Fic: Words for Pictures, Chapter 3
Author’s Notes: So, this story ended being way longer than I intended. Surprise, surprise, right? Having said that, I’m happy with the way it turned out, even if it meant that it was a little late in completion. I owe a big thanks to my beta, wicked_jade, for reviewing this bad boy with a fine-toothed comb. Also, I want to say thank you to all of you that are reading, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it!
Disclaimer: I checked, and the only things I own in this story are the plot and two-thirds of the Pike family. The rest belongs to Paramount and Gene Roddenberry.
Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 |
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Chapter 3
Twelve years later (present time)
The list Ethan Pike had tacked on the back of his door was surprisingly long, given the fact he still had three months to kill before he headed off to college. On the top, it included staple items like “buy ramen” and “don’t forget all Call of Duty games” along with less important stuff such as “pick up textbooks” and “find class schedule” scribbled at the bottom of the page as an afterthought. But when he came home from work a few days after his graduation party, Ethan titled his head at the appearance of a new Post-It stuck to the bottom of the list. In his father’s slanted scrawl, he read, “Avoid McCoy,” in big, black, capital letters.
Puzzled, Ethan plucked the note from the list and bounced down the stairs leading to the basement. He paused right outside his father’s office door and took in the rich, warm sounds of an acoustic guitar being strummed on the other side. He loved hearing it; Ethan grew up around the constant sounds of music, and it was a love that he inherited from his father. He waited for a couple of seconds before he recognized the song. Smiling to himself, the teen pushed the door open and stuck his head in the room. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play that one.”
Pike looked up from his seat in the plush chair in front of the desk and grinned. His fingers still worked the guitar, picking out the right notes to fill in the song, “I was in the mood for a little Beatles today.”
“I won’t complain if you decide you want to punch out Let It Be. I remember you used to play that for me when I was a kid. Always made me feel better,” Ethan replied while he walked through the room and flopped down on the couch, stretching his full frame out while he let the musical memories melt around him.
“You’re finally acknowledging my talents? I never thought I’d live to see the day.” Pike let the last couple of notes ring around the room before he set his guitar in the upright stand on the floor and asked, “What’s up, Ethan?”
Post-It note dangling off the tips of his fingers, the teen held up the yellow square and responded with, “Care to explain this?”
“That.” Chris dropped his head and let out a low chuckle. Shaking one finger in his offspring’s direction, he said, “You’ve been causing quite a stir at the station lately.”
Ethan picked his head up from the couch and looked his father in the eye. “Oh?”
Pike walked over to the couches stationed in his office. Settling into the loveseat perpendicular to his son, he said with a wry grin, “You should consider yourself lucky that you’ve known Len for as long as you have. He’s watched you grow up, which is the only reason you’re still breathing right now.”
Ethan sat up, flipped his baseball hat around backwards and asked, “What are you taking about, Dad?”
Pike said nothing in reply; instead, he simply pointed with the guitar pick to a piece of paper sitting on his desk. “I’m talking about that.”
Ethan shot his father a questioning look, stood and ambled toward the oversized desk. He reached for the paper and picked it up. His sharp blue eyes scanned the document, and with an innocence he most certainly learned from Chekov, he said, “Someone emailed out that picture of me and McCoy from Halloween when I was six? Who got their hands on it?”
Chris motioned toward the file boxes sitting next to the printer. “Top basket. It’s the first document you’ll see in there.” He watched Ethan from his place on the loveseat, snickering silently to himself while he waited for the appropriate response.
On the page, Jim’s message of ‘My partner, the vampire,’ was clearly visible, along with the attachment of the picture. Ethan chuckled at the image; no matter how many times he walked by the picture in his father’s office, it was still funny, even after the passage of twelve years. His eyes scrolled down to the end of Jim’s message, noting that Jim sent it to the entirety of the Iowa City PD’s email address list, sans McCoy. Ethan’s eyes drifted past Kirk’s signature at the bottom and toward a page break and a new header, which he knew would contain the original sender’s email address.
His own email address.
Staring at him in stark black and white was the irrefutable proof that A) Jim Kirk was a dumbass, and B) It was time for some serious damage control. Ethan felt his heart lurch forward while he read the message that accompanied the scan of what was probably one of McCoy’s most embarrassing moments. ‘Jim, here’s that picture you wanted. Good luck with it. -E,’ it read. Short, sweet, and to the point, which was probably similar in execution to the beating McCoy was going to put on him when he caught up with the teen. With a growl, Ethan balled it up in his fists and practically yelled, “Dammit, Jim!”
“That,” Pike started, “Is strangely what McCoy growled when he finally threatened someone into telling him why the entire department was snickering every time he walked past.”
Inhale. Hold it. Exhale. Ethan remembered the breathing exercises his peewee coach taught him when one of the opposing man-children drilled him with a brutal open ice hit. He felt the surge of adrenaline rushing forth, but he fought it down so he could think clearly. “Okay. He might not have realized that I was the one that leaked that picture.”
Chris snorted a nearly high-pitched squeak of amusement. “You know how he is, Ethan. He’s going to figure it out, and when he does, you’ll be smart to avoid him for a few days.”
Ethan cringed. Plopping himself down into his father’s vacated desk chair, the teen dropped his head into his hands and moaned, “He’s that mad, huh Dad?”
“Oh, worse,” Chris replied, walking over to lay a consoling hand on his son’s back. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this angry since the moment I assigned him Jim as a partner. I guess there is a good side to all of this. Kirk is so terrified of McCoy right now that he’s actually willing to shut up and listen.”
Ethan silently rolled his eyes, picked himself up off the chair, and trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. Firing up his computer, he signed into email account and clicked on the new message option. If there was ever a time that he needed Pavel’s insight and, ahem, wisdom in skirting the blame, it was right now. Double clicking on his best friend’s address, Ethan prayed that Chekov wasn’t too busy being a super brainiac to help. His fingers danced over the keyboard as he typed a quick message that amounted to, “Dude, I need to borrow your genius,” before he punched the send button.
