A Matter of Time, part 2/10
Title: A Matter of Time part 2/10
warnings angst, romance, underage teen sex, references to miscarriage, implied physical abuse to a minor, some mild violence
Rating: nc-17 throughout
Word Count:this part 6,670 (of 65,700 words)
summary An AU set in the Trek universe which explores a different beginning for Jim and Bones. Leonard McCoy suffers from chrono impairment, a genetic disease which causes him to time travel against his will. When teenage McCoy travels back in time and meets Jim Kirk aged six, in a meadow in Iowa, it is the beginning of a close friendship which will mark both their lives forever. The story tracks Kirk and McCoy’s relationship, McCoy’s search for a cure and Jim’s path to finding himself.
link to ART by anoncomment7
link to fanmix by leighblack
For links to all chapters, go to the Masterpost
Part 2:
Alice:
I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!
2253: Atlanta: Jim is 20, Leonard is 26
Jim
Jim’s been waiting for two hours.
It’s been a while since Jim’s been inside one of these places; Atlanta’s Medical Center is over-cool and even the seats giving off the faint, but all too familiar smell of disinfectant. Add to that the scent of puke, cop cars, piss-strewn alleys and there, Jim thinks wryly, you have a nice, olfactory tapestry representing the ‘tragedy’ of his youth.
By 03:00, he’s used up all the hard as shit crosswords on his comm, and the place is thinning out so, with a slight groan of pain, Jim swings his legs up onto the adjoining bucket seats, stretches as best he can, drapes his leather jacket over his chest, tucks in his arms, and tries to take a nap. But he drifts, the throbbing in his ribs making it hard to get comfortable. Still, the shortness of breath stopped pretty much when he walked through the door, but he’s too sleepy to consider leaving, plus he’s put in two hours of waiting, might as well stick around.
In screensaver mode, he’s looked up each time a doctor’s appeared but it’s never been his turn. So when he hears a drawled, “James T Kirk?” He squints open an eye, almost throws a muscle in his back when he crashes his feet to the floor with a jolt of recognition - shit it’s… Bones!
Rather than run to him, for a second, Jim can’t even nod, taken aback by Bones’ nonchalance. He’s behaving like Jim’s just another patient rolled in after a drunken brawl on a Saturday night - there’s no flicker of recognition on his face, no pleasure at seeing Jim again after all this time, no warmth, only tired, distant irritation. Bones doesn’t even make eye contact, just nods towards a side room.
At first he’s confused, that Bones should blank him - a moment later Jim works it out. Fuck, of course. Bones wouldn’t recognize Jim -they haven’t ‘met’ before, not from Bones’ point of view.
This is a younger version of Bones than the one Jim’s used to, the one who’s jumped back in time to him on countless occasions, taught him so much, been with Jim when it’s counted, loved him.
And that first meeting in the meadow when Jim was a kid and Bones was fourteen - Older Bones maintains he just can’t recall a thing about that jump no matter how many times Jim’s been over the details with him. Older Bones says that he can’t always remember jumps, the memories falling away like dreams no matter how much he tries to cling to details once he returns to his present.
So this Leonard McCoy hasn’t got a fucking clue who Jim is.
For Jim, on the other hand, shit - it’s been two years since Bones has jumped to him in any incarnation. Seeing Bones now, all rumpled and sexy as hell in a white coat, Jim wonders how it was possible to even breathe all this time without him.
Jim feels a prickle of worry and rejection then he pulls himself together, leaps to his feet, catches his jacket and bounces towards Bones who’s looking at him like he’s another miscreant rolled off the streets. Jim plays along, and somehow doesn’t wrap himself around Bones’ rangy form, leaves two paces between them and follows him into the side-room like an imprinted gosling.
Bones gestures tiredly to the bed and Jim climbs up, knee bouncing and throat tight with joy as he watches Bones pick up a PADD and call up his records. Jim waits while Bones scans them.
“There’s nothin’ here for six years? You been off planet, kid?”
Fuck, Bones looks beautiful. His hair’s longer, messy and not one streak of gray in it. He’s still got that mole above his eyebrow, the one he’ll remove in a couple of years, because it changes and Bones doesn’t wanted to take any risks with his health, not the way his gram developed skin cancer.
“Kirk?”
Jim snaps out of it. “Nope, just not needed any medical care, I guess.”
Bones glances at him from under raised eyebrows, but doesn’t prod. Jim squirms at the first eye-contact gifted him. Get a grip.
“Asthma, eczema and … you’re allergic to pretty much everything…”
“Not bee stings,” Jim smirks, enjoying himself suddenly, and he has to hand it to Bones, the way he doesn’t falter despite the apparently random comment Jim’s just lobbed in there.
“And you’re allergic to every damned anti-biotic I got here. I’ll send for something won’t kill you, from the vaults, while I take a look at you.”
A grin splits Jim’s face. Damn, he’d better say something about their having met before soon, Jim thinks, but he’ll have to take it slow - he’s stoked but he doesn’t want to freak this Bones out. Jim’s just another patient to him.
Jim wonders how old Bones is, wondering what that long hair would feel like when he tugs on it - because he totally will. Damn, it’s been too long since they’ve touched and he’s not surprised when his cock sits up and begs in programmed response to that voice.
Jim flicks his tongue across dry lips and removes his shirt eagerly when Bones tells him to. He bides his time, eyes following every movement as Bones runs the tricorder over him.
“We’re a long ways from farmland here, kid. I see you’ve had plenty of breaks in your time, but how’d you get injured tonight?”
Jim shrugs. “Guess I should learn to shut my mouth around guys bigger than me. Not that there’s many of those, doc.” Jim waggles his eyebrows, smirks and allows his legs to flop open some more. Bones tsks at the innuendo and loads his hypo. “How d’you know about me growing up on a farm?”
Bones rolls his eyes. “I learned to read when I was knee high to a grasshopper,” he says, nodding at the PADD, putting it down on the bed then taking up the tricorder. He peers at the readings. “Comes in mighty handy with all these instruments they let me play with.” Deadpan, sarcastic, growly bastard, Jim thinks with intense longing and he holds his balled up shirt over his groin to hide his arousal.
“Nice bedside manner, Bones.” Jim waits for a reaction but nothing. Bones doesn’t seem to register, and while that makes sense, Jim can’t help wincing internally at the ‘rejection’.
“Breaks to the ulna, metatarsals…all before you were fourteen…” Bones mutters, frowns, glances at Jim then mercifully stops when Jim’s smile disappears.
“I was kind of an ‘active’ kid,” Jim mumbles, looking away from Bones for the first time in ten minutes. Older Bones knows all this shit, and Jim shouldn’t feel like it matters that this one is finding out too, still - it’s fucking weird is what it is.
For some minutes, Bones runs the regen over Jim’s ribs in silence and Jim half-closes his eyes, trying not to twitch at the gritty feeling under his skin as it repairs the damage. He suddenly feels sleepy from the pain-killers and the late hour, but forces his eyes to stay open.
He drinks in Bones’ scent, the coffee on his breath when he leans close, the faint smell of shampoo in his hair and Jim keeps his eyes on Bones’ face the whole time until seriously, he just can’t stand it any more, knows he’s gotta say something direct soon, before he fucking bursts with the need to touch Bones.
“So, good news - you’re lucky to have gotten away with severe contusions, fractured ribs and inter-costal strain. Nothin’ worse.”
“Lucky me,” Jim says drily, gripping his shirt in his lap. Damn, he’s gonna have to get down off the bed soon and he really doesn’t want to go.
“Stay out of fights, Kirk - next time you don’t duck you might not be so damned lucky and get a splenic rupture.”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure and do that, Bones. Should I put my shirt on now?” He doesn’t move.
There’s a long moment when Bones stares at him, narrows his eyes and Jim wonders, hopes…
“Do I know you, kid?” Bones finally says, eyebrows one thick line when he frowns, those beautiful, hazel eyes drilling right through him.
Yes!
“What makes you say that…Doctor…McCoy?” Jim makes a show of looking at Leonard’s badge, triumph heating his face.
“First, you seem kind of full of yourself, although something tells me that’s what you’re generally like, so probably doesn’t account for anything. And, second, you keep calling me Bones, which, if I pardon the sheer lack of originality, suggests that even someone who clearly doesn’t respect personal boundaries such as yourself-” Bones suddenly hypos Jim with no gentleness, “-suggests we’ve met before, kid.”
