Fic: First Gain the Victory, Kirk/McCoy, R (1/2)
Title: First Gain the Victory
Author: sail_aweigh
Rating: R
Warnings: prostitution, drinking and hanky-panky, Age of Sail AU
Word count: ~17,300
Summary: Jim will never regret taking the advice of his hero, Admiral Lord Nelson.
A/N: This (not so little) fic is a gift for the Kirk/McCoy advent community, space_wrapped. It would not have been completed, or turned out even more delightful than I hoped, without the help and encouragement of my lovely beta, lindmere. Thank you so much, hon, you rock my world.
Apothecary by scatter_muse
"Give it back!"
First Lieutenant Jim Kirk struggled between two beefy Marines, hands clenched into fists at his side as the Admiral's aide, Commander Spock, opened up the plain wooden case to verify its content.
"Mr. Kirk, I am told this is the only remaining sextant on board this ship. Needs of the service dictate that you hand over this instrument immediately for the continuing wellbeing of this vessel and its crew. You are fortunate that all I am doing is confiscating this and not having you hung from the yardarm for mutiny as you deserve. "
Kirk looked around the quarterdeck at the faces of the other officers, some sympathetic, others turned away or down in shame or anger. He could see Dr. McCoy's fierce frown and the glare he gave the upright commander could have pierced right through to the man's heart if there had been steel in it.
"It wasn't mutiny! I was pressing the fight against the Narada; we were to windward, it would have been folly to break off the engagement when we had a clear hand at victory. Narada's 104 guns would have been a prodigious prize to take back to the Crown and one less ship for the French to persecute us with! I was following Pike's orders."
"That is inconsequential; Captain Pike was disabled by a musket ball to his shoulder and unaware of the events transpiring. Clearly, Admiral Calder signaled the order to regroup at 2025 last night, the 22nd July 1805, and you should have fallen in line with the rest of the squadron. Instead, you pressed the attack and Enterprise lost two good able-bodied seamen, whilst another 16 are in the care of Dr. McCoy. At the least you are guilty of insubordination and negligence, Mr. Kirk. You will be put ashore at Portsmouth, forfeit all pay and have your name stricken from the roster of eligible officers in the Royal Navy. Guards, take him down to the brig."
"I was following Captain Pike's orders exactly!" shouted Jim. "We'd already knocked down his foremast with one of our broadsides. We were close enough to get grappling hooks over his rail. It was all but over." Jim pulled at his arms futilely.
Dr. McCoy's gruff voice interjected in defense of his friend. "Commander, most of those injuries were incurred before Captain Pike was rendered insensible by his own injury; you can't blame Mr. Kirk for those."
"Mr. Kirk, you will cease this noisome harangue. The facts speak for themselves. You were in charge when the order to fall back was signaled and you failed to obey the orders of the fleet admiral, who supersedes Captain Pike in all things fleet related. Mr. Kirk must be punished. That is all. Dr. McCoy, I suggest you leave off your argumentation unless you want similar action to be brought against you. I am willing to be lenient in this matter because Enterprise is in dire need of this sextant. It is a fair trade and you should consider yourself fortunate I am willing to consider it." Jim directed the slightest shake of his head towards Bones to hold his ire; there was no need for both of them to incur the commander's wrath and end up in the soup.
Commander Spock handed the box containing Jim's sextant to Second Lieutenant Sulu and turned back toward the rail where the sideboys waited to lower him down in the basket to his dory for the trip back to Prince of Wales. The last they saw of the commander was his cocked hat, which remained absolutely level despite the herky-jerky motion of the basket being lowered towards the water. The man's jawline could have been used as a carpenter's level, he was so upright and stiff-necked, thought Kirk.
Sulu looked at Kirk with compassion. "I'll take good care of this for you, Mr. Kirk. I know how long it has been in your family. Perhaps Captain Pike will be able to return it to you once he's recovered from his injuries. I won't let it out of my sight."
Kirk turned his head over his shoulder as he was hustled down the ladder into the hold. "Thank you, Mr. Sulu. You have my complete trust in its safety; I couldn't ask for a better caretaker." That was the last he saw of his sextant and Bones until the following week, when Enterprise pulled into dock for repairs and replenishment.
+++++++++
"Bones, you don't have to do this." Jim placed his hand on the doctor's arm to halt him as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.
"Jim, I won't need any of the prize money until my commission is satisfied. And who knows how long that will be with Napoleon rampaging through Europe and wanting to invade England? Enterprise could be deployed for five years or more. Let me at least get you set up in lodgings until you find work. We already know that Spock bastard has put it about the docks and shipyards that you are anathema; no one will hire you for even menial dock work at this rate." McCoy finished reaching into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. Jim dropped his hand reluctantly and gave a hitch to the duffel bag on his shoulder.
"I could go back to my mother and Francis. They can always use more help caring for the stud." Jim glanced away, uneasy at the thought of his stepfather 's heavy hand and barbed tongue.
Bones' step slowed and he paused his counting out of bills from the wallet. "I thought your brother, George, was helping with that? Did Francis drive him off, too?"
"George inherited a smallholding in Devonshire from our uncle Samuel about a year ago. He's decided to manage his own lands rather than someone else's. Probably not for much income; the farm lands haven't been properly managed for years and have yet to produce much, but definitely better working conditions." Jim smiled at the thought of his brother and his wife being able to call their lives their own without the disapproval and condescension of their stepfather. "I'm sure Francis would enjoy having me to order around again. I just don't know if I can hold my tongue around him after having been my own man for close to 12 years now. I've gotten in the habit of giving orders, not taking them."
"You were supposed to take orders, but you didn't; that's why we're standing here right now, you dunderhead." Bones came to a stop and gave Kirk an exasperated look. "If you can't change that, you might not want to consider throwing yourself on the generosity of your mother and Francis. Stop here; this is the apothecary I was looking for. I'm still trying to find something that will reduce the swelling in Captain Pike's right hand." McCoy returned his wallet to its pocket and opened the shop door with a jingle.
"Well, I don't know anything other than seafaring and horses, Bones. I don't have a lot of options here, except that Scotty gave me the name of a friend who does carpentry. I can handle a saw and a planer all right. But that position is up in Glasgow; I don't want to be away from Portsmouth. We'll never see each other even when you get shore leave. You'll be back afloat by the time I even find out you've gotten leave and can purchase a ticket for a coach to come down here." Jim dropped his duffel bag on the shop floor and ran a hand over the back of his neck and through his queue, giving Bones an unhappy look. "I don't know what to do without you, Bones. You've been there every day for me since I was 16." He made an aborted attempt to touch the other man's shoulder, but dropped his hand and turned away, kicking the duffel bag.
McCoy moved to peruse the stoppered jars with their powders that lined the shelves. He opened one and took a pinch out, sniffed it and touched it to his tongue. With a nod of satisfaction, he took it to the counter. "I want a half weight of this, please." Once his purchase had been measured, placed in an envelope and sealed, he turned back to Kirk.
"Jim…pup," he placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him so he could look him in the eye. "Just take the money. Get lodgings. You're more resourceful than you know or the Narada wouldn't have been running like a fox from a pack of hounds that have his scent. I have faith in you. Maybe Pike will be able to talk the Admiralty around, get your punishment rescinded."
"Pike's going to be busy overseeing the refitting; he won't have time to spend waiting on the convenience of those prattlers at the Admiralty. Besides which, you still have him consigned to bed rest. I just want to be back at sea, Bones, where I have some small chance of being part of a crew that brings Narada to bear. I want Nero to pay for sinking Kelvin along with my father. We weren't at war, when he did that. He needs to be brought to justice." Jim rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, taking a deep breath to forestall tears coming to the forefront in public.
McCoy took Jim's hand and pressed a wad of bills into it. "Take this. We'll get you lodgings close to the docks. Maybe you can find work in a hostelry. You can do this, Jim, I know you can."
Jim looked into McCoy's eyes and gave a watery smile. "You're too good to me, old man. Also, you're right. I made myself the best damn navigator and first officer of Enterprise in fewer than three years; I can do anything I set my mind to. Let's go find lodgings and a bottle of good claret for dinner. Need to send you off in style. And we've had no time for a good chaffer in forever, there being so little time since Finisterre with all the patching required for Enterprise to even make it back to port." He tucked the money into the top of his duffel bag, picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. A tip of the head towards the street outside the shop had McCoy falling in step with him as they left the apothecary's to look for accommodations.
"Blast it, Jim, you know we'll be portside for a while with repairs. I'll be able to see you nearly every day. Save the sending off until we're ready to be under sail again. You can't be too profligate with that money." McCoy threw an exasperated look at the other man.
"Bones! I'm hurt that you don't consider yourself worthy of everything I'm willing to give you. My food, my wine, my…" Kirk slapped him on the back with a lowered head and a wink.
"My purse," Bones said dryly. He took his watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Well, we've shared a lot in the nine years I've known you, what's all my worldly goods in compare? Let's go, you mooncalf, it's past six of the clock and I'm damned hungry."
+++++++++
Jim cursed as he gathered his legs under him and stood up in the alleyway. That really hadn't gone very well at all. Two days of using incredibly tiny needles compared to the larger ones used to sew the canvas sails aboard Enterprise had left his fingers feeling like pincushions, raw and sore along the tips. Stitching the tiny seams in gloves was a much more exacting task than he was familiar with and the poor lighting in the shop gave him a headache from eyestrain. Not that he minded; it was honest labor. Only he hadn't counted on having to deal with customers on a personal level. Young ladies should not be allowed to wear such low-cut and revealing gowns. How was he supposed to concentrate on his task when two such fine specimens of feminine pulchritude were presented to him in such close proximity? It was not as if he were able to touch anything other than the young lady's hands whilst he fitted her for the lambskin gloves she fancied. Perhaps, though, his fingers lingered a little too long on her wrist and he had a hard time looking at what he was doing instead of the way her breasts were so sweetly rounded above the ruching of her bodice. Hells bells, but he hadn't been that close to a female, so sweet smelling, in any number of years. And while he had the physical outlets he wanted aboard ship, there was still something about the female form that he missed occasionally. He meant nothing by it, other than sincere appreciation; he wouldn't have pressed his attentions any farther than she would allow. However, it appeared that her brother, or whoever the man mountain attending her was, disagreed with Jim's demeanor during her fitting and he'd been thrown out of the back of the shop on his backside, his coat thrown after him and, he was told, would receive no pay for the week spent toiling in the dimly lit backroom of the glovemaker's shop.
