Star Trek (reboot) fic: Acceptable Risks
Title: Acceptable Risks
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!
A/N: For sockie1000, as a belated birthday gift. With thanks to lena7142 for the beta. This also fills the "slaves" square on my h/c bingo card.
Summary: McCoy stages a rescue; it doesn’t go so well.
-o-
His head hurt.
This wasn’t necessarily an uncommon affliction for him. Since being assigned to the Enterprise, McCoy had suffered chronically from tension headaches. It might have been cause for concern in other circumstances, but when under the duty of one James Kirk, he figured there was really no other alternative. He couldn’t properly do his duty with any amount of diligence without feeling the constant pressure of certain near disaster.
Really, he was lucky it was just headaches.
But this wasn’t just a headache.
No, this was a persistent, deep throb. It radiated from the back of his head and extended down his neck. It made him hazy and distant, like his entire brain had been wrapped uncomfortably in an excess of cotton.
When he moved, the pain got worse, moving down his neck and throughout his body, igniting in his ribs and settling miserably in his wrist.
Then, he opened his eyes.
To look straight at Jim.
His captain grinned at him.
McCoy grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut again. “I’m in hell.”
Jim chuckled. “Not literally, but you’re pretty close,” he said. “You’re in a Dagonian Slave Cell.”
McCoy opened his eyes again, swallowing back a wave of nausea. “What happened?”
Jim shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Narrowing his eyes, McCoy worked to jog his memory. It was harder than it should have been, but it came back. With a punch.
A lot of punches. To his head, to his ribs -- before someone had slammed a foot on his wrist and kicked him in the head.
He winced. “I came to rescue you.”
Jim looked vaguely amused. “How’d that go for you?”
“Well, I didn’t have a lot of options!” McCoy protested indignantly. “You went off and got taken by damn slave traders, and I wasn’t just about to sit by the shuttle you totaled, waiting for a damn miracle that was probably not going to come for another week.”
Jim looked skeptical. “So you thought getting captured would make things better?”
McCoy grunted, shifting until he was sitting a little more upright against the wall. Their prison cell was small and poorly equipped. There was nothing but a hole in the ground and a sliver of light hanging from the ceiling. “Well,” he said, keeping his jaw tight to control the pain from what was undoubtedly broken ribs. “The plan was to get them to release you.”
Jim nodded earnestly, lingering close to McCoy. “And?”
McCoy scowled, tugging away from Jim’s noticeably protective touch. “And,” he said emphatically, “I tried paying them with everything I had, but apparently you’re a valuable commodity.”
Grinning wickedly, Jim winked. Despite being taken first, the captain seemed no worse for wear. He had a small gash above his eye, but he was acting normally and responding accurately. Which meant he was still an insufferable idiot. “At least they’re smart slave traders.”
McCoy was unamused. “They’re also void of reason and compassion.”
“Well, they are slave traders,” Jim said.
“I was giving them the benefit of the doubt,” McCoy said, feeling like sulking. He was entitled that, he thought. Given his probable concussion and the compound fracture in his wrist. Even so, his shoulders slumped and he looked up at Jim apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
Jim raised his eyebrow. “An apology?”
“Some of us do know how to admit when we’re wrong,” McCoy replied curtly.
Jim’s smile returned, more wicked than before. “Some of us are just never wrong.”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “You’re the idiot who got captured in the first place!”
“Well, sure,” Jim said. “It was sort of inevitable.”
“Inevitable,” McCoy repeated in disbelief. “How does getting taken by slave traders constitute an inevitable conclusion?”
“Well, when I realized that the reason we didn’t have communications was that they had a dampening field in effect, I broke in and sent in a message,” Jim said. “Sending the message was easy enough, but there was no clean exit. I figured they couldn’t arrange a sale for us before the Enterprise got here, so I knew that it was an acceptable risk. Spend a few days in a slave cell before Spock comes blasting through those doors to take us home.”
McCoy stared, suddenly feeling stupid. His cheeks reddened and his anger spiked. “You should have told me!”
“It was sort of a spur of the moment thing.”
“I got beaten and captured by slave traders for you!”
“And I’m impressed!” Jim said. “I didn’t expect you to be so pushy on that point.”
“You thought I’d leave you to get sold?” McCoy asked, offended.
“I thought you’d use prudence,” Jim said.
“Oh, like you do?”
“Well, damn it, Bones,” Jim said. “You’re a doctor, not a captain.”
McCoy’s frown deepened. “Isn’t that my line?”
“Seems like you may have forgotten, all things considered,” Jim said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
McCoy groaned, rolling away and clutching his ribs. “With you around,” he grumbled. “Never.”
Jim laughed again, squeezing McCoy reassuringly on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, the Enterprise should be here in a day or two.”
“A day or two?” McCoy asked. “Locked in a small cell with you. Sounds like torture. I think I’d rather be sold into slavery.”
“That’d be a lot more convincing if you didn’t almost get killed trying to save me,” Jim told him.
McCoy glowered. “Never again.”
“Whatever you say, Bones,” Jim said with another reassuring squeeze. “Whatever you say.”