“Ouch! That fucking hurt!” Jim slaps his hand on his neck. Where the hell did he produce the hypo from? A holster? “Well, yeah, we do know each other, seeing as you’re asking, but it’s been a while.” He huffs at the sting, rubs his skin.
Bones stands back, tosses the hypo on the trolley, folds his arms and looks Jim up and down.
Jim stares at his eyebrows, remembers what it was like to lick a stripe across them, remembers the feel of Bones’ tongue in his mouth…fuck.
Jim’s cock throbs and, once again, he feels this compulsion to wrap each limb around Bones, hold him tight, before he’s inevitably whisked away from him. Then he remembers, this Bones won’t disappear. This is his time; Jim’s not with Leonard McCoy from Jim’s future, but the ‘real’ one, the one from the present - for the first time ever.
But Bones, naturally, doesn’t seem to sense this is a momentous occasion. Yet.
“You mind your goddamn language, kid, or I’ll have your ass thrown out of here quicker than a horse takes a fuckin’ dump-“
Bones’ voice is a hiss, but Jim’s got his number. He’s not really mad; Jim can read him. Fuck, he’s known Bones nearly his whole life. Jim hopes the nurses who work with Bones see through the gruff; Jim learned quickly that most of the time it’s an act. Older Bones, his Bones has explained that he needs to keep intense emotion at arm’s length, since stress is one of the triggers to the jumping - else he’d be tripping back and forth through time like a yo-yo.
Jim snorts. Hops off the bed, winces at the twinge in his ribs despite the pain killer and brings his face close to Bones’ tan, ‘angry’ one.
“I’d forgotten how sexy your voice is, with the southern…”
Bones cants his head back, makes room for Jim to put his shirt on, keeps his eyes level with Jim’s face.
“Hey, we’re in Atlanta, we all talk like this here,” Bones glowers.
Jim lets the comment go because, of course, Bones is right, but, Jesus, no one else’s voice in Atlanta could have this same affect on him. He fastens up his shirt very slowly, cocks his head, wonders if Bones notices the way he leaves one too many buttons undone. If he does, it doesn’t stop him grumbling. Jim stares at Bones’ plump lips and doesn’t bother to disguise his longing.
“So you gonna tell me how we know each other? And stop flirting with me - I’m not available.”
Fuck caution, fuck breaking the news to Bones gently…
“This ‘thing’ between you and me, it’s not about ‘available’,” Jim says, his voice trembling. Shit, that was a little intense, maybe.
“What thing? What the hell are you talking about?” Bones shoots a look at Jim, then over his shoulder like he’s checking no one else is in the room when he damn well knows they’re alone.
The dam’s burst now - there’s nothing Jim can do, wants to do, to hold the words from pouring out.
“Even when there are other people, there’s only us. You’re the one told me that when I was just a kid. You don’t remember ‘cause…” Jim scratches his eyebrow while he thinks how to put it. “…well, it hasn’t ‘happened’ yet, sorta… but older you would never forget.” Now Jim has Bones’ undivided attention so he adds the sucker punch. “I know, Bones, I know about the time travelling, I know…”
Jim watches how Bones gapes, frowns as he tries to process what he’s hearing but, it’s the words ‘time travelling’ that seem to hit Bones like a mallet. He glances over his shoulder again, grabs Jim’s arm roughly and hisses, “Shut the fuck up, shut up, okay?”
Of course, Bones doesn’t want to have people over-hear, right.
“Sorry,” Jim says, stepping back, realizing he hasn’t made a great ‘initial’ impression, lowers his voice. “I’m just so fucking happy to see you, it’s…shit, I’ve missed you so bad.”
“When’d’we meet?” Good. Bones is getting it. Only a handful of people are aware of his ‘affliction’ so the fact that Jim even knows about it shows that Bones, the one in the future, must have trusted him - that this Bones can trust him.
“First time? I was just a kid, you were a teenager…back in Iowa, and me and older you have talked about how you don’t remember it. Every other time it’s been you older, older than you are now, I mean.” Jim gulps, hangs onto to Bones’ slightly more relaxed body language; yeah, he’s still wary - makes sense - but looks like he believes him, confusing as it is.
Bones regards Jim with unblinking, dark eyes, his voice raspy when he says:
“Iowa…? Yeah…I don’t, I don’t always remember…And you’re saying we’re a, you know, a…” and Bones flicks a hand back and forth in the space between them frowning.
“Yeah, we are. Will be, I mean.”
Jim watches Bones shake his head. He wants to grab him, say, I’m not gonna let you go again, but when he thinks of Bones trying to finish up his shift, after this big mind-fuck, he thinks better of laying anymore intense shit on him. So Jim fakes calm and says:
“Listen, we should meet. I’ll tell you everything then. What time do you finish? I could buy you breakfast.”
“What with? You look like you haven’t got two credits to your name!”
Ah, there’s that smile, the one that rips Jim’s heart open and, once again he holds back from what every cell in his body seems programmed to do, what he’s wanted and needed since he first set eyes on this crazy fuck, first as a friend and mentor, then more.
“You know something? I have. I have a trust fund - you helped me; I-” Jim starts to say.
“Stop! I don’t wanna- I can’t know about stuff I haven’t done yet - it’s, it’s just too damned weird.”
Yeah, Jim thinks, you haven’t done it yet, but it’s happened already - to me - shit they have a lot to talk about.
“Okay, sorry, I forgot, I’m just so damned pleased to see you. I know this is heavy, and it’s wrong to know what’s gonna happen ahead of time, you always told me that, man. You said it didn’t serve any purpose revealing what’s to come, since none of us can change anything, you said-”
“So stop, stop telling me, Jesus…”
Bones runs a hand through collar length hair. God it looks good on him this length, Jim will have to make sure he can get Bones to keep it like this though he knows, whatever he says, it will make no difference since the Bones he’s met all the times before has always had short hair and now…Jim’s feeling kinda nauseous, must be the pain-killer, plus the fact that he hasn’t eaten for hours now, and he really should get home.
Bones notices, reaches for him and Jim makes a supreme effort to look like he’s fine though he wants nothing more than to feel that familiar warm touch. He forces a smile, shakes his head, and Bones’ hand drops to his side again.
“Okay, I guess we should talk, “Bones says. “Here’s my number. “
He takes Jim’s hand and scribbles on the back of it with a pen. Bones has told Jim he always carries an old style pen, says you never know when you’re stranded without anything else, need to leave a message. Jim’s stomach flips at the sensation of those warm fingers on his wrist burning into his skin with their presence.
“Now go home, Jim-“ Bones voice is a croak. Hearing Bones say his name, gives Jim the boost he needs to put one step in front of the other. “-sleep, give yourself time to heal.” Bones glances back at the nurse who’s just walked in the room and lowers his voice. “I really shouldn’t meet up with a patient, shit…but,” he leans closer, making Jim wonder if he actually can go now, once he feels that puff of warm breath on his face; “comm me when you’re up and we can meet for breakfast, or a beer later or something - though you’re drinking pop, seeing as you’re under age.” Jim wants to bite that warning finger pointing at him.
“You fucking kidding me, man?”
He picks up his jacket and sways slightly before he takes a step towards the door.
“So what happened to ‘Bones’?” And that twitch at the corner of his mouth - that’s a grin Bones is fighting, Jim just knows it.
“Bones was a lot more fun than you, doc,” Jim laughs, zipping up his jacket.
He takes another look at Leonard McCoy, running his eyes up and down that familiar, lanky form, kind of enjoying how Bones glares at him for it. “But I will comm you in the morning, yeah - can’t wait.” Jim glances at the number scrawled on his hand, shoots a look at the nurse, then sighs when he sees Bones’ irritated expression. “Later…”
The door swishes open and Jim can’t resist turning, looking over his shoulder. He licks his lips.
“One more thing, what do you know about four kinds of grass, Bones?”
Bones’ face is a picture now, mouth a large ‘o’ in reaction to something Jim knows his Gram used to say, that maybe Bones has never shared with anyone else. Yeah, there’s no way he won’t meet Jim now.
The last thing Jim hears as he drags himself away is Bones muttering, “Dammit, kid…”
About time.
+++
Leonard
Jim’s comm message comes through at 05:00. Leonard rolls his eyes - he won’t even come off shift until 08:00 but, technically, yeah, it is the morning - Jesus this kid’s pushy.
Moe’s on Highlands. 16:00. Drinks on you.
Peachy. Well, since it’s only gonna be the one drink, why not?
Leonard knocks back his cold, replicated coffee, tosses his comm back in his locker, and heads back to the frontline.
