I Wish I Could Not Feel (Part 2)

So I know I marked this fic as complete, but it didn't feel finished. I got some encouragement to add some more to it, and therefore did so.

Warnings: Mention of major character death and some angst. Oh, and mention of Spock/Uhura (if you're not a fan of that), but it's not much.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek.

He stood in the gully, his gaze switching rapidly between the three enemy ships that surrounding him.

So this was it. There wasn't a way out. Even if Spock had still been with him…

It's their fault. They're the ones who killed him.

Maybe they hadn't killed him directly, but they were part of the larger force that had attacked the Enterprise. They were the reason he was all alone on this strange planet.

They were the reason that at least one of his friends…perhaps all of them…were dead.

Useless as it was, rage roared to life within him, drowning out his fear. "COME ON, YOU BASTARDS!" Dr. McCoy screamed.

The ships began to close in.

And McCoy unexpectedly felt the strange tugging and dissolving sensation that came with being dematerialized by a transporter.

The fear came back, but it was the familiar terror of being converted into an energy pattern and back again. I hate this! he thought automatically, as he always did.

But it was preferable to being blown to bits by hostile aliens.

When the lights cleared, the first thing he saw was the grinning face of James T. Kirk. "Bones!" the captain shouted happily. "You're okay!"

Glancing around, McCoy saw that he had materialized in a rather old-fashioned transporter room, and that Montgomery Scott was the one at the controls. Next to him stood Ensign Pavel Chekov. Both looked pleased to see him.

Jim ran up to the transporter pad and gripped McCoy's shoulders. "Well, Bones, I think it was a miracle that we found you, but I'm sure glad we did. Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Franklin."

"Aye, it's an old ship; I wasn't sure if the transporters could function well enough to bring you aboard." Scotty admitted.

"We couldn't have managed more than one at a time; something we are trying to fix so we can rescue the rest of the crew." Chekov added.

McCoy was still trying to adjust to the fact that he wasn't still in the gully with the enemy ships. "Who…who's here with you?" he asked hazily.

"Just us and this girl who's been here for a while…alien, name of Jaylah." Jim frowned slightly. "We think we may have figured out the location of some survivors…the Enterprise crashed, Bones…but I was wondering; did you see Spock? Before you got to the planet?"

The memory of Spock's death that morning hit McCoy like a falling starship. Oh, God, no…How can I tell Jim…I can't…

"Bones!" Jim's voice sounded oddly distant. "Chekov, help me!" McCoy felt two pairs of arms reaching to steady him as he nearly collapsed, guiding him to sit on the step of the transporter pad. "Scotty, ask Jaylah to find the medical supplies she mentioned were aboard…"

"I'm not hurt." McCoy said dully. He tried to focus his blurry eyes and found himself staring directly into Jim's clear blue ones. The captain was crouched beside him, hand on his shoulder while Chekov stood worriedly on the other side and Scotty watched from in front of the transporter control panel.

"Bones, talk to me. What's going on?" Jim looks so damn concerned…
"Did you see Mr. Spock?" Chekov queried.

McCoy swallowed, his throat so dry it nearly choked him. "Yeah, I did." It came out as a whisper.

"When? When did you last see him?" By the looks of it, Kirk was aiming to interrogate him until everything came out.

What would Spock do? McCoy wondered vaguely. Of course, he knew the answer. Spock would stick to the facts, plain and simple. "We…we landed on the planet together." He paused, taking a shuddering breath. "He was injured. Badly."

"Did you leave him somewhere? If so, we can find him." Scotty said quickly.

McCoy clenched his jaw so tightly that it hurt. Yeah, Mr. Scott, I left him. I left him in an alcove in a cave, walled in with rocks in the hope that some scavenger wouldn't find and eat his remains. Hell, yes, I'd say I left him somewhere!

Seemingly sensing his distress, the others said nothing while he struggled to form his reply. "I…I couldn't…" He tried to keep his emotions under control…Damn it, I'm no Vulcan…but despite his efforts, a couple tears managed to escape his eyes. "Jim, I'm sorry…I couldn't save him." It pained him to say it, but with the words came a small sense of relief.