Bones would be glad to know he would be able to make fine use of the prize money he'd given him. In fact, he'd use it to go get a pint or two of ale at the pub on the corner right that instant. Perhaps that pretty bar maid would sit on his lap for a little while to help soothe his aches and pains--all of them. With that thought, he dusted off his seat, donned his jacket and with a couple bounces to shake everything back in place, practically skipped down the alley in search of something to wet his whistle and someone to bring a little joy back to his day.
+++++++++
"Blast it, Jim, what the bloody hell happened this time?" Bones's scrutiny took in the ripped shoulder of the jacket and the bruises on Jim's face.
"It's nothing, Bones. Just a misunderstanding." Jim picked at the blood under his fingernails, refusing to look at his friend.
"And who was this misunderstanding with this time? Another innkeeper whose daughter happened to be the bar maid you pulled onto your lap? Or an enraged uncle who felt you got too familiar with his niece while you were wrapping up her books?" Bones walked over to the washstand, where he dipped a cloth into the basin of water standing on it. Striding back over to the bed, he sat down next to Jim and started cleaning the dried blood off his face.
Jim slapped Bones' hands away from his face and took the cloth from him. "I'm not an infant. I can take care of myself." He finished scrubbing over his neck and under his collar. After juggling the cloth unthinkingly in his hands for a few more seconds, he threw it down on the washstand and ducked his hands into the basin, scrubbing them listlessly.
"Bones…you know I left the stud because of my stepfather, right? That he had a heavy hand and a wicked sharp tongue that ate away at my composure? I could tolerate what he did to me, but I could not condone his treatment of the horses. I would add extra oats to their daily allotment and when he was wont to beat them for imagined imperfections. I would hang on his arm so he couldn't lift the whip. I was just another stud to be schooled, and poorly at that. I just can't bear to watch anyone mistreat horses since. And you know the latest position I hired on to was with the hostler two lanes over." He stood at the washstand, his head hanging down in defeat, hands gripping its sides.
"It was like Francis all over again, wasn't it, young'un?" Bones came up behind Jim and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Did he give you any pay at all? You were there an entire week and I'm sure he didn't have you just polishing the bits and bridles all day."
Jim placed his hands over Bones's and leaned back into him. "No pay again. It's not like there's anyone I can complain to and many would feel I'd been insubordinate and undeserving of recompense. It's not fair, but it's the way it is. I have to accept that."
"At least there were no members of the gentler sex involved this time."
"Well, only inasmuch as it was the sweetest little filly that Cartwright was taking his crop to and that was just that much worse to watch. I couldn't keep my tongue still after that and wrestling the crop out of his hand was probably a bit too far beyond the pale; she is his horse after all." Jim turned in the circle of Bones's arms, looping his over the other man's shoulders and around his neck. "Let's go to bed, Bones. I can think of plenty of things to do to take my mind off this latest failure. I'll go down to the fish market tomorrow. Mayhap I can obtain a position with one of the mongers."
Bones started unbuttoning Jim's shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms. "With Admiral Calder and that cold-blooded hobgoblin Spock sailing for Spain Thursday last, perhaps some of the shipyards will be more willing to hire you on, at least short term. And Pike's still in port with Enterprise. I haven't cleared him for duty yet, although he's no longer confined to bed rest. By good fortune, the Admiralty respects him too much to give Enterprise to someone else in the meantime. I heard tell that Admiral Calder was pressing for the Admiralty to transfer Enterprise to Spock, but it will be a cold day in hell when I take ship with that emotionless bogle, by gad. No, he's to accompany Prince of Wales again. Have no fear, though, I'll give good odds that Pike's word will stand with more weight than Spock's. People respect Pike; they fear Spock."
"That's something to consider, Bones, but later. It's not something you can fix right this instant. Right now, I just want to feel a bed under me that isn't moving. Look at you, you've still got your boots on, man!" With a laugh, Jim pushed Bones down on the bed and proceeded to strip him of his clothes, starting with the aforementioned boots.
"Do you remember the aftermath of the Battle of the Nile? You made me give up my berth for that midshipman with the broken collar bone, the dispensary was so overrun with wounded. That was the first time that we shared yours. I slept better that night than I had since my brother George went off to Eton and I had the room to myself. I miss being able to do that whenever I want. I miss your hands petting me to sleep. Let me sleep this latest debacle away and we can talk about fixing it in the morning." He pulled the covers back and slid under them, pulling McCoy down into the bed with him.
+++++++++
McCoy stared at Captain Pike with a look of expectation, right eyebrow raised eye in a silent query. "Captain, I'm not sure what you needed to see me for. I've released you back to full duty despite the fact you really shouldn't be on your feet more than four hours a day. You need to replace those two midshipmen we lost at Finisterre. Rand doesn't have the meat on his bones yet to be able to help you up and down as much as you insist on even whilst here in port. I keep recommending increased rations for that young man, but he just doesn't seem to have any strength in his arms. That's a puzzle I'd like to have more time to work on." The doctor's mobile brows drew together in bafflement. "But, I digress. What purpose have you with me at this time? I was just about to leave for dinner." Bones pulled out his pocket watch and fussed with it a little, opening and closing the lid before he put it back in his pocket, a gentle hint that his time was at a premium. He hoped Jim would be waiting at his lodgings. The latest position with another of Scotty's friends--this time a cooper who provided barrels for a Scotch distillery back in Scotty's home county--seemed to be something that just might prevent Jim from landing himself in hot water: no young ladies employed by them, no young ladies as clients, and the wood was particularly uncomplaining about treatment by its shapers.
"I wanted to let you know that Admiral Lord Nelson's fleet is going to be sailing on the 15th September, doctor. We'll be joining the van on the 18th--still four days away. I thought you could use the time to ensure Mr. Kirk was settled somewhere within his means, if he has any." He held up his hand when McCoy appeared ready to deny that he had any involvement in Jim's current situation. "Still your protests, McCoy. I know you don't want it bruited about, but I am aware just how much you care for that young man and how he relies on you. It's not something that we talk about in polite circles and I trust you to be circumspect, but a connection that deep is nothing to be ashamed of. It's naught but another sign of what a grand heart you have in you. I wanted to let you know I've made arrangements for the purser to pay out another 10 percent of your prize money for you. See if you can convince young Kirk to manage his pursestrings a little better from here on out."
"Captain Pike, sir, that is most kind of you," Bones said around the lump in his throat. "It's completely understandable why Jim wanted to stay with you on Enterprise rather than take post on a fifth rater of his own, even if it did mean turning down a promotion. You take almost too much good care of us."
The captain settled back in his chair with a look of satisfaction. "It goes both way, Dr. McCoy. There are duties and obligations that go with the privilege of rank. It behooves the honourable man to remember that and act on it. You have all rewarded me well in service; it is worth every effort. Now, go find your young man, and make a few memories before we sail again."
McCoy took a couple of steps toward the cabin door, then hesitated and turned back to Pike. "Captain, if you don't mind my asking--and you've been so good to us I hate to bring an imposition on you--but is Jim ever going to get his sextant back?"
"His sextant? What's that about his sextant?" Pike looked at McCoy in puzzlement. He raised his hand and beckoned McCoy back over.
McCoy went on willingly. "Did you not know, sir? Commander Spock confiscated Jim's sextant before he confined him to the brig after Finisterre, claiming needs of the service. Mr. Sulu has had custody of it since. But I thought since Enterprise had been in port now for well more than a month that you would have found time to replace the one that went overboard when Midshipman Riley tripped Ensign Chekov. Did you forget that the ship's sextant needed to be replaced?"
Pike clenched his fist and struck the arm of his chair. "Blast that Spock, he omitted that from the after-action report. I believe he would do anything to present young Mr. Kirk in as unfavourable a light as possible. Rules and regulations are all well and good when under controlled conditions of exercises and in the planning stages, but once battle is at hand it relies on improvisation, and Kirk is a master at that. I keep telling the Admiralty that, but there is a large faction that are looking to promote Ambassador Stark into position in the House of Lords to run for prime minister. They will hear no naysaying of Spock in order to curry favour there."
The captain sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "And, yes, I'd forgotten all about that fracas with Riley and Chekov. Has Riley admitted that the Russians invented the sonnet yet, or is he still insisting it was the Irish? Don't answer that; I don't really think I want to know."
Pike looked back up at McCoy. "I will have the purser send Mr. Sulu out to see if a suitable replacement can be found before we sail Wednesday. I am sorry for this, doctor. Scuttlebutt has failed to keep me as well informed over the past six weeks than I am accustomed." He gave McCoy a rueful grin.
McCoy looked away. "I believe that may be partly my fault. I told the crew you were not to be disturbed with personal brangles and petty disturbances; your recovery necessitated calm and relaxation. It's a sign of how much they revere you that you were actually allowed such for so long. And I thank you, captain, for being so understanding about Jim's sextant. It's the last remaining possession of his father's that he has. To strip him of that is to take his very foundation away."
Pike waved a hand at McCoy, dismissing his thanks. "Think nothing of it, McCoy. That young man has been hard done by and anything I can do to redress the balance is no less than what he deserves. Now, you get; I'm sure Kirk will be waiting impatiently for you. It's well past the dinner hour."
"Jim could use to learn a little patience and delayed gratification, sir. Leaping without looking is usually what gets him in trouble, as we both well know." McCoy rolled his eyes, but smiled in fond exasperation. "I will leave you to your dinner, sir. Have a pleasant evening." With that, McCoy gave a little bow, turned and left the room.
