Scotty does his best work at night and in the wee hours of morning; it's quiet and there's no one pestering him with stupid questions. It's just him, the gentle purr of his engines and Keenser lurking about somewhere. He can accomplish a lot, especially much needed repairs and upkeep that often gets neglected in the hustle and bustle of the day. It's why he doesn't mind taking his turn at beta and gamma shift.

That and there's fewer junior engineers to try and manage. He loves being Chief engineer- of the Enterprise no less, but he could do with less of the people management part; especially the young ones that can't tell one end of a sonic screw driver from the other. It's what makes this time alone with the engines so nice. He can do twice the amount of work by himself when left alone then he can with the 'kids' underfoot.

Chekov might be the one bright star in the bunch and technically he's not part of engineering. Having shown an interest in the department, Spock agreed to let him shadow Scotty. It's the best decision the captain's made so far, in Scotty's opinion. Unfortunately, Scotty has to share Chekov with the bridge.

It also means he has to redo the circuitry on the regulating panel by himself tonight. It's not difficult, just tedious. He's sprawled out on this back with his head buried in the consol when he blindly reaches for his hypospanner. His hand hits nothing but deck, and then slightly to the left a decoupler. He tries again towards the right of his pile of tools and hits a trident scanner. He knows the hypospanner's there, he laid it out himself. With an irritated huff he tries again.

"Here."

The Hypospanner hits Scotty in the arm, taking him by surprise. "What the..." he yells in surprise before his head collides with the console- hard as he tries to sit up to see who's intruding upon his solitude.

Jim winces at the thud and takes a step back as Scotty comes flying out from under the consol. Jim raises his hands in surrender while Scotty sits up wielding the spanner like a weapon like he's the only one standing between the Enterprise and full on Klingon invasion.

"What the hell?" shouts Scotty looking at the consol with betrayal before looking at Jim. "Where did you come from? What are you even doing here? Ouch!" The engineer does look like he's going to have a fairly good goose egg on his head tomorrow.

Jim just shrugs. "Thought I'd take a look at the engine room. The Enterprise is supposed to be one of the fastest ships in the fleet. I wanted to see for myself what all the fuss was about."

Scotty looks skeptical. Warp drive and manifolds might get his pulse racing but it rarely does it for anyone else. "You've got an interest in engine rooms?"

Jim shrugs nonchalant. "I've got a thing for ships. And it beats staring at the walls tonight."

Scotty can work with that. "Well, ye come to the right place," says Scotty starting to slide out from the consol. He'll gladly talk about his lovely lady Enterprise.

"Please, don't let me stop you from finishing," says Jim, holding his hands up to stop Scotty's efforts. He isn't here to drag anyone away from their work. He's also not looking for the ambassador tour either. The things that make a ship special are the small often overlooked details that fail to impress the casual spectator.

Scotty sticks his back in the consol, hypospanner in hand. He prattles on about all the engine specks and non text book solutions he's had to implement over the years to keep the ship functioning. He never once has to ask for the tool he needs next; Jim already has it in hand waiting for Scotty to take it as Jim sits idly on the consol. Even more impressive, they're all calibrated precisely to the task. Scotty can't even get the junior engineers to be that on the ball or intuitive. The job gets done in half the time it should.

"Where'd you learn your stuff?" asks Scotty as he finally gets to extricate himself from the consol.

"It's good to know the basics of everything on a ship. You never know when you may need it."

"So you were in Starfleet," surmises Scotty. Only someone who's served on a ship knows the value of being a jack of all trades because if it can go wrong, it will go wrong.

Jim looks a little pained, going quiet and shrinking in on himself. "A long time ago," he whispers, like saying it too loudly will summon all the pain and agony he experienced when he lost it.

"Engineering track?" asks Scotty, not because he wants to pick at such an obvious wound but because he knows almost nothing about the man before him and this is the longest, most productive conversation they've ever had and he kind of wants to keep it going.

"No," says Jim with a snort. "I had a lot of free time as a kid and very little supervision. I got into the habit of taking things apart and putting them back together; especially my dad's old bikes. Working as a mechanic was an easy way to earn credits on the side or anywhere I ended up and needed temporary employment."

Self taught, Scotty can get behind that. "Anytime you want to come down here and be a glorified assistant, you're more than welcome," offers Scotty, his mouth moving faster than his brain. It's the kind of offer he should run by the Captain but what transpires in engineering during gamma shift couldn't really hurt anything.

