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FIC: Here I Am (Come and Take Me) (nuTrek, Jim/Bones, R) (2/2)
Visit Part 1 for header.
It's not until they've been on the job for eight months straight without a break that Jim realizes how fantastic shore leave really is. Fortunes align somewhere along the bureaucratic channels of Starfleet to give the ship a six-day furlough at a starbase with extensive tourist accommodations. The real reason for the stop is that that they're waiting for some parts that Scotty assures him he needs desperately if Jim wants the warp engines to work with any kind of reliability, but Jim doesn't see why they should waste the opportunity.
When even Spock agrees with his logic, Jim knows he's got a great idea on his hands.
The prospect of three days free of responsibility is more heady than Jim thought it would be, but it just goes to show him how much he needs the break. His first night on the planet, Jim does what he figures most of his crew will end up doing -- he goes in search of a good time and a willing bed partner. It doesn't take him long to find one in a Human botanist who came to the starbase for its network of cultivated gardens, but stays an extra night for the view of them from Jim's hotel suite. She's interesting and flexible, and they both enjoy themselves. The next morning they part pleasantly, Jim bidding her a farewell as she catches her transport.
What surprises Jim once she's gone is how empty the entire encounter feels in retrospect. Not that the sex wasn't great because it was, but thinking back on it gives him a vague sense of unease, like it was something he shouldn't done.
It's an entirely new reaction for Jim.
Looking for something to distract him, Jim goes in search of Bones, who's on the same shore leave rotation as he is. It takes him awhile, but he finally finds his friend relaxing by one of the complex's many outdoor pools interspersed throughout the gardens to soften its artificiality. Bones cuts a rather fetching figure, Jim notices, stretched out in a lounger in nothing but a pair of shorts. His eyes are closed, so Jim takes his chance to sneak up on him, dragging a chair closer before he announces his presence.
"Well, don't you look comfortable?"
Jim was hoping for a surprised squawk but instead Bones just lazily turns his head toward the noise and slowly lifts his eyelids. "Nice try, kid, but I could hear you coming a mile away."
Jim grins. "I thought you were asleep."
"It's called relaxin'," he tells him, so unwound his speech is following suit, it seems. "You should try it sometime."
Jim leans back in the chair to stretch his legs out in front of him. "Oh, I have."
Bones's gaze sharpens. "So you had a good night, huh?"
"Yeah," he admits, trying to ignore the strange unsettledness. "You know me."
Bones nods. "I sure do." He reaches beneath his chair and brandishes a portable medkit. Jim watches in confusion, wondering what his friend is up to, until he gets a hypospray in the neck.
"Bones!" He glares as he rubs the sore spot. "What the hell?"
"That should take care of any STDs you might've picked up last night," Bones tells him as he snaps the medkit closed and stows it under his chair once more. "I've got more if you get 'lucky' again."
Bones doesn't have to use his hands for Jim to hear the air quotes. "Jesus, warn a guy next time, why don't you?"
"Just looking out for you, Jimmy," Bones tells him, shooting him a strange look. He's seen it on occasion over the years of their friendship, most especially in their last year of academy. He's tried to form a theory but so far he hasn't figured out the common thread between each appearance. He adds this one to the mental tally and promises himself to think about it later.
"Anyway," Jim begins, still shooting Bones a wounded look. "What are your plans?"
"You're looking at 'em," Bones says. "Sun, water, peace and quiet."
"Heat, bugs?" Jim points out.
Bones nods, like Jim's agreeing with him. "Grand, right?"
"I'm going to go with no," he replies as he begins to rise from his chair. "You have fun."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Bones tells him. "As your doctor, I think it would do you a world of good to actually slow down for once instead of racing off to find some new way to get yourself into trouble."
Jim considers it for a minute, looking down at Bones's drowsy, relaxed face. There's nothing on his agenda other than wandering around the complex, and that's lost some of his shine since the night before. "Okay."
That, more than anything, catches Bones's attention. He sits up and squints at Jim in suspicion. "Okay?"
"Okay," Jim repeats. He replaces his chair with a lounger like Bones's, then kicks off his shoes and shucks his shirt before he settles into it, letting his eyes drift close. "I'm giving it a try."
He can feel Bones's eyes on him for a full minute while he rests calmly in the lounger, willing his twitchy limbs to relax. After another minute of silence, he's surprised by the feel of something hitting his stomach. When Jim jerks up in response, he finds it's a tube of ointment.
"You better use that if you're serious," Bones tells him. "Otherwise the UVs off that sun up there will fry you good."
His friend doesn't see the grin Jim shoots him in gratitude as he applies the protection, but it's there. Once he's all oily with lotion, Jim kicks back and tries to follow his friend's example. Jim has always had too much energy for restful relaxation and, since he got into the academy, his mind has usually been too busy for idleness. But he knows Bones is right about how he's been pushing himself since he became Captain, and he's willing to try anything once.
After an hour or so, Jim has to admit it's not bad. They're quiet more than they talk, but every so often they pick up a thread of conversation. More than anything it reminds him of their early days together at the academy, the way they kept each other company while they studied. It's the same kind of easy silence, and it starts to work its magic on Jim. The heat of the sun becomes welcome as it soaks into his bones, even the sweat beading on his skin isn't so bad when the cooler breeze from the water sweeps over him. He doesn't know if he could actually find so much peace in it without Bones there with him, but with his friend by his side, he passes a few hours in easy repose.
Before Jim knows it, it's time for lunch, which he and Bones have together at a small restaurant just outside of the hotel complex. After they're both full of delicious, non-replicated seafood, Jim decides a little payback is in order, so he drags Bones farther out into the city to a museum that the hotel mentioned in its brochures. From there, they somehow end up in one of those tourist-trap markets and Bones bitches about it the entire time, but still ends up buying several trinkets for friends and family on Earth.
Once they've spent their credits at the market, it's almost time for dinner. Bones tries to beg off after that, but Jim uses his not-inconsiderable charm to convince his friend to accompany him out to continue their exploration of the tourist district.
After the great time they have that day, it seems natural for Jim to fall in with Bones for their final day of shore leave. Before he knows it, they're packing up their bags and beaming back to the ship to relieve the next round of leave-bound crewman.
