Dr. Leonard McCoy has left the Enterprise. (just_bones) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-06-13 17:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, james kirk, leonard mccoy |
WHO: Leonard “Bones” McCoy and James T. Kirk
WHERE: Jim’s Apartment.
WHEN: Thursday evening, June 13th, 2013.
WHAT: What starts as a discussion of ethical questions raised by Star Trek Into Darkness turns into a conversation about the future.
RATING: Low-- some language.
STATUS: Complete.
Jim was at a strange point in his life. For the first time in his existence things seemed to be sitting still. There was no real going forward, not when his time here was an anomaly that would end with no more warning than when it began. Jim always had a plan, even if it only took him through the next few hours. He was a determined vagabond, no destination in sight but with the push of the journey egging him on. His life here was without real purpose. He wandered through it waiting for something to happen but without the means to make it do so. It wasn’t that he was bored necessarily. Work with SHIELD was entertaining enough, but it wasn’t the fulfillment of captaining his own ship. For months he had the impending film about his life to fret about, but with that too behind him he had nothing to focus his energies on. He learned about modern aircraft, becoming familiar with how to put them together and how to take them apart. It was easy to forget Jim was a genius with his smart mouth and his reckless flare, but in the quiet of his room his mind took in information like a sponge. But for what? He would lose this knowledge as soon as he went back. It was a frustrating reality that did nothing to stop him from going forward with his reading. Jim didn’t bothering looking up when he heard the door to his apartment open. He knew from the sounds of the steps alone that it was Bones. He gave a wave without looking up, turning the page to end the chapter before turning his attention to the other man. “How was work?” It was all too domestic to be reality and yet here they were. This was his life. Leonard’s bag dropped to the floor with a loud thud as he entered Jim’s apartment. He barely looked up from the pad of paper in his hand as he walked by Jim. Between patients, he’d been scribbling away, anything that popped into his head as an explanation-- ideas for exactly what he’d done to Jim and how he’d done it to combat the radiation poisoning. He wasn’t an engineer by any means, but Leonard had an idea of the amount of radiation the Enterprise’s core could produce, and to think of regenerating Jim’s entire cellular makeup in two weeks-- it was more than an interesting quandary for passing consideration. While the premise was interesting to say the least, for now it was just a puzzle that Leonard was using to occupy his time. The cartoon-like drawings on his pad revealed as much, what with the various diagrams of irradiated cells being chased by strands of angrily frowning Khan genes he’d sketched during the last week. It wasn’t something he was going to invest too much time in-- Leonard had already considered the ethics of such a decision, deciding that it was best to leave the many gray areas of the science alone without devoted exploration. He’d seen himself save Jim in the film, he knew what he’d felt even if he hadn’t directly experienced the terror of Khan’s plan, but he knew that keeping Jim alive had been his only choice in that moment. Leonard also knew that maintaining and exploring the medical technology that had saved Jim was not something he could do in good conscience. He merely hoped that the version of himself that he’d seen on screen had made the same choice. Leonard finally tossed his notepad, scribbles and all, onto the coffee table before he took up residence in his usual corner of the couch. “Business as usual. People want your advice when they’re sick and hurting, but they don’t want to hear about what they’re going to have to do to get well. Act all offended and affronted when there’s not a magic pill that’ll make everything better in an instant,” he grumbled. Leonard rolled his head back, hissing at the cracking sound his neck made as he closed his eyes for a moment. He made a mental note to do some stretches later in the evening if he was able to get back on his feet. “What about you?” Leonard reached out blindly, his palm searching for the warm patch of skin at the back of Jim’s neck. “You should tell them the magic pill is a few decades out and they should come back then. I’m sure that wouldn’t have any negative consequences.” Jim couldn’t blame the people. He was far from the best patient. In fact, lying on that slab was probably the most cooperative he was ever going to be when it came to medical care. He hated doctors, always had. He didn’t hate them as people, clearly, but going to them was an entirely different matter. He’d wait until the last possible