"I'm not that board," says Jim with a laugh. He slides off the consol and ambles out of engineering.

Scotty's pretty sure that's the end of the whole thing, except two weeks later Jim's back again, wordlessly handing Scotty tools as he's hanging out of a Jefferies tube.

Leonard's dead on his feet. Not only are beta shifts a giant pain in the ass but they eat up the whole day. Rank has its privilege so Leonard doesn't have to pull any gamma shifts but he still has to take a turn at beta shift. He'll be glad when the week is over.

It's after midnight so he's not surprised that the lights in their quarters are dimed. He tip toes inside. Hopefully Jim's fast asleep and if Leonard's quiet, maybe he can slip into bed and enjoy a few hours of cuddling before Jim slips off to poke around in the astrometrics lab.

"Surprise!" yells Jim, jumping up from behind the couch.

Leonard flinches hard backing up and almost falling over the side table. His heart's beating like a jack hammer. He lets out a long breath as the lights come up. Realizing his life's not in immediate danger, he snarls, "What the hell, Jim?" If he wasn't awake before he is now.

Jim just stands there in his party hat and blows into a paper horn that unrolls with a squeal until it taps Leonard in the face. Leonard doesn't look all that impressed, but Jim doesn't care, he can get Leonard into a celebratory mood. "You thought I forgot, didn't you?"

Leonard has to wrack his brain. Clearly he's the only one that's forgotten something here.

"Happy Birthday," declares Jim, giving Leonard a peck on the cheek.

"Oh. Oh." Leonard does the math in his head. It checks out.

Jim takes Leonard by the hand and leads him to the dining room like a kid dragging their parents to come see what Santa left. "I know you've already had dinner but how about dessert?" he asks, making a sweeping gesture over the table to emphasise the goodies he has laid out. Jim pulls out a chair for Leonard.

Leonard's still eyeing the spread as he sits down. Jim's managed to layout most of his favourites: peach cobbler, macadamia cookies, crème brulee, Andorian ice tarts and Ogarian jellies. They'll be able to eat for a week. "Someone's been busy."

"I replicated it myself," says Jim with pride as he turns on the candles and dims the lights. "Open your present!"

Leonard looks to the left of his plate and sure enough there's a neatly wrapped little box. He gently tugs the ribbon loose letting the wrapping paper fall away. Leonard looks at Jim in confusion. "It's your PADD?" He's not sure if he's missing something or Jim just didn't have time to actually get Leonard something or maybe Jim got confused in all his scheming and wrapped it by mistake.

"Turn it on," instructs Jim, with the infinite patience of someone explaining technology to the elderly.

Leonard thumbs it on with a little trepidation. He keeps his eyes glued to Jim for any clue as to what's going to happen, because with Jim, it could be anything. He can only take so many surprises tonight. Jim just smiles and shoves a large mouthful of cobbler in his mouth.

"Happy birthday, daddy," cheers Joanna from the PADD.

"Hey baby girl," says Leonard fondly, running his hand over the screen like it will somehow lessen the distance between them. A tear runs down his cheek as he watches her move boxes around her new dorm room. If he can't be there in person, this is the next best thing. He's not sure how or if Jim got authorization for this vid chat. He's not even going to ask. "How's the move going?"

"Oh you know. Lots to do before classes start on Wednesday. Skylar's been an immense help," she says angling the camera to get her boyfriend in the shot.

"Happy birthday, sir," says Skylar with a little wave as he deposits a large box on Joanna's bed.

"You're going to do great, sweetheart," assures Leonard. He's probably as nervous as she is. It's the first time his little girl is going to be on her own, really on her own.

"I've got my first recital next week," she says as she gives her father a tour of the dorm. "I'll send you a copy of it."

"You better," says Jim loud enough to be heard.

Joanna lets out a little laugh, the one that melts Leonard's heart. "Hey, Uncle Jim," she greets with a sly smile, one that she somehow managed to inherit from Jim. "How's life on a floating tin can? Is dad doing okay?" she asks like Leonard's not the one holding the PADD.

"As grumpy as ever," enthuses Jim.

"Those poor junior officers," jokes Joanna."

Leonard rolls his eyes. He's not sure exactly when Jim and Joanna became thick as thieves but he's grateful. He'd rather see Jim rub off on her a little than see her with her mother's arrogant disposition or his cantankerous one. "Yeah, yeah you two."

