Road to recovery
Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait-I'm really bad at writing these things :( Here's the next chapter!
To Rhirhi: The Enterprise didn't get destroyed in ST:ID! It was USS Vengeance that crashed, although I'm sure USS Enterprise was in dire states as well.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything except for my own ideas.
Chapter 4
Jim Kirk was not a stranger to the constant bleeping of the heart monitor—hell, that has been his constant companion for the last few weeks, and he would be lying if he didn't say that it offered some sort of a comfort throughout the night, because it signified that he was alive and breathing and well.
But it just seemed so wrong… so wrong that the one lying on the bed was Bones and not him. So wrong that the heart monitor was monitoring Bones' heartbeat instead of his. So wrong that it is Jim sitting on the visitor's chair and not McCoy.
What has he put him through? How did he not realise the extent to which he has pushed his friend?
When Jim and Leonard met, it seemed almost destined that a friendship would form-they were both at their wits end, pulled into this crazy Starfleet because they had nowhere else to go. And then at the Academy, as Jim did all his crazy stunts, half fueled by boredom and half by his desire to prove his worth, Leonard was always the one pulling a last minute save, and so it seemed only natural that their friendship blossomed. Later, on the ship, Leonard had continued to support his actions, even if they went against Starfleet's wishes, agreeing to play almost any part he could if Jim asked.
But their friendship...
Jim stared at his unconscious friend on the BioBed.
Are they really still as close as they used to be?
Sure, Jim still saw Leonard every week - as officers aboard a starship, they had weekly meetings to discuss whether all the departments are running fine. But apart from that?
How long has it been since they shared a meal together? How long has it been since they sat down together over a couple of beers? How long has it been since he met Bones over anything other than official visits or waking up after a nasty incident in the Sickbay?
Regretfully, he doesn't know.
"Jim..."
"Bones? I'm right here now, wake up?"
But Leonard did not seem to hear him, his mind in a turmoil, unable to escape from his nightmares.
"Jim, why... why didn't you call for me...?"
"Bones wake up, I'm right here,"
"I wasn't there... it's my fault, mine, mine, mine, I could've...could've done something..."
"Bones wake up, I'm here, everything is fine..."
"He's dead... Jim's dead and I can't... I can't..." his seemingly crazed words descended into ramblings and murmurs that Kirk cannot make out. Jim had never seen McCoy like this before; flustered, he punched the call button quickly for a nurse.
Almost immediately, the doors to the ward slid open. At Jim's indication, Chapel gave one look at Leonard, sighed, and keyed in a code for a drug that seemed to quickly subsided whatever nightmares McCoy had had.
"Christine, why-"
"Captain, I assure you he is alright," said Chapel.
"Nurse Chapel," Kirk's voice became harsher, "I don't think what I witnessed counts as 'fine' "
Chapel gave a sad look at her unconscious superior. "If you saw what I saw, Captain, you won't be too surprised," she said, and Jim was surprised to hear a hint of annoyance at the usually composed Head Nurse. As she left, Kirk's fist landed hard on the handrest of his wheelchair.
How did it become like this?
"Captain Kirk?"
Jim swivelled his wheelchair to meet the newcomer, his annoyance quickly turning into confusion as he realised he did not recognise the person standing before him.
"Commander Kerry, sir. Vice head of Starfleet's Medical Division in San Francisco. Good to see you're awake, sir, we have all been worried."
Something doesn't click, thought Jim instinctively, something doesn't add up.
"Can I help you?"
Kerry gazed at McCoy sadly, "I'm here to see Dr. McCoy, sir. He has been a great help townside, and I am here to see him." With that, he started flipping through some records on his PADD.
Townside…?
"Has something happened in San Francisco?"
Kerry stopped short, suddenly tensed. "Nothing much, sir," a lie, and both of them knew. Kerry shuffled his feet awkwardly, "well, I better make a move now, Captain, need to write up a report. I will come back again when Dr McCoy has regained consciousness." With that, Kerry left a package beside the biobed and left the room.
Immediately, Jim left the Sickbay and headed for the Observation Deck.
When Spock next saw Jim, he was staring out of the window, looking at the repairs being done on the Enterprise, and on the screen showing an update on San Francisco's condition.
Spock knew logically that a human couldn't age ten years within a day, but the Jim he saw was different from the one who had been lying in bed a few days earlier. This Jim has aged dramatically, the haunted look in his eyes reflecting the burden he has been made to carry.
"How many, Spock," Jim asked, and it was then that Spock noticed the red rimmed eyes.
He has to know one day, Doctor.
"Captain."
"How long, Spock?"
How long have you been planning to keep this from me?
"It was better for your condition," said Spock, gentler than usual. An excuse, and a poor diversion tactic.
Kirk didn't fall for it.
"It doesn't change the facts!" Jim's voice was weak, but the resolution rang through, "You know it, you're a Vulcan! So how many, Spock? How many lives?"
Vulcans cannot lie. Spock has never felt more regret about this fact.
"One hundred and thirty-seven crew, Captain, of which forty-eight are permanently incapacitated."
One hundred and thirty seven. One hundred and third seven lives.
Jim's fist trembled. He took a deep breath.
"How many civilians, Spock?"
A moment of silence. Kirk had never seen Spock hesitate before.
"Numbers unconfirmed, but death toll currently stands at five thousand, due to USS Vengeance's crash. Death toll was minimised as many buildings had been evacuated when abnormal activity was detected in space," came Spock's logical voice.
Jim swore.
Five thousand civilians.
137 crew.
What has he done?
"It is not your fault, Captain," came Spock's voice, breaking through the turmoil in Jim's mind, "had Admiral Marcus succeeded, the death toll would have been on the scale of millions, possibly involving an intergalactic war."
Jim knew this was true. Yet it doesn't make the deaths easier.
It never does.
How many families has he broken up? How many futures has he destroyed?
"Good to see you're awake, sir," he remembered Kerry saying. But it wasn't fair, was it, that after all these, he, the one who started Khan's pursue, was still alive, when a poor soul who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time had lost his or her life.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't apt. It was ironic.
At that moment, James T Kirk felt very tired.
"I grieve with thee, Jim," said Spock, softly. He stood beside Jim, his hand on his shoulder, hoping to channel some sort of comfort.
They stood like this for some time, Captain and First Officer; as Spock turned to leave, however, a cold hand grabbed his wrist.
"Give me the names, Commander," came Kirk's voice, "I need to do this personally."
Jim has never liked paper work. Equipment requisition, changes in personnel, weekly reports to the Admiral… he has never liked it.
The one he loathed most, however, was this.
Lieutenant Leslie Corin, he wrote and stopped, his hands trembling.
Leslie. An engineer, a few years younger than him. Kirk had always felt she had a bright future ahead, but now…
A very astute young woman, with great potential, he wrote, before stopping again. He looked at McCoy's unconscious form.
"If only you're awake, Bones, you would have known how to write this."
McCoy didn't answer.
"Spock misses you, you know," continued Jim, "He will never admit it, but he misses the verbal sparring both of you have over breakfast."
Jim can almost hear McCoy's sarcastic retort about how Vulcans don't have feelings and gave a sad chuckle.
But this isn't all you wanted to tell Bones about.
"I saw the recording of the ICU, Bones," he found himself blurting out, "I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry you weren't there. I'm sorry I took you for granted for so long, I'm so sorry…"
"Don't be sorry, you idiot," came a muffled, rough voice.
Jim startled and looked at McCoy, red rimmed eyes meeting brown ones. McCoy gave him a small smile which Jim tried to mirror as he wiped his tears away.
"Thanks for everything, Bones."
-To be continued-
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