A.N. This one-shot is set three and a half months after Jim wakes up in Star Trek: Into Darkness, and extra special credit to Beamirang for inspiring me with her fic "Matterhorn", and if you've read it, you'll have a good idea of what inspired me by the end. Go read her works, they're really good for a laugh, or a kick in the feels. In a good way.
Disclaimer: As I am not Paramount Pictures, nor am I Gene Roddenberry, I own nothing of Star Trek, though I really would love to have a Tribble. Or two.
Like I said in my fic Closure, God-fearing person here, so please, kindly do not troll my beliefs, as two characters do discuss them in this fic.
That being said, thank you, and enjoy!
It was a bright spring day in San Francisco, and one could tell that summer was coming, you could smell it in the air. It was a day that was meant to be enjoyed, and savored. But, that was not what Dr. Leonard McCoy, M.D. and his companion, Spock, were doing. No. Instead, they were, as Leonard would put it, chasing after the damn idiot they both called friend, James T. Kirk.
"Dr. McCoy, are you certain that this is the Captain's location," Spock's oh-so-annoyingly-logical tone broke in on Leonard's thoughts, as they walked through the Starfleet Memorial Cemetery, to the final resting place of many of the Enterprise's crew, after their run-in with the Vengeance.
"Well. We've checked the Officers Quarters, we've checked every piece of crap bar Jim's likely to be in, what's left of the Enterprise, the library at the Academy, hell, even Starfleet Medical, where he wouldn't even be caught in on a good day," Leonard snarked.
He avoided saying "be caught dead in", seeing as Jim had in fact, been caught dead there not three and a half months before. Spock spoke up once more, "I am merely wondering about your logic, Doctor."
If Leonard wasn't more concerned with the mental and physical health of Jim Kirk, he wouldn't let the note of concern he heard in Spock's voice pass without a good ribbing, but as it was, Leonard had other priorities. They were wandering rather aimlessly, trying to catch sight of the tall frame of their captain, until Spock suddenly stopped, tilted his head, and then pointed to a hill, the tallest point in the whole place. They broke off of the cemetery's path, and crested the hill whose only occupants were a towering oak, a lone white gravestone, and the sitting, slumped figure of one James T. Kirk, who seemed to be talking to himself.
As he and Spock quietly got closer, he caught sight of a large bottle of bourbon, a third of it already consumed. At least it was only a third. Lord knew the kid could hold his liquor, and so, at least he'd still be coherent. If it were only a third left, that'd be another story.
"Jim," Leonard gently called out, as they approached him on his left, so as not to startle him. He looked up, breaking off from his conversation with no one, it seemed, and Leonard caught sight of the tears rolling down Jim's cheeks and welling in his eyes, which he furtively wiped away. Leonard was mildly shocked, until he saw just who the gravestone Jim was sitting in front of memorialized. Vice Admiral Christopher M. Pike. Realization hit Leonard like a speeding hovercar, and from the look in the hobgoblin's eyes, he wasn't the only one.
"Bones," Jim rasped, confirming that he'd been crying for a while. "What are you doing here?"
Leonard ignored the protest from his joints as he eased himself down to the verdant grass, and imitated Jim's cross-legged posture. He barely noticed as Spock walked around to Jim's other side, and more gracefully imitated Jim's posture, his eyes focused on their mutual idiotic best friend.
"I could ask you the same thing, you stupid idiot. You should be taking it easy. I ought'ta hypo you to kingdom come," Leonard said.
Jim only huffed a short laugh in response. "Yeah, love you too, Bones." Here, he took up the bourbon bottle once more and took a generous swig.
"Are you alright, Jim," Spock gently asked, managing to soften his tone, something Leonard wouldn't have thought he could do.
"Fine," Jim nonchalantly muttered, though Leonard knew better. He could see that the kid was close to breaking down.
"Based on the inflection of your tone, Jim, I would say that you are not, in fact, fine," Spock pressed.
"Well, it's subjective, isn't it," Jim snapped. Silence reigned for a good two minutes before Jim spoke again, his tone this time quiet and slightly broken. "I'm sorry. I-it-it's just-it's his birthday today," he gestured with the bourbon bottle, which was now on its way to being half empty, to the pristine white stone in front of the trio. Leonard and Spock both looked to the stone, and saw, that indeed, on this day, fifty-eight standard years ago, Christopher Pike was born.
"Do you remember, Bones, how he would always spend my birthday with me, even if I didn't want him to, even if I was just pushing everybody away?"
"Yeah, I do, Jim. I was there for all of them too, kid. I was usually the one who led him to ya, after all, if he didn't find you first," he replied with a hint of humor.
"When I found out his, I would spend at least part of his with him, even if it was just for a few minutes, you know, to kind of return the favor, I guess. He was sort of like me, you know. He had no family to celebrate with - his parents died a while back, he was an only child, and he wasn't married, had no kids. So I would head to his office with a bottle of his favorite bourbon," he gestured to the bottle he held, "and we'd drink a glass or two. He'd ask me about my day, and we'd just talk, you know, about random things, new quantum theories, mathematic formulas, and even just how crappy some of the professors could be, as if the thing that made him happiest was to talk with me, about me, about the most mundane things, on his birthday, the one day that was supposed to be about him. We even bonded over having really embarrassing middle names."
