Fic: Shades of Grey, Chapter 3
Author's Note: I admit I was apprehensive to write this piece, since I wasn't sure if I could carry a child's voice for an entire story, but I think it's coming along okay. Stylistically speaking, this isn't my favorite chapter because I think the others were better written, but I thought it was fun none the less. And since this story just keeps on growing, I've also reworked the plot a bit to fit some new tribbles that attacked me on Monday while I was processing some Roth IRA paperwork. As Bones would say, "Oneshot my ass." And therein lies my problem. Short is not my thing. I need to stop trying to do it, since single scene stories always wind up in either a giant bucket of fail, or morphing into things like this. Anyway, enjoy.
Disclaimer: They're still not mine. Don't sue.
Chapter: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6A | 6B |
Chapter 3
Mornings were not Leonard McCoy's thing. He did evenings well. He and late nights got on quite perfectly. Hell, he was even on speaking terms with mid-afternoon. But above all else, he hate mornings with a searing, burning passion. Dragging himself out a nice, warm bed at the ass crack of dawn was up on Len's list of likes right along with lion taming or flying in the front seat of a shuttle piloted by Kirk. Normally, his mornings consisted of being dead tired because he stumbled in to his room at oh-dark-thirty after working a long shift at the hospital that directly followed his classes. If he got three hours' sleep, McCoy normally considered that a small victory, caffeinated, and dealt with the injustice of it all.
It was a curious feeling to wake up feeling rested and relaxed as he did the morning after Joanna's arrival. McCoy had become so accustomed to the perpetual state of exhaustion that any other feeling was foreign, and one that took some initial re-adjustment. Though Len hated to admit at any point in his life that Jim Kirk may have a valid point, he begrudgingly came to the conclusion that Jim was right: he needed to do something to de-stress. Seeing his daughter for the first time in two years seemed to have done the trick. Not only did he sleep through the night, he did so without the dreams that normally plagued him in his sleep. Though wouldn't quite classify them as nightmares, his dreams often tormented him, reminding the doctor often of what he'd lost. Joanna, McCoy theorized, appeared to have a calming presence, despite the fact she was nothing but a bundle of energy.
After dinner the night previous, the trio of one adult (McCoy) and two children (Kirk and Jo) found themselves at a local mini golf course. Jim insisted on the activity, much to the doctor's chagrin. What erupted could only be described as ridiculous and juvenile, with Jo and Jim ganging up on McCoy to splash him with as much water as possible with their clubs from the small water trap that ran around the course. Kirk was really pushing his luck, but Len tolerated it, just to see and hear his daughter laugh. By the time they started their walk back toward campus, Jo was fast asleep against Jim's shoulder, since she insisted she was too old to be carried by her father. Jim, on the other hand, was fair game when she finally tired enough to agree.
Len alternated between cursing Jim in every language he could think of for ruining yet another pair of shoes, and smiling in Jo's general direction. Splitting up at the quad, McCoy carefully peeled his daughter from Kirk's arms. They arrived back at their apartment, and after she cleaned herself up for bed, he commed Jocelyn to let Jo talk her mother. The little girl recounted her day animatedly, thankfully leaving out the portion about Kirk and his lewd message, though she did whine that she was denied ice cream. After putting Jo down for the night, McCoy hit the rack, satisfied with how the day went.
Blinking a few times to clear his vision, McCoy scrubbed one hand over his face as he sat up in bed. Yawning liberally as he staggered to the bathroom, Len tossed in a stretch of his shoulders and back for good measure. He splashed a little cold water on his face, examined his rather messy hair, brushed his teeth and took a leak, not necessarily in that order. When he was finished, he opened the door with a singular goal in mind: coffee, and coffee fast. But as he took one step out toward the kitchen, he nearly yelped in surprise.
Standing in front of him in her nightgown, Joanna was busy rubbing the sleep from her eyes. With a giant yawn and stretch, she said, "I have to go to the bathroom, Daddy."
