Dr. Leonard McCoy has left the Enterprise. (just_bones) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-05-21 15:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, james kirk, leonard mccoy |
WHO: Leonard “Bones” McCoy and James T. Kirk
WHERE: McCoy’s Apartment
WHEN: Backdated May 16, 2013.
WHAT: Jim and Bones react to Star Trek Into Darkness
RATING: Medium for language and suggestion.
STATUS: Complete.
WARNINGS: This post contains spoilers for Star Trek Into Darkness.
He went at midnight, stuffed between diehard fans and people dragged along for the ride. It was amazing what a hoodie, slouching down and sitting off in the corner could do to hide your identity. The movie was met with excitement and glee from everyone in the theater except him. In a removed sort of way he could appreciate the entertainment value of what was being seen, but that logic was buried under each crippling second of that movie. He spent the entirety of the film with his fists clenched tight, knuckles white and half moon crescents spotted with blood in his palm. He wanted to get up and leave. He wanted to walk away and stay ignorant of his fate but he didn’t. That was his crew. That was going to be his life. He forced himself to keep his eyes opened and focused straight, even when his stomach clenched tight and his eyes misted with tears he refused to wipe away from under the 3D glasses. When the film was over he walked numbly over to a diner open all night. He wasn’t sure how long he was there, sipping at cold coffee and pushing around food he didn’t remember ordering. Several times the waitress asked him if he was alright but all he could do was smile sadly and say it was fine. He knew that he’d have to go back to the tower. He would need to speak with his crew. With Pike. Yet as he left the diner he kept walking until it neared nine and another show was playing. He watched the film again, leaving the theater only to immediately buy a ticket for the next show. Each time he watched the film intently, analyzing every single detail. He watched his failures unfold again and again. Watched his crew sucked out into space, slipping from his hands, dying because his reckless attitude had been manipulated and used so easily. If only he had figured things out sooner, if only he could be more analytical like Spock. Fucking Spock with his anger and his brilliance capturing a man with fury and strategy. There was no doubt he had the best possible crew and had won in the end, but at what cost? The walk back to the Tower was slow. It had been 36 hours since he last slept but it felt like longer. He felt as if he had been in the battle itself, his body tired and drained, his mind going a million different directions and none of them good. He needed to see Bones. Bones. That brilliant dedicated man doing experiments in the middle of an attack. That cheeky doctor flirting with the blond weapons experiment. The man who saved his life. He had watched himself die. Had understood the fear behind his own eyes projected on the large screen. He didn’t know exactly what he was thinking as he lay there dying, but he had a guess. He had died to save his ship. He had died to save his family. He had died scared and alone, separated by a glass door that kept others out. It was so fucking perfect that it made him sick. The first time he watched his death he was screaming on the inside for Bones to arrive. Bones should be there. He needed Bones to be there. The second time he was glad Bones wasn’t there. If he had died, if it had been real then he didn’t want the other man seeing him so scared and weak. He wouldn’t have had the words to say what he meant to him. He wouldn’t have admitted it to himself, not even then. Their relationship at home wasn’t what it was here. Maybe it couldn’t be. Not when he was captain and had to make those calls. Not when he had to put the ship first. The third time he watched it he could only feel sorry for himself, because he knew that one day he would realize how his father had felt when he sacrificed himself to save his family. Because his father was afraid when the explosion took him, only there was no magical blood to bring him back. He entered Bones’ apartment in a daze. “Bones?” His voice was weak and broken, but it had taken all of his strength to say. Leonard had barely slept on Wednesday night, which was a feat in and of itself because life at a hospital had taught him to sleep on command, and he’d always enjoyed a catnap whenever he had time. At one point in the night-- with his head sandwiched between a couple of pillows to block any source of light (especially the goddamn digital clock on his bedside table) and the ambient noise of the building around him-- Leonard finally gave up the ghost and got himself out of bed. He knew where Jim was-- out with however many thousands of others seeing not just their movie, but seeing how their lives were going to play out