Fic: "The Needs of the Few" (22/23)
Title: "The Needs of the Few"
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 8,817
Warnings: Foul language, political situations, military stuff.
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: Almost over.
Previous chapters: One, Two, Three, Four(A), Four(B), Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One
Chapter 22
The lights of sickbay were too bright, and Leonard’s head was throbbing as though he’d been on an all-night bender. He’d slept for almost ten hours, and it was almost two hours into alpha shift when he’d finally arrived in sickbay. His alarm hadn’t gone off, and when he’d questioned the computer as to why his alarm had been deactivated, it had politely informed him that Doctor Brex had used his medical override to turn off the alarm for him.
Sneaky bastard. At the same time, Leonard had to respect the trick. He’d probably use it in the future on patients and masochistic officers who needed to get more rest. But still, instead of making him feel rested, the extra sleep almost made him feel as though he had a hangover. The sedative had definitely knocked him out, but it wasn’t exactly the same as natural sleep. Still, it had been better than nothing, which is what he would have gotten without it.
Doctor Singh found him immediately when he arrived, catching him before he’d taken more than five steps into sickbay.
“McCoy, it’s good to see you up and about.”
As much as he didn’t feel like chatting, Singh didn’t deserve the sharp edge of his attitude. She, like everyone else on staff, was overworked and emotionally battered right now. “I’m fine,” he said in resignation. “Just sorry I’m late.”
“Why sorry? Brex ordered you to take a sedative and then he turned off your alarm.” She grinned. “He does things like that. And you probably needed it. Although it looks like you could use some more rest... or a headache pill.”
“Yeah, well... there are other things I need right now. Where’s Jim?”
At that, Singh frowned. “Actually, he was called to a debriefing with the captain just a little while ago. He’ll probably come back when he gets dismissed.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Great, just what the kid needs right now - an interrogation with the captain. Was he actually discharged?”
“Oh yes. Before alpha shift. His chart is in the computer, if you want to check. He seemed fine when I saw him. He had just been waiting here for you until the captain ordered him to report.”
Leonard cast a sideways glance at the chrono on the wall. “When did he leave?”
“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes ago.” She hesitated. “Are you sure you’re okay to start your shift?”
On one hand, Leonard was about as far from okay as he could be. On the other hand... the echoing sounds of weapons fire and explosions in his head were less sharp this morning, and he could almost ignore the faint whiffs of dust and smoke his nose was still telling him were there. He hadn’t been injured, he’d had a full night of sleep, and he’d seen no more death and damage than anyone else around him. There was a shift to work and patients who needed him,
Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. I’m no worse off than anyone else here. I’m ready to go.” Then he grimaced slightly in annoyance. “Although if I could get some coffee, that wouldn’t hurt. Had a cup before I came down, but I can’t find my canteen...”
A shiny metal cylinder suddenly appeared in front of him, and he wrapped his fingers around the familiar curve of his coffee canteen, and looked up in surprise to see Nurse Moretti with a grin on her face. “Walsh found this in the supply room last night after you left and told me to have it full of hot coffee when you got here. She guessed you left it here when you checked out a tricorder and med kit yesterday morning before you went on the landing party.”
Leonard flipped open the lid, closed his eyes, and inhaled the aroma of fresh, hot coffee wafting up from the canteen. “Give Walsh a promotion,” he moaned and took a sip.
Singh laughed lightly at him. “Instant human: just add caffeine. I’d hate to see what would happen if they tried to take you off the stuff.”
“Fire and brimstone coming down from the sky,” Leonard deadpanned. “Forty years of darkness. Earthquakes, volcanoes... human sacrifice. Cats and dogs, living together. Mass hysteria.”
They both looked at him. Moretti blinked.
Leonard sighed. Jim and his stupid vintage movie quotes. “Never mind. Let’s get back to work.”
*********
Leonard threw himself into his work. After the first two patients, he stopped looking at the chrono and glancing at the door for Jim to come back. He couldn’t use the comm if Jim was in a briefing, so he had to wait. Besides, Jim was fine, and there were patients here in front of him who weren’t.
He checked in on Crewman Johan, who was recovering well, much to his satisfaction. He mentioned chatting with Jim, but he didn’t give any details other than to say that he’d seen the kid, and Jim was looking pretty good.
The Tellarite Ambassador was there, recovering from a minor injury from flying debris and a few broken bones. He seemed to be in good spirits, and tried to challenge Leonard to a debate. Leonard said he’d send Jim around if he could.
Cadet Liu stopped in for a follow-up, and Leonard was pleased to see that his emergency handiwork was clean and tidy, and Liu wouldn’t have any permanent muscle damage and barely any scarring on his leg. He would only need to use a crutch for another 24 hours, but that was it. And, of course, Liu asked after Jim. While Leonard ran a regen session and some nerve function tests, Liu gave him play-by-play details of what Jim had done until the moment Liu had arrived in sickbay.
By the time Leonard finally escorted Liu to the door with instructions for therapeutic stretches and follow-up care, his brain was spinning again. It all kept coming back to Jim, and goddammit, Leonard needed to stop thinking about the kid until Porter released him from the debriefing.
He pulled up the full patient roster in sickbay, and was about to check on the security guard with chest wound when Doctor Singh interrupted him.
“How are you holding up?”
Leonard shrugged. “As well as could be expected.”
“Glad to hear it.” She took a quick look at the chrono. “Everything seems under control for the moment. I just finished the second round of repair work on Thompson’s knee, and I need to go grab something to eat. Do you think you’d be able to cover for a little while?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Want anything from the mess hall?”
“Nah,” Leonard said with a casual shake of his head. He really didn’t have much of an appetite.
She gave him a sly smile. “I’ll bring you a sandwich.” And she hurried out the door before he could protest.
Grumbling to himself, Leonard started a quick round of all the patients. He didn’t want to start any major procedures without a backup doctor on hand in case something went critical on another patient, but when he got to the third bay, he stopped cold.
“Doctor McCoy,” the Kazarite Ambassador said, sounding hopeful. “I had wondered if you would return.”
Quickly, Leonard un-froze himself and set to work reviewing vitals and doing a routine scan. “I’m just here to check on you,” he said as neutrally as possible. “You’re scheduled for some more repair work on your left leg in a couple of hours. How are your pain levels?”
“My pain is negligible. But please, doctor...”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Leonard snapped, unable to hold back. And why should he hold back? A powerful telepath like this already knew exactly how angry he was. It was bad enough that he’d taken it out on Pike last night (and the embarrassment over that outburst was still burning his ears) but this person was the real target of his fury. “I’m just here to take care of you. I’ll give you the best medical care, but that’s it.”
“The medical care has been exemplary. And I know you don’t want to talk to me,” the Kazarite said mildly, “but you want to hear what I have to say.”
“Do I now?” Leonard drawled sarcastically. “So go on... tell me what else I’m thinking.”
If the Ambassador was offended by the sarcasm, he didn’t show it. “You already know your own thoughts. I wish to share mine. I am Ambassador Hai’ksha, Doctor McCoy. Terrans seem to have difficulty with smooth pronunciation, so you may call me Sha.”
“Ambassador Sha,” Leonard acknowledged uneasily. Damn, he really didn’t want to have this conversation... but the Ambassador was right. He wanted to know just what the ever-blazing hell had been going through this guy’s thick skull. Even though blind anger was easier, Jim had said that Kazarites were peaceful, and this seemed like the last thing in which a member of his species would get involved. Yeah, Leonard wanted information. But... not now, dammit!
“I wish for you to understand this, McCoy. After your ordeal, you deserve to know. The Captain can not tell you, but I can. Also, the USS Intrepid is intercepting us tomorrow morning, and I shall be going with them.”
The message was clear. If he wanted the real story, straight from the horse’s mouth, this was his only chance. There were hundreds or thousands of reasons - all of them dead or injured - for Leonard to simply give him a succinct fuck you and walk away. However, this was the guy with answers. Besides, if he didn’t get this information, Jim would be pissed at him later.
Leonard shifted his weight and centered himself. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit, so he said the first thing that came to mind.
“How did you do it? No, forget that... how could you?”
The Ambassador actually flinched, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before making tentative eye contact. “You and your friend actually figured out most of it. Everything you have considered -- your friend is a very clever man, and so are you.”
Leonard let that sink in. He and Jim had been right... but about what? “There was enough evidence that the command staff here should have been able to figure it out,” Leonard said cautiously. “Did you plant ideas in their heads? Did you stop the Captain from investigating?” If that was the case, then it was no wonder Porter had apologized.
Sha closed his eyes and his face twisted in an expression that Leonard took for remorse. “I did.”
Leonard clenched his teeth together for a moment, then forced himself to relax the muscles in his shoulders. He didn’t need to work himself up into a rage. Not yet, anyway. “Doctor Brex told me that telepaths couldn't do that.”
“Betazoids can’t,” Sha explained. “But you are aware that some species of humanoids can see ultraviolet and infrared light, and some produce sound outside your range of hearing? Kazarites' telepathy works outside the range of Betazoids'.”
Leonard nodded, trying to accept this, while keeping a lid on his anger. “So... you’re some sort of super-telepath... which means you had to have known what the Axanar were planning. So... goddammit, why?” He forced himself to take a calming breath. “While I was on the planet... Jim said that he didn’t think you wanted to do this. He said that Kazarites hate violence, and that you had to have been tricked or manipulated or something. But I admit, I’m having a hard time buying into that. I don’t see how you can trick a telepath. So... yeah, tell me why. If your people are peaceful, and you’re not some violent aberration, then why the hell would you let something like this happen?”
“It is... more complicated than you understand, Doctor McCoy,” Sha said, hesitantly.
“Ain’t it always?” Leonard mumbled to himself. “So... this is what you want to tell me? I’m listening.”
Sha nodded. “Originally, I was a researcher. My family... all of them... died fifteen years ago. It was an earthquake, in a seismically stable area. Our house collapsed while I was away. I could have remained with distant relatives, but... I chose to leave Kazar. It was easier than remaining at home with the constant reminders of my losses. I was eventually sent to help rehabilitate the domesticated animal populations of Axanar after the Battle ten years ago. It was a noble and pure purpose. It helped to fill the void left by my family.” His face became wistful, and despite an appearance so very different from humans, the expression was easy to read. Leonard thought he looked shockingly young. Innocent. And wounded. “Their people were deeply linked with each other for lacking even rudimentary telepathy, and when they began to speak of their lost brethren on Araxis, I understood their sense of loss. It seemed overwhelming.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow. “You lived with them all that time... embedded in their society?” This changed the entire picture.
