Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.
Warnings: language and violence.
Reviews are always welcome and appreciated
(Though it's Cold and Lonely in the Deep Dark Night) I Can See Paradise by the Console Light
Jim's humming again. He's been doing it a lot lately Leonard's noticed. Only when they're alone and Jim's lost in some mindless activity and always the same melody. Leonard's heard it somewhere before, but he's not so familiar with it he can actually put a name or words to it. Jim's not usually a hummer though. It's kind of infuriating right now given the state Leonard's in. "You're just going to sit there humming?" snaps Leonard exacerbated as he looks under one of the couch cushions again.
"Am I?" asks Jim. Leonard's caught him mid note. He didn't realize he'd been doing it, but the song's been stuck in his head for awhile so it makes sense. "I can stop if it's bothering you," he offers.
"No," Leonard insists. "That's not what's bothering me. It's actually kind of nice." It's once in a blue moon that Jim feels relaxed and comfortable enough to let his guard down like this. It's nothing against Leonard, more a sad truth to the complexities of Jim's condition that keeps moments like this from being the norm. But it would be nice if Jim got off his ass to help. "What is it?" He picks up the pile of PADDs Jim's left on the table for fifth time and still his ring hasn't appeared.
"Hmmm?" hums Jim, already lost in whatever he's doing on his PADD. "What's what?"
Leonard rolls his eyes. "The song."
Jim furrows his brow but doesn't look up. "What song?"
"The Song. The one that you're humming. What's the song?" clarifies Leonard throwing his hands in the air as he surveys their quarters with a glare, like the place is intentionally keeping his possession from him.
"Oh," replies Jim, finally giving Leonard his attention. "Some classical song that was loaded into the player in my dad's garage. I guess he used to listen to it when he was working on his bikes or classic car. I used to sneak out there at night and lie in the front seat and listen to his song list."
"That's nice," says Leonard frantically attacking the cupboards in the kitchen.
"What are you looking for?" demands Jim. Leonard's been a tornado of frantic energy all day.
"My ring. I can't find my damn ring!" He's only been in a fit about it for the last two days.
"Still?" ask Jim a little surprised.
"Yes, still! I never take it off and now it's gone," he snarls. He can't lose it, it's irreplaceable. Jim gave him that ring. Sure when they said I do, they didn't exchange rings but Jim was bleeding to death in the back of a shuttle as they escaped from the Narada. Jim had gotten it after. Leonard doesn't know how Jim pulled it off but the first time he watched Jim walk across the room on his own, Jim had walked over to the side table in his hospital room and pulled it out.
It fit perfectly then. They were both still underweight from captivity and by the end of the year it was rather snug on Leonard's ring finger. When Jim petitioned for a divorce, Leonard couldn't bear to part with it. Jim may have fallen out of love but Leonard hadn't, so he moved the ring over to his pinkie finger. It honoured Jim's request but kept Jim close to Leonard's heart and it fit better on that finger. Except maybe not, because he woke up two days ago and it was gone. At first he thought it had gotten lost in the tangled bed sheets after an enthusiastic night of passion with Jim, but he's torn the bedroom apart four times now. He even ran a tricorder over Jim to make sure the idiot didn't swallow it when he was sucking chocolate sauce off Leonard's fingers that night.
"You need to relax. I'm the manic one remember? It's not a good look on you," cautions Jim with a bemused smile. "Maybe you left it in a patient when you operated on them?"
Leonard grabs a pair of socks Jim's left lying on the counter and tosses them at Jim's head. This isn't a joke to him. That ring means something. It's a part of him.
"It's around here somewhere. It's very unlikely it grew legs and walked away," says Jim casually as his attention falls back to his PADD. "It will turn up," he adds sincerely.
"You sure?" asks Leonard flopping dramatically on the couch and gently pulling on Jim's arm so he leans into Leonard on the couch. He pulls the PADD out of Jim's hands and set it down on the table.
Jim laces his fingers with Leonard's. "It will be back where it belongs eventually. You're too stubborn to let it be lost." Jim lets his head lull against Leonard's chest, listening to the steady and reassuring beat of his heart.
"I feel naked without it," confesses Leonard.
"That's something I can get behind," hums Jim into Leonard's chest. "Clear your calendar for the next few days, I'm going to make sure you're too busy to remember you're missing your ring."
