FIC: Future Imperfect (15/16) (Kirk/McCoy, dystopic AU)
Title: Future Imperfect (15/16)
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: Teen (this part)
Word count: 3,261
Warnings: Slavery "light"
Thanks: To cordelianne, who got another job interview this week (and I got three). It's been a good week.
Notes: This story takes place in the same time period as the 2009 movie (and will roughly follow its events), but imagines the future as a eugenic dystopia. Technically unbeta'd, so feel free to point out typos. Just one more chapter to go!
Summary: Leonard wins the kid in a hand of poker. A hand of poker he plays in the dirty back room of a dive bar in East Bumfuck, Iowa, two weeks after his humiliating divorce is finalized, and on the sixth day of a bourbon-fueled bender that’s somehow taken him from his high-rise loft in Atlanta to a fleabag motel in the middle of nowhere.
Previous parts here.
Also available on AO3.
A lack of a warp core makes for a long trip home and, overall, things are kind of a huge mess.
Literally.
It would be easy for anyone to keep busy, to keep distracted, to keep from dealing with tricky things.
It’s especially easy for an Acting First Officer and an Acting CMO.
For his part, Leonard spends much of his spare time keeping tabs on Captain Pike’s post-operative progress. It’s peaceful, in its way. The larger sickbay is still overwhelmed and often noisy, but Pike’s only been conscious for short intervals, so most of the time it’s just Leonard and the computer readings in the private, sound-blocked recovery room.
Sometimes Leonard just pulls a chair up to Pike’s biobed and sits a spell.
It’s the perfect escape…until Jim walks in.
“Oh, um, hey, Bones.”
Jim looks for a moment like he might bolt. This isn’t Leonard’s usual time and Jim must have been expecting Pike to be alone. After a second, though, he unfreezes and approaches Pike’s biobed, moving through the space in a way that lets Leonard know Jim’s been spending some time in here, too.
“How’s he doing?” Jim asks.
Yes, Leonard thinks, Pike’s health is a safe topic between them. “Well, it’s early yet, but things are looking good,” he says. “His readings get stronger by the hour.”
Jim nods. “He tells me you pulled off a medical miracle.”
Pike has told Leonard that, too, and privately, Leonard thinks they might both be right, but he shrugs and looks down. “Just doing my job. Anyway, it’s not all down to me. Pike’s a tough bastard.”
“Yeah,” Jim agrees with a small smile, “he really is.”
Leonard’s not really sure what to say next.
It’s Pike - voice is still weak from disuse - who breaks the silence that’s starting to stretch between them. “It’s not polite to talk about a man like he isn’t there.”
“Captain,” Leonard says to cover his startlement, “nice of you to join us. How’re you feeling today?”
“Bored,” is Pike’s usual answer, along with, “restless.” He turns his head slowly to look at Jim. “Kirk, you taking good care of my ship?”
“Yes, sir,” Jim says. “We’re nearly done with the cleanup on Deck Six, all the Vulcans have been assigned to quarters, and power’s been restored to even a few of the non-essential systems. Oh, and Scotty’s managed to soup up the impulse engines.” Jim pauses, almost imperceptibly. “Might save us a few hours on the ride home.”
“Good,” Pike says. “How about you and Spock? Staying away from each other’s throats?”
“What’s a little choking between friends?” Jim smiles again. “We’ll be besties in no time.”
Pike rolls his eyes.
Seeing an opening, Leonard stands up from his chair and steps closer to Jim. “Speaking of throats, Jim, you really ought to let me look you over while you’re here. You went through a lot and it’s been a few days. Also, you look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Jim says, “but I’m sure you have more urgent patients.”
Leonard scowls. “You’re the First Officer. That makes your health and ability to function pretty damn urgent.”
“I’m functioning fine, Bones.” Jim pauses for a second, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s got something more to say…but doesn’t. “Anyway, I should get back to that.” He looks down at Pike. “See you soon, Captain. Later, Bones.”
Jim makes a quick exit and Leonard stares after him, wondering what he could have said or done differently.
Meanwhile, Pike is looking at Leonard like he’s trying to see inside Leonard’s soul.
Leonard would prefer to keep his soul to himself, thank you very much. “Well, everything looks fine here,” he says, picking up his PADD and tricorder and backing towards the door. “I’ll let you get some rest.”
“I get plenty of rest,” Pike says. “Have a seat.”
Leonard knows an order when he hears one. He sits back down.
