Star Trek Fic: Leonard and Jim - Too Close, Jimmy Boy
Pain. It’s all he knows. He can’t remember who or where he is but he knows that there is lots of pain.
His nerves scream and he's almost sure he does as well 'cause he's on fire, white hot. It’s paralyzing, it’s mind-numbing, it’s a lot to deal with even within the deep, dark expanse he is trapped in.
He swims through the thick, greedy haze of unconsciousness, seeking an exit, a reprieve.
Time passes, however much he isn’t sure, and his nerves light up in new pain. This time, he just can't scream. A deep crimson appears in front of him and he’s unsure about how he should feel but with the light comes the solemn whine of red alert.
And it all rushes back: Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, Designation NCC-1701. Jocelyn, Joanna, Dad. It’s all there.
And now that he can see, he’s wishing for the darkness again. Because not ten feet from his broken foot is his captain, his best friend, his Jim, pinned to the floor by a rather long piece of metal that narrowly missed impaling him. Leonard leans forward, hand outstretched, as he attempts to control his breathing that’s gotten erratic at the sight.
“Jim?” His voice is soft, drowned out by the tenor siren wailing above. He notices the hysteria around him, the utter chaos, and it’s all he can do to not go into shock: count your breaths, check pulse, stay calm. Nurses are scrambling around the bridge, supporting victims of countless burns and lacerations. The few doctors on board are working on the helmsmen and what looks like Uhura.
“Jim.” This time, Leonard’s voice catches Chapel’s attention and she starts his way but he waves her off, looking at the body on her knees: Chekov, a deep slash ranging from his right eyebrow to what might be the last true rib, is unconscious.
“Bones.” Leonard snaps his attention back to his captain. He’s regained consciousness and on that border of falling in and out of the dark abyss that had swallowed him. The doctor crawls to Jim’s side, pushing aside the debris that has him pinned and pulls him to rest on his lap, his head close to his heart.
He tries to soothe him and keep him awake and talking until the attacks stop and he can get down to medical bay. “Too close, Jimmy boy. You’ve cut it too close again.” The young captain sighs a laugh and then relaxes, not fully asleep but murmuring songs Bones taught him when they were alone.
Tears burn Leonard’s eyes as he looks around him, at the destruction, at the death, at the result of a feud-gone-too-long. It sickens him. Scares him. He doesn’t fear for himself, the grumpy, almost-alcoholic divorcee with a child he hardly sees, but for his best friend, the young captain who is reckless and arrogant and who holds so much potential.
He leans back, staring at Chapel as she tries to get her tricorder to work. Everything’s going so wrong. The cool metal feels nice. Leonard can feel himself slipping, retreating to the darkness once more. It was calmer there. Nothing to worry about. Nothing…
“Too close…”
---
Resolution for those who want one.
His nerves scream and he's almost sure he does as well 'cause he's on fire, white hot. It’s paralyzing, it’s mind-numbing, it’s a lot to deal with even within the deep, dark expanse he is trapped in.
He swims through the thick, greedy haze of unconsciousness, seeking an exit, a reprieve.
Time passes, however much he isn’t sure, and his nerves light up in new pain. This time, he just can't scream. A deep crimson appears in front of him and he’s unsure about how he should feel but with the light comes the solemn whine of red alert.
And it all rushes back: Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, Designation NCC-1701. Jocelyn, Joanna, Dad. It’s all there.
And now that he can see, he’s wishing for the darkness again. Because not ten feet from his broken foot is his captain, his best friend, his Jim, pinned to the floor by a rather long piece of metal that narrowly missed impaling him. Leonard leans forward, hand outstretched, as he attempts to control his breathing that’s gotten erratic at the sight.
“Jim?” His voice is soft, drowned out by the tenor siren wailing above. He notices the hysteria around him, the utter chaos, and it’s all he can do to not go into shock: count your breaths, check pulse, stay calm. Nurses are scrambling around the bridge, supporting victims of countless burns and lacerations. The few doctors on board are working on the helmsmen and what looks like Uhura.
“Jim.” This time, Leonard’s voice catches Chapel’s attention and she starts his way but he waves her off, looking at the body on her knees: Chekov, a deep slash ranging from his right eyebrow to what might be the last true rib, is unconscious.
“Bones.” Leonard snaps his attention back to his captain. He’s regained consciousness and on that border of falling in and out of the dark abyss that had swallowed him. The doctor crawls to Jim’s side, pushing aside the debris that has him pinned and pulls him to rest on his lap, his head close to his heart.
He tries to soothe him and keep him awake and talking until the attacks stop and he can get down to medical bay. “Too close, Jimmy boy. You’ve cut it too close again.” The young captain sighs a laugh and then relaxes, not fully asleep but murmuring songs Bones taught him when they were alone.
Tears burn Leonard’s eyes as he looks around him, at the destruction, at the death, at the result of a feud-gone-too-long. It sickens him. Scares him. He doesn’t fear for himself, the grumpy, almost-alcoholic divorcee with a child he hardly sees, but for his best friend, the young captain who is reckless and arrogant and who holds so much potential.
He leans back, staring at Chapel as she tries to get her tricorder to work. Everything’s going so wrong. The cool metal feels nice. Leonard can feel himself slipping, retreating to the darkness once more. It was calmer there. Nothing to worry about. Nothing…
“Too close…”
---
Resolution for those who want one.