“Yes.” He closed and opened his eyes slowly. “It was a good home, amongst good people. I had a strong sense of purpose in my work, and a sense of community, despite being so far from home. In time, I was introduced by the Minister of Agriculture to other members of the House of Lords, and was eventually asked to become an Ambassador. I did not expect such a thing, but I felt a bond with these people who had nearly lost everything. Their love of kin was much like that of my people. I know what it is like to lose those who are dearest to you, and I recognized this sort of pain. I sympathized with it, and wished to help.”
Leonard had wanted to stay furious at the Kazarite, but he felt his inclination towards anger begin to fade. Nodding, he took a step closer. “But the things they asked you to do... you had to have known they were wrong.”
“I did, and yet... I thought it was for the greater good.” He looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. “Such horrific things in history have been done under that guise. I should have seen it. The Axanar... I had not understood their intentions. I was naive and foolish.”
Leonard frowned. “Okay, but I still don’t understand -- how the hell didn’t you know what they had planned?”
Sha cringed slightly and looked downwards.
“Every telepathic species’ sense works differently. My people are extremely adept telepaths, but we lack a certain range of perception that others seem to achieve easily. There is a reason why we choose to work with animals and avoid politics, Doctor McCoy. We have almost no sense of deception.”
Leonard felt his mouth fall open and stared incredulously at the Kazarite. “You really couldn’t tell?”
Sha’s eyes closed and opened slowly before he looked back up at Leonard. “I knew their plans were complicated, but I didn’t truly understand until things were already in motion. I was told that I would only be monitoring the thoughts of the other party, and reporting to the Axanar if there was any problem with the new Araxian government, or if Federation representatives did not favor their plans. At most, I would gently sway opinions to ensure that the Axanar and Araxians would reunite.”
“But it didn’t work out that way.”
Sha’s face twisted in remorse. “When Doctor Brex detected my activity, I was instructed to stop him and intercept his communiques. It was reprehensible, but I had sworn my protection to the Axanar. I knew it would cause Doctor Brex no permanent damage. The captain and other senior officers would naturally be concerned for their crew member and suspicious of the circumstances, and I was to convince them that it was an unfortunate happenstance. I argued with my Axanar friends, but in the end, they insisted it was necessary to bring their people together again without interference. And I listened to them.”
Leonard was frowning in distaste, but he could see how such a thing would happen. “By the time you realized what they were asking of you, it was too late to back out.”
Sha nodded, then shook his head. “I could have backed out at any time, McCoy, but at what price? You see... not only had I grown close to these people, but the promise of protection is a serious oath on Axanar. I couldn’t merely back out of my obligation. I felt certain that their efforts to reunite their people would be fruitful, and that all of those involved would be joyful at their reunion once the process was complete. It was a narrative of pure fiction that I wove for myself; a fanciful child’s tale, and I made myself believe it. I was kept from the mainstream Araxian population, surrounded only by Axanar, and I did not hear the thoughts of the Araxians. And so... I allowed myself to be pulled into this plan, even after I knew what was happening... until the battle began.”’
Sha’s voice broke for a moment, and Leonard found himself starting to reach for him, instinctively wanting to comfort a patient in distress. He held himself back, though. He wasn’t ready for that.
After a moment, Sha seemed to pull himself together. “When I realized the depth of what was unfolding, I told the Axanar that I was going to inform Starfleet. It had gone too far, and I wished to stop it. That’s when the second explosion at Parliament brought the roof down on us. The Axanar minister I had served for nearly five years - my colleague and friend - was crushed to death beside me... and I am not sure whether to grieve or not.”
Leonard opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. He wasn’t even sure he was able to process this. Such a huge disaster, all resting on the naïve hope of a generous-hearted being that everything would work out. Leonard looked at him for a moment, feeling a profound sense of pity, and wondering what sort of guilt the Ambassador must be feeling. He couldn’t even begin to imagine it.
“You were going to blow their plan... “ But then he had another thought, and he felt his eyes go wide. “Ambassador Sha, were you supposed to mess with everyone’s perceptions?”
At that, Sha smiled. A pained, tense smile. “No. Only those who I was instructed to influence. The command crew. The security staff. Any Federation Ambassadors that became suspicious.” He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again. “Any telepaths who might detect my activity or read the intentions of the Axanar. I also regret the headaches I caused the partial telepaths onboard.”
Leonard was nodding to himself, letting himself read into the Kazarite’s words. “So... not everyone. You knew that Jim and I suspected something was going on, didn't you?”
Sha's smile returned. “I did. But the Axanar do not consider those of low rank to be important, and I did not tell them about you. I had hoped... if things went too far... that there would be a way out.”
Leonard studied the Kazarite’s face. “But you couldn’t just tell someone?”
“We all wish to be brave, McCoy. We wish to do the right thing. But I? I am a coward. I left when my family died, even though my extended family begged me to stay. I hid in my work. And once I’d found a life in which to hide, I was afraid to lose it. How could I defy the Axanar? Protection is lauded by the their people. but if you fail once protection is promised? Such shame, McCoy. And I was part of their society for so long...” His voice trailed off.
Feeling unsteady on his feet, Leonard took a couple of awkward steps and leaned heavily against a supply cabinet. “We all learn lessons the hard way, don’t we?” he said roughly.
“We do,” came Sha’s soft reply. “But I am still alive, and can go home to my family once again... if they will have me. And so can you. But I will never be able to fix the evils that have been suffered due to my actions today. I would beg your forgiveness, McCoy.”
“I...” He looked back at the Kazarite’s pleading eyes. The last thing he could do was offer a false forgiveness here. “I don’t know if I can do that yet... because I haven’t even learned to forgive myself for the shit I’ve done. But... I can tell you that I understand.”
Sha nodded in gratitude. “That is more than I should hope to expect. Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”
“Yeah... you’re... uh... welcome.” He glanced down at the PADD in his hand and scrolled through Sha’s chart. “It says you folks don’t sleep much except when you’re injured, but that you’re pretty good at self-healing. So... we’ve got you scheduled for that repair work in a couple of hours. Try to get some sleep, and hit your call button if you need anything.”
Sha merely nodded again, and closed his eyes without another word. It was damned unnerving.
Leonard took a few steps backwards and all but stumbled out of the Kazarite’s treatment bay. His head was buzzing with everything he’d just heard. He’d wanted to stay angry... he’d needed someone to be angry at. But now, he had nothing except the vague specter of the Axanar, and that was so broad, so nameless... it just left him feeling empty.
And the knowledge that the Kazarite had hoped that he and Jim, of all people, would blow the plan? Maybe he should feel good about that, but he just felt used.
Empty and used.
And utterly alone.
“McCoy? Are you okay?”
Leonard blinked a few times and realized he was standing in the middle of sickbay, staring blankly past Doctor Singh, who was looking at him with unmasked concern. “I... yeah, sorry. Just had a bit of a chat with one of the patients.”
“The Kazarite, huh?”
“Gee, how’d you guess?”
“I didn’t,” she said plainly. “ I just saw you walk out of his treatment bay. When we changed out shifts, Brex mentioned that the Ambassador had wanted to speak to you.”
“Something like that,” Leonard mumbled.
Singh blew out an exasperated breath and held out a small bag. “Well, I won’t pry, but in the meantime, whether or not he put you off your appetite, you’re running on fumes. I don’t have to scan you to see that. So have yourself a sandwich and take a break.”
He accepted the bag and sniffed it. The scent of toasted bread met his nose, and despite his complete lack of an appetite, he had to appreciate the offer. “Thank you. I’m not really hungry... but I didn’t eat much for breakfast, so maybe I’ll stop around noon for a bite.”
Singh frowned. “It’s already 1220 hours.”
“What?” Leonard turned his head towards the wall chrono so fast that his neck twinged, making his eyes water. He blinked a few times. Singh was right. It was well past lunchtime.
“McCoy... I ran into Ankewicz down in the mess hall. He went off-duty at midnight last night, and he’s had some rest now. He said he could come in earlier if we needed him. How about I call him in, and you go off-duty for a while, eat something, and come back when you’re feeling better.”
“I’m feeling fine,” Leonard grumbled.
“And I’m a Klingon diplomat.” She fixed him with an unwavering stare.
“Okay.” He crinkled the lunch bag in his hand. “I’ll be back in 30 minutes.”
“I hope not,” she said mildly. “Come back when you’re ready, and not a moment sooner.”
Leonard nodded stiffly and walked out of sickbay without a single look back. The thing that bothered him most is that she was right, and he really wasn’t okay. He’d seen and heard too much in the past twenty-four hours, and the conversation with the Kazarite felt like the last straw. And for that matter, he still hadn’t talked to Jim.
Leonard stopped so suddenly in the middle of the hallway that he almost tripped.
It was after noon already, so there was no way Jim was still in the debriefing. He’d been ordered off-duty, so after the debriefing, they should have released him. He hadn’t come back to sickbay yet. Scowling, Leonard hurried over to the nearest computer terminal. “Computer... location of Cadet Kirk.”
“Cadet Kirk is in Cargo Bay Two.”
Leonard frowned. “A cargo bay? Who else is in there?”
“Cadet Kirk is the only person in Cargo Bay Two.”
“What the hell is he doing in there?” Leonard mused under his breath.
“The purpose of Cadet Kirk’s presence in Cargo Bay Two is unknown.”
“Shut up,” Leonard snapped off-handedly. He was already putting the pieces together. He knew Jim Kirk. Something must have been said in the debriefing, or Jim had heard or seen something that had been that little bit too much - something about straws and camels - and the kid had gone off to try to put his head back together. So after everything he’d gone through, Jim was alone. Leonard just wasn’t going to let him stay that way.
With a determined nod, Leonard hurried to the nearest turbolift and slipped inside. “Cargo Bay Two.”
*********
The instant he walked into the cargo bay, Leonard knew exactly why Jim had taken refuge there. The lights were subdued, and the only sound was the low thrum of the impulse engines keeping the ship in orbit. Silence and shadows. Peace and tranquility... or the only thing on this ship that came close. There was no reason for any of the crew to come to the cargo bay right now, so it was possibly the only place on the ship where Jim was guaranteed the solace he was probably seeking.
