"You do good work, Leonard," praises the head of Starfleet Medical Research. "Just say the word and I can get you on board any team in the galaxy. They're doing some fascinating work on Capri Seven that you would be perfect for."
"Thank you, sir," replies Leonard with a tight smile. "I'm happy where I am. I'm just glad I could help."
Dr Philt looks doubtful. A simple surgical residency out of Vancouver is hardly the fulfilling position someone with Leonard's skill needs. "Can I at least talk you into speaking at the medical conference on Ramda Three next month? You can bring your husband if you like."
Leonard lets out a long breath before fiddling with the things on his desk. Jim will barely leave the apartment these days for any place other than a seedy bar. He can't picture Jim boarding a ship to go to a medical conference with him. "I don't think Jim would be up for such a long trip," apologises Leonard. It's become an all too familiar song and he knows the words by heart.
Not to be deterred, Philt continues, "You'd be a key note speaker. I can have you in and out within a day. If necessary, you can take the day and we can do it via video conference."
"I'll think about it," promises Leonard and he almost believes the lie himself this time. Philt must believe it because he signs off of the video conference. Leonard can barely make it into the office any more. Spending a whole day lecturing is simply an impossibility.
"Why don't you go to the conference?" demands Jim, darkly from Leonard's office door.
Leonard glances up from his desk. He doesn't know how long Jim's been standing there; he thought Jim was still taking a nap. "I have work at the hospital to catch up on," he says, grabbing a report out of his desk drawer. He's not in the mood for this today; he's tired, worn and frustrated. A frayed rope can't hold the weight of this relationship forever. He can smell the alcohol on Jim's breath from across the room.
"Maybe you wouldn't have to catch up all the time if you went to work," seethes Jim.
Leonard's shoulders drop. He's tired of the tight rope walk. If he goes to work, he barely gets in the door before Jim is calling with a meltdown. If he stays, he ends up the source of Jim's frustration. He can't win and he doesn't know how many more rounds he has in himself before he takes a knockout. "Did you take your meds?"
Jim snorts. He ambles in and grabs the PADD off Leonard's desk with the conference details. This isn't about him, it's about Leonard wasting his life babysitting a lost cause.
Leonard feels a headache coming. "You have to take your meds, Jim."
"Maybe I don't want to."
"We've talked about this. You know the rules." Leonard feels like a parrot that only knows a handful of words.
Jim slams the PADD down on the desk so hard, it cracks. "I'm not your god damn child!" he yells, because he's so sick of being told what he can and can't do all the time. He's never going to be a captain again so why endure all the damn side effects of drugs that help him try and cope when he has nothing to cope for. He certainly doesn't need Leonard to play nurse- it's a god damn waste of his talent and time.
"Then stop acting like it!" counters Leonard. He can't be the only one trying to keep things together here.
"Go to the conference, Leonard," says Jim, tight and quiet. "Take the research job. Hell, take any of these jobs." Jim knocks the pile of PADDs so they fall across Leonard's desk. It's an impressive amount of offers over the last few months, since the medical community found out Leonard was a free agent. Instead of a symbol of opportunity created by great skill, it's a monument to a life not being lived.
"I can't," growls Leonard.
"Why?" presses Jim. He wants to hear Leonard say it.
"You know why." Leonard really doesn't want to say it. "What more do you want?" demands Leonard, because he's not the one that spends all night at the bar only to come staggering home after sunrise to sleep all day. Every move or lack thereof, Leonard has made, has been for Jim and what's going to work for him. He doesn't regret it but he can't take being resented for it either.
"I need something different. Someone different." The words feel dirty in Jim's mouth.
"Oh, is that what this is? You have some wild oats you feel the need to sow? An itch you need to scratch? Well don't let me stand in the way of the might James T Kirk." Trust Jim to resort to whoring around to avoid dealing with his emotions.
