke slightly and some of the guilt he'd been holding back with his weak defences seep in. Did he really want to make this kid cry?

While he was deep in thought, he hadn't noticed that Chekov had seen the hypospray. Hadn't he hid it? Why didn't he hide it with the letters? Think of something quick!

"What's that for?" 

"Oh nothing, just got a bit of a headache--" He let out a breath through his teeth. That had been a close call, there had been too many of them lately.

Chekov pushed past him and opened his closet, immediately pulling out the multitude of patterned shirts he had. He turned towards after getting through most of his wardrobe.

"Why do you have so many patterned shirts? And are those ascots," He pulled one out of the basket and flung it on the pile.

"Hey, don't make fun o'my fashion,"

"It's not bad," He said, with a squint of his eye. "You just make it wery obvious that you are a dad,"

"A dad?"

"Yes, for many, many years there has been a stereotype for dad's to wear shirts like this--" He held up a shirt to him. "Yes, this vill vork,"

He caught the outfit and let himself be pushed into the bathroom. The being he saw in the mirror didn't look like him. He'd been avoiding looking lately. His eyes were too hollow. It made him sick to look. 

The clothes were perfect as he slipped them on. He tried to enjoy the textures against his skin, the way the colours complimented each other and popped. 

But it was dull. No zing happened. The clothes were just clothes that hung off his frame instead of being fashionably loose. He looked like a corpse in his best clothes for a funeral, not ready for a party.

He forced himself to look at his face again. When he tried to smile, the words fake seemed etched onto his skin. How was he meant to apologise genuinely when the mask he wore was starting to become stitched to him?

He pulled away from the mirror and took a shuddering breath. Chekov wanted to go to the party. He didn't need to witness a breakdown. 

The plan can happen later, he assured himself. Everything was prepared, he could hold on for a few more hours. Death can wait when it's accepted and guaranteed.

"Right, does this look goo--" he stopped mid-sentence.

Chekov was holding the picture he'd overturned. It had been overturned for a reason. Being reminded that he was happy once, that he let down his defences and let himself slip, made everything worse. The past him was too naive. He deserved this, deserved it for forgetting the pain and moving forward.

"You tidied up." Was all he could choke out.

"Yes, I thought it could help, and I found this picture--" He held it up to him.

Leonard strode over and slammed it down on the desk, that photo was cruel and mocking. It made him feel things when he shouldn't. Everything was going fine, running like a well oiled machine. Feeling had made him run down and slack in his work. Now he wasn't, his efficiency was booming.

"Let's get going," He said. 

He just wanted to get this over with.

He'd been at the party for ten minutes now and had already swallowed a drink too fast. He eyed his targets one more time.

Sulu stood surrounded by his friends. At least they were all in one place, he could apologise to all of them and leave to complete his plan. 

But, they'd all be watching him. Waiting for him to slip up.

He shook his head and took a long, deep breath. The apology wasn't going to happen without him.

His feet took him to them. They stopped mid conversation and watched him. His stomach dropped like he'd jumped off a cliff. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Hi,"

"Hi?" Sulu replied.

This was awkward, he needed this to end. Now.

"Look, I came here to apologise. I've been really shitty lately to practically everyone on the ship for petty reasons," he couldn't quite reach their faces despite knowing he had to. "And even if they were honest thoughts, I should've acted like an adult."

"I'm sorry," he finally made eye contact.

"Well this is a bit out of the blue, but I guess it's a good birthday present," Sulu said. "But you haven't told us why you started acting like that,"

He gulped, he should've expected questions. It was naive to think they wouldn't. But questions were still questions and they were not welcome.

He tried to meet their faces again but failed. They were waiting for an answer and he had none. There was the option of telling them what was going on. Of the depression. 

He resisted a shudder, that was the first time he'd used that word. 

But it was Sulu's birthday and he didn't need that burden. He should enjoy himself.

"Yeah, the silence is a really convincing argument," Sulu said, crossing his arms. "Just tell us what's going on, and not the shit you spouted to Jim,"

Jim blushed in the background.

"I can't, it's too complicated and it's your birthday," He looked down.

They talked in quiet mumbles for a few moments and said, "We'll think about it,"

Leonard let his shoulders sag and walked away. He could feel their eyes on him as he walked back to the wall. They carried on sneaking glances for a few more minutes before they left him alone. 

He could leave now. He'd apologised and he could leave. Leave the party, leave the universe.

A hand held his wrist as he started to walk to the door. It was Chekov again.

"Why are you leaving, Doctor? The party's just begun!" 

Leonard sighed and let himself be led to a table to ensigns he didn't know, who all quivered in his presence. This night was going to be the worst of his life.

The party was dying down inside. He'd finally escaped Chekov's clutches and was sipping whiskey alone. He supposed he could leave but something within him wasn't ready to go yet. 

Self-preservation was kicking in and he wasn't sure if he liked that.

Jim hadn't given him the verdict about his apology, and judging by his friends' reactions, it was unlikely he'd be off the mission. Maybe that's why he was sticking around?

He should go. This party wasn't doing anything for him. He should've left ages ago, he'd be dead hours by now. The more he left it, the higher the chance that they could save him. 

He didn't want to be saved. He didn't deserve to be.

A crash from the doorway broke his trance, he looked briefly and saw Jim holding onto the arm of Spock. He gulped and put up the mask again, turning back into the person he had become, not the person hiding underneath.

He took a long sip of his drink and noted Jim's eyes jump in concern. Jim hadn't noticed that he'd seen him, still hung onto Spock's arm as he swayed towards.

They stopped in front of him. Jim leaned forward to talk.

"Did something happen tonight? Because you never drink alone,"

"No."

"Really? I have a hard time believing that,"

"Well believe it, Captain,"

He'd started to hate how sarcastic this mask could be. How hurtful he was. This wasn't what he wanted at the start, all he'd wanted was to deal with this in private. But he just had to drag other people into his mess. Just the before.

"So nothing happened? Nothing! Because that's true then what the fuck were those apologies?"

Jim's rage was real and hot. His face lit up red. The alcohol probably wasn't helping.

"They were apologies, Captain. And you should watch your words, it's very unprofessional to use expletives when you're a Captain," He said.

"You're telling the truth, you're actually telling the truth,"

One last morsel of emotion appeared within him far away. He didn't know he'd been holding onto it. He picked it up in his mind and identified it. It was rage, seemingly the only thing he was allowed to have, despite how little he liked being angry.

He let it flood through him. Let himself be consumed so he could finally get everyone off his back. They would stop saying he was lying, he could do this mission and end it all. This was the last time he wanted this argument.

"Why are you having such a hard time understanding that? You're the one who's obsessively trying to find a deeper meaning to the fact that we're not friends anymore. You're the one who forced me to apologise just so I can be off the away team, even though you'd give any other officer the benefit of the doubt. Why am I different, Jim, why?"

The shock in Jim's eyes was momentary.

"Because you're the one who can't be bothered anymore even though you never stop caring about anyone and you keep insisting on keeping the truth from me!" He snapped. "How can I give you the benefit of the doubt, professional or personal, when you're always lying to me?"

The glass slipped from his hand and scattered across the floor. It was true, he was lying to everyone. But having everyone tell him, when it was taking everything to hold things in and try to lie, made the mask slip.

There were two options. Open up about everything, face their sympathy and unearned feelings. Lose the option of having eternal rest. Or break this off completely.

Threads had remained over the last few months. Leonard had probably been given the benefit of the doubt more times than he could count. His friends wanted him back in some way. But he couldn't have that, there would be too much pain when he ended his life. So it was time to push them away for good.

"Because I'm not lying to you, Jim. Like I said to you in the meeting room, this mission ends in three months and I don't want to stay in Starfleet. I've had enough space for a lifetime and I'm getting sick of being stuck out here where there's constant life-threatening danger on a ship filled with wannabe diplomatic idealists who just want to fulfil their adrenaline junkie needs."

The rage was leaving now. He felt like he had a hangover.

"I'm done with Starfleet, and I think I have been for a while. Humans don't deal with being trapped in a career on Earth well, let alone in deep space. It's been a great ride but I'm leaving, and there's no point rekindling relationships that aren't going to last a month once I'm gone,"

Jim's anger had dissipated too. He clung back to Spock and begged for him to stay with his eyes. He knew it would hit him hard. It would hurt him and bring up ancient trauma. But he couldn't do this anymore. He'd hurt his friends enough, if he stuck around more, their hurt would just get worse. 

