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Chapter Eleven: Between Moments
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Bones looked exhausted.
This was possibly the first fully comprehensible thought that formed in Jim's mind after he woke up—for the umpteenth time that week—in the dimmed white lights and electronic white noise of sick bay.
Doctor McCoy was slumped sideways in an uncomfortable-looking chair beside Jim's bed, his head and neck hanging at an angle that promised cramps when the unfortunate doctor awoke. Deep shadows hung beneath his eyes—he probably had only just managed to drift off to sleep, and who knew how long Kirk had been out this time.
Content for once to lie quite still, cocooned in disproportionate comfort considering his location, Jim traced the lines of the ceiling with his eyes. He felt tired as hell, but not yet in pain. This was obviously because he hadn't yet tried to move a muscle, and for once he was in no hurry to make the attempt. He remembered noise and lights and pain and did not care to revisit any of those things at the moment.
But he was a Federation Captain now—not some delinquent Iowa farmboy, which meant that he probably should.
He slowly turned his head to watch the clean white line that traced the rhythm of his heartbeat bounce up and down on the screen by his head. His eyes were still not willing to focus correctly, so it took him a moment to translate the tiny electronic display that showed the current stardate.
He winced inwardly. At least this time, he had only been out for one day.
At least I'm still alive. He reminded himself. The last time he'd been alert enough for conscious thought, he had been pretty sure he wouldn't be again.
"Are you in pain, Captain?"
Jim was proud that he didn't jump at the soft but unexpected voice—though maybe this was simply because his body was too tired to do so.
He shook his head just slightly. "Not at all." He tried to smile at his first officer; found the pull of unused muscles too exhausting.
Spock stepped closer, his uniform once more in pristine condition and his hands clasped behind his back. It said a lot about Bones' state of being that he didn't even stir.
"I am relieved to hear it." Spock nodded, his dark eyes flickering over Jim's body as if to ensure that he was telling the truth. "I look forward to your return to the bridge. I know the crew is anxious to see you make a full recovery."
"Didn't know you cared." Jim did manage to smile this time.
The Vulcan gave him an eyebrow. Jim chose not to address it.
"The prisoners?" He let his eyes slide closed, keeping his voice as soft as possible. He had more than one reason for not wanting Bones to wake up just yet.
"They have been sedated and removed from the ship. They will be unable to trouble us any longer."
Jim sighed heavily. He trusted Spock of course: trusted his crew, but he had needed some final word of closure. He had needed to be sure.
"What remained of the crew of the Arabeth was recovered successfully and the ship itself was taken in to Maraka for disposal procedures." Spock went on, voice low out of respect for the sleep-deprived doctor. "I have compiled an incident report as acting Captain. After contacting Starfleet and informing them of your condition, they have agreed to let you sign off on my statement until you are fully recovered. At this time a video conference will suffice to complete your personal report."
Less paperwork. Maybe Spock wasn't all bad, after all.
"Thanks." Jim wasn't really surprised; the Vulcan was nothing if not efficient.
"May I make an inquiry, Captain?" Spock suggested after a moment of stillness.
Jim nodded, still letting the tension seep out of his veins and muscles like poison.
"Yesterday you attacked the convict that attempted to take the ship with a specific result in mind."
This conversation. Brilliant.
"Thought I'd give a little of that Vulcan logic a test drive." Jim swallowed.
"Logic dictates an unyielding course of action in a conflict?" Spock frowned. "This is not Vulcan logic, Captain."
"Sarcasm, Spock. It's a human thing."
Spock paused, eyebrows knitted in the closest expression he had to confusion. "If I may, I could not help but infer that your actions were greatly influenced by a certain Medical Officer in your confidence." His eyes flickered down to said medical officer, ensuring that he was still asleep.
Jim clenched his jaw. "So every time I shake your hand am I going to have to make an official order to keep you from barging into my personal life?" It came out sharper than he had intended.
"You were broadcasting, Captain." Spock didn't seem willing to back down, either. "I am simply led to wonder how the Doctor would react if he were to discover your suicidal tendencies were impacted by his words to you."
"I wasn't being suicidal." That stress was creeping back. "I was trying to make the right decision for my crew and my ship."
Spock's chin dropped as he looked down in a brief gesture that almost seemed born of frustration. "Captain. I have reason to believe that losing you would not be right for this crew or for this ship."