when they got home. McCoy understood why he wanted to be alone, he didn’t want to be with the others during that experience either, but he was beginning to regret his decision to avoid the midnight show. After scanning his tablet for showtimes and finding that he’d have to wait at least six more hours to get to a theater (because 4am showtimes didn’t seem incredibly popular), he decided to bide his time in the gym. Anything to help him deal with the nervous state he’d worked himself into, and he wasn’t just going to sit around his apartment for the next few hours. It worked for a couple of hours, so well that Leonard managed to burn off enough steam so that he crashed into sleep on the lumpy sofa back at his apartment. Once he woke up, he comforted himself with the menial task of frying bacon and eggs over the stove, making too much food for just himself, but he ate most of it anyway. Leftovers were tucked back into the refrigerator for Spock or Jim to find later, and then he pitched himself into the shower. He fell back onto routine when he was stressed or felt like things had been falling apart-- it had been a detrimental behavior in his marriage, but now Leonard felt himself clinging to those automatic motions. However, there was only so much time one could waste while lacing up his shoes, so soon Leonard was dressed as nondescriptly as he could be, and then he was on his way to the theater. There was a moment-- a horrifying moment-- where Leonard thought that he’d been recognized, when the hooded sweatshirt had betrayed his identity instead of concealing it, but it was fleeting as the young girl who had stared at him approached another person who was part of the crowd off to his side. He hated this. He hated the air of excitement that surrounded him, he hated all of these people and their buzz of chatter as they filed into the theater. He hated the way that the theater smelled, he hated the way that his shoes felt like they were sticking to the floor beneath him. He hated the fact that his life was a source of entertainment in this universe. Before McCoy could continue his musings about how much he despised his surroundings, the lights around him went dark, and the screen before him filled with light. Leonard felt an impossible surge of emotion as the events on screen unfolded-- fear, frustration, anger, joy, curiosity, regret for the generously portioned breakfast he’d hastily eaten. Goddamn the admiralty, McCoy knew that he was going to be sick. But all of that-- Marcus, Khan, those 72 warheads, that impossible starship and section 31-- paled in comparison to watching Jim lock himself inside the warp core so he could fix it. McCoy wanted to turn away and hide his face, he couldn’t watch this, he wasn’t supposed to see this, nobody was, but then the anger took hold. He wanted to scream at the movie in front of him, he wanted to scream at Jim, to pull him out of all that radiation, he wanted to know how Spock and Scotty and Uhura could all just stand there, watching Jim die inside of the ship’s core after what he’d done for them when he would have done the exact opposite. He wanted to know why nobody called him there, but he knew he’d already answered that question for himself. The Leonard on the screen was much like him-- he knew he would’ve done everything in his power to tear open that hatch and get to Jim-- but at the same time, their circumstances were so very different. Whatever had developed between them in this universe hadn’t happened with them in the universe they’d come from. While the realization wasn’t startling, Leonard was still jarred by the entire impossibility that he was sitting in a theater, not a starship, watching Jim Kirk die of radiation poisoning. And there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. His first instinct was to leave the theater while he could still walk himself to the nearest toilet-- at least then he wouldn’t feel so completely helpless. But instead he found himself frozen in his seat, watching himself open the body bag that contained his, more than just his captain, his Jim. Leonard crumpled, just the way that the version of himself on the screen did. And barely a second later, the entire mood had shifted, the version of himself on the screen had lurched into action, fighting off goddamn death as he ordered Jim to be stuffed into one of Khan’s stasis modules. He was overwhelmed, his mood instantly shifting although the tears continued to stream down his face-- he remembered the tribble he’d hastily injected, although the film hadn’t followed much of his experiments during the crisis. All of the shit he’d dealt with in his life-- being too young at Ole Miss, medical school, losing his father, wrecking his marriage, the goddamn Starfleet Academy, the Narada-- all of it was worth it in that moment. Leonard’s hands shook from how tightly he’d clenched his fists, and suddenly all of that tension was