Broken
Storyshark2005
~-O-~
Chapter Three: Home Again
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He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
-Excerpt, 'Funeral Blues', W.H. Auden
-O-
USS Enterprise, docked. Earth Spacedock, Standard Orbit, Planet Earth
-O-
After three years in deep space, charting new systems, discovering new planets, and contacting new species, Jim Kirk was finally coming home. At the very least of all that had happened, Jim was where he belonged. He was not vaporized on some godforsaken alien planet, or floating lifeless in the dark vacuum of space. He was home.
Or at least that was the thought consoling a good number of crewmen aboard the Enterprise. For Leonard McCoy, it held no such consolation.
Because it was a lie. Jim had been home for the past three years- probably for the first time in his life. It wasn't Earth, or even out there, that intangible place among the stars. Home was where the heart was, and Jim Kirk's heart had been with his family.
Not with Winona Kirk. Not in Iowa. Not since George Kirk's blue eyes had started to stare out at her from her youngest son's face. Ghosts hung in the dusty farmhouse, tangible in the silence of the rooms, and especially present on that never celebrated or acknowledged day in March. Normal boys had birthdays. Normal boys had mothers that saw them, not long dead fathers with electric blue eyes.
No, Jim's family was his crew. Their lives rested on his shoulders, their hopes and dreams floated in the back of his mind, ever present. Their spirits ran thick through his veins. He lived for them, fought for them, and the final act of devotion, died for them.
And the two closest to him, his brothers, his confidantes, his flank on each shoulder, were now missing their point. McCoy glanced over at Spock. His dark eyes were dead. He stood even with him a few feet to the left, just enough room for one more person…
McCoy's fists clenched white and he focused his eyes forward to the docking bay doors. His dress uniform felt ill-fitting and inappropriate. It probably had little to do with the actual cut of the fabric- it had been replicated to a custom fit, thanks to the physical specifications stored in the Starfleet database. The last time he had worn it, he, Jim and Spock were shaking hands with the Galatian Dominatae.
The light above the dock doors suddenly turned green and an alarm sounded, echoing through the bay. He saw Spock stiffen beside him, and McCoy took a subtle step closer while the Vulcan deftly straightened his uniform one last time.
The groan of heavy metal shifting and a low hiss of air held the room still, and the doors slid open.
Two red-shirted security officers stepped over the threshold and stood at attention. One of them pulled a small electronic device to his lips, emitting a series of high pitched whistles.
The Admiralty stepped through.
There were two of them. Given the circumstances, Starfleet had brought out the big brass. Rear Admiral Paris was expected. He was the flag officer running the gigantic operation that was Earth Spacedock, Starfleet's primary space station and the Federation's first foothold into open space. Only 40 years old, he was the Admiralty's poster boy. His sharp grey eyes and dark brown hair contrasted with the woman to his right.
Uum Hatim Khadija al-Jameel bint Haidar ibn Nadir, or Admiral Khadija, stood tall and intimidating, her stern demeanor made slightly glorious by her dark bronze skin, wide brown eyes, and inky black hair. Her cheekbones were high and regal, her nose prominent. Everything about her was sharp, intelligent, intimidating. She was a strict follower of protocol and a stickler to the rules. The Admiralty adored her and she prospered there, much more so than she had in a Captain's chair. She also had a sharp political mind, and had a talent for spin and doublespeak- she was often the Flag Officer chosen to break news to the press, with whom she had kindled a close relationship. At 53, she was on a fast track to higher ranks- it was expected to be a day not far in the future that she would be wearing the brass of a Fleet Admiral.
They were wrapped in the red and white of Starfleet Command, metallic gold clamped their wrists in Admiral's stripes, and piping of the same color trimmed the edges.
"Captain Spock. However averse the circumstances, it's good to have you back home."
Spock stiffened at the address, but dipped his head slightly. "Admiral Paris."
Paris seemed to wait for further response, but Spock gave none. He bit back a sour frown, quickly schooling his features into what McCoy assumed was a professionally neutral expression.
Khadija cut the silence.
"Well, Captain. I'm afraid you and the good doctor will have to wait until you brief to meet family and friends. Obviously we have a lot of questions to ask and issues to sort out before any public statement can be made. We can't risk either of you coming into contact with the press. Our people will unload the body, and we'll escort you to Command HQ. You'll be debriefed by Fleet Admiral Leto."
