Chapter Text
Each step is silent.
With the loss of one of his senses, it feels like everything else is heightened -- the standard uniform has never felt so scratchy, the indoor airflow so breezy. His eyes have never darted around so rapidly before, soaking in the sight of everything around him. He can't understand the world anymore in the way he's used to -- and in his search for understanding, was left to only experience using his remaining senses.
He had half-expected to be stopped by Chapel or M'Benga on the way out of Sickbay, for the two of them to pressure him to stay in bed longer, but the two were curiously not there -- nor any other medical personnel. It's such a peculiar situation that there's a slight terror that takes ahold of him -- what had happened while he was unconscious?
He's slightly mollified by remembering Spock had visited him. There's no way Spock would leisurely visit him for a check-in on his health if the ship was in danger, but he's not sure where they could be.
It's when he gets to the bridge that he realizes what's going on.
"Ah. An impromptu hearing checkup for the whole crew," he mutters out loud, seeing the way the nurses and technicians and assistants shuffle about.
He forgot, for a second, his current impediment when he then calls out to Chapel, thinking of the three men who were closest to the source of the noise -- Spock, Jim, and Scotty.
"Nurse Chapel! Have we seen to those who were closest to the source yet?"
When she turns around to respond -- he was unable to catch the beginning of her sentence, forgetting to look at her lips.
The incredible feeling of losing a fundamental skill, to be able to communicate the way he's used to, strikes him to his very core. He feels the urge to bounce, to let loose the gnawing energy inside of him -- and he can see Chapel's brain processing as well. She's noticed something's wrong.
But before she's able to make her way over to him, Leonard's startled by the presence of a hand on his shoulder -- not having heard whoever it is who's approached him from behind now.
It takes everything in him to not react like the startled creature he feels like he is now; but he manages his stoicism as best as he could to a degree even Spock could be proud of.
Meeting Jim's conflicted expression with anything other than guilt (for what, he doesn't know), however, was a lot harder than he could've anticipated.
"So what happened with the priestess?" Leonard asks out loud, knowing that both he and Jim can tell that it was a diversion from another pressing issue -- his hearing loss. Spock must've told Jim as soon as he found out -- they are t'hylla after all, and they confide everything to each other.
They're in the captain's quarters. Jim's pulled out a comm pad to type his response, although Leonard can see the tight expression on the captain's face at having to type out his response.
[She's currently contained in a soundproof booth. She wants to speak with you and refuses to talk with anyone else and is practically unreasonable. Bones, what the hell did you even agree to?]
Leonard sighs, although he can feel a headache start to build up at the thought of it.
Honestly, he doesn't know. If he knew that her discontinuing the O'chok would lead to this disaster of a situation, he never would've agreed.
"I didn't think this would happen," he mumbled, unable to meet Jim's direct probing gaze, although he can faintly see the man's facial expression soften a bit. "She wanted to be a healthy control to compare the sick patients to. Because of that, she stopped taking her O'chok."
Thinking of the pained child he had first met when they first landed on this planet, the screeching and grating noise of indescribable pain -- he hadn't expected the priestess to exhibit a similar presentation, since she was supposedly free of illness.
[Taking the O'chok makes you like that? Bones, you ate the plant too!.]
There's an unspoken without even telling me, that's implied.
Jim's consternation and alarm is palpable, even as Leonard mulls over the situation in his mind. He's only taken a single dose of the O'chok so far -- but with that single dose, he could feel the echoes of addiction overwhelm him, could see the poltergeist of what could be a dangerous reliance leading him astray.
"I think she's addicted to the plant," Leonard murmurs, trying to figure something out. "I think she's going through withdrawal."
Jim furrows his brow.
[It's addictive? Bones, you know--]
Leonard snatches the comm device away from Jim before Jim can finish that sentence. It's incredibly rude of him, and something that he'd never do were he in his normal state of mind -- but he's disoriented, fearing for his hearing state, and paralyzed by the fear of what the O'chok really is. He can't see those words typed out on screen, can't handle Jim judging him and him having to confront it with words typed out in front of him, in solid form.
"I know! I know," Leonard snaps, although he winces a tiny bit when he sees Jim flinch a little from the sound of his voice. He doesn't know how loud he said that. After all, he doesn't have his hearing anymore. "I'm not taking that danged plant again. I don't even need to hear it."
Indeed, there's no way he would take it again. It's dangerous. Habit-forming -- and someone going through withdrawal, like the priestess, must be an absolute menace to deal with. It doesn't discount the fact that she's suffering -- but she will be infinitely more disagreeable, less kind, and more self-serving when she's suffering. Someone in immeasurable pain does not have the room for empathy that someone who is comfortable does.
The situation's gotten worse.
He still doesn't have a cure for the illness, and now with the priestess infinitely more disagreeable, it'll be even harder for them to get the approval of the local government.
"Sorry," Leonard apologies, his manners coming back now that he's thinking a little rationally, even if it's a terrible situation. "I shouldn't have done that."
Jim types out a simple reply.
[It's alright.]
And then flashes Leonard a small smile.
