Title: Heart Rate - Erratic
Fandom: Star Trek 2009
Genre: Angst / Drama
Pairing: Christopher Pike / Leonard McCoy ; Jim Kirk / Leonard McCoy, other minor pairings might occur along the way
Rating: T
Summary:
When Leonard McCoy signed up with Starfleet, he fully expected darkness, disease and danger. He did not expect love, loss and a conflict of loyalties. And nothing could have prepared him for the two people who were to become absolutes in his life…
Guess what - Star Trek is not mine. By now, you could probably keep an auditorium full of copyright experts happily busy for quite a while, trying to disentangle the different claims.
I do take credit for this story though; be they original or not, these are my words, and I pieced them together. I had fun writing it, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it. If you do, please take the time to write a short review.
As a physician, I am, of course, perfectly well aware of the dangers involved in losing your heart. However, that particular insight did nothing to prevent me from doing so. If I am in a desperate situation right now, it is entirely my own fault. The only excuse I can offer is that I never had much of a choice. Spock would probably raise an eyebrow at this point and tell me that I ought to have done more to prevent the situation from escalating thus far, cold-minded, green-blooded hobgoblin that he is. Yet – has he ever tried to prevent certain events from happening? I do not think so, and that makes me feel a little better, small comfort though it is. And Jim? Ah, do not ask me. He would laugh at us all, of course. He would honey-coat the whole sad affair in that addicting, delicious, golden laughter of his. "Bones", he would tell me, "you're an idiot." And I'm tempted to agree with him…
It all started, when Jocelyn basically forced me off planet and into Starfleet. I should never have agreed to the marriage contract, but by the time I realized that, it was already too late and I had lost just about everything, including my dignity. I was young, and yes – extremely stupid. So I ended up in the very last place I had ever wanted to be – an aircraft that was set to carry me to a nightmarish hell of a life in outer space. I fully meant what I told Jim that very first day on the shuttle: "Space is darkness and disease." For me, it was purgatory. But it was also oblivion.
When the attendant pushed me into the shuttle filled with redcoats, anxious and excited youthful faces turning briefly towards me, his was the only one I noticed. It stood out – probably because of the fresh cuts and barely healed bruises covering it. Just to look at it made my fingers itch. This was wrong, his skin should have been as untarnished and smooth as that of the others and as it was my job – my calling, my doom, my destiny – to heal, I wanted to do so right away. However, aside from lacking the means to help him, I had other problems as well. I was feeling violently sick, as fear reared up in my stomach like a chained beast. "I might throw up on you", I told him by means of introduction. He looked puzzled for a moment, and then he smiled at me. The dazzling, irresistible smile that told me at once: I'm more confident than a young Cesar; Yes, I know that I'm a supremely talented genius, who can get away with basically everything, and I'm beautiful, too, that's right. And: Resistance is futile. Later I would learn that he used that smile on everyone, man, woman, superior, inferior, human, alien… and even on one particularly troubled young Vulcan, pun intended, Spock. He told me his name – Jim Kirk - but, of course, I already knew. He was James Tiberius Kirk. Pike had told me the night before, had told me everything about the fight in the pub, the boy's idiotic tendency go looking for trouble and plunge right into it, wherever he could find it, his aptitude tests, his criminal record, his ancestry… I could tell from his face that he was excited and incredulous to have found the boy and that he already adored him. That evening, Pike had looked about as pleased as the cat who had unexpectedly caught a large, golden and probably priceless canary.
Of the flight itself I remember nothing, my memory is utterly blank up to the point where we landed in San Francisco and everybody, including Jim, rushed out, leaving me to get up stiffly and with very weak knees. Impossible to tell just how relieved I was to have survived the trip and to feel solid ground below my feet again… I literally stumbled out of the shuttlecraft and right into Christopher Pike, who easily caught me and steadied me, something between a good-natured, humorous look and a rather knowing, predatory smirk on his face. Never let yourself be fooled by that innocent, open face – Chris Pike was a predator, and a dangerous one, too, in his days. "You seem a little shaken, McCoy", he said, "care for a drink?" I instantly knew, where this would lead me, but weak and pitiful rat that I was at the time, I didn't even try to fight the inevitable. He knew, too, of course. I was easy prey, he didn't even have to use any of his fabled charm on me, simple kindness was enough to make me fall, right there and then. I agreed. Pike smiled. Everything was settled, without anyone having spoken a word about it.