Somehow, Leonard guessed that Jim wouldn’t mind if he interrupted.
He was just about to call out when he heard Jim’s voice echo through the cavernous room.
“Up here, Bones.”
It took Leonard a moment of looking until he spotted a shadow on what looked like a platform or catwalk on the far wall. “Dammit, Jim,” he said softly, with more affection than malice.
“I’ll come down.”
“No,” Leonard said quickly. “I’ll be right up.”
“You hate heights.” Jim’s voice was both surprised and amused.
“I hate space, too, and look where I am. So sit your ass down and stay put.”
Leonard crossed the cargo bay and found the base of the ladder. Sure, he could let Jim climb down, but he was coming to find the kid, so he was going the whole way. He was still carrying the sandwich bag, so he held the bag in his teeth as he grabbed the ladder and hauled himself up.
It was dark and shadowy on the platform, but he could see the amused look on Jim’s face clearly enough.
“Here... lemme get that for you, Bones.” Jim took the bag out of his mouth with one hand, and reached out another to finish pulling Leonard through the opening in the platform railing. “What’s in the bag?”
Leonard crawled away from the edge of the platform and leaned back against the wall with a tired groan, more for melodrama than anything. “It’s a sandwich. Doctor Singh brought it for me from the mess hall, but...” He shot Jim a look. “You eaten yet today?”
Jim shrugged. “My stomach still aches a bit. It’s not bad, but I’m not really hungry.” He shifted around and settled himself next to Leonard, leaning his back against the wall, bringing his knees up to rest his hands on them.
Leonard resisted the urge to start questioning Jim about his injury. He had so many other things he wanted to ask and tell and discuss. God damn it, it felt like there was a blockade in his brain, holding back everything he’d been meaning to say and wanting to ask, and if he let it out all at once, he’d get trampled in his own thoughts and bring Jim down with him. Instead, he took a deep breath and started with the easiest thing. “What have you been doing all day?”
Jim shrugged. “Just the debriefing. Then I came here. Kinda wish I’d gone to my quarters to get my PADD so I could read a bit, but it didn’t seem worth going back.”
“You didn’t come back to sickbay after the debriefing, either,” Leonard said neutrally.
“They said I was discharged, so I didn’t think I had to.” Jim was carefully looking everywhere but at him, but Leonard didn’t need that tell to know it was bullshit.
“I never said you had to. But Doctor Singh said you’d been waiting for me before they called you to the debriefing. She guessed you planned to come back.” He shifted so his body was turned more towards Jim. “So what happened in there?”
For the briefest instant, Leonard swore he saw Jim’s face clench with emotion before the kid painted over it with a slow shake of his head and a brittle laugh. “It was a debriefing. We talked about the shit that happened down on the surface. I’m sure you remember that it was a bit of a mess, so the briefing wasn’t exactly a round of campfire stories.”
“I didn’t expect that it would be. Mine wasn’t exactly a cakewalk.”
“Yeah,” Jim’s voice was dry and rough. “They asked me about Lieutenant Finney.”
“Wha... wait, Finney?” His eyes went a bit wider. “You were fresh out of sickbay and they interrogated you about the death of your commanding officer?”
“It’s okay.” Jim’s voice was softer now. “They needed to. It’s protocol. Unless there are extenuating circumstances, they need statements from everyone involved or witnessing the death of an officer or crewman within twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll show them a set of goddamned extenuating circumstances, those insensitive, bull-headed -”
“It’s fine, Bones. It’s done. I don’t have to do it later.” Jim looked as though he was about to keep talking, but he snapped his mouth shut and stared off into the shadows. Leonard wasn’t sure what to say, so he waited. Finally, Jim spoke again, more quietly this time.
“I tried not to think about it while I was still on the surface,” Jim said, talking more to the shadows than to Leonard. “But... after Finney died, while we were waiting for rescue, I kept thinking... that he made the wrong call. That he put everyone at risk. He was injured, and he couldn’t have been thinking clearly, but no matter the reason, he made the wrong call. I just didn’t want to let myself think like that. He was my leader... and he’d just died in front of me. I couldn’t let myself blame him.”
Leonard wanted to say something, but what?
Jim’s eyes had focused at some point in the distance. It was the look he got when he was putting things together. “While I was down there, it didn’t matter if his order had been right or wrong. Just act, don’t think. We followed the order, and when it all went to hell, we just kept doing what we needed to do to survive. I was a cadet, following protocols. It took the weight off my shoulders, and that’s supposed to be reassuring. But Bones?” His eyes focused back on Leonard, sharp and clear, and shining just a little bit in the shadows of the cargo bay. “It wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t...what?”
“Reassuring. To just let someone else make the call when I knew it was wrong. That’s one of the things we learn to do when we’re subordinates - let someone else make the call, and we just execute the orders.” His hands suddenly clenched into fists on his knees. “I’ve always trusted my gut instinct, and distrusted anyone who ever told me to put that aside and listen to them. Maybe it’s because all the people I’ve ever met who had absolute authority either tried to beat the snot out of me, or tried to kill me flat out.”
Jim sucked in a sharp breath at the same time as Leonard felt the air go a bit scarce in his lungs. It was true - anyone with absolute authority of Jim in his youth had abused the position. It had taken two years of Academy training and working under competent leaders for Jim to begin trusting his superiors... and now this.
“And I knew I should have listened to myself,” Jim finally continued. “And so when they asked me about Finney’s orders in the debriefing... I told them exactly what had happened.”
Leonard let that sink in, and his eyebrows furrowed together. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in a debriefing?”
Jim shrugged. “Yeah, but we always have choices in what we say. At the end of the day, I left a shadow on the record of a dead man. He was a good officer, and a good leader. He just made a mistake.”
“A mistake that could have gotten people killed if you hadn’t stepped up.”
“It got him killed. I just... hope they focus on the good things he did in his career instead of what I said.”
“Jim... you’re one of those people who will say what needs to be said, even if the truth is ugly. Some people can’t handle that. The report has the truth on it. The rest will sort itself out.”
“Yeah,” Jim said, but he didn’t sound like he meant it. The both fell silent for a moment, and Jim looked away again. Finally, he said, “So how are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.” The words came automatically.
Jim snorted and shook his head. “You were pretty freaked out the last time I saw you. And Bones? You’re shaking, and I don’t think it’s the heights. So now that you’ve interrogated me, it’s your turn. Are you okay? What happened?”
Leonard tilted his head, not in concession, but because shrugging would take too much effort. “I got pulled into a debriefing right after we got back to the ship. After that, I came back to sickbay, but they had you out cold. Doctor Brex talked to me, and ordered me to take a sedative. I got enough sleep. Then I came back to sickbay this morning. You weren’t there, so I worked on patients all morning. Oh, and I talked to the Kazarite Ambassador. You were right about him. Pretty much about everything. The Axanar pressured him into it, he didn’t want to, and yeah, he manipulated the bridge crew. But anyway, I don’t really want to talk about it. And then I came up here to find you.”
Jim looked at him incredulously. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Shit, Jim, what do you want me to say! That’s what happened! You know everything else.”
“I want to know if you’re okay, you asshole.”
“Goddammit, Jim, I’m fine. See?” He held out his arms. “No gaping wounds, no panic attacks.”
Jim, jackass that he was, actually rolled his eyes in mock impatience, then let out a low sigh. “The captain told me a bit about your report after I finished mine. Not much, but enough that I could read between the lines.”
“What lines, kid? I watched people dying and dead for reasons that only make sense if you can accept the fact that the Axanar had started all that political horse shit in the first place. I saw a civilization push itself to the blood-spattered brink. And... goddammit, Jim, I saw you almost sacrifice yourself! Those aren’t lines, Jim!” He could feel his breath coming hot and tight in his chest, and he had to force himself to breathe more evenly.
Jim, however, was looking at him almost sadly. “That’s what I mean.” He sighed. “I almost went to find you and drag you off-duty, but I knew you’d come find me when you were ready.”
“Oh? How’d you know that, kid?”
Jim gave him an enigmatic smile. “Because I’ve known you for two years, and you always come to find me. But mostly...” His smile faded into seriousness. “I saw your face yesterday, right before I left the room in the storage building.”
In a flash, the image that Leonard had been trying to forget all day came rushing back to him.
The look on his face... oh God, the look on his face...
Echoes of words shrouded in a drug-induced haze, and damn, had Leonard really said all that to a captain? Leonard pushed it out of his mind and tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry even for that. He let his jaw hang loosely, and tried to remember to breathe. “Jim, I...”
Jim stopped him by shaking his head. “Listen, I... damn, how do I say this?”
“In Standard would be easiest,” Bones said thinly. “But I’ve heard you speak about five other languages.”
Jim shot him an utterly bemused look. “Six. Asshole.” His expression sobered. “Listen... you saved my life once, but even before that... I’ve never had someone I could rely on like this, and when I saw you sitting there, in that room, watching me leave...”
But Leonard cut him off. “Jim, the look on your face just about broke me. You looked like... goddammit, you looked like a man being frog-marched to his own funeral, and that you were okay with it!”
Jim grabbed his arm, and there was something desperate in his eyes. “I was okay with it! The only thing I wasn’t okay with... was the fact that you were looking at me like I’d already died.”
“Jim...”
But Jim was shaking his head slowly, sadly, and he let go of Leonard’s arm and sank back heavily against the wall. “I didn’t want you to stay. I didn’t want to go out there thinking that if I failed, you were going to die with the rest of them. But knowing why you were staying? God, Bones.” He leaned his head into his hands. “I almost changed my mind when I saw the way you were looking at me.”
Leonard swallowed against the painful dryness in his throat. “But you knew that it was the only chance those people had.”
“Yeah,” came Jim’s answer in a rough whisper. “I had to. But you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did,” Leonard growled softly.
Jim snorted at him. “I don’t even think you were worried about yourself and the fact that you might have died down there. Actually, I’m sure you weren’t thinking about that at all. Hyper-focusing on me so you didn’t have to worry about yourself.”
“Well, I’m kinda good at focusing on other people’s shit so I don’t have to think about my own.”