+++++++++
Losing all interest in the apple that he had been crunching into, Jim stared at the newspaper dated the 14th September, 1805--not in disbelief, because he believed every word of it, but in a controlled rage so severe he felt his teeth were about to break right off his jaw. It appeared that Narada had once more struck against a peaceful British sailing vessel. This time it was Vulcan's Forge, the personal yacht of Ambassador Stark and his wife, the Lady Amanda. Lady Amanda had gone down with their yacht in the Channel, whilst Ambassador Stark was at a meeting with some other ambassadors at Carlton House. Jim wanted to scream in rage and the urge to find someone or something to beat his fists against in the place of the black-hearted master of Narada was nigh unendurable. Nero must be made to pay!
There had to be something he could do to help prosecute the war against Napoleon and his marauding, dishonourable fleet of criminals. He could change his name; he could shave his head like a common seaman fresh pressed from the streets of Portsmouth. No one would recognize the dapper golden-queued Kirk in a street urchin in slops and straw hat, instead of the coat heavy with gold braid and the cocked hat he normally sported aboard ship. But he'd need help getting the necessary accoutrements.
Folding the newspaper and tucking it under his arm, he turned towards the Cock and Balls, where he knew Gaille would be plying her trade in the common room of the inn. Her connections among the seedy underside of Portsmouth could be used to acquire what he needed. He ran his hand down the back of his head and the golden braid held back with a velvet ribbon that lay above his collar. He'd been growing this for so long and had worn it with pride since he made first officer, he couldn't imagine not having it for Bones to run his fingers through when he let it down in bed. Vanity, he thought ruefully, thy name is Jim Kirk. Small price to pay if it meant he could get aboard a ship sailing with Admiral Lord Nelson before the fleet was redeployed, which was going to be soon according the rumors making the rounds of the docks, shipyards and alehouses along the waterfront. Resolved, he set his chin and feet for a heading that would ultimately take him on collision course with Narada.
+++++++++
McCoy closed the pocket watch once more and slouched even deeper in the chair in Jim's lodgings. After 10 of the evening and Jim still wasn't back to his room. He vacillated over whether he should just prepare for bed or go out to look for him, but the latter activity presupposed finding Jim would leave him with his temper intact and his heart completely whole and unpierced, things that were rarely givens around Jim. It was his own damn fault for falling so completely in love with the impetuous, libidinous ass. In the nine years that he'd known Kirk, they'd been lovers for seven, since the Battle of the Nile at Aboukir Bay. In that time, McCoy had learned that Jim needed attention like an orchid needed the daily care of a trained botanist to grow in the greenhouses of the cold, northern climes. The man had such an excess of energy that once something got him worked up, he didn't stop until an end was achieved. The means could take many an outlet: fighting, riding and, his preferred means, a superb game of cocksmanship. On board ship Jim was most often taken up with his duties to keep that energy harnessed, but in those rare moments of calm it was on him to garner Jim's sole attention. With privacy so little in supply, Jim was always willing to show his gratitude whenever Bones was able to find time or space for a little personal attention. From this, he knew Jim needed him, but he didn't think that Jim loved him.
Bah. He had descended into the realm of maudlin maunderings when he should be getting a good night's rest. He had four days to make sure the dispensary aboard ship was fully restocked with all the drugs and instruments he'd need when next they sailed. Jim would turn up again, his personal bad penny to keep tripping over. As long as he showed in time for McCoy to pass the news of his departure along, he would make sure Jim was settled in for the next while. Later, he could make arrangements for more funds to be made available in case Jim managed to get canned from the current position, most probably a sure thing in his estimation.
With that thought, McCoy stripped out of his uniform, performed his nightly ablutions at the washstand and snuffed the lamp before sliding into the cold, empty bed, the plans and anxieties running through his mind making it difficult to fall into sleep.
A fumbling at the door with the sound of a body thudding into the wall of his chamber woke him from the light sleep he'd eventually fallen into. He listened for a few moments, attempting to discern if this was a cracksman attempting a burglary of a room he thought empty or a drunk Jim returning. It was with the sound of a soft voice encouraging someone unseen, presumably Jim, that spurred him into action.
"Stand right there, laddie, I cannae get the lock to turn if ye keep pawing at me like that. Haven't ye had enow 'o that yet? Great horned beast that ye be."
McCoy reached the door about the same time the lock finally clicked over and he all but yanked the door out of the hands of the young woman in an extremely low-cut gown facing him in the hallway, Jim's arms wrapped around her waist, his eyes blinking slowly. A silly grin lit up his face and when he opened his mouth to cry "Bones!" the distinctive fumes of gin billowed into McCoy's face.
"Get in here, you damn fool," McCoy growled. "You, too, whoever you are." He walked over to the night stand and struck the flint to light the lamp. After adjusting the wick, he turned and saw the young woman struggling to get a shoulder under Kirk's armpit, Jim being particularly unhelpful as he appeared to have passed out leaning against her. With a put-upon sigh, McCoy strode back and, shouldering her aside, got one of Jim's arms over his shoulder, then turned and slung him on the bed.
Once Kirk was lying on the bed, McCoy noticed the alteration to his looks. He was expecting possible bruises and maybe a black eye, if Jim had been on a spree, but what he saw caught him totally by surprise. The man lying on the bed had short, dark brown hair under his cap. It was definitely Jim: the full, pink lips and the distinctively arched eyebrows were good enough clues without even being able to see the blue eyes that shimmered somewhere between the blue of the sea and the sky where it met at the horizon, but the long golden queue was gone.
"What have you been up to, you misbegotten, pox-riddled japehead?" he muttered under his breath, not expecting Jim to answer, before he started stripping the man's clothes off. "And who are you, young lady?" he directed at the woman that brought Jim back to the lodgings.
Smoothing her dress down, she shook her wildly tumbled red curls back over her shoulders. "Och, I be Gaille. I work down 't Cock and Balls. I thought it better to accompany yon cock-o-the-walk back to his lodgings; 'twere a number o' unsavoury types watching him tip them back. Thought he would tumble right under the table and they would roll him right in front 'o me. I like Jimmy-me-lad much too well to allow that to happen."
"Well, I thank you kindly for your attentions to his wellbeing, Miss Gaille, but, do you happen to know why his hair is in such a state?" McCoy had stripped Jim of everything bar his drawers, supposing most correctly that it wasn't anything the young woman hadn't seen previously under more erotically charged circumstances. Pulling the covers up over Jim's bare chest, McCoy sat down on the edge of the bed.
"He dinna really speak o' what spurred the request, but he carried this day's newspaper with him and kept looking at it frequently. It seemed to make him quite angry. The best I could make out was that there was someone that he was going to make pay for some ill done, I ken not who or what." She turned towards the door, but before she left spoke over her shoulder, "Tell the clueless lump the clothes he charged will be ready on the morrow, after 3 o' the clock."
"What clothes?"
"A set of blue slops. He didn't know which ship, yet, so he said just a set of plain blue would do."
Putting that disturbing thought to the side, McCoy rose and followed Gaille out into the hallway. "Thank you for bringing him here. Is there anything I can do to recompense you?"
"Och, Doctor, Jim is a friend, you don't charge friends for doing what anyone would do. But, you take care of him, now. He's set to do something foolish, even if I ken not what it is. He's told me about you, so I know he's in good hands." She picked up his right hand and stroked the palm with her index and middle finger. "Very good hands," came out in a breathy croon. She let go of his hand and reached up to pat the startled look off his cheek. "He's a bit of a daft sod, doctor. Give him time to wake up to his own heart's needs. He's not stupid, just daft." With a little trill of laughter, she scurried down the hallway to the stairs and out into the street.
McCoy stood there for a mere moment longer before he turned and went back into the room. There would be no answers to the pressing questions in his mind until Jim woke up, and that wouldn't be anywhere near soon enough to give him ease of mind. Snuffing the lamp for the second time that night, he moved back over to the bed and stood there looking down at where his slumbering friend lay, until with a shake of the head he, too, slid under the covers and hoped for the peace of sleep to take him soon. Before he fell asleep, he made a note to find out what was in that day's newspaper that had upset Jim so much.
+++++++++
McCoy stared at the newspaper he'd found tucked into a pocket of Jim's coat when he'd hung it up that morning and calculated that he had a pretty good idea of what had sent Jim on the previous night's tear through the taproom at the Cock and Balls. The death of Lady Amanda at the hands Narada of was right there under the fold on yesterday's front page. How Nero and his ship kept slipping past the blockades at Brest and Cadiz was a huge subject of speculation and the public had been clamouring for someone or something to finally bring him to ground. And from what he had learned the previous night, he was fairly certain he had a damn good idea of which tomfool was up to the challenge, and it wasn't anything that would lead to his peace of mind or to Jim keeping his plague-ridden ass in one piece
He walked over to the bed and whacked Jim on the leg. "Wake up! Get your drunk arse out of bed and get dressed. We need to have a little talk before you leave for work."
Jim gave a groan and shifted under the covers only a little. "Bones, cease your caterwauling. I need sleep."
"No, you don't. You need to get up and explain to me what the devil you think you're up to with ordering a set of slops. And your hair, good Christ, you look a regular Jack Tar. And make it quick, you've less than an hour before you need to be by Master April's establishment. You can't afford to lose another position at this point in time." Bones pulled the covers back and started prodding the other man in the ribs.
Jim slapped at his hands. "Lay off. I gave notice at April's, yesterday. I've nowhere to be until Gaille says my slops are ready. And what do you mean by 'at this point in time'?"
