Fic: "The Needs of the Few" (1/23)
Title: "The Needs of the Few"
Betas: nightshadow_t2, caera1996, mga1999
Test Readers: kimuracarter, spacehawk, gone_ashore
Series: ST: XI
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6,513 for chapter 1.
Warnings: Foul language, political situations, military stuff.
Disclaimer: Gene Roddenberry is God, Paramount Pictures is Pope, and this is the blasphemy of a wayward faithful. My geeky spirit is rich, but my purse is empty.
Summary: As cadets on a summer internship, Kirk and McCoy are supposed to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut. As far as Bones is concerned, that’s just plain wrong on Jim Kirk, but Jim seems determined to follow orders and fall in line for a change. After all, they’ve both seen enough trouble in two years at the Academy, and this is the Peace Mission of Axanar. However, when a mystery starts to weave itself around the mission, and the senior officers don’t seem interested in investigating, how far can Kirk and McCoy let it go?
NOTES: First, I must acknoweldge my amazing Trophy Wife, fiona_fawkes. Not only did she help me brainstorm this monstrosity, but she also put up with me while I was writing it, understood when I had to retreat into my cave and ignore the dishes in the sink, and then test-read the whole thing and helped me fix several logistical disasters. Thanks, honey. You're the Bones to my Jim.
This fic is part of my Academy Series, and is the 4th story in this arc. While this story CAN stand on its own, a lot of things (particularly character development and history) will make a lot more sense if you read the whole thing. The other stories in the Academy Series can be found on my LJ, or more conveniently, at my AO3, HERE.
Anyway, this has been a long time coming. It got sidetracked due to real life, writer's block, and all the usual bullshit. I hope it turns out the way I'd hoped.
The Needs of the Few
Chapter 1
The seats were really goddamned uncomfortable. That hadn't changed.
Leonard McCoy was sitting next to Jim Kirk in the field house at Starfleet Academy. It was the only indoor area on campus large enough to hold the faculty, staff, cadets, new graduates, and all their families. The high, transparent aluminum ceilings let in what little daylight eked through the clouds, fog, and rain outside. The temporary stage was festively adorned with banners and crowned with the flags of every Federation homeworld. Neat rows of cadets sat perfectly still as Admiral Barnett delivered the commencement address.
Leonard snuck a sideways glance at Jim.
Two years ago, Jim would have simply gotten up and left, rather than let anyone tell him to sit quietly on polymer chairs that were never meant to be used by any human with functional nerve endings. He would have deemed the ceremony a sanctimonious pony show and walked out. That was before he’d taken up a dare, for reasons that he’d claimed he hadn’t quite understood at the time, and donned the uniform his father had once worn.
One year ago, Jim had sat through the ceremony, but he’d fidgeted the whole time. Squirmed. His untamed energy had his leg twitching, even as he’d struggled to restrain himself and act like the Medal of Honor recipient that he was, even if fewer than a dozen people knew about it. He’d occasionally hissed sideways at Leonard, and complained under his breath about the goddamned seats. He had frequently peeked at the chrono, probably wondering when the crusty old Admiral at the podium would shut up so he could get on with celebrating the simple fact that he’d survived the year.
That was before he’d come within a heartbeat of not surviving it. That was before Jim had realized he couldn’t do it all on his own, that fate was an illusion at best, and that he couldn’t save everyone. That was before he’d been thrown out of the center of his own universe and had finally stepped into a larger world.
No, the seats hadn’t changed, but Jim Kirk certainly had.
The young man’s face was set firmly, respectfully. He was listening to the Admiral’s speech; not daydreaming, but actively listening. Shoulders relaxed but not slouched. Hands resting on his knees, sitting at attention. The picture of a model Starfleet cadet.
Then, as if sensing that Leonard was looking at him, his head turned just the slightest bit and he made eye contact. A sly, subtle grin lit his face, and, as if in answer to an unspoken question, he winked.
Leonard rolled his eyes.
Okay, so maybe not everything had changed.
Soon, the speech ended, and Leonard did not get slightly choked up as he watched a solemn procession of Cadets First Class march up to the stage, one by one, to receive their branch insignia and official commissions as Starfleet Officers. The newly commissioned officers were mostly ensigns, but some cadets with advanced degrees were commissioned directly to the rank of lieutenant. With two doctorate degrees, Leonard knew he’d start with the higher rank. For that matter, he could technically graduate in three years, since he didn’t have to complete medical school in addition to the basic requirements for medical officer candidates. It was a little secret he’d been keeping from Jim.
If Jim’s excessively ambitious plan to graduate in three years failed, Leonard could always do another research project. Stay planetside until Jim was ready to launch his own career. Sure, they could go their separate ways, but for reasons Leonard didn’t quite want to define, he didn’t want to. Jim was his best friend, something like the brother he’d never had, and they’d been through hell together, more than once. That meant something. He’d promised the kid he’d go with him, and wouldn’t leave without him, if at all possible. He intended to keep that promise.
Whether they graduated in three or four years, Jim would receive his commission as an ensign, and Leonard had to wonder how long that rank could contain him. Despite the year’s setbacks, Jim’s determination hadn’t waned, and he’d finished an unbelievable course load during the spring semester. He’d recovered from the shuttle crash, cleared from both medical and psychological injuries. Jim still had some emotional scars, but he was handling them well, and doing it under immense strain.
For the first time in their history together, Leonard had watched the signs of exhaustion really start to pull on a man who usually radiated energy like a fusion reactor. He had been sure Jim would eventually crack under the pressure, but to his wonder and amazement, it was like watching coal form a diamond in front of him. A very rough diamond, with dark circles under his eyes and a propensity to catch head colds too easily, but still... he shined.
Leonard snuck another quick glance at Jim, and was somewhat stunned to see a sheen of moisture on the kid’s cheeks. Graduations were rites of passage, and it looked as though Jim had finally reached a point in his life where the weight of such events meant something to him. At one point, Jim wouldn’t have cared, and Leonard would guess that it was because somewhere along the way, Jim had become convinced that he’d never reach such a milestone, and that even if he did, no one would notice or care. Now, it was within his grasp, and people were watching him.
Leonard turned his attention away from Jim to watch the ceremony. He wouldn’t mention what he’d seen.
As the last of the graduates descended from the stage, the familiar form of Captain Pike stepped up to the podium. Admiral Barnett was the Commander of Starfleet Academy, but Captain Pike was Commandant of Cadets. Traditionally a Captain’s position, it was technically a command post. While the Admiral ran the academy itself, the Commandant led the cadets. The Commandant gave a final send-off at the end of the commissioning ceremony - usually a superfluous, rambling lecture about great adventures and embarking on the future and some such dribble. Light-hearted, with a pretense at profundity.
Somehow, with the way this year had gone, and the type of guy Pike seemed to be, Leonard had higher hopes.
A polite round of applause faded as Pike cleared his throat. He looked down at the graduates in the front rows.
“If you have crossed this stage today, then you’ve already learned everything this Academy can teach you, and there’s little left to say. Classes are over, but remember - training doesn’t end. Your education as a Starfleet officer is a continuum, and a commission is just one small signpost on a long journey. May your words be direct, your actions beyond reproach, your sense of duty profound, and your curiosity as infinite as the reaches of space that you will soon explore. If you follow that, then you will proudly represent the best of Starfleet as we continue our journey across the stars. In the old naval tradition, I wish you clear horizons and fair winds ahead.”
Then, Pike’s head lifted, and his gaze swept across the crowd, to the back of the vast audience.
“For those of you who are still waiting to cross this stage, there’s a lot left to say. That’s why you’re not going anywhere yet.”
A light chuckle rippled through the crowd.
Pike gave a subtle grin. “I also have some advice. If training is a continuum, then you’re already well along your journey with Starfleet. Graduation isn’t what makes a Starfleet officer. It’s the slow progress you make every day. A cadet’s uniform is still a Starfleet uniform; a privilege and a responsibility. It’s a mark of duty and honor. You earn it every day you wake up and fulfill your commitments. You also face risks every day.
“While we often think of the Academy as an isolated environment in which to train - a place with a safety net where you can test your abilities before you ever face any real risks - the reality of your uniform bears a heavier weight. This year we remember the loss of Cadet Second Class Abhaya Tambe.” He paused, and Leonard watched the slight shifting in the crowd around him, as the previously statuesque rows of cadets reacted to the memory, looking at each other, murmuring and whispering. A quick glance to the side allowed Leonard to see the tight clench of Jim’s jawline, the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Behind the podium, Pike bowed his head briefly before looking back at the crowd.