Pike doesn’t mince words. “So tell me, are you avoiding him or is he avoiding you?”
Leonard wants to say, ‘None of your business,’ but he also knows a futile struggle when he sees one. “Hard to say,” he answers instead. “Things have been busy.”
“You both seem to find plenty of time to hide out in here.”
“I could definitely change that,” Leonard mutters. Then: “There’s just…a lot to talk about. Hasn’t seemed like the right time.”
“You know, you’re right,” Pike begins, voice dry. “I mean, why talk here and now when you could wait until we get back to Earth? I’m sure things will be a lot less complicated then.”
Leonard sighs. “Point taken.”
“How are the communication systems?” Pike asks almost first thing when Jim comes to visit the next day.
“Long range, not great. We have sporadic communication with headquarters on a delay, but no live communication and nowhere near the capacity we’d need to start allowing the crew and passengers to send personal messages. We’re working on it.”
Pike nods. “That should be good enough. Look, I have some people in place that I need to contact, but we’re gonna want to keep it pretty quiet.”
“Can I tell Spock?” Jim asks.
“Yeah,” Pike says, “I think he’s proven himself by this point.”
“Good, we’ll set it up.”
“Good,” Pike echoes. “Now, speaking of communication, have you talked to McCoy yet?”
“Subtle segue,” Jim mutters, looking down. “Don’t we have more important things to talk about?”
“It’s all important, Jim. You think I want to be lying here giving relationship advice? But you two could do great things together. You have done great things together. He just needs to know where he stands with you.”
“Yeah?” Jim’s head snaps up. “Well, how the hell am I supposed to tell him that when I don’t even know where I stand in life?”
The words burst forth without Jim’s permission, threatening to crack him open and release all the tension, fear, and anger that have been simmering just beneath the surface since the Enterprise started on its way back to Earth. Jim swallows hard and pushes it all back down.
It’s useless to think about going back. The best Jim can do up here is focus on his job while he still has it.
“I don’t know what comes next, Jim,” Pike says softly, “but good or bad, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be hard. So ask yourself if you really want to do it alone.”
Leonard is in the CMO’s office trying to get a handle on their very limited inventory and how best to allocate it when his comm beeps, paging him to Pike’s biobed.
Leonard leaps out of his chair.
In these long days of constant monitoring, Pike has never once called Leonard to his side, and Leonard has no idea what could be wrong. All his readings were strong just a couple of hours ago.
He all but runs to Pike’s room. The door slides open and Leonard opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but then he catches sight of Pike holding a finger up to his lips in the intergalactic sign for Shhhh!
Further examination of the room reveals Jim, passed out in the chair at Pike’s bedside.
Pike catches Leonard’s eye again and casts a significant glance between the tricorder in Leonard’s hand and Jim’s sleeping form. Leonard gets the message and wastes no time tip-toeing over to Jim and running as full a scan as he thinks he can get away with without waking Jim up.
According to the tricorder, Jim is battered and bruised (of course), but healing pretty well on his own in most respects. What really worries Leonard are Jim’s stress hormones, which are all out of whack. It’s a miracle the kid fell asleep at all with all that shit coursing through his system, but he’s still in desperate need of some serious rest that Leonard is sure he can’t be getting.
With a grateful nod to Pike, Leonard leaves the room to prepare a hypo that should balance Jim out a bit and finally allow his body to relax. Before he can get back to administer it, though, he spots Jim, very much awake, leaving Pike’s room and starting on his way out of sickbay.
“Jim, wait a minute,” Leonard calls, holding up the hypospray, “I need to give you something.”
Jim stops and turns to face Leonard, but shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
Leonard snorts. “You’re better than I expected, but you’re far from fine.”
Jim frowns. “Better than you…? You scanned me in my sleep?”
“Damn right, I did. I’d have hypo’d you in your sleep, too, but you had to go and wake up on me. Speaking of sleep, when was the last time you actually got any?”
Jim lack of an immediate answer is answer enough. Here, at least, as a doctor, Leonard feels like he’s on solid ground.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Leonard says. “You’re getting this hypo and then you’re heading to your quarters and getting some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
“I can’t,” Jim says.
“Don’t be an infant,” Leonard says. “You’ll barely feel it.”
“I always feel it,” Jim says, “but that’s not what I mean.” He pauses and then sighs before admitting: “I don’t have any quarters.”
Leonard is taken aback. The way Jim’s taken to his newfound authority makes it hard to remember that he wasn’t actually supposed to be on this ship. “You’re the first officer now. Surely you could have assigned yourself some.”
