Warning for: violence, off-screen implied torture, discussion of skinning and minor character death

Chapter title taken from Ecclesiastes 3:3: "A time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build-up."

Alternatively, it is a verse from "Turn Turn Turn" by the Byrds.

!

!


!

The first lesson any cadet learned at the academy was to recognize the fragility of life. How that lesson was taught tended to vary according to faculty. Len had heard a few hair-raising tales about command track's hazing rituals that ranged from the bizarre to the downright bloodthirsty, but no one expected any better of the fools bold or desperate enough to one day captain a ship of their own.

Operations and engineering preferred to subject their applicants to the myriad torture devices the academy had to offer; when a cadet pleaded for the trial to end, their lesson was considered learned and they came away with a greater respect for the technology they would one day work so closely with.

Many assumed that the science and medical division must have the easiest ritual; very few of their cadets ever ended up on a cold slab the following day. Leonard couldn't answer for the strictly science cadets, he hadn't treated many himself, but every medical cadet was forced to report to sickbay the day following their arrival for a tour of every wing of the facility. They were exposed to the aftermath of the depravities other faculties had perpetrated during their rituals and any that didn't have the stomach for the gruesome sights were packed off on the next available transport.

At least Leonard hoped that was the case. Either way they were usually escorted out immediately after the macabre show and never reported to finalize their living arrangements.

Having survived all that with little more than a few shocked blinks and a few muttered profanities, Len had assumed he could handle any amount of suffering without turning a hair. Seeing the remains of Ramsay's work very nearly changed his mind.

"Vivisected." He choked out, gesturing to the Y-incision vaguely, "Man bled like a stuck pig. Sloppy work." His mouth could hardly shape the word, jaws cracking when his stomach tried to force up his last solid meal. Christine didn't react, but her eyes seemed pinned open and he caught the subtle shift of her weight as she compensated for what was probably a wave of nausea.

"If he finds us, we're as dead as this one. Sure you don't want out?"

"I want him dead." In an uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture, Christine swept the tarp from the edge of the table, ignoring old stains whose provenance Leonard could guess in favor of throwing it over the corpse.

"Far be it from me to disregard a lady's wishes." It was easier to joke so grimly now that he didn't have to stare into those accusing eyes. The husk on the table had doubtless been an ugly piece of work in life, but the monster that had sliced him up was doubly so and Leonard hoped the poor bastard had found some peace in his final moments. It was easier to pretend when he didn't see the agonized grimace on the corpse's face.

"We'll only have one shot at this and only a few hours now to carry it out. I want to make something very clear." Leonard turned to fix Chapel with a warning glare, bringing himself to his full height. He needed every inch with Christine in those heels, and she didn't look ready to back down just because he growled a little.

"I need your help subduin' him. Anything after that you leave to me."

"I stay." Christine growled, voice growing rougher with emotion, "I need to know he's dead."

"Then stay and lend me a hand. Just don't argue."

She didn't like that, he could see it written plainly on her face, but she did want Ramsay dead before Ostara was out and she knew it wouldn't happen without assistance. She was probably regretting leaving the Russian behind about now.

In the end Christine only nodded, declining to comment. Perhaps that would make it easier for her to break her word if she felt the need, or perhaps she was only tired of hearing the ruin of her voice. Nevertheless it was chilling to see her so calm when he could feel the pulse racing hectically just beneath his skin. This place brought back memories he had tried and failed to forget.

Leonard turned back to the table, tucking the covering in. "We need to move this first."

Not a word was spoken as they shifted the body from the table and maneuvered their way to the back room, slipping it onto a shelf beneath another unfortunate recipient of Ramsay's attentions. How the hell had he been getting away with cold-blooded murder so long? Were these all cadets? Leonard was only slightly ashamed of the questions that nagged the edge of his consciousness, Yes, but what was he looking for? Did he find it? Where are his notes?

Leonard bit his tongue until the thoughts were submerged beneath the sting, ignoring Christine's questioning glance. "We'll put him out of our misery quickly and do what we can to make it more theatrical later."

"That's it?" Christine hissed, betrayal painted across her features. "You see this. You see what he has done to all of us and you're just going to put him out with a party trick?"

"Doesn't matter how he dies so long as he stays dead."

"I wonder if that kid agrees." Christine tossed her head to the corpse resting at eye level.

