[FIC] Star Trek: Then, Suddenly, Life Changed [3/6] (Kirk/McCoy, R)
Title: Then, Suddenly, Life Changed [3/6]
Authors: salvaged_pride and sullacat
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Summary: In honor of the one year anniversary of the movie, an AU - What if Leonard McCoy had been at the bar that night? Two men, a cycle, and a trip that changes their lives. 5922 words -- Look for future chapters every other day.
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Distance Traveled:
The silence mostly continued into the morning. They broke camp together with only an occasional grunt from either of them to get it all packed up and back into the saddle bag on Jim's cycle. Jim caught McCoy wincing from time to time, rubbing at his back as if it bothered him. ...Not used to sleeping on the ground, that's for fucking sure. Least he'll have hotel rooms from now on.
They were back on the road after the sun had started rising, giving a glow against their backs as they chased the remainders of the night towards Denver. They were headed west now, the cycle the only sound but the wind. McCoy offered no words, so Jim just let the silence continue between them and instead turned into his own thoughts.
He wondered if the cause of McCoy's divorce was his drinking, and that was why the man had reacted so harshly to it. Or maybe he just didn't want to admit to his own faults. Jim also wondered if he was really looking as thin as McCoy said. He had always been strong, he had muscle on his form, but... well, maybe he needed a few good meals on his bones. Money was something that came and went, sometimes he didn't have to worry about it and sometimes he ached for even a little bit to get by. It wasn't a great life, not by most definitions, but at least it was a life he had chosen after he had run from Starfleet.
And now, it seemed, Starfleet was finding him no matter how much he tried.
It had been stupid to go to Riverside, where he knew Starfleet had a heavy presence there. It wasn't like anyone would recognize him - James Tiberius Kirk had ceased to exist in the visual minds of people a long time ago until his father was just some glorified hero no one knew anything about and the children he had sired were a myth. Jim preferred it that way. He had a record, both schooling and criminal, but nothing anyone looked twice at. Not dangerous enough to be in jail, and with too much of a criminal history to look at the schooling. He still learned, even kept up with the latest changes the best he could thanks to libraries and the news. Why, he never really questioned why, just the idea that if he didn't keep learning, life got boring and meaningless fast.
The town he found he couldn't have named until they went past a welcome sign on the outskirts of it. North Platte. Some tiny, barely on the map town in Nebraska. Jim pulled up in front of the first place he spotted that looked decent and turned off the cycle.
They went inside and found a table, McCoy ordering his coffee and toast. He was quiet, but clear-eyed, watching everything with a sort of curiosity that Jim hadn't seen before. It almost looked like he might be having fun. "Gonna be a pretty day," McCoy said absently, twisting in his chair to pop his back. "If you find us a grocery store, I'll get you some provisions for later. You know, repay you for the ride. Unless, you know, you just want the money."
Jim made a mental note to offer McCoy a back popping later. The offer to pay him was a nice one, but that wasn't why he was doing this. "Nah, but some supplies would be great." He just couldn't seem to figure out McCoy, who seemed to have mood changes as fast as the weather changed.
"Whatever you want," McCoy told him, giving him a grin. "You know, I can't tell you the last time I slept so hard. Must be the air," he wondered aloud, thanking the wait staff who brought his toast. "I might order more of this, I'm actually hungry this morning."
That brought a smile to Jim's face. "It's some outdoor living!" He laughed, digging into his own breakfast. Despite the wild-eyes, McCoy had a very handsome grin that was encouraging. He sipped a glass of orange juice before he dared to suggest something else, "You know, if you could handle the trip... we could just keep going west, ya know. ...past Denver."
McCoy's face went from casual to curious. "What do you mean, keep going west?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard Jim correctly.
"You know..." Slipped in a mouthful of french toast, chewed, swallowed. "Out west. Like, California."
McCoy watched Jim carefully. "I thought we decided I was unsuited for that particular lifestyle." Every once in a while McCoy actually sounded like the educated person he was supposed to be.
Jim shrugged a little. "Except the world needs a genius doctor who might be able to save people from living shitty lives," he felt obligated to point out.
"Jesus, genius doctor. That ain't me, you know that." All of a sudden the shadows came back and covered McCoy's face. "I don't- look, don't think... I mean-" He closed his eyes and sighed, looking a lot like a man who didn't know what he wanted to say.
"Try... the opposite," Jim leaned on an elbow. "This is a man I listened to talk about some pretty big things, that Starfleet itself asked to come join them. Most people have to work to get into Starfleet."
For a fraction of a second, McCoy looked at Jim like he almost believed him. Almost.
Instead McCoy shook his head. "I'm gonna wash out, I think we both know that. Fucking scared to fly in a shuttle. Can you see me actually getting up there without passing out?" He folded his hands in front of him to keep from tearing at the napkin. "I only said yes 'cause I got nothing else, no where to go. Wife got the house and the kid, half my income for the next fourteen years." He snorted. "Ah hell, I don't know... not like I got anywhere else to go." McCoy looked back up at Jim, unsure, unsettled.
Shit, McCoy had a kid? McCoy was walking, talking, drinking proof about why Jim avoided relationships. They fucked people up in every way possible. Marriage just made that fucking up legal. Jim tried to think of what to say, something that would calm him down. Instead, he just let fly whatever came to his lips, "...least with Starfleet, you could be saving people, even if you can't save yourself."
Even before he finished it, Jim was wincing at how stupid it must have sounded.
"...Maybe." McCoy didn't even seem put out by Jim's words. Hell, maybe they even made sense in that strange place he was in his head. "Maybe, kid-oh hell, I mean Jim." McCoy looked sheepish. "Sorry 'bout that 'kid' business, another bad habit of mine." He finished his coffee in silence, thinking. By the time Jim was done eating, McCoy looked like he'd made up his mind. "Give me a minute to talk to someone, okay?" the doctor asked, standing and heading outside the diner. Jim wondered who that someone was as he dug back into his breakfast.
A few minutes later McCoy returned, pocketing his communicator. "Okay, I told 'em I had a family emergency and missed the shuttle. They said I could arrive anytime before classes begin, which is in three days and I'll be okay." McCoy looked different now, like there was something happening inside him. "You sure?"
"Three days..." Jim closed his eyes, trying to picture a map in his head. His next words were cautious. "Can you actually drive a cycle?"
McCoy rolled his eyes at him. "Yeah, Jim, I can drive a cycle. Look, if you don't wanna, that's fine, I'll figure another way there-"
So Jim rolled his eyes right back, "I was asking because its a long goddamn way to San Francisco. We can make it in three days if we both drive, but it'll be tight. I offered, didn't I? I don't offer what I don't mean to offer."
Then McCoy looked at him, eyes boring inside him as if he were searching for something, some motivation, some reason why this guy was offering to be nice to him like this. "Yeah, I can drive a cycle, Jim," his tone had changed from sarcastic to something more gentle, "and I appreciate the offer, if it's still on the table."