The sound of a set of screeching tires interrupted his train of thoughts, and the teen wandered over to his window to see what the commotion was about. Two car doors opened, then slammed closed, interrupted by the scuffle of footsteps. Ethan heard a pair of male voices make their way through the open window and into his bedroom, and he cringed when recognition floated it through his brain.
“ETHAN CHRISTOPER PIKE, YOU LITTLE SHIT! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND TAKE YOUR BEATING LIKE A MAN!”
Well, there was no mistaking that tone. Ethan stuck his head up to the screen of the window, and with his nose pressed against the mesh, he shouted in defiant reply, “Only my mom’s allowed to use my full name, McCoy!”
McCoy shook his head and practically stomped toward the entrance of the Pike home, followed closely by an apologetic Kirk. Ethan felt the pressure inside the house change when the garage door was opened and then closed, right before two sets of footsteps invaded the kitchen. He powered down his computer, pushed the chair out from in front of his desk, and wandered out into the main living area to meet the impromptu guests. Feigning ignorance, Ethan asked innocently, “’Sup?”
The sergeant slapped the image in question down on the tabletop while he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I’m owed an explanation for this.”
“Bones, you can’t just accept that it seemed like a good idea and leave it at that?” Kirk asked.
“No, because in order to have a good idea, it means you have to think about something first. You. Don’t. Think, Jim,” McCoy fired right back while he turned on his heel to face his partner. He leaned dangerously into Kirk’s personal space, and it was only Jim’s familiarity with the sergeant that prevented him from shirking backwards in abject terror.
Pike hopped up the steps from the basement when he heard the commotion on the main level. “Looks like I’m missing the show.”
“There’s nothing to see here, Chris,” McCoy insisted while he whipped his head around toward his former partner. “I’m just about to pummel the life out of my partner and your son for that,” he said, stabbing one finger toward the crumpled up email he managed to extort from a helplessly giggling Chapel in personnel.
“I have no objections to Kirk, but when you’re threatening bodily injury against my son, I might have to get involved. What did he do?” Pike asked, playing dumb.
“You were in the office today, and even if you never get off your ass and out from behind that damned desk, even you couldn’t have missed the laughs every time I walked by,” McCoy replied, eyes narrowed and jaw set. “He sent that to my partner, who in turn, sent it to every goddamned address in the department’s email list.”
“Hey, how the hell was I supposed to know what Jim was going to do with it? I just thought he wanted it for his wall of shame!” Ethan insisted.
“You’re not that dumb, kid,” McCoy snorted. “You knew exactly what my infant partner was going to do with it.”
Ethan sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, leaning casually back against the backrest. He tapped the fingers of his left hand against the tabletop and cocked his head to the side. The teen found and held McCoy’s glare before he retorted, “This is not all my fault, so why are you all staring at me like it is?!”
“Learning deflection, I see. You’ve been hanging around Jim too long, Ethan.”
“On that, I’d actually agree,” Pike chimed in from his place near the kitchen counter.
Turning his head sharply toward his father, Ethan glared daggers the man sitting across the table. “Don’t even play, Dad. Like, don’t even try. You sound like a moron.”
Chris raised a surprised eyebrow. “Why are you yelling at me? I had nothing to do with this!”
“Oh, you had everything to do with it,” Ethan replied, emphasizing the middle word of the sentence. His eyes went stony and cold while he adjusted his sights to a new target. “You were the one who put me up to biting him in the first place, so I fail to see how you weren’t involved.”
“I just suggested!” Pike insisted.
“No, you withheld candy! That, in itself, is a criminal offense. I distinctly remember you telling me that I could go trick or treating as soon as I took care of something for you. Now you know why I never listen to you when you say, ‘Come here, son. I need a favor.’ It’s because I know better!” Ethan sat back in his chair, defiant and triumphant. His foot tapped restlessly against the leg of the chair while he listened to the sound of the ticking clock nestled amongst the family pictures on the mantle of the fireplace.
From the hallway, a new voice entered the conversation. “Are we having a party now? Why didn’t anyone invite me?” Lynn Pike asked as she wrestled a couple of large bags through the door.
McCoy and Pike both reached out helpful hands to take the large, heavy and recently dry cleaned bedspreads from her arms. She reached out to give hugs to Jim, then Ethan and finally McCoy before she exchanged a quick kiss with her husband. The tension in the room was palpable as much as the glares were obvious, and Lynn felt it right away. Her head darted back and forth before she laid both hands on her hips and asked, “What’s going on here?”
“McCoy says he’s going to murder me,” Ethan supplied succinctly while he kept glaring at the sergeant. “I think I’d like to see him try.”
Jim’s eyes drifted down to the gun attached to his partner’s right hip. “E, he’s still armed.”
“So? He won’t shoot me,” Ethan replied assertively.
Lynn’s voice cut into the fray. “No he won’t, because if even thinks about trying, he’ll have to answer to me,” Lynn replied in her patented no-nonsense, ‘I’m-the-mom, so-the-rest-of-you-can-kindly-piss-right-off,’ voice. “Now, what has you ready to commit a felony, Len?”
“Your son, your husband, and my partner. That’s what.” He pointed wordlessly toward the picture and the email while he waited for her to read it. Knowing Lynn’s thoughts as he did, McCoy was supremely confident that he’d inherited at least one ally.
Lynn’s small, slender fingers scooped up Chapel’s email and the accompanying attachment. She saw the picture first; her face lit up fondly for just the briefest of moments before she flipped the page to the actual message. Reading it, the small, loving smile turned into a scowl of disappointment. She turned toward Kirk and Ethan and scolded, “Boys, you didn’t.”
Ethan rolled his eyes while he exhaled a dramatic, put upon sigh. “Oh, not you, too! Come on, Mom. I just told Dad he’s not innocent here, and I’ll tell you the same thing. This is as much your fault as it is mine and Jim’s.”
“And how do you figure that, young man?”
“Do you guys think I don’t remember what went down that night? For real?” the teen squeaked out. “I might have been young, but I’m pretty sure I remember that Halloween. Mom, you made me wait until you found the camera, and then the battery for it before you’d let me do anything!”
From across the room, the sound of McCoy’s jaw dropping was audible to every person present. “I never heard this part!” he yelled.
