Olduvai.

Motherfucking Olduvai.

Would he never get rid of that place?

Some part of Leonard McCoy noticed how wide a berth his staff was giving him as he stuffed a bag with everything he needed for the mission, but he couldn't really give a fuck about them right now. He was restless—agitated—more so than usual, and none of them would even begin to understand why. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he swept through his Medical facility, grabbing this and that from here and there, his eyes, hands and feet on autopilot as he packed his kit.

None of them dared to ask why he didn't just take the standard bag he always brought.

Olduvai.

Sonovabitch.

Olduvai.

He didn't want to go to Olduvai. Not again. Not after everything he'd lost, after everything that godforsaken place had taken from him. Parents. Family. Life.

Death.

He'd give anything to go back to being a human being, because Olduvai had taken that from him too. Fucking Olduvai. And fucking Star Fleet, wanting to make Mars a testing ground for their new Genesis technology. His effort of blowing up the Arc was now nullified by the advancement of technology, by Man's audacity to reach for the stars and boldly go where no man has gone before.

Fuck.

"Doctor McCoy?" He almost snarled at the intrusion, though he'd registered her movements and anticipated her enough to keep himself in check. "The Captain paged… He's waiting for you at the bridge."

Did she think he was deaf?

"I heard him," he replied curtly, his eyes turning away from her to inspect his kit and decided that Dr. McCoy was as ready as he'll ever be.

Now it was Reaper's turn to saddle up.

By the time he reached the bridge, he was one minute late, a fact that First Officer Spock immediately announced with clear disapproval. Leonard snapped at him and told him where he could shove it while pulling on his—admittedly unneeded, but no one else knew that—auto-converter air mask. Jim, ignorant of what was causing his mood, tried to tell him to just stay on the Enterprise, which of course made him all the more angry.

"Just fucking energize already!" he groused at Scotty, who blinked once and quickly pressed the button, sending them down via transporter. Yet another reason to hate the goddamn teleportation pad—it reminded him too much of the Arc's unique method of travel, minus the obligatory nausea and subsequent puke that was sure to follow.

"I hate this fucking place," he muttered, glaring at the familiar walls of the Atrium, hating that even after two centuries, it was still so hauntingly recognizable. The walls were no longer a clean white color, and the floor was covered with a similar layer of dust disturbed only by the people he was with.

Good. That means no one's been here since he last left it.

"What the hell is this?" Glancing over briefly, he spied Captain James T. Kirk wrinkling his nose at a lump of burnt flesh, and with a jolt, he realized—

Sarge.

Memories he'd buried deep into the recess of his mind came flooding back. Training. Missions. Camaraderie. His team—Sarge, Mac, Goat, Destroyer, Duke, Portman, Kid. Goat, crashing on his impromptu operation table. Mac, killed in a laboratory with only half his head connected to his neck. Destroyer, beaten to death. Portman, bashed and burnt. Kid, shot by his own Commander during his first and only mission. Duke, pulled through the grates like a rag. Sarge—

Sarge.

He'd known Sarge was dead, of course. He killed Sarge himself, sending him and a grenade through the Arc before it closed. He'd relied on the ST grenade to destroy the Mars Arc permanently, to ensure that none of the surviving mutants, if any, could follow to Earth.

If any. Ha! Jim Kirk's capacity for attracting trouble practically ensured that there were still some of his old demons lingering in this hell.

His demons, not theirs. It's why he came with them. After all, while Spock may be a match for their strength, they were fast motherfuckers, and Spock couldn't protect the away team on his own.

Not with his sense of morals and the fucking Prime Directive anyway.

"Bones, what do you think?" Jim asked, breaking through his thoughts. Leonard looked back just in time to see Jim lightly kicking the carcass in front of him, and he jerked at his friend's actions, a reprimand for respect on his lips before he caught himself and bit down hard to keep the admonishment from escaping him. "Looks kinda human."

"Humanoid?" Spock asked, stepping next to Jim. "Fascinating."

Fuck you, John Grimm wanted to say, but he was Leonard McCoy now, so John Grimm had to shut up. "Step away from the potentially infected dead body," he barked instead, glaring at Jim. The Captain balked at the look and moved away quickly. "Why don't you guys search the area? I'll follow you after I gather some samples from it."