That gave Jim a moment's pause. He had a moment's flash of insight and wondered, just possibly, if everyone around him were repeatedly telling him the same thing then perhaps they were right. At least partially right.
"I did not come here to berate you for your actions." Spock breathed out. "Particularly considering the fact that they were commendably enacted to ensure the protection of those under your command."
Jim sighed. "Then why did you come here, commander?"
"To confirm your well-being."
Jim couldn't help the soft scoff. "Well as you can see, I'm I tip-top shape. I'll be back to duty in no time."
"You were shot, Captain. I would scarcely call that 'tip-top shape'."
"I was?" Jim frowned, craning his neck to look down at his torso. He was almost surprised to see a thick layer of clean white bandages wrapped around his abdomen.
"Temporary memory loss is not an uncommon side effect of physical trauma." Spock supplied helpfully. "I am sure your memories of the incident will return to you shortly."
"I know." Jim let his head drop back onto the pillow.
Spock didn't look surprised to hear that. Considering all that he knew about Jim's past now, why should he be?
The very thought made Jim's blood boil once more. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. He'd always known his memories would come back to haunt him, no matter how far in the past they were. He just didn't think the dagger in his back would come from his first officer.
"Can we just… forget about this, please?" Jim rubbed his temples with one bandaged arm. He knew he sounded childish, but he really, desperately needed some time to sort all of this out. He was still very tempted to just pretend all of it had been a bad dream; it had never happened and he never needed to address it again.
Spock's expression was uncharacteristically soft. "Of course, Captain." His response surprised Jim. "We need not address the matter at present."
There it was, the now. The loophole, the way out, the caveat.
How about never?
"I can see that I am tiring you." Spock didn't sound very apologetic. "I will return in time for an update on your progress."
Jim said nothing as Spock quietly left the room, still ranting in his mind.
Check on my progress? Because I'm a test subject in a lab, just "making progress"—
"What was that all about?"
Jim looked over to see a familiar frown, brown eyes fixed keenly on his.
"Shit." Jim hissed in exasperation, screwing his eyes shut. "I thought you were asleep."
"Please. I was awake the second you started yapping, you loudmouth."
"I have no luck today."
"Since when did you ever." Bones muttered, leaning back and crossing his arms.
"I don't know. I was sometime before I met you, for sure."
"You gonna avoid the question, or what?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. I think I will."
"Funny, I think it's time to give you another sedative…" Jim didn't miss the threat as Bones stood to reach for a hypo.
"Stop." He held up a hand imploringly. "It was nothing."
"Didn't look like nothing."
"I thought you didn't care." Jim's chuckle was empty and echoed of hurt.
"Hey." Bones pulled his chair up close to Jim's bed. "You know that's not what I meant."
"I don't know what you meant." Jim felt bone-tired. "I don't know what I meant. I don't really have a clue, actually: but you already knew that."
Bones sighed heavily, dropping his head into his hands just long enough to pull his fingers through his messy hair, making it stand on end even more.
"Jim. After the things we've said to one-another… hell, after we've beaten the living shit out of each other… how can you think the day would come when I wouldn't care?"
Jim tried to smile, tired to laugh. It came out like a strangled gasp. "I don't know, Bones. Guess I've got confidence issues or something."
"Damn straight." Bones wasn't being subtle now, wasn't being uncomfortable. He reached out and grasped Jim's hand hard, and it was maybe the best feeling Jim had ever had.
He tired to squeeze back and found he still wasn't feeling very strong.
"Let's not talk about it, right?" He suggested, brows creasing in effort. "Let's just—"
"Jim." Bones stopped him with a word. "You might be willing to forget about all of this with a smile, but I'm not going to let myself off that easy. What I said to you—what I did to our friendship by losing my temper—it was wrong."
"No, Bones, just don't—"
"Just listen." Bones breathed out harshly. "Goddamn it, you know I'm not good at this."
Jim was silent, because he did know, and he really wasn't sure what Bones had to say and part of him was hopeful and part of him was freaking out and really didn't want to hear this.
"I heard what Spock said."
Great.
"Really?" Jim tried to ignore the words; Bones would not be so easily put off.
"Yes. And I really deserved that. But I meant everything I said to you."
Jim's heart sank in familiar disappointment and he nodded. "Yeah, Bones." He tried to smile and failed. "I know."