Those eyes... they were piercing when they wanted to be. It didn't stop him, though. "It is." Jim offered his hand, in agreement. "You help drive, I'll make sure we get there in three days."
The hand was accepted. "It's a deal. Thanks, Jim."
When the check came, McCoy paid it, then stared ruefully at his card. "I don't get paid next until I sign my paperwork at the Academy. This," he shook the card, "is gonna have to last three days, and there's not much left on it. Can probably swing a hotel room tonight."
Jim shook his head, "...Mc--" he stopped, then shook his head again. "Leonard." ..No. "Len? Leo? Lenny?"
McCoy laughed, loud this time. "Been called them all, Jim, and worse. Take your pick."
Jim met those dark eyes, studying him. "Len, for now." Until he figured out what suited the doctor best. "I don't normally sleep indoors. I'm fine staying outside. Makes the money stretch longer. I'd rather some real food every night than a bed."
"We can do that," McCoy told him, standing. "Let's get some food and stuff for later, in case we don't find anything better. You got an idea how to get there?" he asked.
"Things that won't go bad, or in cans. Can't carry too much... I have a bag I can keep on my back, and a little room in the saddle bags, but not much. Good time of year to travel, if we stick to the back roads we'll keep finding farmer's fields until we hit towards Nevada. Getting over the Rockies... that's never any fun." He knew a few ways to go, but all of them meant traffic.
"You're in charge then," McCoy replied, a teasing note to his voice as they left. An hour later, they were ready, having stopped off at a store to get supplies for two for the rest of the day and fueled up the cycle. They looked at a map, and McCoy seemed at least comfortable that Jim knew where he was going. Once Jim had his way settled, he stopped just beside the cycle.
Jim smirked, "You'll drive first. Prove to me you can do it." He gestured to the cycle, like an attendant for a limo.
McCoy took a deep breath, like he wanted to say something really sarcastic, but instead straddled the cycle and turned it on. "Anytime you're ready," he said, looking back at the small seat behind him.
"I'm always ready, baby," Jim said in a low tone followed by a laugh as he climbed on behind McCoy. It was... weird in every sense. He never let anyone else drive his cycle, had never ridden passenger. McCoy didn't need to know that though. He just settled himself where it felt comfortable, then nodded. "Let's go."
It took McCoy a few minutes to get completely situated, but he seemed comfortable enough after a while as they headed west on the road Jim recommended. It was another warm day, but the sun was behind them as they rode and almost overhead when they hit the Colorado border. "Cheap lunch in the next town?" McCoy asked Jim, turning his head back toward the man behind him.
"Mm?" Jim sounded almost like he was just waking up. "Anything you want." Something about lunch, he had heard. Then he blinked and looked at McCoy again. Did I fall asleep? No. Not on a cycle... just drowsy. Lunch? But they just ate... he just would order something small. He really didn't need to bother until dinner, but apparently McCoy was used to eating more regularly. A little driving around found them a hole-in-the-wall burger place where they split something cheap, and walked around a few minutes afterwards to stretch their legs before heading back west on the bike.
Eventually, they traded off. Jim took over, feeling comfortable despite the longer drive with the weight of McCoy against his back. He let the cycle open up on the road, fast as he dared to make the greatest distance they could. It was late, about ten o'clock, when they finally stopped for the night in some small town in Colorado that Jim didn't even bother to name. Small towns were all alike. All that mattered was that this particular town, like most of them, had a bar. That was where he pulled up, turning off the engine.
McCoy clapped Jim on the back. "I like the way you think," he said, stretching his arms in the air. "First round's on me." It was like any other small bar in a small town - dingy and dark, old music droning out of the speakers on the walls, the lingering smell of smoke and beer in the air. People pressed against each other in hopes of finding something special. They found a couple seats at the bar, and McCoy ordered a couple beers, handing one to Jim. "To new friends," he said, raising his bottle a few inches before taking a long swig.
That was something he could drink to. "New friends," Jim echoed, drinking most of the glass in a shot. Felt like the best thing in the world after a long day in the heat and dust. He just leaned on the bar and closed his eyes, listening and letting his eyes rest after the long day. It was the short time when the world felt simple and right, where his muscles stretched out and cooled down and so did his mind.
The second beer went down ever smoother, and it wasn't long before they were on their third, McCoy ordering them one after another. "How come you left home so young?" he asked, proving he had been listening when Jim was talking about himself the day before, even if it didn't look like he was paying attention. McCoy seemed to do that a lot.
"Didn't have a choice. Step-dad kicked me out." Easier to let McCoy believe that. Partial truth.
"Fuck," was McCoy's emphatic reply. "So, you gonna stay in California, you think?"
Jim could only shrug to that. "I don't make plans ahead of time. If I find something there to do, I'll stay until I want to leave again. Maybe head south, towards Mexico."
McCoy nodded. "Sounds warm there." He fell silent after that, just letting the weariness of the day roll off him.
"...You mentioned a kid. What's his name?" Jim asked, hitching the edge of his shoe against the rail of the bar. The conversation was easier, the beer making everything relaxed and fluid. Maybe he could even keep his foot out of his mouth.
Gripping the bottle a little tighter, McCoy looked at the liquid for a moment. "Joanna. Her name's Joanna." A little smile flit across his face. "She's four." He looked back up at Jim, and for a moment looked like a completely different person.
"Yea? She look like her Daddy?" He tried to envision a kid named Joanna. Just from the tone in McCoy's voice, it wasn't hard to pick out that she was absolutely adored, that little girl. Only four...
McCoy shrugged, but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "A little," he told Jim, meaning yes, she did. "She lives with her mom."
"Got a picture of her?" Now Jim was definitely curious.
McCoy pulled out the datapad from his pocket, and began scrolling through files. "Here she is," he said, holding out a photo of a little girl with long curls sitting on a floor holding a cat in her arms. The smile on her face was infectious, and McCoy couldn't help the grin despite the sadness in his eyes.
Jim studied the picture, glancing between it and the doctor beside him. "Shit, she looks just like you. Liar." It was a tease, but an honest compliment. "She's beautiful, no wonder you're so damn proud of her. Bet she misses her Dad... like he misses her."
A deep sigh out of McCoy, about as emotional as he was going to let himself get here. "Well, she's where she needs to be right now." It didn't look like he was entirely resigned to that idea, but what else could he do. "What about you, Jimmy?" McCoy asked, looking once more at the picture and putting it in his pocket as he finished his beer. "You got any family?"
That earned McCoy a snort. "Jim." Damn, he hated Jimmy with a passion, reminding him of Frank. The second question he answered what he believed, "Not anymore. Gone, or dead. Just me, myself, and I." And that was how he preferred it. Less pain, in the end.
"Jim," McCoy repeated. "Well, I guess I can sort of relate, a little. Just me now." He looked at Jim and gave him a little grin. "Guess we got each other," he joked, waving at the bartender for another beer. Jim blinked at the statement, not sure what to make it of. He only let it occupy him for a few seconds before he shrugged it off and grinned, easing off on the beer he had. Looked like he'd be taking the first shift on driving the next morning.