McCoy almost choked on his tongue, but managed to cover it up with a coughing fit. Khadija fixed him with a piercing glare. He quickly got a hold of himself.
"Doctor. May I assume you are fit for your debriefing? We will of course adhere to protocol if you have any pressing medical concerns."
He shook his head and gave the only correct answer.
"No ma'am. After you…"
She nodded, and turned back through the corridor, Paris on her heels.
Spock gave him a pointed look before following.
Leonard rolled his eyes and hurried after with a frustrated curse.
-O-
Office of Fleet Admiral Julius Leto
Starfleet Command, San Francisco, Earth
-O-
McCoy slouched deeper in his chair and yanked open the shoulder flap of his uniform, letting it hang open and vent some of the heat toasting his core. His fingers drummed on the armrest, and he glanced up at the chrono on the opposite wall.
"It's been three hours, Spock."
"You are correct, Doctor, though not exactly precise. It has been two hours and forty six minutes since we were escorted to this room."
McCoy frowned. "Don't you find that a little odd?"
"Admiral Khadija has already informed us that Admiral Leto will be delayed."
"I thought this was supposed to be important or something. Like if we talked to anybody the world was gonna blow up. What could possibly be keeping him for three hours? And don't you think it's a little odd we're being debriefed by a Fleet Admiral. Why the hell don't they have a Commodore, or a Rear Admiral do it?"
"This situation is unprecedented. And there are many possible explanations for the Admiral's delay."
"Yeah, just not many probable ones. As for being unprecedented, aren't you forgetting all the funerals we had to go to three years ago?"
Spock exhaled, and averted his gaze. "No, Doctor. I have not forgotten."
"Shit, Spock, that's not what I meant…goddammit, look, I mean to the Admiralty, Jim's not….I mean they thought he was a hotshot. Accidents happen all the time, and even though….even though he's Jim to us…to them, he wasn't-"
"Which is why there is more to this situation than we are seeing. The Captain did not inform us of all the details involved in this mission. Obviously meeting the Fleet Admiral is a result of the delicate nature of Jim's assignment."
Leonard turned back in his seat to sulk. "I'm so sick of all this bureaucratic bull shit. I just want to see my daughter and go home for a few days."
Any response from Spock was cut off as the door once hissed open. Spock stood as the man entered.
"Admiral Leto."
"Commander Spock. Good to have you back! I apologize, I was just called away from shore leave for this….er, regrettable business. Come on in and let's get this over with."
Leto was around sixty, short, and bald. He carried himself proudly, as befitted a Fleet Admiral. McCoy had never liked him. Julius Leto was pompous and bureaucratic- everything Leonard hated about the military. Every medal he had ever received hung glittering garishly on his chest. Jim's medal of commendation was shut in the box it had been presented in, shoved back in one of the drawers of Jim's desk. Still on the Enterprise.
Leto disappeared into the next room. Spock looked back down at McCoy.
"Doctor, your daughter will be waiting for you in a few hours. Starfleet will have procured proper accommodations."
He wiped a hand over his face. He really didn't want to talk to this asshole about Jim. He just wanted to go home and try and…forget. He needed to get away from this place, Starfleet, these people…just get away. Somewhere. Home.
Spock held out a hand.
Leonard, slightly taken aback, automatically took the offered hand. It was odd- he had probably never touched Spock in the whole three years they'd worked together. The warm hand pulled him to his feet, leaving his skin buzzing slightly. Probably that touch-telepathy thing. God, I hope he didn't just read my mind or something….
He followed the tall Vulcan through the red and silver doors.
Here we go…
"So, " the Admiral sat heavily behind his desk. "Why don't we start from the very beginning. I realize this may be a difficult conversation, but I assure you gentlemen that it is a necessary one. I want to know- Starfleet wants to know- what Jim Kirk was doing out there in Romulan space?"
Spock had just organized all his fingers neatly in his lap. His eyebrows shot up marginally. "Those details were not available to the doctor or myself for obvious reasons. I assumed that you had been briefed on the nature of the Captain's mission."
