It's not Jim's most graceful landing; landing so hard the wind is knocked out of him and he's sprawled out over the top of the railway car, just a little shy of dignified. Jumping from a stationary platform to a moving target will do that to you. All things considered, they didn't miss and fall under the wheels or in a bloody broken heap on the canyon floor. He turns to McCoy, who's in the exact same position, locking eyes for a second before they both start laughing like maniacs. Near death defying stunts deserve a moment of giddiness, and it's the first time he thinks he's seen the doctor genuinely smile.
The moment is short lived, the smile slides off McCoy's face so fast, Kirk almost doubts it was there. It's the fear in the other man's eyes that spurs him to action. The motion of the train that's still clicking along at an impressive pace combined with the smooth surface of the roof, that he barely managed to land on, is causing McCoy to slip off the edge.
Jim scrambles up onto his knees and throws himself towards McCoy. He just brushes Leonard's out stretched hand but it's enough to latch on. He can feel his muscles straining against the weight as his burden dangles precariously against the side of the car. There's nothing to hold onto and if he slips, they both will meet a terrible fate underneath the unforgiving steel of the train's wheels. Without purchase, Jim is sliding forward, lowering McCoy closer to the ground. If he can't save the doctor, he won't have long to dwell on his failure; the tether tying their other hands together will pull him off the train once the line goes tight enough. Both of their lives are in his hands and he can feel McCoy's hand starting to slip.
McCoy holds on for all he's worth, his hand linked to Kirk's in an iron death grip that may not prove enough. His arm's already strained and the jostling from the train is only causing further stress on his taught muscles. His free arm flails uselessly, unable to find anything to grab on to. The air's biting into him as the train speeds on, oblivious to its stowaway's plight. The ground is a blur but the large black wheels turning tirelessly are in sharp focus. He can feel himself inch closer to death, letting out a sharp hiss of pain as his leg brushes the edge of one of the wheels, the friction biting and burning through his pant leg and ripping open his skin.
Kirk grits his teeth harder, his jaw aching as sharply as his arm. McCoy's cry of pain spurs loose a reserve of strength he didn't know he had. Slowly they make progress in the right direction until the doctor is back on solid ground, or rather the top of the car. They lay there, breathing deeply as the adrenaline starts to fade and time begins to slow.
"Let's not do that again," huffs Kirk.
"Took the words right out of my mouth, kid," agrees McCoy, thankful to not be a mangled heap on the tracks. Between each shuddering breath he alternates between being thankful Kirk saved his life and resentful for the fact that it was Kirk. The pendulum of his consciousness wavers between accepting it as an act of a good man, cause Kirk could have kept himself out of danger by cutting the rope and letting him fall, and it simply being a means to an end. They still need him to help Pike and he can't do that if he's dead on the tracks. Mostly, his brush with death in such a wild fashion has left him abundantly grateful and full of adrenaline.
Jim reaches over and unties the rope from around his and Leonard's wrists. The doctor's not going anywhere now and it's only going to lead them into danger through the rest of his plan. "Come on." He rolls to his side and carefully gets his feet under him before helping McCoy to his feet.
McCoy stumbles slightly, pain shooting up his leg from his calf. Twisting around, he gets his first good look at the damage. The wound is angry red, bleeding mildly and hurts just looking at it. He can put weight on it, limp on it but anything more than that seems unlikely.
"Are you alright?" asks Jim, eyeing the ribbon of blood snaking down the doctor's leg. He pulls the edges of his vest to the side and hikes up his shirt to tear a strip of fabric off the bottom of his undershirt and hands it to McCoy.
He takes the offered fabric and wraps it tightly around his calf to stop the bleeding. It's barely sufficient but it will hold for awhile, assuming Kirk doesn't have any other harebrained schemes in the works. "I'll be fine," he assures, wondering if claiming possible death might get him out of Kirk's heist.
"This way." Kirk takes off towards the end of the car, looking proficient in his actions unlike McCoy who wobbles like a newborn lamb, none of which has anything to do with his injury. He wonders just how often this ragtag group of outlaws commit heists on moving targets.
They reach the end of the car, and Jim shimmies down the ladder until he's standing on the narrow platform in front of the door to the inside of the car. He waits patiently for McCoy to do the same, ready with a steady hand in case they have a repeat of earlier. If not for the kidnapping and the pending robbery, they would almost seem like a dynamic duo, getting into mischief as the result of idle hands. The doctor looks expectantly at him, like he's trying to call Jim's bluff. Kirk just flashes his devil may care smile back and pulls out the handkerchiefs he had folded in his back pocket. "So no one can see your face." The last thing they need is for someone to get a good look and finally produce a decent wanted poster that can identify any of them.
