AN: Thank you for reading! :)
They bit.
Of course, they had to be quadruplets who bit. Their tiny alien tongues were purple, an intense lavender to match their pink tears. The mother, weak on a biobed, took the last baby in the free arm of her four.
"Will they be alright, Doctor McCoy?"
Bones forced himself to project a reassuring smile.
"There's one last seat on this pod. It's very special. Don't you worry."
And of course the refugee mother had to give birth not an hour before they were bombed out of the sky. All his patients had been loaded and he allowed himself a sigh for that.
Pushing the biobed into the north loading dock, Bones helped the mother through the pod door. Bones took each baby from the mother—ouch!—and strapped them into the only free—yow!—seat.
"Why can I not hold them for the flight?"
Bones sucked a laceration on his knuckles. He swallowed. His hand gripped the seatbelt.
I love you, Jo. Daddy is doing this for you.
Aloud, he said, "There's a five mile radius debris field. One hit or bump and those young 'uns 'll go flying, no matter how hard you hold on. Good luck. Take time to watch 'em grow, alright? They shoot up too fast."
Bones set the launch code and stepped out into the hall.
The mother snared his arm. "What about you?"
This time, the smile that softened Bones' face was real. He tweaked the nose of a newborn—the only one not wailing.
"I'll be alright," Bones replied.
He pulled the lever and the pod doors hissed shut. Seamless. One hand hovered over the manual thruster. Bones, with an odd sort of chuckle, punched it. The last life pod on the starship Enterprise roared away. The automated alarm and message silenced. There was no one to warn but him anyway.
Bones didn't really feel his shoes upon the floor in his aimless trek through the ship. Bones didn't know where he was headed. He only knew that the ghost ship, this flying metal death trap, was to be his coffin. A laugh bubbled up again. He passed sleeping quarters, the kitchen, the viewport.
Bones came out of his trance like state when hazy lights sparked overhead. He blinked. Blinked again.
The bridge.
He supposed it wasn't surprising he came here for his last minutes. The captain's chair sat empty but still Bones smiled. This was his home, not the medbay.
They were his home.
Bones didn't recognize that his laughing had turned to tears until a few landed between his teeth and he tasted salt.
"Doctor?"
Bones whirled.
Russian navigator and cranky southern doctor stared at each other. Chekov's eyes only did a quick swipe to the wet on either side of Bones' cheeks. The boy's slack jaw closed. The ship groaned. Bones felt it tearing apart by the shudder in his marrow.
"I…" Chekov seemed the opposite of Bones, hardly blinking. "They're all gone, aren't they? I mean, the evacuation notice suddenly выключить and there aren't any life pods in the north dock, anyway, and…"
Bone's brain could not compute, even the slightest bit, that this curly-haired, tiny teen was not safe aboard a life vessel. Why he stood there, hands wringing, shirt torn, looking for all the world like someone had murdered his puppy.
Chekov's eyes blew wider, if possible, and a smear of soot marred his ashen forehead. He still refused to blink. Pliers poked through his front pocket and for a moment Bones only saw a child playing dress up.
"Doctor?" Concern flashed across the young features.
A hiccupping sound escaped Bone's lips. Without his conscious input, driven by impulse and the dissolution of his hope that some things were still right in the world—he wrapped burly arms around Chekov and yanked him to his chest. He had to bend slightly to reach the boy.
Stiff with surprise, Chekov caved into the broad torso. Bones' arms wrapped so far around the sharp set of ribs that his hands met at the boy's belly button.
Bones swore. Grief had nearly starved the young Russian and none of them even noticed.
Bones felt a light pat on his spine. "Zhere, zhere, Doctor."
He almost laughed.
But when Chekov finally unthawed, fingers clenching Bones' shirt in such a steel grip that Bones grunted, the navigator couldn't hide his tremors. They ran up and down the bony back in Bones' arms. He bundled Chekov tighter. A cold nose met the crook of his neck.
"I'm so sorry," Bones whispered.
"It's alright."
"No it's not," growled Bones. "No mother…or father…should be given the news that their child isn't coming…is…"
Chekov gave a wet, very bitter, laugh into Bones' shirt. Then he was silent. Too silent. Bones frowned. Before he could speak, Chekov, still shaking, slurred a few words that stopped Bones' heart.
"I have no family left. No one on Earth awaits my return."
It was Bones' turn to stiffen. "Look, kid, I know you took your grandmother's death pretty hard—"
"No, you don't understand." Chekov stepped back, but Bones refused to relinquish a hold on each shoulder. "My grandparents raised me after my parents…after… Then Grandpapa died vhen I was young teen—"
You still are a young teen, Pavel.
