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Chapter Three: One Step Forward
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"The language of friendship is not words but meanings."
Henry David Thoreau
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James Tiberius Kirk had a reputation. Although Bones—that is, McCoy—had been vaguely aware of it in the most distant, impersonal sense possible, it now became a glaring reality that seemed eager to slap him in the face at every turn.
Once he'd made it clear to the kid that he didn't intend to base any relationship on fame, or lack thereof, he began to realize that others didn't feel quite the same way. On a daily basis he suddenly found other cadets flocking to him, asking in hushed tones and suspicious whispers if he was friends with Jim Kirk and how had he managed it? Others, who had never given a damn about him one way or the other, suddenly avoided him like the plague.
McCoy was wondering if he needed to seriously reevaluate his opinion of James Kirk.
Leonard was a quiet man; it might even be said that he was something of a recluse. He didn't really cater to the late-night party crowds. He was getting on in years, at least in comparison to the kids around him, and he wasn't too proud to admit that sometimes he would much rather kick back in his dorm with a bottle of bourbon that go paint the town red with a pretty stranger he might never see again. This might be one reason that he had never heard most of the terrible rumors circulating around campus about his new friend.
For one, Jim was considered a lady's man in the worst possible sense of the word. So perhaps this one had the ring of truth to it, since Jim frequently spent his nights out and about in the arms of various female companions, but Leonard had yet to witness this behavior differ very much from every other cocky cadet at the academy. In some ways he was better, considering he actually got his damn studying done (though where he found the time, Leonard would never know).
Another involved the idea that he was somehow deeply ingratiated to some of the academy professors and faculty. It couldn't be denied that he was called in to Captain Pike's office on a regular basis, which leant some credence to the theory, but considering that he never spoke a word of what went on behind closed doors during his visits Leonard thought it a bit of a stretch to assume that he was experiencing anything more than a casual conversation—perhaps a chastisement, at worst.
Other rumors abounded, of course, most without any kind of real evidence to give them weight: Jim Kirk was a cheater; he always had perfect grades. Jim was lazy, frequently skipping class or skimping on assignments. Kirk was a brawler, out to pick a fight with anything or anyone that looked at him sideways. James Kirk was a leech, riding his father's claim to fame through the academy processes and regulations.
That last one always made McCoy's blood boil. There was something so inherently wrong about rubbing something like that in the face of a kid who was just trying to make it though life on his own merit. Not to mention the emotional pain it must cause Jim to be constantly reminded that he would never know his father, but also that said father was a much-talked about hero of the Federation to whom he was being consistently compared. And then for someone to imply that Kirk might be taking advantage of his own tragedy for personal gain? Apparently, none of these Starfleet half-wits knew him at all.
Which lead Leonard to his next observation. Other than McCoy, whom he annoyed—that is, hung out with—constantly, Jim kept his own company almost strictly. Sure he flirted his scrawny ass off with the female cadets, but not one of them could claim any kind of relationship with him beyond a night or two of passionate "fun".
Maybe this observation was what kept Leonard from doing more than grumbling avidly every time the kid showed up on one of his hospital shifts just to "shoot the breeze", as he put it. He popped into his classes to sit in; he dragged McCoy to all of his many abstract haunts just so he wouldn't have to drink alone.
He took the kid's explanations in stride, but the doctor had the nagging suspicion that he was actually Jim Kirk's only friend.
Which was strange, because despite the wild rumors and theories about him, almost everyone seemed to like him. He had a magnetic personality and devilish charm that people just couldn't say no to: even most of the professors were wholly enchanted by the Iowa farm boy with the sky-blue eyes. Not to mention that he was smarter than hell: McCoy was awed the first time Jim spoke up in class and began explaining advanced theories on sub-space transitional geometry to the goddamn professor.
That said, there were, apparently, several cadets who didn't like Jim. Namely, Jameson, Lenot, and Burgess, all third-year students. Lenot was on the command track like Jim, while Jameson and Burgess were both in Security Officer training. All three seemed quite intent on making Jim's time at the academy a living hell. Mostly this took the form of harassment and verbal battles, but Leonard felt it was bound to escalate. Jim didn't seem keen on taking steps to protect himself, but that didn't mean McCoy wasn't going to keep his eyes peeled. He'd already come to the conclusion that these three clowns had been the ones responsible for Jim's state of being weeks before, when Kirk and McCoy had been reintroduced to one another in such an odd way that it could have only been fate. Who knew what else they had been and might yet be involved in?