"You'll keep him safe?" she asks, suddenly serious.

"Always," promises Jim, solemnly.

She lights up with that. "Skylar's made dinner reservations for us, so I have to go. Happy birthday, daddy."

"Have fun baby. We'll talk to you later," bids Leonard, kissing his fingertips and pressing them against the screen before the signal ends.

"He's a nice boy," says Jim, looking infatuated at his dessert. He knows Leonard's not thrilled that his little girl has a boyfriend or the fact that she isn't so little anymore.

"We'll see," grumbles Leonard. It's not even that he doesn't like Skylar; had they met under different circumstances he would be a delightful young man. However, the delightful young man has set eyes on his daughter and Leonard's not so sure there's anyone good enough.

"I can see them getting married."

"She's too young," lectures Leonard, pointing his fork at Jim to emphasise the point. She's barely eighteen with school and life ahead of her. There's no need to settle down yet.

"I don't know, how old were you when you got married?" points out Jim.

"And look how that turned out," protests Leonard. He was young and dumb and thought he had it all figured out. It was he and Jocelyn against the world and in the end it turned out to just be him against Jocelyn.

"You got a pretty good kid out of that deal. And that train wreck put you in my path," says Jim as he gets out of his chair and walks over to Leonard. He slides into Leonard's lap, swiping his finger through the bowl of whipped cream. "So I guess the wicked witch wasn't all bad," he says as he slips his finger between Leonard's lips.

Leonard laps the cream off Jim's finger. He places a gentle kiss on the back of Jim's hand before turning it over and placing another one over the palm. "You need to work on your game if you think talking about my ex-wife is good foreplay."

Jim cringes. "Such lack of faith, and on your birthday no less," he chides. "My game is on point, Dr McCoy."

"Prove it," challenges Leonard, wrapping his arms around Jim's lower back.

Jim leans in so close Leonard can just feel Jim's jaw brush his skin as Jim whispers, "See this whipped cream here?" Leonard nods as Jim takes another swipe and licks it off his own finger. "There's more in the living room where I'm going to lick it off of you as we lie on the blankets I've set up on the living room floor in front of the window. And then I'm going to make love to you under the stars."

Leonard goes pliant as Jim's deft fingers work their way under the hem of his uniform shirt and slowly peel it up and over Leonard's head. He watches appreciatively as Jim slides off his lap, with his shirt in hand and saunters towards the living room bidding Leonard to follow.

Leonard has to concede, Jim's game might be pretty on point.

Jim's not sure how it becomes a regular thing but it does. He doesn't tell Leonard that every week he meets Chekov in the gym before most of the crew has even thought about getting up for alpha shift and teaches him how to perfect all the moves someone in self-defence class had once rushed the kid through. Leonard would just insist on being there to make sure Jim doesn't hurt himself and have a series of mini strokes every time he thought Jim took a hit. Assuming he would let Jim do it at all. He knows his husband's already quietly fretting how well Jim can manage his expectations over the whole course plotting charts the Captain has agreed to look at. Telling him he's wrestling would put Leonard over the edge.

It's a lie of omission that's all; hardly the worst thing Jim has ever done. If Leonard asked him point blank if he was teaching combat to Chekov, Jim would tell him. Leonard never asks that particular question.

Jim likes Chekov. The kid never asks any questions that don't pertain to what they're doing and he doesn't look at Jim like some former shadow of himself. Not to mention the kid's held a navigation position on the bridge of the flag ship since seventeen and is something of a child genius. Jim can relate to that.

They started with Jim just showing Chekov some moves and how to correct his form and slowly moved into actual practice matches. Jim can even go for ten minutes straight now without needing to sit down. And if his leg or shoulder prove to be too much of an issue he can butter Christine up for some extra pain killers when he knows Leonard's stepped out of sickbay for lunch.

"Let's see what you remember from last time," says Jim, wrapping his hands in protective wrap and stepping onto the mat.

Chekov eagerly joins in the center and waits for the Jim to say start. It's not a gladiator fight so most things are done at half speed but he still has to be on his toes. He doubts Jim's shown him a tenth of the moves and counter moves the man knows.