"Don't see how he can. He's dead." The smile on Leonard's lips was genuine, and that disgusted him more than anything else.

Christine pursed her lips in disapproval, but spoke not a word when Leonard motioned her to precede him out of Ramsay's cabinet of horrors.

"How much longer until he returns?"

Chapel shrugged, taking up a position beside the door and leaning back against the wall in an insolent pose.

"Your best guess'd be fine."

"Ostara. Schedules are fucked."

In other words, Ramsay was probably choosing his next victims, which answered one question at least.

!

!

By the time the second hour had come and gone it was obvious Chapel was eyeing the gurneys to see which would suit best for a catnap. Once again Leonard was left wondering at her constitution; his skin still crawled if he thought too closely on the graveyard he was standing in. Christine pushed away from her chair, conveniently situated in a blind spot not far from the door; she disregarded Leonard's warning hiss in favor of heading for the nearest refrigeration unit.

Perhaps it was true what they said about watched pots never boiling. He gained his feet and made his way over to join her, glancing reflexively over his shoulder every few seconds.

"More plasma, saline solution, atropine."

"I c'n see that. Better question is, what the hell is he doin' with all of it? Human body has been mapped 'n remapped, so what's he up to?"

Chapel's fingertips drummed a rapid tattoo against the floor, nails clicking ominously; Leonard noticed for the first time that she had painted her nails an ostentatious red in direct violation of the academy's policy against personal adornment. Typical. Senior staff had long since given up attempting to censure her for minor infractions. Christine was more likely to report for discipline and return the next day wearing an equally outrageous shade.

"I don't see any anesthetics." Glass clinked as she pushed several containers aside, sorting through other labels, compounds McCoy no longer cared to guess at.

"Why waste them on lab rats?"

"It looks like he might have deliberately extended consciousness several times. Why?""

"Because he's a sick fuck that gets off on it. Seems like the most reasonable explanation to me." Leonard turned back to the door, ignoring the shuffling sounds behind him. He was more affected by the line of questioning than he cared to confess. Since David McCoy's death, vivisection had featured prominently in his nightmares; knowing another med-cadets had been practicing it under his very nose, and doubtless wishing the same for him was… unsettling.

"You're allowing personal preferences to cloud your judgment." Christine rasped, "I think he's trying for a more accurate picture of their pain response."

"Nociception." For the first time in years Leonard could feel his gorge rising at the mere thought of what these pitiful remains had been subjected to. The dissection was no longer torture in and of itself, only a means to an end. It was enough to chill the blood in his veins.

Christine's muffled laughter grated on already frayed nerves, but Leonard kept his teeth gritted and voice down when he could finally speak without gagging, "Show some fucking respect. Any one of these could've been us on a bad day."

"Could still be."

For ten long minutes those were the only words spoken. The silence grew heavy again, punctuated only by their soft breaths and the background hum of the refrigeration unit; just as Chapel looked ready to throw in the proverbial towel and leave him to deal with the mess single-handed, Leonard caught the faint echo of uneven footsteps in the hall.

That was a tread he knew well. He didn't even need to mutter a word of warning to Chapel, she was already at his side, gaze locked on the door like her life depending upon keeping it in her sights. Not too far from the truth.

"Jump him?" Christine murmured.

"Wouldn't work, wide-angle view for him, limited space for us. Just wait. He's an arrogant prick, he'll lead himself to the slaughter."

Despite the bold words, Leonard hardly managed to keep from jumping back reflexively when the door hissed open. Christine leapt backward by nearly a foot, startling a laugh from the beast in the doorway.

"McCoy, Chapel. I was combing the campus for you. Have you been waiting long?" The unnatural cheer raised the hairs on Leonard's neck; Ramsay had never been a chatty one, if he was talking now it was because he thought there was something to be gained by it. Any plans for subtlety vanished in that moment, and Leonard found himself checking for the reassuring weight of his scalpel rather than the hypo-spray he had intended.

"Christine says you took exception to one of my requisition orders for plasma. Why's that, Ramsay? Looks like you've got most of the supplies that were supposed to be in my cabinets anyway. Greedy of you." He tried to match Ramsay's casual tone, the teasing edge to his banter, but it didn't come naturally and he could see Chapel's wince from the corner of his eye.

"I've been diverting, here and there." Ramsay wasn't nervous in the slightest.