It's...so strange, how that smile makes him feel. It's Jim, who always believes that everything is okay. There's no doomsday scenario that cannot be won, everything works out in the end. But the challenge has gotten harder, he's lost a core part of himself -- his ability to hear-- and with the constraint of an uncooperative government and the guilt of not being able to save a whole planet's population, it sure feels like one that can't be won.
[We'll be okay.]
Jim types again, although there's a brief pause before he types out the second part of his message.
[I don't know what to do about the priestess.]
Neither do I, Leonard thinks. Neither do I.
Apparently the priestess screams whenever anyone goes near her -- but now that Leonard's lost his hearing, he doesn't have to avoid the part of the ship she's locked in. After all, he can't hear her.
[We can send someone in with you.]
Jim typed. The captain's quarters seemed silent after that, even with Leonard's hearing loss.
[Spock is strong enough to suppress the priestess, even if she attacks you.]
It was an idea he shot down immediately.
"You and I both know he shouldn't go in there, and neither should you," Leonard had said, not unkindly. But resigned, for sure. "No one should. My hearing's gone now, so...I think it should be safe, regardless of how much I dislike that idea. I think...I need to change the settings on the translator, since I can't hear what it says. Does it even have an option to translate direct text in Standard?"
He has no idea what a written language for the Ko'chokhkol would even entail -- music theory, perhaps? A combination of chords? But music notation is far from standardized, and he fears that wouldn't work as well.
He supposes he will just need to speak to the priestess, and hope to whatever deity isn't cruel out there that he'll be able to communicate.
But there's a shudder going through him.
Alone with the priestess. What a predicament.
Even if he doesn't hear it, he feels the volume through the shaking of the entrance. The transplanted Ochok -- the one that Spock and Sulu had been researching, the one that hadn't been adapted to any single person yet -- is in his hands. There's conflict within him -- per the priestess's own request, before she had lost her bearings, she had asked him to withhold her dose of Ochok from her. That she might beg for it, that she might be incoherent.
If he gives her it, he's actively feeding her addiction. But she's so uncooperative right now, and there's a whole planet of people to save and he needs as much cooperation as possible.
He's to enter quickly, lest she escape -- they've managed to make a secure double lock situation, in case he doesn't do it fast enough -- but even before she was captured, she hadn't seemed like she wanted to escape. She had simply been in too much pain to care about not hurting others.
When he steps in, the universal translator whirrs to life -- immediately translating the onslaught of noise to....agony and curses.
[YOU!] The priestess hisses, the light within her less sparkling than how he remembered her. It looks almost speckled with grains that block out the source; an observation that he wouldn't be able to make if he had been distracted by the noise. [YOU MADE ME THIS WAY!]
Leonard takes in a deep breath, steadies himself. The translator keeps translating the priestess's words, as she doesn't stop screaming, but he doesn't want to give up communicating just yet -- he tries to maintain eye contact with the priestess, even if it's hard to pinpoint where exactly to look.
"I'm here to help you," as gently as he can manage it -- even if his voice is tense. "You asked for me to not give you your dose of Ochok -- is this what you thought would happen?"
There's a slight hesitation in him before he asks the next question, a tussle between conflicting morals waging war inside him.
"It must be hard for you right now. Do you want the Ochok?"
Somehow, the light inside her shifts to an almost piercing strength -- like a strobe light powered by the sun, Leonard closes his eyes, seeing bright orange behind his eyelids instead of the black of darkness.
The light is so intense that he can't even make out the words the translator is printing out.
"Your Clarity," Leonard tries to bite out, holding up one hand to shield his eyes from being burnt. "I can't help your people like this."
The light only grows brighter and brighter, and it's with a frustrated scowl that Leonard has to depart, closing the door behind him and blinking his eyes to adjust to the light. It'll take a little bit for his eyes to adjust to be able to read the text on the screen from what the priestess screamed, even if it's likely to only be screams of pain.
But it's much different than what he anticipated.
[YOU! HEALER! YOU MADE ME THIS WAY! I DIDN'T WANT TO GET SICK! I DIDN'T WANT TO INFECT MYSELF! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU! CURE ME! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!]
[GET THAT OCHOK AWAY FROM ME! GET IT AWAY GET IT AWAY GET IT AWAY FROM MY BODY! I DON'T WANT IT, I NEVER DID!]
[I DON'T! STOP GIVING ME IT! ALL YOU HEALERS ARE THE SAME! I DON'T WANT TO BE CHANGED FOR THE BETTER, I DON'T WANT TO TAKE IT! SO WHAT IF I DIDN'T SAVE THEM? SO WHAT IF THEY DIED? THEY WERE STUPID FOR DYING!]
[I DON'T CARE! THEY FORCED ME TO TAKE IT, IT WAS THEM WHO SAID I WASN'T ENOUGH! THEY SAID I WAS FLAWED, AND TOO SELFISH! I NEVER WANT TO TAKE THAT AGAIN! I DON'T WANT TO BE QUIETED ANY LONGER! GET OUT OF HERE, TAKE AWAY MY PAIN! CURE ME AND GET THAT PLANT AWAY FROM ME! NOW! I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE!]