They're working on escapes, what to do when the enemy has you in a hold. Chekov's small and wiry, which works to his advantage. He manages to free himself from Jim's choke hold, knocking Jim on his ass in the process. There's a mat on the floor but the fall stuns him for a moment.

"Sorry! Are you alright?" asks Chekov, looking apologetic and terrified in turn. He extends his hand to help Jim back up. The last thing he wants to do is make any of Jim's injuries worse.

Jim shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says. "Let's see if you can counter that move when someone tries it on you." Something feels off. His skin is crawling and his focus is wavering. Jim takes Chekov's former position and the kid wraps his arm around Jim's neck.

Jim reaches up to pull on Chekov's arm but it's not Chekov, it's Ayel. Jim can feel the arm squeezing tighter, cutting off the flow of air his starving lungs are desperately craving.

Hot acidic breath slithers down his jaw line as Ayel whispers in his ear, "When I'm finished with you, I'm going to put your doctor on a leash and beat him like the disobedient dog he is until he licks your blood off my boots."

Their captors have already killed most of the crew for the sheer pleasure of it. He's not going to let this monster hurt Bones any more than he already has. Jim rams his elbow hard into Ayel's stomach causing him to double over. With the arm no longer around his neck, Jim turns quickly driving a hard blow to the Romulan's head. Over and over again, he punches at any opening he can find driving them both back until Ayel is pressed against the wall. There's a certain satisfaction that comes from wrapping his own hands around Ayel's neck and squeezing the life out of him.

"Please, stop," chokes out Ayel as he frantically claws at Jim's hands and arms.

It's too late to beg. It didn't do the crew any good. It didn't do Leonard any good when he begged for them to spare the First Officer's life.

"Jim, please."

The second Jim realizes it's not Ayel, rather Chekov he's trying to kill, is the same second a large hand comes down hard on Jim's shoulder, yanking him back violently to allow enough room for a tight fist to soar in and clock him square in the nose. He folds to the ground with a sickening crack as blood sprays down his face.

"Chekov, can you hear me?" calls Commander Roberts frantically as the kid collapses to the ground wheezing hard and still not getting enough air despite Jim no longer choking him.

Roberts whips out his communicator. "This is Roberts, I need security to gymnasium four on the double and tell sickbay I'm coming in with an emergency." Roberts throws Chekov over his shoulder and runs out the door just as two large enforcers from security enter the gym.

Jim rolls over onto his back. Warm blood pours out of his probably broken nose, running down his face and pooling on the mat. He hurt Chekov and worse he's going to have to explain this one to Leonard and then beg Chekov's forgiveness.

Normally Leonard wouldn't be in sickbay this early but since Jim's usually off in astrometrics well into late morning on this day he agreed to let Donnavon off early. Serves him right for being nice. Now he has an emergency call to deal with. Leonard grabs his scanner just as Roberts comes running through the door.

"What happened?" demands Leonard, taking a look at Chekov.

"I don't know. I walked into the gym and he was being attacked," states Roberts, laying the ensign down on the nearest biobed.

Leonard starts running scans and injecting hypos. "His throat's swelling shut. I can counter act that. Just take slow deep breaths Chekov." Leonard breathes with him, demonstrating a slow and steady breathing pattern for Chekov to follow. The medication takes a few seconds before he's breathing better with only a slight wheezing sound.

"What idiot attacks someone on a starship?" asks Leonard. Judging by Roberts's look, he's not going to like the answer.

'Captain Pike of the USS Enterprise to Starfleet Command. We found the castaway on Delta Vega. You're not going to believe this.'

Chekov fidgets as he sits on the biobed enduring one last scan by McCoy. He's still not sure what happened but it all feels like a big fuss when he's going to be fine. Worse McCoy looks like someone kicked him and Chekov can't help but feel like maybe it's his fault.

"He shouldn't have done this," says Leonard, like it's his fault the day all went to hell. "He shouldn't have been training you to start with. You're completely in your right to file a complaint," insists McCoy because even if Chekov doesn't know better, god damn it, Jim does.

Chekov shakes his head frantically. "No. It's fine." He's nervous because now probably isn't the best time to ask, but he has to know. "Could Jim please meet me again next week for practice?" They have a great thing going on, it would be a shame to lose it over one mistake.

McCoy gives him an assessing gaze. "We're obviously going to have to do a brain scan."

"Please?" Jim's the first person to really give him any attention in regard to teaching. Most people just assume that Chekov will figure things out because he's smart. Sometimes he still needs guidance.