"Christine, he's got someone coming." Much as Leonard would have liked to grill him for the whys and wherefores of this horror show, only a man confident of the upper hand would be willing to play this game. Either that or it was the best damn bluff Len had ever seen; regardless, his object now was evening the odds. Then he could find someone capable of unlocking Ramsay's notes for him, maybe Christine's favorite psycho- the kid would owe him one for that patch job, and likely all too eager to ensure he wouldn't have a greater debt to pay later.

Leonard barely avoided Ramsay's desperate grab for his throat, jumping back fast enough that he crashed into an empty biobed. Ignoring the dull throb in his hip, Len scrambled around the bed to place it between them; the scalpel was the first to come to his willing hands, as it always had been; he gave thanks that old habits had at last been to his benefit.

Ramsay strode forward, uncharacteristically graceful now that he thought he had his prey on the run. There was no sign of the vague limp that had supposedly haunted him since his first month at the academy. Too wary to put on much of a show perhaps, or too distracted to notice whatever pain kept him from putting his full weight on that leg. Was it a weakness or not- something he could attack or only a blind meant to divert from a more tempting target?

Better to err on the side of caution, find something in their environment he could twist to his own , Len pushed at the bed, containing a grim smile when Ramsay unconsciously halted its progress with his own hands.

Christine was frozen mid-stride, eyeing the wicked blade in his hand with a mixture of surprise and calculation. Ramsay appeared more entertained than frightened. This was what his years of passiveness had wrought, and it would all come to his benefit now. Ramsay would never think him capable of using such an aggressive strategy as he had in mind.

"I'm guessing you keep one of these around yourself." Leonard turned the blade to catch the light, watching the pattern scatter along Ramsay's features.

"I bet you've already discovered it's better for more'n just cutting into dead flesh."A commiserating smile, suggestive tilt of his head. His gut was twisting into knots, and Leonard was surprised to find that it was a product of anticipation rather than fear. Even his disgust had been submerged beneath the need to just see this bloody work done. No more wary prowling through the infirmary, no more waiting on his nurses wondering if they were going to make it back in one piece or keeping a weather eye on his patients lest Ramsay decide they were suitable subjects for his macabre work.

No more.

"This wasn't all done with a laser, was it?" A hit. Ramsay's eyes flicked for the barest second toward the drawer on the far side of the room. Of course, it would never occur to him to use the outdated instrument as a weapon; he probably only kept one on hand for those times he couldn't afford to report the extent of his work.

"It's two to one, Ramsay, and I don't hear anyone coming to your defense." Leonard shoved into the biobed with all the strength he could muster, calling out a sharp warning to Christine.

Ramsay buckled, glancing back to Christine's position with a fear rapidly approaching panic made plain for all to see. Christine only smiled from her position across the room, and it was not a comforting expression. She knew her role, and at this moment that included staying out of the way. The scalpel caught Ramsay in the jugular before he could turn back; Leonard gritted his teeth at the bright spray of arterial blood, swallowing back a gag. This would all have been so much cleaner if Ramsay hadn't tried to play it clever.

He stumbled away from the bed as Ramsay went down, hands clasping the gaping wound at his neck. Neither he nor Christine moved until Ramsay twitched only spasmodically, no longer trying to stem the flow of blood. Mercifully quick given all this man had done.

"Lock the door."

"Done." Christine snapped, vexed that he should think her so unprepared.

"Then help me with this. Get him up on the table. We're not finished yet." Leonard caught her sideways glance, the mutely assessing gaze that questioned how he could be so calm with his enemy's blood leaving a setting stain on his scrubs. It was only a matter of concentration; he needed to focus now on the immediate task. The regrets would come much later if he could afford it.

"What are we doing?" Ever-dependable, Chapel didn't so much as bat an eyelash when Leonard began to strip the uniform from Ramsay's shoulders, helping instead to peel it back from his skin.

"Funny thing, Christine." Leonard chuckled, but there was nothing remotely amused in the dry, heaving sound. "This is the second time I've killed a man with my scalpel. Not much different from the first either. Thought for sure I was never gonna do it again. Promised myself I wouldn't."

"We'd be dead-"

"Not arguin'. But I'm goin' to make good and certain this is the last time. I want everyone to look at this corpse and know exactly who killed this son of a bitch."

"Skin him?" Her tone was clinically detached, hands still steady at their work.

