While You Were Sleeping
Chapter 14: What Do You Need?
John ate another spoonful of the oatmeal that Dorian had forced on him. He hated to admit that with a little sugar and butter, it tasted pretty good, and warmed his stomach. Dee called it "healthy comfort food." That was an oxymoron, but John was not in the mood to argue.
He leaned back on the couch next to his husband, still waking up from his earlier nap. Dorian was flipping through channels on the light screen when John saw a glimpse of himself, and one of Jim, on the afternoon news update.
"Go back one...turn it up."
A perky blond reporter stood in the field adjacent to the house where Jim had been held captive, a very grave expression on her face.
"Behind me is the rundown shack where Jim Kirk-McCoy was held captive, and tortured for 48 hours. Yesterday evening, Mr McCoy was rescued single-handedly by Detective John Kennex of the Delta precinct. His captor, Bruce Dekker was shot dead. We spoke to Mr McCoy's husband Dr Leonard McCoy, earlier today about the ordeal.
Len's tired face filled the screen. "It's something you never want to imagine...the person you love most in the world at the mercy of someone who only wants to hurt them. If it hadn't been for officer Kennex...I would probably be a widower right now. I'll never be able to properly thank Detective Kennex and his husband for their friendship, and their help in finding Jim. Jim has his recovery ahead of him, and it won't be easy, but I feel incredibly lucky right now."
A male reporter stood next to Len in a perfectly pressed shirt and tie, making the doctor appear even more disheveled.
"Is it true that Jim was with officer Kennex last Friday, before he was taken? Do you feel like that played any part in what happened to him?"
"The guy who took Jim was trying to get to me. He wasn't going to stop. I'm grateful John is part of our lives, for a lot of reasons, but, if it hadn't been for John, and Dorian I know I wouldn't have gotten Jim back. They saved both of us."
The screen changed to the blond girl again, and John set his empty bowl on the coffee table, listening intently as she spoke.
"It should be noted that the Detective went against official protocol, and went after Dekker without the back-up of his android partner, Dorian, who also happens to be his husband. When asked about the police department's reaction to their officer going against regulations, Captain Sandra Maldonado had this to say:
Sandy looked exhausted too, and John began to realize how many people this incident had affected.
"Detective Kennex is absolutely one of our best officers. He doesn't always play by the book, but, good police work is a lot of instinct too. While I can't encourage my officers to 'go rogue', John is a very experienced detective. He knew he was racing against the clock to find Mr McCoy, and he did what he had to do. This department is very lucky to have him."
The reporter continued in her cheery yet serious tone, "Clearly, Mr McCoy was very lucky to have Officer Kennex in his corner. We should also mention that there are two three-year-old little girls who are now orphans. The twins, whose mother died by Dekker's own hand, are currently in a foster home, awaiting further medical and psychological evaluation before being placed in a more permanent setting."
The blond gave a final nod and the screen switched to the man and woman who were anchoring the news report. Another over-eager blond, and some guy with overly styled hair offered their own commentary.
"That's quite a story. How lucky that Officer Kennex was able to find him. And they're friends too, right? Amazing." The blond smiled for the camera.
Her co-anchor nodded, "Isn't that the same officer from a couple of years ago…"
John raised an annoyed, bruised arm, the plastic bracelet still loose on his wrist, and snatched the remote from Dorian. He turned the television off in disgust and the light screen vanished from the wall.
"I was watching that," Dorian sighed. He didn't push the issue though, his eyes fixed on John with concern. The last few days had been horrible, and it couldn't have been fun to see his name in the news again, even in such a positive context. To this day, he was often brought up in news reports about Insyndicate.
"Let's get back to the hospital," John said, obviously antsy.
"It was nice, that news report," Dorian said casually, making no move to get up. He put his hand on top of John's.
"I just did what I had to do to save Jim," John said, pulling his hand free and crossing his arms. He still felt like he was in limbo.
"Well," Dorian said, pushing out a sigh and cocking his head as if searching for the right words, "Not really, John. You saved Jim, but you didn't have to take the risks you decided to take. You could have-"
"Jesus Christ, can we not talk about this?" John asked, vaulting to his feet and grabbing his oatmeal bowl, the spoon clattering loudly against the side as he slammed into their small, galley kitchen off the side of the living room, dropping it loudly into the sink.
Dorian had to smile a little. John always thought he could change the topic of conversation through dramatic gestures and loud noises. He followed to where John was washing out his bowl in an effort to make a racket. It was truly a miracle to see John wash a dish so promptly. When the man opened the dishwasher and slammed the bowl inside, Dorian knew he must be upset.