Leonard hums appreciatively as Jim's hand works its way up Leonard's thigh, gently caressing his skin through his pants in search of an entrance to actual skin. A few days off would be fantastic and he is due for a holiday, but… "I have that conference to attend, remember?"
"Oh, right," says Jim with a pout. "Thwarted again."
"No parties," says Leonard, sternly. He doesn't need a lecture from his Captain about providing adult supervision for Jim when he gets back.
"Parties?" scoffs Jim, "I'm not some teen whose parents are going away for the weekend." Except he kind of is. Scotty and he have been brewing a batch of homemade liquor in the back recesses of the engine room for just such an occasion. And Chekov had been moping lately of his lack of courage to make a move on some nurse.
"No parties," reiterates Leonard. "Don't make me have Chekov babysit."
"Chekov? You do understand that the babysitter is supposed to be older than the kids?"
"Yeah, but he's the only one I'd trust out of you lot to not be swinging from the chandeliers by the time I hit the shuttle."
Jim holds up his left hand and looks Leonard squarely in the eyes. "I swear, I will not throw a party on the Enterprise while you are scheduled to be at the conference," he says solemnly.
"Umm-hum." Leonard has a bad feeling about taking M'Benga's place at the conference. M'Benga had cancelled last minute for the Vulcan medial conference and while normally it would mean M'Benga would present his research paper another time, Spock had been rather insistent that Leonard do the presentation on M'Benga's behalf and represent the Enterprise at the conference. Technically, Leonard can blame them for anything that happens while he's away.
Leonard swings the strap of his bag over his shoulder and heads out the door. He dragged out packing in the hopes that Jim would surface from wherever he disappeared to in the middle of the night but no such luck. He hopes Jim isn't off pouting somewhere or worse plotting something.
"So you're off?" asks Uhura, running into him in the corridor. She falls into step with him.
Leonard hefts his bag in response. "A week among Vulcans, I can't imagine a worse scenario."
A faint smile caresses her face. She could imagine far worse things. "Where's Jim?"
Leonard looks over his shoulder for any sign that his husband remembered he's scheduled to leave now. He hates shuttles and he hates leaving Jim. It would be nice to have a kiss and a proper send off, but he understands Jim deals with things in his own way. "Off sulkin' or executing a hostile takeover. Maybe both."
"Should we be worried?"
Leonard lets out a long drawn breath. "Probably. You'll keep an eye on him?" he asks hopefully.
"I can get Spock to assign an armed security detail to follow him around," she responds playfully.
"That might not be enough." He tries to tell himself that it's more anxiety based on being on a shuttle with some junior officer for a pilot followed by a planet full of Spocks and less worry about leaving his husband, a grown assed man, alone to his own devices. He rubs his thumb over the exposed skin of his pinkie finger. This week isn't shaping up to be the best. "What are the odds of using your good graces with the Captain to get him to spare a real pilot for this circus? Sulu or Chekov, I'm not picky."
"Still afraid to fly? You live on a Starship."
"That Starship is piloted by marginally competent people and only slightly less likely to experience catastrophic failure," he cautions. He'd been managing his fear pretty well but the more he thinks about this trip to more his fear and anxiety seem to rage out of control.
"You think we're competent and not going to die? I'll let everyone know. They'll be thrilled that our CMO is warming up to us." At face value it's not the highest compliment in the land but coming from Leonard, they must have a good thing going on here.
"I said marginally competent. I wouldn't want those two getting big heads and crash us into something. And we still can get wiped out by special anomalies, aggressive aliens and undiscovered plagues."
It's not the first time she's heard this rant, though after all these years she'd thought he might have outgrown his fear. "We're here," she says as they approach the shuttle bay doors.
The shuttle bay is full of red shirts scrambling around like ants, preparing for the departure of the shuttle Chandler. "I don't see why the Enterprise can't drop me off," grumbles Leonard navigating his way through the flight crew and the clutter of equipment and parts on the floor to get to the shuttle. The graveyard of parts doesn't exactly inspire confidence.
"Spock's responsible for picking up that special ambassador from Talis Five. But we will be back in four days to meet up with you. You just have to take the shuttle there," assures Uhura.