In defense of Christopher Pike, let it be said that even though he knew how to take advantage of my situation and state of mind, he went about it in a very civilized way. He never was the kind of pushy bastard Jim is up to this day. We had had several long talks in the last few days – Chris was recruiting Starfleet's next generation, and aside from leaping at the opportunity to secure the Fleet a full-fledged doctor with an excellent record who needed nothing but a little space training to be ready for duty, he seemed genuinely interested in me. Pike had a fancy for the extraordinary – including the dreamers, the brave fools, the mad geniuses and all the other kinds of lost, but interesting causes out there. His people skills were unmatched, and it usually didn't take him very long to have someone tell him the story of his or her life. He then stored it away carefully, analyzed it and pulled from it whatever useful information he could gather to then employ it for the most noble cause he knew – making that person's unique talents accessible to Starfleet. He ran his usual program with me, but soon I caught that gleam of playful, teasing curiosity in his grey eyes that told me his interest went a little further than professional. To say I was surprised would have been an understatement. Yet somehow it was comforting and it certainly did wonders to resurrect my bruised ego from the dead… he wanted me, that much was obvious, and as the attraction was mutual, I was in no mood to say no. Besides, it was a form of revenge and it gave me a grim pleasure to imagine the shock wiping contempt and arrogance from Jocelyn's pretty face, had she known.
"Still sure about this?" Pike asked me, alluding to my bad experience with the flight. I pulled a face. "I already told you, didn't I? There's nowhere else to go." "Bah." He waved his hand negligently. "With that kind of record, just about every hospital on Earth would take you and I bet you know that. New York, Sidney, Rio, London, Paris, Delhi or Beijing – they'd welcome you with open arms…" "Not far enough away." He chuckled. "Seems you've got quite a trauma there. But you do know, that you're stuck in San Francisco for the next two or three years at the very least?" I shrugged. "First opportunity I get, I'll be out of here." "The city isn't that bad," he teased. "Plenty to see and to do, you won't get bored. Especially not with the training program." "You teaching anything?" I asked. I could imagine him as a teacher; the role would have suited him well. He shook his head. "I obviously won't be teaching you – which is lucky, in fact, as I never could or would take out a student for drinks." He winked at me. I snorted. "Lucky me, huh?" "I guess that depends on your point of view…" He eyed me curiously and warmth spread through my body under that steady gaze. Instead of answering him, I took another sip of my drink. Let him get a little more straightforward, I wanted to be sure he wasn't teasing me just for the fun of it – by the way just the thing Jim might have done in a similar situation, but let's stay with Chris… He was playing with the edible decorations lining the rim of his glass – the red-headed bartender had gone a bit overboard - , yet never taking his eyes off me. It was actually getting a little unnerving. "You might want to order some food," I told him dryly, "otherwise, I'll start to get jumpy if you keep looking at me like that." A wicked smile touched his lips. "No thanks, I'm quite comfortable. Besides, I like looking at you." "Yeah, I already figured that out. Can't imagine why, though. It's not as if I was much to look at right now." Pike rolled his eyes. "Your self-estimation sucks," he informed me. "Does it?" "Definitely." He bent forward, across the table, still not touching me, but getting close enough that I could feel the faint brush of his breath against my skin. A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn't one of the unpleasant sort. "Are you trying to suggest anything, Sir?" I asked mockingly. "Plea-ease. I do have a first name." "Which would be…?" "Chris – Christopher." I smiled. "Christopher, then." "That's better. Now, would you care to accompany me outside?" "That sounds like you're proposing a duel," I chided. "I like the metaphor." His grin was definitely evil now. "It's just that I'd rather not ruin your reputation before you even had a chance to meet anyone." "Whatever gave you the idea I'd care about my reputation?" But I followed him outside and we strolled through the streets of San Francisco. It was getting rather late, but there were still plenty of people out, officers and cadets from the Academy and groups of civilians, even tourists. Chris seemed to know exactly where he was going so I let him lead the way. I really didn't care much.