It's not until much, much later, as Jim is settling back into his quarters before his shift that he realizes that the strange uneasiness he felt the second morning never made another appearance, and neither did that strange look of Bones's. Jim can't explain the why of either of them, but he doesn't mind the mysteries now that they've passed.
All in all, he decides it was the best shore leave he could've had, even if he have a reason for any more hypos to the neck.
**
Leonard should've known it the first minute they met, but he didn't. And now it's taken him almost four years for him to realize a simple truth --
Jim Kirk is going to be the end of him.
As he realizes this, the captain and his away team have been missing for almost three days. It's not the first time and, if they make it back, Leonard is reasonably sure it won't be the last. But that knowledge doesn't ease the ache in his chest when he thinks about never seeing Jim again or soothe away the panic that possibility makes claw through him. He joked more than once that Jim was making go gray before his time, but he was beginning to think it was a definite possibility that Jim might induce a heart attack in him.
In more ways than one.
Underneath that truth is a more fundamental one, one he'd ignored pretty well since it had surprised him sometime during their third year in Academy. Somewhere along the way, Jim became more than just his unlikely new friend in Starfleet, even more than the shoulder to cry on as he worked through the last stages of grief for the death of his marriage. No, somewhere along the way Leonard McCoy did one of the stupidest things a man can do --
He fell for his brash, impulsive, genius idiot best friend.
Leonard thought it had been hard nursing this thing while being friends with Jim at school, watching him flit from girl to boy to girl while Leonard ground his teeth in silent frustration. He had almost gotten good at that as they neared graduation. But then he'd followed Jim out into space where he's been able to watch Jim grow into the great man he always knew waited inside the scared kid. It's also given him a first-hand view of every close call Jim's had since becoming captain and that's what's starting to wear thin on him. Leonard's not sure how many more times he can watch Jim go blithely into danger before he does something even stupider himself, like tell Jim how he feels.
The only thing worse than being ignored is being pitied; it's one of the things his divorce taught him well.
With Jim missing and Spock busy trying to figure out how to find him, Leonard's stuck in limbo, waiting for an answer that might not come. He doesn't dare go off-duty or leave the haven of his office where he knows Spock will search for him if they need him. He could go up to the bridge and worry with the rest of them but Leonard's always preferred to suffer in solitude if he can.
Leonard is still staring off into space as he has been doing for hours when he hears the sound of the sickbay doors sliding open and shut. He jumps to his feet to see who's come in.
"Doctor McCoy?" Spock calls out.
"Spock." Leonard rounds on him. "Any word?"
"I'm afraid not," Spock admits.
"Then what the hell are you doing down here?"
Spock looks uncomfortable, his eyes on everything but Leonard's face. "I had hoped perhaps for some...counsel."
"Counsel?" Leonard repeats. "About what?"
Spock finally gets enough to nerve to meet his eyes but he flinches at whatever he sees. Leonard wonders what's showing on his face to get that kind of reaction. "After a similar situation as this one in the past, the Captain informed me that you would be an ideal individual if I found myself needing advice while he was...unavailable. Despite my belief otherwise, I do find myself in need of it."
Leonard remembers a drunken conversation with Jim about emotional compromise and rocks. He curses under his breath. "You think I'm in any better shape than you? Jim's my best friend."
"I'm aware, Doctor," Spock tells him. "He is...significant to me as well."
It's the first time Leonard thinks Spock has ever admitted that out loud, but he doesn't want to be the Vulcan's poor imitation of a friend. He wants Jim back and he wants Spock to do his job and make it happen. But there's a part of him that can't help but reach out, even to Spock; it's probably the part of him that got him mixed up with Jim in the first place. He closes his eyes and prays. "Well, what can I say to help you, Spock?"
"I find myself at a loss about what to do next."
"Aren't we all?" Leonard knows how much it hurts Spock to make that admission, even if it's just to him, on Jim's orders. It also hurts to hear how very dire the situation is. "You gotta think like Jim would, Spock. That's how to figure this mess out."
"Our minds are complementary but not alike," he tells him, like Leonard doesn't know. "I find myself unable to replicate his way of thinking."
"You remember, the Maru hearing? The stuff he said about the rule book and throwing it out?" At Spock's tight nod, Bones continues. "You've got to throw out everything logical and look at what's illogical. Because if logical would've worked, you would've done it by now. So all we've got is what's left."
"That is..." Spock seems at a loss. "Unexpectedly logical."
"I have my moments," Bones replies. After a moment, he adds, "I am here if you need me. I'm half out of my mind with worry, but I'm here if you need to bounce ideas off someone."
"I appreciate that, Doctor," Spock tells him before glancing back toward the door. "I think I should return to the bridge."
Leonard waves him away. "Let me know if something changes."
Spock doesn't move. "I was hoping that you would join me. I may be in need of your unique perspective again."
Leonard huffs out something close to laugher at that. "Might as well. I ain't of much use down here."
In the end, it's a winning combination that brings Jim and the others back safely: Spock's logical application of illogic, Jim's limitless creativity under stress, and Leonard's stubborn belief that the two first will work at all. Spock doesn't even try to argue against his inclusion on the away team when they beam down to retrieve the battered away team, and not because the Vulcan knows a physician will come in handy.
Jim, of course, is in the worst shape of all because he always ends up putting himself in the most danger, and Leonard is happy to think about the lecture he plans to give him once he's patched up. He wants to be the one who carries his listless friend out of the little foxhole, but it makes much more sense to let Spock bear his weight with his superior Vulcan strength. Leonard contents himself with hovering anxiously with his medical tricorder and laying down cover fire when they encounter a few of the spear-wielding aliens that ambushed the team in the first place.
Once they reach the safety of the Enterprise, Leonard is the one in charge when it comes to Jim and he cracks out orders with every bit of the emotion he's bottled up over the last few days. Chapel is standing by in the transporter room with a gurney which Spock gently deposits Jim on. Then Leonard is having him rushed down to the sickbay where he can better figure out all the internal injuries Jim has probably managed to accrue.
