Arena - Chapter One - Part Two
Jim responds, "Mistakes are a part of being human. I feel compelled to continue to be transparent. It really levels the playing field and eradicates the shame that I have, or that one might have, about being human. So I'll keep going and hope you forgive my blunders."
The Jarada ambassadors remain quiet for a moment before they speak up in a series of hums and clicks.
Uhura translates, "It is not your humanity that perplexes us. You seem so young. Is it not the surest way to corrupt a youth by instructing them to hold a higher esteem for themselves without ever sparing them the taste of humility? For one so youthful and unquenched by the mark of aging milestones, why should we pledge our peace to you, and by default, your Federation?"
"It is our intent to learn," Jim replies as Uhura translates. "We are all here to be a service to those who can't be a service to themselves. You educate us in the way of your customs, then you educate the mass, and the mass the generations."
The Jarada ambassadors nod considerably before the give three clicks, one hum and five buzzes.
Uhura translates, "An investment in knowledge pays the best interest. We welcome you, Captain James T. Kirk, and your people, and your Federation. You may come and go as you please. What your hands and feet set work to do, may you be fruitful and met with success. We look forward to the more of these interactions come the future."
The Jarada ambassadors nod with twitching antennae before they part ways.
The Vulcan Council, as well, seems satisfied with the outcome of the proceedings and disperses wordlessly.
When both parties are gone, Jim lets out a sigh of relief and allows her tense shoulders to relax. She jumps in surprise when her crew begins to clap and cheer. She smiles and laughs and gives a good bow.
Uhura rolls her eyes but she joins in on the clapping.
Jim calls up to her ship and gives them the go ahead to start beaming down the supplies and the rest of the crew, with the intent of setting up a separate camp for all the extra workers intending on giving their hand with the construction. She walks over to where Prime Spock, Sarek, and Spock are waiting expectantly. But before she can even open her mouth to greet them, Spock places a hot hand on her lower back and steers her away for some privacy.
"What? What did I do this time? I did good I thought," Jim mutters as she crosses her arms defensively. "Uhura, tell him I did good."
Uhura joins them with a curious frown. "She did better than expected," she offers. "There's nothing to worry about. The first meeting was fairly successful and hopefully future interactions between her and them will transition as smoothly."
"She is covered in bruises," Spock states as he eyes Jim's arms and legs unhappily. "The shade is consistently dark, indicating that the markings have been made recently. That is what alarms me." He looks at Jim with undisguised disapproval.
Jim opens her mouth to say something but nothing useful comes to mind so she looks at Uhura.
"I put them there," Uhura calmly explains.
"Kah-if et'liwh yeht-shila-kloshai," Spock replies, and that is so not fair because Jim is not fluent in Vulcan and he must know that, otherwise he would just say it in English, and it's not cool that they're having a conversation she can't understand.
Uhura's expression sours and she looks livid. "Do-ri nisan wuh' dor-tor."
"Tra' itisha utvau," Spock counters, unblinkingly.
"She gave me consent," Uhura retorts impatiently as they switch back to English.
"Finally," Jim huffs in a low mutter.
"Nonetheless, it is still unsuitable and improper. She is your superior," Spock rebukes, ignoring Jim.
"Understood, but considering the situation, it was necessary."
"I fail to perceive how."
"I knew it would put her in the Jaradans good favor," Uhura explains with defensive exasperation. "Which is why I made sure to put the bruises where they could see. I then made it known to them that Captain Kirk, out of pure respect, suffered for the sake of learning the customs of their people. They immediately responded with positive receptiveness and garnered a respect for her. So relax Commander Spock, I wasn't intentionally being vindictive." She doesn't wait for a reply as she storms off.
Jim feels a bit awkward, and a little guilty. Uhura had been only trying to help. She says, "I'm fine, the negotiations went fine-everything is fine. I did give her consent. And, you know, the good thing about bruises is that they eventually fade."
"I am aware. However, I feel no more prompted to condone it despite understanding this fact."
"Well aren't you moody?" Jim notes as she takes a moment to really look at him. His shoulders are tense, his mouth set in a grim line, and his dark eyes are prudent. She's not sure, because it's hard to tell, but it seems like he's edgy because of something more than the current situation at hand. "What's wrong?"
"There is nothing 'wrong', Captain," Spock flatly answers as his shoulders tense further. His spine is so straight that it looks like it might snap.
"You're a lot more grumpier than I thought you'd be," Jim admits as she goes on watching him. "I thought you'd be thrilled we're servicing New Vulcan for the next six months. I mean, you get to be among your people-"
Spock's right eyebrow gives a barely perceptible twitch and his shoulders tense further.
Jim stills in surprise. "Wait-what was that?"
"What was what, Captain?"
"That little twitch thing you just did when I brought up you being around your people," Jim repeats with an exasperated tone. "Is there something going on? Are you-have they been giving you like, I don't know, a hard time or something?"
The pause Spock gives is definitely noticeable. As neutrally as he tries to manage, he says, "Our interactions are no less different than in the days of my youth. It is no cause for concern. I will cope."