“Tambe’s rank was Cadet, but she was a leader in the eyes of Starfleet, and her peers. She led her flight squad into the black. The fact that it was a training flight was irrelevant; the danger and risk is still real. It’s real every day. Space doesn’t care about the rank on your collar. As members of Starfleet, whether cadets, crewmen, or officers, we embrace that risk. To honor her memory, and the memories of all Starfleet personnel who have been lost in the black, you need to remember that the burden of leadership and duty begins the moment you don a Starfleet uniform.
“Cadets, reach up to your collars and feel that insignia. Go ahead, do it.”
Feeling a bit awkward, and surprised by the unusual order, Leonard reached up and ran his fingers along the smooth, cool metal of the golden delta insignia on his collar. When he’d received it with his uniform during in-processing the day he’d arrived at the Academy, it hadn’t seemed like much of a big deal. It was just another thing he had to do if he wanted any chance of salvaging his career as a doctor. He had no personal attachment to the simple triangular badge. He just wanted to graduate and get on with doing something worthwhile with his life.
Now, he felt something else. Warm and thick, a sense of pride welled up in his chest, tightening his throat. His eyes felt hot, and he barely managed to blink back a couple of tears that threatened to spill over.
Well, damn.
So maybe it was more than just salvaging his career now.
He glanced over at Jim again, wondering what Jim was thinking about as he considered his own insignia, but this time, Jim was looking back at him, wearing an enigmatic sort of grin. Jim gave him a slight nod, then returned his attention to Pike.
“That insignia, Cadets, is a symbol of the legacy you carry with you. Those who have gone before you have created this legacy. The Federation was built on the sacrifices of dozens of planets and species, beginning in the days before any of our civilizations achieved trans-warp flight, and long before our various civilizations crossed paths amongst the stars. Exploration began before space flight, on the firm ground and vast oceans of our planets. Brave souls who risked everything to push the limits of knowledge and exploration, because they believed in a greater purpose and a bigger world. They made the decision to leave behind the illusions of comfort and safety, and to explore new frontiers, crossing mountains and deserts, oceans and continents. They laid the foundation for the work we continue to do.
“You’re part of that tradition now. You’re already members of Starfleet, and there’s not a sentient being in this quadrant who would fail to recognize that. As you continue to work towards your commissions, remember that. Don’t be afraid to take on greater challenges, to embrace opportunities, and to boldly go where others fear to tread.
“But at the end of the day, that insignia is only a symbol. We wear it with pride, and live up to the ideals it represents, but our decisions and our actions are what define us as members of Starfleet. Our past has created our legacy, but our decisions and actions forge our future. And each of you, individually, regardless of the symbol on your collar, will forge your own future.”
“As we send off our new officers today, remember that you’ll be following them very soon. When you do, be sure that your own actions and decisions create a legacy that you would be proud to leave behind.”
Pike’s solemn expression slowly morphed into an amused grin. “And I would advise that you keep that in mind during the academic break.”
Another subdued chuckled worked through the audience. Leonard felt himself grinning, too.
Pike nodded to the assembled crowd. “Cadets! Attention!”
Leonard jumped to his feet in perfect synchronicity with the rest of the cadets in the audience, moving as one with hundreds of other people. The unity in the movement was oddly gratifying, and he stood straight and tall with his heels tightly pressed together, hands curled neatly at his sides.
“A round of applause for our new officers!” Pike instructed enthusiastically.
The cadets, along with the assembled families and friends of the newly commissioned officers, needed no further persuasion. The surge of applause, punctuated with hoots, hollers, whistles, and cheers, filled the field house with a deafening roar, reverberating off the high ceilings. Somewhere in the middle of the cheering, Leonard thought he heard Pike officially dismiss the assembled cadets, and the crowd began to ooze out through the aisles between the chairs.
Leonard turned towards Jim and nudged his arm with an elbow. “Hey,” he said over the crowd, almost feeling like he needed to shout to be heard. “Where are you going next? I was going to go rest up a bit before heading out, but did you have a plan for tonight?” They hadn’t discussed it, but Leonard had assumed that Jim would probably be up for a few drinks at one of their favorite watering holes. Cadets and new officers alike would be celebrating all over the city tonight, and Jim rarely missed celebrations like that.
Jim turned to him with an odd look on his face. It was a smile, but it seemed just a bit off. “Of course I’ve got a plan. Figured we’d head out on the town. I just need to go take care of something first.”
Leonard frowned. “Oh?”
“It shouldn’t take long. I’ll give you a call when I’m done. I was thinking O’Leary’s Pub for tonight. I know a bunch of guys who are heading over there around 1900 hours. I can meet you there.” The grin broadened into one of Jim’s classic shit-eating billboards, but his speech was just a bit stilted and halting. “First round’s on me.”
Leonard wanted to drill Jim for an explanation, but he’d learned one thing about Jim if nothing else: he’d tell you when he was damned well good and ready and not a moment sooner. You just had to let the kid do whatever he was going to do, because he was gonna do it anyway. “Okay, Jim. Just promise me that whatever you do, you’re not going to spend the first night of your semester break in Pike’s office getting a lecture for some crazy stunt.”
Jim clapped a hand dramatically over his heart. “Ouch! You wound me, Bones!”
“I know you, Jim.”
“And I know you just as well, Mr. Devil Came From Georgia. Who was the man who triggered a biohaz lockdown of the field house to stop the Parisi Squares tournament? All because he didn’t want to spend his Friday evening mending dislocated shoulders and cracked skulls?”
Leonard couldn’t quite stop the smirk of amusement. When he felt motivated, he could be quite talented with pranks. “The difference is that when I pull a prank, nobody can prove a thing.”
“Right,” Jim said, stretching the word out in a sarcastic drawl.
Leonard raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Come on, Jim. What have you got planned?”
Just like that, Jim’s grin faltered and his shoulders slumped. “I’m not pulling any graduation day pranks. I just got my final transcripts for the semester transmitted to my PADD before I ran over here for the ceremony.”
Leonard felt a twist of worry. Jim’s three-year graduation plan was riding on a knife’s edge. “You’ve been working your ass off all semester. Did something go wrong?”
“I don’t know. My transcripts were tagged ‘incomplete.’ That’s why I need to deal with this as soon as possible, before summer semester starts next Monday. My eligibility for some of the summer courses depends on what I took this spring.”
“Well that’s not good. Why were they incomplete? Did you miss an exam? Not pass something?”
But Jim just shook his head. “Last I knew, I was passing everything with top marks. I won’t know what’s wrong until I talk to...” His eyes flicked up and past Leonard’s shoulder. “Here... I’ve gotta go take care of this, but I’ll comm you after I’m done.”
“Okay, but -”
Leonard didn’t know what sort of protest he was trying to give, or why, but it didn’t matter, because Jim Kirk had already dodged past a thick knot of cadets and had disappeared into the crowd. Shaking his head to himself, Leonard slowly pushed through the shuffling throng of people, trying to make his way to the exit so he could escape the claustrophobic crunch of celebrating cadets. When he finally got to the door, he turned and looked back, craning his neck in an attempt to spot Jim.
After only a moment, he saw the familiar tuft of dirty blond hair next to a cluster of officers near the front of the stage. Jim waited, holding a formal position of attention until Captain Pike separated from the other officers and approached him. They spoke briefly, and then Pike inclined his head and began walking towards the door, with Kirk tight on his heels.
Curious, but not surprised, Leonard raised an eyebrow to himself, then escaped from the field house.
*********
The wind bit sharply through Leonard’s jacket as he made his way from the dormitories to the south gate of the main campus. The rain had stopped, but it was excessively cold for May. The quad was almost completely abandoned. It was only four hours after the graduation ceremony had ended, but most cadets had already left with their families, caught transports back home, or had disappeared into the city to start the semester break with a proper celebration.
As for Leonard... he just grumbled and tugged his jacket tighter around himself.