"Assuming it makes it there," grumbles Leonard, stepping over a piece he knows belongs in a shuttle and not on the floor.
"She'll make it there," assures Scotty with pride as he closes the repair hatch and wipes his wrench off.
Leonard wishes he shared Scotty's confidence. There's a look of love on Scotty's face, that Leonard would have for his daughter; he hopes it's not misplaced by Scotty on this shuttle.
"Bones!" cries Jim cheerfully as he pokes his head out of the shuttle. "You're late. We better get a move on if we're going to make up the time," he adds taking Leonard's bag and stepping back into the shuttle.
"We're?" stammers Leonard as his brain stutters. That's only the first problem with that statement. He's hardly late, but more importantly, Jim thinks he's invited.
"Yeah, I'm coming. Someone has to peel you off the shuttle floor when we get there," Jim calls over his shoulder as he stows Leonard's bag.
Uhura and Scotty seem unfazed by this turn of events. Leonard looks around for the pilot. Hopefully someone can shed some reason on the situation. "Where's ensign… what's his damn name."
"That's the best part," says Jim returning to the shuttle door a little too enthusiastic for Leonard's liking, "I'm going to be your pilot."
Uhura tries to hide her snicker. Leonard's head snaps around to glare at her anyways.
"Relax, Bones. I cleared it with the Captain first," assures Jim. "You look like you're terrified to spend the week with me."
"You did?" He's not opposed to the idea of getting some quality time in with Jim, hell it could be the one redeeming point of this trip, but he doesn't need to get accused of taking a stowaway with him if Jim's bullshitting to get his way.
A smug look crosses Jim's face. "Yes. In case you forgot, the captain kind of owes me." He grabs Leonard by the arm and drags him onto the shuttle.
"Good luck with the space pirates and incurable plagues," bids Uhura. "We wouldn't be that sad if you left Jim somewhere," she shouts to Leonard as he steps inside the shuttle.
"I didn't forget. No one will ever forget," says Leonard rolling his eyes and dragging his feet as Jim pulls him along and shoves him in a seat. "You won't let anyone forget. Just how long are you going to exploit your heroism for anyways?" He can't imagine Spock will indulge Jim's ridiculous and often inane requests for much longer. And Jim gets a little ornery when he doesn't get his way.
"Until he escorts me off the ship in handcuffs," replies Jim, flopping into the seat beside Leonard to plot their flight path. It's kind of a hollow joke that doesn't seem to lighten Leonard's mood any. "Just hold that thought," he adds, bounding out his seat to grab a medium sizes box out of the cargo hold of the shuttle and run to catch up to Uhura.
"I almost forgot," he says, handing the package off to Uhura. "As promised. You have no idea what I had to do to get it. I feel kind of cheap now," he says suggestively.
"I don't want to hear about you sexual exploits, Kirk," says Uhura, with her most unimpressed glare. Those are the last images she needs running through her mind.
"That's a shame, I'm dying to hear some of yours," he says with a smirk until she slaps him in the back of the head.
"Leave Spock alone," she warns, taking the box with her. She's tired of trying to explain Jim's only being overly forward because it throws Spock. Not to mention Jim Kirk is the last person who should be discussing her relationship with Spock, even if in some weird way he is trying to help. She does not need his help for anything. Well maybe this one thing. She takes the box safely to her quarters before heading to the bridge for her shift.
Leonard still looks apprehensive, like Jim's going to fly the shuttle into a sun or something as he flops back in the pilot seat.
"What was that about?" asks Leonard. Uhura tolerates Jim, mostly for Leonard's benefit and because Jim can't help but burn any feelings of friendship she might have for Jim by Jim being… well full on Jim.
"I wanted to see if I could borrow her handcuffs for the weekend. She has those reinforced ones because of that Vulcan strength or whatever," deadpans Jim. "Did you really think you you'd have fun without me there?" he asks because he's actually kind of surprised Leonard didn't ask him to go in the first place. It shows real growth that Leonard was prepared to leave him unsupervised. Or maybe Jim is slouching in the sex department lately.
"You do realize it's a medical conference with a bunch of Vulcans. Do you think you're going to have fun there?" he cautions. This is work thing not a trip to Risa. It's long workshops with medical professionals rattling on about things only medical professionals can get remotely excited about. It's not something that's going to hold Jim's attention and Leonard can't just go run and play when Jim gets board.
