kbk
in
kirk_mccoy
fic: Five Letters McCoy Didn't Send, And One He Did
Title: Five Letters McCoy Didn't Send, And One He Did
Author: kbk
Fandom: ST:AOS
Rating: ...PG-13 for language, I think
Warnings: none
Summary: See title.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and I make no profit from this.
Notes: Five things is kind of cliche, I know, but I haven't written anything in ages and then one of these letters twisted my arm and demanded writing; and I've been sitting on this as-is for a couple of weeks now, and I think it's time I let go of it. *twitches* I just have to press the button...
===
One
===
Kirk,
I'm writing this down because this way you might actually pay attention, and not just talk over me.
You're a bright kid, despite how you try to hide it, and you're clearly not having any trouble making friends now we've started classes. So I don't understand why you're still trailing around after me.
I've put up with it for a few weeks, now. At first, it was because you needed some help, and I could give it. It went on because you're kind of amusing, in small doses, and you're really bad at taking hints.
Frankly, kid, the only thing we have in common is that we stuck out like sore thumbs on that damn shuttle. These days, we're in red like all the rest. You can find some people that actually enjoy the things that seem to constitute your idea of fun, and I can go for a quiet drink with the other sad old bastards. And you can go to the clinic like everyone else, instead of expecting me to be your pet doctor.
I don't mean to be harsh, kid, and if you still want to go for a drink once in a while, you know how to reach me. But I won't be holding my breath.
McCoy
===
Two
===
For the attention of: Commandant of Cadets, Starfleet Academy
Dear Sir,
I hereby tender my official withdrawal from the Starfleet Medical Academy. It has become increasingly clear to me that I am not the type of person Starfleet is looking for, as I have a mind of my own and will not give idiocy a pass simply because it comes wrapped in shiny gold braid. (My attitude problem is a matter of record, thanks to one supervisor, four instructors, five colleagues, and no fewer than twenty-two fellow cadets.)
Add to that my unwillingness to travel in space - the area in which, I am reliably informed, the majority of Starfleet operates - and it must be obvious that this is the correct decision for all involved.
I wish to thank you for allowing me to enroll in the Medical Academy. Despite this ending, I have enjoyed some parts of this experience, and will remember them fondly.
Sincerely,
L.H. McCoy, MD, PhD, etc.
=====
Three
=====
Attn: Captain Kirk, USS Enterprise
Dear Jim,
I'm taking the post the hospital offered me. It's advanced surgery, the opportunity for research, almost everything I ever wanted. It's not the job you want me to take.
I can't be your CMO. I'm sorry. I just can't do it.
I had the phobia under control, but after the shitstorm that was our first experience up there... I nearly threw up just watching the shuttles fly from the port.
But I'm not going to lie to you. I got it under control once, I could do it again.
The real problem is you, you reckless bastard.
I can't watch you fling yourself headlong into danger, time and again. You'll be a great captain, because you'll be on the front line every time; but that same quality makes it damn hard to be your friend.
I've patched you up more than a few times over the last three years, and that's just when I was on shift, or you were avoiding the hospital. If I was your CMO, it would be my job every damn time. Every time you came back bleeding, or with broken bones, or unconscious for no good reason, or dying of some disease we've never seen before: every time, I would be the one trying to fix you. And one day, I wouldn't be able to. And that would kill me.
I love you, kid. I can't be the one to let you die.
Sorry.
Bones
====
Four
====
Attn: CMO, USS Enterprise
So you're the unlucky bastard who has to replace me. I don't know what happened to me, but it was apparently unplanned, so I'm guessing I'm dead. Damn shame, since I'm such a wonderful guy that I'm going to give you a few tips on running this Sickbay.
...
1) You aren't running this Sickbay. Your head nurse is. Especially if your head nurse is still Christine Chapel. Trust her, she knows what she's doing.
2) Captain Kirk hates you. It's nothing personal. He hates all doctors. He only tolerates me because I shared my booze the first time we met. Actually, I'm gonna make another list, because he needs a list to himself. More on him later.
3) Expect the unexpected. No, more unexpected than that. The weirdest shit happens on this ship and to this crew. Anyone who's been on board for a year probably has at least one entry in the W section of their medical file. You won't believe them, but they're all true.