With the machines busy computing all around him, Leonard knows he doesn't need to use his hands to figure anything out, but he can't help himself. His fingers brush over Jim's wrist, feeling the pulse beneath the skin, then slide across his forehead, an archaic way to feel for an elevated temperature. Jim's shirt is soiled, torn and useless, so Leonard strips him of it, cataloguing each splash of bruise across his chest first with his eyes, then his hands. Leonard is glad for the chirping of the monitors because they tell a much less severe story than Jim's body does, battered as it appears to his eyes. The worst of it is the concussion that's left him out cold, but the imaging tells Leonard that there's no lasting damage, although there may be some equilibrium problems for a few weeks. It's luckier than anyone has a right to be and it doesn't matter how many times Leonard witnesses it with his own eyes, he'll never trust that this won't be the time Jim is finally out of luck.
A few hyposprays quickly mitigate the symptoms -- pain, inflammation, infection. Jim's not awake to bitch about Leonard's bedside manner or the sting of the shots. Once Jim's breathing has eased under the medications' liquid comfort, Leonard can't resist reaching out again, leaning down to touch his forehead to Jim's. He takes his own comfort from the touch, from the feel of each breath against his cheek, his hand tangled, ever so briefly, in Jim's wild hair.
"You've gotta stop doing this to me, Jim," he whispers between them, a secret Jim won't know he's shared once he wakes up. "I'm not actually a goddamn rock, you know."
"Dr. McCoy?"
Spock's voice is as hesitant as Leonard's ever heard him but the doctor still snaps up, away from Jim.
"What do you want, Spock?" he asks, pretending to busy himself with the readouts on Jim's monitors, though he's got them memorized by now.
"I wanted a status report on the Captain's condition," he explains.
"He'll be fine in a few days," Leonard answers. "Lots of bruising which is gonna hurt like hell, but the concussion is really the worst of it."
Spock nods, then looks around as if he's just noticed the lack of other personnel in this part of sickbay. "Are you not going off duty now?"
Leonard frowns. "Of course not, why would you think that?"
"Because from my estimation, you've been on duty 18.4 hours now, and you have not slept for 27.7 hours. Humans are not capable of sustaining such a pace. And now that the Captain..."
"This human is capable of whatever he damn well pleases," Leonard informs him. "I'm staying here."
"Doctor..."
"Spock." He's not loud, but the name is sharp on his tongue, sharp enough to stop the Vulcan's speech. "I'm not leaving him."
There is some spark of emotion in those dark eyes, but it passes too quickly for Leonard to catch it. Still Spock nods again. "Of course."
Leonard barely notices the soft farewell when the first officer leaves him alone with his patient. He's far too focused on Jim, on everything about him he feared he'd never experience again.
As he keeps his vigil in the dim quiet of the sickbay, Leonard knows he's the damn fool for caring so much in the first place, but he also knows he couldn't stop now, not even if he tried.
**
Despite what Bones says loudly and emphatically every time he wakes up in the sickbay, Jim doesn't look for, ask for or seek out trouble. He certainly doesn't purposefully get himself tossed around by aliens with superior strength (except that time with Spock, but that was completely different) and he never wants to be shot, stabbed, bruised, or injured in any way.
The fact that it happens so often is just proof that there's a cosmic balance in play. Jim's had a lot of luck come his way in the last year or so, so it makes sense he's got to pay it back somehow.
As long as he doesn't actually die, Jim figures it's an even trade.
So while Jim never wants to get hurt, he has to admit that there's one thing he likes about it, at least once the pain is gone and his presence in the sickbay is mostly based on medical paranoia, and it's the way that Bones, once he's done with all the griping, takes care of him.
Jim's never had a lot of coddling in his life. Winona Kirk still doesn't have a motherly bone in her body, despite giving birth to two sons, and Jim wasn't close to anyone else, except his brother, who learned everything he knew about care-giving from the example set by his mother and her second husband. It really wasn't until he took up with Bones, who hid his soft heart beneath a rather gruff exterior, that Jim even had someone even try to take care of him. Even though he would never admit it to anyone, he secretly revels in it.
But Bones has been a little standoffish this time around, and Jim can't help but wonder why. Not that he hasn't been concerned -- it's there, in his troubled eyes and pinched-looking frown -- but he's kept his distance. Jim doesn't understand it and he's not sure how to ask for it, or even what he would ask for if he did.
By the time he's being discharged to continue his recuperation in his quarters, he can't shake the feeling that something is desperately wrong with Bones. He can't put his finger on what, but he's not acting like the Bones Jim is used to, which is causing klaxons to sound in his head.
Jim is supposed to be sitting in his biobed in sickbay working out the problem while he waits for his discharge but the painkillers he's taking have never been his favorite, so what he ends up doing is falling into a light doze. It's not bad because, in that sleepy twilight, he's still aware enough to sense Bones at his side. Just standing there beside him Bones is a comfort, but then Jim feels Bones's fingers brush against his, a light, lingering touch that they've never shared before. Jim swears that just before he jolts awake he feels those same fingers brush against the hair that spills across his forehead.
Not that he'll never know for sure because when he opens his eyes and blinks against the medicinal haze, Bones's arms are crossed as he watches him. "Bones?"
"Who else?" Bones asks with a snort. "I've finally got everything squared away, so you can go back to your quarters. Do you need some help?"
Jim shakes his head, but it's less an answer and more an attempt to clear his head.
Bones takes it for an answer, though, and keeps talking. "Remember what I said about your equilibrium, okay? Don't be --"
"Bones." Jim reaches out and returns the gesture he thinks he felt earlier, trailing the tips of his fingers over Bones's. It works because Bones's mouth snaps shut, eyes staring down at where Jim touches him until he reluctantly pulls away. "What's wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me?" Bones asks. "You're the one with the concussion and the bruised ribs and the ---"
"You've been acting weird, ever since this last mission," Jim points out. "What gives?"
"Just had some stuff on my mind is all," he tells him, then shoots him a look. "Like how I'm going to keep you from getting yourself killed before you hit the year mark on your captaincy. At this rate, you might make it a year and a half if you're lucky."
"Oh, I'm lucky," Jim assures him, thinking of his own theories on the subject. "But you don't have to worry about me, Bones. A mishap or two isn't that big a deal."
"Have you actually read your medical report?" Bones asks, waving around his PADD. "It reads like a medical encyclopedia for every injury a man can sustain without maiming or killing himself in the process."
Jim can't help but grin because this was what he was looking for, not Bones being all professional and polite. That's not the Bones he knows and it's certainly not the Bones he wants. "Is that concern I detect in your voice, Doctor?"