"I'll say it now. Goodbye, Jim, I've loved the ride but now I have to get off," He didn't turn to look at him again.

A mantra filled his head as he walked back to his quarters.

One last mission and we end it. One last mission. One last mission.

It was just a meagre mission. It's not like he could get possessed. Right? 

Chapter Text

Leonard scanned the chamber another time, the results of the species' tests were still being processed back on the ship. He was getting the same results from the first time he scanned. Purple rock, condensation residue, more purple rock.

The colour was hurting his eyes. He closed them and took a deep breath. Just a few more hours, some paperwork and this would be over. He hadn't moved the needle from the desk and could see it as he opened his eyes again.

On the other side of the cavern, Jim talked to the main group of the species. He glanced at him and saw his face contort. 

Leonard's heart faded. What was happening? That face always meant something was going to go wrong. He should have made a tally of all the times that face showed up on missions, and how many times the mission went wrong.

After a few more words were spoken, they were organised in lines and led out of the cavern. He drifted out of the line and caught Jim's eye. They didn't say anything but his eyes did all the talking. Get back in line.

He returned to his place and thought that look was familiar. He must've taught him that look and realised how much fear it instilled in him. How many times had he given that look to people?

As they filed out of the cavern he realised the people in front of him were disappearing into the darkness. His stomach dropped and he gulped. 

He had no idea what was going to happen.

The sounds of his footsteps echoed around the smaller cavern he'd found himself. Everyone else in the group had gone, he didn't know if they were dead or alive. 

His heart thrummed in his chest. He hadn't felt this much in a while. There had been no one to give himself such intense anxiety. But now everyone was in danger, and even he knew that he couldn't save everyone, no matter how hard he tried. 

A waft of air came from one direction. He didn't know which. Everywhere he turned, every possible exit was clouded in darkness. Sounds came from the hollow corridors. His stomach sank. He wasn't getting out of here unscathed 

The hairs went up on the back of his neck as the wind, that seemed somewhat sentient, climbed around his body. It inspected him for a while before revealing itself.

"Leonard McCoy," its voice was a whisper and a shout, cold and warm, masculine and feminine.

He turned to see where it was coming from but saw nothing. The voice was etched into the molecules of the wall. Its power made him quake in his boots.

"Who is this?"

"You will find out,"

"That sounds weirdly ominous," he mumbled to himself.

If the voice had a face it would've rushed up to his, its eyes angry and curious. The wind flew around his body and lifted him up in the air. His breaths came out in pants as he rose further and further towards the low cavern ceiling. Would they slam him into the rock face or through him back onto the ground like a ragdoll?

They went with the latter option but the fall wasn't as harsh as he thought it would be. The wind formed hands and lowered him carefully, holding his body like an infant's.

"We wanted you alone, the others are in groups," their voice was intimate against his ear, like a lover, like it wanted him to feel special.

"Why?"

"We saw your suffering and want to help,"

"You don't look like the species we saw when we arrived,"

"We are...other to them," they hesitated.

"Other?" He said.

"Yes, other," the voice crept closer towards him. "Like you,"

He gulped and shook his head, "I'm not other,"

"You don't have to lie to us, Leonard McCoy,"

He shuffled backwards in a fruitless attempt to escape the voice that came nearer and nearer. Were the others just as afraid? Or were they calm in each other's company and he'd got the short end of the stick?

"No one else is experiencing this, they're facing a challenge, not meeting an ally," 

He reached the back wall of the cavern and let out a pathetic, shaky breath. They came closer to him and made sure he had nowhere to go, despite being a disembodied voice, he remembered floating in the air and didn't want a repeat.

"An ally?" He managed to choke out.

"Like we said previously, we can see your suffering," 

Leonard didn't move. They hadn't paralysed him, he knew as he twinkled his fingers. But he could feel them in his mind, moving things and scanning like a robot. He didn't dare to move in case it threatened them and they did damage. The Enterprise had gotten into these situations enough times for him to let it happen, then think of a plan.

"We know of the needle on the desk, we know the nights you've cried over losing everything, the anger kept in every fibre of your being and the emptiness that has taken you from it all," 

A tear rolled down his face. That's exactly what he'd been looking for. Someone to know everything without him having to say it, or admit it. 

Even if he knew what was wrong with him. Saying it was more than thinking it. Saying it meant it was real, and that people would look and only see what was wrong, asking in condescending voices and expecting improvement.

"We can help you with it," they said.

"How?"

"We will observe you, your behaviour and your goals. Then, take you on, your personality and be you when you can't, so you can focus on surviving and, perhaps, getting better again,"

"How will you do that?" He said with a sniff, collecting himself.

"We'll be with you, always," they continued after sensing his confusion. "In your head, in your body, we will be two in one,"

He got up in a flash. His breath quickened. He might be desperate for help, but even he knew, in his state, that an alien thing in his head was not a good idea.

"No."

"How do you know your answer without experience?"

"I don't need experience to tell me something doesn't feel right,"

Their voice had started to form something in front of him. A fuzzy form, a silhouette of black, changing and twitching without eyes. It extended a hand to stop him leaving. It's black fingers wrapping around his wrist and turning his veins the same bottomless darkness.

"Let us help you," the figure said. "Let us get your friends back, your family back, before the mission is over,"

He looked at where their hand was on his wrist, "That's not a lot of time,"

"We promise, by the time the mission ends, you will be happy again,"

Happy? He hadn't thought of happy. All his goal had been was to get better. Now, he realised how naive this had been.

"Really? You promise?" He sounded like a child.

"Yes," the form got more steady as he nodded. "Take our hand, all of this will be painless,"

Their grip was firm for a silhouette. He watched as his veins went black, his skin went pale and the silhouette faded as it joined with him. His head went fuzzy as they unified. Sweat formed on his brow and skin went sickly pale. 

Was this a good idea?

Yes.

The voice echoed in his head and he jumped. That was something he was going to have to get used to.

Light appeared before him and his heart skipped a beat. Darkness had surrounded him for so long his mind had started playing tricks on him. At one point, he thought this voice in his head, the fuzzy form now in his bloodstream, was misleading him. But now he knew it was right and that their promise was going to come true.

He went to step out of the corridor but stopped when the voice appeared again.

You cannot tell them of us.

"Why?" He asked.

They won't believe you, we have been scanning your mind and know that they will not believe you. You should tell them once you are happy again, only then will they believe you, only because of the evidence you will have. 

He nodded and went to start again.

You must run. They're beginning to think you didn't make it. You should stop their worries.

He complied, not questioning how they knew what his friends were thinking, and started to jog to the light. His head grew more fuzzy, a high pitched whine and the sound of white noise filling it as he ran with more energy than he had. 

The corridor opened into another cavern. Above was a skylight looking up to a crystal clear grey sky. The light shone I'm spot but cast shadows on the faces of the crew's dwindled numbers.

He picked up the tricorder from his hip and made his way around the remaining crewmembers. A few dead bodies lay on the ground, their skin as pale as milk. They died of fear. Such a horrible way to go.

If they asked what he saw, what would he say? He should probably brush them off, say the remnants of failed missions. If he'd actually been challenged like them, he knew he would've heard the raspy breaths of his father in his last few weeks.

In his peripheral vision he saw Jim walk over to him. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself. The new presence in his mind made it easier.

"You okay, Doctor?"

"Fine."

He inspected him, looked deep in his eyes, curious and analysing. Jim did this a lot recently and pretended like he didn't know he was doing it. It made him want to squirm, made him feel like a lab specimen.

"Are you sure of that?" 

"Completely," he replied, he was so used to lying to everyone. "Let me check you over,"

He pulled Jim over to wear Spock sat with his eyes closed, regaining himself after the challenge. Everyone around them looked emotionally scarred. He could only imagine what it was like for someone who held so much of his self-worth on his composure, for it to be challenged so harshly.

The tricorder whistled as he scanned them both, "No physical effects for either of you, but I'm making everyone an appointment with one of the ship's therapists, I'll COMM you your appointments,"

"Are you booking yourself in?" 

"Of course." Another lie. He was doing no such thing, too many questions, too hard to lie to someone whose job it was to read people, properly read people, and their facades. He thought about the being in his head, and read what's in your head, he added to his previous thought.

He walked to the otherside of the cavern, as far away from them as he could get. All of this had really seemed to give Jim some perspective. Perspective that came too late.