"—And now that Babushka, my grandmother, is gone I…my guardianship was given to Starfleet."
Tears threaded down Pavel's cheeks—Bones' too—but the lad squared his stance, eyes up, and Bones had never seen something so noble.
"I do this for them," said Chekov. "Just as I do not live in fear, I will not die in fear."
Bones was suddenly grateful that Chekov had his back to the hall. A figure came running in from some upper room, caught sight of them.
And halted.
Sound muted. Jim's eyes went much like Chekov's, unblinking.
The slow roar of fire that contorted Jim's face, however, was terrifying. Bones had never been scared of James T. Kirk before, but he was in that moment. Utterly cowed.
Lingering underneath the fury flickered a growing horror. Jim had heard every word and it turned him to stone.
Jim's eyes remained on Chekov, and Bones knew he too was trying to make sense of the unnatural image.
Chekov turned. Bones kept one hand at the nape of his neck. Jim swore, every colourful expletive he knew until Pavel jumped and Bones gave Jim a warning look.
The three men stared. No one spoke for a long stretch.
Bones tried to count his heartbeats but soon lost track. He felt Pavel's pulse under his fingertips and it shocked the doctor how slow it was. Kirk glanced at Bones, devastated, and shook his head.
"I thought we cleared engineering," said Jim. "I thought you were safe, 'Vel."
Bones felt Jim's pain—the youngest life aboard the Enterprise, not counting four chomping newborns, was the one they'd missed, the one who had been abandoned. It went against every sense of moral justice Bones held dear.
"And what are you still doing here?" Jim demanded. He flailed an arm in Bones' direction.
"I could ask you the same thing," Bones retorted.
Jim rotated one shoulder, defensive. "Captain always goes down with the ship. What's your excuse?"
It was so petulant Bones almost laughed. Instead he held up his bruised hand, the one not fixed on Pavel. "Bioctogorns have a full set of teeth at birth, you know that?"
Jim's gaze melted into something fond so fast it made Bones' heart skip a beat. "The pregnant mother?"
Bones nodded.
"You gave up your CMO seat. Selfless git. You really are an old fashioned hero."
Bones rolled his eyes.
Chekov clutched at Jim's sleeve. "Did the engineers get out okay? Mr. Scott…?"
"I can vouch for Scotty," said Bones. "He went in the medical pods with my other patients."
Chekov sagged with relief.
"Pavel." Jim's face fell. "They all got out except for one man, McKnight, I think his name was. We found his body near the blast sight. And, well, you…"
He didn't finish that thought at another of Bones' glares. Chekov's skin quivered under Bones' hand.
"I worked the rest of his shift in the warp core's circuitry." Pavel's voice was so hushed that both men leaned closer. "It's my fault."
"Pasha," Jim whispered. "I'm so sorry that we failed you. That must be why we missed you in the sweep through engineering."
Each had to brace against a nearby chair when the bridge lurched. Bones ached for these people that had become his family on this stupid ship that had been bombed by stupid terrorists. The ship would crack apart, sucking them into an endless vacuum.
He cleared his throat with a gruff cough. "I couldn't think of two better people to spend my last…to be with at all, really."
"Don't be silly, doctor." Pavel smiled and the lurid sight made the older men stare. "Life doesn't end here. We'll be together soon."
With a choked cry, Bones hugged him again. Dimly, he was aware of something soaking the front of his uniform. Chekov sobbed quietly.
Bones caught Jim's eye. The captain still looked irate—Bones expected nothing less—but the apology in his gaze didn't fit.
"I made my choice," Bones argued. "Even you couldn't have stopped me."
Jim nodded. In unison, their eyes drifted to a mop of curls mushed in Bones' chest. Bones' eyes darkened.
Pavel never had a choice at all.
When outright fear blossomed over Jim, then Bones was truly spooked.
"Bones!" his friend snapped. "Why didn't you get one of those biobeds?"
"Are you out of your mind, Jim? I'm not injured. Why would I—"
Jim pointed to Bones' chest. The doctor gasped. A crimson patch spread over his pristine white uniform. It took a second, but something clicked that Pavel wasn't sobbing.
Bones held Pavel at arm's length. Coughing wracked his frame.
Chekov's eyes rolled back.
Jim was at Pavel's side in an instant. He caught the youth when he crumpled. The intense coughing brought something pink and foamy to Chekov's tongue. It spilled over his chin. Jim and Bones eyed the dark stain disguised by Pavel's red shirt.
When Pavel stopped coughing, they flinched into action.
Maybe it was selfish, but Bones laid Pavel on the floor and pumped at faltering lungs. The boy's respiratory system refused to take another breath.