Chris waved a dismissive hand through the air. In his sergeant’s direction, Pike replied, “Oh, give me a break. Do you really think that you’d have been able to resist had our roles been reversed?”
The way McCoy gently chewed away at his lower lip spoke loudly - there was no way he would have been able to resist such a lucrative moment. Recovering, he plastered the embarrassed grimace back on his face when he added, “But I wouldn’t have emailed the picture to the entire damned department, like my soon-to-be-dead partner did.”
Lynn actually laughed out loud. The sudden, higher pinched sound surprised the room’s occupants. She cleared her throat in order to speak and stated pithily in the way only she could do, “Oh, you’re such a drama queen, Len. I think that picture is adorable.”
“’Me’ and ‘adorable’ don’t belong in the same sentence,” McCoy proclaimed over the chorus of snickers.
“That’s what you think,” Lynn sing-songed out while she waved on finger in the air, her face cracking simultaneously into a wide grin.
McCoy watched as his tormentors all lost their battle with laughter from Lynn’s blunt observations. Damn that woman, she was good. He glared at each person individually before he said, “Fine. I can see I’m not going to get anywhere with you thickheaded morons.” To Kirk, he said, “Come on, Jim. We’re leaving.”
“Already, Bones? Man, I was just staring to enjoy this!”
“No, you were enjoying your reprieve from death,” McCoy said over his shoulder.
Jim coughed into his hand and wiped some moisture from the corner of his eyes. He waved a goodbye to the Pike family before he followed a steaming McCoy to the door toward the cruiser.
“Bye McCoy!” Ethan called smugly as the pair walked out the door, arguing all the way to the car.
Pike waited until the sound of the Charger’s engine roared in the driveway before he sat back in his chair. With a smirk, he turned to face his family as he said, “Well, I think that went well, didn’t it?”
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Jim must have been born with a lucky horseshoe shoved up his ass, because the rest of the night kept the cops too busy for the sergeant to even consider payback for the mass emailing. Serdeski had the pair running all over creation, putting out one fire in time for three more to crop up. By the end of the night, all McCoy wanted was to go home, crank up a little blues in his apartment, and simply relax. He walked out of the station in the dead of night and was just about to toss his duffel bag duffel bag full of dirty laundry into the trunk of his car when some unnatural movement from the bank of trees near his car caught his attention. Turning his head toward the shadowy figure nearly hidden by the lush branches, Len said, “I thought that was you standing there.”
Ethan Pike took a couple of steps out from the tree that he was using for cover. “I could have been someone with a grudge and a .40. Not very observant, McCoy.”
“In that case, I would be dead now.”
“Right, but who have you really pissed off that badly to earn that honor?” Ethan replied while he sauntered up to lean up against the front quarter panel of McCoy’s POV.
The sergeant turned and laid his forearms on the frame of the open driver’s side door. Spinning the key around his finger, he replied, “You want to keep that list exclusive to criminals, or should I include other cops, too?”
“Come on, man. This is Iowa City, not Compton.”
McCoy let out a little grunt, effectively ending that particular conversation thread. He looked the teen up and down. “Did you walk here?” At Ethan’s nod, he motioned toward the passenger door. “Get it. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I was just going out for coffee, actually. I needed to get out of the house a little bit. Mom’s been going a little crazy since my graduation party. I think she thinks that since her ‘little boy’ is leaving for college in a couple of months, she’ll never see me again. She’s kind of smothering me,” Ethan admitted with a pained grimace.
The sergeant grinned. “I hate to tell you that, Ethan, but it’s natural.”
“What, do you have personal experience talking now?” the younger man asked without really thinking about his words’ ramifications with his father’s old partner. Instantaneously, Ethan closed his eyes and kicked himself for such insensitivity. Of all the stupid, idiotic things to say…
McCoy managed not to visibly flinch. He knew that Ethan didn’t mean it like he said it, but it still didn’t lessen the sting of the kid’s words and the implications behind it. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the Mustang’s engine. After Len allowed the silence to ring for a couple more seconds, he worked to school his face to impassivity before he replied, “Not personal experience per say, no. But, I think it’s what I would be feeling if Jo was going off to school like you are.”
Ethan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Len. I didn’t mean it like that. I just - I didn’t exactly think before I said it. Pike trait, I guess,” he said with an earnest, apologetic shrug. The teen was suddenly glad for the cover of night; at least this way, he knew McCoy had a lesser chance of seeing just how red his face was.
“You don’t need to apologize to me for that. It’s the truth, as much as I hate it,” McCoy admitted with a long sigh. He reached behind him and grabbed the seatbelt, clicking it into place while he motioned for Ethan to do the same. “You’re allowed to observe and report.”
Swallowing back the lump in his throat at the ill-timed, impromptu mention of McCoy’s recently discovered daughter Joanna, Ethan shifted in his seat to alleviate some of the sudden tension winding through his body. He chanced a glance over toward the driver of the car while the pair pulled out on to the main road leading from the station and said simply, “Thanks. My mouth gets ahead of my brain still.”
“If your old man’s any indication, that’s not going to change any time soon. The only difference between you two is that he stopped caring who he pissed off years ago,” Tilting his head to the side, McCoy decided on a peace offering. “Did you still want that coffee?”
“Yeah,” Ethan laughed out while he resituated the hat on his head.
McCoy pulled into the drive-thru of the nearest Starbucks and rolled the window down. Both men ordered and after retrieving their drinks, the sergeant pulled off to the side of the parking lot to secure his beverage for the ride home. Taking a long sip, he peeked over at Ethan, chuckling at what he saw.
The teen had the cover off his caramel macchiato and was busy adding two more sugar packets and some extra cream to the drink. He stirred in the whipped cream and replaced the lid. He took a big gulp from the drink before he set it in the cup holder on the floor. “What?” he asked in response to McCoy’s silently amused stare.
“That is an insult to coffee,” Len replied. He took a drink of his own black, untainted brew while he shuddered inwardly at the overwhelming sweetness of Ethan’s already sugary drink. “You are going to be up all night with all that caffeine and sugar.”