Jim was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly. “Bones, you’ve spent the entire time wondering if I was okay, but nobody asked you, did they? Did anyone really check on you after all this?”
“Well, Doctor Brex did. But I can’t exactly wallow in my own bullshit when there are patients who need help.”
“Well, I’m glad Brex looked after you, but I’m not just talking about here and now. I mean ever. ”
“I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything right now. I’m fine, and that’s not the point, Jim. You have to -”
“Bones.” Jim was looking at him, and his eyes went a bit wider. “Nobody ever asked you if you were okay.” It wasn’t a question. “You keep asking everyone else how they’re feeling, and you worry yourself sick over people... yeah, including me... but who ever looked after you? Who asked how you were feeling?”
Bones felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut. “Jim, it’s my job to ask how other people are feeling. I’m a doctor. It’s what I do.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need anyone to look after you.” He shook his head with an expression of disbelief. “Fuck, I’m an asshole. I should have stopped into sickbay anyway. You always look after everyone else, and I just expected you to come find me, but I should have found you this time. I’ll bet your ex didn’t ask you if you were okay when you were up to your eyeballs in dealing with everyone else’s problems. She didn’t ask if you were okay when you were staying up all night, every night, for months, trying to cure your father... did she?”
“That’s not what this is about...” But Leonard’s words lost their momentum on their own.
Jim nodded at him slowly. “You worried about walking away from people... that you didn’t put them first... but I don’t think anyone ever put you first either. You said you took them for granted, but they took you for granted.” He sounded like he was on the verge of saying something, and couldn’t quite tip over that edge.
“Jim?”
Jim squared his shoulders. “Bones... I know you don’t think sincerity is one of my strong suits, but... I have never taken you for granted. I just... I need you to know that.”
Leonard stared at Jim through the shadows in disbelief. He knew that, of course. Jim had said it dozens or hundreds of times without ever actually saying it. It’s how they were. It was that bizarre sort of friendship that was completely reliable and you knew it would always be there, but you couldn’t put it aside or let it sit idly. Or maybe that was just the way Jim was. Because, even though the kid might be a certifiable asshole sometimes, there was something so unique about him that on the rare occasion when Leonard let himself think about it, it was enough to make his head spin.
Slowly, feeling detached from his body at the same time as he’d never felt more completely in-the-present, Leonard reached out and grasped Jim’s forearm. “Me too, Jim. I... goddammit.” In one rapid movement, before he could talk himself out of it like the emotionally stunted cynical old man that he pretended to be, he pulled Jim into a fierce hug. He held fast and tight, refusing to feel awkward, and squeezing Jim as though anything less of a grip would let the kid be swept away by squads of militants and explosions and weapons fire and all Leonard would have left would be the dead husk of a body that had once been his best friend.
And Jim held him. “I know, Bones. I know.”
After a moment - seconds or minutes, Leonard wasn’t quite sure - they broke apart at the same time. In silence, they sat back against the wall, shoulder pressing against shoulder, watching the shadows and listening to the hum of the impulse engines.
Whatever else had happened, whatever hell they’d gone through, and however much of a jackass Jim Kirk would always be, it was okay. Somehow, for that moment, things were okay. Maybe later, Leonard would break down, but for now, he was fine. He really was.
Then Jim cleared his throat. “Uh... Bones? By the way... what the hell did you say to Captain Pike?”
Leonard inhaled so fast he almost choked on the air in his lungs. He hadn’t thought about it all day... he’d almost forgotten... in fact, he had forgotten most of what he’d said to Pike. He remembered being pretty damned pissed, and blaming the guy for not doing something to stop the disaster from unravelling. He’d been upset and furious and sad and... dizzy...
“Seriously, what the hell did you say to Pike?”
Leonard snorted with delirious amusement. Whatever he’d said, he knew that he’d mouthed off to one of the most powerful people at the Academy, and probably the most influential captain in the ‘fleet. He’d been drugged and messed up and... he was laughing now. Shaking with inappropriate mirth. “Gave him a piece of my damn mind,” he choked out between wheezy laughs. “Don’t much remember what I said... I was kinda drugged to the gills at the time - sedative and all - but... oh shit. Oh shit.”
He wiped his arm roughly across his face, scrubbing away the half-assed tears that were leaking from his eyes and forcing him to mentally sober up. “I’m sorry.... sorry, Jim. I just... I’d almost forgotten about it. And no, I don’t remember much of what I said.”
Jim was looking at him warily, as if expecting him to go crazy at any moment. “Well, whatever you said, Bones... it must have made an impact.”
Leonard’s emotional sobriety came back full-force. “Wait, when did you talk to him?”
“He commed in to my debriefing,” Jim said plainly, as though it was obvious. “When the hell did you talk to him? Because there’s no way you were drugged on a sedative and going off on the captain at an official debriefing... did you?”
Leonard raised an eyebrow, considering the possibility. “You know, I could see it happening. But no, kid. He commed me in my quarters last night. I was already in bed when the comm alert sounded.” He tilted his head. “And... uh... I’m kinda lucky I’m not in the brig right now, because insubordination doesn’t even begin to describe it. I... uh... kinda blamed him for the whole mess... for not listening to you and investigating more from his end.”
Jim nodded as though he’d been expecting that. “You and I are really good at spending our brownie points as fast as we earn them.”
Leonard snored. “You can say that again.” He gave Jim a curious look. “What did he say to you?”
Jim’s mouth quirked, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Something about not being able to leave me alone for a minute, and how I need to stop ending up in the infirmary before I give you an aneurysm.”
“Jim...”
But Jim shook his head. “He didn’t say much, actually. He was on the comm link during the entire debriefing, but he just listened the whole time. Asked a couple of questions, but... he kept looking at me, and I’ve never seen that look on him. And as we were wrapping up, he said that he was sorry he hadn’t given me better advice... and that I did the best I could under the circumstances.”
“Well, that’s not exactly helpful,” Leonard said, frowning. “And that was it?”
Jim shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.” Then he smirked. “He also said that you were right, and he’s not writing you up this time, but you’d better learn to control yourself or not accept comm calls when you’re on sedatives.”
“Yeah, I’ll remember that,” Leonard said dryly.
“Hey, we’re both still cadets. We get some leeway for our youth and inexperience.” He was still smirking, but then the smirk faded. “I have no way to know if there will ever be another reason for Pike, or anyone, to go out on a limb and trust me until I get some real experience and rank.”
“And what the hell was the last twenty-four hours? Hell, if that’s not real experience, I’m going AWOL before Starfleet gets me killed in some new and exciting way.”
Jim actually laughed lightly. “Disease and danger, right, Bones?”
“Something like that, kid.”
Jim nodded, and was silent for another moment. “You know... maybe I really should try to stay out of trouble for a while.”
“You? Stay out of trouble? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Jim gave a silent chuckle, then shook his head. “It’s not just that. It’s... I want them to trust me. I thought I wanted that before, but... after Finney died, everyone who was left... they all looked at me and asked me what to do next. They trusted me, Bones. And God, I want to be worthy of that sort of trust. I want to give Pike a reason to believe he made the right decision in giving me a chance. Well... more than one chance, really.”
The sudden weight of the conversation hit Leonard out of nowhere. “Jim...”
But Jim kept pushing forward. “When Pike recruited me, he told me that I’m my father’s son, and maybe I am. I did finally figure out what my father was thinking when he set the collision course. And maybe I succeeded where I’d convinced myself that he’d failed, but I think that was the wrong question in the first place.”
Leonard’s heartbeat was feeling a bit too heavy in his chest. “What’s the right question?”
Jim gave him a bittersweet smile. “Did I do it for the right reasons?”
“And did you?”
For a moment, Jim said nothing, but then he stood. Confused, Leonard scrambled to stand after him, and for the first time, noticed that they had been sitting beneath a viewport the entire time.
From the steep angle below, it had been seemed like nothing but a black panel. As he stood, however, a bright curve filled the bottom of the view - a wash of green, blue, and golden brown. Araxis.
Jim was leaning on the ledge at the bottom of the viewport, looking for all the world like a little boy leaning on a window sill. It was a startling image, in stark contrast to everything Leonard had seen yesterday. The ledge was wide enough for two, so Leonard stepped forward and leaned down on the ledge himself, looking out over the breathtaking view of the planet. He waited in silence until Jim finally spoke.
“They’re alive down there,” Jim said softly, staring out the viewport at the planet below. “Maybe not everyone, but as many as we could have saved. And Johan made it back alive. We made it back alive.” He turned his head so he was looking at Leonard. His face was lit in eerie relief by the blue-green light of the planet shining through the viewport. “I think I did it for the right reasons.”
Leonard licked his own dry lips and nodded. “I think you did, too.”
Jim kept looking at him. “Bones? Can you handle all this? Space? Starfleet?”
Leonard frowned. “Why the hell would you ask me that now, kid? I’m here, ain’t I?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
As Jim kept looking at him, and Araxis turned serenely beneath them, Leonard felt his stomach spin just a bit itself. Not once during the entire crisis had Leonard wished he hadn’t signed up. He hadn’t lamented his decision or wished he’d taken a dirtside internship. It had been hell, but he didn’t regret a moment of it. And now, looking at Jim’s face, which bore a remarkable echo of the expression he’d worn before leaving the room where they’d been held hostage, Leonard knew that he couldn’t wish he’d been anywhere else.
“Yeah, Jim... I can handle it.”
Jim was smiling back at him, with no trace of irony. “I knew that. I just wanted to make sure you did.”
Leonard snorted. “Brat.”
The smile turned mischievous. “You betcha.” Then he sobered again. “No regrets?”
Leonard glanced out the window, then back at Jim. “There are always regrets, kid. Part of the human condition, as far as I can see. But this?” He looked around at the cavernous shadows of the cargo bay, then again out through the viewport. “I don’t regret this, Jim. Not at all.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Good.” He settled himself against the viewport frame again. The glow from the planet outlined his face, and Leonard’s breath caught. There was something so pure and honest about the image... so striking about the look of hope and and excitement and anticipation on the face of a person who had seen so many horrors... it made Leonard want to believe that no matter how bad things got, there was always something beautiful to see, something to hope for, something worth saving.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Leonard re-settled himself against the viewport, too. His arm pressed against Jim’s arm - something warm and solid in a world of cold uncertainty. He smiled. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”
*********
To Chapter 23
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 8,817
Warnings: Foul language, political situations, military stuff.