McCoy huffs, but snatched the handkerchief and fastens it in the same fashion he watched Kirk. Things are getting more ridiculous by the second and all he can picture is the write up in the local newspaper. Country Doctor shot while partaking in daring train robbery: accomplice gets away. There are logistics to this scenario that the insatiable outlaw couldn't possibly have accounted before and the weight of them hangs heavy around Leonard's head. "How am I supposed to rob a train without a gun?"
He can't see Kirk's mouth anymore, the handkerchief covering everything below his eyes, but he knows the kid is smiling at him, and god does he hate that smile. It shouldn't surprise him when Jim pulls a colt out from behind his back and hands it over to him. The weight of the gun is heavier than he imagined and cumbersome. Part of his brain wants to lecture Kirk again on the dos and don'ts of kidnapping, because really, it's a wonder the kid has made it this far in life. His mother must be completely grey and a constant nervous wreck.
"Just don't shoot me," is the only tutorial he's given before Kirk is throwing open the door to what looks like a storage car. Leonard thinks back to the few lessons his father gave him as a small boy under the guise of you never know when it will save your life and thinks he remembers enough to make the thing actually fire. "I wasn't planning on shooting anyone." He feels like mentioning that he probably couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if he tried but doesn't think the confession would rattle Kirk at all.
The thought does flicker in his head briefly, shooting Kirk. The world would probably be a better place but McCoy would be a worse person. For the reasons he probably should, there's only one why he can't. He's a doctor, even if it kills him. And now it's looking like it will.
"Stay behind me and you'll be fine." Jim assures like he's reassuring the damsel in distress even though he suspects McCoy is probably anything but.
The whole experience is new and McCoy can feel the electricity of something close to excitement crackling in the air. There's a nervous energy buzzing in his ears and the world seems to be in sharper focus. He has a startling thought that this feeling could be both addictive and the reason why people like Jim Kirk do this sort of thing. Kirk is striding boldly through the car but the doctor zeros in on the crates stacked and stored within the car. "These are the supplies I need." He points to one of the crates off to the side.
"That's great, Bones, keep that in mind for when we come back."
"Back? This is what we came for."
"True, but Uhura and Sulu are counting on us to be the distraction so they can jump on the train and force it to stop before the train gets to the portion of the track Scotty has probably blown up."
There are so many things wrong with that sentence, McCoy doesn't even know where to start. He no longer hopes he's going to wake up with the mother of all hangovers in his office but in an asylum for the insane. "Why not?" he mutters to himself, following behind like a lost puppy. Of course he would wake up today to be the distraction for a train robbery, a train that is speeding down a track that might likely be blown to hell; this is definitely a thing people do before breakfast.
Kirk kicks open the door to the passenger car with over-exuberance, draws his gun, and lets off one round into the ceiling. As one, everyone's heads snap to the back of the car with dramatic gasps. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery. We're not here for your personal effects but the shipping crates. If everyone stays seated and nobody tries to be a hero, this will all be over shortly without incident. We're sorry for any inconvenience."
McCoy has to admire the kid's showmanship. He's been on the wrong end of Jim's gun and he still kind of wants to route for the kid. He can understand Kirk's captive audience sitting in their seats in riveted fascination and not giving into blind panic and chaos. There are a few startled gasps and conspiratorial whispers but everyone seems content to remain frozen in their seats; no one willing to play the hero, as Kirk continues his sermon to the front of the car.
He's relieved they aren't being challenged, Kirk's severely outnumbered and he can't fathom wading into a fight with these innocent people, his medical oath and morality only the first two stumbling blocks to harming their captives, and when did he go from prisoner to captor?
He can feel the abrupt change in speed beneath his feet and it sends a tidal wave of nausea through him. The adrenaline from their jump earlier is wearing off, making him all too aware of where he is. It's a good thing everyone is hanging on Kirk's every word, passively waiting for things to be over because the thought of being trapped in this narrow metal tube is causing his panic to spike to the point where he wants to lock himself in the bathroom and throw up. This is worse that riding in a stagecoach; he fears for the future and what new inventions for breakneck speed will 'revolutionize' their lives and reduce him to a puddle on the floor.