moment to go, usually making things worse in the process. Bones would yell at him, heal him and they’d repeat the cycle the next time Jim got himself into trouble. Might not be the most orthodox way of going about things, but it worked. He rolled his head back into the touch, attention still on his book. With the chapter ended he creased the corner of the page to mark his spot. It might be little and inconsequential, but Jim liked knowing he left something behind. He also knew such actions drove some people crazy, but how often did he get to read a book made of actual paper pages? “I did some flying for SHIELD, read a few manuals, now I’m reading this. I believe this is what you would call a boring day. I should go jump off a few roofs to feel more like myself.” “What’s a few decades when you’re bleeding internally?” Leonard asked with a snort. “Even with the advances in regen technology that I’m used to working with to patch you and the others up, there’s only so much that can be done in some cases,” he added, voice softer as he continued to slide his fingers along the back of Jim’s neck. It wasn’t something that he liked to admit, that he couldn’t save all of his patients, but it had to be acknowledged. Besides, he’d been more perturbed by the thoughts of the patient he’d most recently saved. “And I think that’s how it should be, I think everybody’s got their time. But I guess some people are always going to find ways to bend the rules.” He spoke with a certain fondness in his voice because they both knew that in any universe Leonard McCoy would have done anything and everything to keep the one James T. Kirk alive. It was difficult for Leonard to wrap his head around the idea that they’d been here for nearly six months. He was reminded of the fact that Jim had been here even longer when he talked about what he was doing with his time. Leonard knew that Jim wasn’t meant for this, the stasis of occupying himself with ships that were practically toys while they waited to get back to their ship and their crew, but he was selfishly relieved at the less dangerous existence Jim was currently experiencing. Still, he didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t be a doctor, and even here he could still do that, so he wasn’t completely capable of relating to Jim’s experience. “You know I don’t think there’s anything boring about flying. I wouldn’t get too occupied with the rooftops, though. Even under your capable hands, I’m sure one of your planes is just as likely to give you a wild ride when you least expect it. They’re goddamn death traps.” “Or find someone to bend the rules for them,” Jim shot back, leaning his head back to look at the other man. There was a fond smile on his face, even as his head raced with thoughts. This man had brought him back to life. Would bring him back to life. You’d think by now he’d be able to process that fact but so far it hadn’t happened. It was still too strange. “Don’t worry about those death traps, I have you here to bring me back. You should really be thanking me. If you didn’t have idiots like me getting themselves in trouble you’d be dealing with nothing but germs and how boring is that?” His tone was teasing, even as he used his arm to bring the other man down for a quick kiss. “Are you going to keep looming over me or are you going to join me?” Jim swung his legs down so that Bones had a seat on the couch. He dropped the book to the floor, resting his hands behind his head. “You’re not an idiot, but I don’t need you out there trying your luck, either,” Leonard said, perhaps sounding a bit more stern than he’d meant to sound. But still, McCoy went when Jim asked, sprawling into his usual spot before he pulled Jim’s legs back across his lap. “I meant what I said, Jim. You know I’d do anything for you, to keep you coming back, some version of me out there’s already proved that, but I don’t think I could keep doing it that way. It wouldn’t be right.” Leonard had occupied himself with tracing the lines of one of Jim’s knees, athletic but boney, leading down to skinny calves and he nearly smiled. But now he was looking at Jim’s face, searching for any obvious signs of approval or disagreement. “Do you understand?” He hadn’t spoken with anybody else about how his own actions in the film had bothered him, how he’d acted without considering the implications and ramifications of what he was doing, but perhaps it wasn’t the sort of thing that even he could understand outside of the moment. But he knew his gut and his conscience, and while Leonard McCoy was a doctor and a scientist who wanted to push boundaries, he had to acknowledge that he’d crossed an ethical line. “But Bones, that’s how I keep it from getting rusty.” Jim’s smile grew as Bones’ became serious. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t enjoy getting the shit beaten out of him. He had always pushed himself and sometimes things went a bit too far, but that didn’t mean he actively sought out pain. Usually. Maybe on a few occassions. As Bones continued his own smile faded, slowly taking in what Bones was saying. He understood why he would be hesitant, but if his crew was dead or dying and that prick could save them then how was he supposed to ignore that option? “I’m not asking you to save me forever and always, but what if it’s Pavel that gets hurt? Scotty? Sulu? Christine? How am I supposed to watch you die and not do the same thing you did for me? You’re right that it shouldn’t be abused. The implications alone...but how am I supposed to watch my crew die and do nothing when there is something that could save them?” Leonard was quiet for a while, mulling over Jim’s words. It was easy to work in theories, models and ideas, but he understood the appeal that Jim was making by personalizing each and every possible scenario. “There are enough doctors with god complexes as it is, but having the power to choose like that, I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. And that’s what it’d come down to, Jim. In a perfect world, we’d have the resources and the technology to keep life’s ills at bay, but we don’t live in a perfect place, and that serum’s not the answer.” Leonard’s stomach turned, even as he said the words. He couldn’t live with himself if he knew that he’d saved Sulu or Christine so easily, yet left a nameless ensign from engineering to die normally. “The risk of that serum getting into the wrong hands is enough. As sure as we’d use it for good, somebody else would find a way to use it for bad, and that’s enough to convince me.” Seeing how Marcus had abused the technology he’d used Harrison to develop helped convince Leonard of that. And if that serum ceased to exist after it had done it’s work on Jim, Leonard was happy to put it to rest. Nobody needed to possess that level of control over life itself, especially when a time would come that the most well-meaning person would abuse it. “I have to hope that my best can be enough, and that I can learn to do better when it’s not,” Leonard answered. “And I hope that I falsified your medical reports and put whatever was left of that serum through the incinerator,” he added firmly. “I don’t trust those other doctors. I trust you. Maybe that’s not fair, but when is death ever fair?” He knew that the serum wasn’t here, that these questions didn’t matter here but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it. Anything involving the serum put Bones in an impossible position, but what kind of captain would he be if he didn’t do everything in his power to ensure the safety of his crew? He would already lose so many. He also didn’t like the implications of being the only one to be saved. He seemed to be handed limitless chances and messed them up each and every time. “What if it was you? Bones, you can’t expect me to sit there and let you die. Not after what you did for me.” Not when he needed him as much as he did. Who would be there to put him back together? “Bones, I’m not saying you should use it for every bruise and scrape. Hell, who knows what the long term effects of that bastard’s blood will be. But you can’t fix death, I don’t care how good you are. Not without a little help.” He knew he sounded like a petulant child, he knew that he should take the smart and noble path, but when it was his crew hurting he wouldn’t give a damn about morals. Things would be a lot different if he could think that way, but he had proven he wasn’t that kind of guy. “What I did for you, to you,” Leonard corrected, shaking his head. “I obviously wasn’t thinking, Jim. I was operating on autopilot, following my instincts, and my own desires,” he explained. He’d followed his heart, needing to save Jim not just because he was the captain of the Enterprise, but also because the version of himself that he’d seen on screen possessed just as much love for Jim as he himself did now. It was a small revelation to realize that despite how he felt about the actions he’d seen himself commit on screen, his love for Jim was the constant between them. “And I don’t regret a damn thing that I did there,” he added, speaking vehemently before Jim could get a word in, hoping that Jim could understand the fact that he didn’t have the time then for that kind of ethical consideration. Maybe it was a cop out, though, to say that he hadn’t thought about his actions when he’d made deliberate choices to save Jim’s life in unconventional and perhaps unethical ways. “And if it were me, Jim, I hope that you’d do what you felt was right for me and for you.” It was all that Leonard could say because that’s what he’d done when he’d opened the body bag to find Jim inside. “And what about here and now, Jim? There are viruses and diseases that exist here that I’ve never encountered because we’ve eradicated them on earth in our time. We can help people re-grow their own