While he’d been waiting for Jim to comm him, he’d received an infuriating bit of news. He’d been promised a week with Joanna for the summer. He’d thought it would be whenever he was able to get to Georgia to pick up his little girl. He had two weeks off, starting tomorrow, and had planned to catch a shuttle to Atlanta in the morning. Instead, when he’d patched a communique through to Jocelyn’s ID code, it was routed to the Mars Colony, where his ex-wife and daughter were visiting Joce’s sister for three weeks. They’d be back in sixteen days. And by then, Leonard would be a dozen sectors away, doing shipboard research for his aviophobia project.
The infuriating part of it was that it was his own fault. He’d never actually told Jocelyn when he was coming. He’d just assumed she’d be there, and he could take his daughter for the week whenever it was convenient for him.
It wasn’t a particularly new behavior on his part.
He’d blamed Jocelyn for the divorce. He’d mentally summarized the implosion of his marriage as a product of the debacle over his father’s death and Jocelyn’s refusal to support him. It was all because of her greed and self-centered behavior. That’s what he’d told himself.
Now, after a couple of years, some experience, and a new perspective on what it meant to be there for someone, he realized that he’d been an egocentric prick. Joce hadn’t been innocent - not by a long shot - but then, neither had he. He’d wrapped himself in his work before he’d assisted in his father’s suicide, and drowned himself in bourbon afterwards. He wasn’t an easy man in the best of times, and that? That had been hell. Jocelyn hadn’t been there for him, but dammit, how could anyone have been there for him when he was in that state? Why would they want to? He certainly hadn’t been there for his baby girl through that whole mess. And now, it would be months before he’d see his Joanna again, all because he’d been too caught up in his own shit. All because the world revolved around Leonard Hothead McCoy.
The wind kicked up again, and he wrapped his arms tighter around his jacket. He was going to spend his summer alone in the depths of space, without his daughter or his best friend, and he had nobody to blame but himself.
But for now, he had two weeks until he was going to ship out. Jim would be around, taking courses over the summer semester so he could begin the following academic year as a Cadet First Class. And then, once Leonard was aboard the USS Athena, he’d be so wrapped up in his research that it wouldn’t matter. Jim hadn’t been too thrilled with the idea of Leonard going on a real deep space mission without him, but cadets couldn’t get shipboard internships unless they had already been promoted to Cadet First Class. Leonard told Jim he had gotten a waiver for the posting because he already had his medical license, but in truth, he already had the promotion. The internship had seemed like an excellent opportunity at the time, but now, it didn’t seem like such a great idea.
It had been far too long since he’d seen Joanna in person. She was growing up so fast - four years old now - and he sometimes hated himself for not being there. For his first year at the Academy, he had been so busy that his own daughter became an afterthought, with time and distance eroding his parental bonds. So, he’d convinced Jocelyn to let him send daily messages to his daughter via vid-comm, and eventually, they’d begun talking a couple of times a week. Even though she’d done well for a toddler in talking over vid-comm, he could only hope she’d still be able to accept him in person. She was bright, but shy, and he wouldn’t know how she’d react until he got there.
He’d make it up to her. He had to.
He’d try to grab a few days of leave when he got back to see Joanna before the fall semester began. Maybe try to make some sort of sincere apology to Jocelyn for being so presumptuous. He didn’t really care what she thought, and he had absolutely no designs on trying to renew the relationship, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to be on civil terms with the mother of his daughter.
For now, however, the only thing he could do would be to try to forget about it for a few hours.
The Academy gate opened, and the cab he’d called was already waiting there for him. He blew out a tight breath in relief that something, no matter how small, was going right. He climbed into the back seat and gave the address to the driver. A moment later, the lights of the city were racing by - blurry streaks on the other side of the cold window. For a moment, he imagined they were the light of passing stars, drawn out into flashing lines by the effect of the warp engines, speeding him through the galaxy, away from his daughter. Away from Jim. Away from anything and everything that mattered to him.
It was only a few minutes before the cab slowed and pulled up in front of a rustic-looking pub. Leonard muttered a thanks to the driver, swiped his credit chip against the reader, and hurried into the building.
The inside of the pub was a shock to the system after the cold and quiet of the ride over. A thick crowd and raucous laughter filled every inch of the room. It was a cacophony of clinking beer mugs, smiling waiters, shouting cadets, and even a few Academy instructors who were pretending not to notice some of the cadets’ antics. The lights had a warm yellow hue, and the air smelled like hot French fries and fresh beer.
Leonard had been looking forward to this all week, but now, the only thing keeping him from going back to his dorm and hiding behind his own private stash of bourbon was his promise to meet Jim here. He scanned the crowd. At a small, round table towards the back, he spotted the looming blue figure of Cadet Thaleb, the Andorian on Jim’s flight squad. As he moved towards the table, he finally saw Jim’s smaller form, previously hidden by his enormous squad mate. Jim caught his eye a second later.
“Bones!” he shouted over the crowd, enthusiastically waving him over to their small round table, then lifting a small glass of amber liquor. “We’ve got a round of Knob Creek with your name on it!”
Leonard made it through the dense crowd and gratefully accepted the glass, knocking back a large swallow before sitting down across from Jim. “Thanks, Jim. Hi, Thaleb.”
“Hello, Doctor McCoy.”
Despite his foul mood, Leonard had to smile. He’d been trying to get Thaleb to use his first name since they’d met after Jim’s shuttle accident, and Thaleb’s insistence on formal titles was actually endearing. Leonard didn’t often know how to deal with the vastly different cultures of various Federation species, and he wasn’t always comfortable with figuring out how to interact, but he liked Thaleb. “I’m off-duty. It’s Leonard.”
“A member of Starfleet is always on duty,” Thaleb said sincerely. “Would you not come to the aid of any being in need of your help at any time?”
Ah, Andorian warriors, Leonard thought with a mental sigh. “Sure. But if I’m on-duty, then I can’t finish this bourbon,” he said, raising his glass then tipping back a sip. “And that would be a crime against fine liquor.”
“Here’s to that,” Jim said with a grin before chugging another swallow of beer from his glass. “And here’s to summer semester adventures!” He leaned forward on the table. “I’ve got some news!”
“Oh?” Leonard asked warily. When Jim made an announcement like that, it usually ended with Jim in the infirmary.
“I talked to Captain Pike.”
Suddenly serious, Leonard put down his glass of bourbon and leaned on the table. “What was going on with your transcripts?”
Jim shook his head. “Relax, Bones. They’re fine. Better than fine. I passed everything with flying colors. But... remember when I passed the Assistant Instructor testing?” He grinned broadly. “I got course credit for that! I never realized it was worth actual course credits. I’m closer to promotion than I thought.”
Leonard smiled proudly, then quickly hid the expression with a sip of bourbon. “That’s great, kid. But why the big deal with the incomplete transcripts message?”
“Well, I also took all those weekend tactics seminars. I had figured that the seminars were just individual units. I hadn’t realized that in the credit system, they show up as a full course if you’ve taken all of them. And I did.” Jim leaned forward on the table. “But if I want to have them count as a course, I’d need to take the Tactics and Survival seminar as a capstone. So... you remember that survival training course I wanted to take?”
Leonard furrowed his eyebrows. “You mean the one that you couldn’t take because it overlapped with the start of summer semester on Monday?”
“That’s the one,” Jim said, grinning broadly. “That’s the capstone for the tactics seminar series. And I’m going.”
Leonard knew full well that what Jim wanted was a hearty congratulations, thinly veiled with an eyeroll and a warning not to come back in a dozen pieces. This time, however, Leonard’s protest felt more practical. “Wait a minute... if you’re going on the survival course, how are you going to take the summer semester courses? You’ll miss a week of classes, and I know the Academy doesn’t like that. Wasn’t that how you were going to get your promotion to Cadet First Class before the start of the next academic year?”
“Don’t worry about my promotion, Bones.” Jim’s confident grin took on a mischievous edge. That look never failed to make Leonard nervous. “I’ve got it worked out.”
Leonard gave him a scrutinizing look. “You’re not telling me something.”
“What? Don’t you trust me? It’s just a change of course plans for the summer. That’s why I talked to Pike. He approved the change, and I’m not going to miss any essential courses.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t given the Captain a mental breakdown. How many hoops is he jumping through for you this time?”
“Ouch, Bones! That stings!” Jim feigned dismay, and then took another sip of beer. “Pike didn’t have to jump through hoops. It was all on the level. I earned my way into the survival class, and my summer courses will actually work out just fine.”