McCoy snapped his jaw closed and silently moved out the way. He was happy that, in his semi-comatose morning state, he'd remembered to at least pull on a pair of gym shorts before exiting his bedroom. He wasn't sure Joanna would appreciate seeing her father half-naked in the morning. Tugging at his head in a futile effort to control some of the massive bedhead at which Kirk was so fond of poking fun, McCoy said, "Okay, Jo. Wash up when you're done, and I'll start some pancakes."
One more trait father and daughter appeared to share was their loathing for mornings, but as soon as the word 'pancakes' left Len's mouth, Joanna instantly perked up. Rocketing into the bathroom, Jo was a flurry of activity as she went about her morning business.
Shaking his head once again in amazement, McCoy padded into the kitchen, clicking on the vidscreen to a children's program on his way through. Perhaps it was a bit of the proud papa syndrome, but he couldn't help but marvel at how brilliant his daughter was. Not was she reading and comprehending at an age level much higher than her own, she was already growing to be somewhat self-sufficient. It was a very welcome surprise that, after only two years, Jo required nothing but simple reminders to do her everyday tasks.
He heard the door open as he was measuring out the pancake batter. Joanna bounced into the room, settling on the couch while she quietly waited for her breakfast. Len stuck his head around the corner, wanting to make sure she was behaving herself. In his experience, albeit limited, children who were silent were usually finding new and inventive ways to get into trouble, and he was certain Joanna was no exception. Happily, she seemed no more interested in anything other than watching the educational program that McCoy chose on his vidscreen flyby.
"Joanna? Breakfast is ready," Len said, dumping a healthy portion of syrup on the two pancakes he made for Jo. He knew there was a real likelihood he'd be paying later for allowing Jo to consume so much sugar with her breakfast, but he couldn't help but indulge her. Plus, it was breakfast. She'd burn it off before lunch, or so was the theory went.
Jo was up off the couch and at the table without her feet hitting the ground. She dived into her food, syrup flying in every direction. McCoy grabbed his own plate and sat down in front of her, pushing a small glass of orange juice in her direction. He cut a chunk from his stack and shoved it in his mouth. For once, he could eat like a civilized human being at an appropriate rate, since Jim wasn't there to steal his food off his plate. "Good?" he asked with a raise of his right eyebrow. It was more a rhetorical question than an actual one.
"Mmm-hmm," Jo mumbled, her mouth full of pancakes and orange juice.
The truly wonderful thing about children was that they seemed to be perfectly happy if sweet food was somehow involved. McCoy took full advantage of the so-called quiet time to contemplate the day's activities. There was one thing he had been ordered to do while Joanna visited, and he'd prefer to get it done sooner rather than later. Taking a drink from his coffee mug, Len said, "So, Jo? I was wondering if you'd be up to meeting another friend of mine today."
The little girl shrugged. Kirk wasn't a bad guy, and Jo decided that she rather liked spending time with him. Hopefully, this new person would be just as awesome as Jim. "'Kay. Is it far away?"
Laughing, McCoy responded, "No, Jojo. It's just across campus. This friend of mine, he's a captain. Do you know what that means?"
Joanna shook her head.
"It means he's a very important person, so I need you to behave when we're there. Do you know how your mommy and I are in charge of you, making sure you do everything right, you eat your food, and you don't hurt other people?" McCoy asked, as seriously as he could.
Joanna's face contorted into a scowl. She hated being addressed as if she was an infant in the way her father was doing now. Normally, 'little kid speak' was code for, 'Please don't screw this up,' from her parents. Jo rolled her eyes. Yes, of course she was aware that her parents were the ones 'in charge' so to speak, a fact that sometimes irritated the independent little girl. It didn't mean she couldn't manipulate the situation to her advantage, but she did understand the principles behind it. It didn't mean she had to like it. Dutifully, she said, "Yes, Daddy."
Len nodded, wiping some syrup off his lips with the napkin he snagged off the kitchen counter. "Well, this friend of mine is named Captain Pike, and he's in charge of me like your mom and I are in charge of you."