"So, what sorta stuff you do when you travel?" McCoy asked, looking over at Jim, looking relaxed and comfortable at the bar. "What kinda of places you been to?"
Jim thought about the answer before he spoke, choosing some things in the mass of the greater whole. "I pick up odd jobs, here and there, enough to earn me the credits to keep going. Good with electronics, cars, cycles..." He jerked his thumb in the vague direction of the entrance to the bar, "I built that from a scrapped cycle. Places I've been... been anywhere in this country, been a couple of places off planet. Like traveling, seeing new places..." His voice trailed off as he sucked down more of the cold beer.
"Furthest away you ever been?" McCoy asked, taking another long drag of his beer.
"Andoria. Got good money to help haul a bunch of liquor out that way." Jim's grin was wide. "Maybe not the most legal of jobs, but definitely interesting." The partial lie was an easy one, seven years of practice behind it, but Jim never mentioned Tarsus and never would.
"You do what you gotta do," McCoy replied back, not looking too shocked at Jim's words. "Sounds like you got quite a few stories, Jim Kirk. Been to college at all, or just school of life sorta learning?" he asked, not sounding condescending at all - if anything, sounding a little impressed.
"No official college, but I keep up with what I can. Libraries are still free, at least. Otherwise, life's taught me how to do a lot. 'Specially staying alive." Jim stared over the bar, frowning at a glowing light for some bright advertisement. He shook off the feeling that tried to sweep over him and grinned instead. "I've just always had a thing for learning."
McCoy was probably less intoxicated than he looked, despite the long day of traveling and inconsistent meals, and he looked over at Jim like he could tell something was up, but still, he didn't press. Maybe he didn't think he knew Jim well enough, maybe he ultimately just didn't care. Whatever the reason, McCoy just nodded at Jim's words and offered his own small smile in return. "You got a sharp mind on you, and I'm not just sayin' that. You asked good questions last night, real good ones." He finished the rest of that beer in one swig. "You oughta settle down somewhere, go to school, see what happens."
"I'd get restless," That was out first, before Jim even could fully think it out. "Not just making some bullshit excuse," on top of the easier things like not having the money, "Could you imagine someone like me locked down to one place? Same shit day in and out? Sounds like prison to me," Jim rubbed the back of his neck, "know it's not for most people, though."
McCoy looked over at Jim, slightly amused look on his face. "If you say so, Jim," he replied slow. "I guess in the end, its about making yourself happy. If what you're doing makes you happy, then go for it."
Jim gestured with his glass a little, "When I find what makes me happy? I'll comm you." Though, right now, he actually felt pretty happy. Despite his strangeness and mood changes, McCoy made for good company.
"Well, what do you want to do?" McCoy asked. "Perfect world - what is Jim Kirk doing? What would you be doing if you could do anything you wanted?" No idle small talk, McCoy looked genuinely interested, as if he hadn't figured out what made Jim tick, and wanted to know more.
Jim went to answer McCoy, but nothing came out. He looked at nothing, frowning, as he leaned forward to put his chin on his hand. He thought about it in silence, then finally answered, "I don't know." It was quiet, but honest. "Something where I can be free, and traveling. That's all I know."
McCoy gave a little snort. "Sounds like you're the one who should be joining Starfleet." He took a deep breath and exhaled slow. "Where we gonna sleep tonight? You want some food first?"
"...Couldn't. All that... rules. Too many," Jim shook his head unhappily. "Prison, for someone like me."
McCoy looked at him for a long time after that, maybe trying to imagine Jim doing something like that, but - he looked unsure. "C'mon, Jim, let's go eat before I fall asleep here."
"Besides," Jim stood up, tossing some credits to the bar, "...I'm not the kind of person Starfleet wants." They want a hero, not a criminal.
Another sharper glance, but still, McCoy seemed to hold his tongue. They walked across the street to a little restaurant and sat down, eating some poorly made Italian food. Maybe it was the beer in their systems, maybe the talk of their lives, but both men seemed happier to eat quietly, a comfortable silence. It was nearly midnight when they left, the restaurant closing, and McCoy stretched and yawned as he looked back at Jim. "Still wanna try and find a place to camp, or should we grab a cheap room? Think I can swing it, if we keep our supplies for tomorrow."
Jim looked up at the stars above them, and gave a smile. He had a lot to think about tonight. What he had learned of McCoy, the questions the doctor had asked of him. In a perfect world... what would I be doing? In a perfect world, his mother would have stayed. In a perfect world, he would have never ended up on Tarsus IV. He thought about McCoy trying to rub out the kinks from his back in the morning, and made a choice. "If you want a room, we can do that. We have enough supplies."
McCoy couldn't hide the grateful expression on his face. "Thanks, Jim." They were both tired, it was easy to see by the way they ambled over to the cycle, climbed on and sped off in the quiet of the night. They found some place inexpensive (but clean-looking, the doctor insisted), and headed inside, tossing their bags onto the floor. "You wanna shower first?" McCoy asked, taking off his boots with obvious relief.
"Got it first last time, you take it." Jim kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed, closing his eyes. The clean sheets and soft bed felt good against his skin. Maybe he was just too used to the ground, and anything more than that felt like an expensive luxury.
There was no argument from McCoy, who began taking off his clothes on the way to the bathroom. No one could have blamed Jim for watching McCoy's back, hoping for a glimpse of a little more. He was only human, after all. McCoy spent a little longer than he needed too, but eventually he emerged, towel around his waist. "I think I washed half of Nebraska out of my hair," he yawned, starting to dig inside his bag for clothes. "All yours."
It got a chuckle out of Jim before he started to strip down. He was nude before he even hit the bathroom - wasn't like he had anything to hide. Equally, it was easy to quickly pinch one out while he was in the privacy of the shower. Between that and the warm water, he felt relaxed and ready for bed when he came out. Jim dropped the towel to pull on a pair of shorts, something loose and comfortable. Used for working out, sleeping, or anything else that jeans just weren't comfortable for. McCoy was laying on the far side of the bed in a pair of boxers, one leg under the sheets and the other hanging out. He didn't make any sort movement as Jim headed toward the bed.
"You got a preference?" McCoy asked.
Maybe it was just how Jim's mind was wired that an answer fell from his lips before he even thought about the question, "Not really, I'll take anyone as they come provided I can figure out how to do it."
There was no way for McCoy to hide the flush on his face, or the look of -confusion? amusement? interest? - maybe all three, that was all over his face. "I meant, what side of the bed do you want?" he finally answered, leaning back and staring at Jim.
Jim froze in place, actually embarrassed for a second. Great impression to make. He didn't worry about it too long, and just laughed, "Sorry. I really don't care at all." But there had been something in that look. McCoy was a good looking man... Get off that train of thought now Jim.