"That's not—look, I meant it, but it was wrong to say it. Hell, half of it wasn't even really true. Especially that—I mean, you do care about people. You care about everyone around you, a whole hell of a lot more than you should."
Well now that was confusing.
"I'm confusing you."
Jim breathed shakily. "That obvious?"
"Yeah."
"I get it. You're mad because I got hurt again, Bones—"
"Not finished." Bones shushed him like a little kid. "And I'm going to break it down for you, real simple."
"The last time you did that, you murdered a pencil."
"They're outdated anyway."
"But—"
"Shut up, Jim. What I'm trying to say is: you know how you always throw yourself into stupid situations because you don't want other people getting hurt, right? Because it hurts less for you to hurt than to see any of us hurt?"
Jim swallowed awkwardly. "I guess you could say that."
"Right. Now imagine that every single time, it was me that got hurt." Bones clasped the front of his uniform earnestly. "Every time, it was me. And you were fine, but you had to see that."
Jim was starting to understand McCoy's point, and looked away. "Bones—"
"No. Listen to me. That's how it is for me, do you get it? Every time, I have to look at you while you're hurt, and there's nothing at all I can do about it."
"I do get it Bones." Jim fake-smiled up at the ceiling.
"Do you? Because I'm thinking that you don't."
"But if there were something you could have done to stop me from getting hurt, wouldn't you have done it?" Jim was still staring down the ceiling panels.
"You know I would."
"And that's how it is for me. I can't do nothing and watch it happen... Even if it hurts me. I'm the captain of a Federation Starship and over four-hundred crew members, Bones."
"Jim—"
"I can't do nothing." Jim repeated, smiling. He finally glanced over to meet the doctor's eyes "It's not in my job description."
Bones huffed. "Yeah, you've made that abundantly obvious." He hadn't released Jim's hand, and looked down at it regretfully. "So can we just make a deal, here?"
Jim grinned. "I'm not agreeing to hourly check-ups. Or being wrapped up in bubble-wrap. Or rounding all the sharp edges on the ship—"
"Can you just think about us before you do something like that again?"
Jim paused, and Bones looked so earnestly at him that he wasn't really sure how to answer him.
"I was." He hedged.
"No. I mean, think about us afterwards. Think about me, goddamnit. About the fact that I tend every single cut and bruise I see and always hate myself for it."
Silence reigned supreme between them for a long, full moment as both parties let this request sink in and take hold.
"Yeah, Bones." Jim squeezed his friend's hand back, and managed to put a little strength into it this time. "I will."
The doctor sighed, grinning just a little and Jim realized he hadn't seen him smile in days. And that was his fault.
"I'm so sorry, Leonard." He breathed, trying not to let humor cloud his sincerity. "I'm such a selfish idiot sometimes."
Bones' smile widened. "Yeah, that's true."
Jim watched Bones as he turned to pick up his tricorder—a duty Jim was surprised he had neglected the instant Jim awoke—even if it had been to make a rare, heartfelt apology.
"Spock knows." He found himself saying, hating the desperate, empty sound of his voice.
Bones glanced down at him, pausing. "He knows…?"
"Everything." Jim swallowed, rubbing his eyes hard. "And I didn't tell him. He just… knows."
"I figured something happened between you two but… how?" Bones sank back down into his chair, tricorder momentarily forgotten once again. This had to be a record.
"I guess I was… broadcasting, or something. Over the last few days."
Bones was silent, his eyes thoughtful. "Is this a bad thing?"
Jim had to hold himself back from biting Bones' head off. "Of course it's a bad thing." He ground out through clenched teeth. "How can you even ask that?"
"Because so far, he hasn't done anything to betray you. He hasn't told anyone. Hell, he's being freakishly nice to you."
Damn, but Bones was being infuriatingly calm and reasonable about this.
"So he pities me. That's a great alternative." Jim laughed hollowly. "That's just great."
"Oh, shut up, whiner. He doesn't pity you. Believe it or not, I think he's just trying to be your friend."
Bones instantly looked a little apologetic for his curt tone, but all things considered it wasn't the meanest thing Jim expected Bones to say to him.
"Yeah. And I always start a friendship by collecting emotional blackmail."
"I don't think that's what he was trying to do. If I know you—and I do—your emotions are kind of all over in stressful situations. If I can see them outwardly, it makes sense that someone like Spock, a touch-telepath, would be able to feel or see them after some kind of contact."