Coming to the realization that for some reason, he was the only one in the whole damn academy who James Kirk had chosen to allow into his life had a profound effect on McCoy's day to day life. He didn't really have to drone through his boring, featureless days with no end or goal in sight. Funny how much of a difference companionship could make. For one thing, he suddenly had a foolproof drinking buddy. No-one listened to the kid much anyway, so his lips were sealed. McCoy could rant and rave about his ex-wife, his beautiful daughter, and anything else he damn well pleased, and Jim was a solid steel vault.
Jim was not nearly as open about himself, but that was fine with McCoy—for now. He focused on getting the kid to realize that he wasn't about to turn tail and run on him. The trust could come later.
And Leonard had, at some point in the last several months, added gaining Jim's trust to his long list of life aspirations. The kid hid it well from most people, but he was clearly a walking textbook of deeply-buried psychological problems. Leonard had minored in Psychology back in Georgia, and as much as he tried not to let that knowledge be the filter through which he saw his friend, sometimes Jim just reminded him so damn much of those classes that he couldn't help it. He hid weakness with ridiculous arrogance and over-played humor; he was naturally evasive and deflected any uncomfortably personal questions. He had people, places, whole years in his life that he simply wouldn't speak about: it was like a brick wall went up as soon as the conversation came too close.
Maybe all of these things should have been warning signs to Leonard that he was getting too involved: that he needed to back off and give the kid room and what did Leonard care if he was a mental time-bomb just ticking away? As hard as he tried, McCoy just couldn't bring himself to lock this kid out. Hell, he hadn't given a damn what happened to anyone since his wife had stopped letting him see his daughter on holidays.
And yet now, he found himself getting angry when Jim came to class with no way to take notes and a broken PADD because "someone" had broken into his dorm room and thrown all of his books and electronics into the sink, or when he couldn't come drinking that night because "someone" had trashed his dorm and his wallet had turned up missing.
It wasn't until he ran into the kid in the cafeteria sporting another black eye over his almost-healed shiner from two weeks before that McCoy got really mad.
"Goddamnit Jim, this can't go on." He hissed as he slid into a seat across from his friend.
"Nice to see you too, Bones." Jim smiled at him but cut it short when the expression pulled at his split lip.
"Who did that to you?" Leonard demanded, eyes narrowing.
"I got into a tussle with a couple of the other cadets in advanced hand-to-hand." Jim was getting too good at hiding the defensive undertones in his voice. "It was no big deal."
"I've heard a lot of domestic abuse victims say the same thing." Leonard insisted. "You can't keep playing it off."
Kirk laughed. "Jesus, you're paranoid."
"Some would say I'm honest."
"Some are insane." Jim's voice was getting sharp; he clearly didn't want to pursue the matter.
"I don't get it, Jim." McCoy stabbed his fork viciously into the piece of chicken on his plate. "I'm a doctor. Did you really think I would just ignore the fact that every time I see you, you're limping or bleeding?"
"I would hope, that as my friend, you would respect my privacy."
Jim was getting testy, but it was the first time had ever referred to them as friends. Somehow, it warmed McCoy's heart. Or maybe that was just his growing rage at this infuriating kid.
They ate in tense silence for several long minutes. At least, McCoy ate—ripping pieces of food from his plate and jamming them into his mouth without really paying attention to what he was consuming. Jim mostly pushed his food around with his fork, eyebrows drawn together.
McCoy ignored him. He was trying to come up with a good, solid reason that he was actually willing to stick around this idiot. They argued liked an old married couple and could hardly stand to be around each other at times: and yet here they were. By some miracle, they always wound up back in the same place, at the same time, somehow enjoying each other's company through flying insults and bad tempers. It was beyond the doctor's comprehension.
"You want to go to the Beacon tomorrow night?" Jim asked awkwardly after a few minutes of waiting without luck for the tension to dispel.
"No, I don't." McCoy snapped. "I actually have a job, remember? I have a twelve hour emergency sector shift tomorrow night after class, and by god if you show your face around the ER it had better be for a checkup."
"Okay then." Jim laughed. "No need to bite my head off; I was just asking."