It’s been a long night and he’s barely had a free moment in his head to properly dissect the implications of all this. One thing Leonard’s decided is, much as he’d like to say he recognizes Jim Kirk on some level, he truly doesn’t.
The most bewildering thing of all to Leonard is how in twenty-six years of life, in all those times he’s been visited by an older version of himself, he’s never once mentioned Jim Kirk. And in a way, this is what makes him reply to the comm, agree to meet Jim. If Older Leonard’s not mentioned Jim, the kid must be of significance. Older Leonard’s never let slip anything important about the future, keeping all the ‘good’ stuff under his hat. And it’s even weirder that he should have jumped back to someone multiple times, someone he doesn’t ‘know’. While Leonard’s got no idea why he jumps to any time in the past, he’s always looking for patterns, and while he’s got no control, can’t choose where to go, it’s generally to someone who has significance in his life. So why Jim Kirk?
It would be damned nice for this to be evidence that Leonard’s long held, romantic notions have some basis in reality, that somewhere there’s a soul mate for everyone, but nothing he’s seen of this kid so far can support that. Still, he needs to understand how this cocky kid fits into his life.
And the comment about the grass has been tormenting Leonard off and on for hours. It’s like trying to clutch onto a fragment of a dream or something but the more he ‘looks’, the more understanding slips away - shit, this doesn’t make any kind of sense.
His gram, she used it as a remedy for bee stings, said it soothed the pain away and used it on Leonard once or twice; now, of course, he realizes it was the rubbing itself made a kid feel better, serving as a distraction from the pain, releasing endorphins into the blood stream. Even so, why did Jim mention it at all?
Later, when he’s finally finished his handover to the new shift, thoughts of Jim sitting on the bio-bed, making eyes at him, looking happier than a tick on a fat dog, crowd back.
On the hover-tram home, Leonard replays every moment at leisure, recalls how Jim kept up the sassy attitude, yet let it slip for a second when Leonard mentioned the childhood history, specifically the multiple breaks. For all his ballsy posturing, this kid’s got a lot to hide and Leonard sensed immediately that getting anything more out of him, other than what was in the records, would have been like pulling teeth. Leonard took it all in though, how everything on record related to before Jim was fourteen, how there was nothing on Jim Kirk in the past six years, not even updated dental records despite his shiny, even teeth. Maybe his family went off planet for a while. Even so, there’s been plenty of time for the records to be updated - it doesn’t make sense.
And how the hell did Jim develop all those food allergies in this day and age? Jim shrugged off the eczema Leonard noticed when running the machine over the grazes and contusions on Jim’s knuckles, said sometimes he just had to have a bit of ketchup with his fries.
And Leonard admits he’s a little surprised at how off-hand Jim had been about being in a fight, so blasé about being beaten on. This would indicate he must’ve been involved in more than his fair share of brawls; but in that case, why was there no record of Jim being in an ER in years? And last night, when he hadn’t been so badly injured, why did Jim choose to check himself in? Not for the first time, Leonard contemplates the weird twisted path of his life and the vague notion that another hand is playing a role in his fate, though it goes against everything he wants to believe about free will, cause and effect.
Leonard remembers the link to the psychological profile on Jim’s history, how he didn’t have clearance to access it. Curiouser and curiouser.
Leonard crashes in bed, sets the chrono for five hours later - he’s going to need something like a full quota of sleep if he’s gonna deal with this little dervish and hell, he can always take a nap later. He’s not due back at work till he starts day shift in forty-eight hours. There’s plenty of time.
+++
Jim
Jim can’t sleep he’s so fucking wired.
Bones. “Bones…” he says out loud, hugging himself.
He jerks off twice in the hour after he leaves the hospital, thinking about those beautiful hands on him again, after two whole years. He’d almost given up hope, thought he’d never see Bones, although it’s not what he’s been told in all the time they’ve spent together since he was a kid, but when Bones didn’t come back, and one month rolled into another, he’d begun to despair - life without Bones was just wrong. But Older Bones warned Jim, said there would be at least two occasions when they’d not see each other for years; while refusing to say exactly how long, he said Jim should get on with his life, pretend Bones didn’t exist, not wait, not change what he did. Make his own plans, his own way.
Jim moved to Georgia after eighteen months had passed, looked Leonard McCoy up on the nets, knew he was employed by the Atlanta Metropolitan Health Authority; Bones could be anywhere in the city but he resisted searching further because it went against ‘the rules’.
Bones always said that things will happen, will fall into place and they’d meet again when the time was right. So that’s why Jim found himself in the med centre, even though usually he’d avoid medical treatment like the plague ‘cept when it’s Bones. He vowed to have nothing more to do with doctors when he ‘came back’ from off planet…and Jim shakes that memory away, of the countless intrusions, tests, the scrutiny, real quick… but his ribs really hurt after that fight, and he couldn’t breathe properly and that’s never happened before. See? It was meant; Bones was right - things happen when the times right, Jim tells himself.
So now Jim’s working at a mechanic’s a couple of days a week, rest of the time hustling in pool halls for cash. He only touches the trust fund for rent, nothing else, because that’s what Jim decided he’d do, much as Bones tried to persuade him to use the money to get back into school.
Jim manages to doze off for a while and almost leaps out of bed when he hears the comm buzz. It’s ten after eight - Bones must’ve just come off shift.
Okay
That it? Laconic bastard.
Jim’s pretty sure Bones read the comm a couple of hours ago, only answering now, playing hard to get; he’s the master of that, Jim thinks, remembering the months before their first time, how Bones had held out and held out until - shit, now Jim’s hard again and he jerks off in a hurry, thinking about how gentle Bones had been two years ago, even when Jim pleaded, “harder please, Bones, fuck, harder. I won’t break.”
“Yeah, but I might, kid.”
Fuck.
+++
Leonard
14:10 and Leonard’s in the shower. He’s not taking as much care as he would for a date, because, hell - this isn’t a date. They’re just going to talk. Yet despite needing to know what the hell this is all about, he’s uncomfortable as hell seeing a patient, and while Jim’s not technically his patient anymore, still…
He needs to get his head around this ‘thing’. Needs to know how this kid fits into his life. Way Jim Kirk was talking, sounds like they’ll be more than friends. He remembers how Jim looked at him, flirted dammit - they must have had/will have (fuck this is some crazy shit) a sexual relationship.
It’s been months since Leonard’s had sex - sure, Leonard’s had offers but he’s still smarting from Jocelyn, still not sure about what he wants and one thing Leonard’s learned in the past twenty-six years is, if he thinks with his heart (cock?), he’s not thinking at all. He’s managed to make enough relationship mistakes in that time that he’ll fight shy of the prospect of hooking up with anyone new, let alone a someone so young, let alone a guy, for fuck’s sake.
Leonard stands in front of the bathroom mirror, dripping water all over the floor. Fuck it, he can do as he pleases - Joss isn’t here to bitch him out.
He examines his reflection, wonders what Jim saw when he was gazing so goddamned adoringly at him. People say Leonard’s attractive though he’s not sure he sees it himself. Face is too much like a girl’s he thinks, like a girl with a really unfortunate facial hair problem. He applies beard-suppressor to his jaw with a sigh - this shit doesn’t work; he’ll be Stubble Man within a couple of hours and Jim’ll think he hasn’t made an effort. Wait. Effort? What the fuck, this isn’t a date. He tweezes out an errant eyebrow that’s appeared between his brows overnight - all the advances in science, and many he’ll hopefully be responsible for in the future, and he still looks like a wolf.
Leonard peers at his eyes, tugs at the dark skin under them. He looks old before his time, but, whatever, after what he’s been through it’s not so strange, but yeah, he could be in his mid thirties rather than mid twenties. Jim said Leonard was fourteen the first time they met, and he wonders what the hell brought them together, hates that he can’t remember a thing about it. Maybe it was one of those times he jumped in his sleep…those times he jumps back awake enough but can’t remember a damned thing about where he’s been.
Was it mere chance that he should have found Jim the first time, or was Leonard on one of his futile ‘fix the future’ campaigns? Lord knows there’ve been enough of those. Waste of fucking time.
Jim said it was Iowa. Leonard did go through a period in his late teens when he jumped to Iowa a few times… didn’t make sense…but then, Leonard’s almost given up looking for a pattern, a purpose. Once he ended up at Riverside shipyard - that was hairy - got chased by fucking dogs inside a perimeter fence, one bit his ankle and he jumped out before they could tear him apart, but that’s his strongest memory of Iowa - nothing that even could have been a time he met Jim. He’ll quiz Jim later - probe for details, maybe something will come back to him.
