Title: The Parting Glass
Author: Evenstar656
Summary: He tried to recall what had landed him in such sorry shape in sickbay but the memories were threads that kept slipping from his grasp. The harder he pulled, the more they slipped from him.
Spoilers: Star Trek Into Darkness, Star Trek Beyond, General AOS, Selling the Farm
Disclaimer: The Star Trek franchise and its characters are property of Paramount. Lyrics from "The Parting Glass" circa 1605.
Author's Notes: Just a bit of shameless h/c. As always, although I am a doctor I'm not that kind so I happily practice with my fictional degree.
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of major injuries and medical procedures. McKirk. Language.
I apologize for any mistakes, this was un-beta'd
###
So fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate'er befall,
And gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all
Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They'd wish me one more day to stay
###
The only thing his dulled mind could focus on was the bone deep pain radiating from this chest. Every breath sent a new wave out from his sternum up to the roots of his hair and down to the very tips of his toes. He couldn't help but let out a pitiful whimper in agony.
"Captain?" a sweet feminine, yet familiar, voice called out to him.
The response from his disused vocal cords came out garbled.
"Right here, Captain. Can you open your eyes for me?"
He rode through another tidal wave of pain. This time the agony cracked open his eyelids to allow a few photons of light through.
"A little more?"
Another wave of pain and he whimpered again.
"Are you hurting?"
He managed to open his eyelids enough to see a bright white figure. A cool damp cloth was brought across his eyes, removing the crust that had formed in the corners of his eyes from an unknown amount of deep sleep.
"Okay, give me a second."
A weird sensation of tugging at his arm and pleasant warmth flushed through the vein. The waves of pain carried this warmth throughout his body and he was pulled back under and into the darkness.
###
Voices sounding as if they were under water pricked his consciousness and began the tedious task of pulling him from the depths.
"Did he wake up?"
"Sorta, it was just for a few seconds. He wasn't really coherent. I gave him 30 migs of toraphine and he went back down."
"Okay. Let's get another hour of osteo done. It's taking longer than I expected to fuse."
"Sure thing, Geoff."
The voices dissipated and he thought he was alone until the warm blanket he'd been cocooned in was pulled back. An involuntary shiver ran through his body as the cool room air hit his bare chest.
"Jim?" the voice was shocked.
The unexpected cold was enough to bring him up to the surface.
"Captain? If you can hear me, you're in sickbay," something even colder was attached to the skin over his sternum.
The nerves there were raw and the bone underneath hurt. A groan slipped his lips before he could contain it.
"Almost done, Captain. We need to do another round of osteoregeneration. It'll feel better the sooner we get the bone repaired."
Whatever had been placed on him whirred to life with a weird tingling sensation on his breast bone. It wasn't unpleasant but the returned warmth of the blanket was too comfortable and he drifted back into unawareness.
###
There was a warm glow from the overhead light panel in the small room the first time his eyes opened enough to get sufficient input to comprehend his situation. A sentry of bulky equipment with blinking lights stood guard around his biobed.
Fucking great, sickbay.
He was nearly flat on his back and tried to roll to his side but was stopped by an unexpected deep ache in his chest and the pull of multiple tubes and wires.
What the fuck?
The tube in his nostrils was pulled off easily enough, and he rolled his head around to get a better assessment of whatever mess he just found himself in the middle of. There were clear tubes in both arms and a painful wire in his left wrist, which he discovered after trying to flex the joint. He pulled the blanket down and nearly recoiled.
His mottled and bruised chest had two thick tubes sticking out and trailing over the sides of the bed, and an army of little blinking sensors from his collarbones to his hips. A train of dermal regenerators stretched from one side of his chest all the way to the other side just under his sternum. He grabbed one from the middle and pulled it off with a satisfying pop. The little device began to screech but he was too focused on the thick and dark pink line of healed skin that was underneath it.
"Jim?" a frenzied Christine Chapel rushed through the doorway.
Jim thought it was strange that she slumped a little in relief when she saw him there with the little machine in his hands.
What happened? Where's Bones?
"Why didn't you hit the comm button," the nurse anxiously checked the myriad of dimly lit screens around him.
He opened his mouth but his throat was too dry and disused to form words. A cup with a straw was held in front of his face.
"Just a few sips," he was ordered.
The cool water soothed his raw throat, "What happened?"
The water was pulled away before he could drink his fill.
Chapel took the dermal regenerator from his hand, "Are you in any pain, Captain?"
The edges of his vision were starting to get a bit fuzzy and he tried to squint to focus on the nurse as she put the dermal regenerator back in line with the others.
"Happened?" drawing oxygen was becoming a challenge.
A beep above his head must've alerted her to something and she turned her head up to him. She found the discarded tubing and reinserted the prongs into his nostrils. He took a breath and was rewarded with oxygen.
Huh, must actually need that.
"You still need the O2, Captain. I'm sorry but that needs to stay for the time being."
"Chris," his attempt to grab her arm was a lot weaker than he expected and his arm only budged a few centimeters.
"What happened?"
She smoothed out the blanket she had pulled over his chest, "What do you remember?"
He tried to recall what had landed him in such sorry shape in sickbay but the memories were threads that kept slipping from his grasp. The harder he pulled, the more they slipped from him.
"It's okay, just take it easy," the nurse was following something on the display above his head.
A shrill beep accompanied his growing sense of panic over not knowing what had happened to him. He just wanted answers.
Why can't I remember?
"Geoff!" the alarm seemed to double down on whatever was wrong.
The doctor must've been nearby and he was in the room the instant Chapel finished yelling for him.
"Hey, Captain," he said to the screen above his head instead of him which only seemed to set him further on edge.
Where's Bones?
"Bones?"
"Just calm down for me first."
He didn't want to calm down; he wanted answers. The shrill beeping picked up its pace. The doctor ordered something and before he knew it Chapel was at the screen his IV lines were feeding from and there was a foreboding hiss-click from the instrument. A warm feeling in his arm followed shortly and he was unable to fight whatever was being sent through his bloodstream.
"No," was all he could get out before his brain was sending commands for him to sleep.
"It's alright, Jim. Just rest," Chapel kept a comforting hand on his bare shoulder as he tried to resist the drugs.
Whatever they dosed him with was too strong and he was sent into the darkness.
###
"I gave him half a milligram of lorazepam ten minutes ago," he could hear a nurse that wasn't Chapel off to his side.
"Ok good, he should come up better."
It was irritating to know they kept drugging him.
Bones wouldn't do this.
The single thought of wondering where McCoy was enough to pull him the rest of the way to consciousness. He opened his eyes and the lights inside his small room were brighter.
"Hey there," Nurse Hayes was bent over in his field of vision.
A small shift in bed produced considerably less pain than the last time he woke up.
"Any pain?" her cheery demeanor was too much for his grumpiness.
"Where's Bones?"
A flick of her eyes upward told him that he was already starting to get worked up.
"I know, Jim. We'll get you answers in a second, but I need to make sure you're okay first. Is that alright?"
He wasn't going to get anything otherwise so he huffed.
"Good. Now, on a scale of one to ten, what pain are you feeling? No bullshitting either."
A few deep breaths later to test the deep ache in his chest, "Six."
"Okay, I'm gonna give you just a bit to take the edge off. It won't make you sleepy," the nurse was already punching the screen on the stand his IV lines went to.
As promised the pain did ratchet down a couple of notches but he wasn't drowsy.
"Better?"
"Yeah," his voice was raspy.
The head of the biobed was brought up a few degrees and a cup with a straw was held out in front of his face.
"You know the drill, just a few sips."
The cup was pulled away before he could get what he really wanted.
"A few more questions, okay?"
It was grating his nerves to be treated like a petulant child.
"Any dizziness or nausea?"
"No," it was a challenge not to roll his eyes.
"Feeling short of breath?"
"No."
"Fantastic, Jim. I'm cleared to free you from your supplemental O2."
The cannula in his nostrils was pulled free from his face and tossed down a biotrash chute behind a wall panel.
"Just a couple more things, okay?"
He nodded impatiently.