The 'I told you so' look forms a grin on the kid's face that reads plainly in his eyes as the breaks squeal, and the train begins its stop. "See, it will all be over soon."
McCoy's not sure if it's karma against him or Kirk or just poor timing on the kid's part but an explosion of gunfire punctuates his last word. He instinctively throws himself against the wall of the train as the bullets smash the glass window in the doors that separate the cars. The passengers scream and duck in their seats and Leonard flinches at the sound, his body suddenly frozen.
"Change of plans," yells Kirk, alternating between shielding himself behind the wall and shooting back against the men in the other car. "If you'll all kindly move back to the next car. Bones, help them across."
Bullets are an excellent motivator. The passengers scramble towards the doctor as he opens the doors. He helps them make the jump between the two cars, tossing the smaller children into the waiting arms of their parents until everyone has managed to get across. He turns back to the front of the passenger car. "Now what?" he yells to be heard over the noise. He should leave Kirk to his fate, except that his fate is now inexplicability tied to the outlaws. Truth being stranger than fiction, if these are the 'good guys' shooting at them now, they'd never believe Leonard's insane tale of how he came to be part of the train robbery.
Kirk's tucked behind the wall reloading his guns before popping back up to take more shots at the next car. His aim's far superior to McCoy's because the guards seem to be pinned down unable to take the passenger car they're holding up in. "Now we take the guards out," he yells over his shoulder.
It sounds so simple out of Kirk's lips, like they have a snowball's chance in hell of being successful against the numerous things that could go wrong. Knowing Kirk, the kid probably hasn't ever been in a situation where the horseshoe conveniently lodged up his ass hasn't been able to see him triumphant. Part of Leonard doesn't want to be there to see the day that doesn't hold true.
Knowing it won't do any good, he pulls out the sidearm Jim had handed him earlier and fires in the general direction of the guards. He doesn't have to worry about hitting anyone but the noise might make them take cover for a moment that Kirk can exploit.
Jim kicks open the door and makes the jump to the next car, guns still ablaze. "You coming, Bones?"
McCoy rolls his eyes. "Yes, let's run towards the bullets!" Reluctantly he follows against his own better judgement. The seriousness of the situation is ramping up as he catches his first glimpse of just how many men they're up against. Overkill was probably beaten by at least ten men. Even considering what Kirk has explained about Nero and what he's doing, the army he's hired to escort these supplies is a ridiculous show of excess and indulgence. He's sure someone can calculate the small odds of their success but he can count bullets and Kirk is going to run out long before they run out of bodies.
The answer to their growing problem comes in the form of Sulu and Uhura bursting through the door on the other side of the car, spreading their own fair share of bullets around. Leonard gives a sigh of relief while Jim seems to grow even bolder in his shots. The fight ends surprising quickly after that, the handful of guards still alive surrender in the face of their assured demise. Uhura and Sulu waste no time tying up the guards and frog marching them off the train while Kirk goes back to the cargo car to off load the passenger.
McCoy slumps down in one of the seats, his mind disturbingly blank as he stares at the dead bodies littered around the car. He doesn't feel bad about the loss of life here. These men aren't innocent by any stretch of the imagination; they hadn't hesitated to shoot at the civilians to get to them. When did this become his life? Last month he was a simple country doctor and now he's waist deep in a conspiratorial plot with a gang of outlaws that seem to have a better understanding of wrong and right than the lawmen charged with protecting the people in these parts.
Sulu clomps back into the car and approaches the doctor hesitantly. He gently places his hand on the man's shoulder to get his attention. "You coming, Doc?" he asks quietly. What happened here is a lot to take in on its own, never mind everything they've put the doctor through already.
He shakes his head to clear it, glancing at Sulu for the first time. "Yeah." He nods numbly, his body smart enough to go through the motions even if his mind hasn't gotten a solid grasp on things yet. He follows Sulu out into a weird controlled chaos. Uhura is the imposable force he remembers from his office, standing guard over the tied guards, her guns glistening in the sunlight. Spock and Scotty have made their way on to the scene at some point and are helping Kirk carry the crates from the train to the wagon by the track. They all move with a practiced ease that really suggests they do this all the time.
"Bones, why don't you check on the passengers and make sure they're alright," suggest Kirk, depositing the crate he's carrying before heading back to get another.