gone. Khan had laid waste to so much, ended, ruined, and destroyed so many lives in his wake, but Leonard’s thoughts weren’t clouded with them-- he couldn’t do it yet because his crew, his people, his family, they were all alive and well. That was the only thought Leonard had as he left the theater and headed to the bathroom where he was promptly sick. The walk back to Potts Tower took him a long time. Leonard knew that he passed by it a couple of times, but he meandered through the streets. He’d seen so much of his life change over the course of the last two hours, but here he was, picking his way through the streets of a city he barely knew. Leonard wandered for a while before he decided he could handle being back at the apartment. He was starting to get hungry again, and while he wasn’t counting on Jim showing up anytime soon, he wanted to be there when he did. After he’d eaten a sandwich, Leonard set up vigil in the kitchen, waiting to see if Jim would show up there. He could have easily sent him a message, but Leonard knew that he needed his time. He himself didn’t want anybody pestering him about the movie or how many lives it had changed, he wasn’t interested in doing it to Jim, either. So he set about distracting himself with contemporary medical journals, even if Leonard acknowledged that the reading wasn’t doing him any good. Soon after sundown, the door to the apartment creaked open, and he knew that it was finally Jim. Leonard left his spot at the kitchen table, and while his first instinct was to go to Jim, wrap his arms around him and squeeze and never let him go, Leonard hesitated. “I’m glad you’re here, Jim,” he said, voice breaking all wrong at the sight of him, his Jim. “Me too,” he said weakly, trying to find a smile but failing in the attempt. He should be dead back home. He should be buried or burned, a name on a memorial plaque next to his father’s but this man here had defied the only certainty in life to bring him back. He stood there tired and broken, but so full of emotion he thought he might burst. He wasn’t sure how he was looking at Bones, whether it be with gratitude or amazement, but none of it compared to the realization that he loved this man. He had loved him for years, as a friend and as a companion. As the one constant he could always depend on. This man. This fucking perfect man. He had almost lost him. He had almost gotten him and everyone else killed and standing here in this furnished apartment in an alternate universe it was all too much. With four long strides he reached the other man, pulling him towards him in a tight hug. Their bodies collided hard and it wasn’t long before Jim had buried his face in the other man’s neck, clinging to him as if he was his future self being flung around a falling ship. “You did good,” he finally said, easing off from his bruising hold. “You did real good.” There was probably more he should say to the man that would save his life, but in this moment it was all he had. There were times when McCoy could very clearly read Jim’s mind, when he knew what Jim wanted to do and how he felt, but now was not one of those times. He was exhausted that was for sure, Leonard wondered what he’d put himself through during the day. But what were you supposed to do after you watched yourself and your crew on your starship endure yet another tragedy? Luckily Jim was walking toward him, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his face into the crook of Leonard’s neck like it belonged there before McCoy had the time to think about just how far out of his own depth he was. “So did you, Jim,” he replied, squeezing Jim just as tightly. Leonard raised a hand to the back of Jim’s neck, keeping him close. He felt like he was breathing for the first time since he’d seen that movie, like he hadn’t known that Jim was whole and well until he got to touch him. “I was so proud of you,” Leonard said. Granted, he hadn’t been just proud, he’d been angry as hell and so full of love, but he knew that he loved Jim because he was the person who could and would make those sacrifices for the people he loved. “Goddamn, Jim,” he breathed, pulling the other man back into him. Of all the things he expected Bones to say that wasn’t it. There were very few times anyone had ever said they were proud of him and they usually followed the world almost ending. It was an unfortunate pattern. Jim didn’t put up any resistance as Bones pulled him closer, his fingers finding their way under the hem of Leonard’s shirt to feel skin. He needed the reminder that they were here and safe. The whole experience had him out of sorts but in this moment he felt closer to the ground. “At least we have a few more years until another sequel.” It was a weak joke, one that fell flat as he continued to hang on the other man. He let out a hollow laugh, dropping his forehead onto Bones’ shoulder. He was going to have to face Pike. He was going to