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: Almost over.
Previous chapters: One, Two, Three, Four(A), Four(B), Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One
Chapter 22
The lights of sickbay were too bright, and Leonard’s head was throbbing as though he’d been on an all-night bender. He’d slept for almost ten hours, and it was almost two hours into alpha shift when he’d finally arrived in sickbay. His alarm hadn’t gone off, and when he’d questioned the computer as to why his alarm had been deactivated, it had politely informed him that Doctor Brex had used his medical override to turn off the alarm for him.
Sneaky bastard. At the same time, Leonard had to respect the trick. He’d probably use it in the future on patients and masochistic officers who needed to get more rest. But still, instead of making him feel rested, the extra sleep almost made him feel as though he had a hangover. The sedative had definitely knocked him out, but it wasn’t exactly the same as natural sleep. Still, it had been better than nothing, which is what he would have gotten without it.
Doctor Singh found him immediately when he arrived, catching him before he’d taken more than five steps into sickbay.
“McCoy, it’s good to see you up and about.”
As much as he didn’t feel like chatting, Singh didn’t deserve the sharp edge of his attitude. She, like everyone else on staff, was overworked and emotionally battered right now. “I’m fine,” he said in resignation. “Just sorry I’m late.”
“Why sorry? Brex ordered you to take a sedative and then he turned off your alarm.” She grinned. “He does things like that. And you probably needed it. Although it looks like you could use some more rest... or a headache pill.”
“Yeah, well... there are other things I need right now. Where’s Jim?”
At that, Singh frowned. “Actually, he was called to a debriefing with the captain just a little while ago. He’ll probably come back when he gets dismissed.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Great, just what the kid needs right now - an interrogation with the captain. Was he actually discharged?”
“Oh yes. Before alpha shift. His chart is in the computer, if you want to check. He seemed fine when I saw him. He had just been waiting here for you until the captain ordered him to report.”
Leonard cast a sideways glance at the chrono on the wall. “When did he leave?”
“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes ago.” She hesitated. “Are you sure you’re okay to start your shift?”
On one hand, Leonard was about as far from okay as he could be. On the other hand... the echoing sounds of weapons fire and explosions in his head were less sharp this morning, and he could almost ignore the faint whiffs of dust and smoke his nose was still telling him were there. He hadn’t been injured, he’d had a full night of sleep, and he’d seen no more death and damage than anyone else around him. There was a shift to work and patients who needed him,
Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. I’m no worse off than anyone else here. I’m ready to go.” Then he grimaced slightly in annoyance. “Although if I could get some coffee, that wouldn’t hurt. Had a cup before I came down, but I can’t find my canteen...”
A shiny metal cylinder suddenly appeared in front of him, and he wrapped his fingers around the familiar curve of his coffee canteen, and looked up in surprise to see Nurse Moretti with a grin on her face. “Walsh found this in the supply room last night after you left and told me to have it full of hot coffee when you got here. She guessed you left it here when you checked out a tricorder and med kit yesterday morning before you went on the landing party.”
Leonard flipped open the lid, closed his eyes, and inhaled the aroma of fresh, hot coffee wafting up from the canteen. “Give Walsh a promotion,” he moaned and took a sip.
Singh laughed lightly at him. “Instant human: just add caffeine. I’d hate to see what would happen if they tried to take you off the stuff.”
“Fire and brimstone coming down from the sky,” Leonard deadpanned. “Forty years of darkness. Earthquakes, volcanoes... human sacrifice. Cats and dogs, living together. Mass hysteria.”
They both looked at him. Moretti blinked.
Leonard sighed. Jim and his stupid vintage movie quotes. “Never mind. Let’s get back to work.”
*********
Leonard threw himself into his work. After the first two patients, he stopped looking at the chrono and glancing at the door for Jim to come back. He couldn’t use the comm if Jim was in a briefing, so he had to wait. Besides, Jim was fine, and there were patients here in front of him who weren’t.
He checked in on Crewman Johan, who was recovering well, much to his satisfaction. He mentioned chatting with Jim, but he didn’t give any details other than to say that he’d seen the kid, and Jim was looking pretty good.
The Tellarite Ambassador was there, recovering from a minor injury from flying debris and a few broken bones. He seemed to be in good spirits, and tried to challenge Leonard to a debate. Leonard said he’d send Jim around if he could.
Cadet Liu stopped in for a follow-up, and Leonard was pleased to see that his emergency handiwork was clean and tidy, and Liu wouldn’t have any permanent muscle damage and barely any scarring on his leg. He would only need to use a crutch for another 24 hours, but that was it. And, of course, Liu asked after Jim. While Leonard ran a regen session and some nerve function tests, Liu gave him play-by-play details of what Jim had done until the moment Liu had arrived in sickbay.
By the time Leonard finally escorted Liu to the door with instructions for therapeutic stretches and follow-up care, his brain was spinning again. It all kept coming back to Jim, and goddammit, Leonard needed to stop thinking about the kid until Porter released him from the debriefing.
He pulled up the full patient roster in sickbay, and was about to check on the security guard with chest wound when Doctor Singh interrupted him.
“How are you holding up?”
Leonard shrugged. “As well as could be expected.”
“Glad to hear it.” She took a quick look at the chrono. “Everything seems under control for the moment. I just finished the second round of repair work on Thompson’s knee, and I need to go grab something to eat. Do you think you’d be able to cover for a little while?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Want anything from the mess hall?”
“Nah,” Leonard said with a casual shake of his head. He really didn’t have much of an appetite.
She gave him a sly smile. “I’ll bring you a sandwich.” And she hurried out the door before he could protest.
Grumbling to himself, Leonard started a quick round of all the patients. He didn’t want to start any major procedures without a backup doctor on hand in case something went critical on another patient, but when he got to the third bay, he stopped cold.
“Doctor McCoy,” the Kazarite Ambassador said, sounding hopeful. “I had wondered if you would return.”
Quickly, Leonard un-froze himself and set to work reviewing vitals and doing a routine scan. “I’m just here to check on you,” he said as neutrally as possible. “You’re scheduled for some more repair work on your left leg in a couple of hours. How are your pain levels?”
“My pain is negligible. But please, doctor...”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Leonard snapped, unable to hold back. And why should he hold back? A powerful telepath like this already knew exactly how angry he was. It was bad enough that he’d taken it out on Pike last night (and the embarrassment over that outburst was still burning his ears) but this person was the real target of his fury. “I’m just here to take care of you. I’ll give you the best medical care, but that’s it.”
“The medical care has been exemplary. And I know you don’t want to talk to me,” the Kazarite said mildly, “but you want to hear what I have to say.”
“Do I now?” Leonard drawled sarcastically. “So go on... tell me what else I’m thinking.”
If the Ambassador was offended by the sarcasm, he didn’t show it. “You already know your own thoughts. I wish to share mine. I am Ambassador Hai’ksha, Doctor McCoy. Terrans seem to have difficulty with smooth pronunciation, so you may call me Sha.”
“Ambassador Sha,” Leonard acknowledged uneasily. Damn, he really didn’t want to have this conversation... but the Ambassador was right. He wanted to know just what the ever-blazing hell had been going through this guy’s thick skull. Even though blind anger was easier, Jim had said that Kazarites were peaceful, and this seemed like the last thing in which a member of his species would get involved. Yeah, Leonard wanted information. But... not now, dammit!
“I wish for you to understand this, McCoy. After your ordeal, you deserve to know. The Captain can not tell you, but I can. Also, the USS Intrepid is intercepting us tomorrow morning, and I shall be going with them.”
The message was clear. If he wanted the real story, straight from the horse’s mouth, this was his only chance. There were hundreds or thousands of reasons - all of them dead or injured - for Leonard to simply give him a succinct fuck you and walk away. However, this was the guy with answers. Besides, if he didn’t get this information, Jim would be pissed at him later.
Leonard shifted his weight and centered himself. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit, so he said the first thing that came to mind.
“How did you do it? No, forget that... how could you?”
The Ambassador actually flinched, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before making tentative eye contact. “You and your friend actually figured out most of it. Everything you have considered -- your friend is a very clever man, and so are you.”
Leonard let that sink in. He and Jim had been right... but about what? “There was enough evidence that the command staff here should have been able to figure it out,” Leonard said cautiously. “Did you plant ideas in their heads? Did you stop the Captain from investigating?” If that was the case, then it was no wonder Porter had apologized.
Sha closed his eyes and his face twisted in an expression that Leonard took for remorse. “I did.”
Leonard clenched his teeth together for a moment, then forced himself to relax the muscles in his shoulders. He didn’t need to work himself up into a rage. Not yet, anyway. “Doctor Brex told me that telepaths couldn't do that.”
“Betazoids can’t,” Sha explained. “But you are aware that some species of humanoids can see ultraviolet and infrared light, and some produce sound outside your range of hearing? Kazarites' telepathy works outside the range of Betazoids'.”
Leonard nodded, trying to accept this, while keeping a lid on his anger. “So... you’re some sort of super-telepath... which means you had to have known what the Axanar were planning. So... goddammit, why?” He forced himself to take a calming breath. “While I was on the planet... Jim said that he didn’t think you wanted to do this. He said that Kazarites hate violence, and that you had to have been tricked or manipulated or something. But I admit, I’m having a hard time buying into that. I don’t see how you can trick a telepath. So... yeah, tell me why. If your people are peaceful, and you’re not some violent aberration, then why the hell would you let something like this happen?”
“It is... more complicated than you understand, Doctor McCoy,” Sha said, hesitantly.
“Ain’t it always?” Leonard mumbled to himself. “So... this is what you want to tell me? I’m listening.”
Sha nodded. “Originally, I was a researcher. My family... all of them... died fifteen years ago. It was an earthquake, in a seismically stable area. Our house collapsed while I was away. I could have remained with distant relatives, but... I chose to leave Kazar. It was easier than remaining at home with the constant reminders of my losses. I was eventually sent to help rehabilitate the domesticated animal populations of Axanar after the Battle ten years ago. It was a noble and pure purpose. It helped to fill the void left by my family.” His face became wistful, and despite an appearance so very different from humans, the expression was easy to read. Leonard thought he looked shockingly young. Innocent. And wounded. “Their people were deeply linked with each other for lacking even rudimentary telepathy, and when they began to speak of their lost brethren on Araxis, I understood their sense of loss. It seemed overwhelming.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow. “You lived with them all that time... embedded in their society?” This changed the entire picture.