"You did what? Jim, this is no time to be funning with me and you best well be funning! My funds are nearly gone and Enterprise is leaving with the tide on the 18th. Pike forwarded me another 10 percent of the prize money, but I received communication from that she-devil, Jocelyn. She's demanded an exorbitant sum from me, since she found out I was with funds again. You know the cent-percenters will only pay 60 percent on the draft. That leaves me with nothing to put aside for you as the very last of my funds went to purchasing new uniforms. Yes, you can laugh, the Admiralty has finally forced ship's surgeons into a uniform." McCoy sat down slowly in the chair next to the washstand and dropped his head into his hands, his thoughts running in circles calculating sums that totaled up to nothing. A feeling of desperation settled heavy onto his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed trying not to look at the disheveled figure that he had spent so much time nurturing and loving to seemingly no effect. He'd given all of himself, mentally, emotionally, physically and financially. He felt like an orange that had been squeezed to its very last pip and only a dry husk of peel was retained, useless and hollow.
Jim had sat up during this diatribe and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Slow down, you're losing me."
"No, Jim, not losing, you've lost me. I have no money to set aside for your subsistence. You've thrown away every chance you have for success with your headstrong willfulness and disregard for material gain and self-preservation. After everything I've tried to do for you--"
"None of which I ever asked you to! What does it matter to you, what I do?" Jim shouted. "I reached my majority years ago and I've quite successfully navigated ships across half the globe, commanded men in the heat of battle and brought home as much prize money as Sultan Tipoo." Standing up, he strode over to where his clothes lay folded. Shaking them out violently, he jammed first one leg into his trousers and then the other, while McCoy continued on his rant.
"And where's that money, now? Spent on grog and women, useless trifles to bribe your way under the skirts of fancy women, bets on horses, buying the entire crew uniforms made from silk nankeen and the finest lawn one could find on Savile Row? Frivolous, profligate, ruinous wastes of funds! I cannot stand by and watch you do this even one more day." He pulled his watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. "I have an appointment with Jocelyn's solicitors in three hours; I'll send one of the cabin boys by later to pick up the rest of my effects. The room is hired through the end of the month; you're free to stay here until then. I don't think," his voice seemed to stick on the words, "I want to see you, again."
Jim paused in the buttoning of his shirt and his hands slowly dropped down to his sides. "If it's about the money, I will pay you back. Mother will force Francis to fork over some blunt, if I ask. The stud is only his to manage by virtue of their marriage. I may not have it--"
Bones held up his hand to stop the flow of words tumbling out of Jim's mouth. "Stop. It's not about the money. The money, as with anything I do for you, is simply a way to show you my regard, a regard I hoped you placed some value on and might even return some day. But my regard is like any of the other mad starts you've gotten up to that are easily discarded and twice easily forgotten; it counts for nothing."
Jim grabbed McCoy by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "It does count for something, but this is something I have to do, Bones. This may be my last chance to bring Narada to justice. I must be there for the final fall; even better if I can contribute in some small way to it."
"Be where you will, but I don't want to see it." McCoy shook Kirk's hands loose and after another glance at the watch face, snapped it shut, returning it to his pocket. "Farewell, Jim. You'll land on your feet, I'm sure; you always do. You said it, you're a man full grown. It's time I left you to be that without my interference."
In two quick strides he was to the door and opening it. Before passing, he glanced over his shoulder. "Gaille says your slops will be ready by 3 of the clock, today. I promised her I'd tell you and I don't break my promises." With that, he squared his shoulders and closed the door on his friendship of nine years.
Jim stood in the patch of sunlight from the window and despite the warmth of the direct sun, rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if chilled. The regard that Bones spoke of had kept him warm like a blanket lo, these many years and he wasn't sure if his own body heat was enough to stand him through the days. Still, he was convinced that he couldn't do anything other than what he was setting his course on.
+++++++++
Captain Pike swore at the communiqué that had just arrived from the Admiralty. He was set to sail with the tide on the morrow and here he was being told unequivocally to abandon his post to wait upon the pleasure of the courts and Admiral Calder. The admiral was at least two weeks out by fast packet, meaning it would be at least one month before he was even back dockside for his trial. He threw the paper down on his desk in disgust and addressed the midshipman standing in front of him.
"Rand, get me the first officer and then Dr. McCoy. I'll see them one at a time. Have a glass waiting for the doctor while I'm closeted with Lieutenant Pilford."
"Aye-aye, sir," replied the midshipman, exiting the cabin.
A few minutes later a knock sounded on the door and after being told to enter, a lean, ginger-haired first lieutenant strode up to his desk.
"Reporting as ordered, Captain Pike."
"At ease, lieutenant. I have some news I think you will find most exhilarating. I am being transferred to the Admiralty for the time being and you are being promoted to commanding officer of Enterprise." Pike drummed his fingers restlessly on the arm of his chair. "I have every confidence in your ability to command this vessel and I wish you the best of luck with the upcoming campaign. You have the opportunity to really excel and make your mark under Admiral Lord Nelson's command. I wish you the best of luck." He stood up and, reaching across his desk, took the shocked lieutenant's hand in his to shake it firmly.
"I'll be out of the captain's cabin this evening. You may move your effects in then. I'll make an announcement to the crew at two and four bells of the first dog watch, during their evening meals; that should cover everyone. Don't look so terrified, Pilford, you wouldn't have been placed as my first officer by the Admiralty if you weren't ready for this responsibility. They must have had some idea this was going to happen when they appointed you to Enterprise."
The lieutenant dropped Pike's hand slowly and after swallowing a few times he straightened up, firmed his chin and said, "Thank you, sir, I will do my best to be a credit to you and the Admiralty. I will not waste this opportunity. You can count on me."
"Excellent. I'd like to have you with me when I make the announcements to the crew. Please make yourself available in the mess at those times. You are dismissed." Pike sat back down in his chair and waved the lieutenant away.
The lieutenant came to attention, replying to his dismissal in a solemn affirmative before turning and exiting the cabin. A beaming smile could be seen on his face as he scurried down the passageway to his cabin.
"Rand!" bellowed Pike. "Send in McCoy!"
"Aye, sir," came the reply faintly through the door.
"And send the brandy with him," he added as an afterthought
There was no reply, but the door opened to the doctor holding a crystal decanter in one hand and two heavy-bottomed snifters in the other.
"Sit, sit, McCoy. I've got news I wanted to share with you before I informed the rest of the crew. There are things I'll need you to do for me before evening mess." Pike shifted restlessly in his chair before reaching over the desk for the brandy. McCoy placed the snifters on the desk and Pike splashed a good inch-and-a-half into each glass before he proceeded to tell the other man about the Admiralty's decisions and the tasks he would require of McCoy.
+++++++++
Jim Kirk prowled through his lodgings restlessly, pacing from one side to the other with ill-disguised impatience. He was at a loss to know how to proceed next, and he was never at a loss! He was known for his ability to take the Forlorn Hope and turn it around on its head into something positive. He ran his hand over the top of his head and scrubbed it through the short, bristly hair.
And did that feel wrong, much like the past six weeks on land had felt wrong; it was all of a piece at this point. He no longer knew what it was going to take to make it feel right again. But, he was trying.
It was his misfortune, though, that despite the changes he'd made in his appearance he was still too easily recognizable as himself to the myriad denizens of the Navy docks and shipyards. He'd tried signing on to every ship left that was due to sail tomorrow with the exception of Enterprise, and he couldn't find a single one that didn't turn him away in fear of reprisal if caught harbouring somebody as notorious as he.
He had come to a rest, standing at the window with this arms braced on the sill, gazing unseeingly out the window, when someone knocked on the door. Three quick steps took him across the room and he had the door open directly.
"Bones!" Jim gaped at the other man.
"Jim. How are you?" McCoy stood there with a plain pine box in his hands, his hands clenching and unclenching on it nervously.
"Come in, come in." Jim grasped him by the arm and led him into the room, shutting the door after him. "I didn't think I'd see you again before Enterprise shipped out. I'm glad--"
McCoy cut Kirk off before he could relate just what he was glad of. "I'm here solely at Captain Pike's request. He asked me to return this to you." He held the box out toward Jim.
"Oh, I didn't expect…thank him for me, then, will you, please?" Kirk took the box from McCoy, stroking his hand over the undecorated lid reverently. "That is so like the captain to make sure this was returned to me. I owe him so much of my gratitude." He looked up just in time to see McCoy turn sharply to the side, his brows tight and his mouth drawn down like he was in pain.
"What's wrong, Bones?" he asked softly.
McCoy drew in a breath and after releasing it explosively reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper bearing a wax seal stamped with an indecipherable signet. "Pike is being relieved of command of Enterprise so he can testify at the court martial of Admiral Calder. He wanted to make sure you got your father's sextant back before you sailed and he asked me to bring it, and this letter, to you if you were still here in lodgings. And now that I've done that, I've discharged my tasks for the day. I must take my leave. I've yet to make a final stop at the apothecary shop and I need to be back to the ship in time for evening mess with the crew."
Jim set the sextant and letter down on the bed and reached out hesitantly, laying his hand on McCoy's forearm as if to hold him there. "Thank you, for everything. I know I don't say it enough, and my actions may run counter to my intentions, but I have always held you high in my regard." He would have continued on in that vein, but he saw McCoy reaching into his pocket with his other hand and knew exactly what he was doing. He smiled in understanding; going for the watch was one of Bones' tells that he was either nervous or very nervous with a possibility of profanity soon to be vociferated. He decided to forestall that possibility.
"I'm sorry. You need to leave, don't you? I won't keep you, except for this." He dropped his hand from McCoy's arm, but moved in just that little bit closer, looked directly into McCoy's eyes, leaned forward just a little, closed his eyes and brushed his lips against the other's briefly. Without waiting to see if Bones responded to him, he stepped back and gave him a brief quirk of the lips, not even a smile, but something soft and yearning. "Be safe, old man."
McCoy looked at him for a moment longer before a choked "You, too," was forced from his throat. He turned and was out the door in two steps, the door clicking shut behind him.
Jim dropped heavily onto the bed, staring off at nothing at all, until the discomfort of the edge of the box that was digging into his thigh finally woke him from his formless musings. After looking at it curiously for a few moments, he picked up the letter lying on top of it and broke the seal to read what Captain Pike had to say. While he had some idea of what it said from Bones' earlier revelation, his expression turned to one of extreme surprise after scanning the first couple of lines. By the time he was finished reading the missive he had a grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear.