Jim rocks on her heels as her mouth scrunches unsurely while she watches him. "Okay. If you say so," she concedes, but makes a mental note to observe him carefully whenever he's interacting with another Vulcan. "But if they are giving you trouble, then you let me know and I will politely ask them to cease and desist."
Spock gazes at her for a long moment with a tiny glimmer of mirth in his dark eyes as his shoulders relax a fraction, and, clearly humoring her, he says, "I will keep that in mind."
"Good," Jim remarks as she puts her hands on her hips. "You should, Commander. As your friend, I feel it's only right that I get to be there for you and intimidate a few rude Vulcans in the process. And, well, if I can't do it, I'm sure I can talk your dad into doing it." She shrugs. "Speaking of your dad. What's he been saying about me while you've been here?"
"Nothing disreputable, if that is your concern."
"Yeah I know that," Jim huffs. "I haven't talked to him since that day we returned to Earth and got debriefed. I'm sure he's been counting the days until he can start nagging me about my depraved habits of putting myself in danger."
"He would disagree with your assessment of his behavior," Spock says as his eyes darken in amusement.
"Yeah he'd pretty much deny it and go right back to nagging me all in the same breath," Jim agrees with a snort. "I am really fond of him though. He means well. I know that."
"It has not escaped my notice that he holds equal fondness for you as well-otherwise he would not be so fretful," Spock remarks. "All the same, I suspect it would be equitable for you to acquire a regenerator and tend to your contusions-lest you have a desire to give my father a cause to 'nag'. Furthermore, I suspect you have not properly prepared your skin for the exposure of the sun. Your cheeks have pinked, and not under the guise of embarrassment or excitement."
Jim's hands fly up to her face, and she winces when the skin of her cheeks tingle in pain. "Ow," she murmurs with a pout.
"Indeed," Spock notes as his dark eyes scan her thoughtfully with a sliver of amused concern. "The likelihood that the remainder of your skin will suffer the same fate is a prodigious prospect."
"It's not fair," Jim says as she continues to prod at her sore cheeks. "You're paler than I am. Why do I get the sunburn?"
"Vulcans are made to withstand such. Not all humans, however, can-"
"Shut up," Jim mutters petulantly. "It was a rhetorical question."
Spock stares at her and says, "You are exceptionally rude."
Jim snickers and shrugs carelessly as she drops her hands to her sides. "You say that about me and I can't help but to remember the fact that you're still my friend and my First Officer regardless."
"Then perhaps it would be in my best interest to reevaluate," Spock states coolly.
Jim jaw falls open and she laughs unbelievingly. "You are such a mean little Vulcan, you know that?" She makes an annoyed face at him before she turns and treks over to Prime Spock and Sarek. "Hello, Sarek. Hello, Spock," she greets politely.
"Jim," Prime Spock greets back with a small twitch of his lips and happy dark eyes.
"James. May I inquire on your welfare?" Sarek asks as he scans her and pointedly doesn't overlook the bruises on her arms and legs.
"I know what it looks like, but really, despite the bruises, I'm just fine," Jim swears with a reassuring grin.
"'Fine' has variable definitions, James. 'Fine' is unacceptable, even by human standards," Sarek states with a dissatisfied frown. "You have a depraved habit of placing yourself in unsavory conditions. It is enough cause to worry."
"I'm okay!" Jim exclaims with exasperated fondness. "And I don't purposefully put myself in such risky situations. It just happens to happen to me more than others."
"Perhaps," Sarek concedes, but only barely. "We will continue this discussion within my marquee. Your cheeks indicate that you have not properly prepared your skin against the exposure of the sun. It would be wise to lead you to shelter until further accommodations may be made."
Jim waits until his back is turned before she makes a face and crosses her arms childishly.
"That is impolite," Spock murmurs, low enough that only she can hear but she still jumps in surprise.
"God, don't do that!" Jim hisses. "You're going to give me a heart attack."
"That would be most unfortunate," Spock dispassionately replies, as though he's merely humoring her. "I will endeavor to vocalize my presence, should I note that you are previously unaware."
Jim just narrows her eyes at him and rolls her eyes in a direction that doesn't have him in it. She's distracted a moment later by all the curious stares she receives from the wandering Vulcans in the midst of the camp. She can't help but to wonder what they must be thinking about her. She's so busy silently worrying about it that it takes her a moment to realize that they've arrived at Sarek's tent, and the three Vulcans are looking at her expectantly as they stand on either side of the opening of the tent.
"I'm not going in first, so I don't know what you're waiting for," Jim simply says as she furrows her eyebrows and waits for one of them to move.
Sarek doesn't sigh in exasperation, but he does straighten his posture a bit more and enters his tent with minor reluctance.
Prime Spock follows with quiet amusement, as though he is used to this kind of behavior.
Spock, however, is stubborn enough to wait for Jim to move before he does.
Jim decides to be a little less difficult and enter the tent. She sighs in relief at the coolness the shelter of Sarek's tent offers her. She wipes the back of her hand across her damp forehead as she joins Sarek on the large carpet in the middle of the room that sits under a leveled table.
