It's only taken two stories, a boatload of angst and Jim being a ginormous moron, but guess what? THERE BE HUGS ON THE HORIZON. I know, right? It's all going to be very awkward and we probably won't talk about it after, but there are some pretty extenuating circumstances. And a tribble. Actually, I'm lying. There is no tribble.
McCoy left acting captain Sulu on the bridge and raced after Jim. He'd seen the look shared between Kirk and Spock when Jim had announced that he would be going down to the planet's surface to retrieve Harrison, but unlike Spock, McCoy was not relieved.
"Jim, think about this for a minute!" McCoy hissed, careful to keep his voice pitched low. While it was acceptable for Spock to challenge the captain's decisions on tactical matters, doing so as CMO would simply be an exploitation of their friendship.
Besides, it was clear Jim was in no mood to be challenged, certainly not publicly.
They were headed down to the crew quarters where Jim would no doubt be changing into clothing he could wear on the mission. McCoy seized the chance to herd Jim through the doors and close them behind him, now sealed privately in Jim's rooms.
"What the hell, Bones?" Jim hissed at him, jerking his arm back out of McCoy's grip.
"My damn question exactly." McCoy growled. As much as the doctor in McCoy wanted to comfort his friend, but Jim was not a man who responded well to coddling, and even if he was….he needed a serious kick in the ass. "You're actually going down to the surface."
"You heard me give the orders." Jim snapped, pulling his uniform over his head. "What exactly was unclear, doctor?"
McCoy breathed in deeply. Jim was hurting desperately; Jim was acting the only way he knew how; Jim was….Christ, Jim was going to get them all killed.
"I get it." McCoy said, grabbing Jim's arm again and this time not letting go. Jim would have to physically remove McCoy's hand and he didn't think they were at the point yet where he would resort to violence. "You don't have to lie to me. I know you better than that. I know how your head works. You're upset and you're angry and pushing people away has always been the safest thing for you." McCoy softened his grip, glad to see that Jim was at least listening to him. "You've done it to me before, remember?"
Jim looked away, eyes downcast. McCoy knew Jim had never wanted him to know about all the dark things in his past, and when they'd been brought to light entirely without his consent, he'd made a preemptive attack to defend himself from what he assumed would be McCoy's contempt, and only managed to make them both miserable for a week and a half – right up until Pike had been a meddling bastard and literally locked them in a room together. "That was-"
"Different." McCoy cut him off. "You're damn right it was. That was fixed by a few bottles of tequila and you pulling your head out of your ass. This…Jim, you're not a kid any more." There was no gentle way of saying what needed to be said and McCoy was never one to tiptoe around anyone's feelings, even Jim's. "This isn't just your life you're throwing over a cliff. There are four hundred people on this tin can, and millions more who are going to be at risk if you don't take a step back and look at the bigger picture."
Jim's voice was a cold as the look in his eyes. "And what is that?"
"You made the right choice by not just blowing Harrison to hell. But I don't think going down there is the right move either." And he wasn't just saying that because Jim would most likely get the shit kicked out of him by Klingons.
"Then what should I do?" Jim hissed, some of the anger leaving his gaze to show glimpses of the hurt and uncertainty he desperately struggled to keep a lid on. "Let him go?"
McCoy swallowed. "Maybe."
Jim snatched his arm out of McCoy's grasp and continued to change. "He killed Pike." He snapped, almost tearing the sleeve of his leather jacket with the force with which he pulled it on.
"He killed a lot of people." McCoy said sadly. "You're not the only one who's grieving right now."
That made Jim pause and for a moment McCoy hoped he might have gotten through Jim's thick skull.
It passed.
Jim stood, his back straight and his face utterly blank. "Are we done?"
"Yeah." McCoy sighed. "We're done."
John Harrison was…well, not like anything McCoy expected. He wasn't even sure what he expected from a man who had caused as much pain as Harrison, but the calm, rational, reasonable man Jim had locked in the brig wasn't it.
From a casual glance, Harrison looked utterly normal. His eyes however, were devoid of anything close to humanity. He wore a cold, blank, dead-eyed look. A look McCoy had been seeing on Jim far too often recently.
Speaking of Jim…
"You better have seen M'Benga about that hand of yours." McCoy said over the comm as he was shuttled down to a small berg of a planet not far from where they were stranded. For some reason they were humoring Harrison's not so subtle suggestions to poke around in an active missile. And Jim of all people was condoning it.
And of course they were stranded in enemy space with a terrorist on board and a captain who wasn't even holding a pair, let alone a full deck of cards.
"Bones…" Jim's sigh echoed through the line but it made him smile nonetheless. At least he was back to being Bones again.