That he can do. McCoy walks towards the group of huddled passengers who tense at his presence. He can't blame them for their skepticism; technically he is with the group that's robbing the train, even if it's against his will. Nobody is bleeding and he's thankful for that small mercy; they're the only truly innocent people here. It's mostly panic and fear afflicting the group and the only cure is time and distance from the gun toting gang. It's the small girl crying hysterically pulls his attention and his conscious.
He kneels down and picks up the raggedy doll she's dropped. "Hey now, what's all the tears about?" Gently he rubs away the tear rolling down her check with his thumb as he hands back her doll. Her trembling hands snatch the doll back and she hugs it to her chest tightly. She doesn't answer, just stares at him with big brown eyes and wobbling lips. She looks so much like his own little girl, he wants to cry. Her mother pulls her closer to her side like she did the doll, eyes also fixated on McCoy.
"It's going to be alright Jo..."the name dies on his tongue. This is not his little girl and he has no right making a promise he knows he can't, couldn't keep. He clears his throat to try again. "This will all be over soon and it will seem like a bad dream."
As if to prove him wrong or maybe just to prove the universe has it personally out for him, one of the passengers pushes his trench coat to the side to reveal a hidden sidearm. The world slows to a crawl as the man pulls it and points it at an unsuspecting Kirk. "Nobody steals from Nero!"
He's the closest one to do anything; yelling won't get Jim out of the way in time. He's moving before he can even think better about it, slamming into the man and sending them to the ground in a messy heap.
The other passengers let out cries of surprise and scatter away from the action as McCoy and the man fight for the gun firmly in his grasp. They roll across the ground, trading blows and McCoy receives a stunning head butt as the man rips the doctor's mask off. There's a sharp bang and the man seems to stop struggling allowing McCoy to roll onto his back and gasp for air. The burning pain in his arm intensifies as time speeds up to its normal pace. The man is standing over him, gun pointed directly at his chest.
It had all been going so well, Kirk thinks when the shot rings out. Everyone freezes at the sound, sending worrisome glances to the other members of the gang as they do a mental headcount. Of all the people he expected to end up in a brawl, the doctor would be the last. He even gave the safest job possible of tending to the passengers, just to keep McCoy out of the way. He doesn't hesitate, not for one second, when he sees the gunman standing over McCoy, finger starting to pull tightly against the trigger. He's relieved that no one else seems to hesitate either as a cluster of bullets from varying directions takes the man down with a vengeance.
"What the hell was that?" demands Kirk as he rushes to Leonard's side.
"Looks like Nero's resorted to undercover agents now," offers Sulu as he kicks over the body of the gunman to examine him. It's not a stretch, they've seen this move before and the man was carrying the same issued guns as the guards.
McCoy is sucking in breath through clenched teeth and all he can focus on is the pain. His head lolls to the side and he gets his first good look at the bloody hole in the fleshier part of his upper arm. His hand latches on tight to try and stop the bleeding but it does nothing to stem the pain. It isn't life threatening in and of itself but the bullet is still in there and needs to come out before the day is done. Between the leg and now the shoulder, he's not looking forward to it.
"Are you okay?" asks Kirk as his hands ghost over the doctor looking for other injuries.
"Mmmm," he growls as Kirk pulls him to a sitting position. "I've been shot," he snaps like it's personally Jim's fault and it kind of is; he did drag Leonard along on this stupid stunt.
"An astute observation," says Spock, giving the doctor another hand to help pull him to his feet, despite the death glare he's getting.
"There's gratitude for you," snarls McCoy though his clenched teeth.
Kirk tips his head in the direction of the cargo car. "Hurry and get those supplies loaded. We need to get out of here now." Spock silently goes back to the task at hand as Jim slowly helps McCoy make his way to the wagon. "How bad is it?" The guilt's back in Jim's voice and his expressive blue eyes look like he's going to break if the doctor tells him it's bad.
Leonard gets himself seated on the back edge of the wagon with the kid's help. He waves off Jim's concern. "It's fine," he tells him even though they both know it's not.
"We'll get you back to camp and get you patched up," Jim assures, concern radiating though the hand that hasn't found its way off the doctor's shoulder.
Leonard lies back; he's suddenly exhausted from everything the day has brought. "A gun slinger practicing medicine without a licence, I can hardly wait."
Kirk pats him on the knee. "Yeah, you're going to be fine." He heads back towards the train and even though McCoy can't see him from his current angle, he knows the annoying smile is back on Jim's face.