have to face all of them. At least now Christine knew why they weren’t showing her. He hadn’t sent a girl running to deep space before. “Fuck, Bones. I just...fuck.” He wish he had the words. He wish he had anything to put this in perspective. “We lost so many. We’re going to go back and lost so many and I can’t stop it.” Leonard tipped Jim’s head back, forcing the other man to look him in the eye. “Don’t do that, don’t you dare do that to yourself. Those lives are on Marcus and Khan, not you.” He was vehement in his assertions. “You did everything, everything that you could for us, for everybody, gave it all up until you were in a bag on my slab and--” Leonard’s voice broke. He couldn’t help how quickly the anger and the sadness and all the love he held in his aching heart had poured forth when he had Jim in his arms to hold again. He was quivering, and while McCoy hated how quickly his emotions were fluctuating, he couldn’t help himself. His thumbs carefully traced Jim’s cheekbones. “You can’t think that you didn’t do enough because you put your life on the line, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s one precious commodity,” he said. He felt like he needed to say more, but Leonard wasn’t egotistical enough to think that his words could erase all of the ill or inadequate feelings that were coursing through Jim. “I don’t know what I would’ve done, Jim, if you hadn’t--” And Leonard couldn’t even give voice to the selfish thought of what his life would have been like without Jim in it. Logically he knew that Bones was right, but he had never been one to follow logic. If he had figured out the trap sooner, Pike would be alive. If he hadn’t trusted that admiral piece of shit, more of his crew might still be able to go home. Maybe he helped save some, but he was responsible for them all. “I did. I did, Bones,” he said softly, looking Bones square in the eye. “You saved me. You brought me back.” It was strange knowing you should have died. Knowing that you did die. Bones had been able to think through his grief. If he hadn’t it would have been a much different ending. “You saved me,” he repeated, needing to say it over and over so he could finally believe. It had nearly crushed him to watch Bones’ reaction to his body. Already stinging with the sight of his demise it had been another heavy blow. It was one of the scenes that hurt more with each viewing. “We’re okay.” “I only got the chance because of what you did, because you saved the ship at the rest of us,” Leonard replied. He was sure that he’d never get that point through Jim’s thick skull, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying. If anything, Leonard’s purpose and resolve had been made perfectly clear during the course of that movie. Jim would do what he needed to do, what he called himself to do, and Leonard would always be there to put him back together so that he could do it all over again. And Leonard needed to do that, needed to know that was his purpose as much as he needed Jim himself. “You have too many great and good things to do to let a little thing like dying get in the way,” Leonard added. He raised one of Jim’s hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to his palm. Hearing Jim’s confirmation, yes, they were okay (at least in the sense that they weren’t dead yet) was comforting, although it didn’t have the same impact on Leonard as holding him in his arms, whole and real and alive. That was all he felt that he needed right now. James could keep arguing with him. Remind him that if he hadn’t fallen for the trap they wouldn’t have been out there in the first place. He didn’t want to fight, not after what he just witnessed. His demons would wait for him when he was alone with his thoughts. Perhaps he shouldn’t be sharing this at all. It was an odd line walking between captain and Jim, but the starship wasn’t here and he needed the man in front of him. He couldn’t go through this alone, not this time. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to lay down for a bit? I’m exhausted and if I don’t lay down soon you’ll be dragging me off the floor.” “You didn’t need to breathe a word to convince me of that,” Leonard replied. He’d worry about getting some food-- real food-- into Jim after he’d had some time to rest. For now, making sure that he got some sleep was Leonard’s priority. “Come on, let me tuck you in,” he added, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. While he had barely been able to sleep the night before, scared and anxious and alone as he was, at least he now knew that the people he cared for had come through relatively safe. His heart was still heavy with the loss-- he knew that Jim’s was as well-- but the best cure for that was time and understanding, and right now, he knew they were both in greater need of sleep. It was a slow walk to Bones’ room. He thought of all the things he should be doing first. A shower would