“Whatever you say,” Leonard said lightly. He took a small sip of bourbon, savoring the spiciness before swallowing. Then he gave Jim a bemused grin. “Just make sure you come back in one piece. I’ve heard that class is brutal.”
“I’ll be fine, Bones,” Jim replied, raising his mug of beer towards his teammate. “Thaleb is taking the training, too.”
Leonard looked sideways at Thaleb, who nodded solemnly in answer. Leonard nodded back, then raised an eyebrow at Jim. “Are you bringing your whole flight squad?”
Jim shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “Okoru is doing an individual academic course from home in Japan for the summer. Freeman got an internship at Starfleet Headquarters. And d’Eon is working on the Engineering Department’s transporter project.” He reached over and clapped Thaleb on the shoulder. “Which leaves us, right, buddy?”
Thaleb gave Jim an absolutely somber stare. “Someone has to ensure that you don’t end up in a bloody heap at the bottom of a cliff.”
Jim’s mouth fell open and he gaped wordlessly at Thaleb’s unflinching expression for several seconds before Thaleb let out a surprisingly hearty laugh. “I’ve been learning by observing Doctor McCoy.”
Jim looked back and forth between Thaleb and Leonard a few times, appearing utterly gobsmacked. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“Ya got lucky, Jim,” Leonard said with a laugh. “Thaleb, you’re a good man.”
At that, Thaleb stopped laughing and gave Leonard a curious look. “Doctor McCoy, I am not a man.”
Although that fact was blatantly obvious, Leonard found himself actually taken aback by the sincerity of Thaleb’s statement. Not only was the guy not human, but Andorians had four genders, none of which was exactly equivalent to the human gender male. “I... I know that. It’s an Earth phrase. It doesn’t actually... well, I guess it doesn’t even require a person to physically be a male, or even human.”
Thaleb tilted his head in query. “Then what does it mean, if being an actual man isn’t required to be a ‘good man’?”
Leonard swallowed tightly. This was awkward. He held up his glass of bourbon, which was almost empty now, and stared into the amber liquid as he spoke. “I guess... it means a person who’s strong enough to do the right thing. Stands by his convictions. Stands by his friends. Someone who doesn’t run away when other people need him.” He glanced up over the rim of the glass to look at Thaleb, then at Jim. “Someone who makes sure everyone comes back alive.”
Before unwelcome memories from the distant and not-so-distant past could come back to haunt him, Leonard tossed back the rest of his bourbon and closed his eyes, hiding behind the burn.
“A noble set of attributes,” Thaleb said with a hint of satisfaction. “Despite the misnomer, I’ll take it as a compliment. Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”
Leonard raised one eyebrow without actually looking up at Thaleb. “Don’t mention it.” He sat quietly for a few seconds, pointedly not thinking about the father he’d failed to save, his failed commitment to his daughter, and the man sitting across the table who’d brought him back alive. A movement out of the corner of his eye distracted him.
“Great! Food’s starting to arrive.” Jim waved at one of the waiters, who set down a basket of pub rolls and butter.
“Any more drinks?” the waiter said with a knowing smile.
Leonard held out the empty bourbon glass. “Knob Creek. Neat. Make it a double this time.” Then his stomach growled at him and he remembered that he hadn’t eaten since before the graduation ceremony. His conversation with Jocelyn had made short work of his appetite. “And... burger and fries, I guess.”
“No steamed broccoli?” Jim asked, with a serious note under the teasing question.
“Not now, Jim.”
He sat back quietly and started making short work of one of the rolls as Jim ordered another round of the local microbrew and Thaleb took Jim’s suggestion of sampling the pub’s fresh-brewed root beer. A moment later, the waiter had hurried off to get their drinks, and Thaleb had dismissed himself to go use the restroom.
Without preamble, Jim grabbed his chair and swung it around to Leonard’s side of the table so they were practically shoulder to shoulder. He turned his head and leveled Leonard with one of his best ‘don’t bullshit with me’ looks, tempered with just a touch of authentic concern. It was really damned effective. “What the hell is going on, Bones?”
“Nothing, Jim,” he said stiffly. “I’m glad you got your courses figured out. I’m sure you’re gonna have a great time playing soldier out in the woods. And I’m glad Thaleb’s gonna be out there making sure you come back in one piece.” He stuffed a large bite of a roll in his mouth, chewing slowly to avoid talking.
Jim only shook his head. “Right. Thanks. So less about me and more about you,” he said sarcastically. “Come on, Bones. You’ve been miserable since you got here, but earlier, you were the one trying to make sure I was coming out to celebrate. Something happened.”
Leonard returned the unspoken question with a long-suffering sigh. The last thing he wanted was to hash over the details right now, because this time, he really couldn’t blame it on Jocelyn. Telling Jim would mean that he’d have to admit that he wasn't going to see his daughter, and it was his own damned fault. He’d just spend the rest of the evening berating himself. Venting about the ex-wife over booze? That was easy. Raging against his own stupidity? That was just self-punishment.
But then, Jim was nothing if not a persistent bastard.
Leonard took a sip from the glass of water he’d been ignoring since Jim had put the bourbon in his hand, and cleared his throat. “I just had a lovely chat with my ex-wife. That would be enough to put anyone in a foul mood.”
Jim let out a low, sympathetic whistle. “Oh, yeah... I can see how that would do it.” His face brightened. “But hey, you’ll have your daughter soon! And you’ll get to spend all that time with her until you ship out. That’s a reason to be happy, right?”
“Yeah, it is.” He bit off another large bite of the roll.
Jim nudged his shoulder with his own. “See? It’ll be fine. You just need to eat something, blow off some steam, and forget about the old battle-axe for now. Right?”
“Yeah,” Leonard said noncommittally. “So... when do you leave for your survival training?”
Jim’s grin turned smug in an instant. “Tomorrow morning, actually.”
Leonard felt his heart sink. If he couldn’t have his daughter, he’d hoped to at least spend a few days with Jim. Maybe hit the town. Or go on that weekend trip to the Sierra Nevada range they’d discussed. Camping and fishing and stupid guy shit. Forgetting about responsibility for a few days. Instead, Jim was leaving first thing in the morning for a couple of weeks of hellish training - no outside contact allowed - and if his reckoning was right, Jim wouldn’t even get back before Leonard had to leave for the Athena. So... he was alone for the whole summer.
A couple of years ago, when Leonard had resigned himself to a life of seclusion, leaving behind his family and friends and accepting his lot as a lone drifter, it might not have mattered. Now, having found himself a home port and safe harbor, he felt like he’d been cut adrift again. It was disorienting.
“Bones? Hey, you okay?” Jim was nudging his shoulder again.
Leonard gave him an almost-annoyed look, and tried to keep his tone light. “Yeah. I’d just figured you’d be around this weekend. Spend some time before I shipped off.” As soon as he’d said it, he realized that he’d slipped.
Jim narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were heading to Georgia to see Joanna tomorrow morning.”
“Slight delay,” Leonard said as evenly as possible. “I’d figured I was still tired from practicals this week, and maybe you and I could go rent that cabin we talked about for the weekend, seeing as I’ll be gone all summer.”
“Bones.”
Very persistent bastard. “And Joanna is visiting Joce’s sister this weekend. I’d forgotten to check. So it was easier just to wait until Monday.” He gave Jim the best look of sincerity he could fake. “I’m still going, and I’ve still got her for a week. I just delayed it.” He didn’t need to mention that the delay was currently indefinite. Or that Joce's sister lived on Mars.
Jim didn’t really look convinced, but he nodded and downed the last of his beer before grabbing the roll from Leonard’s plate and taking a large bite.
Leonard sputtered at him. “Jim, you social degenerate! Eat your own damned food!”
Jim winked at him. “Yours is tastier.”
Leonard was about to reply when the waiter reached down and deposited a double of bourbon in front of him, replaced Jim’s empty beer mug with a fresh one, and put a frosty mug of root beer at Thaleb’s spot. “Your food will be out in a few minutes, boys. Anything else for now?”
Jim pasted his best smarmy grin on his face. “Only the comm ID of the most gorgeous woman I’ve seen all night, if you’re interested.”
She gave him a friendly but patronizing smile. “You’re cute, Starfleet, but I’m taken. I’ll bring out your food when it’s ready.”
Jim sighed dramatically, then thanked her with a mock-salute.
Leonard rolled his eyes. “Juvenile.”
