(no subject)
Title:When we were young (6/7)
Author: K_E_Wilson
Rating: R (overall- see warnings)
Word Count: ~4000 (look, a bit longer!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a few humble dreams and an appetite for angst.
Warnings: (more) Boys being uncomfortable, outbursts, mental instability, and general WTF-ery
Summary: He doesn't feel normal, and that's pretty okay-- maybe.
A/N: Not a lot of warnings for this chapter, but the long awaited (and much angst-ed) meeting with Bones is upon our dear Jim! What will he do? Not even I know. Special thanks to my BFF asakochan for putting up with my whoreish need for feedback and my endless angst-ing over weather or not this even made sense. Thank you, dear, I am forever indebted to you. /sob I'm still concerned about how this chapter came out, but I decided that if I angsted over it anymore, I'd have to just shoot it and start over, so here you have it. It's been cut in half, so there will be a second installment next week (otherwise there would be no suspense!)
Previous Chapters:
CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2, CHAPTER 3, CHAPTER 4, CHAPTER 5
It's the most awkward feeling he's ever had, walking into Medical building G the next day. Jamie's on edge, completely silent yet prowling and simply radiating tension to the rest of them. Jimmy's trying to sing, but he's tucked so far behind Sam's attempt at comfort via constant stream of mental imagery of the times he hadn't fucked up around McCoy in a bar that the little boy's lullaby is lost in the chaotic drivel.
He drags his feet there- the uncertainty of what the hell is waiting for him at the other end making him second guess weather or not it would be worth the demerits to simply not show up- and still manages to get inside to check in at exactly 1600. He's told to wait in the overly-white sterile room where he can only hear the chaotic thrum of his own mind and the occasional tak tak tak of boots going down the hall. Every time he hears the latter, he tenses, eyes flying to the door and mind going temporarily still as he waits for the goddamn door to just open and let him face the demons, because not knowing what the hell is going on is killing him.
He ends up nearly climbing the wall, fifteen minutes later when suddenly the door does fly open. Bones lifts one careful eyebrow pointedly at him, and Jim slowly forces his tense shoulders to relax, simultaneously trying to beat Jamie's urge to fly out of the room into submission. Sam's on edge now, too, and that feels weird- like someone's just slipped ice tea into a glass he was expecting the punch of flat rum from- it leaves him reeling slightly to have two of them bidding for the escape so suddenly until his eyes un-cross and he's staring directly into Bones' eyes.
The other man's weary, and pissed. He's leaning back against the wall, just to the left of the door, and he's clearly got a hypo in one hand. His mouth is in that too-thin line that's just screaming I-haven't-got-time-to-fuck-around-with-you but his body's so loose and comfortable that it seems like a mask left over from the twentieth century Halloween celebrations.
It's completely natural, Jim realizes distantly, for Bones to feel like the cat with the cornered mouse here. He's in his environment, and even if he is just a Cadet, he's a well-known MD before that, and anything he orders to be done here will be done, based simply on that fact alone. He could have Jim strapped to a table in the psych ward faster than even Jamie could have them out of there, and the Hypo in his hand is just proof of that.
Slowly, Jim settles himself more firmly onto the biobed he's been occupying for the past half hour, relaxing his hands and splaying the digits out on the clean surface, letting his shoulders fall completely limp and lowering his head slightly. He can feel Jamie screaming in the back of his mind, completely pissed at this train of action; the surrender of power, and he can feel Jimmy slowly beginning to bubble over into that insecure muttering crap that always fucking happens at the most inappropriate moments. With a shaky breath, he focuses on the now, brings his eyes to meet the wall just over Bones' right shoulder and clears his throat.
"I'm here." It's remarkable how calm his voice sounds, even as his heart spikes again and his palms get clammy. There's no reason for him to be freaking out as much as he is, but the four-way tug-of-war on his concentration is not what he needs right now; is probably the cause for his heart feeling like he's going on mile four in an obstacle course.
Bones shifts away from the wall suddenly, and he's across the room faster than Jim thought he could possibly have moved. His hands are pressing the younger cadet's shoulders, forcing him to bend forward, and suddenly Jim's stiff again and Jamie's screaming for him to fight back and there's the memory again...
Tarsus flashes through his mind, phaser fire suddenly shifting into huge, forcing hands and now Jimmy's freaking out, too. There's some little presence trying to regain control, but Jim's eyes are blown wide and he's too trapped to really pay attention, just knows he's gotta get the hell away. There's a voice above him, in front of him, it's a growl and it sounds about as scared as he feels but he knows that voice, god damn it, and he's got the feeling that he really should be paying attention to what the hell it's saying to him, but he just CAN'T because there'sKodos again, and- fuck didn't he watch him die just ten minutes-hours-days-years ago?- and there's big hands trying to restrain him and he could have sworn he told Frank not to fuck with him ever again....
The slap is sudden, stinging right across his cheek.