wait and so would food. He’d hate to drown in either when he knew the bed was calling him first. He flopped on the bed, kicking off his shoes only once he was down and not bothering with the rest. When Leonard was finished getting ready he pulled him in, curling against his backside. His arm snaked around him to lock him in close, needing the contact to be able to sleep. Leonard was his buoy and he was holding on for dear life. Sleep came quickly but it was far from peaceful. It wasn’t that he had nightmares exactly, more memories of what had happened. Could they be memories if you watched them on screen? He wasn’t sure, but they felt real all the same. When he awoke it was with a fine line of sweat pooling at his back. He slept at all which was a testament to his trust in Bones, but not even that was enough to leave the thoughts of yesterday behind him. With Bones still sleeping he kissed his shoulder and eased out of bed with the silent practice of a man who had done it many times before. Unlike those times he stayed, helping himself to Bones’ shower and clothes. With his hair still wet and the day slowly sinking in he slipped back to the room, finding his way by Leonard’s side once again. “Morning.” A frown pulled unconsciously at the corners of Leonard’s mouth as he felt Jim slip out of bed, but the man himself was still dead to the world, sleeping hard and fast. However, Jim’s movement around the apartment-- the open and shut of a door, the turn of the bathroom taps, the shuffle of clean clothes being pulled on-- gradually brought Leonard back into the world. Vague memories of the previous day filtered back to him in the form of his feelings rather than particular instances. He remembered feeling hatefully angry, lost and adrift, then the overwhelming joy that filled his heart, and finally some relief as a semblance of normalcy descended upon him the night before when Jim had turned up at his apartment. Jim had fallen into bed head first, still in his street clothes and shoes, and Leonard remembered grumbling half-heartedly as he’d donned the t-shirt and sweatpants he wore for sleeping. He’d planned on pulling Jim in close, shielding him from whatever the night brought on, once he climbed into bed himself, but Jim had other ideas. As soon as Leonard hit the mattress, there was Jim contouring to his back, gripping him steadfast and tight in a way that Leonard could only love. McCoy sighed contentedly as Jim slipped back into bed, muttering un-intelligently in response to Jim’s greeting. Leonard raised his arms above his head, banging one of his wrists against the headboard as he stretched-- he was awake, but he wasn’t ready to leave the sanctuary of his bed yet. He carefully opened his eyes, glad that sunlight wasn’t streaming so brightly into his room, although he was immediately pleased by the sight of Jim (or as pleased as Leonard McCoy could be when roused from a good night’s rest) still damp from the shower and clad in too big clothes which meant that they’d come from Leonard’s wardrobe. “C’mere,” Leonard ordered, although he wasn’t sure how effective it would be due to the yawn that had presented itself once he’d opened his mouth. “You’re bossy in the morning,” he teased, sliding under the covers and taking a majority of them in the process. Despite the sleep and the shower there was still a lingering tension that refused to go away. He knew he would need to talk to Pike at some point. He wouldn’t probably need to talk to all of them. For the moment, he couldn’t imagine leaving this bed again. As long as he was here he could ignore everything out there for a moment longer. “I slept like a brick.” Which was mostly true. It was funny how even after all that sleep he still felt exhausted. “How about you? I bothered some clothes. Didn’t think you would mind too much.” “Should’ve thought about that before you woke me up,” Leonard pointed out in return. He groaned as Jim stole the sheets, immediately curling into himself at the loss of warmth. McCoy wouldn’t have traded anything for Jim’s company at that point, but he was still groggy and trying to wake up, and he couldn’t help it if his instincts had him frowning and searching for his corner of the blanket. “I can see that you borrowed my clothes, don’t mind much at all.” Leonard tugged absently at the collar of the shirt Jim had thrown on, knowing that at one point or another it’d probably wind up back on the floor of his bedroom. “I’m not ready for it to be today,” Leonard answered softly once he’d found purchase on one of his blankets. He tugged it up to his chin, considered pulling it up over his head before he decided to press his face into Jim’s neck instead. “How’re you feeling?” he asked as one of his arms tentatively looped around Jim’s waist. Jim couldn’t help but smile at how grumpy Bones was being. With the man’s face buried in his neck, he wrapped heavy arm around him to pull him in