4) Spock and Uhura are an item. Don't try to make behavioral predictions from that, because it won't work.
5) Scotty's booze is atrocious, but he's a good man, and between him and Keenser, the gossipy bastards, you can track an STD through the crew with 90% accuracy.
6) Away missions are dangerous. Always. A peaceful planet, a low-risk jaunt - prepare for incoming wounded / infected / crazed-on-space-drugs / ... (see number three). Always have a full medical team on standby throughout the mission, and someone waiting in the transporter bay when they beam back. If the Captain's on the team, make that an emergency response team in the transporter bay.
7) Don't pass off the scut-work on your juniors. They're good people, all of them. You've probably been there, so don't let being Chief go to your head. Medical is a team. The whole ship is a team. It's the Starfleet ethos, all of us working together. So sometimes you take night shift, because nobody likes it, and sometimes you perform the routine physicals, because that's the best way of meeting folks, and sometimes you sing at the damn karaoke nights, because you need them to trust you. There will come a time when lives depend on it.
8) If no-one's cleared out the office yet, there's a bottle in the bottom left drawer. It's good stuff - I'm sipping on a glass as I write - so don't waste it. If you could box up the pictures and such, hand them off to the Captain, I'd appreciate it.
...
All right then.
I said the Captain needed another list. Assuming James T. Kirk is still Captain. (He has a habit of getting into trouble, and he claims he'll die before me; so if I'm dead, there's a chance he is, too, in which case - if there's any justice - Spock's in charge, and I sure can't help you with that one.)
...
1) Kirk hates you. It's not personal. I said it already, but it bears repeating. You're a doctor. Also, I'm his friend, and you're my replacement. Most likely, he will be perfectly professional in his dealings with you. Hell, he may even turn up on time for appointments. Hopefully, that'll wear off. If it never happens for you, it might for your successor, so pass this list on, please.
2) If he yells, yell back. If he threatens to demote you, threaten him back. You can have him taken off duty for non-compliance. You'll probably have to go through with it at least once before he takes your threats seriously.
3) Whenever he comes back from an Away Mission, check him over. If he tells you it's not necessary because I didn't, well, he might think that, but it's bull: I know him well enough to get by with a visual once-over. You might need to follow him to the Bridge to get a good tricorder scan, because he won't come to Sickbay unless he is undeniably in need of it i.e. bleeding out.
4) Don't trust him to tell you when he's hurt. He has an absurdly high pain tolerance and he thinks everyone else should be treated first, even if they've got bruises and he's got broken ribs.
5) Don't read the confidential sections of his medical file unless you're sure you can ignore them. I'm serious about this. If he suspects you've seen them, all hell will break loose. You don't need to know those things in order to treat him. (Unless he gets retrograde amnesia, or some telepath messes with his head, or, well, you get the idea.)
6) You do need to keep an eye on his eating and sleeping habits. The Senior Staff can help with that. Don't hesitate to stick him with a sedative whenever it becomes necessary. (This excludes emergency situations, obviously, because he's the best hope you have of getting out of that emergency with minimal loss of life. In emergencies, give him with as many painkillers and stimulants as he needs.)
7) He'll whine about the hypospray. Ignore it.
8) He dips into cupboard three from time to time. (Ask Chapel about our organisational system.) Anti-histamines are fine; contraceptives a lot less often than rumor would have it; painkillers more than twice in a row means you should check on him. Anything else is probably cause for concern.
9) Don't ever use the restraints on him. Never tie him down, I mean it. If, for any reason, you have to restrain him, he'll fight much less if it's a familiar person holding him down. Most of the crew will volunteer a couple of off-duty hours to stay with him. Start with Senior Staff, Bridge crew, Medical - like I said, familiar.
10) If he's conscious, let him choose his bed; if not, Biobed Eight is his favorite.
11) He loves this ship, and this crew, even the people he can't stand. He loves them with everything that's in him, and that's a hell of a lot. He's difficult, and brilliant, and an annoying jackass, and he loves his crew. Keep that in mind.
...
I loved this crew, too. That's the real reason I'm writing this. They need you to be the best CMO you can, as quickly as possible, and this letter is all I can do to help that along.