Jim realizes he's breathing too fast suddenly, and he's soaked in a thin sheet of ice-cold sweat. He's got his back pressed so hard against the corner of the walls that his shoulders are screaming at him and he's staring at Bones, who's on his knees in front of him, wincing and rubbing the back of his hand while watching him wearily. He looks around quickly, trying to understand how he got here- whereKodos and Frank disappeared to, why the room is such a ruin of the orderly area he'd been waiting--
It clicks just as suddenly as the slap hit him and he's gone pale and a bit light headed. Bones is slower this time, hand moving almost in a slow motion etch to grip his shoulder and shake him.
"Goddamnit, Jim, what the hell?" The voice sounds like Bones, and the warm, wide hand on his shoulder is warm like Bones, but the inflection is from someone who's scared to the point of desperation.
"Sorry, sorry..." Jim's own voice is faint, breathless, and he takes a big gulp of air before he continues, "I just didn't know--"
"Don't you dare lie to me, James Tiberius Kirk." Bones cuts him off, and he's not as scared-sounding anymore, but now Jim's scared, because Bones can't know anything's up, because that would just fuck up a pretty good history of being just-fine-thank-you. "You were having a panic attack, and then you started screaming. That is not about me."
Jim gulps slightly, hides it by taking another big gulp of air. He notices he's curled against the wall, hugging his knees, and buys a second for himself by leaning away from the corner, shoulders flooding with the heat that signals he'll have bruises in the morning. Bones watches him do it, watches him drop his hands from his legs and flatten them against the floor before he clears his throat and quirks his goddamn eyebrow in that way.
"Thought you were gonna hit me." And the strange part is that it feels like it's a lie in the same instant that it feels like the whole goddamn truth. Jimmy's in his mind sobbing that Leo wouldn't hurt us... while Jamie's still on edge. Sam's nowhere to be heard, and Jim feels like this is both a victory and a loss. So he elaborates, because he's only lied to Bones a few times in the time he's known the bitter man, and he doesn't want to fuck that up now with more half-truths. "Thought something bad was gonna happen."
Bones looks weary as he sits back on his heels, eyes still on Jim as he takes a moment to consider. Jim takes the time to look Bones over; his hair's disheveled, like he's done some dodging- Jim suspects he was swinging- and his hand's starting to turn red from where he slapped Jim's cheek, and his face looks a bit pasty like he's beginning to get a very sick feeling in his stomach. He imagines his face isn't looking too hot right now, either, so he throws that last aside.
"What's going on here?" the question's a bit quiet but it's sudden, too. Jim stares at Bones for a moment, and suddenly there's Sam and he wants control. Jimmy's reaching out, trying to force himself out, too, and Jamie's right there beside.
He manages a strangled little gasp before he's staring right at Bones, trying to both tell him and stay silent. The doctor's brows draw together silently for a moment before he reaches out again and his hand is on Jim's cheek.
They've only touched like this a few times- mostly it's companionable pats on the shoulder, smirks and playful wrestling. But a few times- the anniversary of Bones' divorce, Jim's birthday, Christmas- they draw near and it's comfort and warmth in touches. But this is none of those, and Jim's trying to figure out what to do with it.
"Look at me, Jimmy." And that does it, because suddenly Jim's not there anymore, and the last thing he can remember about it is Bones' caring eyes and his warm, warm, comforting hand on his cheek.
Leonard McCoy watches his friend, cowered in a corner and so unlike the James T. Kirk who struts around in a perfect juxtaposition to his own bitterness through life. He's still white as a sheet from the panic attack, his cheek burned pink by the back of Leo's own hand- the hand that's still stinging with a mix of terror and shame.
His own voice seems strangely dry as it echoes out of him, into the air, "Look at me, Jimmy." And suddenly Jim goes rigid before him, and his eyes are blown wide for an instant, flying from rage to terror to concern to pure, full GLEE.
Leo's thrown back onto his ass when the younger man's strong body is suddenly thrown at him, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath before he realizes that he's not being killed; he's being hugged and Jim's crying into his chest, voice heaving in little sobbing waves and sounding and acting so small, if he didn't know any better it would be a six-year-old in his lap.
He's so confused that he doesn't really catch on to the fact that Jim's saying words until his mind suddenly snaps to, "--and it's always so dark, and I keep trying to tell him no because Sam might hear and I don't want Sam to know about it--"
It doesn't make sense, and there's a little lisp to Jim's voice that's got him feeling like he should have known all this before now, and that it should all make sense, but it fucking doesn't. Jim's not stopping with the confusing things, though, and he's still babbling and all Leo can catch between hitching little sobs is "--you're always so nice and it'sokay because Jamie likes you, too, and he didn't mean to scare you, he just gets angry sometimes, but that's not his fault--"
And now McCoy's REALLY fucking lost, because who the fuck is Jamie, and when the fuck... Jim's hands are gripping into his shoulders suddenly and they're biting in as the younger man heaves himself up to look Leo in the eyes, and it's like a kind of dawn; looking into those pure, glistening and innocent eyes.