"Can I check your chest tube?" she motioned to the blanket covering him.
She must not have really needed an answer because she folded the sheet and blanket to his waist before he could say either way. He had a better angle than previously and was disgusted with what he saw. The bruising was a sickly mix of purple and yellow but most of the blinking sensors appeared to be gone this time. He also thought there had been another thick tube jutting out of his chest but he could only see the one the nurse was so focused on at his left side. The thick scar was there, crossing his chest as it was unimpeded by a line of regenerators hiding it from view this time. There was a smaller, already healed, circular wound under his pectorals he hadn't noticed before.
I don't remember this.
"Jim?" Hayes was finished and standing over him as he tried to remember what happened.
"What?" he was at a loss.
Where's Bones?
He could feel his anxiety beginning to boil.
"Hey, calm down," there was a soothing hand on his arm. "I know looks bad but you're through the worst of it finally."
"What happened?"
There was a ping from the screen over his head.
"Hey, Captain," M'Benga beamed, seeing the man more upright and alert.
This was not who Jim wanted to see.
"Where's, Doctor McCoy?" he ground out.
"I know, I know. He's fine, Jim, I promise."
"Then where is he?" Jim was having none of this.
Hayes and M'Benga looked nervously at each other.
"Where. Is. My. CMO?" each word was seethed.
"Captain, Jim, please try to calm down. We can't get your cardiovascular system too worked up after what it's been through."
Jim was losing what little patience he had, it felt like an invisible band had wrapped itself around his chest and had begun to squeeze.
"Jim, Leonard resigned."
His brain was sputtering to comprehend the words that tumbled out of the other doctor's lips.
"What?" the band was tightening itself, making it harder to breathe.
The screen above him started to wail furiously. He thought he saw the doctor sigh before he grabbed a pre-filled syringe and injected it into the port at his arm.
"Stop drugging me," Jim reached over to pull the line but his feeble movements were easily intercepted and stopped.
"I promise we'll talk once we stop skirting the edges of shock every time you wake up."
Hayes held his escaping hand firmly between her own, and again he was powerless to stop the chemicals from reaching his brain.
###
The room was dim the next time he woke up. There was a heaviness in his body that suggested he was still under the influence of drugs dampening his responses. He could sense someone else in the room with him.
"They sent you to break it to me again?" he opened his eyes to see Spock in the chair at his bedside.
The Vulcan paused ever so slightly, "Yes, Jim."
"They told me he resigned."
Spock was silent.
"And? Do I have to ask every question?"
"Doctor McCoy submitted his request 13 days ago. We diverted to Star Base 7 and he was dropped off via shuttle once the ship was within range. Doctor M'Benga was advanced to Chief Medical Officer and the ship resumed its previous course per orders from Starfleet Command. Per Command, we will pick up another doctor in two weeks once this assignment is complete."
That was a lot to unpack, "Where did he go?"
"Nyota received a text comm 11 days ago notifying us that he arrived safely at Terra. There have been no further communications provided by Doctor McCoy."
"Did he say why he left?" his brain was fighting the drugs working to control his anxiety level.
"All he said was that it was personal and to 'keep my green ass out of it'."
Jim didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry.
"What happened to me?"
"You do not recall?"
"Obviously not," he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose but his arms were too heavy. "An away mission gone wrong like usual?"
The Vulcan paused again but Jim didn't notice, "Yes, Jim. You were injured during the retreat."
A few pieces of the puzzle fell into place, "Almost two weeks ago?"
"16 days to be more accurate."
"I've been out for over two weeks?" the display screen above his head did not like the outburst.
"Yes, you were grievously injured."
"Captain?" M'Benga entered, no doubt someone was keeping their eye on his vitals. "Everything alright?"
Jim was beyond frustrated, "No. What the hell happened to me and why is Bones on Earth?"
The new CMO and Acting Captain shared a look.
"Spit it out."
M'Benga sucked in a deep breath, "You were hit by a high velocity projectile, and the damage was incredible. The round, the chemists told me the alloy but I forgot, went through your chest. It damaged the heart before it exited. We, uh, had to open up your chest all the way to repair the damage. It was a very hard surgery on us, and more importantly you. We had to keep you down for as long as possible to keep your cardiovascular system calm while you healed. The repairs were very delicate at first and the blood loss was extensive. Your survival was not guaranteed in those early days."
The doctor's blunt explanation nearly sucked all of the oxygen from the room. Jim had a hard time grasping the pile of information thrown at his feet. He didn't remember a single thing, only snippets of waking up here and there.
Holy fuck.
"I don't remember anything…"
"That's not uncommon in traumatic injury. I wouldn't try to force it, your mind will remember when it's ready."
"And the damage is fixed?"
"Yes, Captain. The recovery will be arduous but there's no reason not to expect a full one."
He had so many questions and could feel himself getting worked up again.
"Why am I still on the ship? Why did Bones leave? Is my command at risk?"
M'Benga held up his hands, "Easy, please."
"Your captaincy is not at risk and you are free to regain command once cleared," Spock assured. "You were too unstable to be moved for some time. It was agreed that it was in your best interest to remain onboard for your recovery."
That still didn't answer things; they routinely dropped off crewmembers too injured or sick to continue. In any case he didn't have the energy to keep up the interrogation. It had barely been fifteen minutes and already he was flagging.
"Please rest, Captain. That's the best thing for you right now," M'Benga took a final glance at the display screens before leaving the room.
"Spock?"
"Yes, Jim?"
"Why isn't Bones here?"
"I am uncertain, Jim."
He wanted to stay awake but it was too hard.
###
More pieces of equipment that had been guarding his recovery were gone the next time he woke up long enough to process his situation. All he could detect were a couple of sensors still on this chest, a single IV line, and a tube down south he didn't want to think about. At least finally he'd been put in a patient gown.
What day is this?
He brought up a newly freed hand and found several weeks worth of beard on his face. His hand traveled further up and found his hair in complete disarray. Oddly, this bothered him more than it should have. He'd never woken up after any length of ailment or injury and had the beginnings of a beard.
Had Bones been shaving me?
"Jim?" the sight of his comms officer poking her head around the doorframe shook him from his thoughts.
"Hey," he tried to be cheerful for her.
"Want a visitor for a few minutes? They told me you were awake but I still had to check…"
"It's fine, have a seat," he conveniently used the hand that had been exploring his face to point to the open chair.
"How are you feeling?" she pulled the chair closer to the bed and grabbed his hand.
The strength of her grip indicated she was never going to let go, "I should ask you."
He tried to wiggle his fingers, "Oh shit, I'm sorry, Jim. It's just, uh, the first time I've gotten to see you. We only got updates. They, uh…"
He couldn't recall a time his comms officer ever stuttered, "I know, they told me. You weren't on the away team were you?"
Uhura looked up at him, "You don't remember?"
"It's pretty blank except for a few bits where I know I was already on the ship."
"I wasn't on the away team, I was on console up on the Bridge."
"Oh. Anyways, Spock told me you heard from Bones?"
"Just the one message. He, uh, hasn't been responding to the others we've sent."
"Are they bouncing back?"
"No he's reading them, I put a 'read receipt' subroutine into them so I know he's reading them."
Jim processed the information; McCoy was deliberately ignoring his friends.
"Uhura, what happened?"
"Jim, that's something you need to talk to Leonard about. I think this whole thing really shook him up."
"Well no shit, he left didn't he?" he knew those words would hurt the moment they left.
Uhura winced, "Yeah, Jim."
"Do you at least have a data pad so I can try and ask him?"
The communications officer was hesitant to hand over the data pad he hadn't noticed before in her lap.
"Tell him to come home, please," she handed over the device.
What the fuck is going on with everyone?
"I will," he saw that McCoy's personal comm signal was already updated in his address book.
Uhura sat quietly while he pecked out a quick note.
"Do you know where he went?"
"I'm not allowed to triangulate communications with private citizens without authorization."
Jim wanted to ask her to do it, but it wouldn't end well for her if it was ever found out she followed his unethical order. Whether he liked it or not, Federation citizens were guaranteed privacy unless there was a damn good reason that affected their security or the Federation's security. He nodded and sent the message.
