The next chapter of Handle ID Angel is in the works, however after reading some of these 5 and 1 fics, I just couldn't help writing one myself. And watching John turn into McCoy just intrigues me! (And yes, Angel will make a cameo here.. she whined until I put her in lol)

Disclaimer: I own neither Doom, nor Star Trek. I just drool over Karl Urban.

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5 Women that John Grimm Loved...

Mom

He forgets nothing after the change. The C24 running through his brain makes his memories so clear he can hardly stand it. Even the things he wants to forget are etched in too deeply for him to escape. The clarity remains damn near perfect no matter how much time has passed.

It's more than a little ironic that those few things he does so desperately want to remember were already slipping out of his reach before the change ever happened.

He'd been so young when he'd lost his parents, and in the wake of PTSD and passing years their memories had faded to mere glimpses.

It was his mother he missed the most. While his father, the highly acclaimed Dr. Jonathon Grimm, spent most of their years at Olduvai buried in his genetic research, his wife devoted herself to her children. Even out on the dig, she'd taken the time to teach, to play, to make sure that her twins knew how much she loved them.

"Sam, John, come see," she'd call, beckoning them over to kneel with her in the dirt. Or "Gently, John, gently," as she helped him painstakingly uncover some small find.

Away from the dig, she did her best to make their tiny 2 bedroom quarters into something like a home. John remembered 'windows' crafted out of posters and a set of curtains, and the rag rugs he and Sam tied carefully with their mother's help. Even now, he can almost smell the soup that so nearly tasted like chicken.

These are the moments he can cling to as the decades, the centuries, pass by. The sound of her voice, her easy laugh, and the scent of her as she held him tight.

These memories are his most precious, and yet… they aren't quite enough to ease the pain that he feels whenever he realizes he no longer remembers her face.

Samantha

He'd loved her before either of them were born, he thinks. It's a bond he's not sure he understands. If asked, years down the road, he might be tempted to wish he'd never had a twin, had never had to deal with an infuriating sister, so adept at reading his mind. So successful at making him feel like a fool with a few sharp words.

He would never actually say such a thing though, for as aggravating as Sam can be, and despite any number of arguments they might have (the most notable lasting a decade), she is still his sister.

He would have never let another make so terrible of a decision as she did, that horrible morning as he bled out in the dark of the Ark facility.

But she knew him. Knew him, and trusted him to stay John, to never become a monster.

If he lives, now, and chooses to continue living, it is for her. Because he knows her, and knows that somewhere, in what he can only imagine Heaven to be, she still believes in her brother.

Angel

This was no love at first sight, no instantaneous explosion of pink hearts and fluffy bunnies. Frankly, the first time John had seen her, he'd been more than a little pissed. In his opinion, Sarge should have known better than to bring a woman into one of the roughest fucking special ops units in the American United Armed Forces Marine Corps.

Especially not the kind of woman who looked like her. OK so yeah, he'd looked. So had every man on the team, save for Sarge. It was hard not to look: other than the fact that she was in uniform, he'd never have guessed the curvy little thing was military. So lust at first sight: yeah, he could admit to that one.

A grudging acceptance of her on the team had come next. She'd asked for no special considerations, and despite whatever past she and Sarge might have had, he'd been just as tough on her as he was on any of the men. To John's surprise and chagrin, the young woman kept up. She earned her place on the RRTS, and not even he could deny it.

Respect had followed, along with a growing need to be close to her. He told himself he only wanted to keep her whole, to make sure she healed after that bastard Cable had damn near beat her to death, but even then he knew he was lying.

Without realizing it, they were friends. Good ones, almost as close as he and Sarge had grown to be. She called him John whenever they were back on base, and he found himself wanting be the only one to use her real name. Let the other men call her 'Angel;' that was fine by him. But in the quiet moments, rare though they might be, he was determined to use her name.

