"The greatest act of courage is to be and own all that you are without apology, without excuses and without any masks to cover the truth of who you truly are."
I'll be Good
Chapter 11
Thursday, August 23rd, 2255, and Jim Kirk is still finding himself caught up in the same thing. Girls. They're everywhere. Outside his dorm, they're there. In his classes, they're there. In the library, yup, cafeteria, most definitely. Even off campus they're there. So who can blame him when he finds himself drooling over the campus dame?
Her name, well, unfortunately it's Hermione Rand, Professor Rand's daughter. Despite her mother's obvious old features, and obscure face structure, Hermione inherited only the beautiful traits. She has fair smooth skin, glossy gray eyes and flowing blonde hair, that tumbles over her strong shoulders. Her cheek bones and jaw line are sexier than his own if he does say so himself. The smile makes him stumble in stride and her wink has him hooked around her finger.
She's just a girl.
He finds himself saying, always casting glances her way, desperate to catch her smile, pearly white teeth hidden beneath plush pink lips.
Much to his disappointment, she's out of his league. Actually, she's not even in the same sport. Though, she does seem to enjoy toying with him, nervously smiling his way during Xenobiology, his nine am class.
Jim decides that's his que to come beside her, so he does, right in the middle of class, ducking under students to hide himself from Professor Mondy, to keep the older gentleman from spotting him. Hermione suppresses a giggle in her sleeves and stares down at him as he crawls underneath her desk, thankful that the desk has a front cover to block him from view.
Shaking her head, the luxurious blonde bends down, her grin utterly elegant, making him fixate his eyes on the edges of her lips and surprisingly, not all embarrassed by the whole situation. He did in fact, just army-crawl to her and dived beneath her table.
"Who might you be?" She whispers, crossing her arms as she puts her elbows on her knees, gazing softly at him.
"James, Madame."
"And James, do you take me for royalty?" Hermione inquires rather innocently, only sparing the Xenobiology teacher a glance.
"Oh no Madame, I just thought that a beauty such as yourself deserves some respect for being so easy on the eyes. This place is an eye-sore, but you Madame are a diamond amongst this dust." Jim insists with a smile of his own, listening to her giggle quietly, "Well, Sir James, may I ask why you are under my desk?"
"That's classified Madame." Jim replies with all seriousness, Hermione smiles and shakes her head.
"Well Sir James, you don't know my name, and surely you must ask because I cannot bear to be called 'Madame' for the rest of the time being."
He nods knowingly, "Then, what is your name my fair lady?"
"Hermione."
"Well Hermione, I hope we meet again, with apology I must depart, before Professor Mondy discovers me."
"You must leave swiftly, for he's already staring." Hermione informs him and sits herself upright, ignoring Jim as he peeks out to make sure the coast is clear before crawling back to his original seat.
Even though he won't admit it, his heart beats a little faster for the rest of the class. At the end, he only earns another textbook to the collection. What class doesn't require one?
Professor Mondy wastes half of class threatening his students. He doesn't accept late work, no retakes on quizzes or tests, and bookwork will be graded as well as notes. Three tardies one has to stay after class, four gets a student an absent, and five means that person is getting sent to the office. Damn, strict or what?
The class is dismissed, Jim couldn't be happier. It's ten fifty-one. His next class is in nine minutes, but Hermione, in all her beauty catches his gaze. She flips her hair over her shoulder, rebelliously breaking the rules, for people with long hair were to wear it up in a ponytail or bun. Though, since her mother is Professor Rand, she can get away with breaking a few lousy rules right?
Sighing, Jim shakes his head, he has to get to Forensic Psychology, there's no point in drooling over a girl only to be late for his next class. He'll just have to hit her up later. Unfortunately for him, by the time he's out the door, finally escaping the masses, he has less than five minutes, and his class is upstairs at the opposite side of where he's currently at, according to his PADD. Of course he has no idea where to go, without his PADD he'd be lost.
Jim takes to the stairs, weaving between people, occasionally dipping his head to some pretty women before continuing in his haste.
Then, he runs into him.
"Jim?"
"Francis?"
They stare at each other rather blankly, both coming to the realization they're heading for the same door.
"You're taking-"
"Yeah, Forensic Psychology." Francis confirms, and they glare at each other for a moment longer, both contemplating whether or not they should sit next to each other.
"Do you-"
"Sure." Francis cuts in, seeming to read his mind.