"So he tells you when you have to go to the bathroom?" she asked, fork hovering halfway to her mouth. A nice little pile of syrup was forming underneath as the sticky substance dripped off the edge of the pancake.
He should have known better than to use that sort of analogy with his literally minded daughter. Rolling his eyes and guiding the fork back over his daughter's plate, McCoy sarcastically said, "Yes, Jo. Captain Pike tells me when I should go to the bathroom." Sighing, Len realized it would be funnier if what Jo said weren't so true, but such was life in the military.
"Oh," she replied. "That's nice."
With a purse of his lips, Len folded his hands on the table and said, "Jo, this is serious. I really need you to behave today." McCoy cringed internally as he thought about what Captain Pike might say if Jo asked him the same question she asked Kirk the night before. He really wasn't looking forward to spending his first posting on some distant starbase in a forgotten corner of the galaxy because his daughter pissed off Starfleet Academy's head disciplinarian.
Joanna put her fork down, finished with her food. She looked up and cocked her head to the side. She knew that look on her father's face. She'd seen it before from her mother, the one Jo would get when there was something important coming up. "Why do we have to go anyway?"
"Because Captain Pike helped me with some arrangements so we could spend time together this week," Len answered, leaving out some of the more sordid details. Joanna didn't need to know that it was Pike who commed Jocelyn in order to facilitate a more healthy relationship between parents. "I thought the least you and I could do is to say thank you."
Joanna growled lightly, the sound causing McCoy to double take. It was the same one he often made when Jim was involved. Resigned, Joanna felt properly chastised, though she was entirely unsure as to what she did wrong. She realized she'd said something that made her dad uncomfortable at dinner the night previous, but since no one would explain in to her, she wasn't sure why she was wrong. Now, she was being scolded for something she might do, and that was just wholly unfair. Tapping her fingers on the table edge, she pouted, "Okay. I'll be good."
Skeptically, Len gave his daughter the once over. He'd discovered in just a few short hours that, though she was incredibly smart, Jo was still a typical child in most other ways. She leapt before she looked, and blurted things out without thinking through any type of consequences her words might have. It wasn't as if he expected her to have developed adult foresight at six, but it wouldn't be a terrible thing to have a little brain to mouth filter. Innate curiousness was probably not a valid excuse Pike would accept should Joanna insult the captain's rank, sexual preference, mother or favorite food. But, the scowly acquiescence he got from Jo was probably as good as he was going to get, so McCoy took it, sent a prayer heavenward, and hoped for the best.
Taking in Jo's sticky fingers and the mess she'd made of her place at the table, Len heaved himself out of the chair and began collecting the syrup-encrusted dishes. He literally had to peel Joanna's plate from the table, the dish giving with a pop when the suction the syrup made gave way. In a small bit of consolation, at least her plate was empty. After he dumped the dirty dishes in sink, McCoy turned and said, "Now, are you done? If you are, we need to get you cleaned up so we can go. The captain is a busy man, and I don't want to keep him waiting."
The little girl nodded. Hopping off the chair, Joanna made her way over to the sink where her father lifted her up. He helped her wash her hands and wiped her face with a washcloth. Setting her down, McCoy rinsed his own hands and then dried them on the dish towel. "Jo, why don't you go pick out some clothes, and then get dressed."
Hesitating, Joanna bit her lip. It was a definite personality switch from the confident little girl. In a quiet voice, she said, "Mommy helps me with that." Indeed, the daily routine of clothing selection had become a bit of a tradition shared between Jocelyn and Joanna, and was really the only bout of homesickness she'd experienced thus far during her visit.
Oh. Well that was a bit of a surprise. Scratching his head, McCoy asked hesitantly, "Do you think I could help you with that today?" Internally, he cringed at the thought of what Joanna might pick out, or worse, what he'd choose. Kirk always told him he had the fashion sense of a blind man, with what the way Len always grabbed clothes at random and threw them on. McCoy always responded that beggars couldn't be choosers when in the medical field. He wore what was functional, what was comfortable, and most importantly, what wasn't covered by blood or vomit.