You must be an experienced doctor, and you'll have your own way of doing things. Maybe you think I'm wrong. Maybe you think I'm an arrogant bastard trying to control things from beyond the veil. (Of course I'm an arrogant bastard, I'm a surgeon!) But I really do have good intentions, here, and sometimes that's the best you can do. You'll soon see for yourself: the Enterprise isn't like anywhere else in the universe.
You're in for a hell of a ride, Doctor. Try and enjoy it.
Sincerely,
Lieutenant Commander Leonard Horatio McCoy, MD.
====
Five
====
Jim,
I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, you know that. I've run away. Again.
I should have told you sooner, that I've been getting offers, that I didn't automatically sign up for another tour on Enterprise. It's not that I wouldn't... I've had an amazing time out there, Jim, despite the bad times (and of those there were plenty).
You've turned into a great captain, James T. Kirk, and I'm honored to have served with you. You'll have your pick of top-notch candidates for my replacement, I'm sure. Find someone a bit nicer than a grumpy old country doctor.
I wish you well in your future endeavors and hope you'll keep me updated, from time to time. I'll let you know my address once I'm settled.
That's us on a vaguely professional level.
More personally, well. I feel like shit for doing this, but I just can't keep on... whatever it is we were doing, I don't even know. I don't think you do either. And I'm a coward for not forcing a discussion, but I think it's easier this way. We can still be friends with a few light-years between us.
We can, Jim. Shit, I know I'm leaving you, and you hate that, but I can't stay. You know what that feels like, at least.
It's not your fault. I'm just fucked up.
I don't know what else to say. I don't want to make excuses. I'm a fucked up asshole and I left without giving you the chance to change my mind.
I'm sorry.
I'm real bad at showing it, but I love the hell out of you, Jim. You know that, right?
I'll miss you.
Love,
Bones
===
One
===
Attn: Chapel, Chekov, Scott, Spock, Sulu, Uhura
Jim and I are doing a thing on Wednesday. 1600 on the Observation Deck; dress up nice. If you don't show up, you don't get to come to the nice dinner afterwards, either.
Don't mention this to Jim or me before the time comes; we've got cold feet already.
McCoy
Author: kbk
Fandom: ST:AOS
Rating: ...PG-13 for language, I think
Warnings: none
Summary: See title.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and I make no profit from this.
Notes: Five things is kind of cliche, I know, but I haven't written anything in ages and then one of these letters twisted my arm and demanded writing; and I've been sitting on this as-is for a couple of weeks now, and I think it's time I let go of it. *twitches* I just have to press the button...
===
One
===
Kirk,
I'm writing this down because this way you might actually pay attention, and not just talk over me.
You're a bright kid, despite how you try to hide it, and you're clearly not having any trouble making friends now we've started classes. So I don't understand why you're still trailing around after me.
I've put up with it for a few weeks, now. At first, it was because you needed some help, and I could give it. It went on because you're kind of amusing, in small doses, and you're really bad at taking hints.
Frankly, kid, the only thing we have in common is that we stuck out like sore thumbs on that damn shuttle. These days, we're in red like all the rest. You can find some people that actually enjoy the things that seem to constitute your idea of fun, and I can go for a quiet drink with the other sad old bastards. And you can go to the clinic like everyone else, instead of expecting me to be your pet doctor.
I don't mean to be harsh, kid, and if you still want to go for a drink once in a while, you know how to reach me. But I won't be holding my breath.
McCoy
===
Two
===
For the attention of: Commandant of Cadets, Starfleet Academy
Dear Sir,
I hereby tender my official withdrawal from the Starfleet Medical Academy. It has become increasingly clear to me that I am not the type of person Starfleet is looking for, as I have a mind of my own and will not give idiocy a pass simply because it comes wrapped in shiny gold braid. (My attitude problem is a matter of record, thanks to one supervisor, four instructors, five colleagues, and no fewer than twenty-two fellow cadets.)
Add to that my unwillingness to travel in space - the area in which, I am reliably informed, the majority of Starfleet operates - and it must be obvious that this is the correct decision for all involved.
I wish to thank you for allowing me to enroll in the Medical Academy. Despite this ending, I have enjoyed some parts of this experience, and will remember them fondly.