Some things never changed.
*********
To Chapter 2
Betas: nightshadow_t2, caera1996, mga1999
Test Readers: kimuracarter, spacehawk, gone_ashore
Series: ST: XI
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6,513 for chapter 1.
Warnings: Foul language, political situations, military stuff.
Disclaimer: Gene Roddenberry is God, Paramount Pictures is Pope, and this is the blasphemy of a wayward faithful. My geeky spirit is rich, but my purse is empty.
Summary: As cadets on a summer internship, Kirk and McCoy are supposed to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut. As far as Bones is concerned, that’s just plain wrong on Jim Kirk, but Jim seems determined to follow orders and fall in line for a change. After all, they’ve both seen enough trouble in two years at the Academy, and this is the Peace Mission of Axanar. However, when a mystery starts to weave itself around the mission, and the senior officers don’t seem interested in investigating, how far can Kirk and McCoy let it go?
NOTES: First, I must acknoweldge my amazing Trophy Wife, fiona_fawkes. Not only did she help me brainstorm this monstrosity, but she also put up with me while I was writing it, understood when I had to retreat into my cave and ignore the dishes in the sink, and then test-read the whole thing and helped me fix several logistical disasters. Thanks, honey. You're the Bones to my Jim.
This fic is part of my Academy Series, and is the 4th story in this arc. While this story CAN stand on its own, a lot of things (particularly character development and history) will make a lot more sense if you read the whole thing. The other stories in the Academy Series can be found on my LJ, or more conveniently, at my AO3, HERE.
Anyway, this has been a long time coming. It got sidetracked due to real life, writer's block, and all the usual bullshit. I hope it turns out the way I'd hoped.
The Needs of the Few
Chapter 1
The seats were really goddamned uncomfortable. That hadn't changed.
Leonard McCoy was sitting next to Jim Kirk in the field house at Starfleet Academy. It was the only indoor area on campus large enough to hold the faculty, staff, cadets, new graduates, and all their families. The high, transparent aluminum ceilings let in what little daylight eked through the clouds, fog, and rain outside. The temporary stage was festively adorned with banners and crowned with the flags of every Federation homeworld. Neat rows of cadets sat perfectly still as Admiral Barnett delivered the commencement address.
Leonard snuck a sideways glance at Jim.
Two years ago, Jim would have simply gotten up and left, rather than let anyone tell him to sit quietly on polymer chairs that were never meant to be used by any human with functional nerve endings. He would have deemed the ceremony a sanctimonious pony show and walked out. That was before he’d taken up a dare, for reasons that he’d claimed he hadn’t quite understood at the time, and donned the uniform his father had once worn.
One year ago, Jim had sat through the ceremony, but he’d fidgeted the whole time. Squirmed. His untamed energy had his leg twitching, even as he’d struggled to restrain himself and act like the Medal of Honor recipient that he was, even if fewer than a dozen people knew about it. He’d occasionally hissed sideways at Leonard, and complained under his breath about the goddamned seats. He had frequently peeked at the chrono, probably wondering when the crusty old Admiral at the podium would shut up so he could get on with celebrating the simple fact that he’d survived the year.
That was before he’d come within a heartbeat of not surviving it. That was before Jim had realized he couldn’t do it all on his own, that fate was an illusion at best, and that he couldn’t save everyone. That was before he’d been thrown out of the center of his own universe and had finally stepped into a larger world.
No, the seats hadn’t changed, but Jim Kirk certainly had.
The young man’s face was set firmly, respectfully. He was listening to the Admiral’s speech; not daydreaming, but actively listening. Shoulders relaxed but not slouched. Hands resting on his knees, sitting at attention. The picture of a model Starfleet cadet.
Then, as if sensing that Leonard was looking at him, his head turned just the slightest bit and he made eye contact. A sly, subtle grin lit his face, and, as if in answer to an unspoken question, he winked.
Leonard rolled his eyes.
Okay, so maybe not everything had changed.
Soon, the speech ended, and Leonard did not get slightly choked up as he watched a solemn procession of Cadets First Class march up to the stage, one by one, to receive their branch insignia and official commissions as Starfleet Officers. The newly commissioned officers were mostly ensigns, but some cadets with advanced degrees were commissioned directly to the rank of lieutenant. With two doctorate degrees, Leonard knew he’d start with the higher rank. For that matter, he could technically graduate in three years, since he didn’t have to complete medical school in addition to the basic requirements for medical officer candidates. It was a little secret he’d been keeping from Jim.
If Jim’s excessively ambitious plan to graduate in three years failed, Leonard could always do another research project. Stay planetside until Jim was ready to launch his own career. Sure, they could go their separate ways, but for reasons Leonard didn’t quite want to define, he didn’t want to. Jim was his best friend, something like the brother he’d never had, and they’d been through hell together, more than once. That meant something. He’d promised the kid he’d go with him, and wouldn’t leave without him, if at all possible. He intended to keep that promise.
Whether they graduated in three or four years, Jim would receive his commission as an ensign, and Leonard had to wonder how long that rank could contain him. Despite the year’s setbacks, Jim’s determination hadn’t waned, and he’d finished an unbelievable course load during the spring semester. He’d recovered from the shuttle crash, cleared from both medical and psychological injuries. Jim still had some emotional scars, but he was handling them well, and doing it under immense strain.
For the first time in their history together, Leonard had watched the signs of exhaustion really start to pull on a man who usually radiated energy like a fusion reactor. He had been sure Jim would eventually crack under the pressure, but to his wonder and amazement, it was like watching coal form a diamond in front of him. A very rough diamond, with dark circles under his eyes and a propensity to catch head colds too easily, but still... he shined.
Leonard snuck another quick glance at Jim, and was somewhat stunned to see a sheen of moisture on the kid’s cheeks. Graduations were rites of passage, and it looked as though Jim had finally reached a point in his life where the weight of such events meant something to him. At one point, Jim wouldn’t have cared, and Leonard would guess that it was because somewhere along the way, Jim had become convinced that he’d never reach such a milestone, and that even if he did, no one would notice or care. Now, it was within his grasp, and people were watching him.
Leonard turned his attention away from Jim to watch the ceremony. He wouldn’t mention what he’d seen.
As the last of the graduates descended from the stage, the familiar form of Captain Pike stepped up to the podium. Admiral Barnett was the Commander of Starfleet Academy, but Captain Pike was Commandant of Cadets. Traditionally a Captain’s position, it was technically a command post. While the Admiral ran the academy itself, the Commandant led the cadets. The Commandant gave a final send-off at the end of the commissioning ceremony - usually a superfluous, rambling lecture about great adventures and embarking on the future and some such dribble. Light-hearted, with a pretense at profundity.
Somehow, with the way this year had gone, and the type of guy Pike seemed to be, Leonard had higher hopes.
A polite round of applause faded as Pike cleared his throat. He looked down at the graduates in the front rows.
“If you have crossed this stage today, then you’ve already learned everything this Academy can teach you, and there’s little left to say. Classes are over, but remember - training doesn’t end. Your education as a Starfleet officer is a continuum, and a commission is just one small signpost on a long journey. May your words be direct, your actions beyond reproach, your sense of duty profound, and your curiosity as infinite as the reaches of space that you will soon explore. If you follow that, then you will proudly represent the best of Starfleet as we continue our journey across the stars. In the old naval tradition, I wish you clear horizons and fair winds ahead.”
Then, Pike’s head lifted, and his gaze swept across the crowd, to the back of the vast audience.
“For those of you who are still waiting to cross this stage, there’s a lot left to say. That’s why you’re not going anywhere yet.”
A light chuckle rippled through the crowd.
Pike gave a subtle grin. “I also have some advice. If training is a continuum, then you’re already well along your journey with Starfleet. Graduation isn’t what makes a Starfleet officer. It’s the slow progress you make every day. A cadet’s uniform is still a Starfleet uniform; a privilege and a responsibility. It’s a mark of duty and honor. You earn it every day you wake up and fulfill your commitments. You also face risks every day.
“While we often think of the Academy as an isolated environment in which to train - a place with a safety net where you can test your abilities before you ever face any real risks - the reality of your uniform bears a heavier weight. This year we remember the loss of Cadet Second Class Abhaya Tambe.” He paused, and Leonard watched the slight shifting in the crowd around him, as the previously statuesque rows of cadets reacted to the memory, looking at each other, murmuring and whispering. A quick glance to the side allowed Leonard to see the tight clench of Jim’s jawline, the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Behind the podium, Pike bowed his head briefly before looking back at the crowd.
