"It doesn't get better," I said. "The pain. The wounds scab over and you don't always feel like a knife is slashing through you. But when you least expect it, the pain flashes to remind you you'll never be the same."
― Katie McGarry, Pushing the Limits

"Depression is often found in people who've lost a limb, Leonard."

It took two days for the nurses to realise that Leonard wasn't going to eat the food they put in front of him, and now Dowd is sat in the chair where his grandma has been camped out – she's gone back to her hotel to take a shower and phone his grandpa – and is talking to Leonard in the "I'm here to help you" tone all doctors have, and Leonard thinks he's meant to look concerned but ultimately he just looks constipated.

"I'm having difficulty separating the depression caused from losing a limb from the depression caused from being told my wife and daughter are dead, do you have any advice?"

Dowd splutters and looks like he's actually trying to think of something helpful to say, so Leonard takes pity on him and fakes being asleep until he leaves.

He must've fallen asleep for real at some point, because when he opens his eyes again the sky is darker and his grandma is back, this time with knitting.

"You should be nicer to Doctor Dowd, Leo. He's just trying to make sure you're recovering properly."

"Doctor Dowd is a prick who keeps forgetting that I'm a doctor too."

Leonard's grandma turns back to her knitting, but not before he sees her eyes flit to his left arm. Or rather, the space where his left arm should be, and Leonard guesses he should start saying he was a doctor, because he sure as hell isn't one anymore.

Not when he's only got one arm.

"You should still be nice to the man, Leo. He did save your life."

"You're right. Do you think I can get a 'Thanks for cutting off my arm' card in the hospital gift shop, or am I going to have to search for one online?"

His grandma doesn't answer him, just gets up and makes an excuse to leave the room.

Leonard wants to be mad at her, because she can get up and leave, she can use two hands, she can still hug her husband, and Leonard?

Leonard can't even leave this bed to talk to someone about arranging the funeral.

The funeral.

Leonard has to shut his eyes against the fresh wave of pain that appears in his chest when he thinks about it, because it's all too horrible to be real.

He hasn't cried since they told him that Jocelyn and Joanna were gone, he hasn't felt much of anything since his panic attack when they first told him.

He wants to cry. He wants to cry because he's never going to see Jocelyn in her new blue dress. He's never going to take Joanna to ballet practice, or act as her balancing beam when she wants to show off what she learnt that day. He wants to cry because he's never going to hold a scalpel again.

Dowd hasn't said anything, which really, is probably for the best; Leonard wants to throw something at him at the best of times, but Leonard knows.

You can't be a surgeon with only one hand.

But he doesn't cry, or throw anything at Dowd, he just lies in the bed and watches as the nurses check the stitches on his shoulder and ask him how he's feeling that day, and if he's ready to start eating the meals they leave out for him.

If it weren't for the fact that it would actually require not only starting but maintaining a conversation with Dowd, Leonard would ask if there was any shrapnel in his chest that was making him feel so empty inside. But Dowd's constipated concerned face just makes Leonard cringe, and really it's just not worth it.

The closest Leonard gets to feeling something other than pain at the thought of having to bury his girls and annoyance at Dowd's general existence, is in the quiet moments when he's between sleep and wakefulness, when he catches the scent of Joanna's shampoo, or he can feel Jocelyn's fingers brushing against his, and it's enough to settle him into a dreamless sleep, until he wakes up with a sinking realisation that they're still gone.

That they're always going to be gone now.

"I know when you're pretending to sleep, Leo." He's jolted awake when someone hits his foot with a chart, and he's really not surprised when he opens his eyes to see Christine Chapel standing at the foot of his bed, chart in her hand and a smirk on her face.

"Your bedside manner is awful."

"Coming from you?"

"Your scrubs make you look old and pale."

"I missed you too. The ER isn't the same without your scowls lighting up the place." Chapel hits his foot with her chart again and grins. "I'd hug you but I'd probably get told off for sexually harassing a patient."

