Fic: Before the Dawn
Title: Before the Dawn
Author: linelenagain
Rating: PG
Words: 2,373
Beta: The wonderful near_family, whose patience is endless, as is her kindness. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Summary: Sequel to It's Always Darkest, which was written for prompt #2 of Ship Wars at st_respect. The original prompt was “Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.”
Notes: I always intended this to be part of the original story, but there was just no way I could meet the thousand-word limit. Also, this fic would never have been finished without mga1999, who talked me through it like you’d talk a jumper off a ledge. THANK YOU, BB!
“So, Spock’s pissed,” Bones drawled at him over the hiss of the communicator.
Jim smiled a little. “If he were, you wouldn’t know it.”
“Oh, not this time. He was actually frowning as he stormed off. Said something about fixing one of the shuttles. Also something about not choking you enough lately.”
“Liar.”
“Just the last part.”
“Where are you, Bones?” Jim asked, but what he really meant was Can we talk freely?
“I’m in the transporter room,” Bones replied, the warning tone indicating a negative. “Trying to get your damn Engineer moving. He doesn’t think Spock’s going to be able to fix the shuttle.”
Jim closed his eyes, because that was a disappointment, even though he had expected it. “Yeah, I figured. The electrical systems on the shuttles don’t have as many fail-safes as the Enterprise.”
“You’re missing quite an uproar. I’m pretty sure everyone on board who’s ever so much as taken a weekend seminar on ship maintenance is crammed in here.”
Jim thought about saying something frivolous, like ‘glad I’m down here, then’ but he didn’t think Bones would appreciate the levity. “Scotty must love that.”
“He looks pretty irritated.”
“Go send them to bother Spock or something. Let ‘em feel useful while Scotty gets some real work done.”
“All right. I’ll comm you when I get back to my quarters.”
“You do that. Kirk out.” The channel stayed open for a long moment before Jim cut the connection. He couldn’t bring himself to find out exactly how long Bones would wait.
--
The static of the comm faded, and for the first time, Jim felt truly alone. It was dark, in a way that the Enterprise never was - the on-board lights never dimmed below five percent, even in his quarters. But here, on this gray and overcast planet, it was dark.
It was also cold, and the wind hit him more harshly than he’d expected, slipping through his layers of clothing and biting at his skin. He’d thought, being a native son of Iowa, that he was made of sterner stuff, but years of soft living in San Francisco and on a climate-controlled starship had apparently accustomed him to gentler conditions.
Well don’t just stand there, idiot. Get moving.
Jim smiled. It was probably a sign of crippling co-dependency, but right now he was strangely comforted by the fact that the voice in his head sounded just like Bones.
Finish your internal monologue later. Right now, get out of the wind.
Jim nodded, and made his way slowly towards a likely-looking shadow. Fumbling, he reached out and balanced himself against it, confirming that it was, in fact, a rather large tree.
He positioned himself on the lee side, clearing as much loose snow as he could from a small patch of ground, and sat down to wait.
--
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a lot to think about. One way or another, it had been a life-changing day. But Jim was cold, not just slightly chilled, but cold to his bones.
He tried to think of warm things, like fire, blankets, coffee, but his mind always came back to the same refrain: he was cold. He was so very, very cold.
His internal clock was shot to hell, so he didn’t know if a few minutes, or more than an hour had passed when his communicator lit up with a burst of static.
“Jim?” Bones’ voice greeted him, worried but welcome.
“Yeah, Bones?” Jim answered immediately, making an effort to sound bright and strong and not at all suffering.
“How’re you doin’?” Judging by his tone, Jim’s effort was wasted, but he pressed on.
“It’s pretty damn cold, here.”
There was a long silence, and Jim knew that whatever Bones was working himself up to say, it wasn’t going to be good.
“I’ve got some bad news.”
Jim closed his eyes, braced himself. “Hit me.”
“Scotty says that when the planet gets three-quarters through its rotation, we’ll lose the comm signal. Usually he’d adjust the ship’s position slightly to compensate, but the impulse engines aren’t back online yet.”
“Ah.”
“So don’t wander off, okay? We’re going to lose you on tracking, so you have to stay where we can find you.”
“After you lose the signal, you won’t be able to beam me up. The ship won’t be able to see me. You know that.” Jim slammed his fist into the ground, and instantly regretted it as he felt a little more of his body heat seep into the compacted snow.
“I know. Scotty says we can go down and find you, though. Once you’re in range of one of our comms, we can grab you.”
“If you can find me.”
“I’ll find you.”