“Tambe’s rank was Cadet, but she was a leader in the eyes of Starfleet, and her peers. She led her flight squad into the black. The fact that it was a training flight was irrelevant; the danger and risk is still real. It’s real every day. Space doesn’t care about the rank on your collar. As members of Starfleet, whether cadets, crewmen, or officers, we embrace that risk. To honor her memory, and the memories of all Starfleet personnel who have been lost in the black, you need to remember that the burden of leadership and duty begins the moment you don a Starfleet uniform.
“Cadets, reach up to your collars and feel that insignia. Go ahead, do it.”
Feeling a bit awkward, and surprised by the unusual order, Leonard reached up and ran his fingers along the smooth, cool metal of the golden delta insignia on his collar. When he’d received it with his uniform during in-processing the day he’d arrived at the Academy, it hadn’t seemed like much of a big deal. It was just another thing he had to do if he wanted any chance of salvaging his career as a doctor. He had no personal attachment to the simple triangular badge. He just wanted to graduate and get on with doing something worthwhile with his life.
Now, he felt something else. Warm and thick, a sense of pride welled up in his chest, tightening his throat. His eyes felt hot, and he barely managed to blink back a couple of tears that threatened to spill over.
Well, damn.
So maybe it was more than just salvaging his career now.
He glanced over at Jim again, wondering what Jim was thinking about as he considered his own insignia, but this time, Jim was looking back at him, wearing an enigmatic sort of grin. Jim gave him a slight nod, then returned his attention to Pike.
“That insignia, Cadets, is a symbol of the legacy you carry with you. Those who have gone before you have created this legacy. The Federation was built on the sacrifices of dozens of planets and species, beginning in the days before any of our civilizations achieved trans-warp flight, and long before our various civilizations crossed paths amongst the stars. Exploration began before space flight, on the firm ground and vast oceans of our planets. Brave souls who risked everything to push the limits of knowledge and exploration, because they believed in a greater purpose and a bigger world. They made the decision to leave behind the illusions of comfort and safety, and to explore new frontiers, crossing mountains and deserts, oceans and continents. They laid the foundation for the work we continue to do.
“You’re part of that tradition now. You’re already members of Starfleet, and there’s not a sentient being in this quadrant who would fail to recognize that. As you continue to work towards your commissions, remember that. Don’t be afraid to take on greater challenges, to embrace opportunities, and to boldly go where others fear to tread.
“But at the end of the day, that insignia is only a symbol. We wear it with pride, and live up to the ideals it represents, but our decisions and our actions are what define us as members of Starfleet. Our past has created our legacy, but our decisions and actions forge our future. And each of you, individually, regardless of the symbol on your collar, will forge your own future.”
“As we send off our new officers today, remember that you’ll be following them very soon. When you do, be sure that your own actions and decisions create a legacy that you would be proud to leave behind.”
Pike’s solemn expression slowly morphed into an amused grin. “And I would advise that you keep that in mind during the academic break.”
Another subdued chuckled worked through the audience. Leonard felt himself grinning, too.
Pike nodded to the assembled crowd. “Cadets! Attention!”
Leonard jumped to his feet in perfect synchronicity with the rest of the cadets in the audience, moving as one with hundreds of other people. The unity in the movement was oddly gratifying, and he stood straight and tall with his heels tightly pressed together, hands curled neatly at his sides.
“A round of applause for our new officers!” Pike instructed enthusiastically.
The cadets, along with the assembled families and friends of the newly commissioned officers, needed no further persuasion. The surge of applause, punctuated with hoots, hollers, whistles, and cheers, filled the field house with a deafening roar, reverberating off the high ceilings. Somewhere in the middle of the cheering, Leonard thought he heard Pike officially dismiss the assembled cadets, and the crowd began to ooze out through the aisles between the chairs.
Leonard turned towards Jim and nudged his arm with an elbow. “Hey,” he said over the crowd, almost feeling like he needed to shout to be heard. “Where are you going next? I was going to go rest up a bit before heading out, but did you have a plan for tonight?” They hadn’t discussed it, but Leonard had assumed that Jim would probably be up for a few drinks at one of their favorite watering holes. Cadets and new officers alike would be celebrating all over the city tonight, and Jim rarely missed celebrations like that.
Jim turned to him with an odd look on his face. It was a smile, but it seemed just a bit off. “Of course I’ve got a plan. Figured we’d head out on the town. I just need to go take care of something first.”
Leonard frowned. “Oh?”
“It shouldn’t take long. I’ll give you a call when I’m done. I was thinking O’Leary’s Pub for tonight. I know a bunch of guys who are heading over there around 1900 hours. I can meet you there.” The grin broadened into one of Jim’s classic shit-eating billboards, but his speech was just a bit stilted and halting. “First round’s on me.”
Leonard wanted to drill Jim for an explanation, but he’d learned one thing about Jim if nothing else: he’d tell you when he was damned well good and ready and not a moment sooner. You just had to let the kid do whatever he was going to do, because he was gonna do it anyway. “Okay, Jim. Just promise me that whatever you do, you’re not going to spend the first night of your semester break in Pike’s office getting a lecture for some crazy stunt.”
Jim clapped a hand dramatically over his heart. “Ouch! You wound me, Bones!”
“I know you, Jim.”
“And I know you just as well, Mr. Devil Came From Georgia. Who was the man who triggered a biohaz lockdown of the field house to stop the Parisi Squares tournament? All because he didn’t want to spend his Friday evening mending dislocated shoulders and cracked skulls?”
Leonard couldn’t quite stop the smirk of amusement. When he felt motivated, he could be quite talented with pranks. “The difference is that when I pull a prank, nobody can prove a thing.”
“Right,” Jim said, stretching the word out in a sarcastic drawl.
Leonard raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Come on, Jim. What have you got planned?”
Just like that, Jim’s grin faltered and his shoulders slumped. “I’m not pulling any graduation day pranks. I just got my final transcripts for the semester transmitted to my PADD before I ran over here for the ceremony.”
Leonard felt a twist of worry. Jim’s three-year graduation plan was riding on a knife’s edge. “You’ve been working your ass off all semester. Did something go wrong?”
“I don’t know. My transcripts were tagged ‘incomplete.’ That’s why I need to deal with this as soon as possible, before summer semester starts next Monday. My eligibility for some of the summer courses depends on what I took this spring.”
“Well that’s not good. Why were they incomplete? Did you miss an exam? Not pass something?”
But Jim just shook his head. “Last I knew, I was passing everything with top marks. I won’t know what’s wrong until I talk to...” His eyes flicked up and past Leonard’s shoulder. “Here... I’ve gotta go take care of this, but I’ll comm you after I’m done.”
“Okay, but -”
Leonard didn’t know what sort of protest he was trying to give, or why, but it didn’t matter, because Jim Kirk had already dodged past a thick knot of cadets and had disappeared into the crowd. Shaking his head to himself, Leonard slowly pushed through the shuffling throng of people, trying to make his way to the exit so he could escape the claustrophobic crunch of celebrating cadets. When he finally got to the door, he turned and looked back, craning his neck in an attempt to spot Jim.
After only a moment, he saw the familiar tuft of dirty blond hair next to a cluster of officers near the front of the stage. Jim waited, holding a formal position of attention until Captain Pike separated from the other officers and approached him. They spoke briefly, and then Pike inclined his head and began walking towards the door, with Kirk tight on his heels.
Curious, but not surprised, Leonard raised an eyebrow to himself, then escaped from the field house.
*********
The wind bit sharply through Leonard’s jacket as he made his way from the dormitories to the south gate of the main campus. The rain had stopped, but it was excessively cold for May. The quad was almost completely abandoned. It was only four hours after the graduation ceremony had ended, but most cadets had already left with their families, caught transports back home, or had disappeared into the city to start the semester break with a proper celebration.
As for Leonard... he just grumbled and tugged his jacket tighter around himself.