That earns him a glare. "Just because I'm not wound-up like one of those damn antique clocks you like so much doesn't mean I'm not concerned."
"I know, Bones, I'm just teasing," he tells him. "I know you can't help but let yourself worry a little every now and then."
"Jim, I worry about you every goddamn minute of every day," he tells him. While he speaks, he settles on the edge of biobed, letting it bear some of it weight while he pins Jim with a look. "In fact, if I keep on like I've been, I'm not going to have to worry about gray hair because the stress is gonna get me long before I ever see 40."
Everything about the remark is so Bones; the casual profanity, the gruffness, the sincerity beneath it all. It lights Jim up from the inside in a way he's never noticed before, pleasure spreading from a pool in his gut to warm his entire body. Jim never tires of that feeling, either, the one that he gets when Bones looks at him like he does now, a familiar mix of exasperation and affection. It's a thread that runs through a lot of the past year or two, just bubbling under the surface.
It hits Jim like lightning just then, that he's had it all wrong. It hasn't been that Bones has been acting any differently in the last few days, it's been that Jim wants more of it, more of Bones, more of whatever that feeling is that he realizes only Bones has ever stirred in him. It's such a tangled feeling, a component of so many other ones -- comfort, security, that scary rush of fondness when he's not expecting it, and even a heat that he's easily ignored in favor of their friendship they've made.
It should scare Jim that it's taken a year for him to place it or that it's only hit him in the last minute or so, but it doesn't because he's pretty sure he sees an answering emotion in Bones's eyes and has been for a while. Jim's just been too busy to notice.
"Bones," he says, wishing he could express everything with a single word. He can't, of course, and Bones gives him a quizzical look, waiting patiently for an explanation Jim can't actually find the words for. So he relies on action instead.
It shows how much trust is between them that Bones doesn't pull away as Jim leans in, just keeps waiting, and Jim shamelessly presses his advantage. The first touch of his lips to Bones's is electric, something he's never thought about really but something he knows he's been wanting for longer than he cares to think about. He's a beat into the contact, ready to deepen it past a mere meeting of mouths when he feels Bones tense as if he wants to pull away. Jim's stubborn, though, even in this, so he keeps up the gentle assault with his lips while his hands come to trace down Bones's crossed arms, carefully pulling them out of their defensive position.
Somewhere along with the way, Bones starts to respond.
The next thing Jim knows, their tangled hands rest in his lap as they continue the kiss, which grows more and more heated by the second. When it starts to get really interesting is when Bones comes to his senses, pulling away so they can both pant for the breath they've denied themselves.
"Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought," Bones manages to say between ragged breaths.
"Bones, no," Jim protests. He tightens his fingers around Bones's just so the doctor doesn't get any ideas about pulling away. "I can't believe you want to blame this on a head injury."
He's gentle about it, but Bones does start to extract his hands from Jim's grip. "There's a better explanation?"
"Yes," Jim tells him emphatically. "It's because I finally figured it out. What it means that you're my rock." That earns him a little burst of amusement. "What it means that I worry you into premature graying, and that I know I couldn't do this captain thing without you, not in a million years."
He can tell Bones wants to believe him; it's written across his face in a stark, painful way that makes something constrict in Jim's chest. He wonders how he's missed it for so long when it's been staring him in the face. "You could," Bones tells him. "Don't sell yourself short."
"Maybe I could," Jim concedes. He leans in a little before he speaks again, like he's sharing an important secret. And, really, he is. "But I wouldn't want to. Not without you here with me."
It's hardly a declaration of undying devotion (though coming from him, Jim supposes, it's close) but it causes Bones's sharp-eyed gaze to search his face with a ruthlessness he usually only reserves for lab readouts. Then a hand comes up to tilt Jim's head to a different angle before Bones's mouth crashes against his, similarly ruthless as it wrings the pleasure of him.
Jim can't help the moan that escapes because Bones uses teeth, and it's the best thing Jim has ever felt in his life.
Bones again proves that he's the sensible one between the two of them because he's the one that uses his hands on Jim's shoulder to separate them. Jim makes a noise in protest. "You have rotten timing, Jim," he tells him. When Jim doesn't seem to catch on, Bones rolls his eyes "We're standing in the middle of sickbay. Anyone could walk in on us."
Part of Jim wants not to care, but he's grown up too much in the past several months not to understand why the ship's captain shouldn't be caught making out with the chief medical officer. So he commands, "Computer, lock doors, authorization code Kirk Delta Blue."
"Better?" he asks as the doors slide shut, grinning as he pulls Bones back in.
"No," Bones tells him, although he doesn't pull away. He lets Jim trail his mouth over whatever skin he likes, his voice a pleasant rumble in his ear. "Chapel'll be knocking any minute and your Vulcan won't be far behind when he sees you've instated a medical lockdown."
Jim pushes Bones away a little so he can swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand. He doesn't let him get far, though, wrapping his arms around Bones as soon as he's upright. "Let him," he says, brushing his nose against Bones, half-playful, half-tender. It does strange things to Bones's eyes which, in turn, does strange things to Jim's stomach. It's a testament to how much more this is than just lust or loneliness -- which should scare the shit out of Jim, except it's Bones, so it doesn't. "Turnabout's fair play. It's Spock's turn to watch me get some action."
Bones is laughing as he stops the teasing with a firm kiss that Jim didn't know he had in him but is pleased to find he does. "You really are going to be the end of me," he mutters, almost to him. There's no heat to it, though, just affection, affection that's mirrored in the way Bones's hands pulls him even closer.
Still, Jim's had enough talk, so he mentally calculates how long they actually have before his first officer comes to investigate, then decides to distract Bones until then. It really won't hurt Spock to see a thing or two, after all.
When Bones lets him despite his amused opposition, Jim thinks that maybe he was wrong earlier. He must still have some luck on his side to discover this waiting for him, to be given this chance by whatever invisible hand guides the universe.
And if there's a price to pay for it, Jim is more than willing to pay it for the rest of the life.
Because that's just how long he plans on holding onto Bones.
The End.
Author's Notes: I was a complete K/S shipper when it comes to TOS, but nuTrek is all about the Jim/Bones. I've been told that part of this reads like I'm leaning toward some one-sided K/S but really I wasn't; Bones is such a jealous cuss and Spock's never had a friend before, LOL.