"Skin him, gut him. String him up like game in the quad. I'm betting it'll buy us enough time to finish out our time here; Ramsay isn't alive to mind, and that's more'n I can say for his subjects."

Christine only nodded, "Better gut him first. Make the rest easier."

Leonard shook his head, and the look that stole over his face had Christine pausing in her work, "Not a problem. I've done this before."

!

!


!

Jim was not a patient man. He only had so much time to live. What was the point of delaying gratification? Which is why he found himself prowling the halls of the clinic when McCoy didn't report to his office in the fifteen minutes following the time when his shift was supposed to end.

It hadn't taken much to get his hands on the details of Bones' schedule- just a few words with the head nurse. She had pointed him right to McCoy's designated workspace without so much as a question for what he wanted with the doctor. Either command-track cadets frequently requested directions to Bones' office or the academy needed to start looking for a more taciturn nurse. One of these days, some enterprising cadet might just decide to cut that tongue out for wagging too loosely.

There was also the very real possibility that he was being set up for an ambush. That was the point of Ostara so far as Jim had observed, to dispatch as many enemies as one could during the largest sanctioned war game in the galaxy. Jim had quickly discarded the idea when he found his way into the cramped back room McCoy shared with two other cadets. Only one was in the office, and he had vacated as soon as Jim strode through the doors. Another boon of the medical faculty. They kept to a strict policy of non-interference unless someone overtly threatened one of their own.

Bones was obviously one of the smart ones: his files were nowhere to be found on the academy-issued PADD lying on his desk. It took Jim an additional ten minutes to locate his actual roster, backed up on a PADD at least three years out of date. From there it had taken only a minute longer to track down the name of his last patient: Pavel Andreievitch Chekov, Room 17-A. McCoy had never signed himself out of that session, though he must have returned to his office afterward to slip the PADD back into its rightful place.

The only possible conclusion was that something had upset him enough to wipe any other thoughts from his mind. It looked like Pavel Chekov might be the only one that could know what precisely that had been; worse for him if he'd actually had a hand in it. Jim had liked what little he'd seen of McCoy in action; it was rare to find anyone so defiantly straightforward. Most gave it up after a few sessions in an agony booth.

When he tried to locate the Russian brat the room turned up empty. The sheets were disarranged but cold, and a day's ration of painkillers had been neatly slipped from the distributor. Not a bad idea. Jim filed the idea away for later; there were bound to be people on campus willing to pay a respectable sum for their own private cache.

Jim sauntered back to the corridor, glancing both ways before choosing left on a whim. Sinister in Latin, an apt description of his purpose if ever there was one. He lost himself in the maze of corridors, mapping every hidden corner in case of need, checking the security protocols on every empty room or locked supply cabinet he stumbled across. As he neared the entrance to the East wing, nearly ready to resign himself to scrubbing the rest of campus in his heretofore fruitless search for the errant doctor, the unmistakable sound of that gruff, Southern lilt reached his ears, combining profanities in the sort of verbal gymnastics Jim would not have thought possible if he had not heard it himself.

"God Damn. Just keep it steady, Chris. We're almost out."

"I'm trying." A new voice rasped, frustration plain in every bitten-off syllable. "This is my second day on duty, McCoy. Ditch the stiff in the hall for all I care."

Now that did sound interesting. Jim rounded the corner as quickly as his feet would carry him, coming face-to-face with the doctor himself, and a lovely blonde assistant Jim was determined to make the acquaintance of. He liked the look of those cold blue eyes so much like his own, or maybe it was the agonizer she had already leveled at him by the time he noticed she was armed.

"Not you again." Bones growled, gesturing to Christine to lower her guard. She didn't, and Jim's estimation of her rose a notch.

"Bones, you wound me-"

"Good thing you're in the clinic. I advise you to patch it up yourself and get the hell out of my way before Christine takes exception to you." Jim stepped aside gracefully, watching with interest as Bones collected a side of the suspiciously man-sized bundle and waited patiently for Christine to do the same.

"Who's the corpse? Anyone I know?"

"Only an acquaintance, lucky for you." Bones grunted, face contorting into a grimace of disgust tempered with loathing.

Curious. Jim fell into step beside Bones as he ran over the short list of names he was familiar with, discarding those in his regular classes on the basis of passing familiarity. At least enough to merit being more than acquaintances.