Part 2
Author: sail_aweigh
Rating: R
Warnings: prostitution, drinking and hanky-panky, Age of Sail AU
Word count: ~17,300
Summary: Jim will never regret taking the advice of his hero, Admiral Lord Nelson.
A/N: This (not so little) fic is a gift for the Kirk/McCoy advent community, space_wrapped. It would not have been completed, or turned out even more delightful than I hoped, without the help and encouragement of my lovely beta, lindmere. Thank you so much, hon, you rock my world.
Apothecary by scatter_muse
"Give it back!"
First Lieutenant Jim Kirk struggled between two beefy Marines, hands clenched into fists at his side as the Admiral's aide, Commander Spock, opened up the plain wooden case to verify its content.
"Mr. Kirk, I am told this is the only remaining sextant on board this ship. Needs of the service dictate that you hand over this instrument immediately for the continuing wellbeing of this vessel and its crew. You are fortunate that all I am doing is confiscating this and not having you hung from the yardarm for mutiny as you deserve. "
Kirk looked around the quarterdeck at the faces of the other officers, some sympathetic, others turned away or down in shame or anger. He could see Dr. McCoy's fierce frown and the glare he gave the upright commander could have pierced right through to the man's heart if there had been steel in it.
"It wasn't mutiny! I was pressing the fight against the Narada; we were to windward, it would have been folly to break off the engagement when we had a clear hand at victory. Narada's 104 guns would have been a prodigious prize to take back to the Crown and one less ship for the French to persecute us with! I was following Pike's orders."
"That is inconsequential; Captain Pike was disabled by a musket ball to his shoulder and unaware of the events transpiring. Clearly, Admiral Calder signaled the order to regroup at 2025 last night, the 22nd July 1805, and you should have fallen in line with the rest of the squadron. Instead, you pressed the attack and Enterprise lost two good able-bodied seamen, whilst another 16 are in the care of Dr. McCoy. At the least you are guilty of insubordination and negligence, Mr. Kirk. You will be put ashore at Portsmouth, forfeit all pay and have your name stricken from the roster of eligible officers in the Royal Navy. Guards, take him down to the brig."
"I was following Captain Pike's orders exactly!" shouted Jim. "We'd already knocked down his foremast with one of our broadsides. We were close enough to get grappling hooks over his rail. It was all but over." Jim pulled at his arms futilely.
Dr. McCoy's gruff voice interjected in defense of his friend. "Commander, most of those injuries were incurred before Captain Pike was rendered insensible by his own injury; you can't blame Mr. Kirk for those."
"Mr. Kirk, you will cease this noisome harangue. The facts speak for themselves. You were in charge when the order to fall back was signaled and you failed to obey the orders of the fleet admiral, who supersedes Captain Pike in all things fleet related. Mr. Kirk must be punished. That is all. Dr. McCoy, I suggest you leave off your argumentation unless you want similar action to be brought against you. I am willing to be lenient in this matter because Enterprise is in dire need of this sextant. It is a fair trade and you should consider yourself fortunate I am willing to consider it." Jim directed the slightest shake of his head towards Bones to hold his ire; there was no need for both of them to incur the commander's wrath and end up in the soup.
Commander Spock handed the box containing Jim's sextant to Second Lieutenant Sulu and turned back toward the rail where the sideboys waited to lower him down in the basket to his dory for the trip back to Prince of Wales. The last they saw of the commander was his cocked hat, which remained absolutely level despite the herky-jerky motion of the basket being lowered towards the water. The man's jawline could have been used as a carpenter's level, he was so upright and stiff-necked, thought Kirk.
Sulu looked at Kirk with compassion. "I'll take good care of this for you, Mr. Kirk. I know how long it has been in your family. Perhaps Captain Pike will be able to return it to you once he's recovered from his injuries. I won't let it out of my sight."
Kirk turned his head over his shoulder as he was hustled down the ladder into the hold. "Thank you, Mr. Sulu. You have my complete trust in its safety; I couldn't ask for a better caretaker." That was the last he saw of his sextant and Bones until the following week, when Enterprise pulled into dock for repairs and replenishment.
+++++++++
"Bones, you don't have to do this." Jim placed his hand on the doctor's arm to halt him as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.
"Jim, I won't need any of the prize money until my commission is satisfied. And who knows how long that will be with Napoleon rampaging through Europe and wanting to invade England? Enterprise could be deployed for five years or more. Let me at least get you set up in lodgings until you find work. We already know that Spock bastard has put it about the docks and shipyards that you are anathema; no one will hire you for even menial dock work at this rate." McCoy finished reaching into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. Jim dropped his hand reluctantly and gave a hitch to the duffel bag on his shoulder.
"I could go back to my mother and Francis. They can always use more help caring for the stud." Jim glanced away, uneasy at the thought of his stepfather 's heavy hand and barbed tongue.
Bones' step slowed and he paused his counting out of bills from the wallet. "I thought your brother, George, was helping with that? Did Francis drive him off, too?"
"George inherited a smallholding in Devonshire from our uncle Samuel about a year ago. He's decided to manage his own lands rather than someone else's. Probably not for much income; the farm lands haven't been properly managed for years and have yet to produce much, but definitely better working conditions." Jim smiled at the thought of his brother and his wife being able to call their lives their own without the disapproval and condescension of their stepfather. "I'm sure Francis would enjoy having me to order around again. I just don't know if I can hold my tongue around him after having been my own man for close to 12 years now. I've gotten in the habit of giving orders, not taking them."
"You were supposed to take orders, but you didn't; that's why we're standing here right now, you dunderhead." Bones came to a stop and gave Kirk an exasperated look. "If you can't change that, you might not want to consider throwing yourself on the generosity of your mother and Francis. Stop here; this is the apothecary I was looking for. I'm still trying to find something that will reduce the swelling in Captain Pike's right hand." McCoy returned his wallet to its pocket and opened the shop door with a jingle.
"Well, I don't know anything other than seafaring and horses, Bones. I don't have a lot of options here, except that Scotty gave me the name of a friend who does carpentry. I can handle a saw and a planer all right. But that position is up in Glasgow; I don't want to be away from Portsmouth. We'll never see each other even when you get shore leave. You'll be back afloat by the time I even find out you've gotten leave and can purchase a ticket for a coach to come down here." Jim dropped his duffel bag on the shop floor and ran a hand over the back of his neck and through his queue, giving Bones an unhappy look. "I don't know what to do without you, Bones. You've been there every day for me since I was 16." He made an aborted attempt to touch the other man's shoulder, but dropped his hand and turned away, kicking the duffel bag.
McCoy moved to peruse the stoppered jars with their powders that lined the shelves. He opened one and took a pinch out, sniffed it and touched it to his tongue. With a nod of satisfaction, he took it to the counter. "I want a half weight of this, please." Once his purchase had been measured, placed in an envelope and sealed, he turned back to Kirk.
"Jim…pup," he placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him so he could look him in the eye. "Just take the money. Get lodgings. You're more resourceful than you know or the Narada wouldn't have been running like a fox from a pack of hounds that have his scent. I have faith in you. Maybe Pike will be able to talk the Admiralty around, get your punishment rescinded."
"Pike's going to be busy overseeing the refitting; he won't have time to spend waiting on the convenience of those prattlers at the Admiralty. Besides which, you still have him consigned to bed rest. I just want to be back at sea, Bones, where I have some small chance of being part of a crew that brings Narada to bear. I want Nero to pay for sinking Kelvin along with my father. We weren't at war, when he did that. He needs to be brought to justice." Jim rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, taking a deep breath to forestall tears coming to the forefront in public.
McCoy took Jim's hand and pressed a wad of bills into it. "Take this. We'll get you lodgings close to the docks. Maybe you can find work in a hostelry. You can do this, Jim, I know you can."
Jim looked into McCoy's eyes and gave a watery smile. "You're too good to me, old man. Also, you're right. I made myself the best damn navigator and first officer of Enterprise in fewer than three years; I can do anything I set my mind to. Let's go find lodgings and a bottle of good claret for dinner. Need to send you off in style. And we've had no time for a good chaffer in forever, there being so little time since Finisterre with all the patching required for Enterprise to even make it back to port." He tucked the money into the top of his duffel bag, picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. A tip of the head towards the street outside the shop had McCoy falling in step with him as they left the apothecary's to look for accommodations.
"Blast it, Jim, you know we'll be portside for a while with repairs. I'll be able to see you nearly every day. Save the sending off until we're ready to be under sail again. You can't be too profligate with that money." McCoy threw an exasperated look at the other man.
"Bones! I'm hurt that you don't consider yourself worthy of everything I'm willing to give you. My food, my wine, my…" Kirk slapped him on the back with a lowered head and a wink.
"My purse," Bones said dryly. He took his watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Well, we've shared a lot in the nine years I've known you, what's all my worldly goods in compare? Let's go, you mooncalf, it's past six of the clock and I'm damned hungry."
+++++++++
Jim cursed as he gathered his legs under him and stood up in the alleyway. That really hadn't gone very well at all. Two days of using incredibly tiny needles compared to the larger ones used to sew the canvas sails aboard Enterprise had left his fingers feeling like pincushions, raw and sore along the tips. Stitching the tiny seams in gloves was a much more exacting task than he was familiar with and the poor lighting in the shop gave him a headache from eyestrain. Not that he minded; it was honest labor. Only he hadn't counted on having to deal with customers on a personal level. Young ladies should not be allowed to wear such low-cut and revealing gowns. How was he supposed to concentrate on his task when two such fine specimens of feminine pulchritude were presented to him in such close proximity? It was not as if he were able to touch anything other than the young lady's hands whilst he fitted her for the lambskin gloves she fancied. Perhaps, though, his fingers lingered a little too long on her wrist and he had a hard time looking at what he was doing instead of the way her breasts were so sweetly rounded above the ruching of her bodice. Hells bells, but he hadn't been that close to a female, so sweet smelling, in any number of years. And while he had the physical outlets he wanted aboard ship, there was still something about the female form that he missed occasionally. He meant nothing by it, other than sincere appreciation; he wouldn't have pressed his attentions any farther than she would allow. However, it appeared that her brother, or whoever the man mountain attending her was, disagreed with Jim's demeanor during her fitting and he'd been thrown out of the back of the shop on his backside, his coat thrown after him and, he was told, would receive no pay for the week spent toiling in the dimly lit backroom of the glovemaker's shop.
