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Chapter Eight: A Resting Place

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In the brief flashes of lucidity he managed to grasp, Jim beheld the familiar white panels of the Enterprise corridors streaking overhead. He was still on a stretcher, he imagined, from the way he was moving. A constant stream of noise hit him from all directions, but mostly it came from his immediate left. It was accompanied by a familiar face sporting a messy shock of dark hair and worried eyes.

Bones. Jim tried to smile at his friend, but his body wouldn't have it.

There Bones went again, flapping his mouth without making any noise.

"Damnit Jim, I'm trying to study here, can't you see that? It may come as a surprise to you but some of us actually have to put a lot of effort into this school thing. I'm barely scraping through these classes as it is."

"I'll help you later, Bones! Come on; just a couple of drinks."

"I said no and I meant it."

"Yeah, well I don't believe you. If you must know, I've looked into the future and although it seems a little fuzzy, I'm certain alcohol is involved."

"Too damn bad, kid. You'll have to drag my dead body down to the bar if you're so determined to drink with me."

Fine, Bones. But you brought this on yourself."

A screaming machine blared loudly down at him, and Jim vaguely recognized MedBay. It was hard to see around the cluster of white coats and white masks that bustled around him. The sight of the colorlessness, the sterile smell of antiseptic and rubber gloves all made Jim want to gag. It had been a long time since a hospital had sparked such a deep, overbearing fear in the pit of his gut. That might have had something to do with the fact that he couldn't breathe.

Coughing, he strained to half-lift himself, desperate to take in air to his starving lungs. He could feel blood running down his chin as the medics pushed him back down on the table. He had the feeling that something was seriously wrong but couldn't focus well enough to pinpoint the source. Whatever drugs were in his bloodstream had taken the crippling edge off the worst of his pain, but that was the least of his concerns now. They also made it hard for him to focus, and impossible for him to process any communication from the medical officers swarming around him.

Bones was suddenly beside him, now wearing rubber gloves, and he was trying to push something—a mask—over his nose and mouth.

Jim railed, pushing his friend away. Couldn't he see that he couldn't breathe? Almost at once his arms were pinned by disembodied hands, and that damn mask was there, over his face, blocking his last chance to draw breath.

Jim was on the verge of panic, taking in shallow, rasping breaths, trying to find air around that smothering rubber mask. His heart was pounding so fast he could feel it between his ears. Or maybe that pounding sound was from something else? He couldn't remember.

The last thing he remembered was gentle hand in his hair, stroking absently. His eyes flickered shut and he drifted off.

.

With a shuddering gasp, Jim woke. He had the odd sensation of breaking above water.

He was shirtless, lying on a glaringly white biobed. Tubes and wires ran from various parts of his body to an unnecessarily loud machine situated at his left. He tried to lift himself up on instinct. The landslide of pain that rewarded him for this attempt quickly had him back flat on the bed.

The machine chirped in alarm in response to his soaring heartbeat and Bones darted around the edge of the makeshift curtain thrown up around his bed, obviously in the process of removing his gloves.

"Keep still, Jim." Bones moved faster in that complicated medical maze than any man really should have been able to, and he was there at Jim's side in a millisecond.

Jim tried to speak; tried to ask him what was happening. He was more than a little alarmed to realize that the breathing mask was still securely fastened to his face.

"I know you're disoriented right now but it is extremely important that you keep still." Bones was saying, "You punctured a lung and the tissue is healing but still very fragile."

Punctured a lung? Jim's frown of confusion must have shown past the mask.

McCoy sighed. "Guess you must have gotten knocked around a little more than you thought. It didn't really shift until we moved you and you started thrashing around."

Jim lifted his chin to look down at himself. A long, thick scar ran down the lower half of his chest. Above, a whirring and clicking dermal regenerator was slowly scanning his body, working its way up and down the scar. It said a lot for the lovely black and purple discoloration all over his torso that Jim had just now noticed it. All told, it really didn't look like the worst part of his injuries.

"I had to go in the old-fashioned way." McCoy's voice was tight. "We couldn't risk it."