Relief that vanished as Jim Kirk stood, walked over to the nearest wall, and slammed both fists into it with a anguished yell.

Spock was his friend, almost his brother. Though Chekov and Scotty were staring, apparently unable to tear their gazes away, McCoy couldn't bear to watch Jim break down. He buried his face in his hands trying to block out the curse words the captain began to spew out in a vengeful stream.

They won the battle in the end, but it was a difficult victory.

With Jaylah's knowledge of Krall's base, they managed to rescue the other crew members. They managed to repair the Franklin enough to get it off the planet. They managed to catch up with Krall and defeat him before he could destroy Starbase Yorktown.

While using annoyingly ancient medical instruments to repair Jim's damaged knuckles, McCoy made a resolution. He would not let the loss of Spock overwhelm him. Not until the battle was over.

He owed the former first officer that much.

Everyone else, even Uhura, seemed to make similar decisions when they learned of the half-Vulcan's death. Except for Kirk.

For the remainder of the fight against Krall, Jim Kirk was clearly fueled by reckless fury. McCoy and the rest of the command crew had seen that kind of murderous rage before: when Khan's actions had resulted in Kirk's death and Spock attempted to get revenge.

However, with the advice of his crew, Jim was able to make choices that, while risky, weren't so foolhardy that they resulted in everyone's death. Chekov, in particular, was a convincing voice of reason in the chaos of the fight for Yorktown.

McCoy kept his mouth shut, though. Jim hadn't said a word directly to him since the exchange in the transporter room and the doctor wasn't eager to start any more conversations yet. Not while there was so much at stake.

He wasn't thrilled when they came up with a plan that involved him and that clever Russian kid beaming aboard one of the alien swarm ships. But he remembered Spock, gritted his teeth and went through with it.

Together, Scotty and Chekov came up with some nutty scheme to use Jaylah's loud music and VHF transmissions to defeat the swarm. The only thing weirder than the idea was the fact that it worked.

Kirk ended up having a showdown with Krall in the starbase's ventilation system. As usual, he managed to save everyone.

Perhaps his anger helped in this case.

McCoy and Chekov, still in the alien ship, saved Kirk (barely) before he was sucked out to space with Krall and his bizarre weapon of mass destruction.

For a moment, as Jim lay on the floor of the craft looking up at McCoy, he looked like his regular devil-may-care self. "Nice flying, Bones." he said appreciatively.

"Thanks." McCoy smiled back.

Grinning cheerfully, Jim grabbed a communicator and hailed the Franklin.

His smile faded when it was Sulu who answered.

McCoy couldn't meet his friend's gaze anymore. Now that the battle was over, he fully expected to glimpse accusation in Jim Kirk's expression.

He didn't know if he could bear seeing that.

The small, out-of-the-way observation room was empty except for Dr. McCoy. He wanted it to stay that way.

Glancing distastefully over the magnificent starbase visible outside the window, he tipped back the bottle he held and swallowed another mouthful of whisky. He was getting closer to getting completely drunk, and was grateful for it.

All he wanted was to forget. And it was this or hypo-ing himself with something. Drinking was usually more pleasant.

Idiot…incompetent fool…you let him die…you should've done more…

These thoughts ran through his head over and over again in an endless circle.

Spock's gone and it's all your fault.

The last he had heard, Uhura was in very bad shape over it and had become extremely withdrawn into herself. She had loved the pointy-eared bastard.

Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty had been spending a lot of time mourning together; in other words, they were also reminiscing and getting drunk, just in a group rather than alone.

And Jim…

McCoy didn't want to think about it.

Damn it, I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to save lives, not just stand by and let people die.

Some still-rational part of his mind reminded him that there was nothing he could have done, given the circumstances, but he'd stopped listening to that part of him a long time ago.

It's my fault. I should've died on that planet, not Spock.

It had been a couple weeks, now. Plans were already in place to construct another Enterprise.