He can't say anything as Jim bites his lip apprehensively and thick brows draw together in something like apprehension. He's almost too shocked when Jim shrinks back slightly, hands loosening and twitching to draw away suddenly. "Please don' be mad at me, Leo, I'm sorry."
It's a moment before he can even get his mind on how whatthefuck this situation really is, and how deeply fucked Jim calling him anything but "Bones" is, and in that moment Jim's pressed against the wall again, just like before as he silently watches the doctor before him, lip quivering like he's about to cry.
"Since when--" he cuts himself off when he hears how high and panicky his voice is, gulping down the shock and taking a minute to count to ten and try to figure this out. "Since when do you call me Leo?"
Jim bites his lip, and the pearly white creates indents in the perfectly rosy flesh that make Leo want to reach out and stop it; his oceanic eyes glance around weakly, flitting first to Leo's hair, to his hands, to the biobed, to the abandoned hypo-spray across the room. His voice is even more tiny and weak when he speaks this time.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad." Leo's left staring at him as his lips tremble again and his eyes flash just a little bit, like he's battling with himself. There's a flash of rage in the placating stare affixed to Leo's face that nearly has him thinking this is all a lie.
"What- I'm not mad, Jim, but you always call me Bones." he considers the possibility of a concussion, but disregards it; thinks about the little bout of amnesia nearly a month ago in his room and reconsiders.
Jim hesitates, eyes going wide and lip wobbling a bit harder as his hands wind into his sleeve, stretching it and plucking at the standard-issue fabric. "No; Jimmy. Jim's with Jamie and Sam."
THAT stops McCoy cold.
He and Jim stare at one another for a long moment, the younger man twitching slightly under the scrutiny of the doctor.
"Jimmy?" it's whispered, and Leo ignores the jarred echo the word carries. The younger man nods, feet sliding to lower his knees away slightly even as his back curls over like he's still trying to protect his hands from Leo.
"Leo?" It's a bit quiet, and it sounds like he's talking through his nose- higher in pitch than what Jim usually uses. Leo looks down at him, curled lightly into the corner- just looks at him.
"Who are Sam and Jamie?" He feels terribly foolish asking it, but the other man's words- Jim's with Jamie and Sam- are ringing in his head, drowning out everything else but the panic that it causes...
Because, this can't really be happening- this is just Jim fucking with him, trying to get Leo to forgive him for THAT night. Or, better yet, he's asleep and this is all his mind's convoluted way of dreaming that Jim's more fucked up than he really is; he's not gone into the clinic yet, he's not talked to three patients longer than needed to force Jim to wait for him, and he's not watched his best friend cower from him in a corner.
But Jim looks up at him apprehensively, like a child who knows it's going to be in trouble for telling the truth, yet knows that if a lie is told it can't be upheld. The younger man gulps, and it sounds like it's exaggerate in the sudden quiet, but Leo admits that might just be him looking for the signs of acting.
Jim's voice, when he speaks, is low and quiet- it reminds him of the two times he's spoken to Jo over the Comm and she's done something wrong. "Sam's okay; he's nice and safe, most of the time... Jamie's always getting into trouble, though. Jim tries to tell him not to, but Jamie's really strong--" He cuts off and Leo watches a quick play of emotion on the younger man's face again-apprehension ragetrustapprehension- before he continues, "Sam had to come out for a while last week, because Jim wasn't doing his work."
Leo's still, frozen as he stares at Jim in the corner. He feels like he's about to be K-O'ed in a boxing match as he takes in those words. It doesn't make sense still, and he's confused as all fuck, but Jim's shaking his head now, and his eyes are closing.
Leo's leaning forward, ready to check for vitals the old-fashioned way, when he hears Jim muttering to himself. His voice isn't quite as strange as it's been for the past few minutes, but it's not the normal easy tone Leo's gotten used to. He can't help but hold his breath as the other man goes quiet, draws a deep breath, looks up at him with a shaky, hesitant smile.
"Sorry about the mess?"
He's a bit dizzy, and he feels pretty pissed off. But he can't deal with that just now, because Bones is kneeling in front of him looking about as freaked out as he had the one time the ex had called and asked if it was okay for Jo to come visit for a weekend while she had a second honeymoon. Except, without the underlying current of excited-puppy that had lit his face up like a kid at Christmas.
He feels about eighty different levels of a fool because, let's face it, he's got absolutely jack shit right now and Bones has just gotten in way past what the fuck he could possibly have thought Jim Kirk's friendship could fuck up.
He hates that his voice sounds like he's questioning himself, but right then he doesn't really give a flying fuck because he needs to make sure it really was Jimmy and that this isn't just Jamie fucking with him. Bones doesn't look hurt, but the room really is disordered- he has a little flash of innocent-memory panic, remembers flying away from Bones; remembers Jamie's thrill at getting away from the 'danger'.
