[fic] What Happens Next (Star Trek)
What Happens Next
Fandom: Star Trek (Reboot)
Characters: McCoy
Summary: The softer side of Leonard McCoy. Such as it is.
A/N: I wrote this over a week ago and I keep forgetting to post it! Here, I mean. It was written for and posted to yahtzee63's Journey to Drabble Challenge. The prompt was McCoy: divorce. 620 words. All info on Joanna was taken from Memory Alpha, so there really aren't any movie spoilers. I'm not 100% in love with the ending, but the rest I kind of like.
Joanna found him passed out on the sofa, not drunk, just bone-tired. Amazing: in the past eight years, he'd acquired so very little in the way of personal possessions. How in the hell was it taking all day to pack?
"Daddy?"
Leonard McCoy removed the throw pillow from his face and blinked up at his six-year-old daughter. "What, sweetheart?" His voice was hoarse, his throat dry. Before coming by the house to get his things, he'd been working at the hospital for thirty-six hours straight. He needed a drink. What he wouldn't give for a splash of bourbon…or a medical emergency. Anything to take his mind off the divorce.
Joanna held a plastic cup in her small hands. "You look sick," she explained, "so I made you some medicine."
"Oh?" McCoy pushed himself up and took the proffered cup. He looked doubtfully at the pale purplish-brown liquid. "What's in here?"
"Just…stuff."
"Your mother didn't give this to you?" Not that poison was Jocelyn's style.
"No. She's at work. I just made it from stuff in the kitchen."
McCoy swished the liquid in the cup. Little dark flecks bobbed to the surface. Coffee grains, he thought. So, cold coffee from the carafe. Milk…or that soy crap of Jocelyn's. What else? Where was the purple coming from?
"Drink it, Daddy."
McCoy glanced at her. She had his broad cheeks and pointed chin. The rest, he thought, was Jocelyn's. Just as well. His soon-to-be ex-wife was many things, pretty being one. Joanna was looking at him earnestly.
"Your bedside manner's lousy. You're going to have to work on that if you're going to become a doctor someday."
"I'm not going to be a doctor," she informed him.
"No?"
"No." Her glossy brown pigtails bounced about her shoulders as she shook her head. "I'm going to be an ice skater."
"Really." The only place she'd ever seen ice was a glass of lemonade. But the Olympics had been on television recently. "Ice is hard and cold and slippery. Do you know how many injuries-"
"Drink," his daughter said imperiously.
Struggling to maintain a neutral expression, McCoy lifted the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip.
"Well?"
McCoy needed a moment. At length he said, "I think the culinary arts might be out as well."
"What does that mean?"
"It means…" McCoy sighed, and set the cup on the floor carefully. "Nothing. You can do whatever you want. Just don't…" Don't what? he thought. Don't get married right out of college? Don't have kids if you know you're not going to be around most of the time, or else accept that you're just going to miss things like first steps and class trips to the zoo?
Joanna started sifting through the mess of papers and things on the sofa. "What's this?" she asked, shaking one free and pushing it at him.
It was his application to Starfleet Academy, half-filled out.
"You're going into space? Really?" Her dark eyes were wide, her tone frankly skeptical. Laughter - or perhaps something else - poked sharply at his throat, but he held it back.
"I haven't made a decision yet. It's just an idea. An option."
"You don't even like flying in a regular shuttle. Why do you want to go to space?"
Another question he couldn't answer, at least not aloud. He knew the answer, and it shamed him. If he couldn't do marriage, he didn't see how he could do joint custody. Better to get off the planet and only let her down once, than upset her as many times as he no doubt would if he stayed. He lifted her onto his lap and kissed the top of her head.
5/20/09
Fandom: Star Trek (Reboot)
Characters: McCoy
Summary: The softer side of Leonard McCoy. Such as it is.
A/N: I wrote this over a week ago and I keep forgetting to post it! Here, I mean. It was written for and posted to yahtzee63's Journey to Drabble Challenge. The prompt was McCoy: divorce. 620 words. All info on Joanna was taken from Memory Alpha, so there really aren't any movie spoilers. I'm not 100% in love with the ending, but the rest I kind of like.
Joanna found him passed out on the sofa, not drunk, just bone-tired. Amazing: in the past eight years, he'd acquired so very little in the way of personal possessions. How in the hell was it taking all day to pack?
"Daddy?"
Leonard McCoy removed the throw pillow from his face and blinked up at his six-year-old daughter. "What, sweetheart?" His voice was hoarse, his throat dry. Before coming by the house to get his things, he'd been working at the hospital for thirty-six hours straight. He needed a drink. What he wouldn't give for a splash of bourbon…or a medical emergency. Anything to take his mind off the divorce.
Joanna held a plastic cup in her small hands. "You look sick," she explained, "so I made you some medicine."
"Oh?" McCoy pushed himself up and took the proffered cup. He looked doubtfully at the pale purplish-brown liquid. "What's in here?"
"Just…stuff."
"Your mother didn't give this to you?" Not that poison was Jocelyn's style.
"No. She's at work. I just made it from stuff in the kitchen."
McCoy swished the liquid in the cup. Little dark flecks bobbed to the surface. Coffee grains, he thought. So, cold coffee from the carafe. Milk…or that soy crap of Jocelyn's. What else? Where was the purple coming from?
"Drink it, Daddy."
McCoy glanced at her. She had his broad cheeks and pointed chin. The rest, he thought, was Jocelyn's. Just as well. His soon-to-be ex-wife was many things, pretty being one. Joanna was looking at him earnestly.
"Your bedside manner's lousy. You're going to have to work on that if you're going to become a doctor someday."
"I'm not going to be a doctor," she informed him.
"No?"
"No." Her glossy brown pigtails bounced about her shoulders as she shook her head. "I'm going to be an ice skater."
"Really." The only place she'd ever seen ice was a glass of lemonade. But the Olympics had been on television recently. "Ice is hard and cold and slippery. Do you know how many injuries-"
"Drink," his daughter said imperiously.
Struggling to maintain a neutral expression, McCoy lifted the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip.
"Well?"
McCoy needed a moment. At length he said, "I think the culinary arts might be out as well."
"What does that mean?"
"It means…" McCoy sighed, and set the cup on the floor carefully. "Nothing. You can do whatever you want. Just don't…" Don't what? he thought. Don't get married right out of college? Don't have kids if you know you're not going to be around most of the time, or else accept that you're just going to miss things like first steps and class trips to the zoo?
Joanna started sifting through the mess of papers and things on the sofa. "What's this?" she asked, shaking one free and pushing it at him.
It was his application to Starfleet Academy, half-filled out.
"You're going into space? Really?" Her dark eyes were wide, her tone frankly skeptical. Laughter - or perhaps something else - poked sharply at his throat, but he held it back.
"I haven't made a decision yet. It's just an idea. An option."
"You don't even like flying in a regular shuttle. Why do you want to go to space?"
Another question he couldn't answer, at least not aloud. He knew the answer, and it shamed him. If he couldn't do marriage, he didn't see how he could do joint custody. Better to get off the planet and only let her down once, than upset her as many times as he no doubt would if he stayed. He lifted her onto his lap and kissed the top of her head.
5/20/09