A ship which I will not be on.

He was planning on drafting his resignation whenever he finally got sick of drinking himself into unconsciousness.

Speaking of such, he was just about to take another mouthful of alcohol when the door behind him opened. He didn't turn around, not even when the new arrival said quietly, "Bones." Then there was silence.

McCoy took another gulp of whisky. Damn it, kid, if you want to chew me out, do it now and get it over with.

Jim Kirk did not do so.

There were chairs in the room, but McCoy was sitting on a low step down to an open viewing area. Jim sat down next to him. "Bones, as strange as it is for me to be the sensible one, I'm telling you that you need to stop this."

"Stop what?" McCoy turned slightly to glare at the younger man.

Jim made a helpless gesture with his hands. "This. Drinking. Blaming yourself."

"Who said I was…"

"Damn you, Bones, I know you are. I've done it enough times myself."

That shocked the doctor into silence for a minute. Slowly, he lowered the bottle to the floor. "Fine, I am blaming myself. Because it's my fault."

"Your fault? Is it really your fault that Krall attacked us? Your fault that the Enterprise went down? Your fault that Spock was too badly injured for anyone…not just you, Bones, anyone…to do anything about it?" Jim was shouting now. "I hate to go all logical on you, but that just doesn't make any damn sense, Bones! If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, because the safety of the ship and crew was my responsibility, not yours!"

McCoy laughed bitterly. "When did you grow up, kid?" Then, angrily, "You didn't see Spock die, did you? You don't have to live with the guilt of knowing that you did your best but wishing that you'd done more! You didn't have to tell your best friend that his most loyal officer died because you weren't good enough to save him!" He stopped, breathing heavily. However, he felt a strange sense of release as the words stopped pouring out of him.

Jim didn't answer right away. When he did, he said softly, "They found his body, Bones. The other starship that went to the planet to look at the wreckage…They're bringing his body back now."

McCoy looked down at his hands. "I guess we can finally have a funeral."

"Yeah." They stayed quiet for a few minutes, watching the distant figures on the starbase's many interlacing strips of city. "They're giving me the new Enterprise."

"Naturally." McCoy shifted uncomfortably. "Who…who is going to be the first officer?"

"I'm still working on it. But…no matter who gets that position, I'm going to need a chief medical officer."

McCoy turned to meet Kirk's unwavering gaze. "Jim, I…"

"Just listen." Jim took a deep breath. "Did you know that Krall was actually Balthazar Edison, former captain of the Franklin? You heard? Well, he said that conflict makes us strong, and unity makes us weak. I don't believe that." Shaking his head slightly, he continued, "I've just lost one of my best friends, Bones. I don't want to lose another."

McCoy looked out at the stars barely visible beyond Yorktown's translucent spherical barrier. "He'd be giving us the eyebrow over this illogical, emotional discussion, wouldn't he?"

"Yeah, I guess he would be."

After a moment, McCoy reached out and rested his hand on Jim's shoulder. "All right, Jim. I'll join you on the rest of your bloody five-year space mission. But as your CMO I'm ordering you to get more rest before you do embark on it. You look terrible."

It was true enough; Jim was still slightly bruised from his confrontation with Krall and had dark circles under his eyes from not getting enough sleep. But his grin was almost as lively as ever. "And as your captain, I'm ordering you to lay off the alcohol. I'm a big fan of it, as you know, but…you're just going overboard."

"Okay, Jim, I'll try to limit it. Eventually. Maybe when they finish that new starship and I actually have to be on duty."

Jim chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, Bones!"

McCoy managed a small smile in response.

It's going to be one hell of a road to recovery. But Spock would want us to move on, wouldn't he?

True enough. They'd recover and carry on, as Spock would've found it logical for them to do.

But they would never forget.

Okay, so it's a little more than what was asked for. I couldn't help myself.

Also, I wasn't certain about writing Kirk a little more mature than usual, but I felt that it fit in this situation.

Reviews appreciated (and thanks to those who reviewed on the first chapter).