Sincerely,
L.H. McCoy, MD, PhD, etc.
=====
Three
=====
Attn: Captain Kirk, USS Enterprise
Dear Jim,
I'm taking the post the hospital offered me. It's advanced surgery, the opportunity for research, almost everything I ever wanted. It's not the job you want me to take.
I can't be your CMO. I'm sorry. I just can't do it.
I had the phobia under control, but after the shitstorm that was our first experience up there... I nearly threw up just watching the shuttles fly from the port.
But I'm not going to lie to you. I got it under control once, I could do it again.
The real problem is you, you reckless bastard.
I can't watch you fling yourself headlong into danger, time and again. You'll be a great captain, because you'll be on the front line every time; but that same quality makes it damn hard to be your friend.
I've patched you up more than a few times over the last three years, and that's just when I was on shift, or you were avoiding the hospital. If I was your CMO, it would be my job every damn time. Every time you came back bleeding, or with broken bones, or unconscious for no good reason, or dying of some disease we've never seen before: every time, I would be the one trying to fix you. And one day, I wouldn't be able to. And that would kill me.
I love you, kid. I can't be the one to let you die.
Sorry.
Bones
====
Four
====
Attn: CMO, USS Enterprise
So you're the unlucky bastard who has to replace me. I don't know what happened to me, but it was apparently unplanned, so I'm guessing I'm dead. Damn shame, since I'm such a wonderful guy that I'm going to give you a few tips on running this Sickbay.
...
1) You aren't running this Sickbay. Your head nurse is. Especially if your head nurse is still Christine Chapel. Trust her, she knows what she's doing.
2) Captain Kirk hates you. It's nothing personal. He hates all doctors. He only tolerates me because I shared my booze the first time we met. Actually, I'm gonna make another list, because he needs a list to himself. More on him later.
3) Expect the unexpected. No, more unexpected than that. The weirdest shit happens on this ship and to this crew. Anyone who's been on board for a year probably has at least one entry in the W section of their medical file. You won't believe them, but they're all true.
4) Spock and Uhura are an item. Don't try to make behavioral predictions from that, because it won't work.
5) Scotty's booze is atrocious, but he's a good man, and between him and Keenser, the gossipy bastards, you can track an STD through the crew with 90% accuracy.
6) Away missions are dangerous. Always. A peaceful planet, a low-risk jaunt - prepare for incoming wounded / infected / crazed-on-space-drugs / ... (see number three). Always have a full medical team on standby throughout the mission, and someone waiting in the transporter bay when they beam back. If the Captain's on the team, make that an emergency response team in the transporter bay.
7) Don't pass off the scut-work on your juniors. They're good people, all of them. You've probably been there, so don't let being Chief go to your head. Medical is a team. The whole ship is a team. It's the Starfleet ethos, all of us working together. So sometimes you take night shift, because nobody likes it, and sometimes you perform the routine physicals, because that's the best way of meeting folks, and sometimes you sing at the damn karaoke nights, because you need them to trust you. There will come a time when lives depend on it.
8) If no-one's cleared out the office yet, there's a bottle in the bottom left drawer. It's good stuff - I'm sipping on a glass as I write - so don't waste it. If you could box up the pictures and such, hand them off to the Captain, I'd appreciate it.
...
All right then.
I said the Captain needed another list. Assuming James T. Kirk is still Captain. (He has a habit of getting into trouble, and he claims he'll die before me; so if I'm dead, there's a chance he is, too, in which case - if there's any justice - Spock's in charge, and I sure can't help you with that one.)
...
1) Kirk hates you. It's not personal. I said it already, but it bears repeating. You're a doctor. Also, I'm his friend, and you're my replacement. Most likely, he will be perfectly professional in his dealings with you. Hell, he may even turn up on time for appointments. Hopefully, that'll wear off. If it never happens for you, it might for your successor, so pass this list on, please.
2) If he yells, yell back. If he threatens to demote you, threaten him back. You can have him taken off duty for non-compliance. You'll probably have to go through with it at least once before he takes your threats seriously.