McCoy just nodded, eyes still locked on Jim. He looked worn out, weary, as if the traveling was finally catching up with him. "Alright then. I'm just gonna..." He rolled over, reaching for the lamp and turning it off on his side. "G'nite," he murmured, rolling onto one side and curling his arms around his pillow.
"Night," Jim said quietly, moving over to get into the bed. He slid under the sheets, stretching out but taking care to keep to his 'side' of the bed. McCoy didn't seem the type to appreciate random touches. In fact, the doctor seemed almost... cut off. Jim wondered if that wall was self built or built by circumstance.
A few moments passed, then a question. "It always like this?" McCoy asked sleepily from his side of the bed.
"Mmm?" The question made no sense, out of context. "Is what always like this?" The room was dark, still, quiet. Jim thought maybe he could hear the slow pull of the breathing of the body beside him, but it could just as easily have been his own.
"The traveling. Moving around on your own." There wasn't fear in his voice, thick with sleep... more like apprehension.
Jim was cautious in his reply only because he didn't know where the questions were leading. "Most of the time. Don't spend more than a month or two in any one place." He stared at the darkness that hid the ceiling, "Never... found any place that felt like I should be staying there. Like... I belonged." Jim frowned at his own statement. It sounded stupid, floating there in the space between him and a near-stranger. There was something about McCoy, maybe that something that made him a good doctor, that made it feel... okay. Okay to say shit like that.
"...Never lived anywhere else before, you know?" McCoy's voice was quiet. "I mean, I went away to college, but when I was done I went back home." A deep sigh, and McCoy cleared his throat. "Guess I screwed that pooch." Jim gave a weak chuckle at the saying. A moment later it was echoed with a bitter chuckle. "Anyway, thanks Jim. For helpin' me. You make it look easy." Being alone.
"Glad to help you," Jim said quietly, but then he smirked. "Someday, listening to them preach about the advances that the great Doctor McCoy made and how many lives he saved, I'll know I got him started." There was a little grunt from McCoy then nothing more, the breathing getting slower and even until only gentle snores could be heard from McCoy's side of the bed.
Jim sighed, letting his eyes close. To him, it sounded like McCoy didn't believe in himself at all. To him, that's what relationships did to people. Made them do stupid things like forget who they were. He hoped that being in Starfleet, learning and getting everything the doctor needed to further his studies, would help heal McCoy. Maybe knowing he was saving lives, getting to see the reality of it, would do that.
Jim fell asleep like that, still thinking about doctors and lives and how they needed each other to survive.
He'd really done it this time. All his sweet talk, even a bribe hadn't been enough to get him out of this. The tight feeling of the cuffs bit into his wrists, made his hands feel numb. The prison was cold, cold enough to send shivers down his spine as they walked. It was a vague, dark figure in front of him with a heavy gait and only the vague feeling of someone being behind him. The someone behind him set off every bad instinct in his body, and he had to resist the urge to turn or growl or glare. They wouldn't allow that.
They shoved him into a cell after undoing his cuffs. No bed, no toilet, nothing - just a thin metal bench, three walls, and bars. A bare lightbulb hung above his head, and the slamming of the door made it sway. The light played through the bars, whiteblackwhiteblackwhiteblack.
Jim sat down, rubbing at his wrists, get some feeling back in his hands. He studied the small cell with its white walls, wondering how many people had been there before him. His eyes closed and he rubbed his palms into them, feeling pressure build. Jim twitched when he felt something in the cell change, something subtle in the air around him, and he lifted his head. Instead of the white wall across the cell, there was now a smudged, dirty wall of stone. It looked scoured by the ages, ill formed and ugly. There was something there, Jim realized, something actually etched into the stone leaving a small light-colored streak. He had to stand and cross the cell to run his thumb across words scored into the stone of the cell. Seven words, written as neat as if they had been typed on the wall, 'I am the captain of my soul.' He recognized it immediately, an old poem from hundreds of years ago. Even as he started to think about that, he saw more words. He moved along the wall, tracking them to their beginning. 'A million worlds may be, with each a god to bless or blast, and steer to destiny.' Below them, though it took him a minute to remember, were the beginning lines of his favorite book as a child - Treasure Island.
As he stared at the stone wall, he realized that there was more than just quotes carved into it. Dates, times, places... names of people. Words he had himself spoken. The words filled the wall top to bottom. There was some sort of pattern... he just needed time to figure it out...
The feeling in the air twisted again. It was a sickening feeling that went straight through his bones. Jim turned in place and sucked in a breath as he realized that the bars were gone and left behind in their place was a fourth wall. It was completely blank, pristine and white. No windows, no bars, nothing. Four solid walls. His breathing starting to pick up as terror overcame him. No way out, trapped. He looked for vents, defects, anything, anything except four impassive walls. He didn't dare scream for help. He didn't need anyone else.
Were the walls getting closer? Jim turned again, feet shuffling against the floor. It was getting colder, and now he could see his breath steaming on the air in front of him. He put out his arms, and held his breath when he realized he could touch a wall on either side of him. They were closing in on him, trapping him further--
"Kirk." A voice, sharp, strong, somehow almost familiar. Jim twisted just in time to see a symbol on the fourth wall, glowing with a bright white light. "Someone's here to bail you out," before Jim could even ask who would do something like that, "Some doctor... Leonard McCoy."
Jim walked forward towards the symbol, and went to trace it with his fingertips. He recognized it from somewhere, the star in the middle...
A door opened before him, and he stepped out of the cell--
Jim gasped as he woke up all at once, heart racing, staring into the darkness around him. He tried to reach out, wanting to feel for the walls that still had to be there, but something was holding him back. Strong arms wrapped around him. "Shhh," a sleepy voice murmured, pulling him close to another warm body. Legs tangled, and a scruffy face nuzzled against Jim's neck, steady, even breathing throughout. McCoy was still asleep, lost in his own dreams, but pulling Jim closer as if he could drag Jim down into dreamland with him. Jim froze against the warmth behind him, eyes wide. He held there in place, feeling his heart against his rib cage, but nothing came of it. Just warm arms, holding him loosely and the strange feeling of slow deep breathing against his skin.
He could feel the faint prickle of McCoy's scruff against his neck, but even despite himself he realized he was starting to relax. It came in degrees, such as the slowing of his heart, the loosening of his muscles in his shoulders, the evening out of his own breathing. Jim was wide awake, able to take in every detail of it. Was McCoy dreaming about someone else, maybe the ex-wife? But he had heard the quiet shhh noise. McCoy had... shit. That meant he had been crying out or moaning or moving in his sleep.
The nightmare was already drifting away, except for some parts that had frozen into still-frames. Jim brought up a hand and smoothed the palm across McCoy's arm, feeling muscle and skin beneath. The solid, real nature of the body against his, a known body that had slept beside him without killing him, paid for his survival in part, even saved his ass in fight... that pulled away the terror that had been a part of the dream.