It's not until they've been on the job for eight months straight without a break that Jim realizes how fantastic shore leave really is. Fortunes align somewhere along the bureaucratic channels of Starfleet to give the ship a six-day furlough at a starbase with extensive tourist accommodations. The real reason for the stop is that that they're waiting for some parts that Scotty assures him he needs desperately if Jim wants the warp engines to work with any kind of reliability, but Jim doesn't see why they should waste the opportunity.
When even Spock agrees with his logic, Jim knows he's got a great idea on his hands.
The prospect of three days free of responsibility is more heady than Jim thought it would be, but it just goes to show him how much he needs the break. His first night on the planet, Jim does what he figures most of his crew will end up doing -- he goes in search of a good time and a willing bed partner. It doesn't take him long to find one in a Human botanist who came to the starbase for its network of cultivated gardens, but stays an extra night for the view of them from Jim's hotel suite. She's interesting and flexible, and they both enjoy themselves. The next morning they part pleasantly, Jim bidding her a farewell as she catches her transport.
What surprises Jim once she's gone is how empty the entire encounter feels in retrospect. Not that the sex wasn't great because it was, but thinking back on it gives him a vague sense of unease, like it was something he shouldn't done.
It's an entirely new reaction for Jim.
Looking for something to distract him, Jim goes in search of Bones, who's on the same shore leave rotation as he is. It takes him awhile, but he finally finds his friend relaxing by one of the complex's many outdoor pools interspersed throughout the gardens to soften its artificiality. Bones cuts a rather fetching figure, Jim notices, stretched out in a lounger in nothing but a pair of shorts. His eyes are closed, so Jim takes his chance to sneak up on him, dragging a chair closer before he announces his presence.
"Well, don't you look comfortable?"
Jim was hoping for a surprised squawk but instead Bones just lazily turns his head toward the noise and slowly lifts his eyelids. "Nice try, kid, but I could hear you coming a mile away."
Jim grins. "I thought you were asleep."
"It's called relaxin'," he tells him, so unwound his speech is following suit, it seems. "You should try it sometime."
Jim leans back in the chair to stretch his legs out in front of him. "Oh, I have."
Bones's gaze sharpens. "So you had a good night, huh?"
"Yeah," he admits, trying to ignore the strange unsettledness. "You know me."
Bones nods. "I sure do." He reaches beneath his chair and brandishes a portable medkit. Jim watches in confusion, wondering what his friend is up to, until he gets a hypospray in the neck.
"Bones!" He glares as he rubs the sore spot. "What the hell?"
"That should take care of any STDs you might've picked up last night," Bones tells him as he snaps the medkit closed and stows it under his chair once more. "I've got more if you get 'lucky' again."
Bones doesn't have to use his hands for Jim to hear the air quotes. "Jesus, warn a guy next time, why don't you?"
"Just looking out for you, Jimmy," Bones tells him, shooting him a strange look. He's seen it on occasion over the years of their friendship, most especially in their last year of academy. He's tried to form a theory but so far he hasn't figured out the common thread between each appearance. He adds this one to the mental tally and promises himself to think about it later.
"Anyway," Jim begins, still shooting Bones a wounded look. "What are your plans?"
"You're looking at 'em," Bones says. "Sun, water, peace and quiet."
"Heat, bugs?" Jim points out.
Bones nods, like Jim's agreeing with him. "Grand, right?"
"I'm going to go with no," he replies as he begins to rise from his chair. "You have fun."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Bones tells him. "As your doctor, I think it would do you a world of good to actually slow down for once instead of racing off to find some new way to get yourself into trouble."
Jim considers it for a minute, looking down at Bones's drowsy, relaxed face. There's nothing on his agenda other than wandering around the complex, and that's lost some of his shine since the night before. "Okay."
That, more than anything, catches Bones's attention. He sits up and squints at Jim in suspicion. "Okay?"
"Okay," Jim repeats. He replaces his chair with a lounger like Bones's, then kicks off his shoes and shucks his shirt before he settles into it, letting his eyes drift close. "I'm giving it a try."
He can feel Bones's eyes on him for a full minute while he rests calmly in the lounger, willing his twitchy limbs to relax. After another minute of silence, he's surprised by the feel of something hitting his stomach. When Jim jerks up in response, he finds it's a tube of ointment.
"You better use that if you're serious," Bones tells him. "Otherwise the UVs off that sun up there will fry you good."
His friend doesn't see the grin Jim shoots him in gratitude as he applies the protection, but it's there. Once he's all oily with lotion, Jim kicks back and tries to follow his friend's example. Jim has always had too much energy for restful relaxation and, since he got into the academy, his mind has usually been too busy for idleness. But he knows Bones is right about how he's been pushing himself since he became Captain, and he's willing to try anything once.
After an hour or so, Jim has to admit it's not bad. They're quiet more than they talk, but every so often they pick up a thread of conversation. More than anything it reminds him of their early days together at the academy, the way they kept each other company while they studied. It's the same kind of easy silence, and it starts to work its magic on Jim. The heat of the sun becomes welcome as it soaks into his bones, even the sweat beading on his skin isn't so bad when the cooler breeze from the water sweeps over him. He doesn't know if he could actually find so much peace in it without Bones there with him, but with his friend by his side, he passes a few hours in easy repose.
Before Jim knows it, it's time for lunch, which he and Bones have together at a small restaurant just outside of the hotel complex. After they're both full of delicious, non-replicated seafood, Jim decides a little payback is in order, so he drags Bones farther out into the city to a museum that the hotel mentioned in its brochures. From there, they somehow end up in one of those tourist-trap markets and Bones bitches about it the entire time, but still ends up buying several trinkets for friends and family on Earth.
Once they've spent their credits at the market, it's almost time for dinner. Bones tries to beg off after that, but Jim uses his not-inconsiderable charm to convince his friend to accompany him out to continue their exploration of the tourist district.
After the great time they have that day, it seems natural for Jim to fall in with Bones for their final day of shore leave. Before he knows it, they're packing up their bags and beaming back to the ship to relieve the next round of leave-bound crewman.
It's not until much, much later, as Jim is settling back into his quarters before his shift that he realizes that the strange uneasiness he felt the second morning never made another appearance, and neither did that strange look of Bones's. Jim can't explain the why of either of them, but he doesn't mind the mysteries now that they've passed.
