the stars are blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun when you read my mind
Originally written as part of an app for Leonard McCoy at rubycity_rp but I'm stealing spiralstarfall's idea kind of proud of it, so I'm going to post it here. It takes place during one of the final scenes of the movie; specifically, when Jim is being officially promoted to Captain.
Leonard still wasn’t entirely sure how the hell he had ended up here. Just like last time, it was a sea of cadet red and staff gray. Unlike last time, however, Jim wasn’t next to him - it was Chekov, the Russian teenager who, seventeen or not, sure as hell had a brain in that curly-haired skull. Next to him was Sulu, grinning in a way that Leonard was fairly certain would always remind him of pilots and “other idiots like Jim”: cock-sure, confident, with easy grace and (though he hated to admit it) usually a reason to smirk like that. Really, it was the differences that were easier to notice: just a few days ago, sitting next to Jim and wondering what the hell they had been called in here for (and a sinking feeling in his gut that had been proven right with the next words spoken in the crowded room), it had been… well, the phrase “human sardine can” came to mind. He had known Jim and some others; mostly cadets that he worked with at the Academy hospital, or his more recent (or regular) patients. Now, however, they all knew why they were there.
Most of the fleet had been destroyed. Vulcan had been destroyed. And one James Tiberius Kirk, his reckless idiot of a best friend who he had met on a shuttle while reeking of booze (not that Jim had looked a whole lot better), had saved them all, and was being given his prize: the flagship, the ship that had saved Earth. The Enterprise.
Watching as Pike was wheeled out, Leonard (and he was proud enough of Jim to call himself “Bones” in his own head today; usually he put up more of a fuss against… well, against himself, and against juvenile nicknames) glanced around the crowd again. There were faces from the last crowd that he would never see again - too many faces. But there were also faces that he knew better now; Chekov and Sulu, an Andorian who he had changed the dressings on while fuming at Spock for marooning Jim, a brunette who had broken her collarbone but had insisted on supporting a badly bleeding ensign into sickbay, and… well, and Captain - now Admiral - Christopher Pike himself, sitting in a wheelchair but alive and expected to walk again, with time and physical therapy (and god, but that had been the most nerve-wracking surgery of his life, trying to detach that damn slug from the brainstem while the ship shuddered and cracked around them).
They all knew that Jim was being promoted; hell, most of the crew had already signed on. Bones wasn’t sure if it was Jim who didn’t believe it or if he was projecting; he still couldn’t quite figure out how this had all happened, snapping at anyone (Spock, mostly, when they ran into each other at briefings and funerals) who tried to explain about alternate realities and time travel. He was chalking it up to really fucking terrible luck (for all the deaths Nero had caused), really damn good luck (for being alive), and his best friend, and that was all there was to it. No one had been more surprised than he had been when he had signed up to be the Enterprise’s CMO, but hell, he’d already done it once, and if Jim was there…
Shaking himself slightly as the same admiral who had called Jim to the stand at their last little powwow began to speak, Bones watched the proceedings with his usual scowl. It was Jim who had saved them, and it was he who would be saving him for the next five years - that gave him the right, dammit, and besides, someone had to keep the idiot grounded (especially if he tried another space jump again, good god, that was going to give him nightmares for a week).
It wasn’t until the auditorium was clapping and cheering and Jim was grinning up at them that Bones realized that he was repeating what had been said over and over again in his mind.
“I relieve you, sir.” “I am relieved.”
He couldn’t have said it better himself.
Leonard still wasn’t entirely sure how the hell he had ended up here. Just like last time, it was a sea of cadet red and staff gray. Unlike last time, however, Jim wasn’t next to him - it was Chekov, the Russian teenager who, seventeen or not, sure as hell had a brain in that curly-haired skull. Next to him was Sulu, grinning in a way that Leonard was fairly certain would always remind him of pilots and “other idiots like Jim”: cock-sure, confident, with easy grace and (though he hated to admit it) usually a reason to smirk like that. Really, it was the differences that were easier to notice: just a few days ago, sitting next to Jim and wondering what the hell they had been called in here for (and a sinking feeling in his gut that had been proven right with the next words spoken in the crowded room), it had been… well, the phrase “human sardine can” came to mind. He had known Jim and some others; mostly cadets that he worked with at the Academy hospital, or his more recent (or regular) patients. Now, however, they all knew why they were there.
Most of the fleet had been destroyed. Vulcan had been destroyed. And one James Tiberius Kirk, his reckless idiot of a best friend who he had met on a shuttle while reeking of booze (not that Jim had looked a whole lot better), had saved them all, and was being given his prize: the flagship, the ship that had saved Earth. The Enterprise.
Watching as Pike was wheeled out, Leonard (and he was proud enough of Jim to call himself “Bones” in his own head today; usually he put up more of a fuss against… well, against himself, and against juvenile nicknames) glanced around the crowd again. There were faces from the last crowd that he would never see again - too many faces. But there were also faces that he knew better now; Chekov and Sulu, an Andorian who he had changed the dressings on while fuming at Spock for marooning Jim, a brunette who had broken her collarbone but had insisted on supporting a badly bleeding ensign into sickbay, and… well, and Captain - now Admiral - Christopher Pike himself, sitting in a wheelchair but alive and expected to walk again, with time and physical therapy (and god, but that had been the most nerve-wracking surgery of his life, trying to detach that damn slug from the brainstem while the ship shuddered and cracked around them).
They all knew that Jim was being promoted; hell, most of the crew had already signed on. Bones wasn’t sure if it was Jim who didn’t believe it or if he was projecting; he still couldn’t quite figure out how this had all happened, snapping at anyone (Spock, mostly, when they ran into each other at briefings and funerals) who tried to explain about alternate realities and time travel. He was chalking it up to really fucking terrible luck (for all the deaths Nero had caused), really damn good luck (for being alive), and his best friend, and that was all there was to it. No one had been more surprised than he had been when he had signed up to be the Enterprise’s CMO, but hell, he’d already done it once, and if Jim was there…
Shaking himself slightly as the same admiral who had called Jim to the stand at their last little powwow began to speak, Bones watched the proceedings with his usual scowl. It was Jim who had saved them, and it was he who would be saving him for the next five years - that gave him the right, dammit, and besides, someone had to keep the idiot grounded (especially if he tried another space jump again, good god, that was going to give him nightmares for a week).
It wasn’t until the auditorium was clapping and cheering and Jim was grinning up at them that Bones realized that he was repeating what had been said over and over again in his mind.
“I relieve you, sir.” “I am relieved.”
He couldn’t have said it better himself.