And even though it defied logic, and shouldn’t provide any comfort at all, really, the certainty in Bones’s voice made Jim believe. He squeezed his eyes shut. Frozen tears were the last thing he needed right now. “I’m really cold, Bones.”
“I know, Jimmy,” Bones said, and that hurt more than the icy fist currently squeezing Jim’s chest. He never wanted to hear Bones sound so helpless.
He sat up straight, pulled himself together, and tried to force some strength into his voice. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”
“You remember all those wilderness survival courses you took? Don’t let yourself sweat, arrange your clothes so the warm air makes layers, all that?” Jim could have laughed at that, because wasn’t just it like them to try and comfort each other in the exact same way?
“I’m trying. I’m really glad you made me wear the winter gear.”
“Me too," Bones said, and there was a yearning in his voice Jim was unused to. "Somebody’s gotta look after you.”
“You’re good at that,” Jim said, because he knew it would be comforting.
“Did you mean it, Jim?” Bones asked, and it was clear he wasn’t talking about warm clothes.
Jim wanted to say a lot of things, like ‘of course’ and ‘always’ and ‘yes, and you never said it back, by the way.’ But that was more than either of them needed right now. “I meant it.”
“Say it again, then.” Jim could tell from his tone that Bones was smiling, and that ached. Bones didn’t smile so often that Jim could miss one without regret.
But he imagined it, and tried to smile back. “Next time I see you.”
“Okay, Jim. Okay.”
--
“We’re gonna lose the comms, Jim.”
Jim had known this moment was coming; Bones’ voice was barely audible over the static now. Exhausted, he was unable to muster more than a regretful "Okay."
“Listen. It’s not gonna be long now. Scotty’s almost done fixing the transporter. Just a little longer, Jim, okay?”
Jim closed his eyes, and leaned back against the tree. He felt it draw more badly-needed heat away from him, but couldn’t work up the energy to move, or even shiver. “I always thought I was going to die alone, Bones.”
It was hard to tell over the interference, but Jim thought he heard Bones take a ragged breath. “Shut up, Jim, don’t say that.”
“No, listen. Listen. I always thought I was going to die alone. But I was wrong. Because you’re always with me.” Jim wished his head were clearer, and that he wasn’t so very tired, because he really needed Bones to understand what he was saying. To know.
“You’re always with me, Bones. Even here. Even when we can’t talk anymore, I won’t feel like I’m alone.”
“Jim,” Bones said, and Jim was glad the comm was choppy and full of static, because it concealed the emotion in his voice. “Promise me you’ll hold on a little longer, just a little longer. I know you’ve been fighting hard, and you’re so tired. But you have to promise me you’ll wait. Because the second the transporter’s fixed, the very second, I’m going to come and get you. So promise me you’ll be there when I do.”
Jim sat up a little straighter, shook himself awake. “I promise, Bones. I’ll wait.”
There was no answer.
--
Time passed. He didn’t know how much. He caught himself drifting, blinking slowly and falling into a warm and comfortable sleep. He forced himself awake, jolted himself into the icy present, but it hurt, and every time it it happened it hurt a little more.
Wake up.
His eyes closed, and he forced them open, but they were impossibly heavy, like stones. And though he knew the heat suffusing him was treacherous, and false, all he wanted at that moment was to give in to it; to let go and pretend that he was sinking into warm and welcoming arms, and rest.
Jim, wake up. You promised.
He forced his eyes all the way open, then narrowed them against the glare. The world around him was burning, drenched in the sharp, glittering brightness of new sun on virgin snow.
He heard voices, but muffled, as if the speakers were a long way away. And he was so tired, so infused with exhaustion in every fiber of his being that he didn’t think he could stay awake a moment longer, certainly not long enough for them to reach him. But he’d promised, he remembered. And though he wasn’t clear on the details, not sure what he’s promised, or to whom, he clung to awareness, forcing his eyes open and scanning the horizon.
He saw the figures in the distance, silhouetted by the encroaching dawn. They grew larger and larger as they approached, one ahead of all the others, aimed towards him like the needle of a compass, and flying over the snow like a shadow.
The figure kneeled next to him, pulling him up by the shoulders, blocking the harsh light and staring at him with wide, familiar eyes. They were green and brown, like spring, without a trace of winter.
Promise fulfilled, Jim gave himself up to the weariness. As he drifted, he took a moment to be grateful for the vision of Bones frowning over him, haloed by the new day.
--
Epilogue: The New Day
It was the light that woke him, so bright that he could see it from behind closed eyes. He cracked his eyelids slowly, and the painful, bright whiteness surrounding him burned into his retinas.
