Title: Home

Author:

Pairing: Mirror!Spock/McCoy

Summary: The missing scene from the episode Mirror, Mirror. What really happened with Mirror Spock and McCoy in sickbay, when Jim and the others were in Transporting?

***

The question is first asked with dark, omniscient eyes. He knows it's illogical – and damn it, the bastard is rubbing off on him – to presume such things, but it's almost as if he can read Leonard's mind. A vice grip is laid upon his wrist, and a quick wrench in the opposite direction proves fruitless. Then, when the room is deathly quiet and goose pimples run freely up and down Leonard's arms, the question is asked again, verbally. "Why did the Captain let me live?"

He wants to open his mouth and shout – the Captain! He couldn't give two shits about you in this universe! You aren't our Spock; Scotty even told me to condone you! To leave you for dead, that's what they wanted to do! – But he doesn't though; the look he gives to the bearded Spock seems to convey it all. The hold tightens as Fake Spock rigidly stands, bending Leonard easily to his will. With a calm sort of insanity, he backs the doctor up against the walls of his sickbay. Or, at least, this universe's sickbay.

He feels, suddenly, like a child again. His mind falls back; back to the small Georgian school house that held thirty grimy kids and one cranky teacher who constantly seemed to make it a sport to call on Leonard whenever he didn't know the answer. Even now, he feels like he never has the answers; and pinned up against the wall by a fucked up shadow of the man he secretly adores, he knows that being all-knowing is something that he'll never be able to achieve.

Mechanically, Fake Spock raises a hand, and McCoy begins to sweat. He's seen Normal Spock do this hundreds of times – never thinking that he'd actually be on the receiving end of one. The slim pads of Fake Spock's fingers splay out across his face, and Leonard tenses, all the joints in his body locking at the same time. Coolly, Fake Spock whispers; "Our minds are merging, doctor – our minds are one."

It takes a moment for Leonard to realize that he's shaking, trembling, like the heart of a baby bird. His arm is pinned a little higher, his fist resting on his collar bone, and all he can do is watch as Fake Spock looks at him like nothing more than a lab experiment.

"I feel what you feel…I know what you know."

It's like he's suddenly shot; a spectrum of color blinds him, encompassing him, and devouring him, all at once. The breath leaves his body and he feels like he's being slowly crushed by the power that lapping at his form. He feels detached, like one giant out of body experience. And it's like he's going to float away into Nirvana, when one word shatters his tranquility.

Leonard!

It's a wafting tone, yet spoken with so much feeling – surprise, love, admiration, longing, lust, want – that it jolts Leonard back to the present. His world comes into focus, and there's Fake Spock, sitting cross-legged on a thatch of grass. Looking down, Leonard realizes that somehow, they've materialized into a meadow; all that surrounds them is trees and grass, as far as the eyes can see. It reminds him of home: the soft, underlying smell of honey, the warm sun, chatting birds, and gradually, he starts to relax into the warmth encasing him.

I've found you, at last!

"…found…me?" He murmurs. One moment, Fake Spock is there, then the next, his arms are wrapped around Leonard like a lifeline to humanity. And maybe…in this savage, backwards version of his own universe, he is Fake Spock's only tie to sanity. And maybe…for Leonard, it's nice to pretend that Fake Spock is actually Normal Spock from his own universe, and somehow, this is all just a pleasant daydream. But it's not.

"I need to get back." Leonard finally says. His eyes slip shut and he melts into the embrace. But he knows this can't, and won't, last. Someone will come looking for him, and find him pinned up against the sickbay wall, Fake Spock's fingers glued to his face. With his luck, it will be Jim, and he'll never be free of his persistent questioning.

You cannot go.

"Why not?" His own voice sounds feeble to his ears. "I'm not Leonard McCoy."

Yes you are.

"I'm not your Leonard, though. I'll never be your Leonard."

Logically speaking…no. But you are your own Leonard, correct?

"Yes."

Then be your own Leonard, here.

He sighs and opens his lidded eyes. In a whisper he asks, "Why?"

You reciprocate…he, he does not.