As he closed his eyes, he saw Jim staring again. What was so interesting about him that required staring so intently? It wasn't like the words "I have an alien in my head" were now tattooed on his forehead. 

He heard movement and vague speech that he was sure he'd hear clearly if he concentrated. But the adrenaline of everything was wearing off and the realisation of what he'd done hit him in one go.

Tears flooded his eyes and he had to blink rapidly to ensure they didn't spill. He tried to repeat a mantra. No emotion, no pain. No emotion, no pain. No emotion, no pain. 

God, I sound like a stereotypical Vulcan, he thought to himself.

Before long, the voices stopped and he felt his stomach swoop like it always did when he was beamed aboard the ship. His body took this as the sign that he could go despite being nowhere near his quarters or even his office.

He wasn't alone and couldn't break down here. That was just too much truth and openness. More than he'd ever shown on the ship.

Inhaling long and slow, he stepped off the transporter platform to try and make it to his quarters before he finally broke down. He could feel people's stares as he walked through the corridor. A reflective surface on the wall glimmered at him and he took a glance at himself.

His skin was pale and sickly, like a diseased child. The sheen of sweat was still there although he was beginning to shiver. Bags hung under his eyes, drawn back and shadowed by the frown on his face.

He looked dead. No wonder everyone was staring.

That was the last straw. He made his way to a quieter corridor with hurried steps and collapsed without realising where he was. 

Nothing could stop his reaction now. No deep breaths or facades. They all melted down with his tears as he rocked back and forth. 

He was possessed. He let an alien in his head. He was possessed. He was possessed.

The voice was quiet, its presence limited in his head. Weren't they meant to stop this? Make him feel better and happy again? They didn't seem too eager to do so.

This fact made the tears fall harder. His hands gripped his hair as he sniffed and choked on the phlegm that came with crying. 

Black boots went past, he saw a flash of command gold and something reminded him that he was sitting right next to the turbolift that led to the bridge. He hadn't picked a quiet corridor after all.

This didn't phase him as much as he thought. He was too overwhelmed with the shock of what he was now to think about other people.

The tears didn't stop for a while. His feet went numb and they only wakened when he'd made the long trek to his quarters. 

It was then, while washing his face, that he realised his tears were black. And so were the veins in his eyes.

Chapter Text

Leonard sat in his office with a coffee in his hand, it had long since gone cold. He just had to step out of the door and go to work. His shift was starting in a few minutes. But he couldn't get himself to move. 

The being in his head had stayed dormant since Velaus. He'd gone about his business anxious and waiting. But nothing. Yet he knew today would be different.

"For the next three shifts we will observe your actions and being, collect your memories and formulate our front," The voice said. "From there we will try to be you, to ease your fatigue and stress,"

"Okay," the words came out quiet.

He was trying to save his energy for the shift, which meant acting like a zombie for the rest of the day. No one was catching on, luckily. He wasn't grumpy, didn't shout at people. His staff and patients were commending him on his positive attitude. It wasn't positive, though, it was just the unsettling knowledge that it was all he had.

But now he had them, he could do his shift and still have energy afterwards. He wondered how much this could help others who were struggling. It couldn't hurt to try.

With a deep breath, he stood up and shook his head. He plastered a small smile onto his face and the door opened onto his domain, onto his sickbay.

He left sickbay thirty minutes after his shift ended, which was good timing for a doctor. There were no plans ahead for his evening. There never were anymore. He'd successfully pushed all his friends away, although he knew that tonight they would be watching the Real Housewives of Starfleet.

They didn't look at him in the corridors now. At first, it was just Jim and Spock, then Uhura and Sulu, then Scotty and finally Chekov. His heart had broken, the last pieces at least, when he'd fallen in line. Because he knew that he wouldn't get a chance to thank him for saving his life before he left. Although that would mean that he'd have to tell him everything. 

His relationship with Christine had gone completely. He knew he deserved that after what he said to her. It would probably do her good to stay away from a man who couldn't have anything good longer than a decade. This would save a future divorce. It was good in the long run.

"Tomorrow morning we will take control of your body," the voice stopped his train of thought.

"Okay,"

"You may struggle to remember what we will do but we will provide the information to you when you take back control,"

"Okay," 

He knew it sounded weird, how passive and complacent he was being with the thing in his head. But this is what he'd been waiting for, for someone to take control just for a little while. 

“How will it feel?” He said after a while.

The voice didn’t answer for a while. Almost like it was trying to put how painful it would be into words, or how blissful. He’d got to his quarters and was starting to undress when they came back to him.

“It will feel like you’re disconnected, you will know that you’re not in control which we know will take time but after a few hours you will adjust,” 

He blinked for a moment, letting the information sink in. That sounded a lot like dissociation. Scarily like it, even. He couldn’t say he had no experience with that, sometimes his hands would work in surgery without him quite knowing what he was doing but he’d been quick to correct it. Not thinking could cost lives in an operating theatre.

“But we assure you,” the voice returned, knowing his doubts. “That it will feel blissful. No need to think or act, everything being done perfectly by an expert,”

He bit his lip, “I’ve never been the best for taking time off,”

“Well perhaps this can be a learning experience for you,” they said back.

He hummed as he turned on shower, in water mode. Perhaps he could try and let them take control now and get a bit of practice before tomorrow. It couldn’t hurt to try?

“We like that idea,” the voice said. “Should we initiate now?”

They seemed eager to do it like they were holding back and resisting by saying tomorrow. If they were so eager then things couldn’t go that wrong?

“Yes,”

He held a hand out and felt the water start to warm. It was just a shower. Nothing could go wrong in the shower. He wouldn’t miss much.

With a deep breath, he saw images of hands, raven black, encompassing his mind and stroking it. In the images it had black streaks and tendrils covering it, the veins throbbing black too. The hands grabbed his mind and he felt his hands start to go numb. The tingles travelled up his arms and to his neck. They irritated the base of his head.

His breath quickened but the being, this voice now with a form, forced them to calm. He felt himself lose air and realised his chest hurt.

They smacked one hand with the other. The sound came seconds after. The pain also. They turned to the water and put their hand in again, it was nothing. No droplets fell onto their hand although he could see they were through blurred vision. The heat crawled up their arm, getting slower and slower as they stepped in. Soon the temperature was numb and the droplets went away. 

He realised, longer than he would usually like to admit to himself, that his pronouns were for the consciousness, what his consciousness could process. The body was theirs, not his. And he had no objection to the fact.

His vision blurred more, darkness inching in from all sides and obscuring his peripheral vision. He tried to think or say something and thought of his Hippocratic oath, it was long enough but he knew it by heart. That would be a good test of his ability.

“I swear to fulfil, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant: 
I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.” It was going well so far, even if the words came slowly to his head.

“I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic-” What was the word he was looking for? Disbelief, denial? No. It began with an ‘n’.

He would’ve stroked his chin in he could. “Nihilism!”

It didn’t phase him as much as he thought it would, how long it took him to remember the words. Not all doctors remember it, there was no worry if he couldn’t. Even if he had the words on his wall in his office, if he tried to remember it to stay focused in space. They were just words
 
The rest of the speech lost its accuracy as he went on, losing whole sections or phrases. But it caused no ill effect. If he tried to think the anxious thoughts that were plaguing him almost constantly, they had no effect. Or happy or sad or angering ones. Nothing seemed to affect him.

Just like how he hadn’t felt the droplets of water, or how his vision was entirely black now. All he remembered was what the voice said to him. 

“It will feel blissful. No need to think or act, everything being done perfectly by an expert,” 

Blissful. The word echoed in the void his consciousness was in. 

This void didn’t feel like a prison, despite the never-ending darkness around him. It felt warm. The darkness was cosy and soft, warm to his thoughts like a blanket. 

The words were lost now. He couldn’t think of the oath or even remember what it was or why it was that important. 

One thing remained. Bliss. The word was echoing around him, infecting him like a drug but he did not oppose it. If he looked the words were in white around him, bold and protecting. 

Bliss. Bliss. Bliss.

Chapter Text

Leonard entered the bridge but they all knew it wasn't him. It couldn't have been more obvious if he'd told them. His eyes were black, the whites and pupils all covered in a shiny dark ink. The blood running through his veins was also black, there was a trail of whatever the stuff that was flowing through him was leaking out of his nose in a small trickle. 

"You're not Bones, are you?" 

He had to force himself to calm down and it came easy to him. Being a Starfleet Captain meant he had a scary amount of experience with alien possession in his crew.