Spock sits beside his older counterpart on the other side of the table.
Along the edges of the table, there is a set up of teacups, small dishes and spoons. The iron teakettle sitting on the middle and has a steady stream of steam rising from its spout. Beside it is a basket of fruit and thin crackers.
Sarek picks up the kettle and pours everyone a cup. He uncaps the top off a small bowl and reveals honey cubes, offering it to Jim. "I am given to understand that humans enjoy sweeteners with their drinks. I have taken the liberty to acquire some from the Jarada in preparation of your arrival."
"That's really thoughtful. Thanks," Jim says.
"She does not drink tea," Spock clarifies without being prompted and carefully extracts the cup set before her and sets it beside his own. "I will drink it, however, so that it may not be wasted."
Sarek inclines his head and does not comment on the matter, surprisingly enough, as he begins to drink his own cup.
"I do like this," Jim says, making a vague indication around them as she unlaces her boots and takes them off. She flexes her plum painted toes in relief before she tucks her legs under her like a pretzel. "This is really cozy," she goes on to say as she glances around the tent.
"It is suitable," Sarek merely replies over the rim of his cup. "Impermanent dwellings customarily are."
"Well I'm sure, but this is pretty nice. I hope mine looks as decent," Jim admits.
"You have plans to stay on the grounds?" Prime Spock questions as he lowers his cup.
"Yeah," Jim simply says. She leans forward and steals a cracker and a green apple. "Why wouldn't I? I'm responsible for a lot of people out there. So I think it's best if I stay in the mix of it all."
"A sound judgment," Sarek approves and Jim grins against her apple after she takes a bite. "You recently acquired time off. I am told you spent the duration of it traveling."
"Yup," Jim says, covering her mouth with a hand as she chews. "I did a bit of cross-continental beach hopping. I like to surf, and in my line of work, I'm unsure when I'm going to get the opportunity. Plus I just can't sit still for long periods of time. I have to be out and about, and I really do enjoy traveling."
"You do have a inclination to gesticulate," Prime Spock notes, and Jim has a feeling that she is being silently laughed at. "Though I suspect this quality has made you more than suited to your current job title."
Jim snorts, takes another bite of her apple and gives an agreeable shrug. "Tell me a bit about this planet. What should I expect?"
"The days are long, and the sun inhabits the sky well into the late evening hour," Sarek says. "The temperature remains elevated, even in the wake of the sun's departure. There are no seasonal changes and no moons."
Jim chews thoughtfully for a moment before she says, "So does it never rain or snow or anything? Any type of climate changes?"
"None that we have taken note of. It is a particularly mild planet," Prime Spock says. "The environment is very suitable for residence and will sustain life-forms for a promising millennia, and perhaps beyond."
"That's good," Jim decides. "I'd hate for you to have to leave after being settled. And what about the land? Is it fertile?"
"Despite appearances, it is uniquely fertile, needing only minor prompting for vegetation development," Sarek replies as he sets his cup down.
"But it doesn't rain," Jim points out. "Isn't that going to put a damper on things?"
"Not necessarily," Spock states. "The soil replenishes itself-suggesting that it pulls from an original water source that we have yet to locate."
"We have sent scourers to locate the source, so that we may in turn have sustainable access as well," Sarek clarifies. "By this time tomorrow, they will have returned and we will know."
"What about the construction? What's being built first?" Jim asks as she finishes off the rest of her apple and sets the core on her empty plate.
"We have anticipated the construct of a new Vre'katra, or Katric Ark," Prime Spock comments. "When we have settled the matter of the proper preservation of our heritage and culture, we can move forward in many ways."
Jim makes a thoughtful sound as she plucks a few crackers from the basket. She then lifts her gaze and gives Spock a pointed look.
Spock takes a final sip from his cup before he exchanges it for Jim's untouched cup. "There is a matter that Jim and I wanted to discuss," he says.
"And what is this matter precisely?" Sarek questions as he levels Spock with his gaze.
"The bond," Jim clarifies. "Is there a way to-effectively block both sides?"
Sarek shifts and he looks unhappy. "When will you learn that you can not deny the traditions of your origin, Spock?"
"Forgive me, father-but are you implying that my human genetics is cause for this inquiry?" Spock asks as he glares at Sarek. "Because if you are, you could not be further from the truth. This is a decision that we have equally established."
"You and James are t'hy'la," Sarek stresses. "It is a universally acknowledged fact among our people that there is no greater bond. Surely it is not the genetics you have inherited from me that seeks to dismantle it."
Spock stiffens and he says nothing. He flicks his gaze away and focuses on drinking Jim's untouched tea.
"We don't mean that we want it destroyed or anything," Jim tries, turning to Sarek as she tries to placate the situation. "I know there isn't a point, but perhaps, we could afford each other more privacy."
Sarek continues to gaze at his son with a dissatisfied frown before he turns his attention to Jim. "I do not blame you, James. You are not of our world, so you do not understand the dishonorable thing of which my son asks," he says.