Jim shrugs. “There are people on board who need the space more than I do.” He straightens. “Besides, I’m fi-ow!”
Leonard nips that nonsense in the bud by injecting the hypo straight into Jim’s neck.
“Chapel, I’m going off duty,” he calls over his shoulder.
“About time!” Chapel yells back.
Jim is scowling at him. Leonard finds he doesn’t care.
“Come on,” he says, taking hold of Jim’s arm and no letting go until they’ve reach Leonard’s assigned quarters.
“Bones, for fuck’s sake,” Jim protests, “I’m not even that tir-” He breaks off into a yawn as the hypo takes effect, dissipating the adrenaline that’s been coursing through Jim’s system. “Did you drug me?”
“Your body drugged you,” Leonard says as he guides Jim to the bed and pushes him to lie down. “I just sorted things back out again. Now, just shut your eyes and take a few deep breathes, okay? Now that it’s been taken off high alert, your body will let you know when you’ve had enough rest to function normally again.”
Jim slumps against the mattress, signaling his acquiescence. Leonard starts to step back, but now it’s Jim’s hand reaching out to grip Leonard’s arm.
“Stay,” Jim says.
The word slams straight against Leonard’s heart, but he decides not to ask exactly what it means. He just lies down beside Jim instead, shuts his eyes, and breathes deep.
They’re both asleep in minutes.
When they wake up, their bodies are pressed together. The bed is small, but Jim knows the bed’s not to blame.
They’re both still dressed, but it doesn’t matter. They don’t speak and they don’t bother with much more than unfastening each other’s pants, pushing troublesome fabric aside.
Their breath comes in harsh pants, mingling between them.
It feels like ages since they’ve touched, since they’ve moved against each other. It seems as if the whole world - more than one world - has shifted in the meantime. And yet, somehow, this is as natural as breathing.
Jim thinks this may be as close as he’ll ever come to a home.
Leonard knows they should get up. Leonard knows that they both still have a lot of work to do to get all the souls onboard back to Earth safe and sound.
But Leonard doesn’t want to get up, he doesn’t want to do anything, and he especially doesn’t want to get back to Earth.
He only cares about one soul.
“We should go,” he whispers. The first words either of them has spoken since Jim asked him to stay.
Jim groans. “I know. Just a few more minutes.”
Leonard shakes his head, pulling Jim closer. “No, I mean, we should just leave. Take a shuttle. Abandon ship. Find some quiet corner of the galaxy where none of this matters and we can just…be.”
Jim is quiet for a long time, and when Leonard looks at him, he can see the longing in Jim’s eyes.
“I’d better get back on shift,” Jim says finally.
“Yeah,” Leonard says, releasing his hold, “me too.”
Jim finds Bones in the CMO’s office later that day. Bones looks up from behind his desk and when he sees Jim he smiles, just a little.
“Scotty’s got the synthesizers running better, though most of the improvements seem to be focused on sandwiches. So I synthesized a couple, figured I’d see what all the fuss is about. You want one?”
Bones nods. “Yeah, thanks.”
Jim sits down across from him and passes a sandwich over. They eat in silence for a few minutes.
The sandwich is surprisingly good.
“You know,” Jim says, after a bit, “Pike thinks we could do great things together. He kind of won’t shut up about it.”
“Yeah,” Bones agrees, “with me, too.”
Jim examines his food. “It’s just…I don’t think us running away together is what he has in mind.” He looks up again.
Bones meets his gaze. “What does he have in mind?”
“Revolution,” Jim says plainly. “He’s put a lot of effort into training me.”
“You don’t owe Pike anything,” Bones says.
“You don’t know what I owe Pike,” Jim counters. “But it doesn’t matter. I want it, too. What good was saving the planet if we don’t help the people on it? All the people.”
Bones takes another bite of his sandwich.
Chews it.
Swallows.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay?” Jim asks.
Bones nods. “Okay.”
When Leonard goes to look in on Pike several hours later, Jim is already there. Leonard starts to go through his usual check of Pike’s readings and doesn’t realize he’s smiling stupidly at Jim until Pike is smirking at them both.
“I’m fine,” Pike says. “Get out of here, both of you. Get some sleep. Or whatever.”
They opt for ‘whatever.’
They lie together afterwards. Jim’s eyes are closed and his breathing is even, but Leonard can’t drift off. There’s something he needs to get off his chest.