"John," he said, blocking the only exit from the kitchen, "You chose not to call for backup."
"I'm going to see Jim," John said, shoving past the android who could have easily stopped him.
"Okay," Dorian said, "But you can't avoid this conversation forever."
John walked toward the bedroom as if he hadn't heard the last comment.
"We will discuss what happened."
John scowled at his husband's ominous statement and kicked the bedroom door shut.
Len was taking a catnap in the comfortable recliner next to Jim's bed. He shifted a bit, opening his eyes to check on his husband, and just as it had every other time he glanced over at Jim, emotion hit him like a freight train. He was here, and alive, and Len was going to make sure that no one ever, ever hurt him again. He reached over to caress the skin on the inside of Jim's wrist, on the arm that wasn't wrapped in a cast, and the younger man's eyes fluttered open.
"Hi Darlin' " Len smiled, standing up so he could bend over and kiss Jim on the cheek.
Jim smiled weakly, and keeping his eyes on Len's face, groped for his husband's hand on the bed.
"Hi Lenny." The sound of his scratchy voice made Len's eyes sting with tears, but he blinked them back. He wanted to be strong for Jim. He could deal with his own emotions later.
"Thirsty." Jim rasped, pulling Len out of his thoughts. He grabbed the tall cup of ice that sat on the table over the end of the bed, and fed a few small chunks to Jim with a plastic spoon.
"Not too much now," he cautioned, "go easy."
Jim nodded and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back on the pillow. Every part of his body felt stiff and sore.
"Surgery's over?" he asked.
"Went like clockwork. Dr Chekov says he wants to get you up and walking. He should be by later."
Jim groaned at the thought, but he knew the longer he waited, the more painful it would be. He opened his eyes again and tried to smile at Len, who reached to touch his cheek.
"I'm sorry…" Jim said suddenly, tears clouding his blue eyes.
The words felt like a punch in the gut, and Len caught his breath.
"Jimmy...don't…"
"John wanted to...walk me to the car…"
Len lowered the railing on the side of the bed and moved to take Jim in his arms, trying to maneuver around IV lines, bruises, and a broken arm.
"Hush baby. Don't talk like that. It's not…"
"I should have listened. I was so stupid..." Jim insisted, his good arm wrapped around Len's waist like a vice.
Len shook his head in protest. "I should have told you about that maniac when he showed up at my office. If I had…" Len moved so he could see his husband's face. It was still badly bruised, and the doctor tried not to think too much about how those bruises had gotten there.
"There was a car parked at the end of the block a couple of times last week. I'm sure it was…" Jim shivered, thinking about that man watching their house. Watching them. He leaned into Len again and closed his eyes.
"Can we just stay like this...please?" Jim asked.
"Of course honey. You just...just tell me what you need, alright?" Len sat awkwardly on the edge of the hospital bed, with Jim leaning into him, his head against Len's chest. Both men seemed lost in their own thoughts.
"I was so scared…" Jim's voice was barely above a whisper. Len closed his eyes, and felt a sharp pain in his chest. "I knew I wasn't coming home...knew I'd never see you again."
He could barely get the last word out, and Len cradled Jim's head while the younger man's body shook with silent sobs.
"You're safe now darlin'. I promise." Len's own voice was shaky, as he willed himself to keep his own emotions in check. Jim clung to him, unable to do anything but cry. The doctor in Leonard knew this was a good thing. It was a start to letting go of some of the fear and pain that Jim had suffered. The other part of him however, the part that was a husband, could hardly stand to see Jim like this.
"I tried...tried to figure a way...but there wasn't…" Jim hiccupped around the words that tumbled out.
"It's alright honey…" Len soothed. "It's alright now."
"He killed his own wife. Did you know that?" Jim looked up into Len's dark green eyes and the older man nodded. "He killed her...that's when I knew, he wasn't going to let me go…" Jim licked his lips, tasting his own tears. "He was just going to keep sending you those fucking pictures until…"
"Jim…" Len's voice broke. He didn't think he could listen to anymore right now.
Jim broke down again, and there was nothing for Leonard to do but hold him. Several minutes passed before the younger man's sobs turned to quiet weeping, as Len rubbed his back. Finally, he laid his husband back against the pillows and wiped away the last of his tears.
"I want to go home." Jim said, his voice hoarse from crying.
"I know," Len said quietly, carding his fingers through the dark blonde hair that was left on Jim's head.
"Perhaps I can help you wis zat." Dr Chekov nodded when the couple turned at the sound of his voice.
"Afternoon Doctor." Len wiped at his own eyes quickly and held out his hand.