"I'd rather you sexually harass me than Dowd. His hair is obnoxious; it's probably slowing down my recovery. Can I complain about that? I'd like to."

"Obnoxious hair colour, got it." Chapel actually writes something down, which surprises Leonard for about five seconds before she turns it round to show a drawing of a stick man.

"You're a dick."

"Yeah but I do great IVs." There's a moment when Chapel frowns, and it looks like she wants to say something, but there must be something in his expression that makes her decide against it, because she just goes with; "Is there anything I can do, Leo? Can I do anything for you?"

"Can you bring my family back?" Chapel's face falls and she reaches for his hand, giving it a squeeze. He avoids thinking about the fact that she can only hold the one now.

"No, sweetie, I can't."

"Then no. There's nothing."

"I thought so. I'm sorry."

"I get told that a lot lately." It's the best he's felt since he woke up, but it also leaves him feeling so drained it's almost like he's suffering from blood loss all over again, and he finds himself drifting off to sleep even as Chapel holds his hand.

"Do you have any special requests?"

For my wife and daughter to be alive and my left arm to still be attached? Is what he thinks, but in the end Leonard just shrugs and says; "Joanna likes green."

The woman arranging the funeral is nice enough, short with wild black curls. But she keeps giving him this wide smile, and it'd be unsettling at the best of times, but when she's asking him what kind of wood he'd like to use for the coffins, it becomes more than a little bit psychotic.

She's just getting to what kind of music Leonard wants when his saviour comes in the form of Mrs Nyota Uhura-Spock.

Leonard's always liked Nyota. He's known her ever since Jocelyn came home from work one day beaming about the "lovely Miss Uhura" that had just joined her at the real estate agency, and within days Nyota and her, somewhat strange, boyfriend Spock (his first name isn't English, and as far as Leonard's aware, Nyota is the only one outside of Spock's family that can actually pronounce it) were round for dinner.

He'd kiss her for interrupting the crazy woman in charge of the funeral if it weren't for the fact Spock could probably break him in two if he really wanted.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, but I really need to talk to Mr McCoy here. Alone." Nyota smiles, it's a tight smile, but the crazy woman leaves with a promise to return tomorrow.

"Do you think I can fake being asleep for a whole day?"

"No, Leo, you definitely cannot fake being asleep for a whole day, and that's not what I came to talk to you about anyway and you know it." Nyota grabs his hand, rubbing her thumb over the veins in his wrist. Leonard wonders if she'll let him spend the conversation admiring her nails. He doubts it. "What are you gonna do when you leave the hospital?"

"Go home?"

"To your empty house? I don't think so." Nyota taps his chin up with her free hand, and Leonard looks up to see she actually looks concerned, despite the harsh tone. "You're staying with me and Spock."

"But you're both morning people."

"Yeah, but we can make bacon sandwiches and coffee for you."

They would, as well, that's the thing. They've done it before, when Leonard and Jocelyn have spent the night at their house. They dance around each other in the kitchen with ease, and all Leonard can think of is the last pancake day they spent together, helping Joanna flip the pancakes and getting more pancake mix on themselves than in the actual pan, and it's like all the things he hasn't been able to feel burst out of him, and he finds himself sobbing into Nyota's shoulder as her arms slide around his neck.

It's a while before he manages to calm himself down, while Nyota holds him, only moving to find a more comfortable place on the bed, not even bitching Leonard out for getting tears and possibly snot on her silk shirt.

"I miss them, Nyota."

"Oh sweetie, I know. I miss them too."

They stay like that until Leonard falls asleep, and when he wakes up, Nyota's left a note saying she'll deal with the crazy funeral woman.

It's the closest Leonard's come to feeling normal since he woke up.

M'Benga finally shows his face the day before Leonard's due to be released. He thinks Chapel actually pulled some strings to get Leonard some peace from Dowd and his bizarre hair, because the only people he's had to deal with for a few days are Nyota and various nurses.