(Not Jim’s hand, though. Leonard lays his own hand over it to hold it tight against his suddenly racing heart.)
He knows he’s going to speak, but he kind of wishes he wouldn’t.
He’s tried telling himself that this shouldn’t matter. He’s tried telling himself to get over it. He’s tried telling himself to let it go.
He’s begged himself not to ruin whatever fragile thing they’ve recovered here, but in the end he knows there’s no getting past it - the only way out is through.
The words on his lips are an angry question: Why didn’t you tell me? But he’s never walked in Jim’s shoes and he knows there were a million reasons not to tell.
(And only one reason in favor. And maybe it doesn’t even apply.)
Leonard’s not really angry, though. He’s hurt.
Hurt sounds like: You could have told me. Plaintive. Pleading. But it still feels unfair, like he’s making it all about himself.
He doesn’t want a fight. He just needs an answer.
When he looks at Jim, Jim is looking back, eyes pushed open by the pounding in Leonard’s chest.
“Bones?”
Leonard opens his mouth and the words fall out like this: “I’m sorry you didn’t think you could tell me the truth.”
It’s true. He is sorry. Hurt. But sorry, too.
Breath caught, he waits for Jim to respond.
After a moment, Jim does the last thing Leonard expects - he huffs a little laugh, the air pushing across Leonard’s chest.
Leonard’s heart clenches and he starts to pull away, but Jim holds tighter.
“No,” Jim says, “I’m sorry. It’s just…that’s so you. Trying to make everything your own fault.”
Leonard scowls. “I’m not-”
“You’re allowed to be pissed at me, you know. That’s part of treating me like a real person. Holding me responsible for my actions.”
“I’m not pissed,” Leonard grumbles.
“You’re a little pissed,” Jim insists.
“No, I’m not…”
“Yes, you are.”
“Fine,” Leonard snaps, “I don’t love that you were sneaking around behind my back and that you obviously trust Pike more than you trust me, okay? But I get it. You were in a difficult position. If you had told me and I had turned you in-”
“You would never have turned me in,” Jim says. “Never. And that’s why I couldn’t tell you. And maybe it was the wrong choice, but I’d probably do it the same way again, and that’s why.”
Leonard is confused. “What’s why?”
“To protect you, you self-sacrificing idiot. I made a choice to take a risk, but you didn’t. If I’d told you, it wouldn’t have been just my risk anymore. If they caught me and found out that you knew, you might have gotten in serious trouble…” Jim shakes his head and laughs softly again. “I mean, think about it, even without knowing what I’d been doing, you were ready to lie your ass off covering for me and maybe get yourself kicked out of Starfleet. Who knows what you would have done if you thought it was for a more noble cause.”
“Oh, come on, I wouldn’t-” Leonard starts to protest automatically, but then he finds his own laugh rising in this throat. “Okay, yeah, I might have a bit of a martyr problem.”
Jim rolls his eyes. “Ya think?”
It’s not even that funny, but a few seconds later they both start laughing like idiots.
And they can’t seem to stop.
They laugh and laugh and Leonard can feel himself letting go.
Leonard is checking Pike’s readings. Pike is absorbed in whatever is on the PADD Jim has given him (against the recommendation of the CMO). Leonard knows better than to try to get the thing out of Pike’s hands, but he can’t help himself from offering a warning as he gets ready to leave.
“I know you’re bored, but you need to keep getting rest. It takes more energy than we think for the body to heal. Whatever it is, it can probably wait.”
“It’s me reminding some key people that Jim saved everybody’s ass,” Pike informs him dryly. “I think it’s fairly urgent.”
“My medical judgment stands,” Leonard says. “But my personal judgment says give ’em hell.”
Pike chuckles. “I’ll be finished in a few minutes anyway.”
Leonard starts toward the door, but then turns back. “About that, though. I mean, Jim saving the world. How did he figure out what was going on? How did you know to believe him?”
Pike looks at Leonard for a moment. “I think that’s Jim’s story to tell,” he says.
Leonard shakes his head. “Yeah, of course, I-”
“That’s okay,” comes Jim’s voice from the doorway, “it’s probably easier if we tell it together.” Leonard turns and Jim meets his gaze. “That night at the bar in Riverside - it wasn’t Captain Pike’s first time meeting me.”
Leonard didn’t think he could still be surprised like this. “You knew him before?”
“Not exactly,” Jim says, looking to Pike.
“He was a bit too young to remember me,” Pike says. “See, I met Jim on the day he was born.”