Chekov acknowledged his colleague before turning to his patient.
"How are you feeling, Jim?" he asked as he took a look at the pad with Jim's chart information.
Jim sniffled, feeling disoriented and sore. "I'm awake. That's a start I guess."
Chekov smiled and looked at the bruising on the other man's face. Why was it that bruising always looked worse as it was getting better?
"I would like to see you take a walk ziz evening, if you are able. Just down ze hall and back for now. We will recast your arm tomorrow I think." He nodded to himself, as Leonard tried to sneak a peek at what he was entering into the pad. The shorter man glanced over his shoulder and smiled.
"Do you wish to consult, Dr McCoy?"
Len blushed at getting caught. "Oh...sorry…" he scratched the back of his neck and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Jim lay looking up at the ceiling, seeming to be a million miles away.
"Actually," Dr Chekov glanced at Jim once more, and seeing that the injured man had closed his eyes, he continued. "I vould like to speak vith you for a moment"
The younger, curly-haired physician led McCoy out into the hall.
"Is something wrong, Pavel?" Len's heavy brows knitted together in concern. "Jim's arm is ready for the cast isn't it?"
"Yes of course," Chekov made a dismissive motion with his hand, leaving McCoy even more confused. "It iz not his physical healing I vish to discuss."
Len let out a sigh and nodded, waiting for the other man to continue.
"You are aware he vill suffer many after effects from ziz ordeal, yes?"
In addition to his medical degree, McCoy had a PhD in psychology. He was painfully aware of the struggles that his husband was facing.
"I am. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get him through this."
"You are an excellent physician Dr. McCoy. Sometimes it is not easy to be objective vith someone that ve love."
"I…"
"I vould like to suggest zat Jim speak vith someone, before he is discharged, and I zink that you both vould benefit from talk therapy."
"Jim is my main concern. I can handle this just fine. As long as he…"
"Ziz has affected you as vell Doctor." Chekov glanced pointedly at Len's feet and the older doctor felt uneasy for some reason.
"You have not had anyone examine you since Jim vas brought in?"
"Me? What for?" Len scowled at the doctor with the cherubic face, wondering what the hell he was getting at.
"Your feet doctor. If stitches vere necessary, it is too late now but…"
"How…" Len cut him off in surprise. "How did you know about…"
"You underestimate me because I am young Leonard?" Chekov smiled knowingly at him. "Zat iz surprising considering who you are married to."
Len stood with his mouth hanging open as the Russian continued. "I am saying zat your emotional health is just as important as Jim's. Perhaps more since you are his support system. You must take care of yourself, yes?"
Len took as shaky breath as the words sank in, and nodded.
"You know Doctor Spock? He is an excellent therapist vith experience in treating patients who suffer from post-traumatic stress."
"I know him," Len nodded. How ironic that he'd probably end up talking to the doctor he'd recommended for John.
"His viife, Dr. Uhura has recently joined his practice. She is highly regarded as vell, and I zink her personality might be better suited to Jim. It is your decision of course, but…"
"Thank you Pavel." McCoy shoved his hands in the pockets of the scrubs he was wearing, his nerves suddenly on edge. Jim was home, but they had a long road ahead.
Chekov nodded, and laid a hand on McCoy's arm. I vill send in a nurse to help Jim get up for avhile. He also needs to eat. Vhatever he vould like."
"Of course. Thank…"
"Do not vorry Leonard. If Jim vere not strong, he vould not have survived this. The love you have is a source of strength also. You must rely on that."
With words of wisdom well beyond his years, Dr Chekov took his leave. Len stood in the hall a moment longer, his mind trying to process everything that had occurred in the last ninety-six hours.
"Len?"
The sound of Jim's still-scratchy voice brought the man out of his own head as he hurried back to his husband's side.
Jim smiled up at him and reached for his hand. "I'm...sort of hungry. Did Dr Chekov say I could eat?"
Len smiled back, thrilled beyond measure that Jim was asking for food. It was something normal, and a sign that he was healing.
"Anything you want darlin'. Just say the word." Len hit the buzzer for the nurses station, feeling Jim's big blue eyes watch him.
"What is it baby?" he asked softly, squeezing Jim's hand.
The younger man glanced away for a moment, his face actually coloring with embarrassment.
"It's…" his voice caught in his throat, and Len watched Jim's eyes fill with tears.
"What is it Jimmy?" Len moved closer and cupped his face, his heart squeezing as Jim leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.
"It's stupid…" he whispered almost fiercely.
"No honey, just tell me. If I can do it for you…"
"Can you cut my hair...please?"