"This is nice," I commented when we walked across a little courtyard with a sparkling fountain, around which were grouped several apartments that served as living quarters for higher ranking officers who were staying at the Academy for a few months or years to teach or perform administrative duties. Chris gave a noncommittal shrug, opening a door and showing me into a large, dimly lit living area with windows opening towards the gardens. We were somewhere on the third or fourth floor and I had to admit that being a Starfleet captain certainly had its benefits. I completely forgot about those though, when the captain in question silently closed the door behind us and spun around to face me, not bothering with any more explanations or unnecessary preliminaries. For the second time that day he caught me in his arms, but this time, it wasn't to steady me or keep me from falling, quite the opposite, actually. His lips had barely touched mine, when I felt his tongue unsealing them. The floodgates were open now and I was quite happy to let myself float and eventually drown. Chris was having none of that, however. He wanted my active participation, body and mind, and eventually, he got it. I wrapped myself around him as we tumbled onto the couch, clumsy children fooling around. There was a desperate edge to my kisses, an unstoppable eagerness and a longing that had to be fulfilled. Chris was actually getting a lot more than he had bargained for, but he was quick to adapt. His hands ran back and forth across my upper body, divesting me of jacket and shirt in the process, then he paused for a moment, obviously pleased with what he saw, but I quickly pulled him back down again. My fingers dug into his back sharply when he nibbled at my neck – hell, sensitive spots, we all have them… - then his lips and tongue moved downwards, as did his hands which slid down my sides, darting towards the top button of my pants and pausing there. He looked up, eyes just a little dazed with lust, but quite serious still. "You want me to do this?" In reply, I pushed up against his hips, growling "Does it feel like it?" A sly grin spread across his face. "Close enough, I'd say." His fingers were quick then, pushing down pants and briefs alike and caressing my flesh while I moaned into his shoulder. "I want you," I breathed against his skin. "I already noticed that." His voice sounded amused. "And I'll be more than glad to comply with that request…" "Get on with it!" Patience had never been one of my strong points. Christopher laughed. "Stop fidgeting," He told me, then drew back a little to remove his own clothing. Seeing him naked came as something of a pleasant surprise; I estimated that he was at least ten years older than me, probably closer to fifteen, but his body was lean, muscular and well-cared for, the body of a man in his prime. I definitely liked what I saw and I told him so, if not verbally. Everything about him was warm, passionate, vigorous and I completely abandoned myself to him, dropping all pretense, sorrow, reason, common sense in the progress. He was on top and I closed my eyes, sinking into blissful oblivion, wiping all the bitterness Jocelyn had left behind from my mind.