Looking at his eyes, the sludge colored irises, the red rims, leads Leonard to think about the clearness of Jim’s. He can’t shake off the way Jim had looked at him, all wide-eyed and trusting, gabbling, so fucking excited to see him. Leonard shakes his head. They were blue like the sky, reminded him of his Gram - she was the only one in the family without the trademark McCoy hazel irises. She used to joke it was ‘cause she was a witch, so she said when Leonard was a kid and she applied one of her potions to him, rubbing his temple, whispering strange words under her breath to ‘cure’ a bruise or grazed knee.
And Jim unsettled Leonard - ‘cause despite the honesty in Jim’s body-language (yeah, Leonard wasn’t fooled by the kid ‘holding back’ could see him clenching his hands, his knee bouncing, the way his gaze followed Leonard’s every movement) despite the ‘openness’, those baby-blues were impenetrable - he was saying something Leonard couldn’t understand.
Leonard shakes his head, falls back onto the bed naked and contemplates his strange fucking life, which, looks like it was gonna take an even stranger turn in a few hours time and, as ever, he’s powerless to do anything about it.
+++
Jim
15:50 - Jim’s been sitting at the bar over half an hour now. He picked Moe’s ‘cause, although Bones’ll bitch about how it’s ‘tryin’ to be traditional’, in fact it’s just about the only kind of place he’ll tolerate; not too fancy, just beer and pool and bar snacks. Plus there are plenty of dark booths Jim thinks with another surge of lust.
He’s arrived early so he can knock back a couple of shots before Bones turns up and has a chance to lecture him about underage drinking. Again. They’ve been through this before; how Bones isn’t Jim’s dad, shouldn’t act like he is and yeah, things have changed since Jim came back from Tarsus, when Jim managed to get the message through that maybe he’s proven he can look after himself and, “I’ve done fine all these years without some guy telling me how to run my life, alright-?”
But this Bones doesn’t know about anything, doesn’t know about Jim’s history. Jim considers this, plays with the idea that he can start afresh here, if he wants, cover up his delinquency, his promiscuity, his dead-end attitude, his no future, fucked up existence but, but… shit - one thing’s always been true: Bones and him? It’s always been about honesty - neither has ever lied to the other. Sure, Bones hasn’t told him about what’s going to happen - he always said that he couldn’t, wouldn’t do that and that it’s enough Bones says, he has to bear the weight of his ‘impairment’ as he calls it, without adding that to Jim’s life. If people know what’s going to happen to them, it fucks them up.
Yeah, Jim owes it to Bones to just be himself. Bones will find it hard to take in, but Jim knows, a few hours together, when he tells Bones about the times they’ve shared, Bones will get it. Get them.
Holy shit - Bones. He’s got him back.
+++
Leonard
16:15 -“Should’ve brushed your teeth, kid,” Leonard says once they’re sitting on the beat up leather stools and Jim’s pulling faces after his first sip of cola. “You’ve been drinking -- how’d you get served anyway?”
They look at the waitress ogling the pair of them, and exchange looks. Leonard knows Jim doesn’t need to explain. This kid could charm the panties off a nun, probably has and then some. But Leonard’s no nun so when Jim says:
“Can’t I just have a shot of whiskey, brighten my drink up?”
Leonard glowers, says, “Not on my watch,” and shoots Jim his patented ‘that’s the end of this discussion’ look, as Joss always called it.
Jim pouts and suddenly looks his age despite his bravura and swagger. Leonard thinks about how Jim’s only just turned twenty and feels a cold trickle of panic across his shoulders. What the hell does all this mean? Well, he’ll soon find out way this kid can’t shut up talking for more than a second. He almost considers slipping Jim a tranquilizer.
+++
“So, how many times have we met before?”
Jim shrugs. “Dunno, never counted - dozens maybe?”
That many? Holy hell - he’d thought it might have been a handful of times, sure, but dozens… He hasn’t offered any details and Leonard wants to probe, wants to know when, how, why, but how can he when it’s all gonna happen anyway, when knowing just makes everything…
Leonard leans over, suddenly conscious that he’s had one too many. Since the jumping is often triggered by high stress, heavy drinking is one of the few ways Leonard can keep calm in company. Or the elixir his Gram taught him how to make, which they both dubbed the ‘Drink Me’, inspired by Alice in Wonderland which Gram used to read him when he was small. Alcohol and the elixir keep him calm, fix him in the present. Leonard doesn’t always take the Drink Me ‘cause it makes him impotent, makes him cranky, brings on wild dreams on those occasions when he’s dumb enough to drink alcohol with it too.
And, because of the impotence, when he was trying to make a baby, the Drink Me wasn’t conducive to a happy marriage. Then, when Leonard kept time-travelling ‘cause he was so stressed, it was hello Jim Beam, goodbye elixir for a while.
Regular tranquillizers are a nightmare, give him stomach problems, make him too woozy to work, so he avoids them except under extreme circumstances.
Nothing works one hundred percent - Leonard’s only hope is that he can develop a cure in time, something without side-effects. Fuck knows he can’t go on like this much longer.
He’s tried to get information out of his future self enough times, find out if he’s ever cured of his impairment, but the tight-lipped bastard, his Older Self, refuses to give Leonard anything. The most he’s got to hang onto is the miniscule hope that he’ll work something out one day, maybe.
He remembers how he smashed his fist repeatedly into Older Leonard’s face that time, when Older Leonard came back too late in a futile attempt to try and stop his younger self turning off his daddy’s life support. It was a few months later Leonard understood the implications, when he discovered someone had found a cure for pyrrhoneuritis and Older Leonard could have done something, said something, given him that knowledge that would have stopped him killing his, their daddy.
He knows he can’t change the past, yet he keeps trying, like a dumb fly throwing itself against a window over and over.
“Tell me, you fuckin’ bastard, tell me the traveling ends one day,” he’d railed, slamming Older Leonard against the wall again, hot tears falling down both their cheeks, his counterpart bearing a bloodied mouth.
“Jus’ fucking stop, asshole. You know, we can’t change anythin’. Stop.”
Leonard released Older Leonard. “I can’t fucking stand this. There must be some way we can lick this thing. Tell me you’re getting somewhere in your time. I’m fucking begging.”
“Alright…” Older Leonard whispered, “I’ve got a lead, okay. Now go fucking cry for daddy, not yourself - we aren’t worth it.”
And the worst thing? Even though Leonard knows he won’t be able to save his daddy, how the fact that he dies at his son’s hand will always stay in the past, and it can’t be changed. Even so, in years to come, he’ll still jump back, try and intervene, despite inevitable failure. Christ Leonard knows that, knows because he’s seen his future self fail. But he’s gotta try, just like he kept trying to save his cousin David from drowning in the boating accident. He leans his face on his hands and reaches for his glass.
He’s trapped, cursed…Fuck, fuck…
“Bones?”
“Yeah?” Leonard clears his throat, sniffs, and knocks back the next shot.
“Your mind wandering?”
“Yeah, sorry…”
And when the hell did Jim end up sitting so close to him? They’re in a booth, at the back of the bar; they played some pool and Jim beat him every time. Maybe Leonard shouldn’t have said not to hold back on his account - but the kid’s a multi-tasker, that’s for sure. Able to talk incessantly, clear the table, and make eyes constantly at Leonard.
Leonard closes his eyes and opens them again when the image of Older Leonard’s compassionate eyes come back to haunt him.
Leonard’s way beyond buzzed now. Jim’s leg is bouncing against his, an elbow’s pressed against him and shit, now he allows himself to look at Jim, properly, trying to see a person, not a piece of history, or some landmark in his dumb life. Fuck, those are pretty lips and - holy hell, Jim’s rubbing up against him like some tom cat and that tongue… “Jim, I…this isn’t such a good idea.” He unwinds Jim’s arms that have suddenly clung to his neck.
Jim takes the rebuttal with a smile. His eyelids are drooping, he’s panting slightly and he leans in again, right up to his ear. “Don’tcha want me, Bones? We need to make up for lost time…”
Fuck yeah, he does, he really does and, if there’s one thing Leonard’s learned is sometimes you gotta live in the moment, and he needs this, needs to feel present, wants this warmth, this kid - so he grabs the back of Jim’s head, pulls him in for a bruising kiss, and just like that, there’s nothing to talk about other than how the hell they’re gonna get back to his place quick enough.