A reply pinged back almost immediately.
He read it out loud, "Jim, safe on solid ground. Recover swiftly, Leonard McCoy."
Uhura furrowed her brow. That didn't sound like the McCoy either of them knew.
"That sounds an awful lot like an automatic reply."
"Yeah if it came that quickly. No one else has gotten any kind of response."
Nurse Chapel with a tray in her hands put a stop to the wheels in his brain that had started turning.
"Alright, Captain. Time to get you eating. Once you start eating we can look into getting you cut loose from the last of your IVs."
"I'll be back by later," Uhura gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before leaving.
"Let's get you sitting up," Chapel punched the keys on his biobed to bring him to a default upright position.
The motion of the bed made him nauseous and the blood rushing down and out of his upper body made him dizzy.
"Let's give you a minute there," Chapel eyed some number that turned yellow. "Dizzy?"
"A bit," he leaned his head back and tried to breathe slowly and methodically.
"Yeah, your pressure dropped a bit on me there. It's coming back up. Don't worry; this is normal. You've been lying down for so long…"
Jim tuned out her chatter until she deemed his blood pressure stable and high enough to continue.
"Captain?"
He'd been drifting out a lot, "Ready."
The bedside table was adjusted and a bowl of broth was rolled in front of him. It even had a straw in the bowl ready for him, just like McCoy always did for him.
Bones.
"Hey, Jim, what's wrong?" Chapel was suddenly in his face.
He blinked a few times to get rid of the moisture that had been attempting to well up in his eyes, "Nothing."
Chapel gave him a quizzical look but let it go. He managed to put away half of the bowl before his digestive system said that was more than plenty.
"Feeling alright?" Chapel peered down at the bowl.
"Yeah, fine."
"Great, just a couple more things and I'll be out of your hair for a bit. You probably want to feel a bit more human," she swapped the tray of food for a tray with a sonic wand and a comb on it.
Bones usually did this stuff.
A flush of embarrassment traveled to the roots of his hair as the nurse went about cleaning him. She was ever the professional, only uncovering the section she needed at the moment before moving on to a different area of his body. Her hands were methodical and down to business where McCoy's hands had been soothing and caring.
"Alright, Captain. You look much better if I say so myself," she finished combing out the part he usually wore in his hair.
He rubbed his scratchy jaw line, "Any chance there's a razor there?"
The nurse ground to a halt, "Uh no, I didn't think to grab one. Now that I think about it, Leonard always took care of that."
"It's okay, Christine," the nurse was hit by the same feeling of melancholy he was. "Why did he quit?"
"I don't know, Jim."
He could tell the nurse wanted out of there so he dismissed her with a quick 'thanks'. Feeling marginally better he pulled the data pad Uhura had left him from the table it had been moved to. A few taps later he accessed the Bridge communication loop archives and scrolled down to the files from the day of the away mission.
"Kirk to Enterprise, we've beamed down successfully at LZ-Alpha. Proceeding to the meet site."
The transcript of the recording showed the next hours were the usual away mission chatter; he fast-forwarded the audio to where the shit hit the fan.
"Kirk to Enterprise! Hostile forces are chasing us! We're on our way back to the extraction point."
"Copy Kirk."
"Bridge to Transporter."
"Transporter here."
"Away team is coming in hot."
"Copy that, initialization underway."
"Kirk to Enterprise!"
"Go ahead, Captain."
"LZ-alpha is no joy. Falling back."
"Copy Kirk."
"Bridge to Transporter."
"Transporter here."
"Tapping you into the main loop."
"Copy Bridge."
The audio streams from the Bridge team and the Transporter room blended together.
"Enterprise! Taking heavy fire. Non energized weapons."
"Copy Kirk. Recommend you switch to VOX."
"Go for VOX. Can we extract from this location?"
"Negative sir, you'll need to clear the rock structures."
"They want us to leave our cover?"
"Shit guys, we gotta find another place."
"Fuck, Rao just went down."
"Bones, don't move!"
"Jim, he's been shot!"
"Yeah and you'd have to leave your position to get to him. Stay down, McCoy."
"Transporter to Kirk"
"Kirk."
"Clearest zone for beam out looks to be 150 meters to your rear."
"Copy that. All right group, new rally point is 150 meters aft. Get behind that log and dig a hole."
"Sir."
"Aye, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Bridge to Security."
"Go for Security."
"The away team is under attack. Non-energized weapons. They need a team for extraction cover."
"Copy."
"Enterprise to Kirk."
"Kinda busy at the moment!"
"Security team is en route."
"How long?"
"Two minutes max, pad is hot and ready."
"Jim, Rao isn't moving!"
"Bones, stay down."
"Security team on the pad. Energizing."
"Cover the team beaming in!"
"Security team is boots down. We're here, Cap'n."
"Sending folks back to you!"
"Group 1 ready to go. Energize. Clear the pad! Bridge we have the first group."
"Bridge copies."
"Bones it's your turn."
"Jim no, Rao…"
"Alright, we'll go get him on the count of 3. 3, 2, 1, execute."
"Jesus H Christ he's heavy."
"Not now, Bones. You can complain aft—"
"Jim! Fuck. Jim's been hit! I need a hand up here! Jesus fucking Christ. Jim, stay with me! Right in the fucking chest. Jim! No, no, no. Enterprise!"
"Bridge here."
"Fuck I lost a pulse. There's so much damn blood everywhere. Have M'Benga and everyone else meet us on the pad. Tell them 'crash RT'. Say those words exactly! Fuck, starting compressions."
"Doctor we need to move back."
"Bridge to Sickbay."
"Sickbay."
"McCoy said 'crash RT' on the transporter pad. Incoming casualty."
"Are you sure that's what he said?"
"Affirm, 'crash RT say those words exactly'. The Captain is down. He's started CPR."
"Copy that. Everyone to the transporter room! Grab an RT and ALS kit! Grab a cooler of —"
"Doctor we need to move now."
"I can't move! I'm keeping his damn blood circulating."
"Doctor, we can't beam out from this position."
"If I stop he can die! He has minutes."
"Grab him."
"Get off me. Restarting compressions! You fucking asshole, Jim."
"Signals locked. Energize!"
The audio file abruptly ended. He scrolled back and forth on the feed, there was nothing after this until a couple of hours later with regular Bridge chatter. The audio and video files to the transporter room also had long blank gaps in them. Someone had removed whatever happened after they beamed back onto the ship.
"Everything alright, Captain?" Chapel poked her head around the door.
"Yeah, just trying to find something to watch," he held up the blank data pad.
"Okay, find something more restful to entertain yourself with please."
"Christine?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Did Rao make it?"
The nurse's face fell, "I'm sorry, Jim."
He nodded and turned away, ending any further conversation.
###
"It's bonnie ta see ya walkin' Jimbo," a thick Scottish brogue boomed behind the trio.
He'd finally been freed of everything but one of his IVs and allowed sickbay pajamas. From there everything picked up speed and two of the burly corpsmen were at his bedside every three hours helping him walk laps around sickbay. 'It's good for circulation' he could hear M'Benga and the nurses' voices echo as the mind numbness of the laps wore on. He swung his IV pole around to see his chief engineer with a duffle bag leaning on the nurse's desk.
"Hey, Scotty. I'm done for this round you can come back," he waved with his free hand.
The engineer winked at Nurse Hayes and followed the captain to his room. Jim dismissed the corpsmen with a nod and sat on the edge of the biobed.
"I brought you some of your gear," the bag was dropped beside him and Scotty plopped in the chair.
"Man, you're the best," Jim pulled out his shaving kit.
"Yeah, sorry I couldnae drop these off sooner…"
"It's alright."
"I mean that more as 'I'm sorry didnae come see ya'."
Jim stilled, "I figured. I can't say I've been good company lately."
The engineer didn't know what to say.
"Did he say where he was going to you?"
Scotty looked down at his hands, "All I know is that he was headed to Earth. We had a wee dram before he left but we honestly didnae talk much."
"This wouldn't be related to the missing security footage from the transporter room would it?"