Bones would be glad to know he would be able to make fine use of the prize money he'd given him. In fact, he'd use it to go get a pint or two of ale at the pub on the corner right that instant. Perhaps that pretty bar maid would sit on his lap for a little while to help soothe his aches and pains--all of them. With that thought, he dusted off his seat, donned his jacket and with a couple bounces to shake everything back in place, practically skipped down the alley in search of something to wet his whistle and someone to bring a little joy back to his day.
+++++++++
"Blast it, Jim, what the bloody hell happened this time?" Bones's scrutiny took in the ripped shoulder of the jacket and the bruises on Jim's face.
"It's nothing, Bones. Just a misunderstanding." Jim picked at the blood under his fingernails, refusing to look at his friend.
"And who was this misunderstanding with this time? Another innkeeper whose daughter happened to be the bar maid you pulled onto your lap? Or an enraged uncle who felt you got too familiar with his niece while you were wrapping up her books?" Bones walked over to the washstand, where he dipped a cloth into the basin of water standing on it. Striding back over to the bed, he sat down next to Jim and started cleaning the dried blood off his face.
Jim slapped Bones' hands away from his face and took the cloth from him. "I'm not an infant. I can take care of myself." He finished scrubbing over his neck and under his collar. After juggling the cloth unthinkingly in his hands for a few more seconds, he threw it down on the washstand and ducked his hands into the basin, scrubbing them listlessly.
"Bones…you know I left the stud because of my stepfather, right? That he had a heavy hand and a wicked sharp tongue that ate away at my composure? I could tolerate what he did to me, but I could not condone his treatment of the horses. I would add extra oats to their daily allotment and when he was wont to beat them for imagined imperfections. I would hang on his arm so he couldn't lift the whip. I was just another stud to be schooled, and poorly at that. I just can't bear to watch anyone mistreat horses since. And you know the latest position I hired on to was with the hostler two lanes over." He stood at the washstand, his head hanging down in defeat, hands gripping its sides.
"It was like Francis all over again, wasn't it, young'un?" Bones came up behind Jim and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Did he give you any pay at all? You were there an entire week and I'm sure he didn't have you just polishing the bits and bridles all day."
Jim placed his hands over Bones's and leaned back into him. "No pay again. It's not like there's anyone I can complain to and many would feel I'd been insubordinate and undeserving of recompense. It's not fair, but it's the way it is. I have to accept that."
"At least there were no members of the gentler sex involved this time."
"Well, only inasmuch as it was the sweetest little filly that Cartwright was taking his crop to and that was just that much worse to watch. I couldn't keep my tongue still after that and wrestling the crop out of his hand was probably a bit too far beyond the pale; she is his horse after all." Jim turned in the circle of Bones's arms, looping his over the other man's shoulders and around his neck. "Let's go to bed, Bones. I can think of plenty of things to do to take my mind off this latest failure. I'll go down to the fish market tomorrow. Mayhap I can obtain a position with one of the mongers."
Bones started unbuttoning Jim's shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms. "With Admiral Calder and that cold-blooded hobgoblin Spock sailing for Spain Thursday last, perhaps some of the shipyards will be more willing to hire you on, at least short term. And Pike's still in port with Enterprise. I haven't cleared him for duty yet, although he's no longer confined to bed rest. By good fortune, the Admiralty respects him too much to give Enterprise to someone else in the meantime. I heard tell that Admiral Calder was pressing for the Admiralty to transfer Enterprise to Spock, but it will be a cold day in hell when I take ship with that emotionless bogle, by gad. No, he's to accompany Prince of Wales again. Have no fear, though, I'll give good odds that Pike's word will stand with more weight than Spock's. People respect Pike; they fear Spock."
"That's something to consider, Bones, but later. It's not something you can fix right this instant. Right now, I just want to feel a bed under me that isn't moving. Look at you, you've still got your boots on, man!" With a laugh, Jim pushed Bones down on the bed and proceeded to strip him of his clothes, starting with the aforementioned boots.
"Do you remember the aftermath of the Battle of the Nile? You made me give up my berth for that midshipman with the broken collar bone, the dispensary was so overrun with wounded. That was the first time that we shared yours. I slept better that night than I had since my brother George went off to Eton and I had the room to myself. I miss being able to do that whenever I want. I miss your hands petting me to sleep. Let me sleep this latest debacle away and we can talk about fixing it in the morning." He pulled the covers back and slid under them, pulling McCoy down into the bed with him.
+++++++++
McCoy stared at Captain Pike with a look of expectation, right eyebrow raised eye in a silent query. "Captain, I'm not sure what you needed to see me for. I've released you back to full duty despite the fact you really shouldn't be on your feet more than four hours a day. You need to replace those two midshipmen we lost at Finisterre. Rand doesn't have the meat on his bones yet to be able to help you up and down as much as you insist on even whilst here in port. I keep recommending increased rations for that young man, but he just doesn't seem to have any strength in his arms. That's a puzzle I'd like to have more time to work on." The doctor's mobile brows drew together in bafflement. "But, I digress. What purpose have you with me at this time? I was just about to leave for dinner." Bones pulled out his pocket watch and fussed with it a little, opening and closing the lid before he put it back in his pocket, a gentle hint that his time was at a premium. He hoped Jim would be waiting at his lodgings. The latest position with another of Scotty's friends--this time a cooper who provided barrels for a Scotch distillery back in Scotty's home county--seemed to be something that just might prevent Jim from landing himself in hot water: no young ladies employed by them, no young ladies as clients, and the wood was particularly uncomplaining about treatment by its shapers.
"I wanted to let you know that Admiral Lord Nelson's fleet is going to be sailing on the 15th September, doctor. We'll be joining the van on the 18th--still four days away. I thought you could use the time to ensure Mr. Kirk was settled somewhere within his means, if he has any." He held up his hand when McCoy appeared ready to deny that he had any involvement in Jim's current situation. "Still your protests, McCoy. I know you don't want it bruited about, but I am aware just how much you care for that young man and how he relies on you. It's not something that we talk about in polite circles and I trust you to be circumspect, but a connection that deep is nothing to be ashamed of. It's naught but another sign of what a grand heart you have in you. I wanted to let you know I've made arrangements for the purser to pay out another 10 percent of your prize money for you. See if you can convince young Kirk to manage his pursestrings a little better from here on out."
"Captain Pike, sir, that is most kind of you," Bones said around the lump in his throat. "It's completely understandable why Jim wanted to stay with you on Enterprise rather than take post on a fifth rater of his own, even if it did mean turning down a promotion. You take almost too much good care of us."
The captain settled back in his chair with a look of satisfaction. "It goes both way, Dr. McCoy. There are duties and obligations that go with the privilege of rank. It behooves the honourable man to remember that and act on it. You have all rewarded me well in service; it is worth every effort. Now, go find your young man, and make a few memories before we sail again."
McCoy took a couple of steps toward the cabin door, then hesitated and turned back to Pike. "Captain, if you don't mind my asking--and you've been so good to us I hate to bring an imposition on you--but is Jim ever going to get his sextant back?"
"His sextant? What's that about his sextant?" Pike looked at McCoy in puzzlement. He raised his hand and beckoned McCoy back over.
McCoy went on willingly. "Did you not know, sir? Commander Spock confiscated Jim's sextant before he confined him to the brig after Finisterre, claiming needs of the service. Mr. Sulu has had custody of it since. But I thought since Enterprise had been in port now for well more than a month that you would have found time to replace the one that went overboard when Midshipman Riley tripped Ensign Chekov. Did you forget that the ship's sextant needed to be replaced?"
Pike clenched his fist and struck the arm of his chair. "Blast that Spock, he omitted that from the after-action report. I believe he would do anything to present young Mr. Kirk in as unfavourable a light as possible. Rules and regulations are all well and good when under controlled conditions of exercises and in the planning stages, but once battle is at hand it relies on improvisation, and Kirk is a master at that. I keep telling the Admiralty that, but there is a large faction that are looking to promote Ambassador Stark into position in the House of Lords to run for prime minister. They will hear no naysaying of Spock in order to curry favour there."
The captain sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "And, yes, I'd forgotten all about that fracas with Riley and Chekov. Has Riley admitted that the Russians invented the sonnet yet, or is he still insisting it was the Irish? Don't answer that; I don't really think I want to know."
Pike looked back up at McCoy. "I will have the purser send Mr. Sulu out to see if a suitable replacement can be found before we sail Wednesday. I am sorry for this, doctor. Scuttlebutt has failed to keep me as well informed over the past six weeks than I am accustomed." He gave McCoy a rueful grin.
McCoy looked away. "I believe that may be partly my fault. I told the crew you were not to be disturbed with personal brangles and petty disturbances; your recovery necessitated calm and relaxation. It's a sign of how much they revere you that you were actually allowed such for so long. And I thank you, captain, for being so understanding about Jim's sextant. It's the last remaining possession of his father's that he has. To strip him of that is to take his very foundation away."
Pike waved a hand at McCoy, dismissing his thanks. "Think nothing of it, McCoy. That young man has been hard done by and anything I can do to redress the balance is no less than what he deserves. Now, you get; I'm sure Kirk will be waiting impatiently for you. It's well past the dinner hour."
"Jim could use to learn a little patience and delayed gratification, sir. Leaping without looking is usually what gets him in trouble, as we both well know." McCoy rolled his eyes, but smiled in fond exasperation. "I will leave you to your dinner, sir. Have a pleasant evening." With that, McCoy gave a little bow, turned and left the room.