ON TO PART 3
warnings angst, romance, underage teen sex, references to miscarriage, implied physical abuse to a minor, some mild violence
Rating: nc-17 throughout
Word Count:this part 6,670 (of 65,700 words)
summary An AU set in the Trek universe which explores a different beginning for Jim and Bones. Leonard McCoy suffers from chrono impairment, a genetic disease which causes him to time travel against his will. When teenage McCoy travels back in time and meets Jim Kirk aged six, in a meadow in Iowa, it is the beginning of a close friendship which will mark both their lives forever. The story tracks Kirk and McCoy’s relationship, McCoy’s search for a cure and Jim’s path to finding himself.
link to ART by anoncomment7
link to fanmix by leighblack
For links to all chapters, go to the Masterpost
Part 2:
Alice:
I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!
2253: Atlanta: Jim is 20, Leonard is 26
Jim
Jim’s been waiting for two hours.
It’s been a while since Jim’s been inside one of these places; Atlanta’s Medical Center is over-cool and even the seats giving off the faint, but all too familiar smell of disinfectant. Add to that the scent of puke, cop cars, piss-strewn alleys and there, Jim thinks wryly, you have a nice, olfactory tapestry representing the ‘tragedy’ of his youth.
By 03:00, he’s used up all the hard as shit crosswords on his comm, and the place is thinning out so, with a slight groan of pain, Jim swings his legs up onto the adjoining bucket seats, stretches as best he can, drapes his leather jacket over his chest, tucks in his arms, and tries to take a nap. But he drifts, the throbbing in his ribs making it hard to get comfortable. Still, the shortness of breath stopped pretty much when he walked through the door, but he’s too sleepy to consider leaving, plus he’s put in two hours of waiting, might as well stick around.
In screensaver mode, he’s looked up each time a doctor’s appeared but it’s never been his turn. So when he hears a drawled, “James T Kirk?” He squints open an eye, almost throws a muscle in his back when he crashes his feet to the floor with a jolt of recognition - shit it’s… Bones!
Rather than run to him, for a second, Jim can’t even nod, taken aback by Bones’ nonchalance. He’s behaving like Jim’s just another patient rolled in after a drunken brawl on a Saturday night - there’s no flicker of recognition on his face, no pleasure at seeing Jim again after all this time, no warmth, only tired, distant irritation. Bones doesn’t even make eye contact, just nods towards a side room.
At first he’s confused, that Bones should blank him - a moment later Jim works it out. Fuck, of course. Bones wouldn’t recognize Jim -they haven’t ‘met’ before, not from Bones’ point of view.
This is a younger version of Bones than the one Jim’s used to, the one who’s jumped back in time to him on countless occasions, taught him so much, been with Jim when it’s counted, loved him.
And that first meeting in the meadow when Jim was a kid and Bones was fourteen - Older Bones maintains he just can’t recall a thing about that jump no matter how many times Jim’s been over the details with him. Older Bones says that he can’t always remember jumps, the memories falling away like dreams no matter how much he tries to cling to details once he returns to his present.
So this Leonard McCoy hasn’t got a fucking clue who Jim is.
For Jim, on the other hand, shit - it’s been two years since Bones has jumped to him in any incarnation. Seeing Bones now, all rumpled and sexy as hell in a white coat, Jim wonders how it was possible to even breathe all this time without him.
Jim feels a prickle of worry and rejection then he pulls himself together, leaps to his feet, catches his jacket and bounces towards Bones who’s looking at him like he’s another miscreant rolled off the streets. Jim plays along, and somehow doesn’t wrap himself around Bones’ rangy form, leaves two paces between them and follows him into the side-room like an imprinted gosling.
Bones gestures tiredly to the bed and Jim climbs up, knee bouncing and throat tight with joy as he watches Bones pick up a PADD and call up his records. Jim waits while Bones scans them.
“There’s nothin’ here for six years? You been off planet, kid?”
Fuck, Bones looks beautiful. His hair’s longer, messy and not one streak of gray in it. He’s still got that mole above his eyebrow, the one he’ll remove in a couple of years, because it changes and Bones doesn’t wanted to take any risks with his health, not the way his gram developed skin cancer.
“Kirk?”
Jim snaps out of it. “Nope, just not needed any medical care, I guess.”
Bones glances at him from under raised eyebrows, but doesn’t prod. Jim squirms at the first eye-contact gifted him. Get a grip.
“Asthma, eczema and … you’re allergic to pretty much everything…”
“Not bee stings,” Jim smirks, enjoying himself suddenly, and he has to hand it to Bones, the way he doesn’t falter despite the apparently random comment Jim’s just lobbed in there.
“And you’re allergic to every damned anti-biotic I got here. I’ll send for something won’t kill you, from the vaults, while I take a look at you.”
A grin splits Jim’s face. Damn, he’d better say something about their having met before soon, Jim thinks, but he’ll have to take it slow - he’s stoked but he doesn’t want to freak this Bones out. Jim’s just another patient to him.
Jim wonders how old Bones is, wondering what that long hair would feel like when he tugs on it - because he totally will. Damn, it’s been too long since they’ve touched and he’s not surprised when his cock sits up and begs in programmed response to that voice.
Jim flicks his tongue across dry lips and removes his shirt eagerly when Bones tells him to. He bides his time, eyes following every movement as Bones runs the tricorder over him.
“We’re a long ways from farmland here, kid. I see you’ve had plenty of breaks in your time, but how’d you get injured tonight?”
Jim shrugs. “Guess I should learn to shut my mouth around guys bigger than me. Not that there’s many of those, doc.” Jim waggles his eyebrows, smirks and allows his legs to flop open some more. Bones tsks at the innuendo and loads his hypo. “How d’you know about me growing up on a farm?”
Bones rolls his eyes. “I learned to read when I was knee high to a grasshopper,” he says, nodding at the PADD, putting it down on the bed then taking up the tricorder. He peers at the readings. “Comes in mighty handy with all these instruments they let me play with.” Deadpan, sarcastic, growly bastard, Jim thinks with intense longing and he holds his balled up shirt over his groin to hide his arousal.
“Nice bedside manner, Bones.” Jim waits for a reaction but nothing. Bones doesn’t seem to register, and while that makes sense, Jim can’t help wincing internally at the ‘rejection’.
“Breaks to the ulna, metatarsals…all before you were fourteen…” Bones mutters, frowns, glances at Jim then mercifully stops when Jim’s smile disappears.
“I was kind of an ‘active’ kid,” Jim mumbles, looking away from Bones for the first time in ten minutes. Older Bones knows all this shit, and Jim shouldn’t feel like it matters that this one is finding out too, still - it’s fucking weird is what it is.
For some minutes, Bones runs the regen over Jim’s ribs in silence and Jim half-closes his eyes, trying not to twitch at the gritty feeling under his skin as it repairs the damage. He suddenly feels sleepy from the pain-killers and the late hour, but forces his eyes to stay open.
He drinks in Bones’ scent, the coffee on his breath when he leans close, the faint smell of shampoo in his hair and Jim keeps his eyes on Bones’ face the whole time until seriously, he just can’t stand it any more, knows he’s gotta say something direct soon, before he fucking bursts with the need to touch Bones.
“So, good news - you’re lucky to have gotten away with severe contusions, fractured ribs and inter-costal strain. Nothin’ worse.”
“Lucky me,” Jim says drily, gripping his shirt in his lap. Damn, he’s gonna have to get down off the bed soon and he really doesn’t want to go.
“Stay out of fights, Kirk - next time you don’t duck you might not be so damned lucky and get a splenic rupture.”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure and do that, Bones. Should I put my shirt on now?” He doesn’t move.
There’s a long moment when Bones stares at him, narrows his eyes and Jim wonders, hopes…
“Do I know you, kid?” Bones finally says, eyebrows one thick line when he frowns, those beautiful, hazel eyes drilling right through him.
Yes!
“What makes you say that…Doctor…McCoy?” Jim makes a show of looking at Leonard’s badge, triumph heating his face.
“First, you seem kind of full of yourself, although something tells me that’s what you’re generally like, so probably doesn’t account for anything. And, second, you keep calling me Bones, which, if I pardon the sheer lack of originality, suggests that even someone who clearly doesn’t respect personal boundaries such as yourself-” Bones suddenly hypos Jim with no gentleness, “-suggests we’ve met before, kid.”