"No." 

"What are you?"

The thing inside Bones, using him as their puppet, smiled, "I think you know already,"

He, or should he say they, moved strangely. He didn't know how long Bones had been possessed but whatever was in him hadn't gotten used to his body yet. Their movements were janky and mechanical. 

"How long have you been in him?" 

"Since Velaus," he pulled a phaser off his belt. "He was quite easy to convince, all I said was that I would help him, and he was mine,"

"But he didn't look like this when we saw him afterwards," Jim gestured toward the black ink that was everywhere inside him.

Leonard took a few steps closer, Jim moved to him to block.

"What are you doing here, then?" Jim asked.

"I need to get to that console,"

The crew stepped around it instinctively. It was basic training and instinct at this point.

"No chance,"

"That won't do," Leonard stepped closer and raised his phaser. "Let me at that console,"

"What for?"

"What do you think?" 

"To spread, whatever you are," Jim saw the man, the body they were possessing and thought of Bones. "What would he think? The man whose body you're in,"

"Oh, he's on board," Leonard said. "That man maybe hanging by a thread but he has the strength to fight me if he wasn’t on board,"

He made eye contact with him, "Trust me, I can feel it, you're friend, if you class him as one, is a strong man,"

The crew looked at each other, they knew Bones was acting differently and that something must be up but hearing it from the thing that had the most access to his mind felt different.

"You didn't know?" His face feigned empathic shock. "Well, it's really not my place to say, but I will say this, your friend won't survive my absence,"

"Oh yeah, you sure?" Jim stepped so the phaser pressed into his chest. 

"Well, with an attitude like that, you won't either," Their voice deepened and they met eyes.

Jim grabbed the end of the phaser and kicked him in the shin, letting him throw the phaser across the room. Bones began to hop and stared at him with murder in his black eyes. He lunged at Jim. He tried to move away but got pushed a few paces back, holding hands with his friend as he tried to push him away from the console. 

“You. Won’t. Win.” They said through gritted teeth.

Bones pushed Jim a little harder and smiled when he toppled into Sulu. He got pushed off immediately. Bones was heading for the phaser but Spock kicked it across the bridge to Uhura. They all started kicking until Bones growled deeply in frustration, turning to Jim.

“You sure?” He said with a laugh. 

The smile was wiped off his face as Bones ran toward him. He was going to force him to fight. Jim would just have to keep on the defensive until he could get through to him. He could call for security but he wanted to see if he could get Bones back before they took him away.

With a thwack, Bones hit him in the cheek. Then again and again. He tried to struggle and throw him off but he was so strong. Had Bones always been this strong or was it the symbiote? 

"I'm." Hit.

"Getting." Hit.

"To that." Hit.

"Console." Hit.

Jim tried to take a breath in but his nostrils were clogged with blood. It was metallic in his mouth and sticky in his nose.

Would they kill him? Suffocate him on his own blood. He just wanted to get to Bones. Was that too much to ask?

The hitting stopped. Jim took a muffled few gasps of air and saw Spock's head peak over Bones' gasping face. Spock was administering a nerve pinch while his other hand melded with his mind to get the symbiote.

Both of their eyes closed, Bones' in a steady unconsciousness and Spock's in deep concentration. The air was thick and tense. No one dared speak so he could free McCoy. All they heard were the sounds of the bridge and Jim's panting gasps.

Bones' eyes darted open with a sharp intake of breath. Spock's hand fell from his face as the black drew up to the psi points and stuck to his fingers. He eventually got it all out and placed it in a science grade jar. It crawled up the walls, sticking like a spider's web.

Bones had flopped to the floor. Spock checked on him and assured them that he was close to being conscious again. They watched him closely as he shuffled and whined.

Spock checked again and informed that Bones was awake. They continued to look at him, crouched on his calves on the floor with his arms crossed over his chest as he rocked. His hair was ruffled but his veins were back to normal. They had yet to see his eyes. 

Jim met eyes with Uhura, who didn't need to ask to get the medical and science teams to clear things up. He moved closer to Bones, he didn't move from his place on the floor.

"Don't touch me,"

The fake happiness the symbiote brought on was gone. The fake normality he'd mastered before then, and the anger that they'd all faced, had also gone. This was the real man, the one hanging by a thread that he feared had been cut when they 'saved' him. Just like the symbiote said.

"Leonard, that thing, it took over and erased whole societies," Uhura said. "The Anthropologists have made a trail of where it could've been, they think that thousands of societies have been erased, that could've been us, we could've led them to the Federation,"

Bones didn't say anything but kept rocking on the floor. He shifted slowly, not getting up but moving off his legs.

"They were going to help me,"

"With what?"

"Everything,"

Leonard got up, his black eyes were bloodshot and red. His hands shook, they were always shaking. Jim's heart broke for the last time. Bones looked worse than on the shuttle that they'd met. And he didn’t think he could get lower.

"What's everything?"

"You don't care, why should I tell you? We're not friends,"

He went to go to the turbolift but Spock stood in his way.

"You cannot run, Doctor, wait until the medical team arrives," 

"So you only care when Starfleet can get involved, when you can all be demoted for hijacking a starship," he spat. 

"That's not true," Uhura said.

He rolled his eyes, "What a good defence,"

"If it was then we would've called a security team, which we didn't," Jim put a hand on his shoulder. "We care, Bones,"

His eyes went down to the hand on his shoulder, Jim felt that he should move it.

"Stop lying,"

"We're not!" 

"I said stop!" 

Bones turned to Jim and threw his hand off. He stepped towards him and lunged. The anger in his eyes was half hearted as he grabbed at him. Jim held his wrists as he did.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, Bones," he met his eyes.  "Our job is to be diplomats but we can't even talk to each other,"

He carried on struggling but he felt him getting weaker as he spoke.

"I know you’re not innocent but we shouldn't have let everything fall apart so quickly," Bones began to weaken and he pulled away. "I'm sorry, can we be friends again? All of us?"

Bones sighed and closed his eyes. He didn't respond for a while but then he nodded.

"I'd like that," he said as tears dripped down his cheeks.

He wavered as Uhura called for the medical team. Jim caught him as he began to sob into his golden shirt. It broke the shatters of is heart. The sobs were rich and full of pain. Every tear was full of almost a year of bottling things up. Bones went to pull away but Jim held him stronger, like he'd lose him for good if he let his arms relax an inch.

M'Benga and Christine stepped out of the turbolift and made their way to Bones. He could see they were struggling to keep their professional heads on as they pulled him off Jim and dried his eyes. 

They waited for Bones to compose himself, giving him water and more tissues as they explained what was going to happen. He'd spend some time in one of sickbay's mental health rooms, then have a few appointments with the psychologist as they reached a starbase and made a plan of recovery. 

Bones just sniffed as they told him, his face red and eyes puffy. They led him to the turbolift and the bridge crew gave a sigh of relief when the doors closed. 

Jim thought things were finally, finally, going to get better.

Chapter Text

Jim let out a sigh of relief when he heard Dr Ricardo's feet tapping down the corridor towards them. Their shift had ended and they were finally free to see how Bones was doing.

There was a window looking into the room that could go opaque by the flick of a button for the patient's privacy. The screen had been on for the entirety that they'd stood outside waiting for Ricardo to arrive.

Jim remembered how urgent Bones was to get a minimum of three therapists on board per shift, ones for couples, ones various for mental health disorders and ones specialised in treating other species. It didn’t occur to him at the time why they needed so many, they didn't even have a lot of surgical or medicinal specialists on the ship but he knew why now. The likelihood of someone needing a complex surgery on board was slim. But crises on a ship that dealt with all sorts of bizarre scenarios, like possession, therapists were more than needed.

Dr Ricardo stopped by the group and shoved their PADD under their arm and shook their hands.

"Hi, I'm Dr Julian Ricardo, I'm here to talk to Dr Leonard McCoy?" 

Jim looked at the badge on their shirt, checking the names and the pronouns like he didn't already know Ricardo from the mandatory therapy he underwent after Velaus.

"He's in there," Uhura pointed to the room they were outside. "But I think he's still asleep,"

"Ah, well, I'll send for a nurse to wake him up," 

They watched them hurry off to the nurses station and come back. They seemed to be in a constant flurry from one patient to the next, pushing their glasses up every few minutes.

"Can I ask you a few questions before I talk to him? I know he's being transferred to my care so I need to know the bare basics why,"

The group looked at each other, then at Spock, he was the best at these things.