It let Jim fall back asleep as the sun started to meet the edge of the world.
Authors: salvaged_pride and sullacat
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Summary: In honor of the one year anniversary of the movie, an AU - What if Leonard McCoy had been at the bar that night? Two men, a cycle, and a trip that changes their lives. 5922 words -- Look for future chapters every other day.
<< Chapter 2 | Main Chapter Listing | Chapter 4 >>
Distance Traveled:
The silence mostly continued into the morning. They broke camp together with only an occasional grunt from either of them to get it all packed up and back into the saddle bag on Jim's cycle. Jim caught McCoy wincing from time to time, rubbing at his back as if it bothered him. ...Not used to sleeping on the ground, that's for fucking sure. Least he'll have hotel rooms from now on.
They were back on the road after the sun had started rising, giving a glow against their backs as they chased the remainders of the night towards Denver. They were headed west now, the cycle the only sound but the wind. McCoy offered no words, so Jim just let the silence continue between them and instead turned into his own thoughts.
He wondered if the cause of McCoy's divorce was his drinking, and that was why the man had reacted so harshly to it. Or maybe he just didn't want to admit to his own faults. Jim also wondered if he was really looking as thin as McCoy said. He had always been strong, he had muscle on his form, but... well, maybe he needed a few good meals on his bones. Money was something that came and went, sometimes he didn't have to worry about it and sometimes he ached for even a little bit to get by. It wasn't a great life, not by most definitions, but at least it was a life he had chosen after he had run from Starfleet.
And now, it seemed, Starfleet was finding him no matter how much he tried.
It had been stupid to go to Riverside, where he knew Starfleet had a heavy presence there. It wasn't like anyone would recognize him - James Tiberius Kirk had ceased to exist in the visual minds of people a long time ago until his father was just some glorified hero no one knew anything about and the children he had sired were a myth. Jim preferred it that way. He had a record, both schooling and criminal, but nothing anyone looked twice at. Not dangerous enough to be in jail, and with too much of a criminal history to look at the schooling. He still learned, even kept up with the latest changes the best he could thanks to libraries and the news. Why, he never really questioned why, just the idea that if he didn't keep learning, life got boring and meaningless fast.
The town he found he couldn't have named until they went past a welcome sign on the outskirts of it. North Platte. Some tiny, barely on the map town in Nebraska. Jim pulled up in front of the first place he spotted that looked decent and turned off the cycle.
They went inside and found a table, McCoy ordering his coffee and toast. He was quiet, but clear-eyed, watching everything with a sort of curiosity that Jim hadn't seen before. It almost looked like he might be having fun. "Gonna be a pretty day," McCoy said absently, twisting in his chair to pop his back. "If you find us a grocery store, I'll get you some provisions for later. You know, repay you for the ride. Unless, you know, you just want the money."
Jim made a mental note to offer McCoy a back popping later. The offer to pay him was a nice one, but that wasn't why he was doing this. "Nah, but some supplies would be great." He just couldn't seem to figure out McCoy, who seemed to have mood changes as fast as the weather changed.
"Whatever you want," McCoy told him, giving him a grin. "You know, I can't tell you the last time I slept so hard. Must be the air," he wondered aloud, thanking the wait staff who brought his toast. "I might order more of this, I'm actually hungry this morning."
That brought a smile to Jim's face. "It's some outdoor living!" He laughed, digging into his own breakfast. Despite the wild-eyes, McCoy had a very handsome grin that was encouraging. He sipped a glass of orange juice before he dared to suggest something else, "You know, if you could handle the trip... we could just keep going west, ya know. ...past Denver."
McCoy's face went from casual to curious. "What do you mean, keep going west?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard Jim correctly.
"You know..." Slipped in a mouthful of french toast, chewed, swallowed. "Out west. Like, California."
McCoy watched Jim carefully. "I thought we decided I was unsuited for that particular lifestyle." Every once in a while McCoy actually sounded like the educated person he was supposed to be.
Jim shrugged a little. "Except the world needs a genius doctor who might be able to save people from living shitty lives," he felt obligated to point out.
"Jesus, genius doctor. That ain't me, you know that." All of a sudden the shadows came back and covered McCoy's face. "I don't- look, don't think... I mean-" He closed his eyes and sighed, looking a lot like a man who didn't know what he wanted to say.
"Try... the opposite," Jim leaned on an elbow. "This is a man I listened to talk about some pretty big things, that Starfleet itself asked to come join them. Most people have to work to get into Starfleet."
For a fraction of a second, McCoy looked at Jim like he almost believed him. Almost.
Instead McCoy shook his head. "I'm gonna wash out, I think we both know that. Fucking scared to fly in a shuttle. Can you see me actually getting up there without passing out?" He folded his hands in front of him to keep from tearing at the napkin. "I only said yes 'cause I got nothing else, no where to go. Wife got the house and the kid, half my income for the next fourteen years." He snorted. "Ah hell, I don't know... not like I got anywhere else to go." McCoy looked back up at Jim, unsure, unsettled.
Shit, McCoy had a kid? McCoy was walking, talking, drinking proof about why Jim avoided relationships. They fucked people up in every way possible. Marriage just made that fucking up legal. Jim tried to think of what to say, something that would calm him down. Instead, he just let fly whatever came to his lips, "...least with Starfleet, you could be saving people, even if you can't save yourself."
Even before he finished it, Jim was wincing at how stupid it must have sounded.
"...Maybe." McCoy didn't even seem put out by Jim's words. Hell, maybe they even made sense in that strange place he was in his head. "Maybe, kid-oh hell, I mean Jim." McCoy looked sheepish. "Sorry 'bout that 'kid' business, another bad habit of mine." He finished his coffee in silence, thinking. By the time Jim was done eating, McCoy looked like he'd made up his mind. "Give me a minute to talk to someone, okay?" the doctor asked, standing and heading outside the diner. Jim wondered who that someone was as he dug back into his breakfast.
A few minutes later McCoy returned, pocketing his communicator. "Okay, I told 'em I had a family emergency and missed the shuttle. They said I could arrive anytime before classes begin, which is in three days and I'll be okay." McCoy looked different now, like there was something happening inside him. "You sure?"
"Three days..." Jim closed his eyes, trying to picture a map in his head. His next words were cautious. "Can you actually drive a cycle?"
McCoy rolled his eyes at him. "Yeah, Jim, I can drive a cycle. Look, if you don't wanna, that's fine, I'll figure another way there-"
So Jim rolled his eyes right back, "I was asking because its a long goddamn way to San Francisco. We can make it in three days if we both drive, but it'll be tight. I offered, didn't I? I don't offer what I don't mean to offer."
Then McCoy looked at him, eyes boring inside him as if he were searching for something, some motivation, some reason why this guy was offering to be nice to him like this. "Yeah, I can drive a cycle, Jim," his tone had changed from sarcastic to something more gentle, "and I appreciate the offer, if it's still on the table."