"If you search your brain long enough you might remember Ramsay. This is what's left of him." Bones nodded once to the bundle, expression free of any of the pride or satisfaction Jim would have expected from a job well done.

Jim reached down to twine his fingers in the makeshift body bag. "Thought you weren't a murderer?"

"I lied." Bones growled, face crumpling into a snarl as he enunciated the words. A sore spot for him, obviously. Jim let it lie unchallenged- no use antagonizing the man when he intended to enlist his aid.

"Where are we headed?"

"We? Christine and I are headed for the quad. I don't know where the hell you're going."

"Wherever you lead." Jim smiled jovially, ignoring the open anger on the nurse's face and delighting in the consternation writ large across Bones'.

McCoy waited a beat before responding, evidently caught between challenging Jim's reasons for accompanying him and his preference for airing grievances in private. Jim had counted on that, and he wasn't wrong. Bones nodded, "Alright. Quad."

Their work progressed faster with Jim's help Leonard had to admit, though only in the privacy of his thoughts. He'd never give Jim the satisfaction of knowing the extra hands were appreciated, especially since there was still no sign of any of Ramsay's cronies coming for them. That left two options so far as he could see: either they were waiting in the wings to ambush him now that Ramsay was out of the way or they had long since abandoned Ramsay to his fate and intended to profit from his death.

Leonard only gave it damn if it was the first, and with Jim there, presumably as murderous as ever, he could focus more on deciding how they were going to arrange the corpse for maximum effect.

Hanging it from the arches by the remains of the skin would certainly be the most striking, but also the most intensive. They could always dump it in the middle of the Quad with no ceremony, but then it would be all cleared away before most of the cadets had a chance to see this mess. Leonard wanted the message to spread like wildfire; he wanted these crazy bastards to see precisely what he was capable of and reconsider ever forcing his hand again.

His stomach churned at the thought, not because it involved yet more murder and mayhem- the very things he was most profoundly set against- but because it hadn't been so unsettling this time. Not the murder itself, so similar to his first kill, and not the method he had chosen to deal with the cleanup. Of course, this man hadn't been screaming himself hoarse, neither bucking and shying from the blade- Leonard stumbled, caught himself quickly before Christine could see his malaise- but he had expected memory to interfere far more with the task.

That it hadn't disturbed him far more. The idea that he was beginning to accept the monstrosities his colleagues dealt with every day terrified him down to his very marrow.

The Leonard McCoy that had first set foot in this hell would rather have died choking on his own blood than become one of these creatures. The man he was now valued life far more, his own included. A man couldn't do any good at all once he was dead. These smaller sins were surely forgivable when viewed in that light.

Dear God, he was rationalizing. Leonard swallowed down his bile and kept walking. If he were not a decent man this wouldn't plague him, ergo there had to be some shred of his old self tucked down somewhere-

"They're watching." Christine growled, nodding to those few cadets that had gathered in groups around the quad, probably thinking that it was safer to be in public than caught alone today. Leonard could have told them their odds were roughly the same either way. On most days, doing any permanent harm to a cadet could carry a punishment of anything from time in the agony booth to execution if it were heinous enough. It was a crime to damage imperial property most days, and so resentment simmered beneath the surface and old wounds began to fester.

Some cadets managed to organize 'training accidents'.Most waited for the temporary grace period of Ostara, when grievances could be aired without fear of punishment. It wasn't often practiced outside of Starfleet, most of the civilian population found more creative and less deadly means of venting their frustrations but put a few combat-trained fools together, offer them a free ride and blood was bound to flow.

Another thing to look forward to in his duty aboard the Enterprise; holidays such as this would not be celebrated, and cold-blooded murder would require permission from a high-ranking officer. With Philip Boyce in Pike's pocket, that wasn't quite so reassuring as it might otherwise have been, but it was better than this.

"What now, Bones? This is your show." Jim sounded downright eager. He was a damn moron looking for trouble.

"Dump it here." Leonard suited actions to words, dropping his half of the gruesome package, Christine did not hesitate to do the same and Jim released his grip easily enough.

Leonard could read the disappointment on his face plainly, "We don't get to see?"

"I was considering stringing it up by its guts, but I like this better. Leave it here. Let one of those vultures open it; more of a shock that way. It's trash, and we'll leave it here like trash."

Christine grated a harsh laugh, waving with open mockery to one of the small gatherings. "I like it, Len."