"Actually, it was me who brought it up," Jim admits carefully. "And it's like Spock said. We've been discussing it over the summer, and its something we both want. I know that t'hy'la means friend, brother and lover. Spock and I are friends, so it still holds true. But someday we might find someone and want to spend the rest of our lives with that person. It would just be a comfort to know that the bond is shielded on either side. That's all we're asking."
Sarek says nothing.
"There are exercises that they could do to ensure the stabilization of certain shields," Prime Spock proposes. "I am familiar with the practice, and I would not mind aiding them."
"Very well," Sarek concedes, albeit reluctantly. "If this is what you both wish, I will not comment upon the matter. I do not approve, however."
"Sorry," Jim offers as she jams another cracker in her mouth. "But if Spock and I end up together by some freak occurrence, I will personally hand deliver an essay about how foolish and wrong I was and how I will never doubt your judgments again."
Sarek's dark eyes warm with fond amusement, and he says, "I will hold you to that, James."
Jim smiles as she pops a grape in her mouth. "So when can we start these exercises?" she asks, addressing Prime Spock.
"I am available tomorrow evening if it pleases you," Prime Spock replies.
"I'm fine with it," Jim says and flicks her blue eyes over to Spock. "How about you?"
"I will be available as well," Spock says.
"Great, then it's settled," Jim quips, then flushes when her stomach growls and causes all three Vulcans to flick their dark gazes to her as they simultaneously lift an eyebrow. "I kind of skipped breakfast?" she says with a sheepish scrunch of her nose.
"I will retrieve something," Prime Spock offers and stands. "I believe you will have need of a regenerator and some salve as well."
Jim's flush doesn't die off but she nods gratefully nonetheless.
"I will assist you," Spock says as he stands as well and follows his older counterpart out of the tent, leaving Sarek and Jim alone.
Jim plucks a few more grapes from the basket. "That was mean, you know," she says as she pops the grapes in her mouth one by one. "What you said to Spock. You know he's sensitive about his heredity."
"Indeed," Sarek acknowledges. "Perhaps I was callous with my words. I will apologize and attempt to consider his viewpoint more considerately."
"And," Jim goes on to say. "You should watch him when he's with the others."
"Others?" Sarek recants with a raised brow.
"Vulcans," Jim clarifies as she offers him a cracker. "I think they may be-giving him problems if you can catch my drift."
"I have noted his behavior as of late," Sarek confesses as he accepts the cracker from Jim, but he does not eat it. "Your concern is valid. In his youth, he experienced similar difficulties. There were those who felt inclined to verbalize their negative opinions of his human parentage periodically. I surmise the occasion has once again ensued. I have not witnessed such an interaction but I suspect they have occurred. Spock has made no indication, but his sullen behavior speaks for him."
Jim frowns unhappily as a spark of anger and sympathy sears lines into her heart and gut. "Maybe I should-"
"No, James," Sarek rebukes gently. "This is a conflict that only Spock can face."
"He shouldn't have to," Jim mutters as she crosses her arms. "I just feel that if I could-"
"You may not do anything that will compromise your stay on grounds," Sarek stresses in a way that says the discussion is over.
Jim's mouth fidgets and she doesn't press the issue. She just knows that if she gets the chance to do something she will. She's just unsure of how to go about it without ruffling anyone's feathers.
Prime Spock chooses this moment to enter, and he is alone. "Pardon my intrusion, but the Vulcan Council has called a meeting that we are required to attend," he says. "Jim, you will find your food in wait with my younger counterpart. His marquee can be found on the edge of camp, just west from here."
"Okay," Jim says as she stands. "I guess I will be seeing you, Sarek."
"Indeed," Sarek confirms.
Jim smiles at him before she slips past Spock with a, "See you tomorrow evening."
Prime Spock's dark eyes go warm and he inclines his head.
The sun hits Jim with unforgiving rays of heat that cause her forehead to immediately break out in a sweat. She licks her dry lips as she walks west to the edge of the camp. But midway there, she hears a bit of commotion, and when she goes to check it out she finds that a group of Vulcan preteens are chucking stones at a dark-skinned Vulcan female who is hunched in a ball on the ground.
"Kroykah!" Jim says, pulling from what little Vulcan she does know to get them to stop.
They do halt and turn around to face her with stoic expressions and furrowed brows.
"What are you doing?" Jim questions as she approaches them.
"It does not concern you, tfi-kien," a boy wearing burnt sienna colored robes says. He must be the leader of the group.
"It does when you're behaving unreasonably," Jim retorts with a stern frown. She eyes the rest of the group. "Should I inform your parents of the situation? I do have time to spare after all."
The preteens look at each other, then they drop the stones in their hands before they disperse.
The boy glares coldly at Jim before he too leaves.
Jim sighs as she turns back to the girl on the ground. She crouches down and cocks her head. "It's okay. They're all gone now."
The girl lifts her head and there are green bruises and scuffs on her face where she's clearly been hit with a rock. She blinks but does not stir.
"How old are you?"
"I am thirteen summers starting today," she says.
Jim frowns, "Today is your birthday and you're being badgered by a group of punks? Well that's no good. What's your name?"