"Mission? Hold on, Mr. Spock. What mission?"
"The goddamned top secret mission that sent him out there in the first place! The mission that you assholes sent him on-"
"Doctor, please. Mr. Spock, can you explain further. I've been briefed by every branch under my command, including covert ops. Captain Kirk was under no orders from us. Now, everyone's asking me why the hell he was out there and I need answers."
"NO." McCoy stood, shaking. "NO, you do NOT get to tell me that you need any fucking answers. My best friend, my fucking brother, just got killed on some godforsaken planet, on orders from your people- he was scared shitless and he couldn't even tell me what was wrong. Something wasn't right, and he couldn't- he couldn't even…" he broke off, furious and on the edge of tears. 'Doctor…' He felt his throat tighten and his face felt hot and Jim…goddammit he was losing it 'Doctor…' and this fucking asshole was just sitting there and Jim was in a fucking box somewhere 'Doctor McCoy…' and he didn't even care, didn't give a damn about Jim, he just wanted to fill out his fucking report-
'BONES'
A warm weight settled on his shoulder. The fog clouding his vision seemed to clear out at the edges. A softer voice now.
"Bones…"
Spock was standing with a hand on McCoy's shoulder. They stared at each other for a minute, until Spock pulled his hand back and quickly tucked it behind his back. He breathed deeper, reigning in emotions warring just behind his dark eyes. Without saying another word to his wide-eyed friend, the Vulcan turned back to the Admiral and lowered himself back down into his seat.
"Excuse, us Admiral. I believe Doctor McCoy is simply trying to relate that this new information is inconsistent with what we know to be true. The Captain, Doctor McCoy and myself were on Galacia Prime for negotiations…Captain Kirk was to engage in these negations for, presumably, either Starfleet or the Federation's behalf. Captain Kirk was unable to relay to us any specific information regarding the situation. The Doctor and I were there as…protection and companionship. As Doctor McCoy has said, the Captain was…distressed. For these reasons, we do not have the necessary information to ascertain why he was on this mission- we do, however, know he was on a covert mission from Starfleet. I am sure, with the correct command codes, you will see that Captain Kirk received a transmission from Starfleet Command prior to our departure to the planet."
"Well, Commander, we've already checked from our end. No transmissions, of any Priority level, were transmitted to the Enterprise during that time."
"Perhaps if it was a Command Code 47. There would be no record-"
"Not on the Enterprise Commander, no. But even a Starfleet Command Code 47 isn't completely invisible to a Fleet Admiral. I assure you, Commander, I have the necessary resources to find out if Captain Kirk had received a priority 47. He did not."
Spock fell silent, and McCoy could see the wheels of his mind frantically searching for an answer. He leaned forward, glaring across the desk.
"Are you trying to tell me that you think Jim was on some kind of personal vendetta, on his own accord, in Romulan space? That you didn't know anything about this?"
The Admiral leaned forward, leering, stinking of sweat and sickly sweet aftershave. "That is exactly what I am saying, Doctor McCoy."
Spock interrupted before Leonard could punch him in the face. "Admiral, on our way back from the planet, I transmitted all of Captain Kirk's log entries to be analyzed-"
"Yes, Commander you did. The results were rather unsettling. Captain Kirk failed to record any log entries a week previous to his death, and on the day of his visit to Galacia Prime."
"Well maybe he just forgot! Or maybe if it was priority 47, he was under orders not to."
The Admiral was starting to turn a bit red. "Doctor, as I have already said, NO transmissions were sent to the Enterprise, of ANY kind. Even a command code 47. That is a fact. Captain Kirk was in Romulan space, without any prior communication with Starfleet Command- that is also a fact. Captain Kirk, without any instruction, recorded no log entries regarding his actions during that week of travel into Romulan Space. That is a fact. Look at the facts, Doctor, and you will see the truth. Kirk was either acting of his own accord, or of someone else's- NOT Starfleet's."
Leonard felt lightheaded, and collapsed down into his chair. The Admiral continued.