He'd been scouring the ship's computer for days but still had yet to find the missing footage. Whoever deleted it did an impressively thorough job. All of his messages to McCoy's personal signal were ignored. The only thing had been an automated comm a week after Jim's initial message saying all was well.
"Damned thing musta malfunctioned."
"Right…"
"Jim, he asked me no tell ya, and I'm gonna keep my word. He's a fellow Scotsman."
"He's from Georgia."
"Aye, but Scots fled to America after the Uprising."
The engineer was unusually stubborn and resistant to this line of interrogation, "So what's new with the ship? No one else is willing to talk about it when they come visit me."
The chatter between the two officers was easy after the rocky start was out of the way. Their light conversation abruptly ended with Scotty being called back to Engineering.
"Take care, Jim."
"Thanks, Scotty," he was slightly relieved to be left alone.
He grabbed his shaving kit and IV pole and padded to the bathroom at the end of the corridor, leaving the door open before a nurse could have a stroke. Scotty was thoughtful, having packed his regular and electric razors. Jim sighed as he looked in the mirror, it was going to take effort to tame the animal on his face.
"You alright, Captain?" Hayes called down the hallway.
This was why he left the door open. He held up his razor and was rewarded with diminishing footsteps. The rhythm of the lathering and swiping was therapeutic, not just in the sense of relief for his face. He held the hot towel to his freshly shorn cheeks and savored the comfort; the towel lost its heat and he tossed it into a chute.
"You look remarkably improved," he turned to leave with his shaving kit and IV pole.
"I feel a hundred pounds lighter."
"I do not believe facial hair has the density…"
"C'mon, Spock. It was a joke. I feel like I have to explain them to you every time."
The Vulcan stood mouth agape while he processed the less than literal meaning of the Captain's words. Jim shuffled past him on the way back to his room. He was suddenly exhausted after all that standing. Jim put the stand back in its usual spot and swung his legs up onto the biobed.
"What brings you to the neighborhood?" he relaxed into the mattress.
"I came to inform you that the astrophysics lab has finished their mission ahead of schedule and Command has ordered us to Starbase 1."
"We're going back to Earth?"
"Yes, Jim. We are to retrieve the replacement physician and for Doctor M'Benga's promotion to be made official by the Admiral Donaldson at Starfleet Medical."
Jim deflated, "Oh. Has he talked to you?"
"Negative, Jim. Leonard has been unresponsive to Nyota's or my attempts to contact him."
Jim squared his gaze, it was time to try and get the Vulcan to spill the beans. He had enough with everyone walking on eggshells around him and McCoy, of all people, ignoring him.
"Funny thing happened the other day. I was listening to the comm loops to jog my memory and they stopped as soon as the team beamed back. I know Uhura wouldn't let something like that happen while she was in charge."
"Is there a query?"
"What happened, Spock?"
"I am not the expert on the commun—"
"So the same malfunction happened to the security feed from the transporter room?"
"The statistical likelihood is not a non zero number."
Smartass.
"He told you not to tell me?"
"Yes, Jim."
"And you agreed?
Spock remained silent.
"Uh huh, and what was so bad that no one will tell me what happened, the feeds get erased, and Bones just up and quits?"
The answer hit him like a ton of bricks as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream and he was headed for the door; the IV line reached its end and he yanked it out of his vein with a hiss.
"Captain, you must—" Spock didn't try to stop him but followed close.
"Captain! Jim!" Hayes was out of her chair and chasing after him out of sickbay.
He didn't stop until he was at McCoy's quarters, conveniently near sickbay in case of emergencies or furious captains. McCoy's old code still worked and the door swished open silently.
The room was bare, all of the tokens and knick knacks the doctor kept were gone. Even the man's personal bedding had been replaced with the standard set from the quartermaster. Jim circled the room; on the desk stood a lone glass with the last of a bottle of rare bourbon Jim had given McCoy after he accepted the CMO post for their five year mission. Next to the liquor was a data pad.
"Did you know about this?" Jim eyed his first officer who had followed him.
Hayes was at his side, pressing gauze to his bleeding arm.
"I did not know."
Jim waved off the nurse, "I need a minute."
"I need you to get back to sickbay."
"Nurse, I think the Captain will remain in satisfactory condition for the time being."
"Geoff is not going to be happy," Hayes left with the wad of bloodied gauze.
Jim sat at the desk and powered up the data pad.
I'm sure you've figured out the vid feed has been altered; this is the only copy. I know you'll want to look. Pour one for you, there's no going back after this. You'll understand. - LHM
There was only one file attached to the note.
###
"Signals locked. Energize!"
It was utter chaos the nanosecond the team materialized on the pad. The group stared in shock as the doctor pulled the profusely bleeding captain down off the platform and laid him flat on the deck plating, leaving a trail of smeared blood. Jim was a ghastly gray color; his limbs splayed where they fell, and his mouth open but not pulling in any oxygen.
"Where's the med team?" McCoy shouted, not interrupting the chest compressions forcing blood to Jim's organs.
"On their way!" the transporter tech shouted. "Clear the room! Out!"
The security team and the rest of the away team couldn't get away from the frenzied surgeon and the growing pool of red from under their captain fast enough.
"Fuck," McCoy looked down at Jim's body jerking with each thrust of his hands. "You fucking asshole. Where are they?"
"Here!" M'Benga, already gowned and gloved, barely slowed down at the scene in front of him. He was on his knees opposite of McCoy in seconds with a penlight and peeling Jim's eyelids apart.
Nurses Chapel and Hayes, equally gowned and gloved, were hot on his heels along with two corpsmen in tow. Each person had two bulky kits in their hands and were thrown to the ground next to their patient.
"Projectile, upper left chest. There's an exit in the back. He had a pulse for about three minutes and then I lost it. CPR started immediately. Severe hemorrhaging, we need to initiate MTP. Jugular distension – likely tamponade. I need to be at the pericardium in two minutes."
M'Benga knew better than to question the doctor's plan, if anyone was capable of pulling off the impossible, it was McCoy. His job was to do everything he could to help the man succeed, and he immediately began working to stabilize the captain.
"Let's get two large bores going," McCoy paused chest compressions long enough for Chapel to cut Jim's shirts open. "Ringers, FFP, and RBCs wide open."
The entry wound was deceptive; it was just a small puckered hole that was barely bleeding. Jim's body was pliant as he was rolled to his side and the remains of his shirts pulled free. Heavy bandages were shoved against the raw and ugly exit wound before he was laid flat again. A plastic frame was snapped around Jim's bicep and the display screen immediately began wailing as its sensors registered deteriorating vital signs. M'Benga pulled apart the two ends of a scanner and held it over Jim's chest, the screen showing simulated images of the damage underneath.
"Someone take over!" McCoy shouted, moving to look at the display.
A corpsman took over compressions for the doctor. The surgeons saw what they needed to, and it wasn't good. McCoy slid in the congealing puddle to Jim's head.
"You over here," Hayes motioned to the transporter tech to come over to them. "Hold these up high."
Multiple IV bags were thrust into the tech's hands before he had a chance to protest. Chapel saw McCoy tilting the captain's head back and reached back into their open kits. She handed an ET tube to the CMO before he had the chance to ask, this was a frantic but well choreographed ballet. The slim tube was threaded down Jim's airways and the box at the top set to deliver breaths automatically. McCoy slid back down to the captain's side to see blue surgical drapes and their portable sterilization field had already been placed.
"He's good to go, propofol and succs going in," M'Benga finished injecting syringes into an IV port.
McCoy pulled a surgical gown over his arms and snapped on a pair of gloves, "We'll do a clamshell."
"Ready."
"Nine blade," McCoy held out his hand for the laser scalpel.
Chapel placed the tool in his hand. There was no hesitation as he set the sharp blade down on the side of Jim's chest and drew it all the way across to the opposite side.
"What is the meaning of this?" Spock appeared, visibly stunned at the sight of McCoy slicing into Jim's chest on the floor in the transporter room.
"Out, Spock! Keep everyone out of here."
"Doctor McCoy..."
