Stardate 1514.4

Dear Spock,

When I joined Starfleet, I knew there were risks and dangers.  I even read the stack of forms before I signed them.  I've come to terms with seeing death, and I've handled some things that I bet would turn even Jim's stomach.  I'm a doctor, it's my job to deal with some of the ugliest problems the universe has to offer.

However, they didn't tell me everything.  I swear, if they'd told me I'd have a killer salt-sucking creature impersonating me, or that I'd have to watch Nancy turn into that... thing before I killed her, I'd have thrown the whole stack in their faces.  It's bad enough that someone... something... else was masquerading with my face.  I suppose it could've found a worse face to walk around with.  No, it's that I had to as good as kill Nancy because of it.  Not that it was Nancy...

I know better than to drink right now.  It wouldn't help me figure this all out anyway, it'd just put off dealing with it.

Why am I writing to you, anyway?  It's not like I think you're actually a great person to talk to about feelings.  You're the last person on the ship who I'd ever actually say anything to about this.  I can just hear you now.  "That, Doctor, is entirely illogical."  That's all you care about, right?  Logic.  I've got you figured out just fine.  Take that, you pointy-eared computer.

Now I'm starting to respond to imaginary retorts in my letters... that isn't a good sign.  But what human could blame me?  With what I've had to take today...

The worst part is, I can't decide whether I feel more guilty about shooting "Nancy", or not shooting fast enough.  I almost let Jim die, just because I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  If you hadn't jumped in... God knows what would've happened.  Guess I've got to admit I'm grateful to you.  I'd never forgive myself if I let something happen to him just because I couldn't pull a damn trigger.  I've never seen you act like that before.  I guess it was the 'logical' thing to do, though, right?  Rush in and defend the Captain, when I failed.  Or nearly failed... I did pull the trigger in the end, after all.

And I thought I was having trouble sleeping before. I'm gonna have nightmares, and I know it.

Of course, today wouldn't have gone well even if it hadn't ended the way it did.  It was hard enough meeting an old flame without having James T. Kirk, Hopeless Romantic and Ladies' Man, along to grin indulgently and give me "advice" on how to treat a lady.  You'd think he'd have the sense to leave a hopeless case alone.  IF the lady in question hadn't been married - and she was - I'd still know better than to let Jim play matchmaker.  That's a recipe for trouble if I ever saw one.

By the way, I've still not quite forgiven him for saying I should be more like you.  I'm not saying he didn't have a point, but of all the tasteless things he could've said... Come to think of it, if we'd followed my advice, maybe we wouldn't have beamed aboard with the creature in the first place.  If we'd found Green, it would've all been over without putting the whole ship in danger.  Not that either of us would've known all that.

All in all, I'd like nothing more than to live the rest of my life without another day like that.

- Doctor Leonard McCoy

P.S. When I went to hide my last letter, I didn't find my first one to you where I put it.  Come to think of it, maybe I didn't hide it quite well enough.  Something about it doesn't seem right, though.  Call me paranoid, but I'm gonna make sure it's still where I put it.  I thought I saw Jim coming out of here not too long ago when I was headed to my room.  I bet he thinks I don't know about his little searches for my stash of Saurian brandy.