On to the conclusion...
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: Teen (this part)
Word count: 3,261
Warnings: Slavery "light"
Thanks: To cordelianne, who got another job interview this week (and I got three). It's been a good week.
Notes: This story takes place in the same time period as the 2009 movie (and will roughly follow its events), but imagines the future as a eugenic dystopia. Technically unbeta'd, so feel free to point out typos. Just one more chapter to go!
Summary: Leonard wins the kid in a hand of poker. A hand of poker he plays in the dirty back room of a dive bar in East Bumfuck, Iowa, two weeks after his humiliating divorce is finalized, and on the sixth day of a bourbon-fueled bender that’s somehow taken him from his high-rise loft in Atlanta to a fleabag motel in the middle of nowhere.
Previous parts here.
Also available on AO3.
A lack of a warp core makes for a long trip home and, overall, things are kind of a huge mess.
Literally.
It would be easy for anyone to keep busy, to keep distracted, to keep from dealing with tricky things.
It’s especially easy for an Acting First Officer and an Acting CMO.
For his part, Leonard spends much of his spare time keeping tabs on Captain Pike’s post-operative progress. It’s peaceful, in its way. The larger sickbay is still overwhelmed and often noisy, but Pike’s only been conscious for short intervals, so most of the time it’s just Leonard and the computer readings in the private, sound-blocked recovery room.
Sometimes Leonard just pulls a chair up to Pike’s biobed and sits a spell.
It’s the perfect escape…until Jim walks in.
“Oh, um, hey, Bones.”
Jim looks for a moment like he might bolt. This isn’t Leonard’s usual time and Jim must have been expecting Pike to be alone. After a second, though, he unfreezes and approaches Pike’s biobed, moving through the space in a way that lets Leonard know Jim’s been spending some time in here, too.
“How’s he doing?” Jim asks.
Yes, Leonard thinks, Pike’s health is a safe topic between them. “Well, it’s early yet, but things are looking good,” he says. “His readings get stronger by the hour.”
Jim nods. “He tells me you pulled off a medical miracle.”
Pike has told Leonard that, too, and privately, Leonard thinks they might both be right, but he shrugs and looks down. “Just doing my job. Anyway, it’s not all down to me. Pike’s a tough bastard.”
“Yeah,” Jim agrees with a small smile, “he really is.”
Leonard’s not really sure what to say next.
It’s Pike - voice is still weak from disuse - who breaks the silence that’s starting to stretch between them. “It’s not polite to talk about a man like he isn’t there.”
“Captain,” Leonard says to cover his startlement, “nice of you to join us. How’re you feeling today?”
“Bored,” is Pike’s usual answer, along with, “restless.” He turns his head slowly to look at Jim. “Kirk, you taking good care of my ship?”
“Yes, sir,” Jim says. “We’re nearly done with the cleanup on Deck Six, all the Vulcans have been assigned to quarters, and power’s been restored to even a few of the non-essential systems. Oh, and Scotty’s managed to soup up the impulse engines.” Jim pauses, almost imperceptibly. “Might save us a few hours on the ride home.”
“Good,” Pike says. “How about you and Spock? Staying away from each other’s throats?”
“What’s a little choking between friends?” Jim smiles again. “We’ll be besties in no time.”
Pike rolls his eyes.
Seeing an opening, Leonard stands up from his chair and steps closer to Jim. “Speaking of throats, Jim, you really ought to let me look you over while you’re here. You went through a lot and it’s been a few days. Also, you look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Jim says, “but I’m sure you have more urgent patients.”
Leonard scowls. “You’re the First Officer. That makes your health and ability to function pretty damn urgent.”
“I’m functioning fine, Bones.” Jim pauses for a second, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s got something more to say…but doesn’t. “Anyway, I should get back to that.” He looks down at Pike. “See you soon, Captain. Later, Bones.”
Jim makes a quick exit and Leonard stares after him, wondering what he could have said or done differently.
Meanwhile, Pike is looking at Leonard like he’s trying to see inside Leonard’s soul.
Leonard would prefer to keep his soul to himself, thank you very much. “Well, everything looks fine here,” he says, picking up his PADD and tricorder and backing towards the door. “I’ll let you get some rest.”
“I get plenty of rest,” Pike says. “Have a seat.”
Leonard knows an order when he hears one. He sits back down.
Pike doesn’t mince words. “So tell me, are you avoiding him or is he avoiding you?”