"I am called T'Khut, ma'am," she replies.
"My name is Jim, not ma'am," Jim softly corrects as she gives T'Khut a friendly smile. "May I ask why they were doing what they did?"
T'Khut gazes at Jim for a long moment before she says, "They find my parentage unacceptable. My father was a Romulan, and my mother was a Vulcan."
"Was, as in-they are no longer…" Jim trails off.
"Affirmative," T'Khut says. "They perished in the destruction of Vulcan. I was saved-they were not."
"I'm sorry," Jim says. "That can't be easy."
"I will adapt," T'Khut says as she gathers herself to her feet. "Excuse me, Jim. My grandmother will worry if I do not arrive at our marquee in the time she has designated."
"Sure," Jim says as she stands as well. "Would you like me to escort you?"
"Negative. You have been accommodating enough," T'Khut replies and inclines her head before she goes about her way without a fuss.
Jim watches as she disappears between the tents, feeling vaguely reminded of Spock. She turns away and pauses when she notices a medium-sized sketchbook lying on the ground. When she picks it up and opens it, she finds detailed drawings of a variety of things-plants, animals, people, constellations, and self-portraits that include T'Khut with her parents. Jim tucks it under her arm and makes a mental note to return it to T'Khut when she gets the chance. She finds Spock's tent easily enough.
Spock looks up at her entrance with a curious frown from his position on the floor beside a leveled table. His living quarters mirrors his father's and is generously large for just one person.
"I just ran into a group of Vulcan kids picking on someone," Jim reports as she sits on the other side of the table. "I'm not sure, but I think they were picking on her because her father was a Romulan-which wouldn't be farfetched since the downfall of Vulcan was caused by a Romulan. I didn't know there were Romulans on Vulcan."
"There are not, just one-his name was R'Imus," Spock vaguely explains. "If you are curious about the subject you will have to speak to the family, for it is not my place to speak on such matters."
"Yeah, alright," Jim sighs as she shows him T'Khut's sketchbook. "I have a feeling I might get to do that sooner rather than later. She dropped this. There are some really good drawings in here." She takes a moment to shake her head. "Poor girl-it's her birthday today."
"That is rather unfortunate," Spock agrees but he doesn't comment further. He slides a bowl of soup across the table to Jim. "I believe there will be a consumption site for humans once their camp is devised, but for the moment this is all that could be found."
"It's fine. Thank you," Jim says as she picks it up and cautiously takes a generous sip, happy to note that it is lukewarm. She finishes the whole thing in under seven minutes and sets the empty bowl on the table with a satisfied sigh. She notices that there is suntan lotion on the table beside a pen-shaped regenerator. She starts rubbing down her face, arms and legs with the lotion as Spock quietly works on whatever project he's working on with his PADD. In the midst of ridding herself of the last bruise on her leg, she pauses with a frown. "I forgot my shoes in your dad's tent," she mutters as she flexes her plum painted toes. "How did I not notice?"
"I am unsure," Spock answers in a distracted fashion. "Perhaps it is your contentment without them that inclines you to disregard them so easily. It is not uncommon."
Jim just snorts and lies back until she's facing the ceiling of the tent. She grabs the regenerator from off the table and begins to work on her arms. After she disposes of the last bruise, she rests the regenerator on her stomach before she laces her fingers behind her head.
She falls asleep embarrassingly fast.
When she dreams, she dreams that she is walking barefoot under a bright burning sun and over baking red sand. She doesn't leave footprints and there is nothing within sight on either side of her. It's just miles and miles of frozen waves of red sand.
Jim hears a caw and a shadow passes over her. When she looks up, there are ravens and vultures circling overhead. She stops and blinks sweat from her eyes as she pants. Her lungs feel tight and her throat feels bone dry. She swallows and yelps when she falls down into the darkness of a pit. She hits the base of it but she scrambles to her feet in fear, clawing at the walls in an attempt to climb out.
"Hello!" she yells as she looks up into the bright sky. "Please! Hello!"
A group of Vulcan preteens approach and form a circle around the mouth of the pit.
"Help me, please," Jim says as she swallows dryly.
They stare down at her with dark emotionless eyes and stoic expressions.
"Please!" Jim begs.
They lift their hands and begin to chuck enflamed rocks.
Jim cries out as she curls up into a ball in attempt to escape the batter of stones that sear her skin with pink scars.
They never cease, not even under her pleas. They keep chucking the enflamed stones down at her as they chant, "Tfi-kien! Tfi-kien! Tfi-kien! Tfi-kien!"
"Whore!"
"Monster!"
"Beloved pet of Kodos!"
Jim wakes with a wet gasp and springs upright as her heart sputters painfully before it picks up speed and knocks wildly against the walls of her ribcage. She trembles in the darkness of Spock's tent and notices that she is lying on his bed alone. She lifts shaky fingers to her wet cheeks before she scrubs her face dry and stumbles to her feet. She wraps her arms around herself as she quickly exits his tent, walking in an unknown destination. She looks up at the starry sky as she continues to tremble with a frown. When she's a good distance away from the camps, she flips open her communicator.