"Dr McCoy is suffering from bad mental health and was possessed from Velaus,"

Dr Ricardo nodded and wrote something down on their PADD, "I see, thanks, I did see a change in the little I've seen McCoy in my time here, although there's only so much you can tell from interactions with your boss,"

Jim sighed to himself, he knew Bones wasn't going to the therapy he made everyone else do. 

He was feeling so shaken. Just when he thought he had everything figured about, his relationships and feelings towards Bones specifically, another curveball was thrown at him. He'd talked to Spock about it, but even he wasn't doing as good as he had been. Although it was sort of endearing to see Spock show that he cares for Bones.

The nurse walked past and they all watched him shake Bones awake. His hair was ruffled and even from afar, he could tell how tired he was. They watched him gulp down the water and toast he'd been given.

"Right, I'll go in now," Dr Ricardo said. "And make sure you get a break guys, take it from the therapist,"

They faked a smile and watched them walk in and introduce themselves to Bones. Jim pulled himself away when the screen went grey and huffed. Ricardo was right, they should get something to eat.

He was beginning to become familiar with these particular white corridors and the staff that walked around here. Jim thought he knew the medical staff, but the mental health ones were practically unknown to him.

The shaken feeling was still there. He'd tried meditating with Spock, fencing with Sulu, boxing with Uhura and even spent hours in engineering with Scotty and Chekov. Nothing had worked.

"You can see him now," the nurse said.

He nodded and patted his legs to ready himself to go in. He'd visited him twice now but he was just as anxious as the first time he stood outside on the day of the breakdown.

Bones was reading on a PADD, they'd told them of all the things they couldn't bring in, his knitting needles being one of them. They'd tidied his quarters up when they visited and were trying their hardest to make up for the time they'd lost.

"Hi, how's your day been?"

He grunted and sat down in the plush white chairs on the opposite side of the room. Jim poured them some water into the plastic cups.

"Well, ours has been alright, nothing too interesting to report,"

"It's gotta be more interesting than being in here," Bones rolled his eyes and laughed. "The only places I'm allowed to go outside here is the gym and one of the study rooms, and that's with staff supervision,"

"Yeah, well we'll be arriving at the Starbase tomorrow so that's something exciting," he looked down. "Have you made your decision?"

"About where I'm going after this place? Well, I've decided to go into another zoo,"

Jim laughed, "These places aren't a zoo,"

"Oh yeah, when was the last time you've been in one,"

"I guess so," he itched the back of his head. "If you don't want to go to Auxida then you don't have to,"

Bones looked down at his cup, his smile dropping, "No, I'll go, I need to go,"

They sat in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry," They said in unison.

"You go," Bones said.

"I'm sorry for jumping the gun, I was hurt but we've worked everything out before, we could've worked this out too," Jim looked at him. "But there's no use in what ifs, how about we try again?"

"Thanks for the apology, and like I said, I'm sorry too, I was in a bad place but I still hurt people, and I guess if nothing else, then this'll give me the chance to apologise and show you that I'm getting better,"

Jim smiled at him and nodded. There was still a bubble of anxiety within him that wasn't going away. He couldn't shake the arguments they'd had. Jim had never seen Bones' rage, his true rage, before this year. He was still adjusting to the idea that a caring man could release such harsh words in that angry tone. 

He finished his water and stood up, patting Bones on the shoulder before saying goodbye and leaving to have dinner. He always knew his anxiety was heightened when he was hungry and he'd just realised how hungry he was.

Maybe he could get Spock to get something for him? All of the chaos of the last few days was really getting to him.

Sulu settled the ship into the dock and let out a breath. Parking the ship was always a difficult task for any pilot. 

The crew turned to look at each other and at the luminent orange and grey starbase that marked the end of their mission. Some of the younger crewmembers had been buzzing with an infectious excitement that almost spread to him if the starbase wasn't already symbolising something to him.

This would be the last time they'd see Bones for a while. The staff from Auxida Mental Health and Rehabilitation Clinic would meet him there and he'd leave to recover for a minimum of six months. 

Everything had been his decision, with some swaying from Dr Ricardo. He knew himself and was grateful that they trusted him to make the right decision- as a doctor and their friend. 

"A shipwide channel has been opened, Captain," said Uhura.

Yeoman Rand handed him a PADD with his speech already turned on. He'd have to do one at the official party for the crew and some admirals on the base but he preferred this one. It was far more personal.

"Hello crew of the Enterprise, your Captain here. Or former Captain. I'll start off by saying, thank you for being my crew, I couldn't have asked for a better crew to complete this mission with. And if you've been here since day one, after Altamid or otherwise, I appreciate all of you and your contributions to our wonderful ship. Whether you're in the pits of engineering, the hive of medbay or any of the nooks and crannies of this ship, you have contributed and you have made a difference.

"Secondly, I wish you all good fortunes for the future, if I see you again then I say hello, if this was your only venture in Starfleet then I hope you enjoyed this toe dip into deep space, and if you're headed somewhere else then I wish you the best of luck." He took a sip of water and continued.

"Thirdly, I'd like to mention those we've lost over these five years, they will be sorely missed," he felt his mouth dry out and was glad the speech was almost over. "And I say again, thank you for being the best crew a man could ask for, all of you have taught me so much and I hope you've all learnt something too. So for the last time, this is Captain Kirk, out,"

He sat back and took another gulp of water. Rand took the PADD, she gave him a smile and nodded as the crew organised the groups to leave. 

He couldn't believe this was over. It only felt like yesterday that they started out. He turned to his friends and smiled to reassure himself, they'd see each other again, even Bones. He just knew it.

Bones met them at the pickup point on the other side of the docks. He'd had a few days of shore leave like the rest of the crew but with a bit more supervision. They could tell when they'd met up that he was tense, it had been a few days wait before the staff Auxida would arrive but the time had flown because here they were to say goodbye.

He had a few bags with him, mostly with sentimental items and clothes. His jaw was scattered with stubble and the same dull look was deep in his mocha eyes.

Jim strode up to him when he stopped and threw his arms around him. They drooped into each other's shoulders. Jim didn't want to leave. He'd missed Bones and when he finally had him back, he had to go.

This didn’t mean that he wasn’t conflicted or hurt over their arguments or how he'd changed. But he'd apologised and going to Auxida would only help him on the road to recovery.

He pulled back and saw a few tears in his eyes, Jim's cheeks were already wet. 

Scotty ran into a hug, followed by Uhura, then Sulu and Chekov and finally Spock. Jim shrugged and joined into another hug and sighed. He was going to miss this.

Christine had stepped back, her hurt was different but they knew she cared as much as them. She went to him and stroked the stubble of his chin before pushing him into another hug. Her hands threaded into his hair and he collapsed onto her shoulder with his eyes closed. Their embrace looked warm and loving and Jim knew their spark wasn't out just yet.

They stepped away and saw the three staff members from Auxida standing a few steps away at the gate. They wore wide sleeved white jumpers with thin trousers and rounded boots. Despite the white, they looked comforting. Perhaps that had been the purpose of the wool.

"Dr Leonard McCoy?"

Bones nodded.

"We're here to accompany you to Auxida, are you ready or do you need more time?"

Bones looked at his friends and nodded at the staff with a smile. He picked up his bags and huffed, lifting his head up as if to build confidence and took a large step forward. Then another until he met the staff and began to walk through the gate.

He turned to them and waved, giving them a smile as tears ran down his face. 

Hopefully he'd be better when they next saw him. It would only be a month, a month wasn't long.

Chapter Text

He stepped off the shuttle and looked up at the looming white building before him. A sign to the left read Auxida Mental Health and Rehabilitation Clinic in metal lettering that shone in the afternoon sun. Trees blew in a gentle wind and clouds littered the skies.

He stood for a moment and stared at it. The soft wind caressing his jaw and the white figures walking the grounds. And he had the sudden occurrence that everyone else's lives happened too. When he was pent up in his own worries, the rest of the galaxy trundled on to the inevitable end of it all.

He supposed, as he followed the staff to the reception desk, that this should've given him a sense of belonging. That if the entire universe had their own lives then someone must be feeling the same.

But it didn't. There was something about that many lives, all different and unique, that made him feel more alone than ever. No one had the same experience so how could anyone truly understand everything he was feeling and the numbing nothingness that was left. Even if Spock could meld and experience everything in its fullness, he still wouldn't understand. This was his burden that no one else could. It was impossible.