"You said, Doctor, that Captain Kirk was unusually nervous and anxious. That also leads me to believe that he was involved in something, maybe not even under his control. Or he was nervous because he was about to engage in something rather rash. We both know Jim Kirk was an officer who took action on instinct and went with his gut. He leapt before he looked. If Jim was doing something he thought was right, even if it wasn't, Starfleet couldn't have stopped him. Now, if we look at the defining moment of Jim's career, it was the Nero incident. Without jumping to too many conclusions, I think we can suppose that these two events may have some connection."
"You are inferring that Captain Kirk was on a mission of retribution." Spock stated blankly.
"Well, Nero killed Jim's father. He destroyed Vulcan, and attempted to do the same to Earth."
"But goddammit, Nero's dead! Who the hell would he go revenging on? And three fucking years later? That's insane!"
Spock was silent. Admiral Leto sighed.
"Look, Doctor. I don't know what Jim Kirk was doing out there, and I doubt I ever will. Whatever his reason, I don't intend to blacken his name before it goes on the tombstone. I'm not going to mention any of this to the press, and I doubt either of you two will. Besides necessary resources and higher ups, I haven't mentioned any details to the general Command staff. Jim Kirk will get the honorable burial he deserves."
"Then what the hell ARE you going to tell the press?"
"The truth. The probable truth, anyway. That Captain Kirk's death was accidental. Space is a dangerous place. I will not disclose the location- we don't need anybody knowing he was in Romulan territory. The public will know that it wasn't the fault of any one person- including the Captain himself. We won't be hiding anything- there are no Captain's Logs on record. Not that those are generally disclosed to the public anyway."
"So you're just going to sweep this under the rug. He had an accident- poor, reckless Jim, finally got what was coming to him. My God man, aren't you even going to launch an investigation?"
"Investigation of what? You saw the body, and you know Kirk died of a severe impact wound to the head. Your report specifically said that Kirk was found lying under a rocky cliff. A further geological scan of the Mons Caelius cliffs showed unstable bedrock that is constantly under aeolian and hydrolic erosional forces. Jim was out, wandering around at night under a potential rock slide. Like I said, accidents happen."
"He was in Romulan territory! Enemy territory! What if the Romulans killed him?"
"So they threw a rock at him?"
"They might have made it look like an accident! Why the hell would Jim just be wandering around at night, admiring dangerous rock formations during a hurricane?"
Admiral Leto raised an eyebrow, and leaned forward. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me? You were there."
McCoy opened his mouth, but he found his voice was gone. The room suddenly seemed too bright, his chair seemed to be pushing up at him, the air crushing on all sides of him, thick and viscous, hard to breathe in and out, gravity was pulling him to the ground, through the floor, down to oblivion, down to the dark. They're going to lie…they're going to cover it all up, like it didn't happen. Jim's dead, and no one will ever know why…
Jim was too good for this, too pure and bright and gold and good. These people, this Admiral, they were soiling him, tainting him, ruining him. Jim's halo of light had blinked out, and now they were stamping him down into the ground, down to less than he deserved, less than his perfection. His beauty, his…unattainable goodness. It was eroding away, like sand in the wind. And everyone could point and see now, see the man who saved Earth was just like them, like everybody else. He could bleed, he could make a stupid mistake, and he could die. His death wasn't supposed to be meaningless and ordinary. He was supposed to go out when he chose, when he was dying for something. He wasn't supposed to be like the rest of the dirt and scum of the universe. That undiscovered country, those dark, uncharted patches of the galaxy. He was a light, filling in the blank spots with a devil-may-care smile and a promising word. He was a golden idol, and his death was supposed to be as fitting and meaningful as his life.
"Gentlemen, look. I want the both of you to take some time and get your heads on straight. The funeral won't be for a few days, there are details to be worked out. Go home, live a normal life for a couple days. After everything's said and done, the Enterprise will still be in refit and repair for awhile. I'll understand if you want to rethink your assignments during that time. A new captain will have to be appointed. Mr. Spock, your name will of course be at the top of the list if you're still interested, but protocol must be followed."
Leto stood up, pushing aside papers, and wrung his hands together. "Please, take some time. I don't want to see either of you two bumming around campus until the funeral. Go home. See your families. Think of normal, everyday things." He paused, letting his words sink in. He gestured towards the door. "I'll see you at the funeral. Good day, gentlemen."