3) Whenever he comes back from an Away Mission, check him over. If he tells you it's not necessary because I didn't, well, he might think that, but it's bull: I know him well enough to get by with a visual once-over. You might need to follow him to the Bridge to get a good tricorder scan, because he won't come to Sickbay unless he is undeniably in need of it i.e. bleeding out.
4) Don't trust him to tell you when he's hurt. He has an absurdly high pain tolerance and he thinks everyone else should be treated first, even if they've got bruises and he's got broken ribs.
5) Don't read the confidential sections of his medical file unless you're sure you can ignore them. I'm serious about this. If he suspects you've seen them, all hell will break loose. You don't need to know those things in order to treat him. (Unless he gets retrograde amnesia, or some telepath messes with his head, or, well, you get the idea.)
6) You do need to keep an eye on his eating and sleeping habits. The Senior Staff can help with that. Don't hesitate to stick him with a sedative whenever it becomes necessary. (This excludes emergency situations, obviously, because he's the best hope you have of getting out of that emergency with minimal loss of life. In emergencies, give him with as many painkillers and stimulants as he needs.)
7) He'll whine about the hypospray. Ignore it.
8) He dips into cupboard three from time to time. (Ask Chapel about our organisational system.) Anti-histamines are fine; contraceptives a lot less often than rumor would have it; painkillers more than twice in a row means you should check on him. Anything else is probably cause for concern.
9) Don't ever use the restraints on him. Never tie him down, I mean it. If, for any reason, you have to restrain him, he'll fight much less if it's a familiar person holding him down. Most of the crew will volunteer a couple of off-duty hours to stay with him. Start with Senior Staff, Bridge crew, Medical - like I said, familiar.
10) If he's conscious, let him choose his bed; if not, Biobed Eight is his favorite.
11) He loves this ship, and this crew, even the people he can't stand. He loves them with everything that's in him, and that's a hell of a lot. He's difficult, and brilliant, and an annoying jackass, and he loves his crew. Keep that in mind.
...
I loved this crew, too. That's the real reason I'm writing this. They need you to be the best CMO you can, as quickly as possible, and this letter is all I can do to help that along.
You must be an experienced doctor, and you'll have your own way of doing things. Maybe you think I'm wrong. Maybe you think I'm an arrogant bastard trying to control things from beyond the veil. (Of course I'm an arrogant bastard, I'm a surgeon!) But I really do have good intentions, here, and sometimes that's the best you can do. You'll soon see for yourself: the Enterprise isn't like anywhere else in the universe.
You're in for a hell of a ride, Doctor. Try and enjoy it.
Sincerely,
Lieutenant Commander Leonard Horatio McCoy, MD.
====
Five
====
Jim,
I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, you know that. I've run away. Again.
I should have told you sooner, that I've been getting offers, that I didn't automatically sign up for another tour on Enterprise. It's not that I wouldn't... I've had an amazing time out there, Jim, despite the bad times (and of those there were plenty).
You've turned into a great captain, James T. Kirk, and I'm honored to have served with you. You'll have your pick of top-notch candidates for my replacement, I'm sure. Find someone a bit nicer than a grumpy old country doctor.
I wish you well in your future endeavors and hope you'll keep me updated, from time to time. I'll let you know my address once I'm settled.
That's us on a vaguely professional level.
More personally, well. I feel like shit for doing this, but I just can't keep on... whatever it is we were doing, I don't even know. I don't think you do either. And I'm a coward for not forcing a discussion, but I think it's easier this way. We can still be friends with a few light-years between us.
We can, Jim. Shit, I know I'm leaving you, and you hate that, but I can't stay. You know what that feels like, at least.
It's not your fault. I'm just fucked up.
I don't know what else to say. I don't want to make excuses. I'm a fucked up asshole and I left without giving you the chance to change my mind.
I'm sorry.
I'm real bad at showing it, but I love the hell out of you, Jim. You know that, right?
I'll miss you.
Love,
Bones
===
One
===
Attn: Chapel, Chekov, Scott, Spock, Sulu, Uhura
Jim and I are doing a thing on Wednesday. 1600 on the Observation Deck; dress up nice. If you don't show up, you don't get to come to the nice dinner afterwards, either.
Don't mention this to Jim or me before the time comes; we've got cold feet already.
McCoy