He's recently been trusted to wash his body by himself with a hand towel in the bathroom, but the nurses still insist that doing his hair is a two handed job and therefore, Leonard needs help.

So when M'Benga walks in, Leonard can't really blame him for the way he just stops and stares. Nyota took pictures on her phone; he knows just how ridiculous he looks with a head full of bubbles.

"Do they put conditioner in too?"

"Fuck off." They do, actually, but M'Benga doesn't need to know that.

"Still as charming as ever."

"I try. What are you doing here?"

"I'm uh," Geoffrey looks down at his shoes and shifts his weight. Leonard wonders if this is what he looked like when he asked his wife on that first date, but then he images Geoffrey asking him on a date and cringes. "I'm your ride. For tomorrow, I mean."

For Jocelyn and Joanna's funeral.

"Oh. Right. Thanks."

"Nick said you might have some trouble with the car? We could walk, if you want. It'd take a while but it's doable."

"Nick?"

"Dowd. His first name is Nick."

"His hair is stupid, and why does he think I'd have trouble with the car?"

Geoffrey's looking at him like he thinks Leonard belongs on the psychiatric ward, and it actually takes a moment for Leonard to realise what they're worried about.

"I'm not scared of cars all of a sudden."

"Leo, you might not feel that way when you're actually in one. You could be suffering from emotional trauma and–"

"I don't have a wife or daughter anymore for you to kill if you crash the car; I think I'll be fine."

He feels bad when Geoffrey flinches, but Leonard is still somewhat numb to the world, even after his sob session with Nyota all that happened was that he woke up tired and still not hungry.

Dowd is worried about his weight loss, and Nyota made a face that meant she really wanted to shout at him for it but he was still too pathetic for her to go through it.

Eventually Geoffrey leaves when it's obvious they don't actually have that much to talk about when one of them is shit scared of saying something wrong, and the other doesn't really have much interest in anything anymore.

Leonard finds himself staring out the window that night, watching the stars. It doesn't feel real. In less than 24 hours, he'll be standing at his family's grave, and none of it feels real.

The morning of the funeral and Leonard's release date – Leonard is pretty sure none of them trust him to be released any other time and turn up to the funeral sober – is quiet.

He washes himself in the bathroom then lets Chapel wash and dry his hair for him, saying nothing when she runs her fingers through his hair for a few minutes after she's finished.

"I'll be here, if you need me." Her voice is a whisper, like she's scared of breaking the quiet of the bathroom, and Leonard would laugh at her but when he speaks, his voice is just as quiet.

"I know."

M'Benga shows up with his suit just after Chapel leaves, and Leonard wonders if there's a plan to avoid overwhelming him or something, and if there was Leonard has no doubt it was Dowd's idea, but he's distracted by sleeves and trouser legs before he can question Geoffrey about it.

"He did a good job, Dowd. He did a good job."

"That's good. At least now I'm a cripple with a dead family and no job that's gonna have a pretty scar. You have no idea how much that was weighing me down."

Geoffrey doesn't say anything, just focuses his attentions back on Leonard's tie, because, hey, guess what you can't do with just one hand.

There's a part of Leonard that wishes someone will call him out on how he's acting, will tell him to stop being an asshole. But they won't, and a much larger part of Leonard is glad, because until someone asks them what colour dress their six year old daughter would've liked so they canbury her in it, they can all deal with Leonard being an asshole.

"Leo..." M'Benga's looking like he wishes he was anywhere but here right now, and he's fiddling with a large needle of some sort. "I need to– can I pin the sleeve up?"

"Go ahead, it's not like it's doing much good just swinging around there really."

Eventually though, when Geoffrey's made sure Leonard's set and ready, he's finally allowed to leave the hospital.

Dowd meets them at the reception, and talks at Leonard while he signs all the release forms. Leonard tells Geoffrey it's really lucky that Leonard's left handed, and Geoffrey makes a face like Leonard kicked him in the balls. Dowd remains oblivious to the whole conversation, and just tells him dates to come in to start therapy and discuss a synthetic, which Leonard ignores completely.