“God, now you sound like my dad. Are you sure you didn’t just meet your daughter last year? Because really, you’re a natural,” Ethan replied incredulously, shaking his head.
“I’ve had plenty of practice, thanks to your dad giving me Jim as a partner.”
Ethan nodded, conceding the fact that McCoy was more than right. He took another drink of his coffee and said, “About that. Jim and my dad. I think they bought it.”
McCoy snorted loudly before he pulled the car onto the road. “Hook, line and sinker, kid.”
“Well, you put on a good show. I have to admit, it was great. All dramatic and shit,” Ethan responded honestly. “I especially liked when you screamed at me through the front window. I almost lost it right there.”
A sly, nearly proud smirk passed over McCoy’s face before he covered it with the practiced ease of a lifelong babysitter. “Like I said, practice. Jim’s a good guinea pig.”
“Are you ever going to tell Kirk that you’ve known about that pool for about ten years now?” Ethan asked his dad’s longtime partner while he distractedly watched the road.
“Eventually, I suppose I’ll have to make a confession.”
Nodding, the younger Pike scoffed as he remembered what his father said offhandedly earlier in the day about McCoy and his infantile partner. Rhetorically, he said, “But it’s more fun to make him squirm, I’m assuming. The immaculate confession won’t be happening anytime soon.”
“You got it,” McCoy answered succinctly.
“Ever the opportunist, McCoy.”
The sergeant shrugged. “I do what I can.”
“I wish someone would have recorded Serdeski’s face when Jim gave him those pictures,” Ethan started, turning in his seat towards McCoy. He grimaced when the seat belt bit into the side of his neck. Adjusting it, he continued by saying, “I mean, haven’t you always told everyone the truth about why your neck was so scraped up that night?”
“That’s all I’ve ever told them. It’s not my fault if they were too stupid to believe it,” McCoy replied with a hint of disdain ringing through his voice. Truly, if he had a dollar for every time someone brought up the marks on his neck through another outlandish, ridiculous theory during the course of the last twelve years, he wouldn’t still be working. Or, at very least, he’d have a nice, padded retirement fund courtesy of his morbidly curious co-workers, who apparently couldn’t figure out the truth when it slapped them in the face. The money would have been a small consolation for all the suffering, but more so, it would have eased the tingle of disconcertion, considering he worked with a bunch of police officers for a living. On the flip side, if Greg Serdeski thought McCoy didn’t know about the pool on him for those particular marks, he was thicker than the cold cuts the desk sergeant was famous for eating.
In the passenger’s seat, Ethan seemed to read McCoy’s mind. “Don’t forget we are talking about Serdeski. When has he ever given up when it comes to you, especially when he gets something stuck in his head?” Ethan asked while he wracked his brain, trying to recall one time where Greg conceded defeat when the topic was McCoy. Unable to remember even one specific episode, he added, “I mean, really? Like, it’s almost an obsession, his jealousy.”
“I don’t know what he’d be jealous of,” McCoy said, a bit self-consciously.
Ethan recognized his neighborhood as the car crested the hill just down the road from his turn-off. “Plenty, apparently. I mean, you have your stunning personality, your friendly demeanor, the way you deal with the public with such a gentle, loving hand…” the teen joked while he fought to keep a straight face.
“Keep going, and I’ll waffle you,” McCoy growled.
Throwing his head back and laughing, the teen replied, “That would require a squad, one of those old dividers, and me in the back seat. I don’t think so, Len.”
“I can make it happen. Scotty’s been itching for a project to do, and I’m sure he’d love to custom-make a set of divider bars. Maybe I could bribe him into welding some pansy-ass design with it so you’d have to explain away the impressions in your skin after you’ve been sent flying into it.”
“Try it. I’m game.”
“Do you want to become the next Jim Kirk?” the sergeant asked semi-seriously as he pulled the car into Chris’ driveway.
Ethan unbuckled his seat belt and reached his hand across the car. Accepting the handshake from McCoy, he said, “No, man. I think you’ve got your hands full with Jim. I’ll stay on the sidelines until you need someone else to amuse you.”
“Don’t hold your breath. Jim’s enough trouble to last me a lifetime.”
Ethan looked down and smirked before he lifted himself up and out of the car. Leaning his right arm on the roof, he bent down and stuck his head back into the cabin of the vehicle. “Hey, you said it, not me: he’s good practice. Maybe you can put it to good use when Joanna tells you she’s getting married.”
McCoy snorted loudly and rolled his eyes. “God help us all then.”
“I hear that. Might actually be a good reason to start another pool,” the younger Pike said with mirth in his voice and mischief in his eyes.
“Ethan,” McCoy warned, low and threatening.
“Okay, okay! I surrender!” he replied, tossing his hands up in the air. Shifting, Ethan added, “Thanks for the ride, McCoy, and for the coffee.”
“My pleasure. Least I could do.” Len motioned toward the front door with a flick of his long fingers. “Now, get your ass inside before your dad tries to shoot us both. I can’t go to work with holes in me, that’s for damned sure.”
Ethan was about to close the door to the car when something poked him in the leg. The teen reached into the deep recesses of his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He reached back into the car, popped the glove box and tossed the flat white legal envelope back in. At McCoy’s questioning eyebrow, he said, “That’s a little something for you in there. After you guys left, I pulled the guilt trip on Dad. He caved and gave me a third of Serdeski’s pool. I figured it’s only fair you get half the cut, since I wouldn’t have made money tonight if it wasn’t for you.”
McCoy thought back to the picture that started the whole mess and smiled fondly. It was amazing how much could change in a dozen years. There was no way McCoy could have ever imagined that he’d be sitting in Pike’s driveway at midnight, dropping his former partner’s son off after a long but impromptu chat (and one that he truly enjoyed). His relationship with Ethan was natural and friendly, and such a far cry from how unsure he was around the boy in the early years. Len realized long ago that he was lucky to have found an adoptive family, and he was thankful that he was afforded the opportunity from complete strangers when they clearly didn’t have to.
Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t give them a little hell from time to time. McCoy smirked and accepted the knuckle bump from Ethan’s outstretched hand. Echoing a compliment he uttered twelve years earlier, the sergeant said with a proud nod, “Pretty good, kid.”