Now the scar made sense. He was still extremely tired, and he hadn't tried to move anything but his neck yet. Now that he had a look at himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Setting his head back down groggily, Jim lolled towards Bones. The doctor wasn't looking at him, staring instead at the scar on his chest. The regenerator had done its work well—the cut couldn't have been made more than a few hours before, and it already looked years old—but even modern technology could only do so much. Jim had the sneaking suspicion that he might never be completely rid of it.

"Every time I let you out of my sight." Bones sighed heavily, holding himself up on the railing of Jim's bed.

"How long?" Jim mumbled through the mask. It said a lot about the number of times the two had found themselves in this exact position that Bones was able to easily decipher his question.

"Sixteen hours."

Jim blinked. He should have guessed that some time had passed, judging from the heavy bags under Bones' eyes and the wrinkled, stained uniform. But sixteen hours?

Jim was trying to keep his breathing under control. He really was. And having Bones within arm's reach helped immensely. But he knew that he needed to get out of medbay soon before his anxiety exploded.

He hadn't yet tried to move his injured arm, and he didn't plan to. Taking advantage of Bones' distraction, he used his good hand to peel the mask off his face and take a deep, cleansing breath. The stale, concentrated oxygen never worked well for him.

"I need to get out of here, Bones." Jim looked at his friend pleadingly, silently begging him to understand.

"You're insane." Bones scarcely blinked. "You're really, truly insane."

Bones wasn't taking him seriously. This was bad. Jim drew a long, shuddering breath to calm himself. His head was pounding again and his body was on edge, urging him to flee.

"I'm healed up." Jim tried to smile; it came out a nervous wreck of an expression. "It doesn't hurt at all."

"I just hauled your bleeding ass out of a stranded deathtrap infested with bloodthirsty prisoners." Bones scoffed. "There is no way in hell that you are moving from this spot."

Jim's eyes flicked wildly from side-to-side, panic bubbling in his chest as his mind was quickly overwhelmed by flashing lights, white walls, and loud machines. He was too tired, his emotions too threadbare to deal with this uncomfortable place that reminded him too much of other places. Not now.

"Bones," Jim rasped, "I can't stay here. I can't."

"You can and you will." McCoy glared dangerously at him. "You move an inch and I'd be well within my rights to let your lung puncture again and watch you drown in your own blood."

Bones turned away; probably just to check a chart or fetch some piece of medical equipment. Jim's overactive mind saw it as a sign that he was leaving. He half-sat up as he lunged for Bones' arm.

"Don't—!"

Bones whipped around with more dexterity than Jim gave him credit for, catching Jim's arm and pressing it firmly back to the bed at his side. "Captain or not," he hissed, leaning close, "you are under my care until I release you and pitching a fit is not going to help you out here. Do you understand?"

Jim swallowed hard, more than a little intimidated by the Doctor's sudden change in temperament. He hadn't seen Bones truly pissed since their academy days.

"I know that you don't give a rat's ass about yourself, I really get that." Bones was seriously angry now. "I know you don't think about the people who have to drag your sorry ass up out of the mud, and I know you'd sit yourself right back down in it if there wasn't someone holding your hand. But I for one care more about keeping you alive than I do about your fragile mental state." Bones growled threateningly, his grip tightening on Jim's arm.

Jim's eyes widened, but he quickly masked the hurt that the words brought. Bones was angry; he always said things he didn't mean when he was angry.

"So you will remain in the bed exactly where you are or I will make you. Got that?"

Jim nodded once, his throat tightening as emotions he was no longer in control of flooded the frayed edges of his mind.

He watched, head throbbing with confusion and hurt as Bones released his arm and stalked away from him. No matter how shocked he was at his friend's sudden flare of temper, he couldn't help but feel the loss of his presence keenly. More than anything in the world, he didn't want to be trapped here, alone in a sterile white hospital bed. Again.

Bones didn't make it four steps before he paused, his shoulders slumping just slightly. "I'm sorry, Jim." He sighed softly. "Jesus, I'm sorry."

"I just wanted you to stay." Jim whispered roughly, his throat aching like mad as he tried to will away feeling. His pride was railing at him now, berating him mercilessly for his pathetic weakness but that part of him that was just tired didn't even care.