Leonard glowered at his friend, wondering how many hits he could take to the skull before he got the stubborn streak beaten out of him.
"So… I'm gonna go." Jim suggested with a smile, correctly interpreting Leonard's dangerous expression. "I don't want to get chopped up and stuffed in a trash can, or something."
McCoy didn't stop him as Kirk dumped his tray of uneaten food into the nearest compactor and left the cafeteria.
If Jim's wide array of obsessive enemies didn't get to him first, McCoy swore he was really going to kill him someday.
.
Jim didn't show up the next night. McCoy couldn't decide if he was more worried or grateful for this fact. Either way, he was able to get through most of his graveyard shift without incident. Well, other than the usual.
"Doctor McCoy," a nurse informed him, "We have a patient in ER."
"I don't suppose Briggs could take it?" Leonard took the file from her hand reluctantly.
She looked apologetic. "On break."
"Of course he is." Mumbling under his breath, Leonard headed for the small office. It just figured: ten hours without major incident was too good to be true.
"Conroy?" He asked as he stepped into the cramped space, referencing the file.
"Yeah." The cadet eyed him. "Matt."
"Well, Matt." Leonard pulled a stool towards him with his foot and plopped down onto it. "What seems to be the problem?"
"I need to get some kind of knockout pill or something." Matt complained. "I really need to get some sleep and it's just impossible."
"Oh, and why is that?" McCoy raised a bored eyebrow at him. Conroy wasn't the first cadet to come crawling to medical for sleep aids. Most of them needed nothing more than a full day off from parties and classes and some uninterrupted sleep.
"My roommate. He's always awake, and then there's these guys always trashing his room."
Leonard blinked. "Who's your roommate?"
"Uh, Kirk. Jim Kirk."
Of course.
"So you're telling me that you want a sleeping pill of some kind because your roommate keeps you awake." McCoy tried not to let the sarcasm he was feeling seep into his voice too much.
"Dude, he's like always awake." Matt went on, sensing Leonard's doubt. "I'm not kidding. And it's worse when he actually does go to bed. He always wakes up screaming and shit, like right in the middle of the night."
Oh, Jim. Leonard's heart clenched.
"And you didn't bother trying to figure out why this roommate of yours doesn't sleep?" McCoy could no longer hide his sarcasm. "Maybe you could help him out. Maybe he needs help."
"I don't really care." Matt sighed. "I just wish he would switch rooms or something. I have midterms coming up, man."
"Don't call me 'man'."
"Sorry. Doctor."
"That's better. Now, I'll tell you what you don't need: that's a sleeping pill."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Not in the least." McCoy scowled. "I think you need to get your roommate to come see me and we'll see about getting him some natural, unmedicated rest. I have a hunch the rest will follow."
"You're the worst doctor ever." Conroy whined.
"You're the worst roommate ever." McCoy raised his eyebrow at Matt's indignant expression. "It's not like there's nothing you could do. Why not help the guy out? Keep these pranksters out of your dorm?"
"Seriously, I don't give a shit about this guy." Matt frowned. "He's kind of a freak. And the other cadets never mess with my room; that's why I let them in. They're just having a little fun is all."
Gotcha.
"So you not only sit on your ass while these screwballs mess with your roommate, but you let them into your dorm. Is that what you're telling me?"
Matt froze, eyes widening a fraction. He was clearly recalling certain dormitory regulations regarding the intrusion and destruction of other cadets' personal property.
Leonard leaned forward menacingly, lowering his voice. "Now unless you have something seriously wrong with you, and by my estimations, you don't, I suggest you get your ass out of my office before I report your activities to campus security."
Leonard didn't need to warn the kid twice. The cadet shot out of his office before McCoy could think of anything else to say to him.
He frowned at the swinging door for a few moments after the boy disappeared.
It seemed like he and James Kirk had a lot to talk about.
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Well, now we're getting to the good part. ;)
Thanks for sticking with me, and if you haven't caught it yet, I posted a little something extra for you this week. A One-Shot called "Breaking Stride" is now up on my profile. It follows "Make It Home", so if you didn't get quite enough of the angst in that story maybe this can scratch your itch. Go check it out, maybe leave some love. :]
I don't have time to answer reviews today, but I definitely will next week. Just know that I greatly appreciate your support and I hope further chapters will motivate you to stick around.
Take care!
DeepBlue