"Kirk to Enterprise. One to beam up."
"Aye, Captain."
Jim appears aboard her ship in a beam of light. She's surprised to see Bones standing beside the transporter station, waiting for her. Before she can ask, he marches up to her, wraps his hand around her forearm and yanks her right on down to sickbay. He tugs her into his office and shuts the door. He then bulldozes her into the seat on the other side of his desk before he sits down on the other side. He has this look on his face.
"What?" Jim sighs. "What is it this time? Just-out with it-I know it has to be something for you to put an end to this whole cold shoulder thing we've been giving each other."
The look stays.
Jim frowns, growing a little worried. "Bones? Seriously-what's the matter?" she asks. She crosses her ankles and ignores the urge to bolt. Usually by this time, he'd be twirling his tricorder all around her like some magical wand. Then glaring at her readings, and then at her if he found something wrong. For God sakes, she was in sickbay, unarmed and willing (well maybe not willing since Bones was the one who dragged her down here in the first place), but why wasn't he taking advantage of that?
Bones's face scrunches up with a mixture of confusion and apprehension. His lips tighten as he turns, marching to the far corner of the room where there is a rack of bottles of bourbon, and he grabs one, pulling it back over with him with two glasses. He slams the cups down and fills two fingers full in Jim's cup before he fills his cup to the rim.
Jim watches in surprise as he downs the whole cup in under a minute before he plops down in his chair and hides his face in the palms of his hands, and mutters for the next two minutes. His shoulders are shaking slightly. She doesn't say anything, but she watches him as she folds her hands over her lap with a deeper frown.
Bones slumps even more into himself, keeping his face hidden, but he speaks, "I'm gonna ask you somethin', Kid." He pauses briefly then goes on to say, "I'm gonna ask you somethin' real uncomfortable. And I know we had a whole argument about this not too long ago, but I need you to be straight with me."
Jim crosses her arms. "What?" she asks with confusion. "I thought I've been pretty open about a lot of things."
Bones sighs shakily and straightens. "No-not about this-you-" He seems to be fumbling with his words. "You never talked-never mentioned-I mean, Christ, Jim..."
Jim feels a small bit of agitation as she uses her fingers to comb her blonde bangs from her face. "Bones, will you just say what's bugging you? If you brought me down here to prove some kind of point-"
Bones looks at her sharply, his hazel eyes are rimmed with red, and it makes Jim inhale sharply.
"Bones-have you been crying?" she asks, trying to remember if his eyes had been that way since he marched onto the transporter pad and (quite insistently) dragged her out.
Bones grunts at the question and turns his head, looking at some unknown point on the other end of the room. He crosses his arms defensively. "A few years back, when I got into this medical game, there was a discussion about childhood trauma, and the extent of it." He glances at Jim briefly before looking away. "Did you know that the Federation allows people to alter their medical records and take things out they don't want known? Depending on where off-planet it might'a happened and how severe that childhood trauma was. They can twist and turn it anyway they like. It's sickening really, givin' people that kind of power, not that I don't understand it from their view, but it's important I think, in case some kind of condition or illness hits them. Maybe what they altered could have saved their lives when they needed it most."
Jim cocks her head but remains silent.
"The first time I looked at your medical records, it was-confusing," Bones says carefully. "It made me think of that discussion, and so I didn't pry, didn't want to. I figured you'd tell me when it mattered. Guess I was wrong to leave it alone, cause I got this inclination it matters now. And before you get defensive about what I have to say, you need to know that as your physician, I have every right to get to the bottom of any vague details in your medical record."
"I'm not the one acting defensive right now," Jim points out calmly, lacing her fingers together over her lap.
Bones scowls and meets her eye. "Oh I'm willin' to bet my whole stash of good bourbon that you'll be kickin' and screamin' by the time I get a real answer outta you," he says confidently.
Jim throws up her hands with a shrug. She doesn't know where the hell this is going. Talk about beating around the bush; Jim feels like Bones is beating around the whole damn amazon.
"It's crazy that you showed up on this ship when you did because I was just about to track you down," Bones admits. "I happened to overhear a conversation between some of the new crewmembers as I was doing some standard physicals a two days back. And I don't even know why I even entertained the rumor in the first place-but damn it, Jim, if it wasn't a coincidence."
"Please," Jim sighs, as patiently as she can at this point. "Please, just enlighten me, Bones. What exactly is your case?"
Bones drops his gaze and fiddles with his tricorder, which is weird for him because Leonard H. McCoy doesn't fiddle. "Jim," he slowly starts. "Why didn't you tell me about Tarsus?"
Jim pales and looks ready to bolt.
Bones is on his feet in a second. "Don't you even think on it! I'll sedate you if I have to. You're not leavin' this room," he barks. "You will tell me why."
Jim clamps her mouth shut defiantly and crosses her arms.
Bones continues to stand with his arms crossed and glares at her. "Do you know what it's like to put all those little missin' pieces of your medical history together, and come to that conclusion? And because of a rumor no less, a goddamn rumor."
Jim frowns in confusion. "Rumor? What rumor?"