"And just sign here," the receptionist said, pointing at the documents on the PADD.

Jocelyn had offered to read them over, using her intelligence as a lawyer to explain parts, after she heard of what he was going through. They'd made their peace back in Georgia before the five year mission started. He couldn't say they were best friends, but they knew where they went wrong back in their marriage and how they'd hurt each other and Leonard had felt all the better from it.

He signed his name and picked his bag back up. A sign above the door flickered and read Patients, he sighed and settled. This is what he was now, even if all the counsellors and therapists tried to make him believe that it was different.

The staff led him into a large rec room, there was a set of sofas with a holo screen, tables where people read and played board games and a wall of books with replicators in the gaps of the shelves.

The walls were a serene, pastel blue with pictures and plants surrounding the furniture. Glass windows were on the same wall as the sofas and let in glittering sunlight. The door in front of him was open and he saw a few people sitting in the garden space- it was nice to see actual, grew-there-by-chance nature after spending so long in an artificial paradise.

There was a gap in the bookshelves where a white sliding door stood with the sign cafeteria over it. He wondered if there was a chance to cook. That had helped him recover in the Academy.

"This floor is the biggest, it's where all the communal areas are," a woman with the name tag 'Shelly' led him to the wide stairs and lifts at the back of the communal room, next to some door with signs to other areas. "We have the group therapy rooms and rooms for classes like pottery or painting, as well as kitchens and quieter sitting rooms,"

She led up to the next floor, "Here we have the therapists and doctors offices as well as the visiting rooms," 

He looked at the pastel mint walls of the hallway that led off into three corridors each with corresponding signs. There were a lot of signs here, he hoped he'd learn where to go.

Something else came to mind as they carried on up the stairs. What would the doctors say? Would they know him? And if they did, what would they say?

Stupid idea. Why would anyone want to know you? You're so self-centered.

He shook his head and looked back at Shelly.

"This floor is for those recovering from addiction," she pointed to her left. "This side is for those recovering from alcohol addiction, or the equivalent for a different species," she pointed to her right. "This side is for those recovering from drug addiction, or the equivalent for a different species," she pointed behind her. "And this is for people suffering from other addictions,"

Leonard thought of Spock and how he got drunk off sugar, thought of the cold nights in his farmhouse during the year off when he'd made them coffee using chocolate liqueurs. He missed them.

Shelly led him up a few flights of stairs, "All the other floors are for other mental health conditions," she turned to see if he was catching up. "We used to separate by condition but found that the results weren't as beneficial as we thought they'd be,"

Leonard almost made a quip but stopped himself. Who knew that putting all the depressed, suicidal people in one place alone was a bad idea?

But he could see the benefits they had been trying to achieve. Maybe if people were with others like them then they'd be more motivated to get help after seeing they weren't alone. Leonard knew people though and would've expected it to go wrong in the first place.

"This is your floor," 

The walls were a pale yellow, a few chairs and plants filled up the empty space in the corridors. Pictures on the walls read of bittersweet ideals and longing situations. He wondered if they were done by patients.

He followed Shelly to his room and saw another blinking sign of his name, age and species on the door. Leonard had never gone in depth in psychology of other species, he had done a course before the five year mission started, but that had been brief so he could help more people as CMO. He questioned if there were other mental health conditions that humans couldn't comprehend.

"This will be your room," she swiped the logo on her top and the door opened. She let it close and signalled for him to do the same with his wrist band.

They walked into the room. It was plain, a bed in the top left corner with the faint ingrained lines of a holo cover to hide him from others when he slept. He'd had them in the Academy when sharing a room with Jim, it was a way of giving privacy when they couldn't any other way.

In front of him, in the corner, was a desk overlooking the gardens below. To his right was a table and chairs with inset shelves in the walls. A plush white carpet was on the floor. 

All the corners and anything that could be sharp or hold a body had been blunted and made weaker. Above the door was a circular machine, he read the faint writing and found it was a scanning bot. No chance of hurting himself in any way. 

"There's a closet with drawers in the wall by your desk and a bedside table to place your belongings on, the door to the ensuite in between the bed and the table," she smiled at him. 

"Your wristband gets you meals and access to rooms, just scan it. There's a PADD provided in the desk that gives access to groups and workshops at the clinic and there's a chat function with your therapist and other patients," she said. "Do you have any questions?"

He thought for a moment. 

"Do I have to go to any groups?"

"No, but we do recommend it, is that all?"

He nodded and let her leave before collapsing on his bed. For a place meant to help him recover it sure was overwhelming on the first day. All of the travelling and information had tired him out.

A knock on his door made him get up. All he wanted was to relax, why did someone have to bother him? But that attitude had made him shout at most of his friends. So perhaps there was a reason for this visit.

The door swooped open to reveal a man with crazy ginger hair and glasses. He stood with utmost posture and a lopsided smile. His clothes were white and crumpled.

He extended a hand to him, "Hi, I'm Elliot, your neighbour to the right,"

"Hi, I'm Leonard," he grumbled.

"Oh! I saw you on the news a few years ago, weren't you part of that team that saved that base?"

"Yorktown?" Leonard was never recognised.

"Yeah, is that why you're here? For trauma?"

He shook his head, not expecting to open up this early, "Depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, getting possessed and trying to hijack my ship, you know, the usual?"

Elliot laughed, it was high pitched and hurt his ears slightly.

"I know all about that,"

Leonard raised an eyebrow, "Possession?"

"No, depression," Elliot laughed. "Do you want to get something to eat? I could give you a proper tour of this place from the perspective of someone who, you know, actually lives here,"

Leonard thought for a moment and nodded, it's not like he had much else to do.

It was his fourth day at Auxida. He'd had a busy week, he'd met his therapist, started a journal and been to a Starfleet group and one for divorceés. He'd questioned himself when signing up for the latter but knew that talking about his actions and the trauma from the experience would only be a good thing.

The group for anxiety was on Saturday, two days from now, and ironically, it made him feel like he was full of bees.

The person next to him, their skin had a blue tinge, he thought they were an Albard but couldn't be sure. Mr Robert Baines thanked them for sharing and looked at Leonard while taking a sip of water.

He cleared his throat, it was time to say what he'd been preparing in his head all session.

"Hi, I'm Leonard McCoy," he gulped at the next bit. "And I have depression."

He supposed it would get easier over a few sessions. Rob made sure they said "Had depression" instead of "Am depressed". He knew why, it helped the brain see depression as it was, an illness or condition that could be recovered from. Or supposedly.

"This isn't the first time I've been this low, but it is the first time I've been here, in a place like this," he stroked his beard and looked at his feet stretched out in front of him. 

"Before it started when my dad got sick, I was a junior doctor and after his begging and lots of court cases I-" another hard bit. "I performed euthanasia on him, and a few weeks later a cure for the thing he was dyin' of, my family abandoned me and I didn't want to face my wife just in case she wasn't on my side,"

"So I fell into depression, I worked as much as I could, wasn't sleeping properly, wasn't eating properly, I'd just walk around, wouldn't go home," he said. "I wore down my wife's trust and was surprised when we had a massive argument, I stormed out but didn't leave, but I didn't go back in in time and she'd already called the guy she'd end up cheating on me with,"

"Then I threw myself in the opposite direction, hid all my feelings because I was feeling guilty for abandoning her but our communication wore down so much that I didn't tell her about the guilt," he took a sip of water. "And then she started seeing this guy Clay for dinner, or friends but she'd always smell of the same cologne or her belt would be different,"

"So I confronted her with no evidence and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. Our fights got worse, then she left for days and I had to tell our daughter why, all while my depression got worse. One night she comes back with divorce papers and my life got so much worse,"

"I lost everything and almost, oh god-"

"It's okay, take a few deep breaths," Rob said.

Leonard tried to do the breathing exercises he'd tried so many times and found that they worked this time. 

"I almost jumped off a bridge and got stopped by the guy at the liquor store, a few days later I was off to Starfleet," he left himself shudder for a moment before continuing. "And I recovered and thought it was over but I started to slip again about eighteen months ago, I knew the signs and was terrified because I lost everything last time and didn't want that to happen again."

He sniffed, "And despite all my efforts I did,"

Rob smiled at him, "Thanks for sharing, Leonard,"

He nodded and took a few silent gulps of air, he didn't want to intrude on the next person.

Dr Alfred Gerst smiled at Leonard from the chair to his left. The lights were soft and low, he’d been so overstimulated he almost didn't go, all he wanted to do was lie down.