Bones looked at him sharply, and the cold mask on the doctors' face melted away as quickly as it had appeared.

"God, Jim." Leonard sighed heavily as he took a seat by the bed. "I'm such an idiot sometimes." He bowed his head to rest his forehead against Jim's shoulder in a distinctly unprofessional manner.

It was a simple gesture, but it opened a floodgate for all the worry, stress, hurt and pain to melt out of Jim in one amazing moment. Bones was here, and Bones wasn't mad at him. He wasn't alone.

"Not your fault." Jim slurred, almost shaking with relief that he hadn't been deprived of Bones' presence. With everything else going on, that was something he couldn't have dealt with. He probably would have made a run for the door.

For now, he could hate this sterile, alien, agonizingly white environment as much as he liked: he knew he could deal with it if he had a familiar presence by his side. And not just any familiar presence: Bones. Bones was here. Sighing softly, Jim couldn't help smiling as his mind released his body into sweet, dark oblivion.

.

"Give it to me straight, Doc." Jim sighed melodramatically, leaning his head back into the pillows. "I can take it."

It had been 28 hours, give or take a few minutes, since he'd escaped the Arabeth, and Jim was once again hellbent on convincing his best friend—his Doctor, now—that he was perfectly healed and more than capable of leaving the biobed unattended.

"Oh can you." Bones growled, pulling up a rolling stool. He'd put off explaining the extent of Jim's injuries to him so far—mostly because Jim had been passed out cold for the last 12 hours.

"I swear it."

"Mhm." Bones pulled an old-fashioned wooden pencil out of a messy jar one of the nurses kept at her station and rolled back over to Jim.

"I'm not sure I like where you're headed with that pencil, Bones."

"You wanted it straight."

"Maybe not that straight."

"Pay attention. We'll start with your arm." Bones held the pencil directly in front of his face, looking at Jim as if he were speaking to a six year old.

Jim put on his listening face.

"First, your humerus bone was snapped cleanly in two." Bones snapped the pencil in half to demonstrate. "Then, to compound the break, you allowed yourself to be jostled and prodded and generally thrown about. Like so." He rubbed the two broken ends of the pencil together, creating a terrible crunching sound. "How's that for straight?"

Jim swallowed nausea as he stared at the pencil. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely."

"You're a cruel person."

"I try my best."

Sulu mercifully chose that moment to walk into the medbay. Brushing aside the half-open curtain which Jim had insisted be placed around his bed whenever he was present in medical, he pulled up a chair.

"Hey, hey, hey." Jim pointed at him indignantly. "Privacy policy!"

Sulu looked at Bones. "You have a privacy policy?"

Bones shrugged. "No."

"That's what I thought."

"It's a Captain thing." Jim glared at his friend. "I allow Bones to treat my glorious and sacred self, and in exchange—" He waved his hand at the curtain, "—I get my privacy."

"Kid, you're in a medical establishment." Bones sighed. "There's no such thing."

"You lied to me."

"You'll get over it. I promise."

"Anyway." Sulu coughed. "I was going to come and see how you were doing, Captain, but it looks like you're feeling pretty well."

Jim glanced down at himself, a human-shaped object wrapped in bandages and propped up on pillows. "Well my left big toe hurts a little."

"Jesus." Bones muttered as Sulu laughed.

"Tell me about my crew. This dictator over here won't let me up to check on them."

Sulu snorted. "They're all fine, Captain. A few of the medics are pretty shaken up, and Gibbons cut his knuckles tossing up barricades but he's already been treated."

Bones muttered something insulting about the man's lack of masculinity but Jim ignored him.

"What about you? Holding up?"

Sulu gave him a look that was somewhere between incredulity and worry. "I'm fine, Captain. I was locked in corridor the entire time we were captive, aside from about ten minutes I spent hacking at convicts. I didn't even really have a chance to get into trouble."

"Good." Jim grinned. "The prisoners?"

"Secured. Spock is taking care of that; he has them sequestered in holding."

"He gets to have all the fun."