kidneys-- am I supposed to use that knowledge on the people in this universe?” he asked. Again, Leonard’s gut instincts and his altruism had taken hold when he’d first arrived here, then once more when he’d woken up as an eighteen-year-old. He couldn’t resist those instincts, and he’d worked himself into a frenzy trying to fix and erase all of the problems he’d seen. By the time he’d started disseminating current plastic surgery procedures and techniques, Leonard had been able to see just how arrogant his assumptions had been. Simply put, medicine here wasn’t ready for the way that he’d grown accustomed to practicing, so he’d reevaluated his expectations and his behavior. He’d learned over and over again that he couldn’t save all of his patients’ lives, yet he continued to battle. However, Leonard still had to acknowledge that he was learning his first applicable lesson about the necessity of the Prime Directive (not that he agreed with everything it stood for). At the same time, he was glad that he hadn’t faced an immediate crisis like the one he’d watched after Jim’s death in the film. “Frustrating as it is, I think there’s only so much I’m supposed to be able to do, Jim,” he said as he laid a hand on Jim’s knee. “You damn well know I’d save you.” No matter the risk. His actions with other colleagues had proved as much and that wasn’t near the bond this was. “I’d have to save you, Bones.” Jim wasn’t sure what his tone was in that moment. Perhaps determined. Jim was always the one putting himself in harms way, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if their roles were reversed. Seeing Bones tackle that pod in the film had been hard enough. In that crisis moment would he be able to come up with a plan? Would he be able to solve the problem the way Bones had? He wasn’t sure. He was too ruled by emotion and gut feelings. He wasn’t sure if Bones had been in the body bag that he could have figured out a solution and that scared him. A thought he pushed deep down and did his best to refuse to acknowledge. There were many reasons their relationship had not developed back home as it had here. Emotional entanglement didn’t have the risk it did back home where he needed his home clear for his ship. Not that he could blame his ship for his inability to emotionally and romantically connect with others. The stubborn part of him fully believed they could have what they had here back home, but the practical part of him wasn’t sure. Luckily he was more stubborn than practical. “Bones, I’m not asking you to change this world. I understand the Prime Directive. I do, but that’s going to be our reality back home. Would you refuse to develop a vaccine because it would change the world? Of course not! It’s using your resources and your wits to come up with a solution. How can that be bad?” He understood Bones’ concerns. It could get out of hand easily, Marcus had proven that. He wasn’t even suggesting they tell anyone, but if his crew was in trouble what harm could a backup plan do? A lot, but it would be hard to remember that if it was his crew in danger. “Why are we even worrying about this? It hasn’t happened. By the time it does we won’t remember any of this.” While Leonard knew that Jim would do anything for his crew, for him, hearing from Jim in such an explicit manner was what he needed. He wouldn’t ask Jim to go outside his own morals or means to save him when he needed it-- Jim hadn’t asked him for that much-- but still Leonard knew that he would do it. “You know I’m not opposed to advancing medicine, Jim. I just-- Kahn’s blood, that serum’s too powerful. The things that the wrong hands could do with it, who knows how many Kahns we would have on our hands, or how many more could be created.” Leonard shook his head. He understood the likelihood that this conversation wouldn’t matter once they returned to their own universe, but then there were no guarantees that they would forget any of their experiences from their time here. And what if they never got back to the Enterprise? “I worry about everything that’s important to me,” Leonard replied, looking pointedly at Jim. “Maybe there’s something else we need to be worried about, Jim. There’s a lot of people who’ve come and gone, and here we are. I hate how helpless we are in this situation, but it’s been seven months for me, eleven for you...” Leonard paused, carefully considering his next words. “What are we going to do if we can’t get back?” he asked quietly. He knew that it wasn’t something that Jim wanted to think about, much less discuss, but Leonard knew that he himself was beginning to settle into a routine. A very comfortable routine where he went on rotation with SHIELD medical--the sort of job he’d intended to have once upon a time-- worked the long hours with patients or in the lab, then spent his evenings with Jim or the others from Starfleet. It begged another question. “And what if it’s