But Bones wouldn't hurt him; Bones is reaching forward to gently rest a hand again on his shoulder, he can feel the older man's fingers move to rest gently on the curve of his neck and knows that his doctor-friend is checking his pulse. He also knows that he's gonna find it to be approximately eighty times too fast, because that's about what it feels like, watching and waiting for the other man to completely freak out.
Instead of an answer to his half-question-apology, or a rant flung so fast that even Jim has trouble following it, he's met with Bones leaning back onto his haunches and leveling a calm gaze on him.
"Jim?" Bones sounds a bit apprehensive, but there's something warm in his voice that has Jimmy fucking purring in the back of their head even as Jamie continues to prowl angrily. It takes a moment, but Sam seems to be there, calming again, forcing Jim to concentrategoddamnitconcentrate on the present. He doesn't trust his voice not to sound uneasy still, so he just nods, glances to the hand that Bones doesn't have resting half on his neck and relaxes slightly to find it empty, nods again. Bones seems to steel himself slightly before setting his mouth, eyebrow twitching like it's thinking about hiding in his hair like normal- part of Jim wants it to, needs the normality of it- but it doesn't, and instead Bones says, "Who are Sam and Jamie?"
He'd known it was coming- could have told himself a million times it was coming, because really McCoy's a doctor, so he has to get it- but the feeling in his gut, an oh shit free-fall awareness that this had really happened, had him biting his lip as his eyes bulged slightly. But Bones isn't giving up, instead he settles back to let his knees rest on the ground and take some of his weight, and Jim has to concede that at this point, trying to hide anything is kind of fucked.
"They--" his voice is low, a rasp that barely carries in the room. He clears his throat and tries again, "They're me."
For a second, Bones looks like he's gonna stay frozen like that indefinitely; his eyes are wide, and his body's gone rigid- if Jim didn't know any better, didn't see his chest rising and falling rapidly with breath, he'd have thought Bones had turned to stone. but the second breaks and his chest caves with the exhale that sounds like a huge gust of wind. The warm breath traces across Jim's jaw, makes him shiver as it makes Jamie freeze, shocked.
Bones' forehead creases for a moment as his brows furrow, and then Jim's pinned with his best friend's eyes again. "Which one was in the bar the other week?"
It's a bit of a mess for a minute, Jamie trying to snarl as Sam tries to take over and do damage control and Jimmy starts a jaunty hymn about truth and honesty. When he finally gets order back, can see straight again, he can tell that Bones has seen it, now. The struggle between them. It's like a weight has been simultaneously lifted and pressed into him, the way that Bones' eyes are drawn in some kind of miracle epiphany of understanding, the way that Jim can fucking see him connect almost all the dots. He finally answers, making sure his voice is level when he says, "It was Jamie- I don't even know what he did, I'm sorry."
Bones seems like he's considering the answer for a moment before he nods, seems to accept it. "Have I met Sam?"
Jim laughs; he can't help it, because, really this is just so fucked up. Bones sounds like he's asking about some guy in a bar, not about his best friend having four of himself trapped inside- sounds like he's inquiring about someone Jim may-or-may not have introduced him to rather than asking about weather or not there's more than onepsychopathically challenged freak rooming in Jim's head. Bones, for his part, looks a bit taken aback at his laughter, doesn't join in and only stares until Jim's calmed down enough to draw in a shaky breath and nod, once again.
"A couple times, actually." And it's not a lie; he remembers Sam tucking Bones in the blankets of the man's bed, taking away the alcohol when it was getting to be too much for either of them. Remembers the time, not that long ago, when Sam had taken care of both of their battered bodies after a bad round in their hand-to-hand course. Bones had helped, his hands andSams weaving around one another as though controlled by one mind, never mangling a move.
He can see it in Bones' face, he's trying to work out when he's met Sam, trying to see when Jim was different. It takes him a second, but Jim sighs. "We aren't that different- Sam and I, I mean. He's the protective brother in me, I guess."
He tries to play off the hitch in his throat on the word 'brother' but he can tell it doesn't work, can see the way Bones' eyes soften slightly. He's told Bones about his family before in short, clipped ways- 'My dad offed himself to save me and mom, who would probably have rather gone with him and who remarried an ass later, and my brother left when I was young.' But he can see the psycho-babel doctor bubbling up inside of Bones, fights not to squirm at the thought.
"When did this start, Jim?"
Jim can't help it, he balks at the question because very suddenly there's fucking nothing in his head but flashes- he's six, and there's hands everywhere, pain everywhere; he's fourteen, and he's staring down the barrel of death, ready to die; he's sixteen, and he knows that there is absolutely nothing he has power over in this world anymore. Bones' hands cupping his neck on both sides send him slamming back into himself, let the roar of memory die away and forces him to fixate his gaze on those steady eyes in front of him.
"It's been a really long time, Bones." His voice is weak, his body is numb, and his heart is so strong it's shaking his entire soul as he admits everything and nothing in one breath.