Leonard vaguely remembered the walk back to Academy Campus, where friends and family were lodged to meet the returning crew. Spock was silent the whole way, a few steps ahead of his own shaky, almost inebriated walk.
They entered Archer Union, the hub of campus activity and Academy Visitors Center. Green, indigenous Franciscan Serpentine rock tiled the lobby, swirls of black and green, with occasional veins of red and flecks of gold and silver. He felt Spock's warm shoulder close to his own as he stared down, fascinated by the beautiful tile. Uplifted from the ocean floor, crashed upon by waves for millions of years, until some mining company cut it out, and somebody else buffed it down and cookie cut it into flat cross sections of the Earth's history. A jewel of the deep ocean. Handpicked, it now gilded the floor of Starfleet Academy, gateway to the universe.
"DADDY!"
His heart leapt to his throat.
A young voice filled with bells and a warm southern breeze chimed in his ears, and almost before he looked up, a small body and a head full of dark brown curls launched into his arms.
"JOANNA! Oh my God, my baby girl, honey sweet darling Jo…" He was suddenly and blissfully back to life as he swung his daughter around, gripping her tightly in his arms, smelling her hair, feeling her young heart beat fast against his own. The only girl he had ever fallen in love with at first sight. His Joanna…my God Georgia and home and happiness was back in his arms, and he was happy, and just for a moment, the world seemed to be spinning in the right direction.
"Baby girl, you happy to see me?" Grinning, he set her down on her feet and crouched low to look up at her. "Darling, you're all grown up, aren't you? How old are you now, baby girl?" His accent had begun to dip low and high and soften all the harsh sounds of Yankee standard.
She smiled, pink lips curling up to her warm, chocolate eyes and matching pink cheeks. "Daddy, you know I'm eleven. I sent you pictures. And you even sent me a birthday card and a present! I know you remember!"
"Course I remembered. How could I forget the prettiest girl in the whole state of Georgia?"
She pursed her lips. "Last time you said I was the prettiest in the whole of the Southern United States."
"Well, I do forget myself. I've seen a lot of people up in space- now I happen to know you're the prettiest in the whole known galaxy. What do you think of that?"
"I think you're full of hot air, that's what I think."
He let out a light, ringing laugh. "Baby Jo, you sure are gettin to be a fine young lady. Your tongue is 'bout as sharp as your mother's."
"Mamma and Tom are goin' on a cruise for a week so she said you could come stay at home with me and Aunt Leanne."
"Lee's back too? Where is she?"
"Right behind you, you good 'ol southern boy."
He looked up, and sure enough his little sister Lee was grinning down at him. She had their father's clear light blue eyes, and the dark brown McCoy hair inherited by both children. It was cut into a wavy bob that hung around her heart shaped face, contrasting with her pale skin and misty blue eyes. Her delicate nose was bridged lightly with freckles.
He gave a whoop and lifted her up in the air by her waist, giving her a spin around before dropping her back to the ground, laughing like a maniac. She pulled him into a crushing hug.
"Big brother, I sure am glad to see you." Her eyes were dancing. "It's been way too long since you been home. Carla Rae and Tom are on their big vacation, so we're stayin at Talam for a few days."
He raised an eyebrow. "Since when does Carla Rae go on vacation?"
She smirked. "Since Tom's got business on Risa. The company wants him to work out some contract with the Risans . He finally convinced her to leave Georgia for a week."
He rolled his eyes, and spoke in a lowered voice. "Maybe with the ice queen gone I can actually get a chance to see my horse again. She didn't sell 'ol General did she?"
"No, no she didn't sell your horse. Jo woulda raised hell if she tried. Besides, mom took General and a couple of your other horses and moved 'em back to Talam."
"Yeah, but I never have seen nothing to stop Carla when she's fixin to…to, uh…" His eyes drifted over Lee's shoulder to his daughter. Joanna was currently in a very enthusiastic, very one-sided conversation with the Vulcan first officer, who looked patient and curiously interested at her banter. Her eyes were shining, and she was gesturing wildly with her arms.
"…Lee, let me introduce you to someone." He took her hand and pulled her over to his daughter and Spock. Joanna turned at his presence.