Ethan grinned from ear to ear with the mega-smile he used when he needed to get out of trouble. “I learned from the best.”
“You did. And don’t you ever forget that.”
--FIN--
Disclaimer: I checked, and the only things I own in this story are the plot and two-thirds of the Pike family. The rest belongs to Paramount and Gene Roddenberry.
Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 |
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Chapter 3
Twelve years later (present time)
The list Ethan Pike had tacked on the back of his door was surprisingly long, given the fact he still had three months to kill before he headed off to college. On the top, it included staple items like “buy ramen” and “don’t forget all Call of Duty games” along with less important stuff such as “pick up textbooks” and “find class schedule” scribbled at the bottom of the page as an afterthought. But when he came home from work a few days after his graduation party, Ethan titled his head at the appearance of a new Post-It stuck to the bottom of the list. In his father’s slanted scrawl, he read, “Avoid McCoy,” in big, black, capital letters.
Puzzled, Ethan plucked the note from the list and bounced down the stairs leading to the basement. He paused right outside his father’s office door and took in the rich, warm sounds of an acoustic guitar being strummed on the other side. He loved hearing it; Ethan grew up around the constant sounds of music, and it was a love that he inherited from his father. He waited for a couple of seconds before he recognized the song. Smiling to himself, the teen pushed the door open and stuck his head in the room. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play that one.”
Pike looked up from his seat in the plush chair in front of the desk and grinned. His fingers still worked the guitar, picking out the right notes to fill in the song, “I was in the mood for a little Beatles today.”
“I won’t complain if you decide you want to punch out Let It Be. I remember you used to play that for me when I was a kid. Always made me feel better,” Ethan replied while he walked through the room and flopped down on the couch, stretching his full frame out while he let the musical memories melt around him.
“You’re finally acknowledging my talents? I never thought I’d live to see the day.” Pike let the last couple of notes ring around the room before he set his guitar in the upright stand on the floor and asked, “What’s up, Ethan?”
Post-It note dangling off the tips of his fingers, the teen held up the yellow square and responded with, “Care to explain this?”
“That.” Chris dropped his head and let out a low chuckle. Shaking one finger in his offspring’s direction, he said, “You’ve been causing quite a stir at the station lately.”
Ethan picked his head up from the couch and looked his father in the eye. “Oh?”
Pike walked over to the couches stationed in his office. Settling into the loveseat perpendicular to his son, he said with a wry grin, “You should consider yourself lucky that you’ve known Len for as long as you have. He’s watched you grow up, which is the only reason you’re still breathing right now.”
Ethan sat up, flipped his baseball hat around backwards and asked, “What are you taking about, Dad?”
Pike said nothing in reply; instead, he simply pointed with the guitar pick to a piece of paper sitting on his desk. “I’m talking about that.”
Ethan shot his father a questioning look, stood and ambled toward the oversized desk. He reached for the paper and picked it up. His sharp blue eyes scanned the document, and with an innocence he most certainly learned from Chekov, he said, “Someone emailed out that picture of me and McCoy from Halloween when I was six? Who got their hands on it?”
Chris motioned toward the file boxes sitting next to the printer. “Top basket. It’s the first document you’ll see in there.” He watched Ethan from his place on the loveseat, snickering silently to himself while he waited for the appropriate response.
On the page, Jim’s message of ‘My partner, the vampire,’ was clearly visible, along with the attachment of the picture. Ethan chuckled at the image; no matter how many times he walked by the picture in his father’s office, it was still funny, even after the passage of twelve years. His eyes scrolled down to the end of Jim’s message, noting that Jim sent it to the entirety of the Iowa City PD’s email address list, sans McCoy. Ethan’s eyes drifted past Kirk’s signature at the bottom and toward a page break and a new header, which he knew would contain the original sender’s email address.
His own email address.
Staring at him in stark black and white was the irrefutable proof that A) Jim Kirk was a dumbass, and B) It was time for some serious damage control. Ethan felt his heart lurch forward while he read the message that accompanied the scan of what was probably one of McCoy’s most embarrassing moments. ‘Jim, here’s that picture you wanted. Good luck with it. -E,’ it read. Short, sweet, and to the point, which was probably similar in execution to the beating McCoy was going to put on him when he caught up with the teen. With a growl, Ethan balled it up in his fists and practically yelled, “Dammit, Jim!”
“That,” Pike started, “Is strangely what McCoy growled when he finally threatened someone into telling him why the entire department was snickering every time he walked past.”
Inhale. Hold it. Exhale. Ethan remembered the breathing exercises his peewee coach taught him when one of the opposing man-children drilled him with a brutal open ice hit. He felt the surge of adrenaline rushing forth, but he fought it down so he could think clearly. “Okay. He might not have realized that I was the one that leaked that picture.”
Chris snorted a nearly high-pitched squeak of amusement. “You know how he is, Ethan. He’s going to figure it out, and when he does, you’ll be smart to avoid him for a few days.”
Ethan cringed. Plopping himself down into his father’s vacated desk chair, the teen dropped his head into his hands and moaned, “He’s that mad, huh Dad?”
“Oh, worse,” Chris replied, walking over to lay a consoling hand on his son’s back. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this angry since the moment I assigned him Jim as a partner. I guess there is a good side to all of this. Kirk is so terrified of McCoy right now that he’s actually willing to shut up and listen.”
Ethan silently rolled his eyes, picked himself up off the chair, and trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. Firing up his computer, he signed into email account and clicked on the new message option. If there was ever a time that he needed Pavel’s insight and, ahem, wisdom in skirting the blame, it was right now. Double clicking on his best friend’s address, Ethan prayed that Chekov wasn’t too busy being a super brainiac to help. His fingers danced over the keyboard as he typed a quick message that amounted to, “Dude, I need to borrow your genius,” before he punched the send button.
The sound of a set of screeching tires interrupted his train of thoughts, and the teen wandered over to his window to see what the commotion was about. Two car doors opened, then slammed closed, interrupted by the scuffle of footsteps. Ethan heard a pair of male voices make their way through the open window and into his bedroom, and he cringed when recognition floated it through his brain.