Continued....
Author: K_E_Wilson
Rating: R (overall- see warnings)
Word Count: ~4000 (look, a bit longer!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a few humble dreams and an appetite for angst.
Warnings: (more) Boys being uncomfortable, outbursts, mental instability, and general WTF-ery
Summary: He doesn't feel normal, and that's pretty okay-- maybe.
A/N: Not a lot of warnings for this chapter, but the long awaited (and much angst-ed) meeting with Bones is upon our dear Jim! What will he do? Not even I know. Special thanks to my BFF asakochan for putting up with my whoreish need for feedback and my endless angst-ing over weather or not this even made sense. Thank you, dear, I am forever indebted to you. /sob I'm still concerned about how this chapter came out, but I decided that if I angsted over it anymore, I'd have to just shoot it and start over, so here you have it. It's been cut in half, so there will be a second installment next week (otherwise there would be no suspense!)
Previous Chapters:
CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2, CHAPTER 3, CHAPTER 4, CHAPTER 5
It's the most awkward feeling he's ever had, walking into Medical building G the next day. Jamie's on edge, completely silent yet prowling and simply radiating tension to the rest of them. Jimmy's trying to sing, but he's tucked so far behind Sam's attempt at comfort via constant stream of mental imagery of the times he hadn't fucked up around McCoy in a bar that the little boy's lullaby is lost in the chaotic drivel.
He drags his feet there- the uncertainty of what the hell is waiting for him at the other end making him second guess weather or not it would be worth the demerits to simply not show up- and still manages to get inside to check in at exactly 1600. He's told to wait in the overly-white sterile room where he can only hear the chaotic thrum of his own mind and the occasional tak tak tak of boots going down the hall. Every time he hears the latter, he tenses, eyes flying to the door and mind going temporarily still as he waits for the goddamn door to just open and let him face the demons, because not knowing what the hell is going on is killing him.
He ends up nearly climbing the wall, fifteen minutes later when suddenly the door does fly open. Bones lifts one careful eyebrow pointedly at him, and Jim slowly forces his tense shoulders to relax, simultaneously trying to beat Jamie's urge to fly out of the room into submission. Sam's on edge now, too, and that feels weird- like someone's just slipped ice tea into a glass he was expecting the punch of flat rum from- it leaves him reeling slightly to have two of them bidding for the escape so suddenly until his eyes un-cross and he's staring directly into Bones' eyes.
The other man's weary, and pissed. He's leaning back against the wall, just to the left of the door, and he's clearly got a hypo in one hand. His mouth is in that too-thin line that's just screaming I-haven't-got-time-to-fuck-around-with-you but his body's so loose and comfortable that it seems like a mask left over from the twentieth century Halloween celebrations.
It's completely natural, Jim realizes distantly, for Bones to feel like the cat with the cornered mouse here. He's in his environment, and even if he is just a Cadet, he's a well-known MD before that, and anything he orders to be done here will be done, based simply on that fact alone. He could have Jim strapped to a table in the psych ward faster than even Jamie could have them out of there, and the Hypo in his hand is just proof of that.
Slowly, Jim settles himself more firmly onto the biobed he's been occupying for the past half hour, relaxing his hands and splaying the digits out on the clean surface, letting his shoulders fall completely limp and lowering his head slightly. He can feel Jamie screaming in the back of his mind, completely pissed at this train of action; the surrender of power, and he can feel Jimmy slowly beginning to bubble over into that insecure muttering crap that always fucking happens at the most inappropriate moments. With a shaky breath, he focuses on the now, brings his eyes to meet the wall just over Bones' right shoulder and clears his throat.
"I'm here." It's remarkable how calm his voice sounds, even as his heart spikes again and his palms get clammy. There's no reason for him to be freaking out as much as he is, but the four-way tug-of-war on his concentration is not what he needs right now; is probably the cause for his heart feeling like he's going on mile four in an obstacle course.
Bones shifts away from the wall suddenly, and he's across the room faster than Jim thought he could possibly have moved. His hands are pressing the younger cadet's shoulders, forcing him to bend forward, and suddenly Jim's stiff again and Jamie's screaming for him to fight back and there's the memory again...
Tarsus flashes through his mind, phaser fire suddenly shifting into huge, forcing hands and now Jimmy's freaking out, too. There's some little presence trying to regain control, but Jim's eyes are blown wide and he's too trapped to really pay attention, just knows he's gotta get the hell away. There's a voice above him, in front of him, it's a growl and it sounds about as scared as he feels but he knows that voice, god damn it, and he's got the feeling that he really should be paying attention to what the hell it's saying to him, but he just CAN'T because there'sKodos again, and- fuck didn't he watch him die just ten minutes-hours-days-years ago?- and there's big hands trying to restrain him and he could have sworn he told Frank not to fuck with him ever again....
The slap is sudden, stinging right across his cheek.