Jim nods slowly and lets Francis lead him inside, taking to the back rows of the room. He almost complains but he decides better. Francis would probably lock him out of the dorm again. Yesterday he hadn't been entirely truthful with McCoy. Yes, he got locked out of his dorm and Francis was inside, but the man was most definitely not sleeping. Jim had accidently woken the man up that morning when getting ready for hand-to-hand. Francis wasn't completely coherent that morning and might've thrown a few cusses and fists his way, but Jim was able to dodge and run, and upon returning, Francis had locked him out.
He thinks about it, he probably deserved it, should've been quieter and respected Francis' sleep. Though he knows a certain doctor would beg to differ. McCoy always makes him the victim, and he feels slightly insecure about that. He's not a child, not anymore. He can handle himself. But there's something different about the man, he pushes and McCoy pulls, he doesn't seem to go away, he's just always there.
Maybe that's what Jim needs though, something firm, unmovable in his disaster of a life. McCoy, he can be his anchor, his life raft, all he has to do is let him in. But Jim's not sure if he's ready for that, ready to expose himself, to be truly and utterly plainly, himself.
"Hey, you awake?" Francis pinches his bicep, making him yank his arm away, eyes searching for the source of the voice, only to meet Francis' stare, "You zoned out." He explains dryly, shrugging and turning himself back to the professor.
Jim huffs and sinks down in his chair, rubbing his face tiredly and trying to focus in on the professor's voice.
Professor Nichols is her name, short in figure, but young and beautiful. She's of black ethnicity, her skin rich brown with exuberant black eyes and long strands of curly hair pulled into a professional bun. She speaks loud and clearly, informing her rather small class of students the upcoming assignments, the expectations, and field experiments they will be conducting.
He has to admit it, he's entirely consumed in the ideas of psychology, and his attention is purely devoted to listening to every word Professor Nichol says, his mind hanging on the edge of her words, the sound of her voice the only thing reaching his ears.
When class is over, he leaves without a word, ditching Francis within the crowds of students and practically sprinting all the way to the library, only two books on mind.
He checks out both his Forensic Psychology textbook and Xenobiology. Now, he has textbooks for Astrophysics, Starfleet History, Prime Directive, Xenobiology and Forensic Psychology. Why the hell does Prime Directive need a whole damn textbook? A question he'll never be able to answer.
With his two new books in hand and his PADD balancing on top of it all, he skips all the way back to his dorm, finding it rather empty. Francis probably went out for lunch. Despite the fact it's almost one in the afternoon, Jim finds himself at loss for appetite. Instead, he fills up his water bottle and divulges himself into the first chapter of his history book. He creates a new file for his notes on his PADD, lying on the floor of his room, shirtless with a blanket draped over his shoulders. His door is wide open and he's pretty sure he left the front door unlocked, though with Francis he doesn't want to accidently lock him out. No need to get beat up today.
He spends the next two hours reading contently, legs kicking and swinging in the air. Jim hums a soft tune to himself, finishing up the last page and saving his notes. Once done, he sighs, bringing himself to sit upright and blink owlishly at the time, realizing he hasn't eaten since this morning. Though he supposes he could just wait for dinner by now. But the food comes to him.
"Jim?" His name is called out somewhat cautiously.
Frowning, Jim gets up and peers outside his room, finding McCoy with Chinese takeout in his hands. The sight is almost ridicules. McCoy looks completely worn, jacket open with his undershirt untucked and hanging out. His hair is splayed out across his face, looking as if the wind has toiled it over.
"Bones?" He says questioningly, seeing that it's just him, no Sulu, no Chekov.
"You didn't come to lunch." McCoy explains, inviting himself into Jim's room, but he doesn't mind, he likes the southerner's assertiveness, on most days that is; sometimes it can be a real pain in the ass.
"Forgot." Jim mumbles, slipping on a shirt and reorganizing his textbooks to make room for the southerner.
"Oh, you have Forensic Psychology?" McCoy says, intrigued at the notice of his textbook, "Yeah, had it today." The blond replies, nodding his thanks when McCoy hands over his share of food and they get comfy upon the floor.
"At eleven?"
Jim scowls, "Yeah how'd you-"
"I have the same class. Where'd you sit?"
"The back."
"With-"
"By Francis."
"Hmm."
"Don't approve?"
McCoy shrugs, "The man doesn't necessarily like you."
"You just described every person on this campus."
"Not me-"
"You're the exception."