“Yes.” He closed and opened his eyes slowly. “It was a good home, amongst good people. I had a strong sense of purpose in my work, and a sense of community, despite being so far from home. In time, I was introduced by the Minister of Agriculture to other members of the House of Lords, and was eventually asked to become an Ambassador. I did not expect such a thing, but I felt a bond with these people who had nearly lost everything. Their love of kin was much like that of my people. I know what it is like to lose those who are dearest to you, and I recognized this sort of pain. I sympathized with it, and wished to help.”
Leonard had wanted to stay furious at the Kazarite, but he felt his inclination towards anger begin to fade. Nodding, he took a step closer. “But the things they asked you to do... you had to have known they were wrong.”
“I did, and yet... I thought it was for the greater good.” He looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. “Such horrific things in history have been done under that guise. I should have seen it. The Axanar... I had not understood their intentions. I was naive and foolish.”
Leonard frowned. “Okay, but I still don’t understand -- how the hell didn’t you know what they had planned?”
Sha cringed slightly and looked downwards.
“Every telepathic species’ sense works differently. My people are extremely adept telepaths, but we lack a certain range of perception that others seem to achieve easily. There is a reason why we choose to work with animals and avoid politics, Doctor McCoy. We have almost no sense of deception.”
Leonard felt his mouth fall open and stared incredulously at the Kazarite. “You really couldn’t tell?”
Sha’s eyes closed and opened slowly before he looked back up at Leonard. “I knew their plans were complicated, but I didn’t truly understand until things were already in motion. I was told that I would only be monitoring the thoughts of the other party, and reporting to the Axanar if there was any problem with the new Araxian government, or if Federation representatives did not favor their plans. At most, I would gently sway opinions to ensure that the Axanar and Araxians would reunite.”
“But it didn’t work out that way.”
Sha’s face twisted in remorse. “When Doctor Brex detected my activity, I was instructed to stop him and intercept his communiques. It was reprehensible, but I had sworn my protection to the Axanar. I knew it would cause Doctor Brex no permanent damage. The captain and other senior officers would naturally be concerned for their crew member and suspicious of the circumstances, and I was to convince them that it was an unfortunate happenstance. I argued with my Axanar friends, but in the end, they insisted it was necessary to bring their people together again without interference. And I listened to them.”
Leonard was frowning in distaste, but he could see how such a thing would happen. “By the time you realized what they were asking of you, it was too late to back out.”
Sha nodded, then shook his head. “I could have backed out at any time, McCoy, but at what price? You see... not only had I grown close to these people, but the promise of protection is a serious oath on Axanar. I couldn’t merely back out of my obligation. I felt certain that their efforts to reunite their people would be fruitful, and that all of those involved would be joyful at their reunion once the process was complete. It was a narrative of pure fiction that I wove for myself; a fanciful child’s tale, and I made myself believe it. I was kept from the mainstream Araxian population, surrounded only by Axanar, and I did not hear the thoughts of the Araxians. And so... I allowed myself to be pulled into this plan, even after I knew what was happening... until the battle began.”’
Sha’s voice broke for a moment, and Leonard found himself starting to reach for him, instinctively wanting to comfort a patient in distress. He held himself back, though. He wasn’t ready for that.
After a moment, Sha seemed to pull himself together. “When I realized the depth of what was unfolding, I told the Axanar that I was going to inform Starfleet. It had gone too far, and I wished to stop it. That’s when the second explosion at Parliament brought the roof down on us. The Axanar minister I had served for nearly five years - my colleague and friend - was crushed to death beside me... and I am not sure whether to grieve or not.”
Leonard opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. He wasn’t even sure he was able to process this. Such a huge disaster, all resting on the naïve hope of a generous-hearted being that everything would work out. Leonard looked at him for a moment, feeling a profound sense of pity, and wondering what sort of guilt the Ambassador must be feeling. He couldn’t even begin to imagine it.
“You were going to blow their plan... “ But then he had another thought, and he felt his eyes go wide. “Ambassador Sha, were you supposed to mess with everyone’s perceptions?”
At that, Sha smiled. A pained, tense smile. “No. Only those who I was instructed to influence. The command crew. The security staff. Any Federation Ambassadors that became suspicious.” He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again. “Any telepaths who might detect my activity or read the intentions of the Axanar. I also regret the headaches I caused the partial telepaths onboard.”
Leonard was nodding to himself, letting himself read into the Kazarite’s words. “So... not everyone. You knew that Jim and I suspected something was going on, didn't you?”
Sha's smile returned. “I did. But the Axanar do not consider those of low rank to be important, and I did not tell them about you. I had hoped... if things went too far... that there would be a way out.”
Leonard studied the Kazarite’s face. “But you couldn’t just tell someone?”
“We all wish to be brave, McCoy. We wish to do the right thing. But I? I am a coward. I left when my family died, even though my extended family begged me to stay. I hid in my work. And once I’d found a life in which to hide, I was afraid to lose it. How could I defy the Axanar? Protection is lauded by the their people. but if you fail once protection is promised? Such shame, McCoy. And I was part of their society for so long...” His voice trailed off.
Feeling unsteady on his feet, Leonard took a couple of awkward steps and leaned heavily against a supply cabinet. “We all learn lessons the hard way, don’t we?” he said roughly.
“We do,” came Sha’s soft reply. “But I am still alive, and can go home to my family once again... if they will have me. And so can you. But I will never be able to fix the evils that have been suffered due to my actions today. I would beg your forgiveness, McCoy.”
“I...” He looked back at the Kazarite’s pleading eyes. The last thing he could do was offer a false forgiveness here. “I don’t know if I can do that yet... because I haven’t even learned to forgive myself for the shit I’ve done. But... I can tell you that I understand.”
Sha nodded in gratitude. “That is more than I should hope to expect. Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”
“Yeah... you’re... uh... welcome.” He glanced down at the PADD in his hand and scrolled through Sha’s chart. “It says you folks don’t sleep much except when you’re injured, but that you’re pretty good at self-healing. So... we’ve got you scheduled for that repair work in a couple of hours. Try to get some sleep, and hit your call button if you need anything.”
Sha merely nodded again, and closed his eyes without another word. It was damned unnerving.
Leonard took a few steps backwards and all but stumbled out of the Kazarite’s treatment bay. His head was buzzing with everything he’d just heard. He’d wanted to stay angry... he’d needed someone to be angry at. But now, he had nothing except the vague specter of the Axanar, and that was so broad, so nameless... it just left him feeling empty.
And the knowledge that the Kazarite had hoped that he and Jim, of all people, would blow the plan? Maybe he should feel good about that, but he just felt used.
Empty and used.
And utterly alone.
“McCoy? Are you okay?”
Leonard blinked a few times and realized he was standing in the middle of sickbay, staring blankly past Doctor Singh, who was looking at him with unmasked concern. “I... yeah, sorry. Just had a bit of a chat with one of the patients.”
“The Kazarite, huh?”
“Gee, how’d you guess?”
“I didn’t,” she said plainly. “ I just saw you walk out of his treatment bay. When we changed out shifts, Brex mentioned that the Ambassador had wanted to speak to you.”
“Something like that,” Leonard mumbled.
Singh blew out an exasperated breath and held out a small bag. “Well, I won’t pry, but in the meantime, whether or not he put you off your appetite, you’re running on fumes. I don’t have to scan you to see that. So have yourself a sandwich and take a break.”
He accepted the bag and sniffed it. The scent of toasted bread met his nose, and despite his complete lack of an appetite, he had to appreciate the offer. “Thank you. I’m not really hungry... but I didn’t eat much for breakfast, so maybe I’ll stop around noon for a bite.”
Singh frowned. “It’s already 1220 hours.”
“What?” Leonard turned his head towards the wall chrono so fast that his neck twinged, making his eyes water. He blinked a few times. Singh was right. It was well past lunchtime.
“McCoy... I ran into Ankewicz down in the mess hall. He went off-duty at midnight last night, and he’s had some rest now. He said he could come in earlier if we needed him. How about I call him in, and you go off-duty for a while, eat something, and come back when you’re feeling better.”
“I’m feeling fine,” Leonard grumbled.
“And I’m a Klingon diplomat.” She fixed him with an unwavering stare.
“Okay.” He crinkled the lunch bag in his hand. “I’ll be back in 30 minutes.”
“I hope not,” she said mildly. “Come back when you’re ready, and not a moment sooner.”
Leonard nodded stiffly and walked out of sickbay without a single look back. The thing that bothered him most is that she was right, and he really wasn’t okay. He’d seen and heard too much in the past twenty-four hours, and the conversation with the Kazarite felt like the last straw. And for that matter, he still hadn’t talked to Jim.
Leonard stopped so suddenly in the middle of the hallway that he almost tripped.
It was after noon already, so there was no way Jim was still in the debriefing. He’d been ordered off-duty, so after the debriefing, they should have released him. He hadn’t come back to sickbay yet. Scowling, Leonard hurried over to the nearest computer terminal. “Computer... location of Cadet Kirk.”
“Cadet Kirk is in Cargo Bay Two.”
Leonard frowned. “A cargo bay? Who else is in there?”
“Cadet Kirk is the only person in Cargo Bay Two.”
“What the hell is he doing in there?” Leonard mused under his breath.
“The purpose of Cadet Kirk’s presence in Cargo Bay Two is unknown.”
“Shut up,” Leonard snapped off-handedly. He was already putting the pieces together. He knew Jim Kirk. Something must have been said in the debriefing, or Jim had heard or seen something that had been that little bit too much - something about straws and camels - and the kid had gone off to try to put his head back together. So after everything he’d gone through, Jim was alone. Leonard just wasn’t going to let him stay that way.
With a determined nod, Leonard hurried to the nearest turbolift and slipped inside. “Cargo Bay Two.”
*********
The instant he walked into the cargo bay, Leonard knew exactly why Jim had taken refuge there. The lights were subdued, and the only sound was the low thrum of the impulse engines keeping the ship in orbit. Silence and shadows. Peace and tranquility... or the only thing on this ship that came close. There was no reason for any of the crew to come to the cargo bay right now, so it was possibly the only place on the ship where Jim was guaranteed the solace he was probably seeking.