McCoy looked up from the incision he was opening further, "I don't have time for this. Get. Out. Now."
Spock saw the ferocity in the CMO's eyes and retreated to the doorway, standing guard over the medical team as they fought to save their captain.
"I have the intercostals open, get ready to crack the sternum," McCoy pulled a pair of curved scissors out of the gaping incision.
M'Benga was ready with a bone laser and drew it across the exposed bone. It was only three centimeters wide and was split effortlessly by the laser's white-hot beam. McCoy shoved a large metallic frame into the new opening and turned the hand crank.
###
Jim could only stare in horror at the frenzy on the small display screen. An imaginary hand had grasped the organ still pounding in his chest as he took in the image of his open chest and motionless heart on display in the transporter room.
He couldn't look away from the screen as McCoy cradled the still heart with his gloved hands.
"Jim, I think you have seen enough to understand—"
"Not now, Spock," Jim's eyes were transfixed as a bluish layer of tissue that surrounded his heart was pulled loose from the muscle and a snip made with tiny scissors.
The shouting from the tiny speaker increased as a torrent of blood spilled from the new hole and McCoy's hands dove back into the open cavity. It was too much to watch as they worked on the organ. Jim hit fast forward, and the race to save his life became more frantic. It wasn't until he saw a stretcher brought next to his body and a clear film thrown over his gaping chest cavity did he command the system to resume at normal speed.
"On 3! 3, 2, 1,"
His body was lifted onto the stretcher and was rushed out of the camera's sight.
"What the hell happened?" his chief engineer came into frame and stood in front of the unbelievable mess that had been left behind.
The technician who'd been used as an impromptu IV stand, and had a bird's eye view of his captain's open chest cavity, was white as a sheet.
Scotty stepped around the smeared pool of dark red blood and discarded medical gear.
"Choi, yer shakin' like a leaf."
The tech backed away from the mess until his boots hit the transporter's platform and he fell backwards.
"Oi!"
Jim fast-forwarded through the technician passing out and the room being sealed off. The racing time stamp in the lower left corner indicated that several hours passed before a crew pushing carts entered the room and began the process to clean up. He turned the data pad off and started at the bourbon in the bottle.
"I do not think that is wise, Jim."
No amount of liquor could erase what he just saw, "I'm not going to drink it."
"Perhaps it would be prudent to return to sickbay."
"I'm not going back."
"Yes, Jim."
A slender but firm hand grasped under his arm and pulled him out of the chair. He was lost and dazed as he was herded towards the bed and lowered down gently.
"I broke him," Jim muttered.
###
"We're here, sir," Sulu stood with Chekov at the open shuttle door.
"You guys didn't have to," hoisted his duffle higher on his shoulder.
"We wanted to," Chekov added.
Jim placed a comforting hand on the young navigator's shoulder, "Still I appreciate you guys dropping me off and for what you helped Bones do."
"What do you mean?" obviously the navigator was a terrible poker player.
"Please, Pavel, I've known Bones long enough. He can barely work a coffee maker, no less erase data from the ship's computers so thoroughly."
The navigator blushed, "I was not alone—"
"Yeah, I know Scotty helped too. Still, thank you."
"Get some rest, sir. We only have a week of shore leave."
"Thanks, Hikaru," Jim clapped the helmsman on the back as he walked past him.
"Bring him home."
"That's the plan," Jim dropped off the last step and onto the gravel driveway in front of him.
The blue stones crunched under his boots as he made his way down to the big white house with thick columns at the end. The great red door opened before he made it to the wooden steps.
"Jim!" he was wrapped in a fierce hug, bag and all, by a petite woman with a snow-white bun at the top of her head.
"Good to see you too, Ellie," he returned the hug.
"It's been far too long," the little woman pulled him through the doorway and pulled off his leather jacket.
"I know. I have no excuses."
"Well I just started the coffee, I imagine we have a bit to talk about."
Jim tried hard not to let his expression fall when he was stared down by the trademark hazel eyes of the McCoy clan.
"Yes, ma'am."
Ellie poured the coffee from an antique French press into two waiting mugs. She motioned for him to follow her to the sunroom behind the kitchen. The mesh screen kept the bugs out but allowed the sweet Georgian breeze to pass through. He sat down into the thick cushion on a wicker chair and let the summer breeze ruffle his hair.
"How was your trip?" Ellie took her own seat, evident by a stack of crossword puzzle books and a pair of reading glasses.
"It was fine, I left as soon as my leave request was approved. I, uh, I wished I could've gotten here sooner," Jim sipped at the rich brew.
"Not to worry, dear. I heard how bad it was."
Jim swallowed a lump in his throat. This was the second time he'd danced close enough with death to warrant McCoy running home to his mother.
"I didn't mean to do it this time," he said softly.
"I know, he told me that you wouldn't have gotten hurt if he hadn't made you go back for your injured crewmate."
"What?" Jim nearly spat out his coffee. "That's not true at all."
"I know, Jim, but that's how he sees it."
"Do you know where he is? He won't answer me back."
"Well he stopped by the house for a couple of days a few weeks ago. He wanted me to drop him off at the car dealer before he left."
"Any idea where he was headed?"
"Well Joanna is off planet with her mom and stepdad on vacation, so he's probably not still around Atlanta."
"Did you guys have a vacation house or anything?"
Ellie paused to think, "Well no, but we did used to always rent a house on Tybee every summer. It's a few hours from here, on the other side of Savannah. There's not much there, a couple of restaurants, and a pier. It's mostly just vacation houses."
"Do you think he would go there?"
"Maybe?"
"Anyways it's too late for you to try and get there today. How about you spend the night and I can drop you off to get a rental tomorrow?"
"Thanks, Ellie," Jim finished his coffee.
"Since I have you here, I could use a hand on a few things."
Jim chuckled, "Whatever you need."
He took the small chores he was given in stride, it was the least he could do after what he put her son through and the hospitality she was showing him again. She must've known he was still technically healing as none of the tasks she asked of him were particularly demanding and were tasks she could've easily completed herself. Dinner was a casual affair with a stack of sandwiches and a bag of old fashioned potato chips between the two of them as they sat on the steps of the front porch.
###
"Thank you so much, Ellie," Jim was trying hard to keep his composure.
"Do try to visit before shit hits the fan," Ellie squeezed tight.
He chuckled, "Yes, ma'am."
A brown bag containing lunch for the road was thrust in his hands before he stepped into the hovercar rental office. Half an hour later he was on the interstate headed northeast towards Savannah. He stopped at a park in the historic part of Old Savannah and ate the pimento cheese sandwiches that had been packed for him under a large oak tree dripping with Spanish moss.
I can see why he hates space.
Jim finished chewing and walked back to his rental after tossing his trash in a bin. He rolled the vehicle's windows down as he turned onto Highway 80. The air became crisper and salter the closer he got to the island. The road went all the way to the ocean's edge before bending to the right. It was row upon row of brightly colored beach houses the entire length of the two-mile island. It was seeing the long rainbow of houses that he realized the flaw in his plan.
How am I supposed to find him if he is even here?
He traveled the length of the road a couple of times, scrutinizing the people on the sides of the road walking or carrying chairs to the beach. This was a terrible way to search so he pulled into the parking lot of some seafood shack and pulled up the map on his rental's console screen. Ellie had been right, other than some restaurants the only attractions seemed to be a still working antique lighthouse and pier. He decided to try to pier and put the car back into drive. There was plenty of parking at a beach access lot he found next to the pier. There was a vintage ragtop Jeep, with actual wheels touching the ground, in the lot so he pulled in next to that one.
That's a sweet set of wheels. Looks to be in good condition.
The sun was blazing so he tossed his jacket in the backseat. He surveyed the murky green waters of the Atlantic Ocean; it's waves rushing at the sand and children giggling as they fled the water. It was a short walk to the pier where the gray wooden boards groaned as he walked the length. There were people here and there with coolers and fishing lines tossed over the railings.
At the very end of the pier, sitting on a plain bench was the back of a man he'd recognize anywhere. His heart jumped to his throat. He hadn't actually thought about what to say or even considered the possibility that McCoy's resignation was final. Unfortunately the boards gave him away as he approached.