"I don't want foo-foo," Joanna stated, placing one hand on her hip and tapping her foot. "I don't like it. Mommy makes me wear it, and I feel dumb in it."
Laughing, Len replied, "Okay. No foo-foo. Got it." He followed his daughter into her bedroom and went to the closet where he'd hung her clothes. Opening it, he pulled out a pair of jeans and a purple hoodie with a cream colored undershirt and held it out for inspection. "What do you think?"
Jo wrinkled her nose. "It's okay, I guess."
"Well what's wrong with it?" he asked, surprised. Turning the garments around, he inspected them. There were no flowers, hearts, stars, or anything otherwise that could construed as girly on the pants or sweatshirt. Both were clean, simple and functional. Len was at a loss as to what could possibly make Joanna dislike what he'd chosen and what Jocelyn sent.
"They're girly colors, and I'm tired of girly colors," Joanna whined. "Mommy won't listen to me on that. She says that little girls need to look pretty all the time, but I think that's stupid. I want to play in the dirt, not wear dresses." She sat back down on her bed, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the offending clothes.
Pursing his lips, he cocked a finger in Joanna's direction. With a crooked smile, he said, "Come with me, Jo. I have something I think you might like." He led Jo to his bedroom, dug to the bottom of the dresser of his drawer and pulled out a small wrapped package. He handed it to her and smiled. "I was going to wait to give this to you, since I didn't know if you'd like it. But here. Let's see what you think."
Jo snatched the package from his hands and scurried to climb up on the bed. "Can I open it?" she asked, bouncing. At Len's nod, the little girl literally tore the paper off, bits and pieces flying in every single direction. She opened the box to reveal a pint-sized Ole Miss football jersey. Len had it numbered for effect, choosing 10 in honor the Mannings and the deep-set tradition the family had with the school. With careful fingers, Joanna lifted the garment by the neckline and held it out in front of her. The entire time, she said nary a word.
The little girl's face went blank, and for a second, Len thought he was about to be treated with the biggest, most explosive temper tantrum the world had ever seen. Panic began to form in his throat while his brain spun a million different responses to her inevitable meltdown. How could he have read that so wrong? What if she locked herself in her room all weekend and refused to talk to him? What if she commed Jocelyn to come pick her up? What if? McCoy's brain second guessed every decision he made in the few short hours he'd been entrusted with Joanna's care. Shaking his head, Len mentally cursed himself for his own stupidity. Jo was a girl, and even though she claimed to dislike 'girly' things, this was probably over the line. Little girls didn't wear football jerseys. They wore pink, and used nail polish. "It's okay if you don't like it. You can tell me, and you're not going to hurt my feelings."
Joanna gripped the jersey tight in her tiny fists and cocked her head to the side as McCoy rambled on. She cut her father off by leaping off the bed and into his arms. With a gigantic smile on her face, she practically squeaked, "Daddy!"
Shocked, Len struggled to pick his jaw up off the floor. Wait. She wasn't mad? Pleasantly surprised, he fought to find the right words, instead settling on an incredulous, "Jo? You like it?"
Nodding so vigorously Len was sure she'd cracked one of the vertebrae in her neck, she wormed her way out of his arms, practically bouncing around the room. Dancing with her new gift, Jo exclaimed, "I love it! I love it! It's so cool! And it's even got a number on it!"
"Yeah, the number covers about eight people through the past 300 years of players at that school, so I think you're good, Jo," McCoy quipped, pointing toward the name emblazoned in white tackle twill on the back of Joanna's jersey. It wasn't as if he felt she'd have any concept of the magnitude of the Manning family, but he'd purposely picked one of his favorites. Len also knew it was one number that was popular with the majority of the Ole Miss alumni, and he figured he couldn't really lose with a rather ubiquitous football family. "You're okay with it? Really?"
"I like it," Jo proclaimed, fixing McCoy with a pointed stare. It was genuine; she hadn't yet learned how to lie that convincingly.