Leonard wants to say, ‘None of your business,’ but he also knows a futile struggle when he sees one. “Hard to say,” he answers instead. “Things have been busy.”
“You both seem to find plenty of time to hide out in here.”
“I could definitely change that,” Leonard mutters. Then: “There’s just…a lot to talk about. Hasn’t seemed like the right time.”
“You know, you’re right,” Pike begins, voice dry. “I mean, why talk here and now when you could wait until we get back to Earth? I’m sure things will be a lot less complicated then.”
Leonard sighs. “Point taken.”
“How are the communication systems?” Pike asks almost first thing when Jim comes to visit the next day.
“Long range, not great. We have sporadic communication with headquarters on a delay, but no live communication and nowhere near the capacity we’d need to start allowing the crew and passengers to send personal messages. We’re working on it.”
Pike nods. “That should be good enough. Look, I have some people in place that I need to contact, but we’re gonna want to keep it pretty quiet.”
“Can I tell Spock?” Jim asks.
“Yeah,” Pike says, “I think he’s proven himself by this point.”
“Good, we’ll set it up.”
“Good,” Pike echoes. “Now, speaking of communication, have you talked to McCoy yet?”
“Subtle segue,” Jim mutters, looking down. “Don’t we have more important things to talk about?”
“It’s all important, Jim. You think I want to be lying here giving relationship advice? But you two could do great things together. You have done great things together. He just needs to know where he stands with you.”
“Yeah?” Jim’s head snaps up. “Well, how the hell am I supposed to tell him that when I don’t even know where I stand in life?”
The words burst forth without Jim’s permission, threatening to crack him open and release all the tension, fear, and anger that have been simmering just beneath the surface since the Enterprise started on its way back to Earth. Jim swallows hard and pushes it all back down.
It’s useless to think about going back. The best Jim can do up here is focus on his job while he still has it.
“I don’t know what comes next, Jim,” Pike says softly, “but good or bad, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be hard. So ask yourself if you really want to do it alone.”
Leonard is in the CMO’s office trying to get a handle on their very limited inventory and how best to allocate it when his comm beeps, paging him to Pike’s biobed.
Leonard leaps out of his chair.
In these long days of constant monitoring, Pike has never once called Leonard to his side, and Leonard has no idea what could be wrong. All his readings were strong just a couple of hours ago.
He all but runs to Pike’s room. The door slides open and Leonard opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but then he catches sight of Pike holding a finger up to his lips in the intergalactic sign for Shhhh!
Further examination of the room reveals Jim, passed out in the chair at Pike’s bedside.
Pike catches Leonard’s eye again and casts a significant glance between the tricorder in Leonard’s hand and Jim’s sleeping form. Leonard gets the message and wastes no time tip-toeing over to Jim and running as full a scan as he thinks he can get away with without waking Jim up.
According to the tricorder, Jim is battered and bruised (of course), but healing pretty well on his own in most respects. What really worries Leonard are Jim’s stress hormones, which are all out of whack. It’s a miracle the kid fell asleep at all with all that shit coursing through his system, but he’s still in desperate need of some serious rest that Leonard is sure he can’t be getting.
With a grateful nod to Pike, Leonard leaves the room to prepare a hypo that should balance Jim out a bit and finally allow his body to relax. Before he can get back to administer it, though, he spots Jim, very much awake, leaving Pike’s room and starting on his way out of sickbay.
“Jim, wait a minute,” Leonard calls, holding up the hypospray, “I need to give you something.”
Jim stops and turns to face Leonard, but shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
Leonard snorts. “You’re better than I expected, but you’re far from fine.”
Jim frowns. “Better than you…? You scanned me in my sleep?”
“Damn right, I did. I’d have hypo’d you in your sleep, too, but you had to go and wake up on me. Speaking of sleep, when was the last time you actually got any?”
Jim lack of an immediate answer is answer enough. Here, at least, as a doctor, Leonard feels like he’s on solid ground.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Leonard says. “You’re getting this hypo and then you’re heading to your quarters and getting some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
“I can’t,” Jim says.
“Don’t be an infant,” Leonard says. “You’ll barely feel it.”
“I always feel it,” Jim says, “but that’s not what I mean.” He pauses and then sighs before admitting: “I don’t have any quarters.”
Leonard is taken aback. The way Jim’s taken to his newfound authority makes it hard to remember that he wasn’t actually supposed to be on this ship. “You’re the first officer now. Surely you could have assigned yourself some.”