"Are you trying to get away from me?" Jim feigns hurt.
God no. He can't imagine anything better than a weekend to worship every inch of Jim in some place tropical with room service. That's just not this trip. The apology for ever making Jim think he would want to spend a minute apart dies on his lips as Jim adds suggestively, "I can think of some things we can try that will inject some excitement into this conference."
Leonard frowns and crosses his arms. "We are not having public sex in front of all things, a room full of Vulcans," he snaps. Give the kid an inch and he's already gone four miles.
"Not with that attitude," he mutters, punching in the takeoff sequence. "They might be into it. They might learn something. It is a medical conference after all."
"Remove exhibitionism from your bucket list, Jim," says Leonard tiredly.
Jim laughs. "Crossed that one off the list over two decades ago."
The shuttle bay clears. Jim waits for the doors to open to the endless expanse of space and flies them out. Leonard takes one last look at the Enterprise. It's going to be a long week.
Leonard's breathe hisses out between clenched teeth. He's mentally counting down the minutes until they arrive at their destination. There's far too many. He's liable to sprain something before they even reach the half way point if he doesn't find a way to relax. Every bleep and blip of the replicator in the back just ratchets his tension up another degree. He's torn between wanting to strangle Jim for not taking this more seriously and envying his blissful ignorance and wanton disregard for the dangers of space travel. Mostly, he's just trying not to throw up.
"Thi in't half ad," Jim mangles around a mouthful of sandwich.
Leonard closes his eyes in a half hearted attempt to find his zen. "I don't speak whatever language that is," he says clipped. "Chew your food. You'd think you were raised in a barn or something."
"I was," replies Jim cheerfully. He grabs half the sandwich, leaving the other half and plate behind and flops down in the pilot's chair. "Are you sure you don't want one? I've actually got the computer to replicate the jam recipe almost exactly to your grandmother's recipe. It's pretty good." He waves the sandwich in Leonard's general direction for emphasis; crumbs and gobs of jam landing on the control console. The computer beeps and chirps as Jim wipes it off with his sleeve.
"Would you quit screwing around!" snaps Leonard. He can hear the computer's voice echoing in his head. 'Warning. Force field integrity is failing.'
"You know, you really have to work on your aviophobia of yours," says Jim, eyeing his husband sceptically. Leonard's white knuckling the arm rest of his seat and probably has since Jim got up to get lunch, leaving the shuttle in the very capable hands of the computer. "You did take several flight courses at the academy and passed." Leonard's never had a deep seeded love for space travel but his fear hasn't been this bad since before they graduated.
Leonard looks less then pleased and even more uncomfortable. "Yeah, I took some introductory classes into speaking Olebrainian too but I wouldn't say I couldn't start an international incident if I tried speaking it."
"It's fine, Bones," Jim laughs. They're in a state of the art shuttle in familiar space, it doesn't get much safer. "I know what I'm doing. Watch this," he proclaims, changing course.
The shuttle veers to the right, picking up speed. Leonard can feel his chest growing tighter as the objects in the view screen get bigger. He tries not to think about it. Jim is actually a rather skilled pilot; he takes to space flight like ducks do water. He should be fine but he can't seem to convince his body.
The shuttle swings back and forth artfully dodging the brightly colourful asteroids that make up the Ketleran Belt. The beautiful metallic rocks of various sizes pass by. The multicoloured and metallic sheen of the rocks reflect back the rays of the distant sun creating an aurora effect that is both heavenly and legendary. Leonard has a front row seat to something people come far and wide to catch a glimpse of and he can't unscrew his eyes to see it.
This is the perfect way to inject a little romance into this flight. Clearly Leonard needs some time to relax. Things have been a little hectic lately, but Jim didn't realize his husband was feeling this much pressure. Truth is, Jim's been rather distracted of late. He's going to make up for that now. A bottle of champagne would be a perfect touch. They can be a little late for their appointment; self care is important too.
Jim turns in his seat to use his awesome powers of persuasion to convince Leonard this is the perfect opportunity for some mind blowing sex under one of the most romantic space shows around. Instead of wide-eyed wonder or at least a shuttle tolerant Leonard, Jim's stomach drops. "I thought you had this under control?" asks Jim, all traces of humour disappearing. This is a little more than Leonard being cranky or overly tense. This is worse than Jim's ever seen it.