I woke up to the sound of someone humming softly and cheerfully. Sunlight flooded the large, comfortably furnished room that smelled of coffee and summer flowers. I groaned. Chris Pike was obviously a morning person. I hadn't planned to spend the night and I felt faintly embarrassed at having fallen asleep at some point, but apparently, it didn't bother him too much. He was sitting at a low glass table near the windows, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a data pad in the other. When I sat up, his gaze travelled from the pad to me and he acknowledged me with a nod and a smile. "Well, hello there. Did you sleep well?" "Yes. Listen, I'm…" "Don't fret. There's no need to apologize. As you don't snore and no one is likely to storm in here and uncover my private life, it didn't bother me in the slightest." He pursed his lips. "That disheveled look suits you, by the way." He put down the pad and cup and went over to me, handing me a stack of clothes. "Bathroom's that way." Then he paused momentarily, looking at my upper chest. My fingers flew to the little golden locket that still hung on its chain around my neck. I had forgotten to take it off. "What's that? I didn't notice it last night…" Yeah, you did seem kinda distracted… I carefully took it off and handed it to him for closer inspection. "My daughter's," I explained. "She wanted me to have it, although it had originally been a gift… she remembered some story I read to her, about a princess with a magic locket, so she believes it to be some kind of lucky charm or something. Little girls do get strange ideas…" Chris looked up from the locket. "You have a daughter?" Then, noticing that the question was obsolete: "How old is she?" "Joanna's six. There's a picture of her inside..." "She looks like you." "I know. She isn't anything like her mother." Chris was studying my face as if trying to read something out of it. "So your ex has custody, I gather?" I nodded grimly. "She had the better lawyers and as we were both determined to keep Joana out of this, well… at least I know she'll be well cared for. Much as I despise Jocelyn, she really is a good Mum. Joanna will never be missing anything." "Except, maybe, her father…" he muttered softly, handing me back the locket. I shrugged, uncomfortable with the turn our conversation had taken.
I left before breakfast, returning as quietly as possible to my room. I needn't have bothered as my roommate, who was also enrolled in the medical training program, had already left for the day. I idly wondered what he would have thought, had he known where I came from. After taking a shower and changing into my new uniform – I would need some time to grow accustomed to its particularities – I walked to the academic counselor's office to pick up my schedule. As it turned out, they were doing a three-day introductory course for all new cadets, starting that very day. Since many of the boys and girls looked like they had barely left high school – some of them were even younger, I noticed – it seemed like a pretty good idea. Most of the information was basic – academic rules and regulations, where to find help of any kind, academic, medical or other, should you need it, Starfleet's and the Academy's code of conduct, an introduction to ranks and uniforms, a broad overview of Starfleet's organization and divisions and so on. There were tutors, guidance counselors, teachers – lecturers from inside the organization, as well as other experts who taught the theoretical courses, and the practical instructors. There were tests, obligatory and optional classes, credits to be earned and fines or other disciplinary measures for misconduct. It was college all over again – just on a larger scale and with a military air about it. In addition to my specialized medical classes, I would have to go through eleven months of basic training, the same all the other cadets underwent. I was freed from the first aid and basic psychology classes, but would have to undergo two additional technical classes together with the future engineers. When I asked the counselor for the reason, she frowned and told me that – I quote 'handling complicated medical equipment in space can be quite dangerous and when you are far from Earth or the next space station, lives may depend on your ability to diagnose and repair a malfunction'. Well, thank you Miss, what a cheery thing to look forward to…!
To my surprise, I detected that I had also been signed up for a number of classes earmarked for those cadets who were to enter into the command track. Except for me, each and every one of them had passed exceedingly difficult aptitude tests and excelled at every one of them. Since I hadn't taken any of those tests, and had – to the best of my knowledge – not expressed any particular desire to take the fast lane to the top, I wondered how I had ended up with those courses.
The mystery of my schedule resolved itself when I sat in a depressingly sterile, whitewashed classroom a couple of days later, next to Jim Kirk, who was smiling, and chatting and flirting with the pretty brunette two rows down and to the left.
I looked up when the door swung open – and lo and behold! – Pike came in, all impressive self-confidence and quite formidable in his dark grey uniform. I had to admit that it suited him well. It was a bit of a pity that he was out of the blues, so to speak, since they would have brought out the blue in his eyes. Which caused me to wonder – they had told us earlier that blue was the color used to identify the command division. Blue for command, some sort of goldish color (they called it gold, I call it yellow) for engineering, white for medical and grey for everybody else, or so it seemed. Us cadets they clad in bright red, and let me tell you, there aren't that many fair skinned people who can manage to look good in red. Jim did, of course. Jim would have been stunning in a burlap sack. And as for Pike, I would later learn that he was one of those captains who think that they are allowed to bend the rules as long as nobody dares to object.