"We'll see," grumbles Leonard. He's pissed that this happened, that Jim was ever in a position that this could happen and worse someone like Chekov was along for the ride. Then there's the little fact that Jim's been lying to him once a week for who knows how long? If Spock doesn't kill Jim or lock him up and throw away the key, Leonard just might. Still he can't help feel that this dangerous, idiotic, fight club has been doing Jim some good.

Jim's stuck using the sleeve of his shirt to try and stem the bleeding as he waits in the brig for someone from sickbay to show up. He prays to god it's not Leonard. Security seems un-inclined to tell him if Chekov is alright or not. So he sits and waits, enjoying the throbbing pain taking over his face in some morose punishment for letting his grip on reality slip.

It's Leonard who walks into the brig, medkit in hand, because Jim's day couldn't possibly get worse. He looks pissed and Jim wonders if maybe the force-field locking him in here is for his protection not his confinement.

Leonard nods to the security guard who immediately drops the force-field. Jim sits up straighter on the hard metal bench leaving room for Leonard to sit down if he doesn't plan on murdering Jim first.

"Just tell me Chekov is going to be okay," pleads Jim, like the dying wish of a man on death row.

Leonard runs his scanner over Jim. "He's going to be fine," he snaps. The scanner beeps and he looks at the readings. "Your nose is broken," he reports reaching into his kit and grabbing a hypo to stab in Jim's neck.

Jim breathes a sigh of relief as the hypo takes the edge off. Leonard always has the best drugs.

"This is going to hurt," warns Leonard as he puts Jim's nose back in place before running an osteo-regenerator over his nose.

"Ow! You enjoyed that," says Jim, aiming for some kind of levity.

"What the hell were you thinking?" snaps Leonard. "You could have killed him!"

"I wasn't thinking. That's the problem. One minute we were sparring and then next... All I could see was Ayel. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else."

"Yeah, see that part I get. That's not what I'm talking about, Jim. What were you doing sparring in the first place? Not only could something like this happen but you could seriously hurt yourself."

"I know you'd feel better if I lived in a bubble but I need to live some kind of life, Bones," complains Jim.

"This isn't about living in a bubble. This is about incurring needless risks." Jim might think this is what rock bottom looks like but Leonard is cursed with the medical knowledge of all the ways Jim's life could get worse.

"What's going to happen? I'm going to get a bum leg? A shoulder that likes to dislocate with the minimalist of pressure? The worst has happened, I've already lost everything I was working for. Might as well have a little fun before I die," protests Jim even if Leonard's probably his only ally.

It's not that Leonard doesn't want Jim to do the things that make him happy or that he thinks Jim can't do them. He knows beyond a doubt Jim can do anything he puts his mind to. It's watching hope die in Jim's eyes time and time again when he inevitably believes he can get everything he had back and finds out once again that no, there are certain limitations he can't overcome. Leonard's good but there will eventually come a time when even he can't put Jim's pieces back together again. "Jim."

"I know. It's just... He wasn't asking me to help him because he felt sorry for me. He wasn't trying to make Jim Kirk feel useful. For one hour I was just Jim, a guy that was able to help. And it meant something. Until it all went to hell like usual." Jim crosses his arms, looking sullen and defeated. Sometimes his worst enemy isn't the messed up leg, or the emotional and mental instability that are equal parts PTSD and a parting gift from Nero's little torture slug, it's his need to see himself as he was.

Leonard contemplates the wisdom in what he's about to say. Maybe it's time to stop worrying about the fallout and just enjoy the ride. He gently bumps his shoulder against Jim's. "Despite everything, the kid still wants to meet you in the gym next week for another session. Obviously he's not as bright as everyone makes him out to be."

"Bones?" There's a hesitant smile threatening to make an appearance.

God damn it, doesn't Leonard just feel like he's the parent standing in the way of a kid getting a puppy. "Ground rules, Jim," warns Leonard.

"Absolutely, anything you want," assures Jim, raising his hand in solemn promise.

"No more than twenty minutes and you come to medical right after for a scan of your leg. I want to be on top of any damage you might be enduring. You two are never alone. I don't care who you get as a third but someone will be there to keep things like this from happening again."

"You got it."

Leonard has no idea how he's going to sell any of this to the Captain or smooth things over with the First Officer.