“Ouch! That fucking hurt!” Jim slaps his hand on his neck. Where the hell did he produce the hypo from? A holster? “Well, yeah, we do know each other, seeing as you’re asking, but it’s been a while.” He huffs at the sting, rubs his skin.
Bones stands back, tosses the hypo on the trolley, folds his arms and looks Jim up and down.
Jim stares at his eyebrows, remembers what it was like to lick a stripe across them, remembers the feel of Bones’ tongue in his mouth…fuck.
Jim’s cock throbs and, once again, he feels this compulsion to wrap each limb around Bones, hold him tight, before he’s inevitably whisked away from him. Then he remembers, this Bones won’t disappear. This is his time; Jim’s not with Leonard McCoy from Jim’s future, but the ‘real’ one, the one from the present - for the first time ever.
But Bones, naturally, doesn’t seem to sense this is a momentous occasion. Yet.
“You mind your goddamn language, kid, or I’ll have your ass thrown out of here quicker than a horse takes a fuckin’ dump-“
Bones’ voice is a hiss, but Jim’s got his number. He’s not really mad; Jim can read him. Fuck, he’s known Bones nearly his whole life. Jim hopes the nurses who work with Bones see through the gruff; Jim learned quickly that most of the time it’s an act. Older Bones, his Bones has explained that he needs to keep intense emotion at arm’s length, since stress is one of the triggers to the jumping - else he’d be tripping back and forth through time like a yo-yo.
Jim snorts. Hops off the bed, winces at the twinge in his ribs despite the pain killer and brings his face close to Bones’ tan, ‘angry’ one.
“I’d forgotten how sexy your voice is, with the southern…”
Bones cants his head back, makes room for Jim to put his shirt on, keeps his eyes level with Jim’s face.
“Hey, we’re in Atlanta, we all talk like this here,” Bones glowers.
Jim lets the comment go because, of course, Bones is right, but, Jesus, no one else’s voice in Atlanta could have this same affect on him. He fastens up his shirt very slowly, cocks his head, wonders if Bones notices the way he leaves one too many buttons undone. If he does, it doesn’t stop him grumbling. Jim stares at Bones’ plump lips and doesn’t bother to disguise his longing.
“So you gonna tell me how we know each other? And stop flirting with me - I’m not available.”
Fuck caution, fuck breaking the news to Bones gently…
“This ‘thing’ between you and me, it’s not about ‘available’,” Jim says, his voice trembling. Shit, that was a little intense, maybe.
“What thing? What the hell are you talking about?” Bones shoots a look at Jim, then over his shoulder like he’s checking no one else is in the room when he damn well knows they’re alone.
The dam’s burst now - there’s nothing Jim can do, wants to do, to hold the words from pouring out.
“Even when there are other people, there’s only us. You’re the one told me that when I was just a kid. You don’t remember ‘cause…” Jim scratches his eyebrow while he thinks how to put it. “…well, it hasn’t ‘happened’ yet, sorta… but older you would never forget.” Now Jim has Bones’ undivided attention so he adds the sucker punch. “I know, Bones, I know about the time travelling, I know…”
Jim watches how Bones gapes, frowns as he tries to process what he’s hearing but, it’s the words ‘time travelling’ that seem to hit Bones like a mallet. He glances over his shoulder again, grabs Jim’s arm roughly and hisses, “Shut the fuck up, shut up, okay?”
Of course, Bones doesn’t want to have people over-hear, right.
“Sorry,” Jim says, stepping back, realizing he hasn’t made a great ‘initial’ impression, lowers his voice. “I’m just so fucking happy to see you, it’s…shit, I’ve missed you so bad.”
“When’d’we meet?” Good. Bones is getting it. Only a handful of people are aware of his ‘affliction’ so the fact that Jim even knows about it shows that Bones, the one in the future, must have trusted him - that this Bones can trust him.
“First time? I was just a kid, you were a teenager…back in Iowa, and me and older you have talked about how you don’t remember it. Every other time it’s been you older, older than you are now, I mean.” Jim gulps, hangs onto to Bones’ slightly more relaxed body language; yeah, he’s still wary - makes sense - but looks like he believes him, confusing as it is.
Bones regards Jim with unblinking, dark eyes, his voice raspy when he says:
“Iowa…? Yeah…I don’t, I don’t always remember…And you’re saying we’re a, you know, a…” and Bones flicks a hand back and forth in the space between them frowning.
“Yeah, we are. Will be, I mean.”
Jim watches Bones shake his head. He wants to grab him, say, I’m not gonna let you go again, but when he thinks of Bones trying to finish up his shift, after this big mind-fuck, he thinks better of laying anymore intense shit on him. So Jim fakes calm and says:
“Listen, we should meet. I’ll tell you everything then. What time do you finish? I could buy you breakfast.”
“What with? You look like you haven’t got two credits to your name!”
Ah, there’s that smile, the one that rips Jim’s heart open and, once again he holds back from what every cell in his body seems programmed to do, what he’s wanted and needed since he first set eyes on this crazy fuck, first as a friend and mentor, then more.
“You know something? I have. I have a trust fund - you helped me; I-” Jim starts to say.
“Stop! I don’t wanna- I can’t know about stuff I haven’t done yet - it’s, it’s just too damned weird.”
Yeah, Jim thinks, you haven’t done it yet, but it’s happened already - to me - shit they have a lot to talk about.
“Okay, sorry, I forgot, I’m just so damned pleased to see you. I know this is heavy, and it’s wrong to know what’s gonna happen ahead of time, you always told me that, man. You said it didn’t serve any purpose revealing what’s to come, since none of us can change anything, you said-”
“So stop, stop telling me, Jesus…”
Bones runs a hand through collar length hair. God it looks good on him this length, Jim will have to make sure he can get Bones to keep it like this though he knows, whatever he says, it will make no difference since the Bones he’s met all the times before has always had short hair and now…Jim’s feeling kinda nauseous, must be the pain-killer, plus the fact that he hasn’t eaten for hours now, and he really should get home.
Bones notices, reaches for him and Jim makes a supreme effort to look like he’s fine though he wants nothing more than to feel that familiar warm touch. He forces a smile, shakes his head, and Bones’ hand drops to his side again.
“Okay, I guess we should talk, “Bones says. “Here’s my number. “
He takes Jim’s hand and scribbles on the back of it with a pen. Bones has told Jim he always carries an old style pen, says you never know when you’re stranded without anything else, need to leave a message. Jim’s stomach flips at the sensation of those warm fingers on his wrist burning into his skin with their presence.
“Now go home, Jim-“ Bones voice is a croak. Hearing Bones say his name, gives Jim the boost he needs to put one step in front of the other. “-sleep, give yourself time to heal.” Bones glances back at the nurse who’s just walked in the room and lowers his voice. “I really shouldn’t meet up with a patient, shit…but,” he leans closer, making Jim wonder if he actually can go now, once he feels that puff of warm breath on his face; “comm me when you’re up and we can meet for breakfast, or a beer later or something - though you’re drinking pop, seeing as you’re under age.” Jim wants to bite that warning finger pointing at him.
“You fucking kidding me, man?”
He picks up his jacket and sways slightly before he takes a step towards the door.
“So what happened to ‘Bones’?” And that twitch at the corner of his mouth - that’s a grin Bones is fighting, Jim just knows it.
“Bones was a lot more fun than you, doc,” Jim laughs, zipping up his jacket.
He takes another look at Leonard McCoy, running his eyes up and down that familiar, lanky form, kind of enjoying how Bones glares at him for it. “But I will comm you in the morning, yeah - can’t wait.” Jim glances at the number scrawled on his hand, shoots a look at the nurse, then sighs when he sees Bones’ irritated expression. “Later…”
The door swishes open and Jim can’t resist turning, looking over his shoulder. He licks his lips.
“One more thing, what do you know about four kinds of grass, Bones?”
Bones’ face is a picture now, mouth a large ‘o’ in reaction to something Jim knows his Gram used to say, that maybe Bones has never shared with anyone else. Yeah, there’s no way he won’t meet Jim now.
The last thing Jim hears as he drags himself away is Bones muttering, “Dammit, kid…”
About time.
+++
Leonard
Jim’s comm message comes through at 05:00. Leonard rolls his eyes - he won’t even come off shift until 08:00 but, technically, yeah, it is the morning - Jesus this kid’s pushy.
Moe’s on Highlands. 16:00. Drinks on you.
Peachy. Well, since it’s only gonna be the one drink, why not?
Leonard knocks back his cold, replicated coffee, tosses his comm back in his locker, and heads back to the frontline.