Bones successfully ignored the glare Jim was throwing his way.
"For some reason, I thought you were going to be on my side, here." Jim grumbled as Bones began carefully scanning his side.
"I am on your side." Bones matched his tone. "I just think this isn't the complete disaster you're making it out to be. You've said yourself that you want to get over this shit. This could be a good start."
"I'd rather it be on my own terms."
"We don't always get to choose those things Jim." Bones was being unusually patient with Jim's griping. "You don't really have a choice other than to go with it." He paused to look down at Jim. "You can't really bury the past, Jim. Best you can do is deal with it in your own way."
"I know." Jim sighed heavily, trying his hardest not to wince as Bones began carefully removing the bandages from his side. "I know, I really do. I just can't let it go that easily."
Bones paused, and Jim tried not to notice, tried not to see that look in his eyes. It wasn't something he needed right now. He didn't need to be reminded that he'd willingly told Bones more than Spock had ever unwillingly learned, and that all of that dangerous knowledge was still there, carried next to the doctor's heart like a secret weapon.
"Jim?" McCoy pulled the captain back from his mental brink with a word.
"m'okay." Jim grinned. "I'll live."
"Yeah." Bones chuckled. "I don't think the whole damn fleet could kill you if they tried." He grimaced at the open wound in Jim's side; Jim chose not to look too closely.
"You should talk to him about it." He surprised Jim by saying. "Clear the air. Right now he acts like he's walking on glass around you."
"Thanks Mom." Jim scoffed. "What's with the relationship advice all of a sudden?"
"Cut the bullshit." Bones didn't sound angry this time. "I'm just saying, you'd both be a little better off if you hit this thing on the head instead of dancing around it like a couple of pansies."
Jim chewed on that for a while, mostly to entertain the image of Spock dressed like a flower dancing around the ship. That was something he'd pay good money to see.
"When'd you get to be so smart, Bones?" He sighed at length, glancing up at his friend.
"Eh." Bones shrugged, snapping a glove. "I started hanging out with this pretty smart kid back at Academy. Had to step up my game."
Jim managed a real laugh. "I'd have to say you're doing a decent job of it."
"Well now that I have your stamp of approval, I can sleep at night."
Jim grinned widely, immeasurably relieved to have his gruff, sarcastic version of Bones back at his side. He'd been seriously considering the possibility that this wouldn't happen—but then again, he'd always managed to see any spat or argument with anyone he'd ever been close to as the end of the world.
He hissed in surprise and pain as a white-hot jolt of fire shot up his side, and for the first time he believed Spock telling him he'd been shot.
"Sorry." Bones' eyes darted over to him apologetically.
"I'd rather it be you hurting me than them any day of the week." Jim tried to joke, but he knew it'd fallen flat when he saw the guilty look on the doctor's face make a brief reappearance. "Bones." He said in his most commanding voice. He waited until the doctor look up at him. "This time, it seriously wasn't your fault. I was a moron."
Bones looked appraisingly at him. "Well I guess this whole fiasco wasn't a total loss if it managed to knock some sense into you after all these years."
"I guess not." Jim laughed. He watched the doctor work for a moment longer, and then decided to press his luck.
"So. When can I get out of here?"
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Happy birthday, a day early! And this one's extra long, to make up for the last chapter being extra-short. I don't think many of you actually noticed that, but still. Lots of talking here, lots of resolving things. And the next chapter will be the final one, and will finally wrap everything up! Aren't you glad? Of course you are.
THANK YOU reviewers! You are SO amazing, and you have this way of injecting goodness into my less-than-stellar days that has become something of a necessary fix. I neeeed you. :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter! There is still one more to come.
Romanse: Thank you so much. And yes, I will be making a much greater effort to keep Uhura and Chekov's duties separate and distinct. :)
Squigglytext: Aw, I feel honored! But why were you out getting soaked in the rain? Don't worry, if you catch a cold, I will write many stories to entertain you during your convalescence. :)
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ColtDancer: Bahaha, your review made me laugh out loud. SO sorry to leave you hanging again. Hopefully this chapter will appease you: both in speed, length, and lack of a cliffhanger. :)
SublimeRubbish: I know what you mean! It's so hard to find a friendship story that deals with just that: two men struggling to be friends despite their propensity for luckless relationships. I hope this story meets all your expectations. :)
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