Somehow, Leonard guessed that Jim wouldn’t mind if he interrupted.
He was just about to call out when he heard Jim’s voice echo through the cavernous room.
“Up here, Bones.”
It took Leonard a moment of looking until he spotted a shadow on what looked like a platform or catwalk on the far wall. “Dammit, Jim,” he said softly, with more affection than malice.
“I’ll come down.”
“No,” Leonard said quickly. “I’ll be right up.”
“You hate heights.” Jim’s voice was both surprised and amused.
“I hate space, too, and look where I am. So sit your ass down and stay put.”
Leonard crossed the cargo bay and found the base of the ladder. Sure, he could let Jim climb down, but he was coming to find the kid, so he was going the whole way. He was still carrying the sandwich bag, so he held the bag in his teeth as he grabbed the ladder and hauled himself up.
It was dark and shadowy on the platform, but he could see the amused look on Jim’s face clearly enough.
“Here... lemme get that for you, Bones.” Jim took the bag out of his mouth with one hand, and reached out another to finish pulling Leonard through the opening in the platform railing. “What’s in the bag?”
Leonard crawled away from the edge of the platform and leaned back against the wall with a tired groan, more for melodrama than anything. “It’s a sandwich. Doctor Singh brought it for me from the mess hall, but...” He shot Jim a look. “You eaten yet today?”
Jim shrugged. “My stomach still aches a bit. It’s not bad, but I’m not really hungry.” He shifted around and settled himself next to Leonard, leaning his back against the wall, bringing his knees up to rest his hands on them.
Leonard resisted the urge to start questioning Jim about his injury. He had so many other things he wanted to ask and tell and discuss. God damn it, it felt like there was a blockade in his brain, holding back everything he’d been meaning to say and wanting to ask, and if he let it out all at once, he’d get trampled in his own thoughts and bring Jim down with him. Instead, he took a deep breath and started with the easiest thing. “What have you been doing all day?”
Jim shrugged. “Just the debriefing. Then I came here. Kinda wish I’d gone to my quarters to get my PADD so I could read a bit, but it didn’t seem worth going back.”
“You didn’t come back to sickbay after the debriefing, either,” Leonard said neutrally.
“They said I was discharged, so I didn’t think I had to.” Jim was carefully looking everywhere but at him, but Leonard didn’t need that tell to know it was bullshit.
“I never said you had to. But Doctor Singh said you’d been waiting for me before they called you to the debriefing. She guessed you planned to come back.” He shifted so his body was turned more towards Jim. “So what happened in there?”
For the briefest instant, Leonard swore he saw Jim’s face clench with emotion before the kid painted over it with a slow shake of his head and a brittle laugh. “It was a debriefing. We talked about the shit that happened down on the surface. I’m sure you remember that it was a bit of a mess, so the briefing wasn’t exactly a round of campfire stories.”
“I didn’t expect that it would be. Mine wasn’t exactly a cakewalk.”
“Yeah,” Jim’s voice was dry and rough. “They asked me about Lieutenant Finney.”
“Wha... wait, Finney?” His eyes went a bit wider. “You were fresh out of sickbay and they interrogated you about the death of your commanding officer?”
“It’s okay.” Jim’s voice was softer now. “They needed to. It’s protocol. Unless there are extenuating circumstances, they need statements from everyone involved or witnessing the death of an officer or crewman within twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll show them a set of goddamned extenuating circumstances, those insensitive, bull-headed -”
“It’s fine, Bones. It’s done. I don’t have to do it later.” Jim looked as though he was about to keep talking, but he snapped his mouth shut and stared off into the shadows. Leonard wasn’t sure what to say, so he waited. Finally, Jim spoke again, more quietly this time.
“I tried not to think about it while I was still on the surface,” Jim said, talking more to the shadows than to Leonard. “But... after Finney died, while we were waiting for rescue, I kept thinking... that he made the wrong call. That he put everyone at risk. He was injured, and he couldn’t have been thinking clearly, but no matter the reason, he made the wrong call. I just didn’t want to let myself think like that. He was my leader... and he’d just died in front of me. I couldn’t let myself blame him.”
Leonard wanted to say something, but what?
Jim’s eyes had focused at some point in the distance. It was the look he got when he was putting things together. “While I was down there, it didn’t matter if his order had been right or wrong. Just act, don’t think. We followed the order, and when it all went to hell, we just kept doing what we needed to do to survive. I was a cadet, following protocols. It took the weight off my shoulders, and that’s supposed to be reassuring. But Bones?” His eyes focused back on Leonard, sharp and clear, and shining just a little bit in the shadows of the cargo bay. “It wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t...what?”
“Reassuring. To just let someone else make the call when I knew it was wrong. That’s one of the things we learn to do when we’re subordinates - let someone else make the call, and we just execute the orders.” His hands suddenly clenched into fists on his knees. “I’ve always trusted my gut instinct, and distrusted anyone who ever told me to put that aside and listen to them. Maybe it’s because all the people I’ve ever met who had absolute authority either tried to beat the snot out of me, or tried to kill me flat out.”
Jim sucked in a sharp breath at the same time as Leonard felt the air go a bit scarce in his lungs. It was true - anyone with absolute authority of Jim in his youth had abused the position. It had taken two years of Academy training and working under competent leaders for Jim to begin trusting his superiors... and now this.
“And I knew I should have listened to myself,” Jim finally continued. “And so when they asked me about Finney’s orders in the debriefing... I told them exactly what had happened.”
Leonard let that sink in, and his eyebrows furrowed together. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in a debriefing?”
Jim shrugged. “Yeah, but we always have choices in what we say. At the end of the day, I left a shadow on the record of a dead man. He was a good officer, and a good leader. He just made a mistake.”
“A mistake that could have gotten people killed if you hadn’t stepped up.”
“It got him killed. I just... hope they focus on the good things he did in his career instead of what I said.”
“Jim... you’re one of those people who will say what needs to be said, even if the truth is ugly. Some people can’t handle that. The report has the truth on it. The rest will sort itself out.”
“Yeah,” Jim said, but he didn’t sound like he meant it. The both fell silent for a moment, and Jim looked away again. Finally, he said, “So how are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.” The words came automatically.
Jim snorted and shook his head. “You were pretty freaked out the last time I saw you. And Bones? You’re shaking, and I don’t think it’s the heights. So now that you’ve interrogated me, it’s your turn. Are you okay? What happened?”
Leonard tilted his head, not in concession, but because shrugging would take too much effort. “I got pulled into a debriefing right after we got back to the ship. After that, I came back to sickbay, but they had you out cold. Doctor Brex talked to me, and ordered me to take a sedative. I got enough sleep. Then I came back to sickbay this morning. You weren’t there, so I worked on patients all morning. Oh, and I talked to the Kazarite Ambassador. You were right about him. Pretty much about everything. The Axanar pressured him into it, he didn’t want to, and yeah, he manipulated the bridge crew. But anyway, I don’t really want to talk about it. And then I came up here to find you.”
Jim looked at him incredulously. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Shit, Jim, what do you want me to say! That’s what happened! You know everything else.”
“I want to know if you’re okay, you asshole.”
“Goddammit, Jim, I’m fine. See?” He held out his arms. “No gaping wounds, no panic attacks.”
Jim, jackass that he was, actually rolled his eyes in mock impatience, then let out a low sigh. “The captain told me a bit about your report after I finished mine. Not much, but enough that I could read between the lines.”
“What lines, kid? I watched people dying and dead for reasons that only make sense if you can accept the fact that the Axanar had started all that political horse shit in the first place. I saw a civilization push itself to the blood-spattered brink. And... goddammit, Jim, I saw you almost sacrifice yourself! Those aren’t lines, Jim!” He could feel his breath coming hot and tight in his chest, and he had to force himself to breathe more evenly.
Jim, however, was looking at him almost sadly. “That’s what I mean.” He sighed. “I almost went to find you and drag you off-duty, but I knew you’d come find me when you were ready.”
“Oh? How’d you know that, kid?”
Jim gave him an enigmatic smile. “Because I’ve known you for two years, and you always come to find me. But mostly...” His smile faded into seriousness. “I saw your face yesterday, right before I left the room in the storage building.”
In a flash, the image that Leonard had been trying to forget all day came rushing back to him.
The look on his face... oh God, the look on his face...
Echoes of words shrouded in a drug-induced haze, and damn, had Leonard really said all that to a captain? Leonard pushed it out of his mind and tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry even for that. He let his jaw hang loosely, and tried to remember to breathe. “Jim, I...”
Jim stopped him by shaking his head. “Listen, I... damn, how do I say this?”
“In Standard would be easiest,” Bones said thinly. “But I’ve heard you speak about five other languages.”
Jim shot him an utterly bemused look. “Six. Asshole.” His expression sobered. “Listen... you saved my life once, but even before that... I’ve never had someone I could rely on like this, and when I saw you sitting there, in that room, watching me leave...”
But Leonard cut him off. “Jim, the look on your face just about broke me. You looked like... goddammit, you looked like a man being frog-marched to his own funeral, and that you were okay with it!”
Jim grabbed his arm, and there was something desperate in his eyes. “I was okay with it! The only thing I wasn’t okay with... was the fact that you were looking at me like I’d already died.”
“Jim...”
But Jim was shaking his head slowly, sadly, and he let go of Leonard’s arm and sank back heavily against the wall. “I didn’t want you to stay. I didn’t want to go out there thinking that if I failed, you were going to die with the rest of them. But knowing why you were staying? God, Bones.” He leaned his head into his hands. “I almost changed my mind when I saw the way you were looking at me.”
Leonard swallowed against the painful dryness in his throat. “But you knew that it was the only chance those people had.”
“Yeah,” came Jim’s answer in a rough whisper. “I had to. But you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did,” Leonard growled softly.
Jim snorted at him. “I don’t even think you were worried about yourself and the fact that you might have died down there. Actually, I’m sure you weren’t thinking about that at all. Hyper-focusing on me so you didn’t have to worry about yourself.”
“Well, I’m kinda good at focusing on other people’s shit so I don’t have to think about my own.”