"Glad you approve." For his part, Leonard couldn't wait to put as much distance between himself and this tangible evidence of his savagery as possible.

He stared in open shock when Christine turned and began to head back to the clinic, "Chapel! Where the hell're you goin'?" Had she lost her mind?

Her smile was sharp when she turned back to face him, "Heading back for Pavel. We'll manage together."

"The Russian kid is gone, if that's your Pavel." Jim drawled, smirking back at her.

"I know where to find him." And she was off again, completely ignoring any attempts to recapture her attention. Leaving Leonard alone with the burgeoning psychopath; it wasn't exactly the company he had been expecting. The last thing he needed was Jim Kirk inviting another fight-

"I was thinking you and I could stick together today."

"Then you were thinking precisely the opposite of what I was. Leave me the hell alone." Leonard strode away from the bundle on the pavement, remarking the cadets that were already edging closer, just waiting for him to leave the area.

"Alright, see, this is where I inform you that we can either work together or I can follow you around telling everyone you're here."

"Suit yourself. You'll find there aren't many that'll do me harm."

"Marla McGivers for one. I could take her on today if you keep me close."

"I'm confused as to what the hell you're getting out of this, Kirk. You don't strike me as the charitable type."

"You called me on it last time we talked. I'm new, and most new cadets find themselves a patron. Be mine." Jim shrugged nonchalantly, as though it were all as simple as that.

"Trust me, Pike brought you here and he wants you to stay. That's all the patronage you need."

"Might work for a while, but he can't keep his eye on me forever."

"That's to your benefit, makes it easier to murder anyone that so much as looks at you funny. I'n't that what you're here for, Jim?"

"I wouldn't mind it." Bones snorted, covering bitter amusement. "But you would, and yet you're still standing. How did you manage that? Answer me and I'll leave."

Bullshit. Leonard knew the kid would cling to him like a limpet whether he answered or not, but it rankled at times, seeing the same question on the faces of the higher-ups. How the hell has Leonard McCoy survived this long? It was a fundamental mistake the Imperial authorities made, equating compassion with weakness. If he could teach even one cadet that it was better not to test the boundaries of a man's good will then he had an obligation to do so.

And there was still that damnable pride, prodding him into saying something he knew he'd come to regret later. He might well be sowing the seeds of his own destruction if he gave into Kirk now, but it would definitely mean trouble later if he didn't.

"For one thing, I don't ask stupid questions. And for another, no one here knows what I'll do if they push me. Anticipation is usually worse than anything I could come up with. Don't they teach that in basic interrogation any more?"

"That's not all. You couldn't coast through on a stunt you pulled years ago." Jim lengthened his strides to keep up, head tilted as though he were genuinely interested in an explanation. Despite himself, Leonard warmed to his topic. Anything to divert him from the question that still nagged him incessantly. Where are Ramsay's Notes?

"I did until now. My reputation is all about perception. It doesn't matter what I'm capable of, what I've done or why. All that matters is what others think I've done."

Jim stopped, and almost without thought, Leonard did too, both of them looking back at the growing crowd gathering around the remains.

"Did you do that?" Jim lifted a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips when one cadet stumbled back, shaking their head briskly to clear it of the gruesome image. His reaction was subtly noted by his colleagues, and they shifted away from him carefully. It wouldn't do to be associated with a coward.

"Flay him? It's my specialty. That's another part of it; people have short memories, sooner or later you have to remind them. But if you play your cards right, it won't be too often."

"No such thing." Jim snorted, "If you let anyone get away with pushing you, everyone will. That's why you're in shit with Marlene, that's why you had to kill Ramsay."

"I left it too long. You go off too often . Sooner or later you're going to fuck with someone whose daddy is meaner than yours. Pike wants you for your potential, not what you are now. You're nothing special, Jim."

Leonard didn't miss the snarl that half-formed on Jim's face, neither was he blind to the anger brightening those blue eyes. Evidently Jim Kirk had gone his whole life thinking he was king of the beasts. It wouldn't sit well with him to be proved wrong, but for the first time Leonard was beginning to see why Pike might want to take a chance on him. He wasn't expecting the vicious kick to the back of his knee, but reflex kicked in, allowing him to twist and avoid landing on his wrists. The last thing he wanted to contend with was a fracture.

Damned if he was going back into the infirmary today.