Jim shrugs. “There are people on board who need the space more than I do.” He straightens. “Besides, I’m fi-ow!”
Leonard nips that nonsense in the bud by injecting the hypo straight into Jim’s neck.
“Chapel, I’m going off duty,” he calls over his shoulder.
“About time!” Chapel yells back.
Jim is scowling at him. Leonard finds he doesn’t care.
“Come on,” he says, taking hold of Jim’s arm and no letting go until they’ve reach Leonard’s assigned quarters.
“Bones, for fuck’s sake,” Jim protests, “I’m not even that tir-” He breaks off into a yawn as the hypo takes effect, dissipating the adrenaline that’s been coursing through Jim’s system. “Did you drug me?”
“Your body drugged you,” Leonard says as he guides Jim to the bed and pushes him to lie down. “I just sorted things back out again. Now, just shut your eyes and take a few deep breathes, okay? Now that it’s been taken off high alert, your body will let you know when you’ve had enough rest to function normally again.”
Jim slumps against the mattress, signaling his acquiescence. Leonard starts to step back, but now it’s Jim’s hand reaching out to grip Leonard’s arm.
“Stay,” Jim says.
The word slams straight against Leonard’s heart, but he decides not to ask exactly what it means. He just lies down beside Jim instead, shuts his eyes, and breathes deep.
They’re both asleep in minutes.
When they wake up, their bodies are pressed together. The bed is small, but Jim knows the bed’s not to blame.
They’re both still dressed, but it doesn’t matter. They don’t speak and they don’t bother with much more than unfastening each other’s pants, pushing troublesome fabric aside.
Their breath comes in harsh pants, mingling between them.
It feels like ages since they’ve touched, since they’ve moved against each other. It seems as if the whole world - more than one world - has shifted in the meantime. And yet, somehow, this is as natural as breathing.
Jim thinks this may be as close as he’ll ever come to a home.
Leonard knows they should get up. Leonard knows that they both still have a lot of work to do to get all the souls onboard back to Earth safe and sound.
But Leonard doesn’t want to get up, he doesn’t want to do anything, and he especially doesn’t want to get back to Earth.
He only cares about one soul.
“We should go,” he whispers. The first words either of them has spoken since Jim asked him to stay.
Jim groans. “I know. Just a few more minutes.”
Leonard shakes his head, pulling Jim closer. “No, I mean, we should just leave. Take a shuttle. Abandon ship. Find some quiet corner of the galaxy where none of this matters and we can just…be.”
Jim is quiet for a long time, and when Leonard looks at him, he can see the longing in Jim’s eyes.
“I’d better get back on shift,” Jim says finally.
“Yeah,” Leonard says, releasing his hold, “me too.”
Jim finds Bones in the CMO’s office later that day. Bones looks up from behind his desk and when he sees Jim he smiles, just a little.
“Scotty’s got the synthesizers running better, though most of the improvements seem to be focused on sandwiches. So I synthesized a couple, figured I’d see what all the fuss is about. You want one?”
Bones nods. “Yeah, thanks.”
Jim sits down across from him and passes a sandwich over. They eat in silence for a few minutes.
The sandwich is surprisingly good.
“You know,” Jim says, after a bit, “Pike thinks we could do great things together. He kind of won’t shut up about it.”
“Yeah,” Bones agrees, “with me, too.”
Jim examines his food. “It’s just…I don’t think us running away together is what he has in mind.” He looks up again.
Bones meets his gaze. “What does he have in mind?”
“Revolution,” Jim says plainly. “He’s put a lot of effort into training me.”
“You don’t owe Pike anything,” Bones says.
“You don’t know what I owe Pike,” Jim counters. “But it doesn’t matter. I want it, too. What good was saving the planet if we don’t help the people on it? All the people.”
Bones takes another bite of his sandwich.
Chews it.
Swallows.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay?” Jim asks.
Bones nods. “Okay.”
When Leonard goes to look in on Pike several hours later, Jim is already there. Leonard starts to go through his usual check of Pike’s readings and doesn’t realize he’s smiling stupidly at Jim until Pike is smirking at them both.
“I’m fine,” Pike says. “Get out of here, both of you. Get some sleep. Or whatever.”
They opt for ‘whatever.’
They lie together afterwards. Jim’s eyes are closed and his breathing is even, but Leonard can’t drift off. There’s something he needs to get off his chest.
(Not Jim’s hand, though. Leonard lays his own hand over it to hold it tight against his suddenly racing heart.)