closer. His chin rested on the ruffled hair below him and for a moment he could feel content. How was he feeling? An odd sort of numb, as if he was pushing reality out and refusing to let it in this room. He knew he would have to face it eventually, but Jim was adept at compartmentalizing what he didn’t want to deal with until he had a strategy. He always had a strategy, except when he didn’t and he feared this was one of those time. “I feel like I’m not leaving this bed all morning. And I’m not going to let you out either.” He held on just a little bit tighter, angling his head to plant a soft kiss on the top of Bones’ head. “How about you?” Leonard breathed softly as the silence stretched between them. Jim's silence was telling, and Leonard knew that the wheels were turning in his brain, searching for an answer. He wanted to press, wanted to demand more, it was always his first instinct to let his mouth carry him away. But Leonard waited, languid in the hold Jim had on him. He didn't want to face all of the facts, either, how could he have those expectations for Jim? "I think I could get on board with that idea," he replied, voice muffled because his face was still pressed into the crook of Jim's neck. It didn't matter that he clearly had no interest in leaving bed, either. "Am I to assume that you woke me up just to tell me that you want to stay in bed this morning?" Leonard teased as he drew back to get a good look at Jim. “You wouldn’t want me to get bored, would you?” Being left alone with his thoughts was the last thing he needed. Maybe he should have let Bones sleep in, but he was selfish enough to seek his attention. “I’m sure I can make it up to you,” he added, raking his fingernails lightly over the other man’s back. Bringing his hand up, he forced Bones to tilt his chin up, leaning over to kiss him despite the awkward angle. As much as Jim had avoided thinking about the subject, there was no denying that moments like this were limited. One day they would be sent home. He didn’t know if this would form back home, but it was hard to imagine it would. He had seen what a sacrifice play had done to his mother. He knew what it had done to him. He had sworn to himself long ago to never do that to someone else. Maybe he could have the ship and have Bones, or maybe he was only being a reckless fool yet again. Leonard huffed out a laugh at Jim’s question. “Is that a threat?” he asked teasingly. Most of the people who knew Jim Kirk also knew that a bored Jim Kirk had the potential to become a very dangerous entity. So, Leonard was really doing the entire universe a service by keeping Jim occupied from the safe confines of his bed. “Or more of a promise?” Leonard asked, smiling as Jim’s mouth sought out his own. If he retained any memories of their time here after they went back to the Enterprise, Leonard would sorely miss mornings like these. Even if all of it was just a distraction, a very welcome distraction to keep their thoughts present and away from the events of the future, Leonard felt that these moments they had together were very precious. If nothing else, the film had provided indisputable evidence of just how far Jim would go for his crew, for the ship, and Leonard found it incredibly admirable as well as endlessly frightening. It was a strange juxtaposition of feelings, to love somebody so deeply because of his willingness to sacrifice himself in such a necessary yet devastating matter. Leonard nearly snorted at how ridiculous the notion was, how yet another vicious cycle had developed in his life. Of course he would possess a constant and abiding love for somebody who would throw himself into harm’s way to protect others, for somebody who would always see himself broken and beaten before anybody else, for somebody who would always come back to Leonard to be repaired and healed and loved. Such went the luck of one Leonard H. McCoy, but he wouldn’t change a damn thing about Jim or his feelings for him. Leonard was in possession of a mile-wide masochistic streak, but even he had to acknowledge his own boundaries and limitations. As faithful and long-suffering as he was, he didn’t know how long his heart could suffer the combined tolls of deep space and his love for Jim. Leonard wasn’t sure if he could rise to the challenge of testing himself like that, not when that sort of all-consuming love had already beaten and bruised and worn him down to nearly nothing once before. Not when he’d worked so hard to raise his own goddamn defenses so that he could defy those vulnerabilities. But here, where he was just a doctor like he’d always wanted to be, and where Jim was a pilot, there was no goddamn Enterprise and the ones that existed were toys, Leonard dove head-first into all of the risks. He knew that he could always trust Jim with himself, but here and now, he felt like he could trust Jim (and in part himself) with his heart. Leonard held on tight. |