While he’d been waiting for Jim to comm him, he’d received an infuriating bit of news. He’d been promised a week with Joanna for the summer. He’d thought it would be whenever he was able to get to Georgia to pick up his little girl. He had two weeks off, starting tomorrow, and had planned to catch a shuttle to Atlanta in the morning. Instead, when he’d patched a communique through to Jocelyn’s ID code, it was routed to the Mars Colony, where his ex-wife and daughter were visiting Joce’s sister for three weeks. They’d be back in sixteen days. And by then, Leonard would be a dozen sectors away, doing shipboard research for his aviophobia project.
The infuriating part of it was that it was his own fault. He’d never actually told Jocelyn when he was coming. He’d just assumed she’d be there, and he could take his daughter for the week whenever it was convenient for him.
It wasn’t a particularly new behavior on his part.
He’d blamed Jocelyn for the divorce. He’d mentally summarized the implosion of his marriage as a product of the debacle over his father’s death and Jocelyn’s refusal to support him. It was all because of her greed and self-centered behavior. That’s what he’d told himself.
Now, after a couple of years, some experience, and a new perspective on what it meant to be there for someone, he realized that he’d been an egocentric prick. Joce hadn’t been innocent - not by a long shot - but then, neither had he. He’d wrapped himself in his work before he’d assisted in his father’s suicide, and drowned himself in bourbon afterwards. He wasn’t an easy man in the best of times, and that? That had been hell. Jocelyn hadn’t been there for him, but dammit, how could anyone have been there for him when he was in that state? Why would they want to? He certainly hadn’t been there for his baby girl through that whole mess. And now, it would be months before he’d see his Joanna again, all because he’d been too caught up in his own shit. All because the world revolved around Leonard Hothead McCoy.
The wind kicked up again, and he wrapped his arms tighter around his jacket. He was going to spend his summer alone in the depths of space, without his daughter or his best friend, and he had nobody to blame but himself.
But for now, he had two weeks until he was going to ship out. Jim would be around, taking courses over the summer semester so he could begin the following academic year as a Cadet First Class. And then, once Leonard was aboard the USS Athena, he’d be so wrapped up in his research that it wouldn’t matter. Jim hadn’t been too thrilled with the idea of Leonard going on a real deep space mission without him, but cadets couldn’t get shipboard internships unless they had already been promoted to Cadet First Class. Leonard told Jim he had gotten a waiver for the posting because he already had his medical license, but in truth, he already had the promotion. The internship had seemed like an excellent opportunity at the time, but now, it didn’t seem like such a great idea.
It had been far too long since he’d seen Joanna in person. She was growing up so fast - four years old now - and he sometimes hated himself for not being there. For his first year at the Academy, he had been so busy that his own daughter became an afterthought, with time and distance eroding his parental bonds. So, he’d convinced Jocelyn to let him send daily messages to his daughter via vid-comm, and eventually, they’d begun talking a couple of times a week. Even though she’d done well for a toddler in talking over vid-comm, he could only hope she’d still be able to accept him in person. She was bright, but shy, and he wouldn’t know how she’d react until he got there.
He’d make it up to her. He had to.
He’d try to grab a few days of leave when he got back to see Joanna before the fall semester began. Maybe try to make some sort of sincere apology to Jocelyn for being so presumptuous. He didn’t really care what she thought, and he had absolutely no designs on trying to renew the relationship, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to be on civil terms with the mother of his daughter.
For now, however, the only thing he could do would be to try to forget about it for a few hours.
The Academy gate opened, and the cab he’d called was already waiting there for him. He blew out a tight breath in relief that something, no matter how small, was going right. He climbed into the back seat and gave the address to the driver. A moment later, the lights of the city were racing by - blurry streaks on the other side of the cold window. For a moment, he imagined they were the light of passing stars, drawn out into flashing lines by the effect of the warp engines, speeding him through the galaxy, away from his daughter. Away from Jim. Away from anything and everything that mattered to him.
It was only a few minutes before the cab slowed and pulled up in front of a rustic-looking pub. Leonard muttered a thanks to the driver, swiped his credit chip against the reader, and hurried into the building.
The inside of the pub was a shock to the system after the cold and quiet of the ride over. A thick crowd and raucous laughter filled every inch of the room. It was a cacophony of clinking beer mugs, smiling waiters, shouting cadets, and even a few Academy instructors who were pretending not to notice some of the cadets’ antics. The lights had a warm yellow hue, and the air smelled like hot French fries and fresh beer.
Leonard had been looking forward to this all week, but now, the only thing keeping him from going back to his dorm and hiding behind his own private stash of bourbon was his promise to meet Jim here. He scanned the crowd. At a small, round table towards the back, he spotted the looming blue figure of Cadet Thaleb, the Andorian on Jim’s flight squad. As he moved towards the table, he finally saw Jim’s smaller form, previously hidden by his enormous squad mate. Jim caught his eye a second later.
“Bones!” he shouted over the crowd, enthusiastically waving him over to their small round table, then lifting a small glass of amber liquor. “We’ve got a round of Knob Creek with your name on it!”
Leonard made it through the dense crowd and gratefully accepted the glass, knocking back a large swallow before sitting down across from Jim. “Thanks, Jim. Hi, Thaleb.”
“Hello, Doctor McCoy.”
Despite his foul mood, Leonard had to smile. He’d been trying to get Thaleb to use his first name since they’d met after Jim’s shuttle accident, and Thaleb’s insistence on formal titles was actually endearing. Leonard didn’t often know how to deal with the vastly different cultures of various Federation species, and he wasn’t always comfortable with figuring out how to interact, but he liked Thaleb. “I’m off-duty. It’s Leonard.”
“A member of Starfleet is always on duty,” Thaleb said sincerely. “Would you not come to the aid of any being in need of your help at any time?”
Ah, Andorian warriors, Leonard thought with a mental sigh. “Sure. But if I’m on-duty, then I can’t finish this bourbon,” he said, raising his glass then tipping back a sip. “And that would be a crime against fine liquor.”
“Here’s to that,” Jim said with a grin before chugging another swallow of beer from his glass. “And here’s to summer semester adventures!” He leaned forward on the table. “I’ve got some news!”
“Oh?” Leonard asked warily. When Jim made an announcement like that, it usually ended with Jim in the infirmary.
“I talked to Captain Pike.”
Suddenly serious, Leonard put down his glass of bourbon and leaned on the table. “What was going on with your transcripts?”
Jim shook his head. “Relax, Bones. They’re fine. Better than fine. I passed everything with flying colors. But... remember when I passed the Assistant Instructor testing?” He grinned broadly. “I got course credit for that! I never realized it was worth actual course credits. I’m closer to promotion than I thought.”
Leonard smiled proudly, then quickly hid the expression with a sip of bourbon. “That’s great, kid. But why the big deal with the incomplete transcripts message?”
“Well, I also took all those weekend tactics seminars. I had figured that the seminars were just individual units. I hadn’t realized that in the credit system, they show up as a full course if you’ve taken all of them. And I did.” Jim leaned forward on the table. “But if I want to have them count as a course, I’d need to take the Tactics and Survival seminar as a capstone. So... you remember that survival training course I wanted to take?”
Leonard furrowed his eyebrows. “You mean the one that you couldn’t take because it overlapped with the start of summer semester on Monday?”
“That’s the one,” Jim said, grinning broadly. “That’s the capstone for the tactics seminar series. And I’m going.”
Leonard knew full well that what Jim wanted was a hearty congratulations, thinly veiled with an eyeroll and a warning not to come back in a dozen pieces. This time, however, Leonard’s protest felt more practical. “Wait a minute... if you’re going on the survival course, how are you going to take the summer semester courses? You’ll miss a week of classes, and I know the Academy doesn’t like that. Wasn’t that how you were going to get your promotion to Cadet First Class before the start of the next academic year?”
“Don’t worry about my promotion, Bones.” Jim’s confident grin took on a mischievous edge. That look never failed to make Leonard nervous. “I’ve got it worked out.”
Leonard gave him a scrutinizing look. “You’re not telling me something.”
“What? Don’t you trust me? It’s just a change of course plans for the summer. That’s why I talked to Pike. He approved the change, and I’m not going to miss any essential courses.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t given the Captain a mental breakdown. How many hoops is he jumping through for you this time?”
“Ouch, Bones! That stings!” Jim feigned dismay, and then took another sip of beer. “Pike didn’t have to jump through hoops. It was all on the level. I earned my way into the survival class, and my summer courses will actually work out just fine.”