Those eyes... they were piercing when they wanted to be. It didn't stop him, though. "It is." Jim offered his hand, in agreement. "You help drive, I'll make sure we get there in three days."
The hand was accepted. "It's a deal. Thanks, Jim."
When the check came, McCoy paid it, then stared ruefully at his card. "I don't get paid next until I sign my paperwork at the Academy. This," he shook the card, "is gonna have to last three days, and there's not much left on it. Can probably swing a hotel room tonight."
Jim shook his head, "...Mc--" he stopped, then shook his head again. "Leonard." ..No. "Len? Leo? Lenny?"
McCoy laughed, loud this time. "Been called them all, Jim, and worse. Take your pick."
Jim met those dark eyes, studying him. "Len, for now." Until he figured out what suited the doctor best. "I don't normally sleep indoors. I'm fine staying outside. Makes the money stretch longer. I'd rather some real food every night than a bed."
"We can do that," McCoy told him, standing. "Let's get some food and stuff for later, in case we don't find anything better. You got an idea how to get there?" he asked.
"Things that won't go bad, or in cans. Can't carry too much... I have a bag I can keep on my back, and a little room in the saddle bags, but not much. Good time of year to travel, if we stick to the back roads we'll keep finding farmer's fields until we hit towards Nevada. Getting over the Rockies... that's never any fun." He knew a few ways to go, but all of them meant traffic.
"You're in charge then," McCoy replied, a teasing note to his voice as they left. An hour later, they were ready, having stopped off at a store to get supplies for two for the rest of the day and fueled up the cycle. They looked at a map, and McCoy seemed at least comfortable that Jim knew where he was going. Once Jim had his way settled, he stopped just beside the cycle.
Jim smirked, "You'll drive first. Prove to me you can do it." He gestured to the cycle, like an attendant for a limo.
McCoy took a deep breath, like he wanted to say something really sarcastic, but instead straddled the cycle and turned it on. "Anytime you're ready," he said, looking back at the small seat behind him.
"I'm always ready, baby," Jim said in a low tone followed by a laugh as he climbed on behind McCoy. It was... weird in every sense. He never let anyone else drive his cycle, had never ridden passenger. McCoy didn't need to know that though. He just settled himself where it felt comfortable, then nodded. "Let's go."
It took McCoy a few minutes to get completely situated, but he seemed comfortable enough after a while as they headed west on the road Jim recommended. It was another warm day, but the sun was behind them as they rode and almost overhead when they hit the Colorado border. "Cheap lunch in the next town?" McCoy asked Jim, turning his head back toward the man behind him.
"Mm?" Jim sounded almost like he was just waking up. "Anything you want." Something about lunch, he had heard. Then he blinked and looked at McCoy again. Did I fall asleep? No. Not on a cycle... just drowsy. Lunch? But they just ate... he just would order something small. He really didn't need to bother until dinner, but apparently McCoy was used to eating more regularly. A little driving around found them a hole-in-the-wall burger place where they split something cheap, and walked around a few minutes afterwards to stretch their legs before heading back west on the bike.
Eventually, they traded off. Jim took over, feeling comfortable despite the longer drive with the weight of McCoy against his back. He let the cycle open up on the road, fast as he dared to make the greatest distance they could. It was late, about ten o'clock, when they finally stopped for the night in some small town in Colorado that Jim didn't even bother to name. Small towns were all alike. All that mattered was that this particular town, like most of them, had a bar. That was where he pulled up, turning off the engine.
McCoy clapped Jim on the back. "I like the way you think," he said, stretching his arms in the air. "First round's on me." It was like any other small bar in a small town - dingy and dark, old music droning out of the speakers on the walls, the lingering smell of smoke and beer in the air. People pressed against each other in hopes of finding something special. They found a couple seats at the bar, and McCoy ordered a couple beers, handing one to Jim. "To new friends," he said, raising his bottle a few inches before taking a long swig.
That was something he could drink to. "New friends," Jim echoed, drinking most of the glass in a shot. Felt like the best thing in the world after a long day in the heat and dust. He just leaned on the bar and closed his eyes, listening and letting his eyes rest after the long day. It was the short time when the world felt simple and right, where his muscles stretched out and cooled down and so did his mind.
The second beer went down ever smoother, and it wasn't long before they were on their third, McCoy ordering them one after another. "How come you left home so young?" he asked, proving he had been listening when Jim was talking about himself the day before, even if it didn't look like he was paying attention. McCoy seemed to do that a lot.
"Didn't have a choice. Step-dad kicked me out." Easier to let McCoy believe that. Partial truth.
"Fuck," was McCoy's emphatic reply. "So, you gonna stay in California, you think?"
Jim could only shrug to that. "I don't make plans ahead of time. If I find something there to do, I'll stay until I want to leave again. Maybe head south, towards Mexico."
McCoy nodded. "Sounds warm there." He fell silent after that, just letting the weariness of the day roll off him.
"...You mentioned a kid. What's his name?" Jim asked, hitching the edge of his shoe against the rail of the bar. The conversation was easier, the beer making everything relaxed and fluid. Maybe he could even keep his foot out of his mouth.
Gripping the bottle a little tighter, McCoy looked at the liquid for a moment. "Joanna. Her name's Joanna." A little smile flit across his face. "She's four." He looked back up at Jim, and for a moment looked like a completely different person.
"Yea? She look like her Daddy?" He tried to envision a kid named Joanna. Just from the tone in McCoy's voice, it wasn't hard to pick out that she was absolutely adored, that little girl. Only four...
McCoy shrugged, but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "A little," he told Jim, meaning yes, she did. "She lives with her mom."
"Got a picture of her?" Now Jim was definitely curious.
McCoy pulled out the datapad from his pocket, and began scrolling through files. "Here she is," he said, holding out a photo of a little girl with long curls sitting on a floor holding a cat in her arms. The smile on her face was infectious, and McCoy couldn't help the grin despite the sadness in his eyes.
Jim studied the picture, glancing between it and the doctor beside him. "Shit, she looks just like you. Liar." It was a tease, but an honest compliment. "She's beautiful, no wonder you're so damn proud of her. Bet she misses her Dad... like he misses her."
A deep sigh out of McCoy, about as emotional as he was going to let himself get here. "Well, she's where she needs to be right now." It didn't look like he was entirely resigned to that idea, but what else could he do. "What about you, Jimmy?" McCoy asked, looking once more at the picture and putting it in his pocket as he finished his beer. "You got any family?"
That earned McCoy a snort. "Jim." Damn, he hated Jimmy with a passion, reminding him of Frank. The second question he answered what he believed, "Not anymore. Gone, or dead. Just me, myself, and I." And that was how he preferred it. Less pain, in the end.
"Jim," McCoy repeated. "Well, I guess I can sort of relate, a little. Just me now." He looked at Jim and gave him a little grin. "Guess we got each other," he joked, waving at the bartender for another beer. Jim blinked at the statement, not sure what to make it of. He only let it occupy him for a few seconds before he shrugged it off and grinned, easing off on the beer he had. Looked like he'd be taking the first shift on driving the next morning.