They manage to make it all the way to the car park before someone gives him a weird look, Leonard is almost impressed.

"Are you going to be okay, Leonard?" Dowd asks, and Leonard frowns at him until he gestures towards the car. "You don't have to go, maybe it's too soon."

"I kind of do though." Leonard opens the passenger door. "You only get to attend your wife and daughter's funeral once, right?"

This time, both M'Benga and Dowd make a face like Leonard kicked them in the balls, and all he can think is that it's probably for the best neither were present when Nyota told him it was okay to be scared of getting in another crash, and that he told her he was only scared that he'd survive if he did.

"Can we just go? I've heard its bad taste not to show up to your family's funeral on time."

Geoffrey's expression turns even more distressed before he turns and promises Dowd he'll get Leonard to his appointments on time, and then finally Leonard is off hospital grounds.

Just like he knew he would be, Leonard is fine throughout the journey, until they're about ten minutes out and suddenly he realises he's not going to make it through the day without having some sort of breakdown unless he's got something to keep him going.

"Pull in here."

"Leonard you left hospital less than an hour ago." Geoffrey sends Leonard a disapproving glare when he sees what Leonard wants, and of course it's when Leonard genuinely needs something that people decide to say no to him.

"Geoffrey, please." He tries to ignore the way his voice cracks half way through, but he knows Geoffrey doesn't, and that's the only reason the man is pressing a bottle of bourbon and a flask into his hand 10 minutes later.

"I just–" Geoffrey rubs at his face, and lets out a sigh that makes his whole body deflates, and when he turns to Leonard he looks like he's aged 10 years. "Just call me, if you need anything. Call me, or Christine, or even Nick. Just– just call someone, Leo. Please. Don't do something stupid, we're here for you. All you need to do is call."

"Yeah, okay. I will."

They both know he won't, and Geoffrey lets out another sigh before he starts driving again. They don't speak until they're at the church.

It's a nice church, with a nice priest. Leonard knows because it's where he went to church as a child, and it's where they buried his mother. It's where he got married. It's where he buried his father, and now it's going to be where he's going to bury his wife and daughter.

Leonard wonders how many family members you have to bury before they give you a discount.

No one notices Leonard or Geoffrey until Jocelyn's parents greet him, and then everyone turns to look at him. Or rather, they turn to look at the pinned up left sleeve of his suit.

Leonard takes a long drink from his flask and everyone finds something else interesting pretty quickly.

Jocelyn's parents insist on making sure he's okay, which is weird because he always got the impression they were never really 100% sold on him until Joanna was born, but he supposes he's the only connection to their daughter and granddaughter they have left, which is confirmed when they keep repeating how they're glad he made it, that they didn't lose all three of them. Leonard thinks that maybe they did, because he still feels cold and numb inside. By the end of the conversation, Leonard's taken more drinks than he planned on, but they both graciously choose to ignore it.

He manages to get inside the church with no one else talking to him apart from his grandparents, who hug him tight and tell him they're proud of how brave he's being.

He wants to tell them he isn't brave, he was just unlucky enough to survive where his family didn't, but Nyota and Spock find him before he gets the chance and drag him into the church. It's probably for the best.

The priest finds him a few minutes before the funeral starts and asks him if he'd like to say a few words.

Leonard declines and if the priest looks relieved at hearing that, they both ignore it.

Nyota and Spock are behind him, Spock resting a hand on Leonard's shoulder for a few seconds before he sits down, and it helps something relax ever so slightly in Leonard's chest.

It doesn't last for long though, because he has his grandparents on his right, and Jocelyn's parents on his left, and he's lucky Nyota refilled his flask for him with just a disapproving glare right before they entered the church, because Jocelyn's mom keeps flinching away from his side whenever she brushes against it and realises it's not his arm

Leonard manages to tune out most of the service, trusting Nyota to nudge him if he needs to pay attention, and by the time they stand to head to the graveyard he reckons he's mastered taking swigs from his flask when the priest isn't looking.

