White Flag

[bungakertas]

Rating: PG-13
Warning(s) : none
Pairing(s) : none
Disclaimer: Star Trek and all attendant characters and concepts are the property of Paramount Studios. No money changed hands and no copyright infringement is intended or implied.
Summary: Spock and McCoy have a conversation after their experiences on Platonius. It does not end with an argument.
Spoilers: Everything is up for grabs (barring DIS or anything involving JJ Abrams, all of which are Emphatically Not Canon, as far as I am concerned). Most specifically, though, “Plato’s Stepchildren.”
Author's Notes: I recently re-watched “Plato’s Stepchildren” and…that episode is tough.

This story is written with the assumption that you have also watched “Plato’s Stepchildren” and know what happened in it. The episode is on Netflix if you need a refresher.

*~*~*

Spock looked curiously around the sickbay, having resigned himself to a certain amount of poking and prodding to satisfy McCoy. The doctor rarely adhered to any system of discernible logic, but Spock had learned that was not quite the same thing as his not have a reason for his decisions. Sometimes those reasons were even valid, if somewhat abstruse. So when he had been ordered to one of the biobeds, he had taken a seat on it (though he had not lain down as yet) and remained without protest.

Alexander, the man they had rescued from the planet—the captain had eventually logged it with the temporary designation “Platonius,” though he disliked doing so—had been shocked at the ship, and the people on it, and being assigned his own room. He had been outright astonished when McCoy had given him a routine physical. McCoy said he was surprisingly healthy, despite injuries over the years of varying levels of severity. When he’d prescribed a round of medications to help the man heal from his current bumps and bruises faster, and to compensate for the dietary deficiencies that the Platonians had subjected him to until he was acclimated the ship’s more rounded nutrition, Alexander had actually cried in gratitude.

Ordinarily, Spock did not approve of tears. However, given the enormity of the change Alexander had undergone, and the suddenness of it, Spock believed that even Surak himself would’ve deemed the cause sufficient. One of the nurses—not Chapel who had accepted the doctor’s offer of a several days off-duty and practically fled the sickbay—offered to escort him to his stateroom. Spock watched a number of curious expressions flit over the doctor’s face as Alexander left.

When the door hissed closed, McCoy waited a moment and then picked up a glass tumbler from his desk to throw it against the wall. Hard. Hard enough to shatter it. The pieces fell to the floor with a tinkling sound and McCoy stared at them for a moment.

“Do you require an examination, Doctor?” Spock asked after several seconds had passed.

“I keep going over and over it,” McCoy replied quietly. “What could I have done differently?” He turned. “Well? You’re the vulcan! Don’t you have some brilliant, logical insight? How did my humanity let me down this time?”

Spock raised a brow at McCoy. It was true that they both derived a certain amount of satisfaction from their verbal sparring. Human intuition versus vulcan logic. The never-ending tension and harmony of the two. But the phrasing was curious. McCoy never ordinarily suggested being human would be a failing on his part. In fact, he was usually very emphatic that it was the opposite.

Something must be truly upsetting him. Given the circumstances, Spock hardly found that surprising. The problem was that there were so may possibilities to choose from that Spock was uncertain which one in particular was the primary source of the doctor’s distress.

He would have to settle for simply answering the question as it was asked. “You did not fail. The action you took was not only logical, but correct.”

McCoy scowled. “I should be satisfied with that, shouldn’t I?”

“Doctor,” Spock replied, “I would no more presume to tell you how you ought to respond to a trauma than you would do so to our new friend Alexander.”

“What trauma?” McCoy snapped. “They did all this to you, to Jim, to Uhura and Christine! All I did was sit there and watch!”

Of course. Guilt. Spock was uncertain why he had not recognized it at once. Aside from the fact that he was also extremely distressed at present.

“Doctor, your suffering due to the actions of the Platonians is no less valid than my own. Nor are you responsible for any of their actions.”

McCoy looked like he was about fire back a heated response, but he stopped, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Thanks.” It was a mumble, barely audible.

“Doctor, I believe I shall order you to speak with a counselor. The captain has set our course for starbase to afford us some recovery and Alexander a chance to register as a Federation citizen. You will report to the counselor’s office within forty-eight hours of our arrival,” Spock informed him.

McCoy stared at him in irritation and then started laughing. It was a far cry from his usual direct good humor, but it was genuine.

“I suppose I deserve that.”

“It is no punishment, as you well know. But you would not do it if not ordered,” Spock replied.

“I suppose you’re right,” he sighed. McCoy picked up his medical tricorder. “Well, it’s your turn for the ritual.”