+++++++++
Losing all interest in the apple that he had been crunching into, Jim stared at the newspaper dated the 14th September, 1805--not in disbelief, because he believed every word of it, but in a controlled rage so severe he felt his teeth were about to break right off his jaw. It appeared that Narada had once more struck against a peaceful British sailing vessel. This time it was Vulcan's Forge, the personal yacht of Ambassador Stark and his wife, the Lady Amanda. Lady Amanda had gone down with their yacht in the Channel, whilst Ambassador Stark was at a meeting with some other ambassadors at Carlton House. Jim wanted to scream in rage and the urge to find someone or something to beat his fists against in the place of the black-hearted master of Narada was nigh unendurable. Nero must be made to pay!
There had to be something he could do to help prosecute the war against Napoleon and his marauding, dishonourable fleet of criminals. He could change his name; he could shave his head like a common seaman fresh pressed from the streets of Portsmouth. No one would recognize the dapper golden-queued Kirk in a street urchin in slops and straw hat, instead of the coat heavy with gold braid and the cocked hat he normally sported aboard ship. But he'd need help getting the necessary accoutrements.
Folding the newspaper and tucking it under his arm, he turned towards the Cock and Balls, where he knew Gaille would be plying her trade in the common room of the inn. Her connections among the seedy underside of Portsmouth could be used to acquire what he needed. He ran his hand down the back of his head and the golden braid held back with a velvet ribbon that lay above his collar. He'd been growing this for so long and had worn it with pride since he made first officer, he couldn't imagine not having it for Bones to run his fingers through when he let it down in bed. Vanity, he thought ruefully, thy name is Jim Kirk. Small price to pay if it meant he could get aboard a ship sailing with Admiral Lord Nelson before the fleet was redeployed, which was going to be soon according the rumors making the rounds of the docks, shipyards and alehouses along the waterfront. Resolved, he set his chin and feet for a heading that would ultimately take him on collision course with Narada.
+++++++++
McCoy closed the pocket watch once more and slouched even deeper in the chair in Jim's lodgings. After 10 of the evening and Jim still wasn't back to his room. He vacillated over whether he should just prepare for bed or go out to look for him, but the latter activity presupposed finding Jim would leave him with his temper intact and his heart completely whole and unpierced, things that were rarely givens around Jim. It was his own damn fault for falling so completely in love with the impetuous, libidinous ass. In the nine years that he'd known Kirk, they'd been lovers for seven, since the Battle of the Nile at Aboukir Bay. In that time, McCoy had learned that Jim needed attention like an orchid needed the daily care of a trained botanist to grow in the greenhouses of the cold, northern climes. The man had such an excess of energy that once something got him worked up, he didn't stop until an end was achieved. The means could take many an outlet: fighting, riding and, his preferred means, a superb game of cocksmanship. On board ship Jim was most often taken up with his duties to keep that energy harnessed, but in those rare moments of calm it was on him to garner Jim's sole attention. With privacy so little in supply, Jim was always willing to show his gratitude whenever Bones was able to find time or space for a little personal attention. From this, he knew Jim needed him, but he didn't think that Jim loved him.
Bah. He had descended into the realm of maudlin maunderings when he should be getting a good night's rest. He had four days to make sure the dispensary aboard ship was fully restocked with all the drugs and instruments he'd need when next they sailed. Jim would turn up again, his personal bad penny to keep tripping over. As long as he showed in time for McCoy to pass the news of his departure along, he would make sure Jim was settled in for the next while. Later, he could make arrangements for more funds to be made available in case Jim managed to get canned from the current position, most probably a sure thing in his estimation.
With that thought, McCoy stripped out of his uniform, performed his nightly ablutions at the washstand and snuffed the lamp before sliding into the cold, empty bed, the plans and anxieties running through his mind making it difficult to fall into sleep.
A fumbling at the door with the sound of a body thudding into the wall of his chamber woke him from the light sleep he'd eventually fallen into. He listened for a few moments, attempting to discern if this was a cracksman attempting a burglary of a room he thought empty or a drunk Jim returning. It was with the sound of a soft voice encouraging someone unseen, presumably Jim, that spurred him into action.
"Stand right there, laddie, I cannae get the lock to turn if ye keep pawing at me like that. Haven't ye had enow 'o that yet? Great horned beast that ye be."
McCoy reached the door about the same time the lock finally clicked over and he all but yanked the door out of the hands of the young woman in an extremely low-cut gown facing him in the hallway, Jim's arms wrapped around her waist, his eyes blinking slowly. A silly grin lit up his face and when he opened his mouth to cry "Bones!" the distinctive fumes of gin billowed into McCoy's face.
"Get in here, you damn fool," McCoy growled. "You, too, whoever you are." He walked over to the night stand and struck the flint to light the lamp. After adjusting the wick, he turned and saw the young woman struggling to get a shoulder under Kirk's armpit, Jim being particularly unhelpful as he appeared to have passed out leaning against her. With a put-upon sigh, McCoy strode back and, shouldering her aside, got one of Jim's arms over his shoulder, then turned and slung him on the bed.
Once Kirk was lying on the bed, McCoy noticed the alteration to his looks. He was expecting possible bruises and maybe a black eye, if Jim had been on a spree, but what he saw caught him totally by surprise. The man lying on the bed had short, dark brown hair under his cap. It was definitely Jim: the full, pink lips and the distinctively arched eyebrows were good enough clues without even being able to see the blue eyes that shimmered somewhere between the blue of the sea and the sky where it met at the horizon, but the long golden queue was gone.
"What have you been up to, you misbegotten, pox-riddled japehead?" he muttered under his breath, not expecting Jim to answer, before he started stripping the man's clothes off. "And who are you, young lady?" he directed at the woman that brought Jim back to the lodgings.
Smoothing her dress down, she shook her wildly tumbled red curls back over her shoulders. "Och, I be Gaille. I work down 't Cock and Balls. I thought it better to accompany yon cock-o-the-walk back to his lodgings; 'twere a number o' unsavoury types watching him tip them back. Thought he would tumble right under the table and they would roll him right in front 'o me. I like Jimmy-me-lad much too well to allow that to happen."
"Well, I thank you kindly for your attentions to his wellbeing, Miss Gaille, but, do you happen to know why his hair is in such a state?" McCoy had stripped Jim of everything bar his drawers, supposing most correctly that it wasn't anything the young woman hadn't seen previously under more erotically charged circumstances. Pulling the covers up over Jim's bare chest, McCoy sat down on the edge of the bed.
"He dinna really speak o' what spurred the request, but he carried this day's newspaper with him and kept looking at it frequently. It seemed to make him quite angry. The best I could make out was that there was someone that he was going to make pay for some ill done, I ken not who or what." She turned towards the door, but before she left spoke over her shoulder, "Tell the clueless lump the clothes he charged will be ready on the morrow, after 3 o' the clock."
"What clothes?"
"A set of blue slops. He didn't know which ship, yet, so he said just a set of plain blue would do."
Putting that disturbing thought to the side, McCoy rose and followed Gaille out into the hallway. "Thank you for bringing him here. Is there anything I can do to recompense you?"
"Och, Doctor, Jim is a friend, you don't charge friends for doing what anyone would do. But, you take care of him, now. He's set to do something foolish, even if I ken not what it is. He's told me about you, so I know he's in good hands." She picked up his right hand and stroked the palm with her index and middle finger. "Very good hands," came out in a breathy croon. She let go of his hand and reached up to pat the startled look off his cheek. "He's a bit of a daft sod, doctor. Give him time to wake up to his own heart's needs. He's not stupid, just daft." With a little trill of laughter, she scurried down the hallway to the stairs and out into the street.
McCoy stood there for a mere moment longer before he turned and went back into the room. There would be no answers to the pressing questions in his mind until Jim woke up, and that wouldn't be anywhere near soon enough to give him ease of mind. Snuffing the lamp for the second time that night, he moved back over to the bed and stood there looking down at where his slumbering friend lay, until with a shake of the head he, too, slid under the covers and hoped for the peace of sleep to take him soon. Before he fell asleep, he made a note to find out what was in that day's newspaper that had upset Jim so much.
+++++++++
McCoy stared at the newspaper he'd found tucked into a pocket of Jim's coat when he'd hung it up that morning and calculated that he had a pretty good idea of what had sent Jim on the previous night's tear through the taproom at the Cock and Balls. The death of Lady Amanda at the hands Narada of was right there under the fold on yesterday's front page. How Nero and his ship kept slipping past the blockades at Brest and Cadiz was a huge subject of speculation and the public had been clamouring for someone or something to finally bring him to ground. And from what he had learned the previous night, he was fairly certain he had a damn good idea of which tomfool was up to the challenge, and it wasn't anything that would lead to his peace of mind or to Jim keeping his plague-ridden ass in one piece
He walked over to the bed and whacked Jim on the leg. "Wake up! Get your drunk arse out of bed and get dressed. We need to have a little talk before you leave for work."
Jim gave a groan and shifted under the covers only a little. "Bones, cease your caterwauling. I need sleep."
"No, you don't. You need to get up and explain to me what the devil you think you're up to with ordering a set of slops. And your hair, good Christ, you look a regular Jack Tar. And make it quick, you've less than an hour before you need to be by Master April's establishment. You can't afford to lose another position at this point in time." Bones pulled the covers back and started prodding the other man in the ribs.
Jim slapped at his hands. "Lay off. I gave notice at April's, yesterday. I've nowhere to be until Gaille says my slops are ready. And what do you mean by 'at this point in time'?"
"You did what? Jim, this is no time to be funning with me and you best well be funning! My funds are nearly gone and Enterprise is leaving with the tide on the 18th. Pike forwarded me another 10 percent of the prize money, but I received communication from that she-devil, Jocelyn. She's demanded an exorbitant sum from me, since she found out I was with funds again. You know the cent-percenters will only pay 60 percent on the draft. That leaves me with nothing to put aside for you as the very last of my funds went to purchasing new uniforms. Yes, you can laugh, the Admiralty has finally forced ship's surgeons into a uniform." McCoy sat down slowly in the chair next to the washstand and dropped his head into his hands, his thoughts running in circles calculating sums that totaled up to nothing. A feeling of desperation settled heavy onto his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed trying not to look at the disheveled figure that he had spent so much time nurturing and loving to seemingly no effect. He'd given all of himself, mentally, emotionally, physically and financially. He felt like an orange that had been squeezed to its very last pip and only a dry husk of peel was retained, useless and hollow.