just one of us that goes back?” He hated to think about being here alone, but he hated to leave Jim alone even more. Jim was already growing uncomfortable at the direction this conversation was taking. He was willing to ignore a fight that they wouldn’t remember when they got home, but then Bones had to go and bring up an immediate concern. “We’re going back,” he snapped, turning to hide the wince at his own tone. “We’re going back,” he added, his voice turning softer. It was hard for Jim to accept that he had been here almost a year. A year where he had been completely taken off course, a year where he was a nobody once again. He had promised himself a long time ago he wouldn’t go back to being a nothing and currently he was failing. He was living in the shadow of a man he couldn’t be here. It was no less bitter than living in the shadow of his father. Not that this world was all bad. He had been amused by the novelty of it. He was thankful for a resolution to the tension between him and Bones. He liked some things, but this wasn’t his home. “So it’s taking us longer than others, that doesn’t mean we’re stuck. We’re not meant to stay here.” “We’re both going back.” It was avoiding the real issue of what Bones was talking about, but it was a subject he wasn’t interested in exploring. There was nothing he could do to prevent the portal from doing what it would. He couldn’t keep Bones with him. He couldn’t get them sent back at the same time. It was a fear and concern without an answer or a way to cheat around. It was something he didn’t want to talk about. “We’ll be fine.” Leonard flinched at Jim’s tone. He understood the frustration the other man was feeling-- it was why he’d been so unpleasant when he first arrived here-- but he also had a role to play in this universe with SHIELD. He was closer to being a simple country doctor in this universe than he ever was in his own-- wasn’t that what he’d always thought he wanted? Leonard was grappling with that idea, maybe he actually could make a place for himself in a universe like this one. He’d always been told that he was old-fashioned, and he liked to think of himself in that light. “What if we’re here because we’re supposed to be here?” Leonard asked quietly. He still didn’t completely trust SHIELD-- organizations like it were kept secret for a reason-- but he also didn’t think that they’d be purposefully harboring so many refugees because of how taxing they were on resources. Leonard knew that there were many things that they weren’t being told, but what else was new. He couldn’t help but shake the feeling that being sent here wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought it would be. “This wasn’t happening back home,” he said as he took one of Jim’s hands in his own. One important thought-- that Leonard would be extremely tempted to sacrifice his place in his own universe if he got to keep what had developed here in his relationship with Jim-- was left unspoken. Still, he was desperate to hear Jim’s response, although he was willing himself to remain calm, cool, and casual. “I’m not meant to stay here,” he said, his voice rising to that of a petulant child before he calmed himself down. “We’re not meant to be here. We’re supposed to go home.” Jim was a genius, but he could be blissfully ignorant when he wanted to be. As much as he had been trying to ignore it, Bones’ face was making it painfully clear all the things Jim had been happy to ignore. Bones liked it here. Did he want to stay? If they had a choice would he pick here? Jim knew it wasn’t that simple. He had a daughter back home and all the responsibilities that came with that, even if he was going off on a five year mission. Still, Leonard almost looked eager not to be taken back. As horrible as the movie had been and a painful as that experience would be, Jim knew without any shadow of a doubt that the Enterprise was where he belonged. He didn’t have a purpose here. His skills didn’t translate. Sure, flying the planes was nice, but it wasn’t what he was meant to do forever. “What would I do here?” Jim slid his fingers through Bones’, looking intently at the top of his hand as he considered what the other man was saying. “No, it wasn’t.” He’d like to tell Bones that it would develop, that it was only a matter of time before they figured it out. Five years on a ship was a long time to realize what you wanted. The truth was he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he would take the risk when he was Captain of the ship. Jim pulled Leonard into a kiss, knowing how he felt but unsure of what to say. He was grateful this happened. It was all he could have wanted, but he wouldn’t lie to him and guarantee him that this would happen in their world. Bones deserved more than a coddling lie. “You mean more to me than anyone else. You do back home. You’re my best friend, Bones. The first real one I ever had.” “You’re right, I