Jim was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly. “Bones, you’ve spent the entire time wondering if I was okay, but nobody asked you, did they? Did anyone really check on you after all this?”
“Well, Doctor Brex did. But I can’t exactly wallow in my own bullshit when there are patients who need help.”
“Well, I’m glad Brex looked after you, but I’m not just talking about here and now. I mean ever. ”
“I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything right now. I’m fine, and that’s not the point, Jim. You have to -”
“Bones.” Jim was looking at him, and his eyes went a bit wider. “Nobody ever asked you if you were okay.” It wasn’t a question. “You keep asking everyone else how they’re feeling, and you worry yourself sick over people... yeah, including me... but who ever looked after you? Who asked how you were feeling?”
Bones felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut. “Jim, it’s my job to ask how other people are feeling. I’m a doctor. It’s what I do.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need anyone to look after you.” He shook his head with an expression of disbelief. “Fuck, I’m an asshole. I should have stopped into sickbay anyway. You always look after everyone else, and I just expected you to come find me, but I should have found you this time. I’ll bet your ex didn’t ask you if you were okay when you were up to your eyeballs in dealing with everyone else’s problems. She didn’t ask if you were okay when you were staying up all night, every night, for months, trying to cure your father... did she?”
“That’s not what this is about...” But Leonard’s words lost their momentum on their own.
Jim nodded at him slowly. “You worried about walking away from people... that you didn’t put them first... but I don’t think anyone ever put you first either. You said you took them for granted, but they took you for granted.” He sounded like he was on the verge of saying something, and couldn’t quite tip over that edge.
“Jim?”
Jim squared his shoulders. “Bones... I know you don’t think sincerity is one of my strong suits, but... I have never taken you for granted. I just... I need you to know that.”
Leonard stared at Jim through the shadows in disbelief. He knew that, of course. Jim had said it dozens or hundreds of times without ever actually saying it. It’s how they were. It was that bizarre sort of friendship that was completely reliable and you knew it would always be there, but you couldn’t put it aside or let it sit idly. Or maybe that was just the way Jim was. Because, even though the kid might be a certifiable asshole sometimes, there was something so unique about him that on the rare occasion when Leonard let himself think about it, it was enough to make his head spin.
Slowly, feeling detached from his body at the same time as he’d never felt more completely in-the-present, Leonard reached out and grasped Jim’s forearm. “Me too, Jim. I... goddammit.” In one rapid movement, before he could talk himself out of it like the emotionally stunted cynical old man that he pretended to be, he pulled Jim into a fierce hug. He held fast and tight, refusing to feel awkward, and squeezing Jim as though anything less of a grip would let the kid be swept away by squads of militants and explosions and weapons fire and all Leonard would have left would be the dead husk of a body that had once been his best friend.
And Jim held him. “I know, Bones. I know.”
After a moment - seconds or minutes, Leonard wasn’t quite sure - they broke apart at the same time. In silence, they sat back against the wall, shoulder pressing against shoulder, watching the shadows and listening to the hum of the impulse engines.
Whatever else had happened, whatever hell they’d gone through, and however much of a jackass Jim Kirk would always be, it was okay. Somehow, for that moment, things were okay. Maybe later, Leonard would break down, but for now, he was fine. He really was.
Then Jim cleared his throat. “Uh... Bones? By the way... what the hell did you say to Captain Pike?”
Leonard inhaled so fast he almost choked on the air in his lungs. He hadn’t thought about it all day... he’d almost forgotten... in fact, he had forgotten most of what he’d said to Pike. He remembered being pretty damned pissed, and blaming the guy for not doing something to stop the disaster from unravelling. He’d been upset and furious and sad and... dizzy...
“Seriously, what the hell did you say to Pike?”
Leonard snorted with delirious amusement. Whatever he’d said, he knew that he’d mouthed off to one of the most powerful people at the Academy, and probably the most influential captain in the ‘fleet. He’d been drugged and messed up and... he was laughing now. Shaking with inappropriate mirth. “Gave him a piece of my damn mind,” he choked out between wheezy laughs. “Don’t much remember what I said... I was kinda drugged to the gills at the time - sedative and all - but... oh shit. Oh shit.”
He wiped his arm roughly across his face, scrubbing away the half-assed tears that were leaking from his eyes and forcing him to mentally sober up. “I’m sorry.... sorry, Jim. I just... I’d almost forgotten about it. And no, I don’t remember much of what I said.”
Jim was looking at him warily, as if expecting him to go crazy at any moment. “Well, whatever you said, Bones... it must have made an impact.”
Leonard’s emotional sobriety came back full-force. “Wait, when did you talk to him?”
“He commed in to my debriefing,” Jim said plainly, as though it was obvious. “When the hell did you talk to him? Because there’s no way you were drugged on a sedative and going off on the captain at an official debriefing... did you?”
Leonard raised an eyebrow, considering the possibility. “You know, I could see it happening. But no, kid. He commed me in my quarters last night. I was already in bed when the comm alert sounded.” He tilted his head. “And... uh... I’m kinda lucky I’m not in the brig right now, because insubordination doesn’t even begin to describe it. I... uh... kinda blamed him for the whole mess... for not listening to you and investigating more from his end.”
Jim nodded as though he’d been expecting that. “You and I are really good at spending our brownie points as fast as we earn them.”
Leonard snored. “You can say that again.” He gave Jim a curious look. “What did he say to you?”
Jim’s mouth quirked, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Something about not being able to leave me alone for a minute, and how I need to stop ending up in the infirmary before I give you an aneurysm.”
“Jim...”
But Jim shook his head. “He didn’t say much, actually. He was on the comm link during the entire debriefing, but he just listened the whole time. Asked a couple of questions, but... he kept looking at me, and I’ve never seen that look on him. And as we were wrapping up, he said that he was sorry he hadn’t given me better advice... and that I did the best I could under the circumstances.”
“Well, that’s not exactly helpful,” Leonard said, frowning. “And that was it?”
Jim shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.” Then he smirked. “He also said that you were right, and he’s not writing you up this time, but you’d better learn to control yourself or not accept comm calls when you’re on sedatives.”
“Yeah, I’ll remember that,” Leonard said dryly.
“Hey, we’re both still cadets. We get some leeway for our youth and inexperience.” He was still smirking, but then the smirk faded. “I have no way to know if there will ever be another reason for Pike, or anyone, to go out on a limb and trust me until I get some real experience and rank.”
“And what the hell was the last twenty-four hours? Hell, if that’s not real experience, I’m going AWOL before Starfleet gets me killed in some new and exciting way.”
Jim actually laughed lightly. “Disease and danger, right, Bones?”
“Something like that, kid.”
Jim nodded, and was silent for another moment. “You know... maybe I really should try to stay out of trouble for a while.”
“You? Stay out of trouble? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Jim gave a silent chuckle, then shook his head. “It’s not just that. It’s... I want them to trust me. I thought I wanted that before, but... after Finney died, everyone who was left... they all looked at me and asked me what to do next. They trusted me, Bones. And God, I want to be worthy of that sort of trust. I want to give Pike a reason to believe he made the right decision in giving me a chance. Well... more than one chance, really.”
The sudden weight of the conversation hit Leonard out of nowhere. “Jim...”
But Jim kept pushing forward. “When Pike recruited me, he told me that I’m my father’s son, and maybe I am. I did finally figure out what my father was thinking when he set the collision course. And maybe I succeeded where I’d convinced myself that he’d failed, but I think that was the wrong question in the first place.”
Leonard’s heartbeat was feeling a bit too heavy in his chest. “What’s the right question?”
Jim gave him a bittersweet smile. “Did I do it for the right reasons?”
“And did you?”
For a moment, Jim said nothing, but then he stood. Confused, Leonard scrambled to stand after him, and for the first time, noticed that they had been sitting beneath a viewport the entire time.
From the steep angle below, it had been seemed like nothing but a black panel. As he stood, however, a bright curve filled the bottom of the view - a wash of green, blue, and golden brown. Araxis.
Jim was leaning on the ledge at the bottom of the viewport, looking for all the world like a little boy leaning on a window sill. It was a startling image, in stark contrast to everything Leonard had seen yesterday. The ledge was wide enough for two, so Leonard stepped forward and leaned down on the ledge himself, looking out over the breathtaking view of the planet. He waited in silence until Jim finally spoke.
“They’re alive down there,” Jim said softly, staring out the viewport at the planet below. “Maybe not everyone, but as many as we could have saved. And Johan made it back alive. We made it back alive.” He turned his head so he was looking at Leonard. His face was lit in eerie relief by the blue-green light of the planet shining through the viewport. “I think I did it for the right reasons.”
Leonard licked his own dry lips and nodded. “I think you did, too.”
Jim kept looking at him. “Bones? Can you handle all this? Space? Starfleet?”
Leonard frowned. “Why the hell would you ask me that now, kid? I’m here, ain’t I?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
As Jim kept looking at him, and Araxis turned serenely beneath them, Leonard felt his stomach spin just a bit itself. Not once during the entire crisis had Leonard wished he hadn’t signed up. He hadn’t lamented his decision or wished he’d taken a dirtside internship. It had been hell, but he didn’t regret a moment of it. And now, looking at Jim’s face, which bore a remarkable echo of the expression he’d worn before leaving the room where they’d been held hostage, Leonard knew that he couldn’t wish he’d been anywhere else.
“Yeah, Jim... I can handle it.”
Jim was smiling back at him, with no trace of irony. “I knew that. I just wanted to make sure you did.”
Leonard snorted. “Brat.”
The smile turned mischievous. “You betcha.” Then he sobered again. “No regrets?”
Leonard glanced out the window, then back at Jim. “There are always regrets, kid. Part of the human condition, as far as I can see. But this?” He looked around at the cavernous shadows of the cargo bay, then again out through the viewport. “I don’t regret this, Jim. Not at all.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Good.” He settled himself against the viewport frame again. The glow from the planet outlined his face, and Leonard’s breath caught. There was something so pure and honest about the image... so striking about the look of hope and and excitement and anticipation on the face of a person who had seen so many horrors... it made Leonard want to believe that no matter how bad things got, there was always something beautiful to see, something to hope for, something worth saving.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Leonard re-settled himself against the viewport, too. His arm pressed against Jim’s arm - something warm and solid in a world of cold uncertainty. He smiled. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”
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To Chapter 23