"You don't have to stand there and watch me from behind like some kind of a creep," McCoy said without turning around.
Jim cautiously went around the bench and sat in the open space next to a cooler and tackle box. He eyed his former CMO. McCoy's hair looked wild and unkempt under the greasy old ball cap he had on, and it was longer than he'd ever seen it before. Dark shades covered his eyes and a dark thick beard covered his lower face. The man who he usually saw in crisp uniforms was in shorts, flip-flops, and an obnoxiously floral linen shirt. There was a soft roundness to his muscles that he'd never had on the ship.
"I didn't take you for the fishing type," Jim noted the rod held loosely in one hand and a beer in the other.
"I used to fish here every summer with my Pa and Papaw as a boy. There's beer in the cooler."
Jim opened the lid to the red and white cooler and pulled out a chilled bottle. He twisted the top off and took a hesitant sip.
"I saw your mom."
"I know, she told me after you got in last night."
"Did she know you were here?"
"Maybe."
He had to hand it to Ellie, knowing where her son was the whole time and playing it off as a guess.
Damn McCoys.
"I got in as soon as we docked."
"Heard that too."
"What?"
"You can tell Nyota I know she had a read-receipt program running on her comms. I'm not a complete idiot."
Jim took a pull from his bottle.
"I, uh...I saw the video."
Jim saw the knuckles around the fishing rod turn white.
"Not today, kid."
Jim remained silent after the grip loosened. The two men sat in silence until the sun started to dip into the horizon.
"You didn't catch anything," Jim commented as McCoy packed up his gear.
"It's not always about catching," McCoy handed the empty cooler to Jim.
Jim followed McCoy down the length of the pier and to the parking lot.
"You gotta be shitting me," he couldn't believe it when McCoy tossed his fishing gear into the back of the Jeep he'd parked next to. "You in an open top Jeep with real wheels?"
"And?" McCoy tucked his sunglasses into his shirt pocket.
"If you get in and don't buckle a harness I'm gonna lose it."
"You can follow me to my rental if you want. There's a second bedroom you can use if you didn't get a place," McCoy wasn't amused and climbed into the driver's seat.
"Sure, Bones. On your six."
Jim followed the Jeep through the island streets and pastel houses to a stilted bungalow that faced the ocean. He parked under the house next to McCoy and followed the man up the stairs with his duffle bag. McCoy dropped his fishing gear and cooler on the porch and keyed open the door.
"Bedroom's down the hall on the left."
He dropped his bag off in the second bedroom and found McCoy on the back porch filling a kettle grill with briquettes. The fire was started without any kind of remark about burning one's eyebrows off their face. Everything about this, driving an old rag top with no seatbelts and cooking by open fire, went against the very essence of the man before him.
"What can I do to help?" Jim pulled the sliding glass door open.
"Sit there and enjoy the view. I'll put the steaks on once it preheats," McCoy replaced the grill's lid.
Jim turned back into the house and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. He passed one to McCoy before lowering himself into an Adirondack chair facing the ocean. The sound of the ebb and flow of the waves was gentle and calming. He watched as birds swooped down to pluck at crabs in the sand before a new wave came up the beach and they scurried away, waiting for another try. Jim was transfixed as the holes made by the birds were filled and smoothed over with each new crash of a wave. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to stare at something for so long without orbiting from hundreds of miles up above on his ship.
"Jim?" McCoy holding a plate and a pair of tongs snapped him out of his reverie.
"Shit, sorry, Bones."
"That view is somethin' ain't it?"
They ate dinner inside at the small kitchen table before retreating back to the porch to watch the last rays of the sun disappear and the stars begin their twinkle.
"I'm exhausted, Bones. I'm turning in," Jim yawned.
"Right behind you," McCoy made no effort to follow Jim.
He left McCoy sitting on the porch, staring off into the inky black ocean. His bedroom had its own bathroom so he showered and readied himself for bed. There was no noise from the adjacent bedroom indicating it's occupant had not returned.
"Night, Bones," he said to himself and turned off the lights.
###
The sound of gulls squawking and warm light filtering through a part in the curtains pulled him up gently from sleep. Based on the angle of the light it was well into the middle of the morning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep in so late.
He was leaving the bathroom when he noticed a second duffle bag had been placed next to his own in front of the small closet. His warm weather civvies and sandals were in the second bag.
How did these get here?
There was no other noise in the bungalow and he peeked his head out of his room once dressed in swim shorts and a t-shirt.
"Bones?"
There was no reply. He padded to the kitchen to find a plate of breakfast and a data pad waiting on the table for him.
Gone into town for a supply run.
Jim sat heavily into the chair and polished off the plate of eggs and bacon. He was finishing up the dishes when McCoy returned with bags of groceries.
"Look who finally woke up," the bags were placed on the kitchen table and McCoy began unpacking.
"Sorry, Bones. Didn't mean to sleep so late."
"It's fine. There's no schedule around here. I was up early so I went ahead and ran errands."
Jim wanted to ask if he got any sleep at all but kept the question to himself.
"These came from my quarters?" he pulled at the soft cotton shirt.
"Yeah, didn't think you'd want to be sweating your balls off in the jeans and boots you probably brought."
The man was so insightful sometimes it was scary.
"Thanks. So, they uh know where you are?"
"Sent Scotty a comm and the coordinates."
"You realize he's going to tell the whole ship?"
"Not if he's opened the storage locker where I told him he could find the birthday present I had hidden for him."
"Which was?"
"Lagavulin 16."
"Damn, Bones. That's sneaky."
Jim mused that McCoy must've known their engineer wouldn't have left the ship for leave like the others. There was some part of the CMO still in him.
"More fishing today?"
"Found a new spot to try on the way back from town. It's up by the lighthouse."
"Sure."
Jim really didn't want to fish but he didn't know else how to try and reach through to the broken doctor.
"Load the cooler will ya?"
He dutifully packed the old red and white cooler with the new case of beer McCoy had brought and poured a bag of ice over the bottles. The fishing gear and cooler was loaded into the back of the Jeep and the two men climbed into the seats.
"Don't wanna ruin your blues," McCoy handed him a pair of sunglasses after he started the combustion engine.
"Thanks," he slipped the shades on his face.
McCoy backed out onto the road and sent them cruising down the island's main road. Jim couldn't help but smile as the wind tousled his hair on the two mile drive up the island. Everything was just calm and relaxed, the complete opposite of everything ship life was.
I don't know that he'll want to give this up. Should I even ask that of him?
The doctor pulled into a parking spot and set up their fishing gear on the sands near a set of breakers. There was nothing but the sounds of the waves crashing against the stone, the ice in the cooler shifting, and the lines being reeled in for hours.
The persistent silence was putting Jim on edge, "Is this all you've done since you left the ship?"
"Pretty much," McCoy recast his line. "I like it here. It's peaceful. There's no one giving me orders, plenty of fresh air to breathe, and non-replicated food. I could go on and on."
"You don't miss the exploration? Going 'where no one has gone before' and all that?"
"That was your dream, Jim, not mine. I only joined to get away from an ex-wife."
"We're barely over halfway through our five year mission."
"Jim, I'm not Starfleet any more. That's your mission."
Jim refused to take the bait, "Well I'm going in the water. I didn't come all this way to a beach just to look at it."
"Says the kid who packed a leather jacket," McCoy opened a new beer.
Jim couldn't help but roll his eyes when he pulled his shirt over his head. He caught the doctor staring at his chest and looked down. The scars were nothing but a thin white line of skin by now and barely perceptible unless someone looked closely.
"Geoff did a good job," McCoy drained his beer.
"Hurt like a bitch for a while," Jim turned and headed towards the water.
The sand was blistering hot on the soles of his feet but the green water was the perfect temperature. He waded until the water was chest high and was rocking up and down with the waves. One large one came and knocked him off his feet, but he righted himself quickly after it passed.
A beach towel was waiting on his chair once he returned from getting his fill of playing in the water.
"You brat," he heard McCoy mutter after shaking his hair at the older man.