He really wishes he was surprised when they stepped out of the church into rain, but his life has become such a movie cliché that all that's missing right now is the sad music.

Nyota walks ahead to talk to Jocelyn's parents, probably aware that Leonard didn't exactly step up to the plate. It's insane, how fast she can walk in heels really.

"You haven't asked if I'm okay." Leonard knows without looking that Spock has his eyebrow raised, and he shrugs, looking up to see that yes, the infamous eyebrow is in fact raised. "Everyone else has asked if I'm okay, I thought it must be mandatory or something."

"Funerals are not pleasant experiences, Leonard. I would be extremely surprised if you were okay, given the circumstances."

Leonard remembers attending Spock's mother's funeral with Jocelyn. It had been strange, seeing Spock like that. Seeing him emotional, seeing him vulnerable. It makes Leonard think that yeah, maybe Spock does understand.

"I keep trying to put my left hand in my pocket." He didn't mean to say it, because if Christine or M'Benga find out, they'll try and sit him back down in Dowd's office for therapy and hand holding, but either he's drunker than he thought or just too tired to care, because that's what comes out.

Spock just nods, and puts his hand on Leonard's shoulder, guiding him to where Nyota is standing by Leonard's grandparents at the grave.

His flask is half empty by the time Joanna's coffin is resting alongside her mother's in the grave, but Leonard's throat still dries up when the size difference between the two coffins hits home. He thinks he made a noise because suddenly his grandma is there, wrapping her arm around his waist and holding him tight.

Nyota brushes her fingers against his hand when it's time to actually bury them, and he manages to function just long enough to grab a handful of dirt and let it fall onto their coffins, and then the next thing he knows, he's sitting on his bed at home a note from Nyota on the bedside table saying she'll pick him up in the morning so he can spend a while with her and Spock, and the bottle of bourbon sitting next to it.

His body feels stiff and heavy, but eventually he manages to move just enough to grab the bourbon and head into Joanna's room, settling down on the floor next to her bed. It must only be an hour before he falls asleep, the amount of liquid in the bottle much lower than when he started, and the scent of Joanna's shampoo reaching him from her pillows.

It's still dark when Leonard opens his eyes next, and for the life of him he can't figure out why he's on the floor of Joanna's room.

"Baby girl?" He tries to push himself onto his feet, because Joanna must've just had a bad dream, and he's only got a few hours of sleep before he's got to be up for his shift at the hospital, but he loses balances and falls, hitting the ground with a dull thud that brings everything flooding back.

Leonard can't push himself up onto his feet properly because he lost his left arm in the car crash.

Joanna didn't have another bad dream because she's lying cold in a box six feet under.

He can't crawl back into bed with Jocelyn because she's next to their daughter, dead in a wooden box.

The numb feeling in his chest is replaced with an overwhelming sense of loss, and it hurts so bad all Leonard can do is sob until his throat is sore and his tears have dried up, and when that happens, he drinks.

He drinks until he's blissfully numb again, and he's surrounded with memories of his girls, memories that remind him how beautiful they were. How happy, beautiful, and alive they were.

One of the first things Leonard had been asked about the funeral was if he had wanted an open casket. He didn't even think about it before he rejected the idea, because the thought of that being the last time he saw his girls? Cold and pale, painted up in some mimicry of life? That's not what he wanted. That wouldn't have been his girls.

If he has to have one last memory of them, he wants it to be of them laughing, of them laughing and breathing and being alive. If he has to have one thing to last him for the rest of his life, that's what he wants, not what some stranger thinks he wants.

He falls asleep like that; suit and shoes still on, bottle of bourbon lying half empty next to him and tear tracks drying on his face. But just before he does, he thinks of the way his grandma prayed during his father's funeral, and the way she prayed again today.

Leonard tries to remember if he believes in God, but all he can see are the four gravestones with the last name McCoy carved into them.

If there is a God, Leonard just hopes that he takes mercy on him, and lets this end sooner rather than later.