"I mean it." McCoy lectured, falling back into their usual routine. "And don't think I don't know about those ribs of yours."
Doctor Carol Marcus raised a delicate eyebrow as McCoy continued to berate the captain. McCoy shrugged helplessly. Was it his fault Jim was a damn idiot?
It felt a little strange to be sitting alone with Admiral Marcus' daughter after everything McCoy had learned about him. Still, he trusted his gut when it came to people: Harrison: bad news; Carol Marcus: not as crazy as her old man.
And Jim seemed to trust her. That meant more than people might have expected. For all that Jim was a sucker for a pretty face – and Doctor Marcus was very pretty – actual trust was something else entirely.
"Can you maybe focus on the task at hand instead of bugging me about a few bumps and bruises?"
"Fractured metacarpals are not 'bumps', Jim. Trust me, I know. Your First Officer has one seriously solid face."
"You hit Mr Spock?" Doctor Marcus asked in amazement, at the same time as Jim, who said;
"Seriously Bones? Do we have to have this conversation again? Thou shall not hit thy senior officer." Which was wildly unfair. He'd only done that once…okay, twice if you counted Spock. Pike had covered for him both times. Some people just deserved a good punch to the face. Who was McCoy to deny them?
He shrugged helplessly and grinned. "So," He said, changing the subject as they landed on the planetoid. "Torpedoes, huh? What exactly am I supposed to be helping with here, I'm a surgeon."
Doctor Marcus smiled enigmatically.
Which was how he ended up with his arm trapped inside a live nuclear weapon with a countdown rapidly spinning towards death by explosion. The things he did for Jim Kirk and a pretty face. How was this even his life?
Doctor Marcus sounded calm and composed as she struggled to remove the device's outer casing but McCoy was well trained and could read the lines of stress around her eyes.
"Jim, beam her back!" He tugged as hard as he could but nothing budged. He thought he might have a compression fracture in the bone and the metal case wouldn't give at all.
"Doctor Marcus, can you disarm the device?" Spock asked.
"I'm trying!" Doctor Marcus said. "Give me one second…"
"Nineteen seconds until detonation."Sulu said. McCoy needed to talk to Jim about the things he let his crew say because that was not in the least bit reassuring.
"Nearly there…" Doctor Marcus said, utterly focused on the task at hand.
"Jim, get her out of here!" No point them both dying.
"If you beam me back, he dies!" Doctor Marcus snapped, the clock ticking ever closer to their deaths. "Shit!"
McCoy didn't see what she had done. All he knew was that his arm was suddenly able to slide free from the casing and he was falling back against the hard ground, shaking with adrenaline, Jim's voice ringing in his ear.
This was exactly why he hated space.
McCoy, Doctor Marcus and M'Benga were able to get the torpedo, complete with frozen man – because that was normal – in to medical before Jim and Spock arrived from the bridge.
"A word?" Jim said, grabbing McCoy's arm without waiting for an answer and dragging him into his office.
The door slid closed and a second later, McCoy had the breath knocked from his lungs.
He also had an arm full of Jim, which was the very last thing he expected.
His own adrenaline drop had left him tired and achy, but Jim was full out shaking against him, his arms fastened around McCoy's back tight enough that it actually hurt.
"Whoa, Jim…what's wrong?" McCoy though he was allowed to freak out. For all that Jim was free with his affections and constantly touching people somehow, he very, very rarely initiated the type of contact he'd suddenly hurled at McCoy. Hugging just wasn't their thing.
That didn't stop McCoy wrapping his arms around Jim's back. Whatever had Jim desperate enough to seek out that kind of comfort was clearly grounds for McCoy to give the kid a damn hug.
"I'm sorry." Jim whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry. I know I'm an asshole. I'm trying not to be."
"Okay," McCoy said hesitantly. "You being an asshole is nothing new, kid. Sort of a daily occurrence, actually."
"You nearly died." Jim choked. "I almost lost you and I can't."
"Ah shit." McCoy muttered, suddenly hugging Jim back twice as hard. "I'm fine, kid. Not a scratch on me." A few bruises, maybe, and that arm was most certainly going to be giving him hell in a few hours…but nothing worth worrying Jim about.
Jim shuddered then pulled himself away and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I can't do this without you, you get that, right?"
"You don't have to, moron." McCoy said affectionately. Jim nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment. McCoy took pity on him. "So, shall we go take a look at the human popsicle out there?"
Jim nodded, his composure already regained. "Lay on, McDuff."
"Idiot." McCoy grumbled, his steps feeling lighter as he and Jim left his office.
If nearly getting himself blown up was all it took to knock some sense into Jim...
… no, no way was he doing that again. Not even for Jim Kirk.
Who was he kidding?
He'd do it again in a heartbeat.