"So, what sorta stuff you do when you travel?" McCoy asked, looking over at Jim, looking relaxed and comfortable at the bar. "What kinda of places you been to?"
Jim thought about the answer before he spoke, choosing some things in the mass of the greater whole. "I pick up odd jobs, here and there, enough to earn me the credits to keep going. Good with electronics, cars, cycles..." He jerked his thumb in the vague direction of the entrance to the bar, "I built that from a scrapped cycle. Places I've been... been anywhere in this country, been a couple of places off planet. Like traveling, seeing new places..." His voice trailed off as he sucked down more of the cold beer.
"Furthest away you ever been?" McCoy asked, taking another long drag of his beer.
"Andoria. Got good money to help haul a bunch of liquor out that way." Jim's grin was wide. "Maybe not the most legal of jobs, but definitely interesting." The partial lie was an easy one, seven years of practice behind it, but Jim never mentioned Tarsus and never would.
"You do what you gotta do," McCoy replied back, not looking too shocked at Jim's words. "Sounds like you got quite a few stories, Jim Kirk. Been to college at all, or just school of life sorta learning?" he asked, not sounding condescending at all - if anything, sounding a little impressed.
"No official college, but I keep up with what I can. Libraries are still free, at least. Otherwise, life's taught me how to do a lot. 'Specially staying alive." Jim stared over the bar, frowning at a glowing light for some bright advertisement. He shook off the feeling that tried to sweep over him and grinned instead. "I've just always had a thing for learning."
McCoy was probably less intoxicated than he looked, despite the long day of traveling and inconsistent meals, and he looked over at Jim like he could tell something was up, but still, he didn't press. Maybe he didn't think he knew Jim well enough, maybe he ultimately just didn't care. Whatever the reason, McCoy just nodded at Jim's words and offered his own small smile in return. "You got a sharp mind on you, and I'm not just sayin' that. You asked good questions last night, real good ones." He finished the rest of that beer in one swig. "You oughta settle down somewhere, go to school, see what happens."
"I'd get restless," That was out first, before Jim even could fully think it out. "Not just making some bullshit excuse," on top of the easier things like not having the money, "Could you imagine someone like me locked down to one place? Same shit day in and out? Sounds like prison to me," Jim rubbed the back of his neck, "know it's not for most people, though."
McCoy looked over at Jim, slightly amused look on his face. "If you say so, Jim," he replied slow. "I guess in the end, its about making yourself happy. If what you're doing makes you happy, then go for it."
Jim gestured with his glass a little, "When I find what makes me happy? I'll comm you." Though, right now, he actually felt pretty happy. Despite his strangeness and mood changes, McCoy made for good company.
"Well, what do you want to do?" McCoy asked. "Perfect world - what is Jim Kirk doing? What would you be doing if you could do anything you wanted?" No idle small talk, McCoy looked genuinely interested, as if he hadn't figured out what made Jim tick, and wanted to know more.
Jim went to answer McCoy, but nothing came out. He looked at nothing, frowning, as he leaned forward to put his chin on his hand. He thought about it in silence, then finally answered, "I don't know." It was quiet, but honest. "Something where I can be free, and traveling. That's all I know."
McCoy gave a little snort. "Sounds like you're the one who should be joining Starfleet." He took a deep breath and exhaled slow. "Where we gonna sleep tonight? You want some food first?"
"...Couldn't. All that... rules. Too many," Jim shook his head unhappily. "Prison, for someone like me."
McCoy looked at him for a long time after that, maybe trying to imagine Jim doing something like that, but - he looked unsure. "C'mon, Jim, let's go eat before I fall asleep here."
"Besides," Jim stood up, tossing some credits to the bar, "...I'm not the kind of person Starfleet wants." They want a hero, not a criminal.
Another sharper glance, but still, McCoy seemed to hold his tongue. They walked across the street to a little restaurant and sat down, eating some poorly made Italian food. Maybe it was the beer in their systems, maybe the talk of their lives, but both men seemed happier to eat quietly, a comfortable silence. It was nearly midnight when they left, the restaurant closing, and McCoy stretched and yawned as he looked back at Jim. "Still wanna try and find a place to camp, or should we grab a cheap room? Think I can swing it, if we keep our supplies for tomorrow."
Jim looked up at the stars above them, and gave a smile. He had a lot to think about tonight. What he had learned of McCoy, the questions the doctor had asked of him. In a perfect world... what would I be doing? In a perfect world, his mother would have stayed. In a perfect world, he would have never ended up on Tarsus IV. He thought about McCoy trying to rub out the kinks from his back in the morning, and made a choice. "If you want a room, we can do that. We have enough supplies."
McCoy couldn't hide the grateful expression on his face. "Thanks, Jim." They were both tired, it was easy to see by the way they ambled over to the cycle, climbed on and sped off in the quiet of the night. They found some place inexpensive (but clean-looking, the doctor insisted), and headed inside, tossing their bags onto the floor. "You wanna shower first?" McCoy asked, taking off his boots with obvious relief.
"Got it first last time, you take it." Jim kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed, closing his eyes. The clean sheets and soft bed felt good against his skin. Maybe he was just too used to the ground, and anything more than that felt like an expensive luxury.
There was no argument from McCoy, who began taking off his clothes on the way to the bathroom. No one could have blamed Jim for watching McCoy's back, hoping for a glimpse of a little more. He was only human, after all. McCoy spent a little longer than he needed too, but eventually he emerged, towel around his waist. "I think I washed half of Nebraska out of my hair," he yawned, starting to dig inside his bag for clothes. "All yours."
It got a chuckle out of Jim before he started to strip down. He was nude before he even hit the bathroom - wasn't like he had anything to hide. Equally, it was easy to quickly pinch one out while he was in the privacy of the shower. Between that and the warm water, he felt relaxed and ready for bed when he came out. Jim dropped the towel to pull on a pair of shorts, something loose and comfortable. Used for working out, sleeping, or anything else that jeans just weren't comfortable for. McCoy was laying on the far side of the bed in a pair of boxers, one leg under the sheets and the other hanging out. He didn't make any sort movement as Jim headed toward the bed.
"You got a preference?" McCoy asked.
Maybe it was just how Jim's mind was wired that an answer fell from his lips before he even thought about the question, "Not really, I'll take anyone as they come provided I can figure out how to do it."
There was no way for McCoy to hide the flush on his face, or the look of -confusion? amusement? interest? - maybe all three, that was all over his face. "I meant, what side of the bed do you want?" he finally answered, leaning back and staring at Jim.
Jim froze in place, actually embarrassed for a second. Great impression to make. He didn't worry about it too long, and just laughed, "Sorry. I really don't care at all." But there had been something in that look. McCoy was a good looking man... Get off that train of thought now Jim.