It’s been a long night and he’s barely had a free moment in his head to properly dissect the implications of all this. One thing Leonard’s decided is, much as he’d like to say he recognizes Jim Kirk on some level, he truly doesn’t.
The most bewildering thing of all to Leonard is how in twenty-six years of life, in all those times he’s been visited by an older version of himself, he’s never once mentioned Jim Kirk. And in a way, this is what makes him reply to the comm, agree to meet Jim. If Older Leonard’s not mentioned Jim, the kid must be of significance. Older Leonard’s never let slip anything important about the future, keeping all the ‘good’ stuff under his hat. And it’s even weirder that he should have jumped back to someone multiple times, someone he doesn’t ‘know’. While Leonard’s got no idea why he jumps to any time in the past, he’s always looking for patterns, and while he’s got no control, can’t choose where to go, it’s generally to someone who has significance in his life. So why Jim Kirk?
It would be damned nice for this to be evidence that Leonard’s long held, romantic notions have some basis in reality, that somewhere there’s a soul mate for everyone, but nothing he’s seen of this kid so far can support that. Still, he needs to understand how this cocky kid fits into his life.
And the comment about the grass has been tormenting Leonard off and on for hours. It’s like trying to clutch onto a fragment of a dream or something but the more he ‘looks’, the more understanding slips away - shit, this doesn’t make any kind of sense.
His gram, she used it as a remedy for bee stings, said it soothed the pain away and used it on Leonard once or twice; now, of course, he realizes it was the rubbing itself made a kid feel better, serving as a distraction from the pain, releasing endorphins into the blood stream. Even so, why did Jim mention it at all?
Later, when he’s finally finished his handover to the new shift, thoughts of Jim sitting on the bio-bed, making eyes at him, looking happier than a tick on a fat dog, crowd back.
On the hover-tram home, Leonard replays every moment at leisure, recalls how Jim kept up the sassy attitude, yet let it slip for a second when Leonard mentioned the childhood history, specifically the multiple breaks. For all his ballsy posturing, this kid’s got a lot to hide and Leonard sensed immediately that getting anything more out of him, other than what was in the records, would have been like pulling teeth. Leonard took it all in though, how everything on record related to before Jim was fourteen, how there was nothing on Jim Kirk in the past six years, not even updated dental records despite his shiny, even teeth. Maybe his family went off planet for a while. Even so, there’s been plenty of time for the records to be updated - it doesn’t make sense.
And how the hell did Jim develop all those food allergies in this day and age? Jim shrugged off the eczema Leonard noticed when running the machine over the grazes and contusions on Jim’s knuckles, said sometimes he just had to have a bit of ketchup with his fries.
And Leonard admits he’s a little surprised at how off-hand Jim had been about being in a fight, so blasé about being beaten on. This would indicate he must’ve been involved in more than his fair share of brawls; but in that case, why was there no record of Jim being in an ER in years? And last night, when he hadn’t been so badly injured, why did Jim choose to check himself in? Not for the first time, Leonard contemplates the weird twisted path of his life and the vague notion that another hand is playing a role in his fate, though it goes against everything he wants to believe about free will, cause and effect.
Leonard remembers the link to the psychological profile on Jim’s history, how he didn’t have clearance to access it. Curiouser and curiouser.
Leonard crashes in bed, sets the chrono for five hours later - he’s going to need something like a full quota of sleep if he’s gonna deal with this little dervish and hell, he can always take a nap later. He’s not due back at work till he starts day shift in forty-eight hours. There’s plenty of time.
+++
Jim
Jim can’t sleep he’s so fucking wired.
Bones. “Bones…” he says out loud, hugging himself.
He jerks off twice in the hour after he leaves the hospital, thinking about those beautiful hands on him again, after two whole years. He’d almost given up hope, thought he’d never see Bones, although it’s not what he’s been told in all the time they’ve spent together since he was a kid, but when Bones didn’t come back, and one month rolled into another, he’d begun to despair - life without Bones was just wrong. But Older Bones warned Jim, said there would be at least two occasions when they’d not see each other for years; while refusing to say exactly how long, he said Jim should get on with his life, pretend Bones didn’t exist, not wait, not change what he did. Make his own plans, his own way.
Jim moved to Georgia after eighteen months had passed, looked Leonard McCoy up on the nets, knew he was employed by the Atlanta Metropolitan Health Authority; Bones could be anywhere in the city but he resisted searching further because it went against ‘the rules’.
Bones always said that things will happen, will fall into place and they’d meet again when the time was right. So that’s why Jim found himself in the med centre, even though usually he’d avoid medical treatment like the plague ‘cept when it’s Bones. He vowed to have nothing more to do with doctors when he ‘came back’ from off planet…and Jim shakes that memory away, of the countless intrusions, tests, the scrutiny, real quick… but his ribs really hurt after that fight, and he couldn’t breathe properly and that’s never happened before. See? It was meant; Bones was right - things happen when the times right, Jim tells himself.
So now Jim’s working at a mechanic’s a couple of days a week, rest of the time hustling in pool halls for cash. He only touches the trust fund for rent, nothing else, because that’s what Jim decided he’d do, much as Bones tried to persuade him to use the money to get back into school.
Jim manages to doze off for a while and almost leaps out of bed when he hears the comm buzz. It’s ten after eight - Bones must’ve just come off shift.
Okay
That it? Laconic bastard.
Jim’s pretty sure Bones read the comm a couple of hours ago, only answering now, playing hard to get; he’s the master of that, Jim thinks, remembering the months before their first time, how Bones had held out and held out until - shit, now Jim’s hard again and he jerks off in a hurry, thinking about how gentle Bones had been two years ago, even when Jim pleaded, “harder please, Bones, fuck, harder. I won’t break.”
“Yeah, but I might, kid.”
Fuck.
+++
Leonard
14:10 and Leonard’s in the shower. He’s not taking as much care as he would for a date, because, hell - this isn’t a date. They’re just going to talk. Yet despite needing to know what the hell this is all about, he’s uncomfortable as hell seeing a patient, and while Jim’s not technically his patient anymore, still…
He needs to get his head around this ‘thing’. Needs to know how this kid fits into his life. Way Jim Kirk was talking, sounds like they’ll be more than friends. He remembers how Jim looked at him, flirted dammit - they must have had/will have (fuck this is some crazy shit) a sexual relationship.
It’s been months since Leonard’s had sex - sure, Leonard’s had offers but he’s still smarting from Jocelyn, still not sure about what he wants and one thing Leonard’s learned in the past twenty-six years is, if he thinks with his heart (cock?), he’s not thinking at all. He’s managed to make enough relationship mistakes in that time that he’ll fight shy of the prospect of hooking up with anyone new, let alone a someone so young, let alone a guy, for fuck’s sake.
Leonard stands in front of the bathroom mirror, dripping water all over the floor. Fuck it, he can do as he pleases - Joss isn’t here to bitch him out.
He examines his reflection, wonders what Jim saw when he was gazing so goddamned adoringly at him. People say Leonard’s attractive though he’s not sure he sees it himself. Face is too much like a girl’s he thinks, like a girl with a really unfortunate facial hair problem. He applies beard-suppressor to his jaw with a sigh - this shit doesn’t work; he’ll be Stubble Man within a couple of hours and Jim’ll think he hasn’t made an effort. Wait. Effort? What the fuck, this isn’t a date. He tweezes out an errant eyebrow that’s appeared between his brows overnight - all the advances in science, and many he’ll hopefully be responsible for in the future, and he still looks like a wolf.
Leonard peers at his eyes, tugs at the dark skin under them. He looks old before his time, but, whatever, after what he’s been through it’s not so strange, but yeah, he could be in his mid thirties rather than mid twenties. Jim said Leonard was fourteen the first time they met, and he wonders what the hell brought them together, hates that he can’t remember a thing about it. Maybe it was one of those times he jumped in his sleep…those times he jumps back awake enough but can’t remember a damned thing about where he’s been.
Was it mere chance that he should have found Jim the first time, or was Leonard on one of his futile ‘fix the future’ campaigns? Lord knows there’ve been enough of those. Waste of fucking time.
Jim said it was Iowa. Leonard did go through a period in his late teens when he jumped to Iowa a few times… didn’t make sense…but then, Leonard’s almost given up looking for a pattern, a purpose. Once he ended up at Riverside shipyard - that was hairy - got chased by fucking dogs inside a perimeter fence, one bit his ankle and he jumped out before they could tear him apart, but that’s his strongest memory of Iowa - nothing that even could have been a time he met Jim. He’ll quiz Jim later - probe for details, maybe something will come back to him.