Jim realizes he's breathing too fast suddenly, and he's soaked in a thin sheet of ice-cold sweat. He's got his back pressed so hard against the corner of the walls that his shoulders are screaming at him and he's staring at Bones, who's on his knees in front of him, wincing and rubbing the back of his hand while watching him wearily. He looks around quickly, trying to understand how he got here- whereKodos and Frank disappeared to, why the room is such a ruin of the orderly area he'd been waiting--
It clicks just as suddenly as the slap hit him and he's gone pale and a bit light headed. Bones is slower this time, hand moving almost in a slow motion etch to grip his shoulder and shake him.
"Goddamnit, Jim, what the hell?" The voice sounds like Bones, and the warm, wide hand on his shoulder is warm like Bones, but the inflection is from someone who's scared to the point of desperation.
"Sorry, sorry..." Jim's own voice is faint, breathless, and he takes a big gulp of air before he continues, "I just didn't know--"
"Don't you dare lie to me, James Tiberius Kirk." Bones cuts him off, and he's not as scared-sounding anymore, but now Jim's scared, because Bones can't know anything's up, because that would just fuck up a pretty good history of being just-fine-thank-you. "You were having a panic attack, and then you started screaming. That is not about me."
Jim gulps slightly, hides it by taking another big gulp of air. He notices he's curled against the wall, hugging his knees, and buys a second for himself by leaning away from the corner, shoulders flooding with the heat that signals he'll have bruises in the morning. Bones watches him do it, watches him drop his hands from his legs and flatten them against the floor before he clears his throat and quirks his goddamn eyebrow in that way.
"Thought you were gonna hit me." And the strange part is that it feels like it's a lie in the same instant that it feels like the whole goddamn truth. Jimmy's in his mind sobbing that Leo wouldn't hurt us... while Jamie's still on edge. Sam's nowhere to be heard, and Jim feels like this is both a victory and a loss. So he elaborates, because he's only lied to Bones a few times in the time he's known the bitter man, and he doesn't want to fuck that up now with more half-truths. "Thought something bad was gonna happen."
Bones looks weary as he sits back on his heels, eyes still on Jim as he takes a moment to consider. Jim takes the time to look Bones over; his hair's disheveled, like he's done some dodging- Jim suspects he was swinging- and his hand's starting to turn red from where he slapped Jim's cheek, and his face looks a bit pasty like he's beginning to get a very sick feeling in his stomach. He imagines his face isn't looking too hot right now, either, so he throws that last aside.
"What's going on here?" the question's a bit quiet but it's sudden, too. Jim stares at Bones for a moment, and suddenly there's Sam and he wants control. Jimmy's reaching out, trying to force himself out, too, and Jamie's right there beside.
He manages a strangled little gasp before he's staring right at Bones, trying to both tell him and stay silent. The doctor's brows draw together silently for a moment before he reaches out again and his hand is on Jim's cheek.
They've only touched like this a few times- mostly it's companionable pats on the shoulder, smirks and playful wrestling. But a few times- the anniversary of Bones' divorce, Jim's birthday, Christmas- they draw near and it's comfort and warmth in touches. But this is none of those, and Jim's trying to figure out what to do with it.
"Look at me, Jimmy." And that does it, because suddenly Jim's not there anymore, and the last thing he can remember about it is Bones' caring eyes and his warm, warm, comforting hand on his cheek.
Leonard McCoy watches his friend, cowered in a corner and so unlike the James T. Kirk who struts around in a perfect juxtaposition to his own bitterness through life. He's still white as a sheet from the panic attack, his cheek burned pink by the back of Leo's own hand- the hand that's still stinging with a mix of terror and shame.
His own voice seems strangely dry as it echoes out of him, into the air, "Look at me, Jimmy." And suddenly Jim goes rigid before him, and his eyes are blown wide for an instant, flying from rage to terror to concern to pure, full GLEE.
Leo's thrown back onto his ass when the younger man's strong body is suddenly thrown at him, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath before he realizes that he's not being killed; he's being hugged and Jim's crying into his chest, voice heaving in little sobbing waves and sounding and acting so small, if he didn't know any better it would be a six-year-old in his lap.
He's so confused that he doesn't really catch on to the fact that Jim's saying words until his mind suddenly snaps to, "--and it's always so dark, and I keep trying to tell him no because Sam might hear and I don't want Sam to know about it--"
It doesn't make sense, and there's a little lisp to Jim's voice that's got him feeling like he should have known all this before now, and that it should all make sense, but it fucking doesn't. Jim's not stopping with the confusing things, though, and he's still babbling and all Leo can catch between hitching little sobs is "--you're always so nice and it'sokay because Jamie likes you, too, and he didn't mean to scare you, he just gets angry sometimes, but that's not his fault--"
And now McCoy's REALLY fucking lost, because who the fuck is Jamie, and when the fuck... Jim's hands are gripping into his shoulders suddenly and they're biting in as the younger man heaves himself up to look Leo in the eyes, and it's like a kind of dawn; looking into those pure, glistening and innocent eyes.