He knows he’s going to speak, but he kind of wishes he wouldn’t.
He’s tried telling himself that this shouldn’t matter. He’s tried telling himself to get over it. He’s tried telling himself to let it go.
He’s begged himself not to ruin whatever fragile thing they’ve recovered here, but in the end he knows there’s no getting past it - the only way out is through.
The words on his lips are an angry question: Why didn’t you tell me? But he’s never walked in Jim’s shoes and he knows there were a million reasons not to tell.
(And only one reason in favor. And maybe it doesn’t even apply.)
Leonard’s not really angry, though. He’s hurt.
Hurt sounds like: You could have told me. Plaintive. Pleading. But it still feels unfair, like he’s making it all about himself.
He doesn’t want a fight. He just needs an answer.
When he looks at Jim, Jim is looking back, eyes pushed open by the pounding in Leonard’s chest.
“Bones?”
Leonard opens his mouth and the words fall out like this: “I’m sorry you didn’t think you could tell me the truth.”
It’s true. He is sorry. Hurt. But sorry, too.
Breath caught, he waits for Jim to respond.
After a moment, Jim does the last thing Leonard expects - he huffs a little laugh, the air pushing across Leonard’s chest.
Leonard’s heart clenches and he starts to pull away, but Jim holds tighter.
“No,” Jim says, “I’m sorry. It’s just…that’s so you. Trying to make everything your own fault.”
Leonard scowls. “I’m not-”
“You’re allowed to be pissed at me, you know. That’s part of treating me like a real person. Holding me responsible for my actions.”
“I’m not pissed,” Leonard grumbles.
“You’re a little pissed,” Jim insists.
“No, I’m not…”
“Yes, you are.”
“Fine,” Leonard snaps, “I don’t love that you were sneaking around behind my back and that you obviously trust Pike more than you trust me, okay? But I get it. You were in a difficult position. If you had told me and I had turned you in-”
“You would never have turned me in,” Jim says. “Never. And that’s why I couldn’t tell you. And maybe it was the wrong choice, but I’d probably do it the same way again, and that’s why.”
Leonard is confused. “What’s why?”
“To protect you, you self-sacrificing idiot. I made a choice to take a risk, but you didn’t. If I’d told you, it wouldn’t have been just my risk anymore. If they caught me and found out that you knew, you might have gotten in serious trouble…” Jim shakes his head and laughs softly again. “I mean, think about it, even without knowing what I’d been doing, you were ready to lie your ass off covering for me and maybe get yourself kicked out of Starfleet. Who knows what you would have done if you thought it was for a more noble cause.”
“Oh, come on, I wouldn’t-” Leonard starts to protest automatically, but then he finds his own laugh rising in this throat. “Okay, yeah, I might have a bit of a martyr problem.”
Jim rolls his eyes. “Ya think?”
It’s not even that funny, but a few seconds later they both start laughing like idiots.
And they can’t seem to stop.
They laugh and laugh and Leonard can feel himself letting go.
Leonard is checking Pike’s readings. Pike is absorbed in whatever is on the PADD Jim has given him (against the recommendation of the CMO). Leonard knows better than to try to get the thing out of Pike’s hands, but he can’t help himself from offering a warning as he gets ready to leave.
“I know you’re bored, but you need to keep getting rest. It takes more energy than we think for the body to heal. Whatever it is, it can probably wait.”
“It’s me reminding some key people that Jim saved everybody’s ass,” Pike informs him dryly. “I think it’s fairly urgent.”
“My medical judgment stands,” Leonard says. “But my personal judgment says give ’em hell.”
Pike chuckles. “I’ll be finished in a few minutes anyway.”
Leonard starts toward the door, but then turns back. “About that, though. I mean, Jim saving the world. How did he figure out what was going on? How did you know to believe him?”
Pike looks at Leonard for a moment. “I think that’s Jim’s story to tell,” he says.
Leonard shakes his head. “Yeah, of course, I-”
“That’s okay,” comes Jim’s voice from the doorway, “it’s probably easier if we tell it together.” Leonard turns and Jim meets his gaze. “That night at the bar in Riverside - it wasn’t Captain Pike’s first time meeting me.”
Leonard didn’t think he could still be surprised like this. “You knew him before?”
“Not exactly,” Jim says, looking to Pike.
“He was a bit too young to remember me,” Pike says. “See, I met Jim on the day he was born.”
On to the conclusion...