Looking at his eyes, the sludge colored irises, the red rims, leads Leonard to think about the clearness of Jim’s. He can’t shake off the way Jim had looked at him, all wide-eyed and trusting, gabbling, so fucking excited to see him. Leonard shakes his head. They were blue like the sky, reminded him of his Gram - she was the only one in the family without the trademark McCoy hazel irises. She used to joke it was ‘cause she was a witch, so she said when Leonard was a kid and she applied one of her potions to him, rubbing his temple, whispering strange words under her breath to ‘cure’ a bruise or grazed knee.
And Jim unsettled Leonard - ‘cause despite the honesty in Jim’s body-language (yeah, Leonard wasn’t fooled by the kid ‘holding back’ could see him clenching his hands, his knee bouncing, the way his gaze followed Leonard’s every movement) despite the ‘openness’, those baby-blues were impenetrable - he was saying something Leonard couldn’t understand.
Leonard shakes his head, falls back onto the bed naked and contemplates his strange fucking life, which, looks like it was gonna take an even stranger turn in a few hours time and, as ever, he’s powerless to do anything about it.
+++
Jim
15:50 - Jim’s been sitting at the bar over half an hour now. He picked Moe’s ‘cause, although Bones’ll bitch about how it’s ‘tryin’ to be traditional’, in fact it’s just about the only kind of place he’ll tolerate; not too fancy, just beer and pool and bar snacks. Plus there are plenty of dark booths Jim thinks with another surge of lust.
He’s arrived early so he can knock back a couple of shots before Bones turns up and has a chance to lecture him about underage drinking. Again. They’ve been through this before; how Bones isn’t Jim’s dad, shouldn’t act like he is and yeah, things have changed since Jim came back from Tarsus, when Jim managed to get the message through that maybe he’s proven he can look after himself and, “I’ve done fine all these years without some guy telling me how to run my life, alright-?”
But this Bones doesn’t know about anything, doesn’t know about Jim’s history. Jim considers this, plays with the idea that he can start afresh here, if he wants, cover up his delinquency, his promiscuity, his dead-end attitude, his no future, fucked up existence but, but… shit - one thing’s always been true: Bones and him? It’s always been about honesty - neither has ever lied to the other. Sure, Bones hasn’t told him about what’s going to happen - he always said that he couldn’t, wouldn’t do that and that it’s enough Bones says, he has to bear the weight of his ‘impairment’ as he calls it, without adding that to Jim’s life. If people know what’s going to happen to them, it fucks them up.
Yeah, Jim owes it to Bones to just be himself. Bones will find it hard to take in, but Jim knows, a few hours together, when he tells Bones about the times they’ve shared, Bones will get it. Get them.
Holy shit - Bones. He’s got him back.
+++
Leonard
16:15 -“Should’ve brushed your teeth, kid,” Leonard says once they’re sitting on the beat up leather stools and Jim’s pulling faces after his first sip of cola. “You’ve been drinking -- how’d you get served anyway?”
They look at the waitress ogling the pair of them, and exchange looks. Leonard knows Jim doesn’t need to explain. This kid could charm the panties off a nun, probably has and then some. But Leonard’s no nun so when Jim says:
“Can’t I just have a shot of whiskey, brighten my drink up?”
Leonard glowers, says, “Not on my watch,” and shoots Jim his patented ‘that’s the end of this discussion’ look, as Joss always called it.
Jim pouts and suddenly looks his age despite his bravura and swagger. Leonard thinks about how Jim’s only just turned twenty and feels a cold trickle of panic across his shoulders. What the hell does all this mean? Well, he’ll soon find out way this kid can’t shut up talking for more than a second. He almost considers slipping Jim a tranquilizer.
+++
“So, how many times have we met before?”
Jim shrugs. “Dunno, never counted - dozens maybe?”
That many? Holy hell - he’d thought it might have been a handful of times, sure, but dozens… He hasn’t offered any details and Leonard wants to probe, wants to know when, how, why, but how can he when it’s all gonna happen anyway, when knowing just makes everything…
Leonard leans over, suddenly conscious that he’s had one too many. Since the jumping is often triggered by high stress, heavy drinking is one of the few ways Leonard can keep calm in company. Or the elixir his Gram taught him how to make, which they both dubbed the ‘Drink Me’, inspired by Alice in Wonderland which Gram used to read him when he was small. Alcohol and the elixir keep him calm, fix him in the present. Leonard doesn’t always take the Drink Me ‘cause it makes him impotent, makes him cranky, brings on wild dreams on those occasions when he’s dumb enough to drink alcohol with it too.
And, because of the impotence, when he was trying to make a baby, the Drink Me wasn’t conducive to a happy marriage. Then, when Leonard kept time-travelling ‘cause he was so stressed, it was hello Jim Beam, goodbye elixir for a while.
Regular tranquillizers are a nightmare, give him stomach problems, make him too woozy to work, so he avoids them except under extreme circumstances.
Nothing works one hundred percent - Leonard’s only hope is that he can develop a cure in time, something without side-effects. Fuck knows he can’t go on like this much longer.
He’s tried to get information out of his future self enough times, find out if he’s ever cured of his impairment, but the tight-lipped bastard, his Older Self, refuses to give Leonard anything. The most he’s got to hang onto is the miniscule hope that he’ll work something out one day, maybe.
He remembers how he smashed his fist repeatedly into Older Leonard’s face that time, when Older Leonard came back too late in a futile attempt to try and stop his younger self turning off his daddy’s life support. It was a few months later Leonard understood the implications, when he discovered someone had found a cure for pyrrhoneuritis and Older Leonard could have done something, said something, given him that knowledge that would have stopped him killing his, their daddy.
He knows he can’t change the past, yet he keeps trying, like a dumb fly throwing itself against a window over and over.
“Tell me, you fuckin’ bastard, tell me the traveling ends one day,” he’d railed, slamming Older Leonard against the wall again, hot tears falling down both their cheeks, his counterpart bearing a bloodied mouth.
“Jus’ fucking stop, asshole. You know, we can’t change anythin’. Stop.”
Leonard released Older Leonard. “I can’t fucking stand this. There must be some way we can lick this thing. Tell me you’re getting somewhere in your time. I’m fucking begging.”
“Alright…” Older Leonard whispered, “I’ve got a lead, okay. Now go fucking cry for daddy, not yourself - we aren’t worth it.”
And the worst thing? Even though Leonard knows he won’t be able to save his daddy, how the fact that he dies at his son’s hand will always stay in the past, and it can’t be changed. Even so, in years to come, he’ll still jump back, try and intervene, despite inevitable failure. Christ Leonard knows that, knows because he’s seen his future self fail. But he’s gotta try, just like he kept trying to save his cousin David from drowning in the boating accident. He leans his face on his hands and reaches for his glass.
He’s trapped, cursed…Fuck, fuck…
“Bones?”
“Yeah?” Leonard clears his throat, sniffs, and knocks back the next shot.
“Your mind wandering?”
“Yeah, sorry…”
And when the hell did Jim end up sitting so close to him? They’re in a booth, at the back of the bar; they played some pool and Jim beat him every time. Maybe Leonard shouldn’t have said not to hold back on his account - but the kid’s a multi-tasker, that’s for sure. Able to talk incessantly, clear the table, and make eyes constantly at Leonard.
Leonard closes his eyes and opens them again when the image of Older Leonard’s compassionate eyes come back to haunt him.
Leonard’s way beyond buzzed now. Jim’s leg is bouncing against his, an elbow’s pressed against him and shit, now he allows himself to look at Jim, properly, trying to see a person, not a piece of history, or some landmark in his dumb life. Fuck, those are pretty lips and - holy hell, Jim’s rubbing up against him like some tom cat and that tongue… “Jim, I…this isn’t such a good idea.” He unwinds Jim’s arms that have suddenly clung to his neck.
Jim takes the rebuttal with a smile. His eyelids are drooping, he’s panting slightly and he leans in again, right up to his ear. “Don’tcha want me, Bones? We need to make up for lost time…”
Fuck yeah, he does, he really does and, if there’s one thing Leonard’s learned is sometimes you gotta live in the moment, and he needs this, needs to feel present, wants this warmth, this kid - so he grabs the back of Jim’s head, pulls him in for a bruising kiss, and just like that, there’s nothing to talk about other than how the hell they’re gonna get back to his place quick enough.
ON TO PART 3