Laughing in relief, Len plopped down on his bed. He ran one hand through his still-messy hair and breathed out a giant sigh. He honestly wasn't sure what he would have done had Joanna thrown a mega tantrum short of calling Jim, and that, for the part of him that was at least somewhat male, was not a viable option. Apparently, he still had a lot to learn about his daughter's likes and dislikes; though it was nice he was treated to the positive outcome of that guessing game instead of the negative. 'If you have a lot to learn, whose fault is that? Not just Jocelyn's,' Len mentally berated himself. The thought that he knew next to nothing about his own flesh and blood made him stop, and a lump formed in his throat.
Len let his eyes slip over to where Joanna was still dancing about the room, babbling with glee to no one in particular. Though she seemed like a happy, well-adjusted child, the doctor had to remind himself what he'd missed in the last two or so years. So much of Joanna's personality developed while he was conspicuously absent, and that thought did not sit well in the pit of his stomach. He was certainly happy he and Jocelyn began to slow process to iron out their relationship enough to be parents together, but he reminded himself that he'd be limited to comm chats and letters once he graduated and received his first posting. But that was a thought for another day, and McCoy forcibly shoved the plaguing self-doubt to the back of his mind. While she was here, in front of him, Len was determined to soak in Joanna's joy over such a small gift.
Unaware of her father's introspection, Joanna's mouth worked a mile a minute. She was listing the reasons why she loved her new gift, and she even managed to complete a sentence and take a breath every once in a while as she did it. "It's Ole Miss! They're my favorite! Do you wanna know why?"
Len tried in vain to catch up to his daughter's conversation with herself. "I don't know, Jo. Why don't you tell me?" he asked, humoring her.
"Because they have the best football players from anywhere! They're so awesome," she exclaimed happily, holding the small garment up to her body and checking out her reflection in the mirror that was hanging on the back of the door.
Len rolled his eyes. "Oh, and I thought it was because you had some sort of family connection with the place."
Joanna looked shocked. "Daddy! Football! There's nothing else."
"I know that. But there's something else that's pretty cool about that place, too. Do you want to know what it is?" he asked.
"What?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"That's where I went when I was learning how to be a doctor," Len supplied, kneeling down behind Joanna. He put one hand on her shoulder, brushing her hair gently from her face. She might have his features and structure, but her eyes were all Jocelyn. McCoy cringed to think how hard it was going to be to keep the boys off her once she got older. It was a task he was secretly glad would fall mainly on his ex's very slight shoulders, though Len made a mental note to talk to Pike about lessons on how to intimidate via comm.
Joanna turned, her arms dropping to her waist. A serious expression on her face, she said, "You mean you had to go to school to be a doctor? You didn't just come that way?"
With a hearty belly laugh, McCoy said, "No, Jo. I had to learn how to help people, just like how you have to learn to behave yourself." Len cringed when he thought of all the late nights, the stress, the ridiculous workload, and the inhumane expectations medical school placed on a student, all in the hopes of weeding out the mentally unfit. Compared to the real thing of say, an emergency room residency, medical school seemed like a walk in the park.
Shrugging, Joanna said, "Oh. Okay." She slid the jersey over her head and spun around in a circle again for good measure. It was a little big, but she could grow into it. At least, that was the hope, if the jersey made it through the weekend. At the rate Jo was headed, it was likely she'd never take it off. "Thanks, Daddy."
Using the rusty muscles in his face that controlled the smiling expression, Len gave Jo a hug and said, "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."
"The Mannings are the best, Daddy!" she said to a shocked Len. If he had any doubt to her comprehension of football traditions, the one sentence wiped them all away in a matter of seconds. Laughing to himself, McCoy stood to exit the room with his daughter. Passing the threshold of the door, Joanna tossed a, "Mommy would never let me wear something like this. So cool!" over her shoulder.
McCoy stopped dead in his tracks. Putting his face in his hands, he thought, 'Jocelyn is going to kill me.'
Next Up: I lied. Chapter three got a bit out of hand, so Joanna meets Captain Pike in chapter four. Depending on perspective, reviews are mixed as to how well that will go.