"What were you doing?" McCoy changes the subject, diving into his much appreciated meal.
"Starfleet History. My only homework."
"Must be nice, my Klingon Physiology gave me some readings as well as my med class."
Jim hums, "Nice."
"Yeah, nice…who's the girl?"
The blond glances up, pausing, "What?"
"Jim, there's already rumors spreading, something about George Kirk's mighty son doing some recon work during Xenobiology."
His mouth falls agape, "How'd you know-"
"Oh c'mon, I know Hermione Rand, everybody does. She's hot, smart, great personality. She's-"
"The campus dame." They say in unison and Jim laughs.
"Sounds like you two met."
"Oh no, just everybody talks about her. She's the hotty of the school."
Jim nods smiling, "Believe me, she is."
"How about the Orion girl?"
"Gaila? She's out of my league."
"So is this girl."
He glares at McCoy, "Whatever, I can't get near the Orion chick, she's sailing a different boat, but Hermione, I can get to her."
"She's a Rand."
"Is that supposed to stop me?"
"No, but Professor Rand might. You'll get on her bad side."
"Too late for that shit."
"Jim." McCoy says warningly, but Jim shakes his head, "Doesn't matter Bones, I'll do what I want."
"That's true."
There's a pause, the air full of them chewing, munching down on their Chinese food.
"I'm getting an internship."
Jim looks up, "Where?"
"Medbay."
"When are you starting?"
"Saturday."
He groans rather dramatically, "I hate that place."
"It's not that bad."
"You haven't been to many hospitals have you?"
"Jim, I'm a doctor."
"Yeah and I'm an alcoholic."
"You get drunk often?"
"Not often."
"Then you're not an alcoholic."
"Alright, ex-alcoholic. Heavy drinker when I was younger."
"That true?"
"Very."
McCoy sighs, "I left behind a family."
"Never had one, what's it like?"
Even though Jim says it lightly in a joking matter, there's more truth to it then either one of them is willing to admit.
"It's shit. Got a divorce and ran like hell."
"She's that bad?"
"No, not at first. Most of it was for my little girl."
Jim blinks at him, blue eyes staring, "How old?"
He can't believe McCoy has a little girl, growing up without a father. Hopefully it's not as messed up as his situation.
"She's turning six."
"Congratulations to you."
"I really need some beer for this shit."
"I feel you."
"So, I'm here because of my wife, what about you?"
Jim laughs, "Oh, got dared by a certain captain."
"What about before that?"
"Iowa bars."
"Sounds like the life to be living."
"It was."
"What's your girl's name?"
"Joanna."
Jim smirks, "I like it."
"That's why I picked it."
"Because I like it?" Jim asks with an incredulous eyebrow raise that would shame a vulcan, if they knew a vulcan.
"Because I like it, moron."
"Oh."
"So, wife was a bitch?"
"Liked another guy."
"Oh, wanna talk?"
"Not really, not drunk." McCoy chuckles, taking a moment to scratch at his brunette hair, draping over brown piercing eyes, it's shaggy and childish, but Jim thinks it suits him, makes the southerner look younger.
"Same."
"Jim?"
There's a change in tone. Jim meets McCoy's eyes, setting down the bowl and fork, taking a breath before prompting, "Yeah?"
"We're friends, right?"
Jim's heart stops. He's never had a friend before. He's not even sure if 'friend' is in his vocabulary. What's a friend? What do friends do? Are they considered friends?
His voice catches in his throat and he's left staring at McCoy until he's able to clear it and speak up.
"Ye-yeah. You can call it that."
"What do you call it?"
"Favorite human."
McCoy rolls his eyes, and Jim pauses. They are friends. McCoy is no longer some stranger, its him, its Bones, and for some weird, slightly odd buzzing feeling, he just knows that Bones will be there for him, no matter what. So, from then on out, his favorite human, sitting before him, will now be dubbed as Bones, permanently, until further notice.
Author's Note: Hey guys, thanks for all the feedback, I'm loving it! To those of you who are shy, don't worry, I don't bite and I try to reply to all the pms/reviews I get, just sometimes I'm busy so it takes a couple days, but other than that I'm usually pretty quick. So, did you guys like it? Were Jim and Bones off character at all? I think I got them down pretty well, and like I've said and heard before, they write their own dialogue. It's just so natural, I love it! I know this chapter is a bit short, but it's good right? Well, I'll let you guys decide, until next time. Live Long and Prosper.