The phrase echoes in his mind, a giddy feeling setting his stomach a flame. Reciprocate. Almost too proud to ask the question, Leonard frowns, and then, mutedly says. "You…and me?"

And it's the first word that Leonard hasn't heard in his head since his arrival. It's the first, and the last word, Fake Spock speaks aloud: "Precisely."

"We…we can't though."

This rewards him with a remorseful ruffling of his hair, and a very human sigh.

I know.

Shattering glass fills Leonard's ears and he watches passively as the ground is littered in spider cracks, as if this whole time, the world was nothing but glass. As the panes fall, opening up a rift in the ground, Leonard feels a dropping sensation as the ground bottoms out beneath him –

– Then nothing.

***

When the world stops dancing in his vision, Leonard feels so tired, it's hard to move. An arm wraps around his abdomen and pulls him to his feet. It's difficult to move, he feels inebriated-like, and for a brief second, he thinks that this whole 'Mirror Universe' is just something that his mind dreamt up after hitting the bottle a little too hard.

The smashing headache, however, is proof that, yes, he might be hung-over, but this was completely real. A hand grabs his upper forearm, stilling him, and placidly tells him, "I am returning you to you're Captain."

"Th-thank you." He slurs, coming off the mind meld high. Shaking his head, lines and shapes begin to come together into objects. He's directed out of the sickbay by Fake Spock, who rushes him down to the turbolift. The doors close, and he's trapped with a cheeky looking female ensign and a Vulcan. Fan-tastic.

He's unsure of how much time has passed, but the doors of the turbolift open, and Fake Spock ushers him out by the arm with clipped steps, and the foreboding tone of, "Hurry, Doctor." Without so much as a peep, Leonard McCoy follows dutifully. When the Vulcan finally breaks stride, Leonard's vision has returned to it's usual 20/20, and they're before the transporter room. One more step and Leonard knows that the motion sensor will open up the door, and it will be time to bid ado. Forever.

A soft hand falls on Fake Spock's shoulder, and Leonard realizes that he's reached out to the Vulcan, without being aware of it. The man turns and surveys Leonard with his eyebrows raised, and it chokes the doctor up because it's such a familiar expression on a face where, at the same time, it does and doesn't belong.

"Doctor, time is of the essence." Fake Spock reminds him. "If you wish to return to your own universe-"

"Spock." Leonard addresses him by his full name. "I'm sorry."

There is a long, painful, silence. The grip on his forearm slackens ever so lightly, but it returns with full force when Fake Spock answers with a steely tone. "It is…illogical to apologize for something… something you cannot control, Doctor."

"Still," He feels obligated. Fake Spock feels…normal, human even, unlike the other barbarians that inhabit this universe. "I'm sorry that I'm not...him."

Leonard is spun ever so slightly. There is not a soul in sight to witness the tender gesture as Fake Spock swipes the doctor's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Fake Spock's cheeks are faintly tainted green – however it could be the lighting – and says ever so delicately, as if handling a baby, "You are you. And that…that is enough."

Leonard, from all his years of medical schooling, knows that he's just technically 'made out' with Fake Spock, but frankly, he's alright with that. He knows, too, that this is the closest Fake Spock will ever get to 'kissing' a starship doctor named Leonard McCoy. They're both stand-ins for something that might never be, but for right now, it's alright.

Spock – he's not fake, not anymore – is the first to break the gesture. "You need to be returned."

Solemnly, Leonard nods. "Yeah,"

The door opens, and Spock manhandles him inside. From there, the two act out a play of smoke and mirrors – they 'hate' each other. However, as Leonard steps onto the transporter pad, he catches a falter in Spock's gaze.

He's sad. Leonard's brain supplies. He doesn't want you to go.

It doesn't matter as they all – Uhura, Scotty, Jim – fritter away into beams of hay yellow. There's that funny warm feeling in Leonard's gut, the feeling of being put back together, and when Leonard opens his eyes, the first sight is Spock. Real, his universe, Spock.

"Welcome home." He greets emotionlessly.

Leonard puts on a smile, but duly notes in the back of his head one thing: this may be home, but there is nothing welcoming about it.