Chapter Text
Rain started that night. McCoy lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He could hear it against the window, over the sound of Scotty’s breathing beside him. Rain to wash the ground clean of the blood he had spilled on it. He closed his eyes for a long moment and sighed. Who was he?
They were still in the house. Scotty had told him Sulu had moved back to his cabin and Keenser planned to in the morning. Scotty had said a lot of things, but McCoy had been lost in himself. Scotty had gone to dinner and eventually came back to his side, bringing McCoy a plate. But McCoy had hardly glanced at it. His eyes had been on the creek, slowly running between its banks, around rocks, little ripples rolling. He’d washed his hands in the creek, scrubbing hard to get the blood gone.
McCoy sighed again as Scotty shifted next to him. A creak in the hall had his head whipping towards the door. He and Scotty had taken the free bedroom while Sulu and Keenser had made themselves comfortable in the attic.
Quietly, his nerves singing loudly, he slipped from the bed and over to the door. It had been years since he had lived in the house, maybe it made more noises now than he remembered. A second, smaller noise. Was that a faint knock? McCoy frowned and as soundlessly as possible began to open the door. Down the hall a flash of white disappeared through a door.
Silently McCoy closed his door. That was Chekov’s room. Had the young lad been up? But the knock?
McCoy returned to his bed and laid down again. Slowly a hint of smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He had an idea of what he had just seen.
Sunshine did not lighten the room in the morning. Heavy rain clouds still covered the sky.
“Do ye want to move back out today?” Scotty asked as he got dressed. “It’s been a bit nice to be in with everyone, but it’ll be nicer to have some privacy again.”
Fingers moving of their own accord, McCoy finished buttoning his shirt and began to tuck it in. Unfocused, he looked at the grayness outside. He sat back on the bed to pull on his boots.
“Len?” Scotty sat down close beside him, shoulders bumping together. “Will ye speak to me?”
McCoy sighed and looked at the floor.
“I shot him. I didn’t even think about it.”
“We all would have done the same, should’ve done the same,” Scotty said gently, but McCoy looked quickly at him.
“I’m supposed to save people, not take lives! I took an oath.” His shoulders drooped and his hands came up to cover his face. “I didn’t even think about it,” he repeated.
“But ye helped save all of ours—” Scotty began, but McCoy stood abruptly. He grabbed a jacket and his hat and left the room quickly.
He hurried through the house, not wanting to see anyone, but he wasn’t quick enough. Christine came from the kitchen.
“Nuh uh! Not without something to eat! I know you Leonard McCoy.” She pushed a small wrapped bundle into his hands. “Go sort yourself out, whatever you need to do,” she said softly. “But come back to us soon.”
Something in his chest tightened. He gave a brief nod and exited the house.
He glanced at the barn, but continued on his way towards the creek. He wanted to feel the hard ground under his own feet. Part of him said to not go too far, to be careful, but the other part knew their worries and fears were over. No one would bother them again. So he walked alongside the creek, upstream, rain pounding against his hat.
In very little time McCoy was soaked to the bone. What would be a serious concern in the winter was just discomfort in the late summer warmth. But he didn’t notice. He just walked as his mind wandered.
It was nearly evening when McCoy heard hooves. He tensed. He had walked beside the creek all day, its noise as the rain made it run larger and louder, a rumble in his ears, lost in wondering who he was and what he had done. Finally he had needed to sit and had found a large rock.
With a sudden blink of his eyes, McCoy realized how far he was from the ranch, and knew he’d never get back before dark. The shadows were already long.
“Stupid,” he muttered.
Standing, he looked to see who was coming, but he was around a curve of the creek. Dark thoughts crossed his mind. What if they hadn’t caught all of Khan’s new gang? What if someone had been further out when the others were caught?
Under his breath McCoy cursed again. He’d left the ranch without any kind of protection. Looking towards the sky he cursed once more and accepted his fate. If he was about to be caught or killed it was no more than he deserved for what he had done the day before.
“Len!” a relieved voice yelled at him. In the moment it took McCoy to look down from the sky, Scotty was off his horse and wrapping his arms around him.
“Monty?”
“I know ye need yer time,” Scotty was saying. “But it worried me when it was getting on and ye weren’t back.” He pulled back to look at McCoy. “I cannae believe ye went so far! Are ye alright?”
“I—” Was he? He had done something so fundamentally against his character the day before, but was it really? Scotty had begun to tell him that morning he had helped save all of them. Wasn't one life a good trade for many? And he hadn’t killed Khan, just wounded him and had worked hard to save him. McCoy sighed.
“Len?” Scotty looked at him worriedly.
“I’m not. Yet.” McCoy nodded slowly. “But I will be.” He smiled at Scotty.
“Let’s get ye home and dry,” Scotty said, taking his hand and leading him to where he had left the horses. He had saddled Honey and brought her with him.
“Thank you,” McCoy said quietly. Scotty just smiled at him in reply.