"There's your first mistake. Study your history and you'll find every great leader that executed his honest advisers wasn't long for the world. The Empress herself gives her ministers the right to open dissent, if no one else."

Jim stood above him, blocking the afternoon sunlight with his height, worrying at his lip while he contemplated McCoy's relaxed posture.

"Your second mistake was acting before deciding what to do with me, and your third is listening to me talk while I do this." A wrench of his ankle and Jim stumbled just enough to allow Leonard the chance to grab for his hand and pull him down into a crouch. "Now, we both look like idiots lying here in the middle of campus, so what do you say we get up and try talking like civilized men again?"

For a minute he wasn't sure Jim was going to take him up the offer or if he should be bracing for another fight. Then Jim was nodding slowly, jaw still working with barely-restrained emotion, but acting reasonably at least.

Leonard made sure to take hold of both his hands while he levered himself up; no use giving Kirk the chance to grab for any sharps while he was still off-kilter.

"You're mean, Kirk,but that doesn't make you any different from the other jackasses that slithered off the transport the day you got in. You're ambitious? Good. There's no one here who isn't. You want the glory and the conquest? The 'fleet loves cadets like you because you're good front line fodder. If you want to live long enough to see admiral, you're going to have to be clever, and that means choosing your fights wisely."

"I don't." Jim shrugged.

"Choose wisely? I noticed."

"Want to be admiral. I'd rather you clever ones had the desk job; I'll take the Enterprise."

They walked along in neutral silence for a time, heading toward the medical compound though Leonard hadn't realized his steps had turned in that direction until he glanced up and saw the block looming up before them.

"Let's take this inside and have a drink. I have a counter-proposal for you."

Jim slanted him a questioning look, suspicion plain on his face.

"I'll be CMO of that ship one day. Crewmates should learn to get along."

Jim's smile was wide and bright, free of the cruelty or malice Leonard had come to expect mirrored the expression, distracted by how Jim's eyes seemed to light up from within for just that split second. He was beautiful even then, almost innocent in his joy.

By now Leonard knew well looks were deceiving, especially when it came to Jim Kirk.

!

!

Jim hadn't been sure of the welcome he would receive when Bones input his access code and led them through into the compound beyond. As it turned out he needn't have worried, none of the medical cadets were lingering outside. Probably all staffing sick bay, waiting for the next emergency to crop up or in their dorms sleeping off a shift.

Bones led him through the halls, up stairs, carefully avoiding the lifts and pausing on each landing before he would permit Jim to start walking again. Fortunately Bones wasn't in the upper levels, settled comfortably on the fifth floor instead at the end of a corridor with no other dorms too close. It was a good tactical position as far as Jim could see and after their chat earlier, he wondered if Bones had a hand in choosing the location of his quarters.

He'd had some idea of surreptitiously watching for Bones' code when he gave it; not out of any desire to actually pay a visit while Bones was out, but simply because it was his nature to learn everything he could about a potential ally. Bones' smirk said he knew precisely what Jim was up to, and it only widened when he swiped his palm across the keypad.

"These haven't been installed outside the med facilities yet. You'll find new tech trickles down from us." Jim could hear glowing pride in his words and wondered if Bones knew his arrogance was showing again. Not that Jim would complain, it was a good look for him.

Just like that moment back in the quad when he had forced Bones down, not sure what he was going to do but determined to make some sort of lesson stick. Until he saw the way Bones glanced up at him, almost pityingly, as though his every impression had been proved correct and somehow he'd found Jim lacking in a fundamental way. Like Jim was predictable, somehow less than he ought to be. That look had given him pause, and Bones had exploited it ruthlessly.

He tamped down on a shiver of lust at the memory. Maybe he could suggest to Bones that they make this a partnership in every sense of the word. Jim slid into the dorm quietly, still warily scanning for threats though Bones seemed to have let his guard down the moment he stepped through the door. It might take longer to outsmart a scanner rather than a keypad, but it could be done. Jim could have told him, but he didn't, still stinging from Bones' comments earlier.

The room was slightly larger than his own, but no more furnished. A bed, a desk, another door that Jim took to be a bathroom and a wardrobe built into the wall that was missing a few shelves. It looked suspiciously like they might have been pried away, but somehow Jim couldn't see Bones deliberately vandalizing Imperial property.