Jim was beginning to loosen up, and his filter was weakening due to the amount of alcohol in his system. He chuckled ruefully, and fell silent once more. Then he looked up, and said, out of left field, "Marion."
"What?" Leonard asked, while Spock tilted his head, a puzzled brow raised.
"That's what the M. stands for," Jim tilted his head at the stone. "Christopher Marion Pike. That's his full name. It was his grandmother's name, he said. Just like Tiberius was my grandfather's."
Jim took another swig, this one thankfully smaller than the last, and then set the bottle down on the grass. He took a couple of shaky breaths, and suddenly, a sob burst from his mouth. Then came the tears, and more sobs. "I miss him, God help me, I miss him." Jim doubled over, the emotions cascading through him.
Surprisingly, it was Spock who reached for him first, putting a hand on Jim's back. Shocked, Jim looked towards his XO, and slowly, the tension in his face eased, as Spock obviously worked some sort of Vulcan voodoo on Jim.
"I regret that I did not tell you this earlier, but Admiral Pike's last thoughts were of you," Spock said.
"You said he was afraid."
"Yes, he was. But he was afraid that he wouldn't stay alive long enough to tell you that he loved you as if you were his own son, that he believed in you, and that he had absolutely no doubt that you would make him proud. He was confused and angry as to why he had to die then, knowing that he wouldn't be there for you anymore. You should also know that he was very thankful for your visits on his birthday, a day when he felt especially the absence of family in his life. That he would miss those, and you, wherever he went after death."
Jim's face crumpled, and he hurled himself into Spock's arms, nearly knocking the bourbon over, said Vulcan slowly returning said violent hug. Leonard's heart hurt for Jim, hearing that couldn't be easy.
"I heard him, you know," Jim murmured, his speech muffled by the thick fabric of Spock's off duty Vulcan clothing.
"What do you mean, Jim?" Leonard asked.
"Before I woke up, I heard his voice, along with my Dad's, and strangely, my Mom's, seeing as she's still alive. I heard Chris giving me the same dare he did when he recruited me. It was like they were really talking to me, willing me to wake up, even though part of me didn't really want to... even while I really did... it was nice where I was..." Jim paused. "I hope he's at peace, wherever he is."
"I am not entirely knowledgeable with human religious beliefs, but my mother was a Christian, and if I remember correctly, the righteous gain admittance to Heaven. From what I know, Admiral Pike fit that category, so it follows, then, that he would be admitted to such a place." Spock sanguinely replied.
Jim heaved several more breaths before they evened out. He lifted his head from Spock's shoulder, Spock keeping a bracing hand on Jim's back, and said to both of them, "Thanks for looking for me," as Leonard also gently placed his arm around Jim.
"We're your friends, you moron. It's our job, and it's not a problem." Leonard said, his sarcastic edge dulled, but not completely removed.
They remained like that, for a long duration of time before Leonard pulled Jim up, hauling Spock up along with him, and grabbed the bottle of liquor. Leonard raised the bottle, tipping it in respect to the gravestone in front of them. "To Admiral Christopher Pike. A good officer, a good man, a good friend, and a good father." He looked meaningfully at Jim here, who tearfully nodded. Leonard put his lips to the bottle and knocked back a sizable amount, passing it to Spock, who cautiously took it, and after a moment of hesitation, likewise tipped the bottle in respect, and took a good drink of it before finally passing it to Jim.
"Here's to you, Chris. You might not have been my real Dad, but you were pretty damn close. And that was more than enough for me."
He tipped the bottle as well, taking a large gulp of the amber liquid, before coming up for air. He contemplated the marble before him for a second, before pouring out the last measure of bourbon onto the ground before the gravestone.
"You might not be here anymore, but you still deserve a drink on your birthday, Chris," Jim murmured, barely audible.
He stepped forward, placing his hand on the marker, Leonard and Spock letting Jim have a quiet moment with the Admiral, the two looking at the stone which summarized rather poorly the entirety of just who Christopher Pike was. It should've at least said, "Beloved Father", but that was just Leonard's opinion.
Jim then turned, and said, "Come on, guys, let's go. Chris wouldn't want us to be depressed on this day. Let's go get dinner in his honor and a few more drinks, Lord knows I need it," before he strode away, certain the two would follow.
This brought a smile back to Leonard's face. Jim was on his way back to being, well, Jim. Leonard clapped a hand on Spock's shoulder, moving him along until they caught up with their Captain.
When the trio drew even with each other, Jim brightly said, "So, did I ever tell you, Spock, about how Bones, Chris and I got drunk together on my twenty-third birthday?" As Spock raised an incredulous eyebrow, (well, incredulous for a Vulcan, anyway,) Leonard halfheartedly protested while he contemplated how he could convince Starfleet to allow an engraver to make an addition to a certain gravestone.
The End.
A. N. Two: my ST muse seems to focus around Pike and the triumvirate. Hey, who am I to complain, though?
Hope you liked it!