He can't say anything as Jim bites his lip apprehensively and thick brows draw together in something like apprehension. He's almost too shocked when Jim shrinks back slightly, hands loosening and twitching to draw away suddenly. "Please don' be mad at me, Leo, I'm sorry."
It's a moment before he can even get his mind on how whatthefuck this situation really is, and how deeply fucked Jim calling him anything but "Bones" is, and in that moment Jim's pressed against the wall again, just like before as he silently watches the doctor before him, lip quivering like he's about to cry.
"Since when--" he cuts himself off when he hears how high and panicky his voice is, gulping down the shock and taking a minute to count to ten and try to figure this out. "Since when do you call me Leo?"
Jim bites his lip, and the pearly white creates indents in the perfectly rosy flesh that make Leo want to reach out and stop it; his oceanic eyes glance around weakly, flitting first to Leo's hair, to his hands, to the biobed, to the abandoned hypo-spray across the room. His voice is even more tiny and weak when he speaks this time.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad." Leo's left staring at him as his lips tremble again and his eyes flash just a little bit, like he's battling with himself. There's a flash of rage in the placating stare affixed to Leo's face that nearly has him thinking this is all a lie.
"What- I'm not mad, Jim, but you always call me Bones." he considers the possibility of a concussion, but disregards it; thinks about the little bout of amnesia nearly a month ago in his room and reconsiders.
Jim hesitates, eyes going wide and lip wobbling a bit harder as his hands wind into his sleeve, stretching it and plucking at the standard-issue fabric. "No; Jimmy. Jim's with Jamie and Sam."
THAT stops McCoy cold.
He and Jim stare at one another for a long moment, the younger man twitching slightly under the scrutiny of the doctor.
"Jimmy?" it's whispered, and Leo ignores the jarred echo the word carries. The younger man nods, feet sliding to lower his knees away slightly even as his back curls over like he's still trying to protect his hands from Leo.
"Leo?" It's a bit quiet, and it sounds like he's talking through his nose- higher in pitch than what Jim usually uses. Leo looks down at him, curled lightly into the corner- just looks at him.
"Who are Sam and Jamie?" He feels terribly foolish asking it, but the other man's words- Jim's with Jamie and Sam- are ringing in his head, drowning out everything else but the panic that it causes...
Because, this can't really be happening- this is just Jim fucking with him, trying to get Leo to forgive him for THAT night. Or, better yet, he's asleep and this is all his mind's convoluted way of dreaming that Jim's more fucked up than he really is; he's not gone into the clinic yet, he's not talked to three patients longer than needed to force Jim to wait for him, and he's not watched his best friend cower from him in a corner.
But Jim looks up at him apprehensively, like a child who knows it's going to be in trouble for telling the truth, yet knows that if a lie is told it can't be upheld. The younger man gulps, and it sounds like it's exaggerate in the sudden quiet, but Leo admits that might just be him looking for the signs of acting.
Jim's voice, when he speaks, is low and quiet- it reminds him of the two times he's spoken to Jo over the Comm and she's done something wrong. "Sam's okay; he's nice and safe, most of the time... Jamie's always getting into trouble, though. Jim tries to tell him not to, but Jamie's really strong--" He cuts off and Leo watches a quick play of emotion on the younger man's face again-apprehension ragetrustapprehension- before he continues, "Sam had to come out for a while last week, because Jim wasn't doing his work."
Leo's still, frozen as he stares at Jim in the corner. He feels like he's about to be K-O'ed in a boxing match as he takes in those words. It doesn't make sense still, and he's confused as all fuck, but Jim's shaking his head now, and his eyes are closing.
Leo's leaning forward, ready to check for vitals the old-fashioned way, when he hears Jim muttering to himself. His voice isn't quite as strange as it's been for the past few minutes, but it's not the normal easy tone Leo's gotten used to. He can't help but hold his breath as the other man goes quiet, draws a deep breath, looks up at him with a shaky, hesitant smile.
"Sorry about the mess?"
He's a bit dizzy, and he feels pretty pissed off. But he can't deal with that just now, because Bones is kneeling in front of him looking about as freaked out as he had the one time the ex had called and asked if it was okay for Jo to come visit for a weekend while she had a second honeymoon. Except, without the underlying current of excited-puppy that had lit his face up like a kid at Christmas.
He feels about eighty different levels of a fool because, let's face it, he's got absolutely jack shit right now and Bones has just gotten in way past what the fuck he could possibly have thought Jim Kirk's friendship could fuck up.
He hates that his voice sounds like he's questioning himself, but right then he doesn't really give a flying fuck because he needs to make sure it really was Jimmy and that this isn't just Jamie fucking with him. Bones doesn't look hurt, but the room really is disordered- he has a little flash of innocent-memory panic, remembers flying away from Bones; remembers Jamie's thrill at getting away from the 'danger'.