"DADDY, Commander Spock and I were talkin about workin on the starship with you, and he was sayin how far away you were, and I asked where y'all could possibly be getting off to in three whole years, and he was just explain'n how-"
"Joanna, hold your horses a minute girl. Sorry, Spock, I meant to introduce everybody but I got distracted. Spock, this is my sister Leanne and my daughter Joanna. Lee, this is Commander Spock. He's First Officer of the Enterprise and a good friend 'a mine. And Joanna, you've already met the Commander."
Leanne stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Commander. We've all heard a lot about you down here."
Leonard nearly face palmed, but Spock quietly dipped his head and returned the handshake for a beat before dropping his hand and tucking it back in its usual place at the small of his back. He gave Spock an apologetic look, but the Vulcan didn't seem to notice, or chose to ignore it out of politeness to Leanne.
Joanna was bouncing on her heels. "Commander, why do you have pointy ears, and why is your hair cut all funny like that?"
"JOANNA McCoy, what in the world possessed you to think that was a polite thing to say?"
She turned back to stare up at Leonard. "Daddy, I was just curious!"
"Well if you're curious, you can ask Spock in a nicer way than that."
Spock's eyes were full of amusement, his mouth imperceptibly turned up at the corners. A few months ago, McCoy might never have noticed it. But lately he was starting to pick up on all the subtleties Jim had been so adamant were in Spock's possession.
Joanna turned back to look up at Spock. "Mr. Spock, sir, may I ask why you look different than everybody else?"
Leonard rolled his eyes. A marginal improvement, but at least she took out the part about Spock's 'funny' hair cut.
"Of course, Miss McCoy. Your observations most likely stem from the fact that I am not entirely human. My genetic makeup also includes Vulcan genes. My father was Vulcan, my mother human. My physiology favors my paternal genes. Pointed ears are a physiological trait of all Vulcans, and my hair is cut in a traditional Vulcan manner."
Joanna looked slightly floored. "….oh. So you're not from around here."
Spock's lips twitched again, before he quickly schooled them back to a neutral expression. "No, Miss McCoy. I am not."
"You can call me Joanna, you know. If you're a friend of Daddy's. Only Miss Reilly calls me 'Miss McCoy'. And only when I'm in trouble."
"Very well, Joanna. If you would prefer."
Joanna grinned. "Very much. Are you coming home to Georgia with us?"
"Joanna, " Leonard interrupted, "Why don't you and Aunt Lee go over to the information station and pick out a restaurant that we can eat at tonight."
"Can Spock come?"
"We'll see. Now go on…" Lee took Joanna's hand, and with a grateful look at his sister, he watched the two of them walk over to the kiosk where a friendly cadet helped them in their endeavor. He turned back to Spock.
"The offer stands, you know. We're going to stay at the McCoy family ranch for a few days. My ex-wife and her new husband are on vacation, so Lee and Joanna were staying there this week. If you don't have any other plans, we'd love to have you, Spock."
"No thank you, Doctor. I would not wish to intrude on your family gathering."
"No, Spock, really. I…I want you to come." He rubbed his neck uncomfortably.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I will reconsider. You leave in the morning?"
"Yeah, we're staying here tonight. Probably catch an early shuttle tomorrow morning and get down there by the afternoon."
"I will contact you tomorrow, then. If there is nothing else, I should return to my quarters." He waited a beat, then turned to leave.
"Wait a minute, Spock-"
Spock stopped and turned to face McCoy. "Yes, Doctor."
"Uh…" He realized he meant to ask Spock if he had indeed called him 'Bones' in the Admiral's office. He found now, however, that he couldn't. It seemed…too close. Too close to Jim, for both of them.
"Never mind. But make sure you do comm me tomorrow. I mean it!"
He nodded, and left.
A/N:
FYI: It's explained mostly by context, but here's the definition for Starfleet Security Code 47:
SSC 47 communications are directed to the Commanding Officer of a starship or starbase. They are not to be disclosed to ship or base command staff, and no acknowledgement or log entry of the communication is to be made.
Oh, in the mean time, if you want to read a great story about McCoy in the south, read audi katia's Bleedme Blue.Its fantastic, and a real inspiration to my writing. Also read Light, Flash, Crack. Because its ridiculously good and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. They're both Jim/Mccoy. I'm a K/S shipper myself, but these are wonderful.