Bones snatched a flask off the desk, tossing back a hearty gulp of its contents before offering the flask to his guest. Jim wondered how much of it was meant to assure him the drink wasn't poisoned and how much was supposed to wipe the taste of death from his mouth. Either way, Jim sipped only lightly before handing it back; Bones shrugged and took another pull before stoppering it.

Jim settled on Bones' bed, entirely at ease. If he had his way, he'd be spending more time here anyway. "So, we've established that you think I'm a cocky asshole not long for this world."

Bones hardly seemed to notice his choice, pushing himself up on the desk to lean back against the wall. "That just about sums it up." Jim wasn't sure if he had imagined the glint of humor in those hazel eyes, but he let it pass unremarked.

"And I suspect you're just a bleeding heart playing at being dangerous."

Bones pursed his lips and shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not so bloodthirsty as you."

"And you've spent a lot of time rationalizing that, making it seem like a perfectly reasonable course of action."

"Whatever you say, Jim." That tone set him on edge, soft and low as it was. Winona used to say that only cornered animals wasted their time barking and growling, he was reminded of that now.

"You don't enjoy this." Jim waved his hand to encompass everything this academy stood for, everything they would eventually stand for. Bones nodded without seeming remotely ashamed of it.

"I do."

"I noticed." Wry amusement, a definite smile if a small one.

"So my proposal is this: when you have a problem, bring it to me and I'll take care of it, with pleasure. In exchange, you make sure I don't find too many problems of my own. When the time comes, you put a word in Pike's ear about my suitability for the Enterprise."

"There it is. That's what you want." Bone' relief was plain in his grin, greed was something he knew well and thought he could control, ambition was easily manipulated. Leonard McCoy thought he had just learned everything there was to know about Jim Kirk.

Jim didn't see any reason to correct the assumption.

"Everyone knows I'll be assigned to the Enterprise when I'm through here, and if it's true what I'm hearing about Boyce staying dirtside I'm going to find myself promoted to CMO sooner than expected. That doesn't mean Pike will consult me for anything. If you're good enough, he'll bring you aboard and that's the end of it."

"The captain is required to consult with the CMO when choosing his next first officer."

"You won't be seeing that position for a long time."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'm not asking much of you, and I'm offering to keep your hands clean for the rest of the time you're here."

"After word of Ramsay gets around, that won't be an issue anyway." Jim could see him considering it, though. Bones was a careful man; he liked to be prepared for every eventuality, and it couldn't hurt to have a little 'vicious frontline fodder' on his side if the odds ever turned against him.

"I'm surprised you even have to think about this. Weren't you just telling me on the quad that a doing man was a tool for a thinking man?"

Pride would be Leonard McCoy's weakness, Jim knew because it had always been his too.

"How do I know you won't turn on me the second you find someone you think is stronger?"

"I guess my word wouldn't be good enough?" Silence was all the answer he needed.

"I told you. I want to know how you got this far, and I think it'll take more than a year's acquaintance to figure you out. You're safe until then."

And then Bones would be safely installed aboard the Enterprise anyway. Only a fool would think he could get away with openly murdering the CMO of the flagship, and Bones had to know that too.

Jim didn't even realize he'd been holding his breath until Bones nodded slowly, fingers tapping out a thoughtful tattoo against the synthwood of his desk. "Alright. Let's call this a trial period. I want Marlene off my back, she's my problem-"

"Done."

"I wasn't finished." Bones slanted him a reproachful look, "I don't want a pet killer, Jim, or I'd've found a partner years ago. Show me you're more than just another one of those animals, and that I'm not wasting my time teaching you petty tricks only to lose you to stupidity before your first year is out. Pike thinks you're some kind of genius. Prove it."

After a moment's thought, Jim finally nodded his assent, watching the tension flee Bones' frame. He wasn't sure if Bones realized it was more conscience than cleverness dictating his actions at this point, maybe he had just repeated his litany so many times he had begun to think it was true. Either way, Jim was always up for a challenge.

"There's one more thing."

Bones' tone was casual, offhandedly light. It seemed he was about to hear that counter-proposal.

"Ramsay left some work behind that I think might shed some light on his motives. Think you could get a hold of whatever data he had stowed away?" He relaxed onto that desk the same way he had the pavement of the walkway just before striking out at Jim's knees. Stiffness in every line until Jim nodded agreeably, offering Bones his sincerest smile.

"As good as done, Bones."