Bones sits down and looks upset and wary. "These officers I mentioned before-they were talking about a string of murders that occurred within the last two years. There were no links between the murders until an anonymous tip pointed out the fact that they were all Tarsus survivors." He shifts in his seat. "They never said your name, Jim, but it was heavily implied because on of the officers knew of some story an old buddy back at the academy told him about Governor Kodos and his adopted daughter. She apparently looked just like you, and was the main reason he was put away for a long time. Or was supposed to be-he escaped some odd years later and no one knows where he is. Well, not exactly because this is where the rumor gets really strange. There's some officer named Riley that supposed knows where he is, but he's been written off as crazy."
Jim wants to swallow her own tongue. Her hands are shaking.
"Jim," Bones says. "I need to know. If these rumors are true, you could be in danger. Please. This is hard enough."
Jim lowers her gaze to her bare feet, shoulders tense and taunt with anger and fear. "Well I'm sure it must have been real hard on you, Bones, to figure out how fucked my life really is," she mutters in response.
"Don't pander to me, Kid," Bones snaps. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Jim wraps her arms around herself and keeps her head bowed. "What was I supposed to say?"
"How about, 'Well, you may need to know that I was there, just in case I'm bleedin' all over the place and you can't seem to figure out why because I took some information out that could have been of use to fixin' me'."
Jim scowls at her feet. "Yeah, Bones, cause that totally sounds like me," she replies sarcastically. "Let's just be real for a second. Who the fuck in their right mind would admit to-being apart of that?"
"Someone who's sensible enough to know that it might come back and bite them in the ass, especially when a fucking rumor circulates on their ship about the man responsible for that fucking horror story, and how he may still be alive and free and plotting your demise," Bones grouches. "And don't tell me you're not affected. Your hands have been shaking ever since I mentioned it. I've noticed."
Jim frowns. "God, you watch me like a hawk, and irritate the fuck out of me," she mutters.
Bones huffs. "Likewise."
Jim sags a little further with a sigh and rubs the back of her neck. "I didn't know how you'd react, Bones. No one likes hearing about that story, it's-I don't know. I don't know-I swore to myself a long time ago that I'd never talk about that part of my life. So don't take it personally." She lifts her head and finally meets his gaze. "What happened there-I just-I couldn't let you share that nightmare with me."
Bones glares. "That's not for you to decide. And I'm sure ole pointy-ears know all about it doesn't he?"
"Please don't start that, Bones. Not about this," Jim contends. "You've already been crying about it-something I didn't want to happen-but now you know. No point in learning the gory details."
"I want to help, Jim. You can't deal with this alone, you've done it for far too long as is," Bones says.
Jim gives a one-shouldered shrug and studies her nails. "I actually don't think about it."
"Bullshit."
She shrugs again.
"Talk to me," Bones insists.
Another shrug.
Bones sighs and sits back in his chair. "If you wont talk to me as your doctor, at least do it for me as your friend."
Jim looks at him sharply before she looks away. "You haven't been too interested in being my friend lately. What would be the point now?"
"Because I'll tell you about my father if you tell me about Tarsus," Bones says and waits patiently.
Jim fidgets and studies the tiny loose thread in her gold uniform dress.
"I've got all night to wait, and I will," Bones warns.
Jim feels her mouth sag unhappily and she takes a chance at glancing around. "I don't think-"
Bones interjects, "Already took care of it. Just me and you, Kid. I made sure of that."
Jim glares. "You can't do that. What if there's an emergency?"
Bones lifts an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I can. Last I heard, I was CMO. And as CMO I'm seein' to somethin' that I find more important than any medical emergency-and it just so happens to be the health of this ship's Captain. And if need be, I told my staff they'd just do house calls if assistance was required," he explains, not looking the least bit sorry for it.
Jim is quieted by his confession.
Bones stands and moves around his desk until he's sitting down in the chair beside hers. He leans forward and reaches out to grab her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I'm right here, Jim. I'm right here and I'll be damned if I go anywhere else-not when my best friend needs me."
Jim looks away, unable to take how deep those words cut into her jaded heart and she allows herself one small wry smile. "I hate you," she whispers, no bite in her words at all. "I-so much, Bones."
"Pull the other, Kid, cause I'm not buyin'," Bones rumbles, squeezing her hand gently once more.
Jim closes her eyes. She can hear it in his voice. He's determined to know. "I don't know where to start," she mutters.
"Anywhere'll do."
Jim chuckles bitterly and shakes her head. She exhales slowly and quietly as her eyes open and meets his. "I hope you have a bucket near."
Bones frowns. His hazel eyes are riddled with disapproval. "Jim-"
"No I mean it, Bones," Jim says, shaking her head sternly. "What I have to say-even you couldn't stomach it."
"Try me."