Of course Alfie made sure he was comfortable every time. His voice was low and rumbling, a lilt to his accent from being a native German. He always had a smile in his eye and despite seeing him as a therapist, he reminded him of his dad.

"How's the journal going?"Alfie asked.

"Good actually, I'm trying to get into a morning routine, taking on some of Jim's advice,"

"Jim Kirk?"

Leonard nodded, "He's got ADHD and told me that if I'm struggling to motivate myself then say 'I'm just pulling the covers back,' then 'I'm just standing up', et cetera, et cetera,"

"That's good advice,"

"Yeah, I sit at my desk writing stuff down until I motivate myself to get ready," he looked down. "It takes longer than others some days,"

Alfie met his gaze, "That's okay, remember what I told you to say?"

"I'm a human first and everything else second,"

He smiled at him, "Anything in there you want to mention?"

He thought for a moment and flicked through the few pages he'd filled since his first appointment just under two weeks ago. Uhura had sent him some pens in the mail a few days ago. She journalled, often in the multitude of languages she learnt, it was part of her secret of being such a linguistic whiz.

"You told me about writing down emotions, thinking why I feel them and if it's over a short term or long term problem, but I'm not feeling anything," he felt a block in his throat.

Alfie hummed and sat back in the blue leather chair, he scratched his chin with his pen, "I see the issue, how to write emotion when you have none?"

Leonard nodded.

"What have you been doing?"

"Not writing about it?"

"Why don't you try writing about it like you would anyway? Just put no emotion and think why you're lacking,"

Leonard hummed and sipped some water.

"Would you like to try now?"

He nodded and sat back, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. Hopefully he'd feel something soon. He was sick of the void within him, wanted it to go away so he could enjoy life again. 

"So, you're feeling nothing, how long for?"

He and Elliot reached a bench on the lake and sat down exhausted. The afternoon sun glimmered on the water as it left the high noon point in the sky. A few birds were tweeting and trees blew to and fro in the wind. 

For the first time in a while, Leonard smiled at what he saw around him. It was another way of trying to be happy, making yourself notice a few positive, or at least neutral, things about the world or your life. It was working, slightly.

"Hey, Elliot, can I ask you something?"

He didn't ask him why he was here, he was suffering with depression just like him or he couldn't be in his sector.

"Sure," 

"Why are you so determined?"

"Determined?"

"To, you know, be better?"

Elliot paused and thought for a moment. He didn't look at Leonard, instead choosing to stare at the gaggle of geese waddling by them.

"I just got tired of being depressed and got help,"

Leonard huffed out a laugh, he knew you had to laugh at some things in here or there was no chance of recovery.

"You got tired?"

Elliot looked at him with a smile in his eyes, "I don't remember when I wasn't depressed," he messed with the flicks of skin around his fingernails. "The last time I remember being honestly, truly happy and not depressed and able to breathe was when I took my wife and kids to San Diego Zoo for a few days,"

He elbowed Leonard playfully, "And that was before my third kid was born, and she's almost ten now,"

His smile fell. It wasn't time to joke anymore.

"They say the ones who give birth are the ones who get depressed, not the father of the baby," he said. "But McKenzie was born and I just started to fall apart,"

"And after a divorce and trying to kill myself three times, I got sick of feeling so empty," 

He sniffed and Leonard felt like he stopped breathing. Maybe someone did understand? Maybe Elliot could somehow comprehend what made him fall so hard?

"And I want McKenzie to know me when I'm not depressed. She deserves more than that."

They sat in silence for a while watching the sun glimmer on the water. Elliot stood up and held out a hand.

Chapter Text

The glint of the light on the mirror reflected a rainbow on the white wall. He placed his beard comb onto the sink and ran his hands through the thick, itchy hair that he'd been growing over the past few months. Elliot had joked that it was a depression beard but he disagreed. He liked himself with a beard, thought it suited his face and had been happy for Starfleet regulations to finally be gone so he could grow one fully.

Today was visiting day, he'd had visits from his mother, his siblings, Jo and even Jocelyn. His friends had visited too, Uhura had delivered some Githeri she'd made with her mother, Sulu dropped off a card Demora had done, Scotty made sure to have afternoon tea with him and Spock, Jim brought him some books and Chekov his usual smile.

Today's visit made him the most nervous, though. He was seeing Christine and was trying to make an effort with his appearance. They'd called a few times, made some peace over their arguments but seeing her in person was different somehow.

He didn't need his therapist to tell him why he was anxious. It was the guilt, the memories of what he'd called her and her face, it came to him sometimes during the day. What if all their conversations had been lies? What if their time apart had made the rift between them bigger? What if they couldn't repair it?

Shaking his head, he left his room and marched down the many stairs to the visiting room. He knew why they put so many stars here, if he truly couldn't be motivated to get out, the amount of stairs made sure he got some exercise. 

He waved to a few people as he walked through the corridors and to the burghs visiting room. Its walls were paneled with glass and painted blue with large paintings of the ocean covering free spaces. 

A few people sat with their visitors, others picking at their skin as they waited. He took a seat at a table and poured some water into his mouth that went as dry as sandpaper. 

An alarm beeped, making him jump slightly, and Christine walked through the door. He held his breath and his heart beat in his throat. She looked magnificent, hair glowing in the faint sunlight, skin smooth and shiny against her white blouse. He wanted to hug her, delve into her like they used to after long shifts apart.

But he settled in his seat, shuffled and took another sip of water. She noticed him and smiled. He'd really missed her.

"Hi,"

"Hi,"

He gestured to the water, she nodded, he poured her some. It perplexed him how they could talk without words and how they were still able to after all these months.

"How are you?" She asked.

"Better, better," he didn't want to say good, he knew that was a lie. "Not good but better,"

"That's the goal, right?" 

He nodded and took a sip of water. Why was this so hard yet so easy? He knew exactly what he'd say if she was comfortable with him but that required asking, required confronting what he'd done wrong.

"I like the beard by the way, it really suits you," she laughed and the atmosphere loosened around his shoulders. 

He stroked it, "Thanks, I wanted to grow one in Starfleet but it went against regulation,"

"Leonard McCoy caring about petty regulations? Wow something is wrong," he joined in her laughter as they got a few looks from the others in the room.

She sat back and played the creases of her blouse, he took her in again. The slight bags under her eyes from the trip, her hair falling across her face like he knew she hated. 

He had to apologise now.

"I'm sorry for what I said about you being like the people who hurt you and about how much of a dick I was after we separated. You had my best interest in mind and it can't have been easy for you to come to that decision, tell me and live with my reaction while I was still your boss,"

She looked up at him and met his eyes. She dropped her smile but read that she was really listening.

"That took a lot of guts, and coming here, and I want you to know that I'm dealing with that with my therapist and in groups," he said. "I was a lot more hurt from the divorce, even after all this time, than I realised and all of that hurt came up when we broke up, I couldn't deal with it and I took it out on you."

He lent across the table and sighed, "I'm really sorry and I hope you can forgive me."

She pulled away, looked to the wall and waited. He let the quiet pull out despite something inside telling him she'd given up, that he wasn't worth it and should run away. He was worth it, he told that voice, and she deserved a lot better than that. This moment was vital to prove that he could put in the work and wait out the awkward parts until she was ready.

"Thank you for that," she said after a while. "I expected you to say that, for you to be better because you came here, you promised to everyone that you wanted to come back better."

She pulled a leg up on the bench and drank her water.

"But being here, seeing you, it's all so-"

"Different?" He interrupted.

She nodded.

"Yeah, I felt that way about seeing you," he explained. "I've only heard about what you're doing from others and finally seeing you after so long brought up memories and built up feelings, I can imagine it's the same way for you,"

She nodded, "I tried to tell myself that you were in a bad place when you said what you did, that you didn't mean it," she looked down. "But I talked to Uhura, and she said that, all of that's right, but that doesn't stop me being hurt,"

He nodded and felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

"I forgive you, by the way," she smiled. 

"Thanks," he said. "I just wanted to make it clear, I'm still not in the place for a relationship, if you wanted to, I mean?"

"I still want you, the beard's working its magic," she lent over and took his hands. "So, I'll wait for whenever you're ready,"

"Thank you," He stood up and gestured to the door. "Do you want a tour, madam?"

She let out a laugh that sounded like songbirds and nodded, taking his arm and letting him take her around his temporary home. 