“ETHAN CHRISTOPER PIKE, YOU LITTLE SHIT! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND TAKE YOUR BEATING LIKE A MAN!”
Well, there was no mistaking that tone. Ethan stuck his head up to the screen of the window, and with his nose pressed against the mesh, he shouted in defiant reply, “Only my mom’s allowed to use my full name, McCoy!”
McCoy shook his head and practically stomped toward the entrance of the Pike home, followed closely by an apologetic Kirk. Ethan felt the pressure inside the house change when the garage door was opened and then closed, right before two sets of footsteps invaded the kitchen. He powered down his computer, pushed the chair out from in front of his desk, and wandered out into the main living area to meet the impromptu guests. Feigning ignorance, Ethan asked innocently, “’Sup?”
The sergeant slapped the image in question down on the tabletop while he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I’m owed an explanation for this.”
“Bones, you can’t just accept that it seemed like a good idea and leave it at that?” Kirk asked.
“No, because in order to have a good idea, it means you have to think about something first. You. Don’t. Think, Jim,” McCoy fired right back while he turned on his heel to face his partner. He leaned dangerously into Kirk’s personal space, and it was only Jim’s familiarity with the sergeant that prevented him from shirking backwards in abject terror.
Pike hopped up the steps from the basement when he heard the commotion on the main level. “Looks like I’m missing the show.”
“There’s nothing to see here, Chris,” McCoy insisted while he whipped his head around toward his former partner. “I’m just about to pummel the life out of my partner and your son for that,” he said, stabbing one finger toward the crumpled up email he managed to extort from a helplessly giggling Chapel in personnel.
“I have no objections to Kirk, but when you’re threatening bodily injury against my son, I might have to get involved. What did he do?” Pike asked, playing dumb.
“You were in the office today, and even if you never get off your ass and out from behind that damned desk, even you couldn’t have missed the laughs every time I walked by,” McCoy replied, eyes narrowed and jaw set. “He sent that to my partner, who in turn, sent it to every goddamned address in the department’s email list.”
“Hey, how the hell was I supposed to know what Jim was going to do with it? I just thought he wanted it for his wall of shame!” Ethan insisted.
“You’re not that dumb, kid,” McCoy snorted. “You knew exactly what my infant partner was going to do with it.”
Ethan sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, leaning casually back against the backrest. He tapped the fingers of his left hand against the tabletop and cocked his head to the side. The teen found and held McCoy’s glare before he retorted, “This is not all my fault, so why are you all staring at me like it is?!”
“Learning deflection, I see. You’ve been hanging around Jim too long, Ethan.”
“On that, I’d actually agree,” Pike chimed in from his place near the kitchen counter.
Turning his head sharply toward his father, Ethan glared daggers the man sitting across the table. “Don’t even play, Dad. Like, don’t even try. You sound like a moron.”
Chris raised a surprised eyebrow. “Why are you yelling at me? I had nothing to do with this!”
“Oh, you had everything to do with it,” Ethan replied, emphasizing the middle word of the sentence. His eyes went stony and cold while he adjusted his sights to a new target. “You were the one who put me up to biting him in the first place, so I fail to see how you weren’t involved.”
“I just suggested!” Pike insisted.
“No, you withheld candy! That, in itself, is a criminal offense. I distinctly remember you telling me that I could go trick or treating as soon as I took care of something for you. Now you know why I never listen to you when you say, ‘Come here, son. I need a favor.’ It’s because I know better!” Ethan sat back in his chair, defiant and triumphant. His foot tapped restlessly against the leg of the chair while he listened to the sound of the ticking clock nestled amongst the family pictures on the mantle of the fireplace.
From the hallway, a new voice entered the conversation. “Are we having a party now? Why didn’t anyone invite me?” Lynn Pike asked as she wrestled a couple of large bags through the door.
McCoy and Pike both reached out helpful hands to take the large, heavy and recently dry cleaned bedspreads from her arms. She reached out to give hugs to Jim, then Ethan and finally McCoy before she exchanged a quick kiss with her husband. The tension in the room was palpable as much as the glares were obvious, and Lynn felt it right away. Her head darted back and forth before she laid both hands on her hips and asked, “What’s going on here?”
“McCoy says he’s going to murder me,” Ethan supplied succinctly while he kept glaring at the sergeant. “I think I’d like to see him try.”
Jim’s eyes drifted down to the gun attached to his partner’s right hip. “E, he’s still armed.”
“So? He won’t shoot me,” Ethan replied assertively.
Lynn’s voice cut into the fray. “No he won’t, because if even thinks about trying, he’ll have to answer to me,” Lynn replied in her patented no-nonsense, ‘I’m-the-mom, so-the-rest-of-you-can-kindly-piss-right-off,’ voice. “Now, what has you ready to commit a felony, Len?”
“Your son, your husband, and my partner. That’s what.” He pointed wordlessly toward the picture and the email while he waited for her to read it. Knowing Lynn’s thoughts as he did, McCoy was supremely confident that he’d inherited at least one ally.
Lynn’s small, slender fingers scooped up Chapel’s email and the accompanying attachment. She saw the picture first; her face lit up fondly for just the briefest of moments before she flipped the page to the actual message. Reading it, the small, loving smile turned into a scowl of disappointment. She turned toward Kirk and Ethan and scolded, “Boys, you didn’t.”
Ethan rolled his eyes while he exhaled a dramatic, put upon sigh. “Oh, not you, too! Come on, Mom. I just told Dad he’s not innocent here, and I’ll tell you the same thing. This is as much your fault as it is mine and Jim’s.”
“And how do you figure that, young man?”
“Do you guys think I don’t remember what went down that night? For real?” the teen squeaked out. “I might have been young, but I’m pretty sure I remember that Halloween. Mom, you made me wait until you found the camera, and then the battery for it before you’d let me do anything!”
From across the room, the sound of McCoy’s jaw dropping was audible to every person present. “I never heard this part!” he yelled.
Chris waved a dismissive hand through the air. In his sergeant’s direction, Pike replied, “Oh, give me a break. Do you really think that you’d have been able to resist had our roles been reversed?”