Jim eyes him, but Bones's face is set. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze back and exhales, ignoring the torrent twitching of her heart, which protested this confession heavily. "I was thirteen, Bones," she starts quietly. "Thirteen and unprepared." She stops for a moment and gazes towards his desk. She smiles sadly. "My dad had this cherry red corvette, and-well, it was the only thing left that I had of him. But even Winona's bastard brother seemed determined to take that from me. So I did what I do best." She shifts her gaze and meet's Bones's curious hazel eyes. "I fucked him over." She smirks bitterly. "I fucked him over so bad that he didn't think twice about taking me to Tarsus and leaving me there." She pauses again and shakes her head. "It happens like this-"
And she begins, putting an abrupt end to the vow she'd made years ago. A vow to never speak of what had really happened on Tarsus IV. And Bones quietly listens, even when he pales through most of the gory details-he just stays there, right beside her and squeezes her hand in comfort. She ends the tale on a shaky breath and accepts the tissues he hands to her so she can dry her pinkly wet cheeks. Her eyes feel swollen and her voice hoarse-it had been hard to talk without sobbing her guts out in the process.
"I'm sorry," Bones says as he wraps her in a comforting hug. "I appreciate you tellin' me."
Jim sniffs and nods silently into his shoulder.
"I want to tell you about my dad," Bones says gruffly as they pull away from each other. "I never wanted to tell you before because I didn't want you to think any lesser of me. I've always blamed myself for the way things happened."
Jim holds his hand this time and gives it a comforting squeeze.
Bones swallows and continues in a hoarse voice, "He contracted pyrrhoneuritis, a rare disease imported from colony worlds, right after I earned my M.D. on my twenty-first birthday. He was sixty at the time, but even before he got it he was still a quick and spry sonuvabitch." He pauses to chuckle fondly. "Used to drive my momma crazy. He couldn't be still. He always had to bounce around, saving lives, no matter the planet or the species. Momma just wanted him to retire already so they could kick their feet up in the Bahamas. But he just couldn't. He couldn't consider retirement." His eyes start to water over. "He rushed home to see me graduate, and I think even after I saw him I knew something was wrong. It wasn't until three months after he'd contracted the disease that we all knew things would take a turn for the worse. It wrecked my momma, more than anyone else I think. My dad had lost about a third of his body weight, was crippled, bedridden, and wracked with pain.
"Meanwhile I'm spending hours and hours at the local clinic tryin' to figure out a way to cure the damn disease. But I keep comin' up short and I'm loosin' sleep over it. I can barely eat or function without going over all the details a million times in hopes that there is somethin' I overlooked. But I couldn't find a thing all those three months he lay in pain. Finally, the agony became so unbearable, even with high doses of painkillers, he decided he couldn't take it anymore. He dragged this old rickety chair off the porch with what little strength he had and got some rope, went to the closest tree in the back and tied himself a knot. I-I was the one that found him. He was just swingin'-back and forth. Back and forth. And it was my fault. I couldn't save him. It tore me up, especially when some young hotshot halfway across the world figured out a cure just a mere two weeks after he first learned of it. I hated myself-hell I still kinda do."
"Bones," Jim says as she pulls him close. "Don't. Please. You're such a wonderful person I can't even begin to explain. Don't blame yourself. You did everything that you could."
Bones chuckles wetly and grabs a few tissues for himself. "I guess we both got some pretty sore issues in our past."
"Yeah," Jim agrees with a sigh. "Two peas in a fucked up pod."
Bones snorts wryly.
"I don't know about you, but I can really go for some ice cream," Jim announces cheerfully. She laces her fingers with his and pulls him to his feet. "Let's go down to the kitchens and gorge ourselves until we throw up."
"Sounds like a plan."
Jim smiles and pulls him along, ignoring the part of her that wants to tell him about her dream. She didn't want to worry him any further.
After they steal a few tubs of ice cream from the kitchens, they haul it back to Bones's quarters. They spread themselves out over his couch and work on emptying the cartons. They talk aimlessly and just enjoy each other's company.
With sticky fingers, and swelled stomachs, they lay in a tangled heep on his bed sometime in the middle of the night, enjoying the steady streams of silence that laces between them.
"Bones?"
"Hm?"
"I missed you."
"You too," Bones sighs into her hair. She can feel him falling asleep as she traces her fingers over his heart.
"Can we promise to never fight like that again?"
"Sure-don't know how well it'll hold though."
Jim snorts quietly and smiles to herself. "Hey, Bones, what was that name you said before? The one officer who knew where Kodos is?"
"Riley. Why? Jim-don't go-"
"Relax. I just wanted to know, I'm not going to do anything," Jim lies.
Bones just sniffs and huddles in closer to her as his breathing evens out.
Jim waits a good hour before she carefully detangles herself from his arms and legs. She tiptoes to his work desk and quietly rifles through his drawers for his PADD.
When she finds it, she enters a ghosting code before she hacks into the Federation's databanks. She extracts a few files and documents in relation to Tarsus and the lists of survivors. She takes her time reading into each person's file and reads up on them. She comes to a disturbing conclusion-the rumor that Bones heard had some truth to it.
Kodos is MIA and has been for the past two years but believed, somehow, to be deceased.
And the most disturbing of all-thirteen of the fifty survivors are dead.
She finds no sleep that night.
Chapter Two
Author's Note: Need comments. Worked hard on this one.