McCoy just nodded, eyes still locked on Jim. He looked worn out, weary, as if the traveling was finally catching up with him. "Alright then. I'm just gonna..." He rolled over, reaching for the lamp and turning it off on his side. "G'nite," he murmured, rolling onto one side and curling his arms around his pillow.
"Night," Jim said quietly, moving over to get into the bed. He slid under the sheets, stretching out but taking care to keep to his 'side' of the bed. McCoy didn't seem the type to appreciate random touches. In fact, the doctor seemed almost... cut off. Jim wondered if that wall was self built or built by circumstance.
A few moments passed, then a question. "It always like this?" McCoy asked sleepily from his side of the bed.
"Mmm?" The question made no sense, out of context. "Is what always like this?" The room was dark, still, quiet. Jim thought maybe he could hear the slow pull of the breathing of the body beside him, but it could just as easily have been his own.
"The traveling. Moving around on your own." There wasn't fear in his voice, thick with sleep... more like apprehension.
Jim was cautious in his reply only because he didn't know where the questions were leading. "Most of the time. Don't spend more than a month or two in any one place." He stared at the darkness that hid the ceiling, "Never... found any place that felt like I should be staying there. Like... I belonged." Jim frowned at his own statement. It sounded stupid, floating there in the space between him and a near-stranger. There was something about McCoy, maybe that something that made him a good doctor, that made it feel... okay. Okay to say shit like that.
"...Never lived anywhere else before, you know?" McCoy's voice was quiet. "I mean, I went away to college, but when I was done I went back home." A deep sigh, and McCoy cleared his throat. "Guess I screwed that pooch." Jim gave a weak chuckle at the saying. A moment later it was echoed with a bitter chuckle. "Anyway, thanks Jim. For helpin' me. You make it look easy." Being alone.
"Glad to help you," Jim said quietly, but then he smirked. "Someday, listening to them preach about the advances that the great Doctor McCoy made and how many lives he saved, I'll know I got him started." There was a little grunt from McCoy then nothing more, the breathing getting slower and even until only gentle snores could be heard from McCoy's side of the bed.
Jim sighed, letting his eyes close. To him, it sounded like McCoy didn't believe in himself at all. To him, that's what relationships did to people. Made them do stupid things like forget who they were. He hoped that being in Starfleet, learning and getting everything the doctor needed to further his studies, would help heal McCoy. Maybe knowing he was saving lives, getting to see the reality of it, would do that.
Jim fell asleep like that, still thinking about doctors and lives and how they needed each other to survive.
He'd really done it this time. All his sweet talk, even a bribe hadn't been enough to get him out of this. The tight feeling of the cuffs bit into his wrists, made his hands feel numb. The prison was cold, cold enough to send shivers down his spine as they walked. It was a vague, dark figure in front of him with a heavy gait and only the vague feeling of someone being behind him. The someone behind him set off every bad instinct in his body, and he had to resist the urge to turn or growl or glare. They wouldn't allow that.
They shoved him into a cell after undoing his cuffs. No bed, no toilet, nothing - just a thin metal bench, three walls, and bars. A bare lightbulb hung above his head, and the slamming of the door made it sway. The light played through the bars, whiteblackwhiteblackwhiteblack.
Jim sat down, rubbing at his wrists, get some feeling back in his hands. He studied the small cell with its white walls, wondering how many people had been there before him. His eyes closed and he rubbed his palms into them, feeling pressure build. Jim twitched when he felt something in the cell change, something subtle in the air around him, and he lifted his head. Instead of the white wall across the cell, there was now a smudged, dirty wall of stone. It looked scoured by the ages, ill formed and ugly. There was something there, Jim realized, something actually etched into the stone leaving a small light-colored streak. He had to stand and cross the cell to run his thumb across words scored into the stone of the cell. Seven words, written as neat as if they had been typed on the wall, 'I am the captain of my soul.' He recognized it immediately, an old poem from hundreds of years ago. Even as he started to think about that, he saw more words. He moved along the wall, tracking them to their beginning. 'A million worlds may be, with each a god to bless or blast, and steer to destiny.' Below them, though it took him a minute to remember, were the beginning lines of his favorite book as a child - Treasure Island.
As he stared at the stone wall, he realized that there was more than just quotes carved into it. Dates, times, places... names of people. Words he had himself spoken. The words filled the wall top to bottom. There was some sort of pattern... he just needed time to figure it out...
The feeling in the air twisted again. It was a sickening feeling that went straight through his bones. Jim turned in place and sucked in a breath as he realized that the bars were gone and left behind in their place was a fourth wall. It was completely blank, pristine and white. No windows, no bars, nothing. Four solid walls. His breathing starting to pick up as terror overcame him. No way out, trapped. He looked for vents, defects, anything, anything except four impassive walls. He didn't dare scream for help. He didn't need anyone else.
Were the walls getting closer? Jim turned again, feet shuffling against the floor. It was getting colder, and now he could see his breath steaming on the air in front of him. He put out his arms, and held his breath when he realized he could touch a wall on either side of him. They were closing in on him, trapping him further--
"Kirk." A voice, sharp, strong, somehow almost familiar. Jim twisted just in time to see a symbol on the fourth wall, glowing with a bright white light. "Someone's here to bail you out," before Jim could even ask who would do something like that, "Some doctor... Leonard McCoy."
Jim walked forward towards the symbol, and went to trace it with his fingertips. He recognized it from somewhere, the star in the middle...
A door opened before him, and he stepped out of the cell--
Jim gasped as he woke up all at once, heart racing, staring into the darkness around him. He tried to reach out, wanting to feel for the walls that still had to be there, but something was holding him back. Strong arms wrapped around him. "Shhh," a sleepy voice murmured, pulling him close to another warm body. Legs tangled, and a scruffy face nuzzled against Jim's neck, steady, even breathing throughout. McCoy was still asleep, lost in his own dreams, but pulling Jim closer as if he could drag Jim down into dreamland with him. Jim froze against the warmth behind him, eyes wide. He held there in place, feeling his heart against his rib cage, but nothing came of it. Just warm arms, holding him loosely and the strange feeling of slow deep breathing against his skin.
He could feel the faint prickle of McCoy's scruff against his neck, but even despite himself he realized he was starting to relax. It came in degrees, such as the slowing of his heart, the loosening of his muscles in his shoulders, the evening out of his own breathing. Jim was wide awake, able to take in every detail of it. Was McCoy dreaming about someone else, maybe the ex-wife? But he had heard the quiet shhh noise. McCoy had... shit. That meant he had been crying out or moaning or moving in his sleep.
The nightmare was already drifting away, except for some parts that had frozen into still-frames. Jim brought up a hand and smoothed the palm across McCoy's arm, feeling muscle and skin beneath. The solid, real nature of the body against his, a known body that had slept beside him without killing him, paid for his survival in part, even saved his ass in fight... that pulled away the terror that had been a part of the dream.
It let Jim fall back asleep as the sun started to meet the edge of the world.