All in all, he decides it was the best shore leave he could've had, even if he have a reason for any more hypos to the neck.
**
Leonard should've known it the first minute they met, but he didn't. And now it's taken him almost four years for him to realize a simple truth --
Jim Kirk is going to be the end of him.
As he realizes this, the captain and his away team have been missing for almost three days. It's not the first time and, if they make it back, Leonard is reasonably sure it won't be the last. But that knowledge doesn't ease the ache in his chest when he thinks about never seeing Jim again or soothe away the panic that possibility makes claw through him. He joked more than once that Jim was making go gray before his time, but he was beginning to think it was a definite possibility that Jim might induce a heart attack in him.
In more ways than one.
Underneath that truth is a more fundamental one, one he'd ignored pretty well since it had surprised him sometime during their third year in Academy. Somewhere along the way, Jim became more than just his unlikely new friend in Starfleet, even more than the shoulder to cry on as he worked through the last stages of grief for the death of his marriage. No, somewhere along the way Leonard McCoy did one of the stupidest things a man can do --
He fell for his brash, impulsive, genius idiot best friend.
Leonard thought it had been hard nursing this thing while being friends with Jim at school, watching him flit from girl to boy to girl while Leonard ground his teeth in silent frustration. He had almost gotten good at that as they neared graduation. But then he'd followed Jim out into space where he's been able to watch Jim grow into the great man he always knew waited inside the scared kid. It's also given him a first-hand view of every close call Jim's had since becoming captain and that's what's starting to wear thin on him. Leonard's not sure how many more times he can watch Jim go blithely into danger before he does something even stupider himself, like tell Jim how he feels.
The only thing worse than being ignored is being pitied; it's one of the things his divorce taught him well.
With Jim missing and Spock busy trying to figure out how to find him, Leonard's stuck in limbo, waiting for an answer that might not come. He doesn't dare go off-duty or leave the haven of his office where he knows Spock will search for him if they need him. He could go up to the bridge and worry with the rest of them but Leonard's always preferred to suffer in solitude if he can.
Leonard is still staring off into space as he has been doing for hours when he hears the sound of the sickbay doors sliding open and shut. He jumps to his feet to see who's come in.
"Doctor McCoy?" Spock calls out.
"Spock." Leonard rounds on him. "Any word?"
"I'm afraid not," Spock admits.
"Then what the hell are you doing down here?"
Spock looks uncomfortable, his eyes on everything but Leonard's face. "I had hoped perhaps for some...counsel."
"Counsel?" Leonard repeats. "About what?"
Spock finally gets enough to nerve to meet his eyes but he flinches at whatever he sees. Leonard wonders what's showing on his face to get that kind of reaction. "After a similar situation as this one in the past, the Captain informed me that you would be an ideal individual if I found myself needing advice while he was...unavailable. Despite my belief otherwise, I do find myself in need of it."
Leonard remembers a drunken conversation with Jim about emotional compromise and rocks. He curses under his breath. "You think I'm in any better shape than you? Jim's my best friend."
"I'm aware, Doctor," Spock tells him. "He is...significant to me as well."
It's the first time Leonard thinks Spock has ever admitted that out loud, but he doesn't want to be the Vulcan's poor imitation of a friend. He wants Jim back and he wants Spock to do his job and make it happen. But there's a part of him that can't help but reach out, even to Spock; it's probably the part of him that got him mixed up with Jim in the first place. He closes his eyes and prays. "Well, what can I say to help you, Spock?"
"I find myself at a loss about what to do next."
"Aren't we all?" Leonard knows how much it hurts Spock to make that admission, even if it's just to him, on Jim's orders. It also hurts to hear how very dire the situation is. "You gotta think like Jim would, Spock. That's how to figure this mess out."
"Our minds are complementary but not alike," he tells him, like Leonard doesn't know. "I find myself unable to replicate his way of thinking."
"You remember, the Maru hearing? The stuff he said about the rule book and throwing it out?" At Spock's tight nod, Bones continues. "You've got to throw out everything logical and look at what's illogical. Because if logical would've worked, you would've done it by now. So all we've got is what's left."
"That is..." Spock seems at a loss. "Unexpectedly logical."
"I have my moments," Bones replies. After a moment, he adds, "I am here if you need me. I'm half out of my mind with worry, but I'm here if you need to bounce ideas off someone."
"I appreciate that, Doctor," Spock tells him before glancing back toward the door. "I think I should return to the bridge."
Leonard waves him away. "Let me know if something changes."
Spock doesn't move. "I was hoping that you would join me. I may be in need of your unique perspective again."
Leonard huffs out something close to laugher at that. "Might as well. I ain't of much use down here."
In the end, it's a winning combination that brings Jim and the others back safely: Spock's logical application of illogic, Jim's limitless creativity under stress, and Leonard's stubborn belief that the two first will work at all. Spock doesn't even try to argue against his inclusion on the away team when they beam down to retrieve the battered away team, and not because the Vulcan knows a physician will come in handy.
Jim, of course, is in the worst shape of all because he always ends up putting himself in the most danger, and Leonard is happy to think about the lecture he plans to give him once he's patched up. He wants to be the one who carries his listless friend out of the little foxhole, but it makes much more sense to let Spock bear his weight with his superior Vulcan strength. Leonard contents himself with hovering anxiously with his medical tricorder and laying down cover fire when they encounter a few of the spear-wielding aliens that ambushed the team in the first place.
Once they reach the safety of the Enterprise, Leonard is the one in charge when it comes to Jim and he cracks out orders with every bit of the emotion he's bottled up over the last few days. Chapel is standing by in the transporter room with a gurney which Spock gently deposits Jim on. Then Leonard is having him rushed down to the sickbay where he can better figure out all the internal injuries Jim has probably managed to accrue.