"I think the divorce messed me up about other relationships, a lot more than I thought when I joined the Academy," he ran his thumb along his scratchy chin. "I thought if I went off to somewhere I hated, if I could face one of my greatest fears then what was a pesky divorce?"

"Turns out burying your feelings for years isn't a good idea," he looked around and heard a few people laugh with him.

"I fell in love with my best friend a few years later and I didn't tell him until we almost died. He didn't reciprocate my feelings and it kinda scares me how easily I put all of that away just so he wouldn't leave and I wouldn't be alone again, I pretended it didn't happen, made myself feel dumb for ever having them,"

He gulped, scratched his chin quicker, "The same guy died a few years later, we got him back but my friends, because I'd let people in by then, were shocked at how long I could run on a few hours of sleep, how many times I could tell them 'I'm fine' and 'I want to be there when he wakes up',"

"They forced me to look after myself and I tried my damn hardest to get better at looking after myself once he came 'round and healed," he said. "But when I was tested again with Christine and I failed, what I took from the divorce wasn't to talk about things healthily, what I took was not to mope around and show how badly I was doing like I did during during divorce,"

"I want to stop doing that." He said.

He slumped in his chair and hung his head. The water he drank felt cool on his tongue in the room was stifling and choking him.

Someone else began their story as he zoned out. He was still adjusting to all the communication. There was no pressure to talk in every group but he felt if he'd come this far, why not dismantle some fears along the way. That was what all of this was for, right? To heal and grow?

He slowed to a halt by the gleaming lake. Sweat dripped down his back while his chest continued to burn. Every part of him, in some form, was on fire. In a good way.

The air against his face put out some of the heat flaring inside him. It whipped up against him from the lapping tide of the lake in front of him. Mid morning sun bounced inconsistently against the water and into his eyes.

This was his second run of the week. He'd kept up his routine after making it a few weeks into his stay. Running had been a crutch in the Academy but the idea, the culture, around waking early to run kept him from reaching for it in his darkest moments. 

His therapist had duly noted that he didn't have to wake up early to run, he could go whenever he waked, or in the evening or middle of the day. It was a strange realisation for him to remember that he controlled his time and how he used it. Starfleet regiments had gotten into his head, as well as the doctor's hours, and made life seem like it had to occur between the hours of 6-8 and 4-10. 

He was happy to be dismantling that. In fact, a lot of dismantling was happening. It took everything he had not to fight the deconstruction of everything he relied on to cope, no matter how healthy. Having everything he thought was holding up brought down was terrifying. But he knew he'd build up good things again.

The foundations were rotten, he had to get rid of them, build new ones, better ones. Only from that could he build stronger, long lasting habits and attitudes. Only from that could he weather future storms. 

Chapter Text

The clouds drifted away from the sun and let it beam down on his face again. He saw the sun turn his eyelids red as he closed them and sighed. Below him, the ground was hard, the grass dry and wind trailing across his face. 

All of his friends were visiting him today and the weather was blessing them. It hadn’t been too sunny all week, no rain but the wind rolled across the lake and spat the water at him as he ran. The overcast sky kept him away. 

The void had been calling all the time he was here, playing devil’s advocate with everything he did but not picking one track for him. Most days he could pass by, using his energy to fight the voice in his head and improve himself. But this week had been tough, there had been many while he’d been here, he had no energy to talk in the groups or pick up the knitting needles. The only thing keeping him going, apart from getting out of here, was their visit.

Bones cracked an eye open. Jim was whistling a tune as he stretched like a cat in the sun, Bones remembered him like this, lazing in the sun. The others were talking amongst themselves. He’d missed this.

He saw Chekov sitting with his legs crossed, head up to the sky. The memory of Sulu's party, how he'd unintentionally saved his life, flashed to mind. If there was any better chance to thank him, it was now.

"I'm gonna tell you guys something and it's gonna shock or hurt you but I don't want to keep it hidden," he said. "On the night of Sulu's party, when I asked to have that time off, I was going to kill myself,"

He heard their gasps and made himself look, he knew what he didn't know would scare him later on. Their eyes were tearful, Sulu's hands were tense on his shirt and Spock showed no emotion. Not the normal kind but in the way where it seemed they were snatched from him.

"But, Chekov knocked on the door saying he was going to the party with me, we went, I was put on the away mission anyway and got possessed. So no suicide," 

Jim lay a hand on his, some colour came back to Spock's face and Chekov's eyes widened. His breathing was shallow but cheeks tinged red.

"I-I didn't know,"

"Kinda the point, but thanks, even if you had no idea,"

Chekov smiled and looked at the sky. The others said their piece, Leonard explained more, but a kind of weight left him. He didn't feel magically better, the anxiety hangover was still there, but telling them and seeing their support made it a little easier. Just quite

The rain had finally come. His stomach was in knots, had been for days, and he knew it wasn't a physical problem. He was set to leave in a fortnight and it seemed that all the progress he'd made had reversed. 

Although he'd been knitting all day to give him something to do, the feel of the wool and continuous action did nothing to calm his anxiety. He struggled to move, the thought of leaving and facing the possibility of falling again was terrifying. 

Elliot had sat with him for a while but his own progress called him. He would be staying for a while longer, he'd been depressed longer than he hadn't and needed time to heal.

Leonard placed the half-knitted scarf onto his lap. His coffee was cold and eyes dragging lower and lower. Everything felt like white noise.

He hadn't taken a break in hours. Some of the advice his therapist gave came to mind. One task they'd been working on was his recovery routine, so far he had going for a bath, changing his clothes and eating. There were other steps he'd tried but the main aim was not to sink on the floor, uncomfortable and hungry.

Maybe he could call Christine, they'd fallen into the habit of calling in tough times. In a way, he loved hearing about the shitty patients and her aching feet. It distracted him and made him think of the start of their relationship- he had the same fluttering feeling all over.

Yeah, he'll call her. He got up with a spring in his shuffle and a dull smile on his face.

After squishing the last of his clothes into his bag, he’d gained quite a lot after he’d picked up knitting again, he sighed and heaved it onto his shoulder. He scanned the empty white space and the jittery feeling that he’d been carrying with him for the last few weeks strengthened in his gut. 

Calling Christine was helping, her voice and laugh and humour eased the pain. Everything was still there, but he had things in place now to help. He could see light at the end of the tunnel, it was far off, but there. That was more than he had a few months ago.

Elliot was outside his door and joined him as they started down the many flights of stairs. 

“What are you gonna do when you get out?” he said.

“Go for a drink and clean my house, I haven't been there for over 2 years and there's only so much I can ask my Ma and siblings to do," he said. "It's a big farmhouse on the edge of a small town, got fresh air and horses and a big kitchen for cooking. It'll do me good."

Elliot smiled as they reached the ground floor. He could tell it was an uneasy one. 

They reached the doors to the reception, to a new start and stood around for a while. Neither had the heart to look the other in the eye.

"Good luck out there," Elliot said.

"Good luck in here,"

Leonard pulled him into a hug and realised how thin the other man was. He couldn't say they'd keep in touch but he knew he'd remember him, even if this was their last point of contact.

He pulled away and slapped him on the shoulder, "I'll see you around,"

"See ya,"

Leonard picked his bag back up and walked through the white doors. He expected some kind of bright light but just saw his friends.

Jim was bouncing on his feet, Spock stoic, Sulu, Chekov, Uhura and Scotty had beaming smiles.

Christine's smile was in her eyes. She'd cut her hair, it was neat around her jaw with a few gentle waves. She wore a pastel blue jumper that he knew would be soft to the touch. All he could think of was delving into a hug and never letting go.

"You're out! Yay!" Jim high fived him and pulled him into a hug, his energy spreading to him like electricity.

The others crowded around, took his bag and told him they'd do whatever he wanted to celebrate. The only non negotiable was that they were going to celebrate. He decided on dinner at someone's apartment, anyone's, then he'd beam to Georgia a few days later. 

He turned to Christine and sighed. She opened her arms and he fell into them, folding his arms under her armpits and resting them on her shoulders. He nestled himself into the crook of her neck. 

He'd missed her.

"By the way, if you're ready, I'd like to try again, with us," she whispered into his ear.

He looked up and pulled out of the hug, "I'd like that," he said with a smile.

"We'll arrange for a drink in a few days then,"

He nodded and turned to sign the few documents he needed to go freely. The world was out there, waiting for him, and he was so glad to have something inside himself that wanted to see it.