The way McCoy gently chewed away at his lower lip spoke loudly - there was no way he would have been able to resist such a lucrative moment. Recovering, he plastered the embarrassed grimace back on his face when he added, “But I wouldn’t have emailed the picture to the entire damned department, like my soon-to-be-dead partner did.”
Lynn actually laughed out loud. The sudden, higher pinched sound surprised the room’s occupants. She cleared her throat in order to speak and stated pithily in the way only she could do, “Oh, you’re such a drama queen, Len. I think that picture is adorable.”
“’Me’ and ‘adorable’ don’t belong in the same sentence,” McCoy proclaimed over the chorus of snickers.
“That’s what you think,” Lynn sing-songed out while she waved on finger in the air, her face cracking simultaneously into a wide grin.
McCoy watched as his tormentors all lost their battle with laughter from Lynn’s blunt observations. Damn that woman, she was good. He glared at each person individually before he said, “Fine. I can see I’m not going to get anywhere with you thickheaded morons.” To Kirk, he said, “Come on, Jim. We’re leaving.”
“Already, Bones? Man, I was just staring to enjoy this!”
“No, you were enjoying your reprieve from death,” McCoy said over his shoulder.
Jim coughed into his hand and wiped some moisture from the corner of his eyes. He waved a goodbye to the Pike family before he followed a steaming McCoy to the door toward the cruiser.
“Bye McCoy!” Ethan called smugly as the pair walked out the door, arguing all the way to the car.
Pike waited until the sound of the Charger’s engine roared in the driveway before he sat back in his chair. With a smirk, he turned to face his family as he said, “Well, I think that went well, didn’t it?”
========
Jim must have been born with a lucky horseshoe shoved up his ass, because the rest of the night kept the cops too busy for the sergeant to even consider payback for the mass emailing. Serdeski had the pair running all over creation, putting out one fire in time for three more to crop up. By the end of the night, all McCoy wanted was to go home, crank up a little blues in his apartment, and simply relax. He walked out of the station in the dead of night and was just about to toss his duffel bag duffel bag full of dirty laundry into the trunk of his car when some unnatural movement from the bank of trees near his car caught his attention. Turning his head toward the shadowy figure nearly hidden by the lush branches, Len said, “I thought that was you standing there.”
Ethan Pike took a couple of steps out from the tree that he was using for cover. “I could have been someone with a grudge and a .40. Not very observant, McCoy.”
“In that case, I would be dead now.”
“Right, but who have you really pissed off that badly to earn that honor?” Ethan replied while he sauntered up to lean up against the front quarter panel of McCoy’s POV.
The sergeant turned and laid his forearms on the frame of the open driver’s side door. Spinning the key around his finger, he replied, “You want to keep that list exclusive to criminals, or should I include other cops, too?”
“Come on, man. This is Iowa City, not Compton.”
McCoy let out a little grunt, effectively ending that particular conversation thread. He looked the teen up and down. “Did you walk here?” At Ethan’s nod, he motioned toward the passenger door. “Get it. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I was just going out for coffee, actually. I needed to get out of the house a little bit. Mom’s been going a little crazy since my graduation party. I think she thinks that since her ‘little boy’ is leaving for college in a couple of months, she’ll never see me again. She’s kind of smothering me,” Ethan admitted with a pained grimace.
The sergeant grinned. “I hate to tell you that, Ethan, but it’s natural.”
“What, do you have personal experience talking now?” the younger man asked without really thinking about his words’ ramifications with his father’s old partner. Instantaneously, Ethan closed his eyes and kicked himself for such insensitivity. Of all the stupid, idiotic things to say…
McCoy managed not to visibly flinch. He knew that Ethan didn’t mean it like he said it, but it still didn’t lessen the sting of the kid’s words and the implications behind it. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the Mustang’s engine. After Len allowed the silence to ring for a couple more seconds, he worked to school his face to impassivity before he replied, “Not personal experience per say, no. But, I think it’s what I would be feeling if Jo was going off to school like you are.”
Ethan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Len. I didn’t mean it like that. I just - I didn’t exactly think before I said it. Pike trait, I guess,” he said with an earnest, apologetic shrug. The teen was suddenly glad for the cover of night; at least this way, he knew McCoy had a lesser chance of seeing just how red his face was.
“You don’t need to apologize to me for that. It’s the truth, as much as I hate it,” McCoy admitted with a long sigh. He reached behind him and grabbed the seatbelt, clicking it into place while he motioned for Ethan to do the same. “You’re allowed to observe and report.”
Swallowing back the lump in his throat at the ill-timed, impromptu mention of McCoy’s recently discovered daughter Joanna, Ethan shifted in his seat to alleviate some of the sudden tension winding through his body. He chanced a glance over toward the driver of the car while the pair pulled out on to the main road leading from the station and said simply, “Thanks. My mouth gets ahead of my brain still.”
“If your old man’s any indication, that’s not going to change any time soon. The only difference between you two is that he stopped caring who he pissed off years ago,” Tilting his head to the side, McCoy decided on a peace offering. “Did you still want that coffee?”
“Yeah,” Ethan laughed out while he resituated the hat on his head.
McCoy pulled into the drive-thru of the nearest Starbucks and rolled the window down. Both men ordered and after retrieving their drinks, the sergeant pulled off to the side of the parking lot to secure his beverage for the ride home. Taking a long sip, he peeked over at Ethan, chuckling at what he saw.
The teen had the cover off his caramel macchiato and was busy adding two more sugar packets and some extra cream to the drink. He stirred in the whipped cream and replaced the lid. He took a big gulp from the drink before he set it in the cup holder on the floor. “What?” he asked in response to McCoy’s silently amused stare.
“That is an insult to coffee,” Len replied. He took a drink of his own black, untainted brew while he shuddered inwardly at the overwhelming sweetness of Ethan’s already sugary drink. “You are going to be up all night with all that caffeine and sugar.”
“God, now you sound like my dad. Are you sure you didn’t just meet your daughter last year? Because really, you’re a natural,” Ethan replied incredulously, shaking his head.
“I’ve had plenty of practice, thanks to your dad giving me Jim as a partner.”