Sulu gave him a sideways look; the kind of look Jim usually got when people couldn't figure out if he was joking.

Jim didn't bother clarifying. It was more fun that way.

"Have you contacted Maraka since we've been back?"

"Ensign Chekov did. They're sending another transport to pick up the prisoners. It should arrive within two hours."

"Cause we've already established how safe that is." Bones mumbled sarcastically from his makeshift workstation by Jim's bed. If Jim hadn't known any better, he could have sworn his friend was sulking.

"We'll ensure that additional precautionary measures are taken to keep the situation aboard the Arabeth from repeating itself." Jim sighed. "I'll see to it personally."

Bones mumbled testily, but he couldn't keep Jim in the bed for much longer. He'd already promised him that if he could sit still and allow the Doctor to run tests for one hour, he would let him visit the bridge to check on his crew.

This promise had been made approximately 58 minutes ago, and Bones already regretted it.

Jim was testing the waters now as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. After much complaining, Bones had allowed him to change into a fresh uniform, but any activity beyond that had been strictly forbidden.

"Are you well enough to be up and about?" Sulu eyed him apprehensively, on the edge of his seat as though he expected to have to jump up to catch Jim at any moment.

Jim scowled at him. "Of course I am. Besides, the Doc has already signed off on it. Isn't that right, Bones?"

Bones was muttering again, curses and colorful adjectives just out of earshot, but Jim caught the gist.

Easing up slowly, fighting against the twinge in his still-healing ribs, he let his feet down on the cold white floor and dropped his weight off the bio bed.

That was a mistake.

Jim wasn't even aware that his legs had given out until he was halfway to the floor and two pairs of hands had reached out to stop him from faceplanting.

"Goddamn moron." Bones seethed as he pulled Jim back up onto the bed. "I warned you."

"I'm fine." Jim mumbled, feeling light-headed. "Just been on my butt for too long, you know?"

"Maybe you haven't been on your butt long enough." Sulu suggested, watching Jim carefully.

"Hey, he doesn't need any help." Jim scowled.

"So, staying in bed." Bones crossed his arms and stared down at Jim. "Are you convinced yet?"

"Don't even think about it." Jim glared at him testily. "I'm going up to the bridge to work with my crew and that's final. I'll get some rest if that'll make you happy once those scumbags are off my ship."

He was lying, but Bones didn't have to know that.

"I don't know why I stick around you." Bones griped, keeping a hand on Jim's arm as he tried to stand again. "You make a mockery of everything that I stand for as a Doctor, you know that?"

"You say the sweetest things, Bones."

This time, Jim's legs only wobbled a bit as he took a few exploratory steps around his curtained partition. He tried not to notice how both Bones and Sulu kept their arms partially extended, just waiting for him to take another dive.

"I think my legs are working again." Jim smiled awkwardly, locking his shaking knees. He hated knowing his crew was staring at him, waiting for him to fail. Few things put him on edge more.

"Come on, Sulu." He gestured as he made his way, albeit slowly, towards the turbolift. He didn't bother protesting when Bones invited himself along, eying Jim dangerously.

"Let's see what Spock has done to my ship."

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So, I actually had another three or four chapters worth of plot planned out for this story, but I'm thinking this might be a good place to end it too (after the next chapter). What do you guys think? A short and sweet ending to launch off a new story, or continue with the original plot?

But to answer the most popular question, yes: there will be more stories. :) I'm too hooked. I'd like to develop a series of stories in the same general universe: interrelated, if you will. I'm also itching to do an Academy fic, though I'm not sure when I'll tackle that.

ALSO: I have a LiveJournal now, thanks to some of my lovely reviewers. :) My username is thisdeepblue (my name was already taken, sadly). Be my buddy?

Thank you again for the epic amounts of reviews that magically appeared to make my life happy and joyful. You have only yourselves to thank for these quick updates. :)

I don't actually have time to respond personally to reviews this time around (I'm sorry!) but please know that you are all SO appreciated and loved, and I really do read your reviews about a million times before I post the next chapter. Feel free to message me too; I always respond to messages.

You inspire me. :)