Jim grinned as he opened a beer, "You come all the way to the beach and not go in the water?"
"I'll get in when I have to take a piss," McCoy pulled up a pathetically small fish.
"You're gonna need a few more of those if that's dinner."
"Too small to eat," the fish was tossed back into the water.
"I'd say don't quit your day job, but…"
He didn't mean for that to slip out and sound the way it did.
"Why are you here, Jim?"
"I didn't mean that—"
"Well the cat's out of the bag now. Might as well say whatever it is you came to say and be on your merry way back to that damn ship."
Well here it goes.
"Why did you quit, Bones?"
McCoy took a deep breath, "That last mission was too much. I...I just can't do it anymore."
"Can't do what?"
"They deserve a better doctor for them, one that won't get too attached."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Are you fucking serious?"
"Am I laughing? I knew better than to go after Rao but I couldn't stop myself. And then I dragged your too noble ass into the line of fire. I can't watch another crewmate get injured or killed. I can't watch you try your damn hardest to die on me. I just can't anymore. I'm done."
Jim was quiet during the doctor's emotional tirade.
"Bones, what happened to Rao wasn't your fault."
"No, but what happened to you was. If I had retreated as ordered—"
"I still could've been shot, there's no way to know that."
McCoy's breath hitched, "Jim."
Jim's heart was breaking listening to the defeated friend who'd been with him since that fateful day on the shuttle in Iowa.
"Jim, I had to open your chest on the fucking floor because going to sickbay would've taken too long. I held your un-beating heart in my hands. I can't...I won't go through that ever again."
"Geoff told me how low the survival rates are, even in this century. He said if it had been any other doctor..."
"Pure dumb luck."
"No, Bones. You are the best. Better than the best."
"You sound like a recruiting poster."
There was an awkward silence, only interrupted by the crashing of waves on the beach.
Jim swallowed the lump in his throat, "When I woke up, or tried to wake up, I couldn't remember anything. I still don't remember what happened on that planet. I knew you weren't there and no one would tell me where you were. I don't know how long they let me think you were dead. They finally realized and told me you'd quit. You left without telling me. No 'goodbye', no 'see ya later', nothing. You were just gone."
"The feeling sucks doesn't it? I would know." McCoy seethed. "And for the record, I didn't quit right after. I stayed for three days until I knew Geoff and the girls could handle you."
"'And for the record', I know you kept accessing my medical file while I was still in sickbay. I spent a lot of time looking for the missing vid file and found some pretty interesting things poking through the ship's computer."
The tips of McCoy's ears flushed red, and it wasn't because of the booze or sun.
"Does Spock know a civilian had access to private medical records on a Starfleet vessel? Who helped you do that because I've seen you work a replicator?"
McCoy remained silent, admitting to nothing or throwing any co-conspirators under the bus.
"Bones, you caring so much is what makes you the best. Can you honestly tell me any other doctor would have worked as hard?"
"Plenty of good doctors out there to replace me, Starfleet doesn't take idiots."
But you're the one I want on the ship with us, with me.
"You're not going to budge are you?"
"I'm sorry, Jim."
Jim leaned back in his beach chair unhappy with the lack of progress he made. The man clearly did not want to return.
"You're free to stay as little or as long as you'd like. I'm sorry I was a dick in the way I left but I can't go back."
"I get it, Bones."
###
The rest of the day fishing passed by almost in near silence with occasional requests for more bait or beer. They'd stopped at a seafood shack and ate their dinner at the picnic tables in the grass on their way back to the bungalow. McCoy lit a cigar and headed to the porch to watch the approaching storm cell while Jim went to shower.
It wasn't until he stepped in the steaming water did he realize the error he'd made that day. He hissed as the hot water made contact with his sun burnt skin.
"Mother fu—" he punched the temperature control furiously.
He quickly and delicately finished his shower and patted himself dry. The loose fitting shirt and pajama pants rubbed at his irritated skin.
"Hey, Bones?" he padded to the kitchen holding his shirt away from his body.
"On the table," McCoy puffed his cigar on the other side of the sliding door that had been left ajar.
Jim looked down and saw a bottle of medicated lotion.
"That's just freaky," he pulled the shirt over his head and squirted a generous glob of the cooling lotion into his palm.
"That's what you get for never getting any sun on a starship."
He rolled his eyes and couldn't get the lotion applied fast enough. His back was easily the worst but couldn't reach the inflamed spots.
"Bones," he whined.
"Hold your horses," he heard the crunch of the cigar being stubbed out.
McCoy was not impressed with the splotchy globs of lotion over Jim's back.
"Such an infant," McCoy began smoothing out and working the cream into Jim's red skin.
Jim visibly relaxed as the medication was worked into the tender areas. The doctor's hands were reassuring and steady, just as he remembered. The motion was strictly clinical until he hit the scar from the exit wound and sharp pulses fired from the newly regenerated nerves, causing Jim to flinch.
"Sorry, wasn't paying attention," McCoy's hands didn't move from the pale bundle of fibrous tissue.
Jim reached back and grabbed the now shaking hand. McCoy's hand went limp and he pulled it up to his neck, placing the doctor's fingers where his strong and steady pulse was thumping along. He felt the fingers push into the artery as if trying to reassure themselves what they felt was real.
"I'm alive, Bones. Because of you."
He felt a gust of movement as McCoy moved around to face him. There were tears in his eyes as his fingers ghosted the nearly invisible scar that went from one side of the rib cage to the other. Jim tried not to shiver at the feather light touch on the sensitive nerves.
"I have nightmares about that day, more so than I did after the Khan mess. I've only been able to sleep for a few hours."
This confirmed what Jim had suspected.
"I've probably held dozens of hearts in my hands. Some that were perfect, some hardened by disease, some mangled by phaser fire, but holding yours was just too much... The tear in your left ventricle was so small and you damn near emptied our entire blood bank. But somehow you managed to make it through the rest of the surgery once we got you to sickbay. I came here because the sound of the ocean keeps it from being so quiet. I can still hear the sound of the drill we had to use to pin the bone back together if I forget to focus on the waves. You were so sick those first two days. I don't think anyone slept—"
Jim grabbed the quaking hands and pulled the man into the strongest hug he'd probably ever given in his life. The doctor went limp in his arms and the most pitiful sobs he'd ever heard reverberated into the crook of his neck. He stood there holding the broken man in his arms. A flash of lightning from outside caught his eye before a loud clap of thunder rattled this little bungalow.
They were two stars orbiting each other, spinning round and round each other, coming in close but barely touching. That was until the gravity between them was too much to ignore and they became one. They were always Jim and Bones, and the stellar bridge between them was inseparable.
How can I continue without Bones? Do I even want to be in space without him?
McCoy squeezed tighter and Jim finally understood why this was the straw that broke the camel's back. They had been nearly inseparable for just over six years. The surgeon operated on people for a living, but it was because of him that he broke. There was a reason why doctors didn't take care of their loved ones and McCoy had already dragged his sorry ass back from death once before.
"Oh, Bones," Jim placed a hand into McCoy's shaggy mop of hair.
The sobs quieted down and the man pulled away. McCoy's eyes were red and filled with moisture. Jim took hold of the sides of his face. Brilliant blue eyes locked onto watery hazel ones.
"I can't go back without you, Bones."
"And I can't watch your life slip through my fingers. If I go back there's going to be a day when I fail, and I won't be able to bring you back. I can't..."
Jim knew that he was going to look back and recall that this moment was pivotal in his life. It was time they both accepted that their lives were more intertwined than they had realized.
"How long?"
"I don't know, it wasn't really clear until Altamid and that shit with Krall—"
Jim leaned in and covered the doctor's moving lips with his own. He felt McCoy go rigid but then relax and lean into the kiss.
"Jim?" McCoy finally had to pull back for more air after a few minutes. "Are you sure? This better not be some hair-brained scheme to get me back in that death bucket."
Jim leaned for another kiss to confirm that it wasn't an accident and he really meant it. The storm outside was picking up intensity to match the storm happening inside the bungalow. He pulled McCoy in closer so that their bodies were pressed against each other.