He forced his eyes open all at once, convinced the light surrounding him was sunlight on new snow, that he was still alone in the cold. He tried to throw himself into a standing position, but the muscles in his back and legs were not on board with his plan, and he collapsed again, sharp pains coursing through his body.
“Easy, Jim,” he heard a soft voice off to his left, and felt firm hands push him back down into what he now realized was a bed. “Easy. I’ve got you, you’re back on the Enterprise, and you’re safe.”
Jim shivered, because he still felt frozen all the way through. He tried to turn his head, to speak, but his futile efforts to rise had depleted his already small store of energy, and he diverted whatever was left towards keeping his eyes open, because he had to see, had to be sure.
Bones leaned over him, and Jim felt every muscle in his body suddenly relax, like he was melting.
Bones stared, as if he couldn’t tell whether or not Jim was real, or just something he might be imagining. “You are an ignorant, idiotic, moron with a hero complex that psychiatrists will be studying for centuries. Words cannot express the depth of my hatred for you.”
And that gave Jim the energy to smile. “Love you too, Bones,” he whispered, wincing at the weakness in his voice.
Bones leaned down, touched their foreheads together. “You always have to do things in the most dramatic way possible, don’t you, Jim? Couldn’t take me out for a nice dinner somewhere? Bring it up one night over drinks? Pretty much anything but marooning yourself on an ice-planet? Again?”
“You love it. All your girlfriends will be jealous.” And that was the end of Jim’s reserves. Spent, his eyes drifted shut.
Warm lips pressed against his forehead. “Yeah, I love you, you empty-headed mouth-breather.” He felt Bones clasp his hand. “And I’ve got you now. Never letting you out of my sight again, you hear? Look at the idiotic things you get up to on your own.”
Bones’s voice moved closer, until it was right next to his ear, and a whisper. “I thought you were gone, Jim. I thought you were gone and I was all alone.”
Jim tried hard, so hard to squeeze Bones’s hand, to speak, to tell him that was never going to happen because even when Jim wasn’t with him, he always kind of was.
And even though Jim was sure he hadn’t been able to muster the strength, he felt Bones squeeze back. “I know,” Bones whispered. “I know. Sleep. We’ll talk more when you wake up. Because you’re mine now, and you’re going to have to learn to take better care of my things.”
Warmth bloomed in Jim’s chest as he drifted, and his last waking thought was that it felt good, and clean, and sweet like sunshine.
Author: linelenagain
Rating: PG
Words: 2,373
Beta: The wonderful near_family, whose patience is endless, as is her kindness. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Summary: Sequel to It's Always Darkest, which was written for prompt #2 of Ship Wars at st_respect. The original prompt was “Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.”
Notes: I always intended this to be part of the original story, but there was just no way I could meet the thousand-word limit. Also, this fic would never have been finished without mga1999, who talked me through it like you’d talk a jumper off a ledge. THANK YOU, BB!
“So, Spock’s pissed,” Bones drawled at him over the hiss of the communicator.
Jim smiled a little. “If he were, you wouldn’t know it.”
“Oh, not this time. He was actually frowning as he stormed off. Said something about fixing one of the shuttles. Also something about not choking you enough lately.”
“Liar.”
“Just the last part.”
“Where are you, Bones?” Jim asked, but what he really meant was Can we talk freely?
“I’m in the transporter room,” Bones replied, the warning tone indicating a negative. “Trying to get your damn Engineer moving. He doesn’t think Spock’s going to be able to fix the shuttle.”
Jim closed his eyes, because that was a disappointment, even though he had expected it. “Yeah, I figured. The electrical systems on the shuttles don’t have as many fail-safes as the Enterprise.”
“You’re missing quite an uproar. I’m pretty sure everyone on board who’s ever so much as taken a weekend seminar on ship maintenance is crammed in here.”
Jim thought about saying something frivolous, like ‘glad I’m down here, then’ but he didn’t think Bones would appreciate the levity. “Scotty must love that.”
“He looks pretty irritated.”
“Go send them to bother Spock or something. Let ‘em feel useful while Scotty gets some real work done.”
“All right. I’ll comm you when I get back to my quarters.”
“You do that. Kirk out.” The channel stayed open for a long moment before Jim cut the connection. He couldn’t bring himself to find out exactly how long Bones would wait.
--
The static of the comm faded, and for the first time, Jim felt truly alone. It was dark, in a way that the Enterprise never was - the on-board lights never dimmed below five percent, even in his quarters. But here, on this gray and overcast planet, it was dark.
It was also cold, and the wind hit him more harshly than he’d expected, slipping through his layers of clothing and biting at his skin. He’d thought, being a native son of Iowa, that he was made of sterner stuff, but years of soft living in San Francisco and on a climate-controlled starship had apparently accustomed him to gentler conditions.