Pike greeted us all in a cheery manner. He seemed to know everybody's name – surprising enough, since there were nearly thirty of us, twenty-seven, to be precise. Sixteen men and nine women, which annoyed me, since this was the 23rd century and in my opinion, gender-based discrimination should have gone out of fashion centuries ago. Having had ample time to study both genders at their worst, I can tell you that many women are a fair bit tougher than us men, they just aren't as good at showing it off. It therefore gave me the secret pleasure of having been right all along when I watched four men drop out of the training program later on, but only one of the women. When I asked Pike about those losses, he just shrugged. "The usual ratio," he said. "High scores on aptitude tests will only get you so far, and no test is perfect." "Not even the Kobayashi Maru?" I asked slyly, alluding to the fabled test. I had heard that name whispered with awe among the students from my first week on. It was supposed to be unbeatable. Pike grinned. "Not even that one. It will be cracked one day… when the right person comes along. But don't tell Commander Spock I said that." Since I didn't know Commander Spock at that time, it was an easy promise to keep.
"Why did you sign me up for command track?" I asked Pike after that first class. I had stayed behind, waiting to approach him until all other students had left the room. Jim was in hot pursuit of the brunette; otherwise it would likely have been difficult to get rid of him. For some unfathomable reason he had taken a peculiar liking to me since that ill-fated first meeting on the shuttle and followed me around like a curious, exuberant puppy. In everybody else, I would have taken such behavior for insecurity, but Jim was the most egocentric and overconfident living being on Earth, possibly even in the universe. Whatever he saw in me, I failed to recognize it.
Pike's interest, on the other hand, was more straightforward. We hadn't actually spoken about it, but somehow I got the impression that he thought our little tête-à-tête valued a rematch. And who was I to say no to that? I had no hobbies and nobody but an overexcited blond schoolboy to distract me; which was a pity, since I was in dire need of distraction.
"You're good," Pike told me bluntly, "you handle responsibility well and are able to keep cool in an emergency situation, which is more than I could say about most of those young fools." He clicked his tongue depreciatively.
"That's all?" I asked in bewilderment.
He shrugged. "What more is there to say? Either you prove me right, or you don't."
Needless to say that he was usually right in his assumptions.
Another thought occurred to me. "So you will be teaching me, too?"
He frowned and shook his head. "No. Probably not." I caught a not if I can avoid it in there.
"Do you have any plans for tonight?" It was so truly like him to ask that, so startlingly straightforward.
Now it was my turn to shrug. "Jim asked me to play basketball with him and a couple of the other boys, but since he seems to be quite taken with Vera, I don't think I'll see him again before tomorrow morning."
Pike grinned wolfishly at that. It was a very knowing grin that made me slightly uncomfortable. "Ah, to be young again…!"
I had to tease him about that, just a little bit, but I had to. "It seems to me that you aren't doing that badly yourself," I commented. It backfired immediately: he let his eyes travel across me, head to toe and back, and the grin broadened. "No," he acknowledged, "not bad at all. You will join me for dinner." It was not a question. With my record of defying authority, I usually object to being ordered around, but there was something in his tone of voice that sent a very pleasant shiver down my spine.
Christopher Pike was pleasantly uncomplicated when it came to food; he would eat almost anything and with pleasure. We had pasta that night, with a rich mushroom sauce and veal. There was red wine to go with it, a good one that I enjoyed, even though I generally prefer white. And truth be told, we both knew that dinner was only a preliminary.
The nice thing about Chris was that we were comfortable in each other's company right from the start and that we could enjoy two hours of light banter and more serious conversation without running out of things to say. That's as good a foundation for a relationship as any, especially, if the sex is good as well. In fact, it was a better foundation than I had ever had with Jocelyn, I can see that now, looking back on it. Jocelyn and I had few common interests and after a while, our conversations grew repetitive. One thing I cannot say about Chris is that he ever bored me.
It still remains a mystery to me, though, how I ended up half naked on the kitchen counter that night, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with putting away the dishes (which we then left for later, aka the next morning) and the way he looked at me, mirth dancing in those beautiful bluish-grey eyes. Sufficient to say that we did not make it to the bedroom until quite a bit later.