Up until that point, he'd done well enough at keeping the lust locked away. It broke free one night out at a bar, slamming into them both with a vengeance. He'd laid his mouth on hers, and once he did, neither of them ever looked back.

It took her damn near dying for him to realize what had really happened between them. He loved her, desperately, utterly, aggravatingly. She was a comrade and a lover, and she challenged him in ways he knew no other woman was likely to do again. She was there at his very darkest hour, and while he would never have wanted her near the kind of horror they saw at Olduvai, he can only be grateful that she was there. Grateful that she and Sam had a chance to meet, that the two most important women in his life might have the chance to know each other.

That both of them survived was a gift from God, and he knew it.

Leaving her behind, after years of loving her and knowing that he likely always would, was easily the hardest decision he would ever make.

Maybelle

The first time he saw Maybelle, he was nearly 200 years old and sitting on a bench overlooking the Mississippi river, calculating the odds that he might actually be able to drown. She was probably in her late 60s, he thought, and hanging desperately to a leash as she "walked" an exuberant hound dog. It was actually the dog that got his attention.

He'd had next to no warning. The woman had given a shout of "No, damn it!" and he'd looked up to see the leash had slipped from her hand, and the hound was headed straight for him. It was a testament to the hound's agility that John had only a moment to brace himself before it bounded straight up and into his lap, tail wagging fiercely and tongue delivering a deluge of sloppy kisses.

"Harper, you get down!" She'd hurried over in her old straw hat and battered tennis shoes, and did her best to drag the mutt off of John. Finally back on the ground, the hound did it's best to look sheepish while she read it the riot act. Apparently satisfied with the dog's shamed expression, she turned her attention back to John, who'd simply watched feeling more than a bit bemused.

"Look, I'm sorry about Harper, he's not vicious or nothing, just dumber than dirt." She shot another quick glare, before looking back at John, eyes concerned. "Are you alright, honey? You look a little shook up, and bless it!" She stepped forward and started batting at his chest. "Look at all this mud! Damn it Harper, look at this mess." She stuck her hands on her hips. "Well, hell, there's nothing for it. I'm gonna have to wash those, otherwise they'll be a total loss, if I do say so. Come on with me, honey." And with those astonishing words, she grabbed John by the hand and started off, dragging him and the dog with her.

John finally found his voice. "Look, Ma'am... I appreciate the thought but you don't have to do this. My clothes are fine, really." She didn't stop walking, just continued on her way. John had the vague notion that this was what a sheep probably felt like in the hands of a creaky old border collie.

"Nonsense, it's the least I can do after the damn fool jumped ya. Anyway, the house is just a ways up here. No trouble, honey. No trouble." Ignoring the wry chuckles of the few onlookers to catch the humorous scene, John tried again to reason with the woman.

"You don't even know me, lady. You really want a stranger in your house? What if I was some kind of serial killer?" he asked, trying not to trip as she pulled him up a set of porch steps. She let him go, freeing up her hands to open the door. Harper pelted by, and she turned to beckon him in.

"I already know enough about you. Harper likes you, and dogs are excellent judge of character, you know." It was only his enhanced senses that allowed him to hear her whisper to herself, "And it's not as if anybody'd be around to care if you were anyway."

He supposed it was the sheer loneliness in her voice that convinced him. A loneliness that he could definitely relate to. Shaking his head a little, he followed her inside. She let him borrow a shirt and some pants she'd had tucked away in a closet.

"My.. my Leonard was about your size, I think." They'd been too big in actuality, but John had simply thanked her. It only took an hour for her to wash his clothes, but he'd stayed far longer, just listening to the sound of her thick Southern drawl, and taking in the stories she told. She managed to coax a smile out of him, and he realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed.

He found himself staying in Mississippi, working in a small hospital there, and visiting Miss Maybelle every Saturday just to talk or walk her late husband's idiotic hound dog. He told her about his parents and Sam, and of the hole inside him when he thought about leaving Angel behind. She shared her husband's old service photos and her wishes that they might have had a child, someone to keep her company now that Leonard was gone.