Well don’t just stand there, idiot. Get moving.
Jim smiled. It was probably a sign of crippling co-dependency, but right now he was strangely comforted by the fact that the voice in his head sounded just like Bones.
Finish your internal monologue later. Right now, get out of the wind.
Jim nodded, and made his way slowly towards a likely-looking shadow. Fumbling, he reached out and balanced himself against it, confirming that it was, in fact, a rather large tree.
He positioned himself on the lee side, clearing as much loose snow as he could from a small patch of ground, and sat down to wait.
--
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a lot to think about. One way or another, it had been a life-changing day. But Jim was cold, not just slightly chilled, but cold to his bones.
He tried to think of warm things, like fire, blankets, coffee, but his mind always came back to the same refrain: he was cold. He was so very, very cold.
His internal clock was shot to hell, so he didn’t know if a few minutes, or more than an hour had passed when his communicator lit up with a burst of static.
“Jim?” Bones’ voice greeted him, worried but welcome.
“Yeah, Bones?” Jim answered immediately, making an effort to sound bright and strong and not at all suffering.
“How’re you doin’?” Judging by his tone, Jim’s effort was wasted, but he pressed on.
“It’s pretty damn cold, here.”
There was a long silence, and Jim knew that whatever Bones was working himself up to say, it wasn’t going to be good.
“I’ve got some bad news.”
Jim closed his eyes, braced himself. “Hit me.”
“Scotty says that when the planet gets three-quarters through its rotation, we’ll lose the comm signal. Usually he’d adjust the ship’s position slightly to compensate, but the impulse engines aren’t back online yet.”
“Ah.”
“So don’t wander off, okay? We’re going to lose you on tracking, so you have to stay where we can find you.”
“After you lose the signal, you won’t be able to beam me up. The ship won’t be able to see me. You know that.” Jim slammed his fist into the ground, and instantly regretted it as he felt a little more of his body heat seep into the compacted snow.
“I know. Scotty says we can go down and find you, though. Once you’re in range of one of our comms, we can grab you.”
“If you can find me.”
“I’ll find you.”
And even though it defied logic, and shouldn’t provide any comfort at all, really, the certainty in Bones’s voice made Jim believe. He squeezed his eyes shut. Frozen tears were the last thing he needed right now. “I’m really cold, Bones.”
“I know, Jimmy,” Bones said, and that hurt more than the icy fist currently squeezing Jim’s chest. He never wanted to hear Bones sound so helpless.
He sat up straight, pulled himself together, and tried to force some strength into his voice. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”
“You remember all those wilderness survival courses you took? Don’t let yourself sweat, arrange your clothes so the warm air makes layers, all that?” Jim could have laughed at that, because wasn’t just it like them to try and comfort each other in the exact same way?
“I’m trying. I’m really glad you made me wear the winter gear.”
“Me too," Bones said, and there was a yearning in his voice Jim was unused to. "Somebody’s gotta look after you.”
“You’re good at that,” Jim said, because he knew it would be comforting.
“Did you mean it, Jim?” Bones asked, and it was clear he wasn’t talking about warm clothes.
Jim wanted to say a lot of things, like ‘of course’ and ‘always’ and ‘yes, and you never said it back, by the way.’ But that was more than either of them needed right now. “I meant it.”
“Say it again, then.” Jim could tell from his tone that Bones was smiling, and that ached. Bones didn’t smile so often that Jim could miss one without regret.
But he imagined it, and tried to smile back. “Next time I see you.”
“Okay, Jim. Okay.”
--
“We’re gonna lose the comms, Jim.”
Jim had known this moment was coming; Bones’ voice was barely audible over the static now. Exhausted, he was unable to muster more than a regretful "Okay."
“Listen. It’s not gonna be long now. Scotty’s almost done fixing the transporter. Just a little longer, Jim, okay?”
Jim closed his eyes, and leaned back against the tree. He felt it draw more badly-needed heat away from him, but couldn’t work up the energy to move, or even shiver. “I always thought I was going to die alone, Bones.”
It was hard to tell over the interference, but Jim thought he heard Bones take a ragged breath. “Shut up, Jim, don’t say that.”
“No, listen. Listen. I always thought I was going to die alone. But I was wrong. Because you’re always with me.” Jim wished his head were clearer, and that he wasn’t so very tired, because he really needed Bones to understand what he was saying. To know.
“You’re always with me, Bones. Even here. Even when we can’t talk anymore, I won’t feel like I’m alone.”
