Enigma
Part One- "Devil May Care"
Leonard McCoy would never truly understand the enigma that was Jim Kirk.
At least this time he didn't nearly hit his roommate over the head with a baseball bat when he came creeping back into their dorm after staying out until an ungodly hour, but boy was he tempted. Maybe a concussion would get rid of some of that kid's genius-caliber brain cells and make room for some common sense. They had an advanced physics final the next morning at eight AM, for God's sake. And McCoy wouldn't attempt telemetry while hungover for any sum of money. Why he had to take this course as someone on the medical track anyway was beyond him. He was a doctor, not a navigator. McCoy peered blearily at the clock and groaned.
"Damnit, Jim," he muttered under his breath as he heard the man in question flop noisily onto his bed and fall immediately into the steady breathing of deep sleep. He swore to himself that if that kid massively failed the exam waiting for them in three hours that he would show no mercy, and rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep, equations and algorithms swirling uselessly through his head.
Unsurprisingly, Jim refused to get up the next morning. Although McCoy really did try: ice water, blasting music, ripping covers off, throwing textbooks, swearing, yelling, threatening- the works. In fact, he mused as he walked to class alone, he really deserved a Nobel Peace Prize or something for his patience with that infant sometimes. He filed obediently into the lecture hall after the rest of his class, lingering in the doorway just in case Jim suddenly appeared. But there was no devilish smirk or call of the nickname McCoy so dearly loved to hate, so the doctor sank into his seat, resigned. Maybe this would teach the kid a lesson.
At eight AM on the dot, McCoy opened the test booklet and began frantically scribbling answers and equations across its blank pages. But his eyes were repeatedly drawn away from the sea of numbers and diagrams by the void in front of him at the desk where Jim should have sat.
"Damn it, Jim," he repeated under his breath, just as the professor called out that they had reached the halfway mark of the examination period. The door swung open with a bang, and the entire class looked up.
McCoy let his head fall into his hands. No. Way.
"James Kirk," scolded the professor, "you are very late."
Other cadets rolled their eyes and turned their attention back to the exam in front of them, but McCoy could only stare disbelievingly at the front of the room.
Jim flashed his signature disarming grin and nodded. "Yes ma'am, sorry about that. I overslept."
"Do you still wish to take the exam? It is extremely unlikely that you will finish," she warned him, but his smile didn't dim in the slightest.
"I'll take it."
McCoy forced his attention back down to his own desk as Jim settled noisily into his own seat, flipping lackadaisically through the test booklet before finally beginning. The doctor snuck another glance at the clock and swore internally, hands shaking as he realized he only had forty-five minutes left.
The next half-hour was a blur of figures and calculations, and McCoy allowed himself a sigh of satisfaction as he finished the final problem. At least he had answered them all. Whether they were correct or not was another matter entirely. Suddenly he felt eyes on him, and glanced up. Jim was watching him in amusement, pen between his teeth and test booklet closed. McCoy glared at him, completely nonplussed, and Jim shrugged before stretching and climbing gracefully to his feet, striding to the front of the room and placing his exam in the exact center of the professor's empty desk. She stared at him with one eyebrow raised, mouth open as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't, and Jim was gone.
McCoy found him outside ten minutes later, lounging easily in the grass and flirting easily with a red-head that McCoy vaguely recognized from his Xenobiology class. Jim caught his eye, and ended his conversation, falling into step next to the doctor.
"Well…" he smirked, "how'd it go, Bones?"
"Fine," McCoy huffed irritably. "At least I won't have to be retaking that class next semester, unlike a certain party animal I know. Tell me, just how hungover are you right now?"
Jim grinned infuriatingly. "I'm not. I just didn't see the point in sitting through that entire test. It's called budgeting my time responsibly."
"Damnit Jim!" McCoy growled. "Well I hope for your sake that you don't have to suffer through another three months of telemetry."
"We'll see."
They didn't get their exam results back for several weeks, but when they did, McCoy found to his immense relief that he had passed. Barely. Goddamn astrophysics. He glanced up from his test and found Jim at the professor's desk, back to him. Probably trying to beg his way out of retaking the course, McCoy figured. They were let out into the cold night air, and there was an immediate chorus of groans and sighs of relief. McCoy was proud to hear that he had actually scored higher than the vast majority of the class, and turned towards Jim, who was just emerging from behind the double doors.
"How's Professor Anderson?" he asked, suddenly guilty for thinking that the kid had gotten what he deserved.
Jim shook his head. "She had one of the answers wrong on the key, and I wanted to point it out to her because I knew for a couple of people that it could have made the difference between passing and failing."
"So how did you do?" McCoy pressed.
"Fine," Jim replied, and seemed unwilling to share further. So it hadn't gone well then.
McCoy shivered, suddenly realizing that he had left his jacket back in the classroom. He told Jim to go on without him, and ran back through the encroaching darkness to the Physics building. He pushed open the door to the classroom, part of him surprised to find it still open, and paused in surprise. Professor Anderson was sitting alone at her desk, staring blankly at a small stack of papers in front of her, but she looked up as he walked in.
"Sorry, I just forgot my jacket," he explained, grabbing it off the back of his chair. The professor nodded, and looked back down, seeming to forget he was there. McCoy hesitated in the doorway, shrugging his jacket over his shoulders.
"Are you alright?" he asked politely, curiosity and tinge of medical concern allowing his Southern background to color his voice slightly more than normal.
Professor Anderson looked up again, allowing a slightly hysterical giggle to escape her lips. Now the doctor was more than slightly concerned for the normally austere and implacable woman, and took another step forward as she continued.
"He… I don't know how, but… he aced it… no one has ever- and he used less than forty minutes…" She trailed off, and it suddenly occurred to McCoy what on earth she was suggesting. Wordlessly, she held out the stack of papers, and the doctor took them gingerly from her grasp, suspicions confirmed and replaced with incredulity. It was Jim's exam.
"Damnit-" he started to say, but faltered, speechless. Little did he know it would not be the last time.