"I did!" snaps Leonard, starting to hyperventilate. The air feels so thick, it's like trying to suck solid mass through a straw. Tremors run through his hands but they don't outright shake because he's hanging on for dear life. It's not like Jim's a bad pilot. The flight's been as smooth as glass but just staring out at vast black backdrop of the universe leaves Leonard feeling like he's in free fall. "Almost getting jettisoned into space from the cargo bay a few months ago has convinced me otherwise."
Shit. The confession is a punch in the gut. Jim's been so busy riding the high of Leonard being alive and retaking the ship from Khan that he hasn't given much thought to the fallout. Leonard gets cranky, he bitches extra hard, he calls Jim an immature child an insane amount, and then he's over it. Leonard's always okay. Except now he's not. "Why didn't you tell me?" asks Jim. He's a mess of conflicting emotions; concern that his husband is struggling and hurt that he's been left out of what is clearly throwing Leonard's world into chaos. This information is rather important. Jim never would have done this if he knew this would be the reaction.
Leonard places a steadying hand on the edge of the console and shoots Jim an especially irritated glare. If he's been walking up every night in a cold sweat since it happened, that's entirely his business. And it's not like Jim's plate isn't excessively full. Worrying about Leonard being skittish about space and flying again shouldn't be Jim's burden. It will pass. Leonard will get a handle on it because there are more important things to worry about. It doesn't feel like it as he's gulping for air, but he will. "Haven't exactly been in a shuttle or cargo bay since."
"We could go back," offers Jim a little deflated. He didn't think it was possible for Leonard's glare to sharpen even more, but clearly Jim's been underestimating things for awhile now.
"Got a job to do," huffs Leonard. Time is coming to a standstill; the shuttle both too big and too small round him. "I'm a goddamn Starfleet officer." He's really gasping for breath now.
"Alright, alright," soothes Jim, jumping to his feet. He gets not wanting to fold under the pressure of wearing that uniform. He grabs Leonard's warm rigid hands and pulls him out of his seat to the floor. Leonard's not fighting Jim's direction but he's so tense he's not exactly cooperating either. It's like moving dead weight and almost too taxing for Jim's leg. He get's Leonard settled, sitting behind him on the floor and wrapping his arms around his husband. He can feel the stutter of Leonard's chest as he fights to keep breathing.
"Let's just focus on something else. How many lights on the replicator?" asks Jim, making a conscious effort to take deep breaths so Leonard can feel the rise and fall of Jim's chest against his back.
"Th- three," manages Leonard.
"Good," encourages Jim. "Now let's focus on the texture of your ri-" Jim's finger strokes the stretch of skin normally covered by Leonard's ring. "The carpet," he amends. He can feel Leonard's arm tremble as his fingers explore the rough compressed fibres.
"Now just focus on the rhythm of my breathing and try to copy. Breathe in and feel my chest expand. Breathe out and feel the air flow out allowing my chest to decompress. Feel the air expand your chest, then feel it leave," instructs Jim. He can feel Leonard trying to copy. Slowly, Leonard's short choppy breaths become slower and steadier.
It's weird being on this side of things. Like being in a foreign land Jim has to navigate with a map he only has in memory. He's not sure if being the reassuring one is any less frightening than being the one panicking. Watching Leonard go through it, is its own kind of helplessness. Whoever though Jim would prefer being the one that frequently loses touch with reality?
"Can you tell me where we are?" asks Jim softly.
"God damn shuttle craft," grumbles Leonard through clenched teeth. If Leonard hadn't been forced on to one, then Jim would never know his husband was falling apart.
Jim was hoping for a little less hostility and a little more calm, but it's not desperate gasps- so, win. "And I'm right here," adds Jim, gently.
"And you're right here," parrots Leonard, gripping Jim's hands even tighter like he's about to fall off the edge and only Jim can keep him on solid ground.
"I'm right here," hums Jim, the soft vibrations of his words prickling the skin along Leonard's neck where Jim is nuzzling him.
"So you do pay attention," huffs Leonard, still trying to get himself under control. He's been working with Jim on this technique for years in the hopes Jim will implement it when Leonard isn't around. He can't count on other people to know what to do to help Jim so he's tried to prepare Jim to be able to handle things himself.