“Whatever you say,” Leonard said lightly. He took a small sip of bourbon, savoring the spiciness before swallowing. Then he gave Jim a bemused grin. “Just make sure you come back in one piece. I’ve heard that class is brutal.”
“I’ll be fine, Bones,” Jim replied, raising his mug of beer towards his teammate. “Thaleb is taking the training, too.”
Leonard looked sideways at Thaleb, who nodded solemnly in answer. Leonard nodded back, then raised an eyebrow at Jim. “Are you bringing your whole flight squad?”
Jim shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “Okoru is doing an individual academic course from home in Japan for the summer. Freeman got an internship at Starfleet Headquarters. And d’Eon is working on the Engineering Department’s transporter project.” He reached over and clapped Thaleb on the shoulder. “Which leaves us, right, buddy?”
Thaleb gave Jim an absolutely somber stare. “Someone has to ensure that you don’t end up in a bloody heap at the bottom of a cliff.”
Jim’s mouth fell open and he gaped wordlessly at Thaleb’s unflinching expression for several seconds before Thaleb let out a surprisingly hearty laugh. “I’ve been learning by observing Doctor McCoy.”
Jim looked back and forth between Thaleb and Leonard a few times, appearing utterly gobsmacked. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“Ya got lucky, Jim,” Leonard said with a laugh. “Thaleb, you’re a good man.”
At that, Thaleb stopped laughing and gave Leonard a curious look. “Doctor McCoy, I am not a man.”
Although that fact was blatantly obvious, Leonard found himself actually taken aback by the sincerity of Thaleb’s statement. Not only was the guy not human, but Andorians had four genders, none of which was exactly equivalent to the human gender male. “I... I know that. It’s an Earth phrase. It doesn’t actually... well, I guess it doesn’t even require a person to physically be a male, or even human.”
Thaleb tilted his head in query. “Then what does it mean, if being an actual man isn’t required to be a ‘good man’?”
Leonard swallowed tightly. This was awkward. He held up his glass of bourbon, which was almost empty now, and stared into the amber liquid as he spoke. “I guess... it means a person who’s strong enough to do the right thing. Stands by his convictions. Stands by his friends. Someone who doesn’t run away when other people need him.” He glanced up over the rim of the glass to look at Thaleb, then at Jim. “Someone who makes sure everyone comes back alive.”
Before unwelcome memories from the distant and not-so-distant past could come back to haunt him, Leonard tossed back the rest of his bourbon and closed his eyes, hiding behind the burn.
“A noble set of attributes,” Thaleb said with a hint of satisfaction. “Despite the misnomer, I’ll take it as a compliment. Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”
Leonard raised one eyebrow without actually looking up at Thaleb. “Don’t mention it.” He sat quietly for a few seconds, pointedly not thinking about the father he’d failed to save, his failed commitment to his daughter, and the man sitting across the table who’d brought him back alive. A movement out of the corner of his eye distracted him.
“Great! Food’s starting to arrive.” Jim waved at one of the waiters, who set down a basket of pub rolls and butter.
“Any more drinks?” the waiter said with a knowing smile.
Leonard held out the empty bourbon glass. “Knob Creek. Neat. Make it a double this time.” Then his stomach growled at him and he remembered that he hadn’t eaten since before the graduation ceremony. His conversation with Jocelyn had made short work of his appetite. “And... burger and fries, I guess.”
“No steamed broccoli?” Jim asked, with a serious note under the teasing question.
“Not now, Jim.”
He sat back quietly and started making short work of one of the rolls as Jim ordered another round of the local microbrew and Thaleb took Jim’s suggestion of sampling the pub’s fresh-brewed root beer. A moment later, the waiter had hurried off to get their drinks, and Thaleb had dismissed himself to go use the restroom.
Without preamble, Jim grabbed his chair and swung it around to Leonard’s side of the table so they were practically shoulder to shoulder. He turned his head and leveled Leonard with one of his best ‘don’t bullshit with me’ looks, tempered with just a touch of authentic concern. It was really damned effective. “What the hell is going on, Bones?”
“Nothing, Jim,” he said stiffly. “I’m glad you got your courses figured out. I’m sure you’re gonna have a great time playing soldier out in the woods. And I’m glad Thaleb’s gonna be out there making sure you come back in one piece.” He stuffed a large bite of a roll in his mouth, chewing slowly to avoid talking.
Jim only shook his head. “Right. Thanks. So less about me and more about you,” he said sarcastically. “Come on, Bones. You’ve been miserable since you got here, but earlier, you were the one trying to make sure I was coming out to celebrate. Something happened.”
Leonard returned the unspoken question with a long-suffering sigh. The last thing he wanted was to hash over the details right now, because this time, he really couldn’t blame it on Jocelyn. Telling Jim would mean that he’d have to admit that he wasn't going to see his daughter, and it was his own damned fault. He’d just spend the rest of the evening berating himself. Venting about the ex-wife over booze? That was easy. Raging against his own stupidity? That was just self-punishment.
But then, Jim was nothing if not a persistent bastard.
Leonard took a sip from the glass of water he’d been ignoring since Jim had put the bourbon in his hand, and cleared his throat. “I just had a lovely chat with my ex-wife. That would be enough to put anyone in a foul mood.”
Jim let out a low, sympathetic whistle. “Oh, yeah... I can see how that would do it.” His face brightened. “But hey, you’ll have your daughter soon! And you’ll get to spend all that time with her until you ship out. That’s a reason to be happy, right?”
“Yeah, it is.” He bit off another large bite of the roll.
Jim nudged his shoulder with his own. “See? It’ll be fine. You just need to eat something, blow off some steam, and forget about the old battle-axe for now. Right?”
“Yeah,” Leonard said noncommittally. “So... when do you leave for your survival training?”
Jim’s grin turned smug in an instant. “Tomorrow morning, actually.”
Leonard felt his heart sink. If he couldn’t have his daughter, he’d hoped to at least spend a few days with Jim. Maybe hit the town. Or go on that weekend trip to the Sierra Nevada range they’d discussed. Camping and fishing and stupid guy shit. Forgetting about responsibility for a few days. Instead, Jim was leaving first thing in the morning for a couple of weeks of hellish training - no outside contact allowed - and if his reckoning was right, Jim wouldn’t even get back before Leonard had to leave for the Athena. So... he was alone for the whole summer.
A couple of years ago, when Leonard had resigned himself to a life of seclusion, leaving behind his family and friends and accepting his lot as a lone drifter, it might not have mattered. Now, having found himself a home port and safe harbor, he felt like he’d been cut adrift again. It was disorienting.
“Bones? Hey, you okay?” Jim was nudging his shoulder again.
Leonard gave him an almost-annoyed look, and tried to keep his tone light. “Yeah. I’d just figured you’d be around this weekend. Spend some time before I shipped off.” As soon as he’d said it, he realized that he’d slipped.
Jim narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were heading to Georgia to see Joanna tomorrow morning.”
“Slight delay,” Leonard said as evenly as possible. “I’d figured I was still tired from practicals this week, and maybe you and I could go rent that cabin we talked about for the weekend, seeing as I’ll be gone all summer.”
“Bones.”
Very persistent bastard. “And Joanna is visiting Joce’s sister this weekend. I’d forgotten to check. So it was easier just to wait until Monday.” He gave Jim the best look of sincerity he could fake. “I’m still going, and I’ve still got her for a week. I just delayed it.” He didn’t need to mention that the delay was currently indefinite. Or that Joce's sister lived on Mars.
Jim didn’t really look convinced, but he nodded and downed the last of his beer before grabbing the roll from Leonard’s plate and taking a large bite.
Leonard sputtered at him. “Jim, you social degenerate! Eat your own damned food!”
Jim winked at him. “Yours is tastier.”
Leonard was about to reply when the waiter reached down and deposited a double of bourbon in front of him, replaced Jim’s empty beer mug with a fresh one, and put a frosty mug of root beer at Thaleb’s spot. “Your food will be out in a few minutes, boys. Anything else for now?”
Jim pasted his best smarmy grin on his face. “Only the comm ID of the most gorgeous woman I’ve seen all night, if you’re interested.”
She gave him a friendly but patronizing smile. “You’re cute, Starfleet, but I’m taken. I’ll bring out your food when it’s ready.”
Jim sighed dramatically, then thanked her with a mock-salute.
Leonard rolled his eyes. “Juvenile.”
Some things never changed.
*********
To Chapter 2