But Bones wouldn't hurt him; Bones is reaching forward to gently rest a hand again on his shoulder, he can feel the older man's fingers move to rest gently on the curve of his neck and knows that his doctor-friend is checking his pulse. He also knows that he's gonna find it to be approximately eighty times too fast, because that's about what it feels like, watching and waiting for the other man to completely freak out.
Instead of an answer to his half-question-apology, or a rant flung so fast that even Jim has trouble following it, he's met with Bones leaning back onto his haunches and leveling a calm gaze on him.
"Jim?" Bones sounds a bit apprehensive, but there's something warm in his voice that has Jimmy fucking purring in the back of their head even as Jamie continues to prowl angrily. It takes a moment, but Sam seems to be there, calming again, forcing Jim to concentrategoddamnitconcentrate on the present. He doesn't trust his voice not to sound uneasy still, so he just nods, glances to the hand that Bones doesn't have resting half on his neck and relaxes slightly to find it empty, nods again. Bones seems to steel himself slightly before setting his mouth, eyebrow twitching like it's thinking about hiding in his hair like normal- part of Jim wants it to, needs the normality of it- but it doesn't, and instead Bones says, "Who are Sam and Jamie?"
He'd known it was coming- could have told himself a million times it was coming, because really McCoy's a doctor, so he has to get it- but the feeling in his gut, an oh shit free-fall awareness that this had really happened, had him biting his lip as his eyes bulged slightly. But Bones isn't giving up, instead he settles back to let his knees rest on the ground and take some of his weight, and Jim has to concede that at this point, trying to hide anything is kind of fucked.
"They--" his voice is low, a rasp that barely carries in the room. He clears his throat and tries again, "They're me."
For a second, Bones looks like he's gonna stay frozen like that indefinitely; his eyes are wide, and his body's gone rigid- if Jim didn't know any better, didn't see his chest rising and falling rapidly with breath, he'd have thought Bones had turned to stone. but the second breaks and his chest caves with the exhale that sounds like a huge gust of wind. The warm breath traces across Jim's jaw, makes him shiver as it makes Jamie freeze, shocked.
Bones' forehead creases for a moment as his brows furrow, and then Jim's pinned with his best friend's eyes again. "Which one was in the bar the other week?"
It's a bit of a mess for a minute, Jamie trying to snarl as Sam tries to take over and do damage control and Jimmy starts a jaunty hymn about truth and honesty. When he finally gets order back, can see straight again, he can tell that Bones has seen it, now. The struggle between them. It's like a weight has been simultaneously lifted and pressed into him, the way that Bones' eyes are drawn in some kind of miracle epiphany of understanding, the way that Jim can fucking see him connect almost all the dots. He finally answers, making sure his voice is level when he says, "It was Jamie- I don't even know what he did, I'm sorry."
Bones seems like he's considering the answer for a moment before he nods, seems to accept it. "Have I met Sam?"
Jim laughs; he can't help it, because, really this is just so fucked up. Bones sounds like he's asking about some guy in a bar, not about his best friend having four of himself trapped inside- sounds like he's inquiring about someone Jim may-or-may not have introduced him to rather than asking about weather or not there's more than onepsychopathically challenged freak rooming in Jim's head. Bones, for his part, looks a bit taken aback at his laughter, doesn't join in and only stares until Jim's calmed down enough to draw in a shaky breath and nod, once again.
"A couple times, actually." And it's not a lie; he remembers Sam tucking Bones in the blankets of the man's bed, taking away the alcohol when it was getting to be too much for either of them. Remembers the time, not that long ago, when Sam had taken care of both of their battered bodies after a bad round in their hand-to-hand course. Bones had helped, his hands andSams weaving around one another as though controlled by one mind, never mangling a move.
He can see it in Bones' face, he's trying to work out when he's met Sam, trying to see when Jim was different. It takes him a second, but Jim sighs. "We aren't that different- Sam and I, I mean. He's the protective brother in me, I guess."
He tries to play off the hitch in his throat on the word 'brother' but he can tell it doesn't work, can see the way Bones' eyes soften slightly. He's told Bones about his family before in short, clipped ways- 'My dad offed himself to save me and mom, who would probably have rather gone with him and who remarried an ass later, and my brother left when I was young.' But he can see the psycho-babel doctor bubbling up inside of Bones, fights not to squirm at the thought.
"When did this start, Jim?"
Jim can't help it, he balks at the question because very suddenly there's fucking nothing in his head but flashes- he's six, and there's hands everywhere, pain everywhere; he's fourteen, and he's staring down the barrel of death, ready to die; he's sixteen, and he knows that there is absolutely nothing he has power over in this world anymore. Bones' hands cupping his neck on both sides send him slamming back into himself, let the roar of memory die away and forces him to fixate his gaze on those steady eyes in front of him.
"It's been a really long time, Bones." His voice is weak, his body is numb, and his heart is so strong it's shaking his entire soul as he admits everything and nothing in one breath.
Continued....