I heard him laugh, felt his hand on my shoulder, and the other at my side, felt him push against me and between my knees, which I opened for him – I'm not shy, at least not with a partner I know and care about, and it felt as if I had known him for ages. The hand on my shoulder slipped to the back of my neck and he pulled my head down for a deep kiss that made my head spin and my world reel. I felt his hands caress my sides, my hips, reach lower, strip off my uniform – I had to help him there. Note to Starfleet: coveralls are evil. I suppose they have their practical uses, too, but they can make life complicated for those of us who did not take the time to change before a romantic encounter. Once we had finally gotten rid of the damned thing, we were both quite out of breath and to far along to appreciate the fact that the kitchen was the only windowless room in the entire apartment. I have to admit, though, I was suddenly very grateful to Starfleet for thinking of all the petite Asian men and women when having the kitchen counters installed in their officer's apartments on the Academy grounds. Chris and I were both athletic and determined, but good sex is even nicer when you don't end up with severe muscle soreness or bruises the next day. So with my legs wrapped around Chris' hips, I took a moment to feel grateful towards the administrative department charged with furnishing the Academy rooms and buildings… that is, until Chris blew gratefulness out of my mind along with everything else but pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Once again, I woke up in Chris' bed the next morning, and once again I found him humming and enjoying his coffee at the glass table in the living area. Over the course of the next weeks and months, that was to become a familiar sight and pattern, something of a constant in my life. We shared breakfast, then went our separate ways, sometimes only for a day or two, sometimes for several weeks, but we always got back together eventually. As relationships go, it was a simple, uncomplicated one. There were no strings attached, no promises made, there was no talk of the future. There was also no jealousy, since Chris was confident and generous by nature. I appreciated that most of all, since it had be one of the things that had bothered me so much in my marriage to Jocelyn. We were in a relationship, but at the same time, we both kept our freedom. Chris had his job, and his friends and his hobbies, which included horse-back riding and playing poker with a group of Starfleet officers that were so senior that they probably wouldn't even have noticed me if I had walked by. I, on the other hand, had my studies and my work at Starfleet Medical that I volunteered for to gain experience, and surprisingly enough, I also found a few people I could consider as friends. Jim came and went, bringing laughter, silly jokes and a fair bit of excitement into my otherwise fairly steady life; and there were a couple of other cadets in the medical training program that I liked to join for a drink or a game of ball or cards on occasion. There were two female cadets in one of my technical classes whom I liked well; Samira El-Beid and Grace Hale. Samira was two years younger than me, and she had a three year old son, a sweet little boy with black curls and huge brown eyes. Her husband was in Starfleet, too; he was a science officer on an exploratory vessel. Since Samira had a child, too, she was one of the few people who understood how much I missed Joanna, and how anxious I was that my little girl might one day forget her absent father, or begin to hate me for not being around and taking care of her. Chris took a compassionate interest in my worries, but he had never had children or even considered having any, so he was unable to fully comprehend what I felt. Little Grace, on the other hand, was eighteen years old; petite with spiky black hair and green eyes, and what united us was a mortal fear of anything flying. Since we had the same flying instructor, a man we both hated with absolute passion, we were always able to share our latest horror stories. Samira had adopted Grace as something of a younger sister, and I frequently spent afternoons or evening in their company. Jim envied me, complaining that I got to enjoy the company of two beautiful women (Samira, in particular, was exceptionally beautiful, I have to admit; although I never felt attracted to her), and did not even appreciate it. I laughed at him in turn, since it was a well known fact that Jim could have nearly any girl at the Academy, and he made frequent use of that. There were whispers about boys, too, and since he shamelessly flirted with everything that moved, it would not have surprised me, but I never caught him at it.
So in short, I had my friends, my work, my entertainments, and I had Chris, who - for all his little flaws and perfectly unromantic nature - was the most accommodating partner I had ever had. All in all, I was fairly happy during my first year at the Academy.