Ethan nodded, conceding the fact that McCoy was more than right. He took another drink of his coffee and said, “About that. Jim and my dad. I think they bought it.”
McCoy snorted loudly before he pulled the car onto the road. “Hook, line and sinker, kid.”
“Well, you put on a good show. I have to admit, it was great. All dramatic and shit,” Ethan responded honestly. “I especially liked when you screamed at me through the front window. I almost lost it right there.”
A sly, nearly proud smirk passed over McCoy’s face before he covered it with the practiced ease of a lifelong babysitter. “Like I said, practice. Jim’s a good guinea pig.”
“Are you ever going to tell Kirk that you’ve known about that pool for about ten years now?” Ethan asked his dad’s longtime partner while he distractedly watched the road.
“Eventually, I suppose I’ll have to make a confession.”
Nodding, the younger Pike scoffed as he remembered what his father said offhandedly earlier in the day about McCoy and his infantile partner. Rhetorically, he said, “But it’s more fun to make him squirm, I’m assuming. The immaculate confession won’t be happening anytime soon.”
“You got it,” McCoy answered succinctly.
“Ever the opportunist, McCoy.”
The sergeant shrugged. “I do what I can.”
“I wish someone would have recorded Serdeski’s face when Jim gave him those pictures,” Ethan started, turning in his seat towards McCoy. He grimaced when the seat belt bit into the side of his neck. Adjusting it, he continued by saying, “I mean, haven’t you always told everyone the truth about why your neck was so scraped up that night?”
“That’s all I’ve ever told them. It’s not my fault if they were too stupid to believe it,” McCoy replied with a hint of disdain ringing through his voice. Truly, if he had a dollar for every time someone brought up the marks on his neck through another outlandish, ridiculous theory during the course of the last twelve years, he wouldn’t still be working. Or, at very least, he’d have a nice, padded retirement fund courtesy of his morbidly curious co-workers, who apparently couldn’t figure out the truth when it slapped them in the face. The money would have been a small consolation for all the suffering, but more so, it would have eased the tingle of disconcertion, considering he worked with a bunch of police officers for a living. On the flip side, if Greg Serdeski thought McCoy didn’t know about the pool on him for those particular marks, he was thicker than the cold cuts the desk sergeant was famous for eating.
In the passenger’s seat, Ethan seemed to read McCoy’s mind. “Don’t forget we are talking about Serdeski. When has he ever given up when it comes to you, especially when he gets something stuck in his head?” Ethan asked while he wracked his brain, trying to recall one time where Greg conceded defeat when the topic was McCoy. Unable to remember even one specific episode, he added, “I mean, really? Like, it’s almost an obsession, his jealousy.”
“I don’t know what he’d be jealous of,” McCoy said, a bit self-consciously.
Ethan recognized his neighborhood as the car crested the hill just down the road from his turn-off. “Plenty, apparently. I mean, you have your stunning personality, your friendly demeanor, the way you deal with the public with such a gentle, loving hand…” the teen joked while he fought to keep a straight face.
“Keep going, and I’ll waffle you,” McCoy growled.
Throwing his head back and laughing, the teen replied, “That would require a squad, one of those old dividers, and me in the back seat. I don’t think so, Len.”
“I can make it happen. Scotty’s been itching for a project to do, and I’m sure he’d love to custom-make a set of divider bars. Maybe I could bribe him into welding some pansy-ass design with it so you’d have to explain away the impressions in your skin after you’ve been sent flying into it.”
“Try it. I’m game.”
“Do you want to become the next Jim Kirk?” the sergeant asked semi-seriously as he pulled the car into Chris’ driveway.
Ethan unbuckled his seat belt and reached his hand across the car. Accepting the handshake from McCoy, he said, “No, man. I think you’ve got your hands full with Jim. I’ll stay on the sidelines until you need someone else to amuse you.”
“Don’t hold your breath. Jim’s enough trouble to last me a lifetime.”
Ethan looked down and smirked before he lifted himself up and out of the car. Leaning his right arm on the roof, he bent down and stuck his head back into the cabin of the vehicle. “Hey, you said it, not me: he’s good practice. Maybe you can put it to good use when Joanna tells you she’s getting married.”
McCoy snorted loudly and rolled his eyes. “God help us all then.”
“I hear that. Might actually be a good reason to start another pool,” the younger Pike said with mirth in his voice and mischief in his eyes.
“Ethan,” McCoy warned, low and threatening.
“Okay, okay! I surrender!” he replied, tossing his hands up in the air. Shifting, Ethan added, “Thanks for the ride, McCoy, and for the coffee.”
“My pleasure. Least I could do.” Len motioned toward the front door with a flick of his long fingers. “Now, get your ass inside before your dad tries to shoot us both. I can’t go to work with holes in me, that’s for damned sure.”
Ethan was about to close the door to the car when something poked him in the leg. The teen reached into the deep recesses of his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He reached back into the car, popped the glove box and tossed the flat white legal envelope back in. At McCoy’s questioning eyebrow, he said, “That’s a little something for you in there. After you guys left, I pulled the guilt trip on Dad. He caved and gave me a third of Serdeski’s pool. I figured it’s only fair you get half the cut, since I wouldn’t have made money tonight if it wasn’t for you.”
McCoy thought back to the picture that started the whole mess and smiled fondly. It was amazing how much could change in a dozen years. There was no way McCoy could have ever imagined that he’d be sitting in Pike’s driveway at midnight, dropping his former partner’s son off after a long but impromptu chat (and one that he truly enjoyed). His relationship with Ethan was natural and friendly, and such a far cry from how unsure he was around the boy in the early years. Len realized long ago that he was lucky to have found an adoptive family, and he was thankful that he was afforded the opportunity from complete strangers when they clearly didn’t have to.
Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t give them a little hell from time to time. McCoy smirked and accepted the knuckle bump from Ethan’s outstretched hand. Echoing a compliment he uttered twelve years earlier, the sergeant said with a proud nod, “Pretty good, kid.”
Ethan grinned from ear to ear with the mega-smile he used when he needed to get out of trouble. “I learned from the best.”
“You did. And don’t you ever forget that.”
--FIN--