Jim frowned, and surprisingly, Spock almost did the same. "I don't think that's a good idea," the Captain said.

"I concur, Dr. McCoy," Spock added. "Leaving you alone in an unsecure site—"

"Spock," Leonard cut him off, the irritation seeping back in, replacing the painful nostalgia that had burst through his veins, "take a good look around. Everything here is dead."

"You have a point," Spock allowed. "Nevertheless, it is…inadvisable to separate."

"This place is freaky," Sulu added, glancing at the fried, practically ancient computers and the dead body in front of it.

Leonard sighed at their reluctance to leave him and detached his phaser from his belt. "I've got this," he told him, waving it slightly before returning it to his side. "If I run into trouble—which I won't—I promise to use it. Okay? Let's not waste time here. It's illogical, right?" he added with a roll of his eyes.

"It is," Spock nodded, glancing at Jim as he spoke. "Captain?"

Jim was quiet for a moment, before he sighed and nodded at me. "Fine. Keep your communicator open, okay? And talk to us."

Leonard raised an eyebrow at his request, but made a show of doing as Jim said. "I'll be with you in a bit," he said, picking up his kit and heading over to the…to Sarge. Jim and the others loitered a bit before finally heading through the hole in the vault door, and Leonard put down his things, steadying the shake of his hands.

What was he doing here? Why did he have them leave him alone with his ghosts? It was, as Spock would tell him, illogical for him to do so.

God, he must be getting really messed up if he had Spock's voice in his head telling him that things were 'illogical.'

He didn't touch Sarge. Instead, he went behind one of the pillars and attached a hastily-built bomb. It had enough juice in it to level the entire facility, though to be honest, he was still drawing a blank on how he was going to explain the destruction of the compound.

Fixing the frequency to connect only to his communicator, Leonard pushed away from the device and stood, picking up his kit and taking off after the others, his ears already tuning to find Jim's familiar noises. Jim was, admittedly, Leonard McCoy's lifeline. Whenever he was experiencing an identity crisis, he would think of Jim, the unexpected companion he'd found on a random shuttle ride to a new life. When he felt lost and alone, he would go to Jim, who would always give him enough attention to push away the melancholic mood. When being immortal felt too much to handle, a few hours with Jim would make him feel less like a freak and more like a simple man just hanging out with his best friend.

James Tiberius Kirk had been a godsend, which was crazy because he had been born in hell.

Fucking Olduvai.

Leonard found them in the weapons lab, with Jim and Ensign Porter ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the two century old ordinance. John Grimm twitched, tempted to run his finger over the old, familiar weaponry. Leonard has to admit, he missed the therapeutically soothing motions of cleaning a gun.

Phasers didn't need cleaning, but they just couldn't compare to the feeling of a good, solid gun in hand.

"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked wryly, grinning when everyone, except Spock of course, jumped in place and spun around with phasers out. Leonard didn't bother ducking the bolt of light the ensign shot at him—it sailed over his shoulder harmlessly. "Right."

"Sorry, sir!" she squeaked, immediately dropping her phaser. Leonard waved it off, making a note to ensure that the next ensign on the away team would be more competent with their aim. This was exactly why Jim got into trouble all the time!

"That was quick, Bones," Jim said, looking down at his communicator. "You didn't talk to me?"

Leonard shrugged. "Like Sulu said, this place is freaky. I cut a piece of skin and took off immediately."

"Why, Bones! Were you…scared?" Jim teased, blinking innocently up at him. The image was ruined by the quick twist of his lips, the smirk betraying his amusement.

Anything Leonard could have said in reply to that was lost when Chekov patched through to Leonard's communicator. "Chekov to Doktor McCoy. Come in, Doktor."

Leonard felt his innards go cold even as he answered, "McCoy here."

"Doktor, as per your instruksion, I 'ave managed to set ze skanner to search for 'eat signatures in ze facility." Everyone glanced up at Leonard curiously even as the Doctor moved to close the doors, just in case, because Chekov was taking too long in providing him with the information he needed, damn it! "Akording to ze skanner, zer are only six 'eat signatures—"

Leonard stopped listening, and he knew he didn't have to look at the others to know that they'd become more alert as well. Chekov said there were six heat signatures in the facility.

There were only five of them in the room.