"Maybe I do want to scratch. Maybe I already have." The words go down like razors. He hasn't cheated, yet, but it's been close. Jim's long learned his self respect is rather waning, but he couldn't do that to Leonard. Still, his alcohol clouded decisions are coming pretty close to waking up next to someone who's name is decidedly not his husbands. Leonard needs to leave before Jim burns his life down around himself; Jim's not looking for other casualties. "How long did you think this was going to last anyways?"
Honestly, Leonard feared it would never get off the Enterprise. He spent the whole first year of their marriage waking up every morning wondering if today was the day Jim would tell him it was all a joke, some ploy to make sure they didn't give up; that the cold light of day exposes too much of why Jim could never be his. He thought Jim might walk right out of that hospital and leave him standing there with nothing but the memories and a cold realization that he's not worth hanging on to.
Leonard suddenly feels very small. "I meant it when I said till death."
"That's not me. I can't save you anymore, Leonard. I have nothing more to give." He's broken, beyond more than just a bum leg, shoulder and brain. What Leonard needs, Jim's never going to be able to give him. Jim's just tired of being a disappointment- to himself, to the Federation, to Leonard. He can't bear to have Leonard look at him with resentment, and he will; it's just a matter of time.
"I don't need you to save me."
"I can see why Jocelyn left you. Not only are you good at getting stagnant, but you're neediness is suffocating," says Jim, because he knows just where to stick the knives for maximum effect. He's fucking surgical at breaking hearts.
Leonard stands up with enough force that it sends the office chair rolling back into the wall with a thud. He's not interested in arguing with a drunk. "You can be a real asshole, you know that, Jim?" he huffs, storming out of the office.
Jim follows, hot on his heels. He's committed now. Leonard's a smart guy, maybe if he can just get Leonard to say it, something will snap in his head and he'll realize they don't have a future that's worth anything. "I need more, Leonard." And he does. He needs his life back. More importantly he needs Leonard to have more than this hollowed out existence Jim's created.
The room fills with a thick rotting silence. The whole fight is becoming too familiar, like muscle memory, all lines rehearsed to near perfection. It goes nowhere and gains nothing; just like them. Jim nods his head. Someone has to pull the chord on the parachute before they go splat on the ground. "I want a divorce." The words suck all the oxygen out of the room.
"Jim," protests Leonard. He can't be the only one that wants to fight for this. It can't have only meant something to him.
"I'm tired of being your excuse for not living. You hide behind me so you don't have to go back out there. I can't be the albatross around someone's neck, I won't. And I'm in no position to hold your hand anymore. I can't save you, Leonard. So I think it's time we stop kidding ourselves that this was anything more than some desperate near death cry for help." Really, the writing has always been on the walls. Kirks suck at family. They either burn out before their inevitable conclusion like their mother with Jim and Sam or they spontaneously combust like his father and mother.
"You don't mean that," says Leonard. His throat burns as he tries to utter the words calmly. They have something together, they always have.
"I do. We thought we were going to die. I just checked off a box. Now we need to move on and start our lives. I need to start my life. I can't do that with you around." Jim impresses himself with how convincing the lie is; he practically believes it. This is the final stand of Jim Kirk, the last act of a disgraced captain- to stand there and watch his lover's heart break in more pieces than can every be found.
Leonard wants to puke. He's watched his whole life unravel before; watched Jocelyn take their daughter and leave like Leonard was nothing more than a speed bump in their lives. Jim has that same look in his eyes Jocelyn did when she decided Leonard wasn't worth the trouble anymore. "We can talk about this."
"You should spend the night at a hotel. You can come get your things in the morning."
Jim turns to leave but Leonard reaches out and grabs his wrist. He just needs to hold on to Jim. As long as they're together they can work this out, they can survive anything. Jim just yanks his hand free, storming off to the bedroom.