Jim had sat up during this diatribe and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Slow down, you're losing me."
"No, Jim, not losing, you've lost me. I have no money to set aside for your subsistence. You've thrown away every chance you have for success with your headstrong willfulness and disregard for material gain and self-preservation. After everything I've tried to do for you--"
"None of which I ever asked you to! What does it matter to you, what I do?" Jim shouted. "I reached my majority years ago and I've quite successfully navigated ships across half the globe, commanded men in the heat of battle and brought home as much prize money as Sultan Tipoo." Standing up, he strode over to where his clothes lay folded. Shaking them out violently, he jammed first one leg into his trousers and then the other, while McCoy continued on his rant.
"And where's that money, now? Spent on grog and women, useless trifles to bribe your way under the skirts of fancy women, bets on horses, buying the entire crew uniforms made from silk nankeen and the finest lawn one could find on Savile Row? Frivolous, profligate, ruinous wastes of funds! I cannot stand by and watch you do this even one more day." He pulled his watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. "I have an appointment with Jocelyn's solicitors in three hours; I'll send one of the cabin boys by later to pick up the rest of my effects. The room is hired through the end of the month; you're free to stay here until then. I don't think," his voice seemed to stick on the words, "I want to see you, again."
Jim paused in the buttoning of his shirt and his hands slowly dropped down to his sides. "If it's about the money, I will pay you back. Mother will force Francis to fork over some blunt, if I ask. The stud is only his to manage by virtue of their marriage. I may not have it--"
Bones held up his hand to stop the flow of words tumbling out of Jim's mouth. "Stop. It's not about the money. The money, as with anything I do for you, is simply a way to show you my regard, a regard I hoped you placed some value on and might even return some day. But my regard is like any of the other mad starts you've gotten up to that are easily discarded and twice easily forgotten; it counts for nothing."
Jim grabbed McCoy by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "It does count for something, but this is something I have to do, Bones. This may be my last chance to bring Narada to justice. I must be there for the final fall; even better if I can contribute in some small way to it."
"Be where you will, but I don't want to see it." McCoy shook Kirk's hands loose and after another glance at the watch face, snapped it shut, returning it to his pocket. "Farewell, Jim. You'll land on your feet, I'm sure; you always do. You said it, you're a man full grown. It's time I left you to be that without my interference."
In two quick strides he was to the door and opening it. Before passing, he glanced over his shoulder. "Gaille says your slops will be ready by 3 of the clock, today. I promised her I'd tell you and I don't break my promises." With that, he squared his shoulders and closed the door on his friendship of nine years.
Jim stood in the patch of sunlight from the window and despite the warmth of the direct sun, rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if chilled. The regard that Bones spoke of had kept him warm like a blanket lo, these many years and he wasn't sure if his own body heat was enough to stand him through the days. Still, he was convinced that he couldn't do anything other than what he was setting his course on.
+++++++++
Captain Pike swore at the communiqué that had just arrived from the Admiralty. He was set to sail with the tide on the morrow and here he was being told unequivocally to abandon his post to wait upon the pleasure of the courts and Admiral Calder. The admiral was at least two weeks out by fast packet, meaning it would be at least one month before he was even back dockside for his trial. He threw the paper down on his desk in disgust and addressed the midshipman standing in front of him.
"Rand, get me the first officer and then Dr. McCoy. I'll see them one at a time. Have a glass waiting for the doctor while I'm closeted with Lieutenant Pilford."
"Aye-aye, sir," replied the midshipman, exiting the cabin.
A few minutes later a knock sounded on the door and after being told to enter, a lean, ginger-haired first lieutenant strode up to his desk.
"Reporting as ordered, Captain Pike."
"At ease, lieutenant. I have some news I think you will find most exhilarating. I am being transferred to the Admiralty for the time being and you are being promoted to commanding officer of Enterprise." Pike drummed his fingers restlessly on the arm of his chair. "I have every confidence in your ability to command this vessel and I wish you the best of luck with the upcoming campaign. You have the opportunity to really excel and make your mark under Admiral Lord Nelson's command. I wish you the best of luck." He stood up and, reaching across his desk, took the shocked lieutenant's hand in his to shake it firmly.
"I'll be out of the captain's cabin this evening. You may move your effects in then. I'll make an announcement to the crew at two and four bells of the first dog watch, during their evening meals; that should cover everyone. Don't look so terrified, Pilford, you wouldn't have been placed as my first officer by the Admiralty if you weren't ready for this responsibility. They must have had some idea this was going to happen when they appointed you to Enterprise."
The lieutenant dropped Pike's hand slowly and after swallowing a few times he straightened up, firmed his chin and said, "Thank you, sir, I will do my best to be a credit to you and the Admiralty. I will not waste this opportunity. You can count on me."
"Excellent. I'd like to have you with me when I make the announcements to the crew. Please make yourself available in the mess at those times. You are dismissed." Pike sat back down in his chair and waved the lieutenant away.
The lieutenant came to attention, replying to his dismissal in a solemn affirmative before turning and exiting the cabin. A beaming smile could be seen on his face as he scurried down the passageway to his cabin.
"Rand!" bellowed Pike. "Send in McCoy!"
"Aye, sir," came the reply faintly through the door.
"And send the brandy with him," he added as an afterthought
There was no reply, but the door opened to the doctor holding a crystal decanter in one hand and two heavy-bottomed snifters in the other.
"Sit, sit, McCoy. I've got news I wanted to share with you before I informed the rest of the crew. There are things I'll need you to do for me before evening mess." Pike shifted restlessly in his chair before reaching over the desk for the brandy. McCoy placed the snifters on the desk and Pike splashed a good inch-and-a-half into each glass before he proceeded to tell the other man about the Admiralty's decisions and the tasks he would require of McCoy.
+++++++++
Jim Kirk prowled through his lodgings restlessly, pacing from one side to the other with ill-disguised impatience. He was at a loss to know how to proceed next, and he was never at a loss! He was known for his ability to take the Forlorn Hope and turn it around on its head into something positive. He ran his hand over the top of his head and scrubbed it through the short, bristly hair.
And did that feel wrong, much like the past six weeks on land had felt wrong; it was all of a piece at this point. He no longer knew what it was going to take to make it feel right again. But, he was trying.
It was his misfortune, though, that despite the changes he'd made in his appearance he was still too easily recognizable as himself to the myriad denizens of the Navy docks and shipyards. He'd tried signing on to every ship left that was due to sail tomorrow with the exception of Enterprise, and he couldn't find a single one that didn't turn him away in fear of reprisal if caught harbouring somebody as notorious as he.
He had come to a rest, standing at the window with this arms braced on the sill, gazing unseeingly out the window, when someone knocked on the door. Three quick steps took him across the room and he had the door open directly.
"Bones!" Jim gaped at the other man.
"Jim. How are you?" McCoy stood there with a plain pine box in his hands, his hands clenching and unclenching on it nervously.
"Come in, come in." Jim grasped him by the arm and led him into the room, shutting the door after him. "I didn't think I'd see you again before Enterprise shipped out. I'm glad--"
McCoy cut Kirk off before he could relate just what he was glad of. "I'm here solely at Captain Pike's request. He asked me to return this to you." He held the box out toward Jim.
"Oh, I didn't expect…thank him for me, then, will you, please?" Kirk took the box from McCoy, stroking his hand over the undecorated lid reverently. "That is so like the captain to make sure this was returned to me. I owe him so much of my gratitude." He looked up just in time to see McCoy turn sharply to the side, his brows tight and his mouth drawn down like he was in pain.
"What's wrong, Bones?" he asked softly.
McCoy drew in a breath and after releasing it explosively reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper bearing a wax seal stamped with an indecipherable signet. "Pike is being relieved of command of Enterprise so he can testify at the court martial of Admiral Calder. He wanted to make sure you got your father's sextant back before you sailed and he asked me to bring it, and this letter, to you if you were still here in lodgings. And now that I've done that, I've discharged my tasks for the day. I must take my leave. I've yet to make a final stop at the apothecary shop and I need to be back to the ship in time for evening mess with the crew."
Jim set the sextant and letter down on the bed and reached out hesitantly, laying his hand on McCoy's forearm as if to hold him there. "Thank you, for everything. I know I don't say it enough, and my actions may run counter to my intentions, but I have always held you high in my regard." He would have continued on in that vein, but he saw McCoy reaching into his pocket with his other hand and knew exactly what he was doing. He smiled in understanding; going for the watch was one of Bones' tells that he was either nervous or very nervous with a possibility of profanity soon to be vociferated. He decided to forestall that possibility.
"I'm sorry. You need to leave, don't you? I won't keep you, except for this." He dropped his hand from McCoy's arm, but moved in just that little bit closer, looked directly into McCoy's eyes, leaned forward just a little, closed his eyes and brushed his lips against the other's briefly. Without waiting to see if Bones responded to him, he stepped back and gave him a brief quirk of the lips, not even a smile, but something soft and yearning. "Be safe, old man."
McCoy looked at him for a moment longer before a choked "You, too," was forced from his throat. He turned and was out the door in two steps, the door clicking shut behind him.
Jim dropped heavily onto the bed, staring off at nothing at all, until the discomfort of the edge of the box that was digging into his thigh finally woke him from his formless musings. After looking at it curiously for a few moments, he picked up the letter lying on top of it and broke the seal to read what Captain Pike had to say. While he had some idea of what it said from Bones' earlier revelation, his expression turned to one of extreme surprise after scanning the first couple of lines. By the time he was finished reading the missive he had a grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear.
Part 2