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“Jim?” the doctor called out into the dark room. There was no reply.
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the shape of a lump under the covers. He couldn’t tell if the man underneath was awake or asleep. But even if he could, he surmised it wouldn’t make a difference.
Jim hadn’t spoken a word to anyone in three days.
From the smell of the room, he was quite sure the captain hadn’t showered in that time either.
It broke McCoy’s heart to see his best friend in this state, and he couldn’t help but start to curse the pointy-eared bastard that did this to him. But the doctor held himself back midway through that thought.
There was no use cursing the dead.
“Jim?” he tried again after that brief period of silence. Still no response. So McCoy did what he was best at — meddling where he was clearly unwanted, but also desperately needed.
“Computer, turn on the lights,” he commanded sharply and suddenly the room was drenched in colour again.
The lump under the bed groaned and shifted a little.
Next, he strode to the bed and yanked off the blanket.
Below it, was Jim. Not Captain Kirk. No, this man was just that — a man. His skin was pale, eyes red-rimmed from crying, lips cracked, hair a mess. He had every sign of a man grieving someone he loved. But Bones knew it was more than that.
Because Jim didn’t just love Spock.
Whatever they had went far deeper than love. It was something the doctor never truly understood, but was immensely glad both his friends had found.
But stupid Spock had to go and rip this tender bond in two, separating both pieces by a veil Jim couldn’t pass through. At least not yet.
“He’s gone, Bones,” Jim whispered. “I… I can’t…”
The captain’s voice cracked and he broke into quiet sobs. No tears fell from his eyes. He had already cried until his body had no water left to spare.
“I know,” soothed the doctor quietly, sitting on the edge of the bunk and stroking Jim’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
Jim shook his head, baring his teeth in frustration. “He’s gone, and now it feels like I’ve lost a part of myself — a part of my heart! A part of my soul!”
Bones sat still, letting him get it off his chest.
“I don’t even know who I am anymore without him, Bones.”
They lapsed into a moment of silence, both thinking of the missing member of their trio.
“He’s gone, and I never even got to tell him he was mine,” Jim wept into his pillow. “He was mine, to love, to protect, to hold, to grow old with! God, Bones, don’t you see? I was supposed to go first!”
The doctor sighed, knowing where the conversation was heading.
“Vulcans live twice as long as humans. Spock should have survived me by a hundred years! I never thought I would be the one left here… alone…”
“I know, Jim. But he loved you too. You know that, don’t you? That’s why he did it. That’s why he sacrificed himself. Because he wanted you to live a full life.”
“I hate that!” Jim shouted suddenly, curling up tighter in bed. “I hate it when people say that! It never makes it better, Bones! Can’t you see how much worse that is? Because now I’m the selfish one if I can’t move on without him.”
“No! No one’s saying you’re selfish! It’s just… well, we all miss you Jim.” The words hung heavy in the air. “The crew lost their First Officer. Don’t make us lose our Captain too.”
Jim pulled his knees to his chest.
“But how can I go back to that bridge? How can I sit in that chair and look at his chair?”
Bones had no answer to this question.
“I used to be able to feel it,” Jim began. “He used to say he didn’t have feelings, but when I stepped onto the bridge and our eyes met, I knew. Deep down I knew he felt it too. Somewhere along the way, maybe between our third and fourth mind melds, our souls got so intertwined that… that I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.”
Again, the doctor remained quiet. There was no way he could claim to understand the feeling that Jim was describing, but he was glad to finally hear the captain let out these pent up emotions.
“Don’t you understand? Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. Well, were the same.” Jim’s hollow laugh reverberated around them. “Now there’s nothing left. Because he died and he took my soul with him.”
And with those final words, the captain fell back into silence, once again lost in his thoughts. McCoy brought him food and water. He tried to coax him to step into the sonic shower. Or even to let in some other visitors.
But grief is a difficult process. And how could you possibly heal a person whose soul has died?