Jim shrugs even though Leonard can't see him. It's not the first time he's been accused of being smart. "I just like it better when you do it with me."
Leonard can feel the impish smile spread across Jim's face. "You're shameless."
"If you're just figuring that out, I feel like we've missed a lot of opportunities to try new things."
Leonard's head drops forward. Always making jokes. Jim's ability to laugh things off is both envious and enraging. "What were you thinking?" sighs Leonard, slightly pained. He's been running it over in his head for awhile now and it just feels like he had the live show version of what led to that scar slithering around Jim's left arm.
Jim scoots over so he's not staring at the back of Leonard's head. "I thought I could show my husband something breath taking. It's been on my bucket list and we happened to be in the area," replies Jim casually. It's not that big a deal, granted if he knew Leonard would have a panic attack he might have approached it a little differently but Leonard obviously needs to unwind.
Leonard scowls. That's not what he's talking about at all. "The cargo bay," he corrects, "what were you thinking in the cargo bay? Khan was going to kill you."
Oh. Leonard wants to talk about that. Jim bites the inside of his lip. He'd hoped Leonard hadn't noticed, hadn't put two and two together and come to the grim conclusion of four. "I was trying to save the ship, our friends. Khan breaking my face wasn't in the fine details," he says with as much concern as if he tripped getting out of bed or banged his elbow on the counter. Things worked out, does it really matter what could have happened?
It kind of pisses Leonard off, how Jim can care so deeply and risk so much for everyone else but never about or for himself. The active brush off of what Jim was obviously going to do is just another knife in Leonard's still aching soul. "What were you doing Jim?" he repeats tiredly. He's not going to be made a widow under the guise of heroics.
Jim can't bring himself to say it. In the wake of Leonard being alive, the admission makes him feel dirty. "Doing what needed to be done," he says defensively. The thought that Leonard was dead certainly made the decision easier, but if Jim's going to be honest, he'd have sacrificed himself either way. Without Leonard, life just seems like a cold endless void, impossible to get through. If his death means Leonard gets to live, then there's no question about what has to be done. It should be that simple; he should be able to say it to Leonard's face with all the conviction he feels. He can't.
Jim's spent a large chunk of his life, particularly his youth hating his father for not being around. No, George wasn't some deadbeat that left his wife and children to fend for themselves. He imagines if given the choice, George would have chosen to be with them. He remembers listening to his mother regal them with George's heroics so he gets the importance of what George did for the ship, for them, for Jim. It's never made it hurt any less or take the sting away of having to grow up alone. Jim can absolutely understand Leonard's position in this argument. Except for the first time, he truly gets George's sacrifice. He understands what kind of love demands that kind of a sacrifice.
Leonard really wishes Nero had destroyed Jim's innate heroic streak when he tried to destroy everything else. "Coming home to me at the end of the day needs to be done too, and only you can do that." Leonard reaches out for Jim's hand.
Jim takes it, looking grim. The equation always seems so simple- as long as Leonard is safe, Jim's fate is inconsequential. It's rather daunting to know that Jim can do all the right things, all the heroic things that need to be done, and still hurt Leonard in ways no one else can. They're two peas in a pod.
Jim squeezes Leonard's hand. "I Jim Kirk-McCoy," starts Jim.
"Oh, we're hyphenating now?" asks Leonard, raising an eyebrow. Jim's been using Leonard's last name to hide out for so long, it sounds weird to hear Jim actually utter the word Kirk. Though if Leonard's being honest, hearing the name Jim Kirk still makes his insides flutter and quake.
"I want to make this really official," scolds Jim with a loving frown. He doesn't want there to be any doubt in Leonard's mind. "I Jim Kirk-McCoy, promise to do everything in my power to make plans that have me coming home to you."
"That's all I want, Jim," hums Leonard.
"Now, can we maybe take a moment to enjoy this view I found for us?" asks Jim, the sparkle returning to his eyes. He gets to his feet, offering a hand to Leonard.
A few minutes couldn't hurt. Leonard nods, taking Jim's hand. He's just made it to his feet when the shuttle rocks violently and the lights flicker briefly before plunging the shuttle into darkness.