Spock frowned curiously as McCoy scanned him, seeming to focus in particular around his head. “I suffered no physical attacks. What is it you seek to know?”

“I seek to know,” McCoy replied, using that particular tone he always did when copying Spock’s words back to him, “whether you sustained any neurological damage when they forced all those emotions on you. And your neurotransmitter levels are at a severe deviation from baseline. Come on. We’ll do a scan so I can see if there’s any damage, or if it’s just a response to…today.”

Spock followed him deeper into sickbay and allowed himself to be bundled under a more intensive scanner. He had been meaning to ask about an aspect of the doctor’s behavior that he found extremely puzzling, but he had not yet deemed it the proper time. However, McCoy was becoming more relaxed as he worked, so it was likely the time would come soon.

McCoy had Spock lay down beneath his machine and he began the scan. It was complete in approximately two minutes. Spock sat up and evaluated the doctor. Now, perhaps, was the most appropriate time there would ever be. There was some time between the taking of the scan and the computer’s display of the results.

“Doctor. I would be gratified if you would permit me an inquiry,” Spock said.

“You’ve never hesitated before,” McCoy returned.

Spock had to allow that to be the case. “It has never before been today.”

“No. No, it hasn’t.”

“I have always been under the impression you would prefer it if I exhibited emotions,” Spock said.

McCoy frowned and seemed to spend a long time thinking about his answer. Finally, he said, “I wouldn’t yell at you so much, I suppose.”

Interesting. It was not precisely a denial, but the lack of an affirmative response cast the answer more closely to denial than Spock would have supposed.

“I am puzzled, then, why you disliked of the Platonians requiring displays of emotion from me?”

McCoy gaped at him. “You can’t possibly think I’d approve of what they did! Spock, even you can’t think that low of me!”

“I do not think you approve of their actions. I simply do not understand why you disliked that particular result.”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed, but the anger left him. Then he nodded and said, “I suppose that is a different question again. Spock, I like my emotions.”

“That is evident.”

“And I think you would like yours, if you’d ever let yourself. Maybe differently than I would, and maybe it’d be hard for you at first, but…well, it’s good to feel things. Most of the time, anyway,” McCoy said. “But all of that? It only works when they’re your emotions. And any emotion can be damaging if you feel it too much or too suddenly or with no control over it.”

Spock blinked in surprise. “I had not thought you believed in emotional control.”

“Spock, everybody believes in emotion control of some kind,” McCoy returned. “Surak didn’t invent it, he was just systematic about it.”

Spock nodded. “I believe I understand your answer. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

McCoy looked over the scan results, and said, “Well, it looks like you don’t have any neurological damage after all, so there’s some good news.”

“You did state that I had abnormal neurotransmitter levels.”

“After today, Spock, I’d’ve been alarmed if you’d had normal ones. You’re upset. You may be hiding it down in that vulcan psyche of yours, but you are.”

“I have said as much, have I not?” Spock replied.

“You have, which is why I’m ordering light duty for you until after we leave starbase.”

“Doctor—”

“But me no buts, Spock. I told Jim the same thing. It’s an order, and I’m putting it in the log.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I was only going to say, ‘thank you.’”

McCoy looked like he was about to make one of his usual acerbic remarks, and then he stopped himself. “You know what? Truce. I’m not going to squabble with you until we leave starbase. Maybe I should put that in the log.”

Spock frowned. “Do I seem so weak?”

McCoy sighed and turned away, busying himself straightening some instruments on a nearby tray that had appeared perfectly organized before the doctor began adjusting them. “No, Spock, it’s me. I just don’t have the spirit for it at the moment.”

Spock blinked in surprise. The doctor had never made such a statement. Never come close in the entire course of their acquaintance. It was, perhaps, as shocking and unhidden a statement as when he had admitted to his own anger and hatred while on the planet. Spock stood and laid an hand on McCoy’s shoulder gently.

McCoy looked over in surprise.

“Very well, Bones. A truce.”

McCoy looked relieved. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Spock.”

“I shall.” Spock removed his hand. Then, after a moment, he said, “In fact, I believe there is a game that you would perhaps enjoy learning. Are you familiar with kal toh?”

McCoy blinked. “Vulcans have games?”

“Indeed. It is, of course, a game of logic. But it is one that seeks to find harmony and order in a seemingly chaotic arrangement.”

McCoy looked thoughtful. “You know, that does sound pretty nice.”

“Then I shall endeavor to teach it to you. Will the recreation area at 0730 suffice?”

“I’ll be there.”

THE END

Author's Notes: I know, kal toh isn’t introduced until VOY. But I’m not rejecting all the other Treks.