With the machines busy computing all around him, Leonard knows he doesn't need to use his hands to figure anything out, but he can't help himself. His fingers brush over Jim's wrist, feeling the pulse beneath the skin, then slide across his forehead, an archaic way to feel for an elevated temperature. Jim's shirt is soiled, torn and useless, so Leonard strips him of it, cataloguing each splash of bruise across his chest first with his eyes, then his hands. Leonard is glad for the chirping of the monitors because they tell a much less severe story than Jim's body does, battered as it appears to his eyes. The worst of it is the concussion that's left him out cold, but the imaging tells Leonard that there's no lasting damage, although there may be some equilibrium problems for a few weeks. It's luckier than anyone has a right to be and it doesn't matter how many times Leonard witnesses it with his own eyes, he'll never trust that this won't be the time Jim is finally out of luck.
A few hyposprays quickly mitigate the symptoms -- pain, inflammation, infection. Jim's not awake to bitch about Leonard's bedside manner or the sting of the shots. Once Jim's breathing has eased under the medications' liquid comfort, Leonard can't resist reaching out again, leaning down to touch his forehead to Jim's. He takes his own comfort from the touch, from the feel of each breath against his cheek, his hand tangled, ever so briefly, in Jim's wild hair.
"You've gotta stop doing this to me, Jim," he whispers between them, a secret Jim won't know he's shared once he wakes up. "I'm not actually a goddamn rock, you know."
"Dr. McCoy?"
Spock's voice is as hesitant as Leonard's ever heard him but the doctor still snaps up, away from Jim.
"What do you want, Spock?" he asks, pretending to busy himself with the readouts on Jim's monitors, though he's got them memorized by now.
"I wanted a status report on the Captain's condition," he explains.
"He'll be fine in a few days," Leonard answers. "Lots of bruising which is gonna hurt like hell, but the concussion is really the worst of it."
Spock nods, then looks around as if he's just noticed the lack of other personnel in this part of sickbay. "Are you not going off duty now?"
Leonard frowns. "Of course not, why would you think that?"
"Because from my estimation, you've been on duty 18.4 hours now, and you have not slept for 27.7 hours. Humans are not capable of sustaining such a pace. And now that the Captain..."
"This human is capable of whatever he damn well pleases," Leonard informs him. "I'm staying here."
"Doctor..."
"Spock." He's not loud, but the name is sharp on his tongue, sharp enough to stop the Vulcan's speech. "I'm not leaving him."
There is some spark of emotion in those dark eyes, but it passes too quickly for Leonard to catch it. Still Spock nods again. "Of course."
Leonard barely notices the soft farewell when the first officer leaves him alone with his patient. He's far too focused on Jim, on everything about him he feared he'd never experience again.
As he keeps his vigil in the dim quiet of the sickbay, Leonard knows he's the damn fool for caring so much in the first place, but he also knows he couldn't stop now, not even if he tried.
**
Despite what Bones says loudly and emphatically every time he wakes up in the sickbay, Jim doesn't look for, ask for or seek out trouble. He certainly doesn't purposefully get himself tossed around by aliens with superior strength (except that time with Spock, but that was completely different) and he never wants to be shot, stabbed, bruised, or injured in any way.
The fact that it happens so often is just proof that there's a cosmic balance in play. Jim's had a lot of luck come his way in the last year or so, so it makes sense he's got to pay it back somehow.
As long as he doesn't actually die, Jim figures it's an even trade.
So while Jim never wants to get hurt, he has to admit that there's one thing he likes about it, at least once the pain is gone and his presence in the sickbay is mostly based on medical paranoia, and it's the way that Bones, once he's done with all the griping, takes care of him.
Jim's never had a lot of coddling in his life. Winona Kirk still doesn't have a motherly bone in her body, despite giving birth to two sons, and Jim wasn't close to anyone else, except his brother, who learned everything he knew about care-giving from the example set by his mother and her second husband. It really wasn't until he took up with Bones, who hid his soft heart beneath a rather gruff exterior, that Jim even had someone even try to take care of him. Even though he would never admit it to anyone, he secretly revels in it.
But Bones has been a little standoffish this time around, and Jim can't help but wonder why. Not that he hasn't been concerned -- it's there, in his troubled eyes and pinched-looking frown -- but he's kept his distance. Jim doesn't understand it and he's not sure how to ask for it, or even what he would ask for if he did.
By the time he's being discharged to continue his recuperation in his quarters, he can't shake the feeling that something is desperately wrong with Bones. He can't put his finger on what, but he's not acting like the Bones Jim is used to, which is causing klaxons to sound in his head.
Jim is supposed to be sitting in his biobed in sickbay working out the problem while he waits for his discharge but the painkillers he's taking have never been his favorite, so what he ends up doing is falling into a light doze. It's not bad because, in that sleepy twilight, he's still aware enough to sense Bones at his side. Just standing there beside him Bones is a comfort, but then Jim feels Bones's fingers brush against his, a light, lingering touch that they've never shared before. Jim swears that just before he jolts awake he feels those same fingers brush against the hair that spills across his forehead.
Not that he'll never know for sure because when he opens his eyes and blinks against the medicinal haze, Bones's arms are crossed as he watches him. "Bones?"
"Who else?" Bones asks with a snort. "I've finally got everything squared away, so you can go back to your quarters. Do you need some help?"
Jim shakes his head, but it's less an answer and more an attempt to clear his head.
Bones takes it for an answer, though, and keeps talking. "Remember what I said about your equilibrium, okay? Don't be --"
"Bones." Jim reaches out and returns the gesture he thinks he felt earlier, trailing the tips of his fingers over Bones's. It works because Bones's mouth snaps shut, eyes staring down at where Jim touches him until he reluctantly pulls away. "What's wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me?" Bones asks. "You're the one with the concussion and the bruised ribs and the ---"
"You've been acting weird, ever since this last mission," Jim points out. "What gives?"
"Just had some stuff on my mind is all," he tells him, then shoots him a look. "Like how I'm going to keep you from getting yourself killed before you hit the year mark on your captaincy. At this rate, you might make it a year and a half if you're lucky."
"Oh, I'm lucky," Jim assures him, thinking of his own theories on the subject. "But you don't have to worry about me, Bones. A mishap or two isn't that big a deal."
"Have you actually read your medical report?" Bones asks, waving around his PADD. "It reads like a medical encyclopedia for every injury a man can sustain without maiming or killing himself in the process."
Jim can't help but grin because this was what he was looking for, not Bones being all professional and polite. That's not the Bones he knows and it's certainly not the Bones he wants. "Is that concern I detect in your voice, Doctor?"