She was a dear friend, nearly family, and that was something so rare in John's long life. That friendship lasted three short years before she passed away. John kept Harper, and her husband's name. When the time came, Leonard H. McCoy buried the old dog right beside her.

Joanna

He'd decided to never have children after the change. From all that Sam and Angel could discover, C24 was not something each successive generation would be born with. Lucy had it; her child didn't. It was clear to John that any child he fathered would grow old, and die in time while their father would remain unchanged, for God only knew how long. It was a life he never wanted to give to a child: one that he did everything in his power to keep from giving.

It was only too bad that her mother took matters into her own hands; by the time he'd realized Loretta was pregnant, there was really nothing he could do to stop it. So, he bit the bullet and married the bitch, and hoped like hell it was the right thing to do.

Despite all of this, Joanna is his miracle. From the moment she was born, Joanna Samantha McCoy had him captivated. She is, without a doubt, the most amazing thing he has ever taken part in. Bright and funny, with his murky hazel eyes and messy dark mane, she promises to be everything he could ever want in a daughter.

She is, he understands, his redemption. His Jo baby thinks he's a hero. Shouts it to the world, that she's gonna grow up to be a doctor just like her daddy. To save lives, just like her daddy. His daughter's unshakable faith is enough to break his heart to pieces.

He won't get to stay with her long, not nearly as long as he wishes he could. He hopes that someday, when she's old enough to really understand the unbelievable story he'll have to tell her about why her daddy doesn't age, that she'll forgive him for leaving her behind. He'll miss her first day of school, her first A, hell her first boyfriend, and he hates himself for it.

But God knows, he loves her, and he has no other choice

...And One Woman Leonard McCoy Never Did.

Loretta wanted to marry a doctor, live in a fine house, and be the darling little socialite she's always dreamed of being. She picked one "Leonard McCoy" as the most attractive specimen around, and set out to make sure that he agreed to her demands.

He hadn't, not at first. Indeed, the dark haired doctor had seemed surprisingly resistant to her (many as she'd gladly tell you) charms. Even after he'd finally let her fuck him, he never once dropped his guard enough to fall for her as expected, let alone drop down on one knee with a flawless diamond ring.

No matter, there was at least one method he'd never see coming, and she used it one New Year's Eve at a party her parents threw.

Romulan ale. Yes, it was highly illegal and ridiculously alcoholic, and yes, it took far more of it to get the doctor plastered than she'd expected, but in the long run it was worth it. Liquored up as he was, the good doctor forgot about that tiny thing called "protection," and after a night of exhausting debauchery (for her at least, really how many times could a man go at it in one night?) she was sure she'd managed to complete her objective.

Sure enough, in less than 2 months she was informing him that he was going to be a father, and in less than 5 they were married with all the pomp and circumstance she could have wanted (5 months being about as long as she could wait and still wear the gorgeous designer dress she'd picked out.)

Then, their daughter was born, and she realized a flaw in her little plan. She'd just assumed he'd finally loved her, as he'd certainly played the part of a doting husband during her pregnancy. But there was no mistaking the look of awe and sheer adoration he gave to his little Joanna. Nor was there any ignoring the fact that he never once looked at his wife that way.

Loretta had the house and status she'd set out to find, and the doctor she'd planned to marry, but after all of her work, the final result seemed... just... empty. It took nearly 6 years for her to finally admit defeat, and once she did, the divorce papers took mere days to finish. It gave her a certain satisfaction to take everything he owned. She reasoned that if he hadn't bothered to find a decent lawyer, then it was his own damn fault he had nothing left.

Not even his daughter.

"Especially not his daughter," the former Mrs. McCoy told herself. "Not when he dared to love her more than his wife."

That was an interesting little experiment to write out. Hope you enjoyed it!