“Jim,” Bones said, and Jim was glad the comm was choppy and full of static, because it concealed the emotion in his voice. “Promise me you’ll hold on a little longer, just a little longer. I know you’ve been fighting hard, and you’re so tired. But you have to promise me you’ll wait. Because the second the transporter’s fixed, the very second, I’m going to come and get you. So promise me you’ll be there when I do.”
Jim sat up a little straighter, shook himself awake. “I promise, Bones. I’ll wait.”
There was no answer.
--
Time passed. He didn’t know how much. He caught himself drifting, blinking slowly and falling into a warm and comfortable sleep. He forced himself awake, jolted himself into the icy present, but it hurt, and every time it it happened it hurt a little more.
Wake up.
His eyes closed, and he forced them open, but they were impossibly heavy, like stones. And though he knew the heat suffusing him was treacherous, and false, all he wanted at that moment was to give in to it; to let go and pretend that he was sinking into warm and welcoming arms, and rest.
Jim, wake up. You promised.
He forced his eyes all the way open, then narrowed them against the glare. The world around him was burning, drenched in the sharp, glittering brightness of new sun on virgin snow.
He heard voices, but muffled, as if the speakers were a long way away. And he was so tired, so infused with exhaustion in every fiber of his being that he didn’t think he could stay awake a moment longer, certainly not long enough for them to reach him. But he’d promised, he remembered. And though he wasn’t clear on the details, not sure what he’s promised, or to whom, he clung to awareness, forcing his eyes open and scanning the horizon.
He saw the figures in the distance, silhouetted by the encroaching dawn. They grew larger and larger as they approached, one ahead of all the others, aimed towards him like the needle of a compass, and flying over the snow like a shadow.
The figure kneeled next to him, pulling him up by the shoulders, blocking the harsh light and staring at him with wide, familiar eyes. They were green and brown, like spring, without a trace of winter.
Promise fulfilled, Jim gave himself up to the weariness. As he drifted, he took a moment to be grateful for the vision of Bones frowning over him, haloed by the new day.
--
Epilogue: The New Day
It was the light that woke him, so bright that he could see it from behind closed eyes. He cracked his eyelids slowly, and the painful, bright whiteness surrounding him burned into his retinas.
He forced his eyes open all at once, convinced the light surrounding him was sunlight on new snow, that he was still alone in the cold. He tried to throw himself into a standing position, but the muscles in his back and legs were not on board with his plan, and he collapsed again, sharp pains coursing through his body.
“Easy, Jim,” he heard a soft voice off to his left, and felt firm hands push him back down into what he now realized was a bed. “Easy. I’ve got you, you’re back on the Enterprise, and you’re safe.”
Jim shivered, because he still felt frozen all the way through. He tried to turn his head, to speak, but his futile efforts to rise had depleted his already small store of energy, and he diverted whatever was left towards keeping his eyes open, because he had to see, had to be sure.
Bones leaned over him, and Jim felt every muscle in his body suddenly relax, like he was melting.
Bones stared, as if he couldn’t tell whether or not Jim was real, or just something he might be imagining. “You are an ignorant, idiotic, moron with a hero complex that psychiatrists will be studying for centuries. Words cannot express the depth of my hatred for you.”
And that gave Jim the energy to smile. “Love you too, Bones,” he whispered, wincing at the weakness in his voice.
Bones leaned down, touched their foreheads together. “You always have to do things in the most dramatic way possible, don’t you, Jim? Couldn’t take me out for a nice dinner somewhere? Bring it up one night over drinks? Pretty much anything but marooning yourself on an ice-planet? Again?”
“You love it. All your girlfriends will be jealous.” And that was the end of Jim’s reserves. Spent, his eyes drifted shut.
Warm lips pressed against his forehead. “Yeah, I love you, you empty-headed mouth-breather.” He felt Bones clasp his hand. “And I’ve got you now. Never letting you out of my sight again, you hear? Look at the idiotic things you get up to on your own.”
Bones’s voice moved closer, until it was right next to his ear, and a whisper. “I thought you were gone, Jim. I thought you were gone and I was all alone.”
Jim tried hard, so hard to squeeze Bones’s hand, to speak, to tell him that was never going to happen because even when Jim wasn’t with him, he always kind of was.
And even though Jim was sure he hadn’t been able to muster the strength, he felt Bones squeeze back. “I know,” Bones whispered. “I know. Sleep. We’ll talk more when you wake up. Because you’re mine now, and you’re going to have to learn to take better care of my things.”
Warmth bloomed in Jim’s chest as he drifted, and his last waking thought was that it felt good, and clean, and sweet like sunshine.