That earns him a glare. "Just because I'm not wound-up like one of those damn antique clocks you like so much doesn't mean I'm not concerned."
"I know, Bones, I'm just teasing," he tells him. "I know you can't help but let yourself worry a little every now and then."
"Jim, I worry about you every goddamn minute of every day," he tells him. While he speaks, he settles on the edge of biobed, letting it bear some of it weight while he pins Jim with a look. "In fact, if I keep on like I've been, I'm not going to have to worry about gray hair because the stress is gonna get me long before I ever see 40."
Everything about the remark is so Bones; the casual profanity, the gruffness, the sincerity beneath it all. It lights Jim up from the inside in a way he's never noticed before, pleasure spreading from a pool in his gut to warm his entire body. Jim never tires of that feeling, either, the one that he gets when Bones looks at him like he does now, a familiar mix of exasperation and affection. It's a thread that runs through a lot of the past year or two, just bubbling under the surface.
It hits Jim like lightning just then, that he's had it all wrong. It hasn't been that Bones has been acting any differently in the last few days, it's been that Jim wants more of it, more of Bones, more of whatever that feeling is that he realizes only Bones has ever stirred in him. It's such a tangled feeling, a component of so many other ones -- comfort, security, that scary rush of fondness when he's not expecting it, and even a heat that he's easily ignored in favor of their friendship they've made.
It should scare Jim that it's taken a year for him to place it or that it's only hit him in the last minute or so, but it doesn't because he's pretty sure he sees an answering emotion in Bones's eyes and has been for a while. Jim's just been too busy to notice.
"Bones," he says, wishing he could express everything with a single word. He can't, of course, and Bones gives him a quizzical look, waiting patiently for an explanation Jim can't actually find the words for. So he relies on action instead.
It shows how much trust is between them that Bones doesn't pull away as Jim leans in, just keeps waiting, and Jim shamelessly presses his advantage. The first touch of his lips to Bones's is electric, something he's never thought about really but something he knows he's been wanting for longer than he cares to think about. He's a beat into the contact, ready to deepen it past a mere meeting of mouths when he feels Bones tense as if he wants to pull away. Jim's stubborn, though, even in this, so he keeps up the gentle assault with his lips while his hands come to trace down Bones's crossed arms, carefully pulling them out of their defensive position.
Somewhere along with the way, Bones starts to respond.
The next thing Jim knows, their tangled hands rest in his lap as they continue the kiss, which grows more and more heated by the second. When it starts to get really interesting is when Bones comes to his senses, pulling away so they can both pant for the breath they've denied themselves.
"Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought," Bones manages to say between ragged breaths.
"Bones, no," Jim protests. He tightens his fingers around Bones's just so the doctor doesn't get any ideas about pulling away. "I can't believe you want to blame this on a head injury."
He's gentle about it, but Bones does start to extract his hands from Jim's grip. "There's a better explanation?"
"Yes," Jim tells him emphatically. "It's because I finally figured it out. What it means that you're my rock." That earns him a little burst of amusement. "What it means that I worry you into premature graying, and that I know I couldn't do this captain thing without you, not in a million years."
He can tell Bones wants to believe him; it's written across his face in a stark, painful way that makes something constrict in Jim's chest. He wonders how he's missed it for so long when it's been staring him in the face. "You could," Bones tells him. "Don't sell yourself short."
"Maybe I could," Jim concedes. He leans in a little before he speaks again, like he's sharing an important secret. And, really, he is. "But I wouldn't want to. Not without you here with me."
It's hardly a declaration of undying devotion (though coming from him, Jim supposes, it's close) but it causes Bones's sharp-eyed gaze to search his face with a ruthlessness he usually only reserves for lab readouts. Then a hand comes up to tilt Jim's head to a different angle before Bones's mouth crashes against his, similarly ruthless as it wrings the pleasure of him.
Jim can't help the moan that escapes because Bones uses teeth, and it's the best thing Jim has ever felt in his life.
Bones again proves that he's the sensible one between the two of them because he's the one that uses his hands on Jim's shoulder to separate them. Jim makes a noise in protest. "You have rotten timing, Jim," he tells him. When Jim doesn't seem to catch on, Bones rolls his eyes "We're standing in the middle of sickbay. Anyone could walk in on us."
Part of Jim wants not to care, but he's grown up too much in the past several months not to understand why the ship's captain shouldn't be caught making out with the chief medical officer. So he commands, "Computer, lock doors, authorization code Kirk Delta Blue."
"Better?" he asks as the doors slide shut, grinning as he pulls Bones back in.
"No," Bones tells him, although he doesn't pull away. He lets Jim trail his mouth over whatever skin he likes, his voice a pleasant rumble in his ear. "Chapel'll be knocking any minute and your Vulcan won't be far behind when he sees you've instated a medical lockdown."
Jim pushes Bones away a little so he can swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand. He doesn't let him get far, though, wrapping his arms around Bones as soon as he's upright. "Let him," he says, brushing his nose against Bones, half-playful, half-tender. It does strange things to Bones's eyes which, in turn, does strange things to Jim's stomach. It's a testament to how much more this is than just lust or loneliness -- which should scare the shit out of Jim, except it's Bones, so it doesn't. "Turnabout's fair play. It's Spock's turn to watch me get some action."
Bones is laughing as he stops the teasing with a firm kiss that Jim didn't know he had in him but is pleased to find he does. "You really are going to be the end of me," he mutters, almost to him. There's no heat to it, though, just affection, affection that's mirrored in the way Bones's hands pulls him even closer.
Still, Jim's had enough talk, so he mentally calculates how long they actually have before his first officer comes to investigate, then decides to distract Bones until then. It really won't hurt Spock to see a thing or two, after all.
When Bones lets him despite his amused opposition, Jim thinks that maybe he was wrong earlier. He must still have some luck on his side to discover this waiting for him, to be given this chance by whatever invisible hand guides the universe.
And if there's a price to pay for it, Jim is more than willing to pay it for the rest of the life.
Because that's just how long he plans on holding onto Bones.
The End.
Author's Notes: I was a complete K/S shipper when it comes to TOS, but nuTrek is all about the Jim/Bones. I've been told that part of this reads like I'm leaning toward some one-sided K/S but really I wasn't; Bones is such a jealous cuss and Spock's never had a friend before, LOL.