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!
A/N: For sockie1000, as a belated birthday gift. With thanks to lena7142 for the beta. This also fills the "slaves" square on my h/c bingo card.
Summary: McCoy stages a rescue; it doesn’t go so well.
-o-
His head hurt.
This wasn’t necessarily an uncommon affliction for him. Since being assigned to the Enterprise, McCoy had suffered chronically from tension headaches. It might have been cause for concern in other circumstances, but when under the duty of one James Kirk, he figured there was really no other alternative. He couldn’t properly do his duty with any amount of diligence without feeling the constant pressure of certain near disaster.
Really, he was lucky it was just headaches.
But this wasn’t just a headache.
No, this was a persistent, deep throb. It radiated from the back of his head and extended down his neck. It made him hazy and distant, like his entire brain had been wrapped uncomfortably in an excess of cotton.
When he moved, the pain got worse, moving down his neck and throughout his body, igniting in his ribs and settling miserably in his wrist.
Then, he opened his eyes.
To look straight at Jim.
His captain grinned at him.
McCoy grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut again. “I’m in hell.”
Jim chuckled. “Not literally, but you’re pretty close,” he said. “You’re in a Dagonian Slave Cell.”
McCoy opened his eyes again, swallowing back a wave of nausea. “What happened?”
Jim shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Narrowing his eyes, McCoy worked to jog his memory. It was harder than it should have been, but it came back. With a punch.
A lot of punches. To his head, to his ribs -- before someone had slammed a foot on his wrist and kicked him in the head.
He winced. “I came to rescue you.”
Jim looked vaguely amused. “How’d that go for you?”
“Well, I didn’t have a lot of options!” McCoy protested indignantly. “You went off and got taken by damn slave traders, and I wasn’t just about to sit by the shuttle you totaled, waiting for a damn miracle that was probably not going to come for another week.”
Jim looked skeptical. “So you thought getting captured would make things better?”
McCoy grunted, shifting until he was sitting a little more upright against the wall. Their prison cell was small and poorly equipped. There was nothing but a hole in the ground and a sliver of light hanging from the ceiling. “Well,” he said, keeping his jaw tight to control the pain from what was undoubtedly broken ribs. “The plan was to get them to release you.”
Jim nodded earnestly, lingering close to McCoy. “And?”
McCoy scowled, tugging away from Jim’s noticeably protective touch. “And,” he said emphatically, “I tried paying them with everything I had, but apparently you’re a valuable commodity.”
Grinning wickedly, Jim winked. Despite being taken first, the captain seemed no worse for wear. He had a small gash above his eye, but he was acting normally and responding accurately. Which meant he was still an insufferable idiot. “At least they’re smart slave traders.”
McCoy was unamused. “They’re also void of reason and compassion.”
“Well, they are slave traders,” Jim said.
“I was giving them the benefit of the doubt,” McCoy said, feeling like sulking. He was entitled that, he thought. Given his probable concussion and the compound fracture in his wrist. Even so, his shoulders slumped and he looked up at Jim apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
Jim raised his eyebrow. “An apology?”
“Some of us do know how to admit when we’re wrong,” McCoy replied curtly.
Jim’s smile returned, more wicked than before. “Some of us are just never wrong.”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “You’re the idiot who got captured in the first place!”
“Well, sure,” Jim said. “It was sort of inevitable.”
“Inevitable,” McCoy repeated in disbelief. “How does getting taken by slave traders constitute an inevitable conclusion?”
“Well, when I realized that the reason we didn’t have communications was that they had a dampening field in effect, I broke in and sent in a message,” Jim said. “Sending the message was easy enough, but there was no clean exit. I figured they couldn’t arrange a sale for us before the Enterprise got here, so I knew that it was an acceptable risk. Spend a few days in a slave cell before Spock comes blasting through those doors to take us home.”
McCoy stared, suddenly feeling stupid. His cheeks reddened and his anger spiked. “You should have told me!”
“It was sort of a spur of the moment thing.”
“I got beaten and captured by slave traders for you!”
“And I’m impressed!” Jim said. “I didn’t expect you to be so pushy on that point.”
“You thought I’d leave you to get sold?” McCoy asked, offended.
“I thought you’d use prudence,” Jim said.
“Oh, like you do?”
“Well, damn it, Bones,” Jim said. “You’re a doctor, not a captain.”
McCoy’s frown deepened. “Isn’t that my line?”
“Seems like you may have forgotten, all things considered,” Jim said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
McCoy groaned, rolling away and clutching his ribs. “With you around,” he grumbled. “Never.”
Jim laughed again, squeezing McCoy reassuringly on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, the Enterprise should be here in a day or two.”
“A day or two?” McCoy asked. “Locked in a small cell with you. Sounds like torture. I think I’d rather be sold into slavery.”
“That’d be a lot more convincing if you didn’t almost get killed trying to save me,” Jim told him.
McCoy glowered. “Never again.”
“Whatever you say, Bones,” Jim said with another reassuring squeeze. “Whatever you say.”