know that you’re right, but the way that I feel about it--” Leonard stopped himself from saying more. He almost felt guilty for enjoying his time here, and the longer they stayed here, he recognized that he was not only growing more and more comfortable, but also more attached to the place and the people. The thought that he might grow to miss this place just as much as he missed home and the goddamn Enterprise stung. “Well, my feelings are always complicated,” he finished, and that admission left him smarting. He wanted to make himself vulnerable, to beseech Jim to see the situation differently, to see that what they did didn’t matter if they got to keep one another, but those ideals were neither practical nor realistic. They drove one another insane on an hourly basis, and it was worse when they had nothing else to do-- Leonard cracked a smile at the thought. No, love alone was not enough to sustain and fulfill them in any universe. Leonard was quiet while Jim spoke, then carefully responding to his kiss. It wasn’t an action that was meant to distract him, it was Jim offering him a physical comfort that he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) express with words. For as much as Leonard relied on words to communicate a lot of gruff sentiments that he didn’t truly mean, he was becoming quite fluent in Jim’s intimate language of touch-- he’d always been a dedicated student. It made Jim’s words, the thoughts that he chose to share, even more meaningful to Leonard. “I know, kid. I know it here, and I know it there. You mean everything to me, and even if this doesn’t happen back home, if it can’t happen there, I’ll still feel the same.” “You want to stay. A part of you wants to stay.” Jim didn’t think it would hurt to say that out loud, but he had been wrong before. As much as Jim cared about Leonard, he would never be completely happy here. Maybe he’d never be fully happy anywhere. He was born without it all and he never expected it to end any differently. It wasn’t that it was a choice between Bones and the Enterprise, it wasn’t that simple. Or maybe it was. Did he love the Enterprise more than he loved what they had? It was impossible to compare. Being Captain of the Enterprise made him feel like the man he wanted to be, being with Bones made him feel like himself. All of the good parts and ugly pieces he hid away from everyone were exposed. He would always be a man that had his secrets, but Bones had a way of making it seem like he already knew them and didn’t care. He had never felt so honestly himself as when he was with Bones, but that didn’t mean he belonged here. “I hope it does,” he said softly, with all the sincerity and wishfulness he could muster. “I hope it happens. I’d be better for it. You make me better.” Jim felt open and raw, uncomfortable with how important this conversation felt. “You know how I feel, right?” Because he didn’t know how to say it. Jim’s words weren’t spoken in accusation or out of anger, but the fact that Jim just knew what Leonard was feeling was enough to make him feel guilty. He hadn’t wanted to admit to the sense of belonging that he’d been feeling here, certainly not to Jim, but he also recognized that Jim knew him better than anybody else. So how could he not have recognized? “Yeah, part of me,” Leonard offered, affirming Jim’s words. Part of him wanted to stay, part of him wanted Jim to stay, part of him wanted to return home, but more importantly, he knew that he needed to return home. While that need overrode any nonsensical whims he was tempted to bow to, Leonard still felt conflicted. “Wouldn’t like this place even a fraction as much if you weren’t here,” he added. He was enjoying his time here more and more with every day, growing more comfortable, but he knew that he’d go wherever Jim went-- Leonard proved that every time he set foot on a shuttle or starship. And the choice, taking that step after Jim, was always easier than he thought it would be. Leonard was surprised by Jim’s admission, both by what he’d said and the fact that he’d even said it at all. He’d set aside these conversations because every time he tried to approach the topic of their relationship, he went about it all wrong, defenses up, prepared to pull teeth to get Jim to talk. But then the kid could just make it so easy, Leonard didn’t even know why he tried to make these things go his way. He just wished that he’d been more prepared-- maybe then he could’ve kept the goddamn look of surprise off his stupid face. “I know, Jim, I know just as well as you know,” he replied, squeezing Jim’s fingers tightly with his own. Leonard was on the verge of hearing everything he’d wanted to hear, his heart was fit to burst. And he knew that Jim knew how he felt, just how much of a hold he had on his heart and his being. He pulled Jim closer, pressing a kiss to his mouth, full of intent and promise and hope for all the things yet to come. |