Leonard sits there numbly in the ruins of his life. Long after the room's gone dark, he grabs a change of clothes and leaves the apartment. He doesn't sleep. Just sits on the balcony of his hotel room and watches the stars until they fade away and the sun burns away what was left of Leonard's life.
He waits until ten am, before heads home. Maybe Jim will be more amendable to talking if he hasn't already come to the same conclusion Leonard has- they belong together.
The apartment is empty. In the living room is a suitcase packed full of Leonard's belongings and a copy of a petition for legal separation for Leonard to sign. Jim's already signed it. Leonard wishes it was that easy for him. Clearly Jim's been thinking about this for a long time if he already has the paper work filled out.
Because Leonard can deny Jim nothing, he signs it. Maybe Jim will be able to move on with his life if Leonard isn't the living embodiment of the worst experience of their lives.
Another notch on Kirk's head board. He takes his wedding ring off, turning it over between his fingers. The thing is, Leonard can't bring himself to regret saying yes. Even knowing it ends up here. He places the ring on his last finger because even if Jim won't have him anymore, Leonard will always be Jim's. Leonard grabs his bag filled with a few sentimental belongings. He's getting really good at picking up the pieces of his shattered life.
Spock studiously ponders his next move. He can achieve checkmate in three moves but that's not the point to this game. There's also the element of undefined chaos that Jim brings to the game that makes inevitable victory uncertain. It keeps the game fresh and unpredictable when Spock's carefully crafted and thought out plays can be so easily derailed by one unexpected, illogical and random move by Jim. He's not certain if there's a hidden genius in Jim's game or if he's simply so allergic to logic, that he's bound to "luck out" in his madness.
Either way, they've only been playing for fifteen minutes today and Jim already seems fidgety and agitated. Spock moves his knight to the second level.
Jim frowns, biting his lip before hastily moving his bishop down to the third level, and then changing his mind.
"Have you been to see Dr McCoy today?" asks Spock.
"No. Leonard says I can only visit when Christine is on shift." It may or may not have something to do with an incident involving medical not having enough time to supervise Jim, an open cabinet full of gauze wraps and a mummy impersonation. It's hard to tell with these things. "She's off today."
Jim doesn't really do all that great with seeing Leonard being helpless. It wears on him and explodes in messy burnouts. Leonard's gotten pretty proficient in making sure Jim doesn't see his injuries. Looks like Jim wasn't the only one that learned a thing or two during their captivity.
"Bones said he'd be out tomorrow anyways. I can wait until then," says Jim but the constant bouncing of his knee precludes otherwise. "There, deal with that," he declares, moving his queen.
It's a bold move, setting Spock's inevitable win back by three moves. "You're sacrificing your queen instead?"
Jim shrugs his shoulders. "I can make another one later."
"Does Dr M'Benga agree with Dr McCoy's assessment?" queries Spock. He knows full well the latest medical report fails to support such a claim.
"That's for them to fight out. My money's on Bones though. Doctors make the worst patients. I can use the rest of today to tidy up the place."
Spock glances around the room. It seems like an insurmountable task. "Do you require assistance?"
Jim looks put out, like Spock just offered him Gagh. "I'm sure the captain has more important things to do than clean quarters." The thought of someone touching his stuff makes Jim's skin crawl and his stomach turn. It's one thing to have Leonard obsessively move and clean things, half of it's his stuff anyways, but it's another to have a stranger rummage through and fondle his belongings. He barely tolerated Uhura touching their stuff. Ayel used to go through their meagre belongings searching for weapons, communication devices and food. Jim won't submit to that kind of violation again.
"I have nothing that cannot wait until later," assures Spock. The chess games started as a well meaning attempt to distract and help pass the time and keep Jim from spiralling but Spock has to admit, he's rather enjoying them. Jim is the most challenging opponent he's had in awhile, and the conversations are interesting to say the least.
