2001 Golden Orgasm Award: Third Place TOS Spock/McCoy
Challenge of the doctor_q_fest
Title: Deep down in my dreams
Author: Lady Charena
Codes: S(Mirror)/Mc, POV
Feedback: If you like - <LadyCharena@aol.com>
Summary: McCoy has to deal with his encounter with the Spock from the Mirror-Universe
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek. This story is mine and only fanfiction. No moneymaking or no offence of copyrights is intended. If you are under age or have a problem with homosexuality, please stay away.
English is not my native language, so please be patient with mistakes. My thanks to T'Len and Lisa for beta. If there are remaining errors, blame me.
Well, here it comes – my first try at that pairing...
Deep down in my dreams
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lady Charena, Sept. 01
It's kind of silly... No, no, Leonard - think! It isn't the least bit silly to feel... used, dirty.
After all, Spock told me - after reading my report - he... the other Spock - "the pirate" as Jim called him... raped my mind.
I remember my instructions about the counselling of victims of violation very clearly. But they all speak about an abuse of the body and how to deal with the mental consequences resulting from it. None of my instructors ever thought about a mental rape and its physical effects. The only telepathic race known at this time was the Vulcans, but with their stern morals, they were never considered capable of such a thing.
And now... now I've been mind-raped by a Vulcan and I don't know how to deal with it.
Jim tries to get me to talk about it. Says I need to get it out of my gut. As if I didn't know, I'm the doctor around here. It's just easier said than done. If I don't talk about it - I don't have to think about it. Cut the crap, Leonard.
Good old Spock tried to talk to me, too. He even offered a meld two days ago to help me deal with the memories.
It's almost funny to see my two best friends trying to counsel their usual counsellor...
Of course I declined Spocks offer. Kindly and without revealing the panic that rose in me at the mere suggestion. I told him I was fine and that it had been mainly already forgotten.
After a moment he just nodded and accepted my evasive answer. Or I hoped so at least, but maybe he knew my true reason all along. He's a fine observer and one of the gentlest persons I have ever met. In his own manner even a kind of healer.
I lied to him because I simply cannot stand the thought of somebody touching my mind again. Even in an attempt to help.
It's not because every time I look at Spock I can see the pirate - even without the beard, I find fascinating similarities: the way Spock walks, his unconscious gestures like tipping his head to one side to listen or crossing his arms in front of his chest as if to ward off an invisible enemy.
It's because he is Spock. He... I think he means a lot more to me than I care to know. I cannot stand him touching me in this way. For it would taint him too...
I remember clearly the... feel of the... meld. It was awful. Damn, I need a drink to rinse the bitter taste out of my mouth.
Where is that bottle Scotty gave me shortly after our return from the Mirror-Universe two weeks ago? It can put an elephant to sleep - or so Scotty told me with a grin, but I'm not entirely sure that it was only a joke... I could use a little sleep.
Ah, there it is. It smells like it could kill an elephant (and not just elephants) and burns down my throat. My eyes water and I have to gasp for air. But it leaves soothing warmth in my stomach and I feel a little relaxation spreading through my body.
Where did I stop? Ah, yes...
I am unable to sleep more than two or three hours a night. Even the famous little red pills I always prescribe Jim for his nightmares - and boy, that man has nightmares - won't help. They leave me dizzy and sick, but I stay wide-awake most of the night nevertheless. And to be honest, I welcome insomnia more than the dreams that started after...
But wait a minute. Wasn't that a knock on my door? Go away, I'm not in here. Of course I do not utter the words aloud.
It's Christine. I straighten my slumped posture, but I don't care about the bottle and the glass on my desk. I'm not on duty.
"Anything I can do for you, Chris?"
She looks like she's about to run away, should I be in - as she calls it - "my grumpy mode". Half of my staff tiptoes around me as if walking on eggshells, and the other half stays out of my way whenever possible.
I've been more than just a little irritable this last two weeks, I know. I’ve felt ready to jump out of my skin.
"Won't you go to sleep, Leonard? You look like you could use some," she says.
"Thanks a lot." As soon as it's out of my mouth I regret the snappy answer. "Sorry, Chris, I didn't mean it. I'm not very sleepy these days."
She isn't convinced. "Are you still worrying about your trip to the Mirror-Universe?" she asks quietly. "You never told me about..."
I feel my anger rise again. "Who sent you? Jim? Spock? I do not need to talk about it. I know how to deal with this myself!"
She looks shell-shocked before she retreats to the door. "I ask forgiveness, Doctor McCoy," she says formally, turns and walks away.
I'm quite shocked, too. I've never yelled at her like this. "Sorry, Chris," I murmur even if she cannot hear me. "I promise I explain some day to you some day."
I pour another drink and down it in one gulp. My anger burns itself out and I feel cold again. Always cold. Most of all in my dreams...
Ahh... we're back to the main topic, aren't we? To my dreams.
Every time I close my eyes to sleep, I pray I won't dream again. It never works.
I dream of him... the other Spock, the pirate. I feel his touch then - his fingers sliding across my features to cover the meld points with practised ease.
I recall clearly I thought that he appeared to do this quite often with Humans...
His face close to mine, revealing nothing at all. His eyes hard and dark like stone. Thus far my dream follows the truth. But then it changes to something that never happened. And that's the part I fear most...
I relive the pain of the meld in my dreams, sharp and cold. Like being stabbed with a blade made of ice. The way his eyes change... into fathomless pools, lit by an inner fire.
I want to struggle, to fight him off, to scream... and can do none of these things. His body keeps me pressed up against the wall.
Suddenly he releases me and I slump bonelessly to the floor. He approaches me and I close my eyes. He kneels next to me, bending over me. Again I can feel his fingers skimming across my face and I feel his breath hot upon my skin. I dare not to look at him.
After an endless moment, his fingers fall from my face and I feel relief. But not for long. Because the next thing I know are his hands, tearing open my shirt, my pants.
I swear I can smell his arousal even now, wide-awake...
He drags me to my feet and turns me to face the wall. I feel the cold air on my bare skin and shiver. He presses his body close to mine. Again I try to fight him off, but he is so much stronger and even with the strength panic gave me, I'm way too weak. Suddenly I go all cold and calm. I try to brace me for the pain I know must come...
It's only in my dream... there was never enough time for him to do so in reality. Jim and the others were already waiting in the transporter-room.
I wait for him to penetrate me, to rape me - but it never happens. Instead he turns me so I have to face him.
I open my eyes... and it's not the pirate... it's Spock, watching me with an open look of disgust in his familiar features.
In that moment I usually wake up, sweat-soaked, trembling and sick. That's why I sit alone in my office in sickbay and try to drink myself into oblivion. That's why I fear sleep...
I have no... logical... explanation of why I dream this way. Maybe my mind is trying to digest the events by turning them into a more physical – a more tangible - threat.
But I think deep down in my dreams there waits a hidden truth to be revealed.