"There's no closing this can of worms once we open it," McCoy broke away.
"Bones, enough with the metaphors," he reengaged.
Jim pulled McCoy down the hall with him.
###
The sound of a soft snore pricked his ears and started his body's cycle to awareness. Warm light was filtering low through the curtains, it was early but he felt more refreshed than he had in months. There was a huff from the lump beside him but it didn't move. Jim carefully peeled off the covers and swung his feet to the floor. He turned behind to see that McCoy hadn't moved a muscle, he was down for the count and finally getting the rest he deserved. Jim stepped into his pajama bottoms and tossed an old t-shirt over his head as he crept to the bathroom.
Once he made it to the kitchen, he opened the sliding door and stepped into the warm sunlight bathing the patio. The air was salty and damp from the rain that had come through during the night. The wooden boards were wet and he didn't have shoes on so he retreated back to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. Of course McCoy wouldn't have settled for replicated coffee so he loaded the ground beans and filled up the small reservoir with water.
The little coffee pot began to gurgle with success and once the carafe filled, he poured two cups, adding two spoonfuls of sugar to one mug. He padded softly back to the bedroom and set the mug with the sugar on McCoy's bedside table before crawling back into his spot. He leaned back on the headboard with his coffee in one hand and his data pad in the other, just like he'd been doing the last several mornings. McCoy had become a late and heavy sleeper all of a sudden so he kept himself busy in bed until the man woke. He tapped away at some ship's business on his data pad and sipped his coffee.
There was one more day before he needed to travel back to the west coast to report as his shore leave ended. Minor repairs they had been putting off had been finished and the ship was resupplied for the next long segment in her journey. McCoy shifted and Jim looked down, they had yet to discuss what this new chapter meant and how things were going to be as the ship left. He didn't want what they finally had to end, and he wasn't sure how everyone was going to get what they wanted out of this.
"If you think any harder you'll give yourself a stroke," McCoy mumbled into the corner of his pillow.
Jim rolled his eyes in that familiar way when the doctor began to nag, "Coffee's ready."
McCoy groaned and pushed himself up against the headboard. He drained half the cup of coffee while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Morning to you too," Jim continued to peck away at his data pad.
"Mornin'."
"It rained again last night."
"Wouldn't know, slept like a baby."
"You're getting lazy in your old age."
"Pot calling the kettle black there, kid."
"Whatever old man. Shake a leg, you can't fish all day if you don't start early."
"Do you even like fishing?" McCoy drained the last of his coffee.
"I don't hate it if that's what you're asking."
"Do you kayak? We could rent a couple and go paddle the intercoastal waterways."
"Wow, you really know how to live on the edge."
Jim received a pillow to his face.
"Well every time you picked the activity we ended up going white water rafting or rock climbing. I like vacationing without getting my pulse up."
"So what was last night?" Jim threw the pillow back to the beet red doctor who was retreating to the bathroom.
###
"So you're not coming with me?" Jim stood in the kitchen with his duffle bags at the door.
McCoy sighed and looked at the tiled floor, "Jim, I don't think you understand."
"So this week was just some fling? I don't want us to be over before we start."
"I don't either, but a little piece of me breaks every time I have to put you back together. This time a lot broke."
"Bones, what we do is dangerous."
"I know, kid, believe me."
"I don't know that I want to be up there without you."
"Of course you do. You're an explorer; it's who you are and what you do. You don't need me holding you back."
"I can ask for a ground posting—"
"I would never let you do that for me."
"I would do it for you, Bones."
"And it's why I'll never ask you to."
Jim was doing his best to keep the water from leaking out of the corner of his eyes as McCoy closed the distance and put a comforting hand on the back of his neck.
"This isn't the life for you, fishing every day. Doing nothing but sitting in a beach chair soaking up the sun and beer."
"That isn't your life either, Bones," Jim pulled away while he had some resolve and grabbed his bags.
The bungalow's hinged door closed with a satisfying thud. He tossed his bags in the back of his rental and floored the accelerator down the road and away from McCoy.
###
Jim sat on the corner of his bed in a daze. The past two days went by in a blur. He had returned his rental and took a commercial shuttle flight back to San Francisco where he retrieved some things from his apartment and returned to his ship. Everyone knew he returned without McCoy and left him alone as he holed himself up in his quarters to sulk. The others would come and knock to see if he wanted food or company but he turned them away with various excuses.
"Bridge to Kirk."
"Yeah," he spoke despondently into his comm.
"The ship's ready for departure as soon as the new doc boards."
"Copy. Any ETA for arrival?" he had yet to see the crewmember's file hit his inbox and it was grating his nerves that Starfleet was waiting so late and he wouldn't get a final say in who it was.
"Any minute from what I understand. Coming by shuttle. Commander Spock is en route now."
"On my way."
He groaned and pulled himself off his bed. His feet were heavy as they took him to the shuttle bay.
"Captain," the Vulcan was as rigid as ever in front of the viewing window to the depressurized bay.
"Hey, Spock," he came up beside his first officer.
"I trust your shore leave was restful? Your complexion is noticeably darker."
"Yeah, I was out in the sun a lot. What about you?"
"Nyota and I spent a majority of the time with her family in Africa. I found the climate to be much more agreeable than California."
"Shuttle 4 you are cleared for Enterprise airspace," the traffic controller's voice echoed throughout the cavernous bay.
"Am I late?" Uhura skidded to a stop next to Spock.
"Shouldn't you be on the Bridge?"
"So? What if I want to see who it is?"
"Oi, am I late?" Scotty appeared from behind.
"Anyone else want to come be nosy?" Jim groused.
He wanted to be anywhere rather than where he was as he watched the shuttle come through the massive aft doors and back into a docking station. It would take a few minutes for the shuttle to empty and it's passengers make their way up to them. Jim lost interest as the usual cluster of last arrivals filtered past the senior officers with their bags and gear.
"Dammit man, at least make yourself useful and grab these."
His heart skipped a beat; he'd know that voice anywhere. The irascible doctor with a heart of pure gold emerged from the corridor in his blue tunic with the silver braids at his wrist. Jim noticed he still had his lieutenant commander stripes. The man was clean-shaven and his hair was trimmed and back in the style he usually wore it. Uhura gasped and Scotty swore. Jim was absolutely gobsmacked and struggled to make any kind of sound when McCoy stopped in front of the welcome party.
"Welcome aboard, Doctor."
"Sorry I'm cuttin' it close, damn Starfleet and their red tape."
"How?" Uhura asked first.
"Damnedest thing happened when I tried to comm Admiral Donaldson to grovel for my commission and job back. Turns out somehow my resignation form got sent in to the Medical Corps as an extended leave request."
"How could that happen'?" Scotty was equally confused.
"With the Captain in sickbay, Spock would have…" Uhura covered her mouth as the realization struck her. "Spock, what did you do?"
"My apologies, Doctor McCoy, I must have made a clerical error."
Jim was still standing there dumbfounded. McCoy moved to stand in front of him and snapped to attention.
"Permission to come aboard, Captain."
He was both furious and elated, "Granted. Welcome aboard, Doctor."
McCoy eased his stance, "Thanks."
"How?" Jim asked quietly.
"I took a shuttle, you trained in ship design you should know how it works."
Jim finally cracked a smile, "Asshole. You know I mean 'why'."
"You left lookin' all pathetic and I couldn't leave you on this tin can alone."
His CMO pulled him into a crushing hug as a lump formed in his throat; he was doing his damnedest not to get teary eyed in front of his crew.
"I'm sorry, Jim," he whispered in his ear.
"You can't leave me again, Bones."
"Only if you don't try and leave me."
Jim's only reply was taking in a deep breath of McCoy's aftershave.
"C'mon, we have a ship to get underway."
"Aye, aye, Captain."
They pulled apart smiling. Uhura had her eyebrow arched at the two of them. Jim gave her a quick smirk before he grabbed McCoy's face and pulled it closer to his, pressing his lips to the stunned doctor's.
"Ugh, finally," Uhura scoffed before dragging Spock and Scotty away from the scene with her.