"No!" blurts Jim, "I've got it under control." He doesn't. The place looks like a bomb went off; the victim of his constant and unending episodes of fear, frustration and rage. If he can't get the place organized and back in order, how the hell is he going to look after Leonard when he comes home? Calmer, he adds, "It's fine. I'm all over it."
Jim's next move isn't very productive and Spock is two moves from checkmate. It's clear his focus has wavered from the game.
"So, you and Uhura used to have sex," says Jim, keeping his eyes on the chessboard like they're talking about the weather. Spock chokes, turning an interesting shade of green. Jim takes the game in seven moves. Jim's not the only one that can be distracted apparently.
"Okay, easy does it," sooths Jim as he holds tight to the arm Leonard has slung over his shoulder. They make quite the pair, moving at a snail's pace with Jim's hobbled leg and Leonard's sore aching side, but they manage to get Leonard to the bedroom and deposited in bed.
Leonard rolls his eyes as Jim fusses with the pillows and blankets in the most unhelpful but clearly caring manner. He's out of sickbay and on bed rest for two days, all this tending in unnecessary. He's going to be fine.
"I loaded a copy of the latest novel by that author you like; the one that writes all those medical mysteries. And I got you a glass of iced tea and cookies on the nightstand," says Jim. "If you need something else I can get it for you."
There's only one thing he needs to feel like he's whole again. Leonard takes Jim's hand and pulls him into bed. "Come here."
Jim falls into bed, burrowing into Leonard's side but careful not to jostle his husband. He lays his head gently on Leonard's chest, letting Leonard run his fingers through his hair and as Jim listens to the steady and reassuring beating of Leonard's heart.
"I just need you," assures Leonard. Jim's the only thing he needs to get through anything.
Jim's hand slips up Leonard's abdomen, sliding easily underneath Leonard's shirt to stroke at the still bright pink skin that now covers what were impressive trenches.
"They'll be gone in a couple days too," promises Leonard as Jim's fingers tickle the disappearing scars. All traces of the incident will fade from his body faster than the memories will.
Jim continues to stroke the skin there chasing away the dull ache that's been constant in Leonard's chest. "I'll always feel them there."
Leonard shoots up gasping for breath. His chest feels like it's on fire and for a moment the darkness makes him believe he's face down in that dark brown sand. He's not. Jim's soft snores as he hogs the blankets beside him are a dead giveaway that he's safe on the Enterprise. It was just a nightmare. Mercifully, he managed not to wake Jim up. The last thing he needs is to do is frighten Jim.
Leonard lies there, staring at the ceiling as his heart slows back to a normal rate. The nightmare was some horrible mash up; that monster lurking in the sand except when it attacked it wasn't a starving creature but Nero. Nero's always the monster haunting Leonard's dreams; it's been awhile though.
It used to be constant, every single damn time Leonard closed his eyes. Then it faded to month long stretches with a week respite between them. By the time they left San Francisco, Leonard was down to having one nightmare every six weeks. Stress makes them more frequent and he was pretty much back to square one after Jim handled their divorce his own way. Before they left the farm, Leonard was down to two nightmares a year.
He lies there, trying to forget last week. He survived. That's all he needs to focus on. That and Jim's still in one piece despite everything. They got lucky. He just needs to remember that before he closes his eyes and the nightmares sweep in.
He really can't afford to start them again. Going to teach class exhausted is one thing, trying to run medical on no sleep is another. He's not sure he has the energy to try and pretend things are alright in front of Jim right now. And he needs to keep it together, because he has a feeling the glue holding Jim together is about to dissolve. They can only afford for one of them can be a mess at a time and Leonard used his turn in a gory and bloody show on that planet. He needs to get this nightmare thing back under control.
There's a lot of horribleness in the world right now. Hopefully this can take your minds off of it for a few minutes.
I just want to remind everyone to stay safe out there, protect yourselves and help protect all those who's jobs still have to continue to keep people going from doctor and nurses to truck drivers and railway workers, grocery store workers and janitors and everyone else.
Thank you for reading.