"Bones! It's not working!"
Bones tapped at Pavel's cheek. "Chekov, stay with me. Did you inhale anything? Were you hit?" His shaking hands scrabbled over a skinny torso.
A beat.
"Pasha?" Jim whispered.
Bones' professional veneer shattered. He bowed his head.
Not so soon! Not yet!
Jim was shrieking something over the creaks of the ship when Pavel finally opened his eyes. The older men sobbed with relief. The navigator had to roll his eyes around, wild, before they landed on Bones.
Utter peace swelled in Pavel's eyes. Bones, surprised he could elicit such a reaction from the teen, placed a hand on his cheek.
"Pavel?"
"Smoke f…filled the-the circuit shaft," said Pavel, "and the board hit m…my ch-chest. Squeezed me."
Sure enough, several ribs near Pavel's sternum shifted under Bones' hands. Ribs near Pavel's lungs. A puncture. Pavel was drowning in his own blood.
Bones froze. There was absolutely nothing he could do. To run to the medbay would mean precious minutes. To save the boy's lungs was a temporary fix.
The doctor began to tremble.
Jim, the only one standing, reached for the back of the captain's chair.
"I'm so sorry, Pasha," Jim said. "So sorry."
Pavel's lashes fluttered. His bloody dimples lifted. "It has been an honour serving under you, sir."
Jim clasped Pavel's hand. "At ease. See you soon."
Bones could barely see Pavel through a blurry film.
"D…doctor?"
"Pavel?"
"Is…" The boy licked foam from his teeth. "Is the chair's s-screen ssstill working?"
Jim understood first. The small view screen in the captain's chair displayed what lay ahead at all times, a direct feed to the stars. The power flickered, but this lonely camera still operated.
Jim hooked his arms under Pavel's knees and hoisted him to sit in the chair. When he couldn't sit up without falling, Bones rose.
Pavel weighed little more than Jo, Bones thought upon lifting the youth. He sat in the chair, Pavel's back against his chest. Pavel relaxed at seeing the stars. Jim stood, a silent vigil behind them. When Pavel dug at his chest, Bones covered the slippery hand with his own.
"You're so brave. So brave…"
Bones wept over birthdays that would never be, the fact that now he would never get that curly cloud tamed, never get married, never see his first gray hair or laugh about misadventures or regale grandkids about 'that selfless idiot James T. Kirk,' never see more of these stupid stars he dreamt of so much…
The doctor's tears landed in that infernal mop. He stilled Pavel's pained twitches and closed his eyes. The grinding of metal upon metal increased in volume.
He thought abruptly of the Bioctogorn mother, one quadruplet under each arm. A hand squeezed his shoulder. Bones nodded. All was still over the captain's chair.
Thus, it came as no small blow when Pavel jerked upright. "The warp core!"
"Easy, easy," soothed Bones. "What about it? We can't beam anywhere. All our systems are offline."
"I kn-kn-know—that's it! The electrical chamber is b-built to withstand the pppressure of space sh-should the core become dislodged from the ship!"
Jim knelt in front of Pavel, hands on the arm rest. He held the navigator's eyes, his own intense, even when Pavel coughed. "Are you positive? Can it be dislodged manually, like the pods?"
Pavel panted. "No. B-b-but the radiation chamber can, in…in case the core ever blows or c-contaminates…the whole ship."
Bones and Jim moved as one.
Bones slung Pavel's arm over his shoulder, the other around the youth's waist. Jim darted so fast that Bones didn't even see him sprint away. He emerged from the medbay when Pavel and Bones shuffled past. Pavel's feet dragged, scrabbling for desperate purchase, and he was slick with sweat and blood, but boy did he ever move. Bones worried at his level of alertness.
Jim carried a breathing tube, the one with a suction setting, and an oxygen tank.
He led them on a marathon through the ship. Down, down, down, down. Outrunning physics itself. Outrunning death.
Bones wanted to snap at Jim to slow down but he was too focused on keeping Pavel upright. Several times the lad murmured something. Bones never caught the feverish words.
They made it to engineering.
The warp core surged up before them. To Jim's credit, he only balked for a heartbeat before punching the code to open the glass divider. Their captain grabbed Pavel and draped him inside.
A cruel grinding erupted at Bones' back.
"Jim!"
The very floor bucked and frayed. It threw Bones to his knees. Looking up, Bones spotted Jim on his side.
"Jim!"
Bones lurched into a beeline that would have made an athlete impressed. Snatching Jim underneath the armpits, Bones backpedaled. They made it to the radiation chamber.
"Bnnnss…"
"I gotcha, you loon."
Bones turned Pavel onto his side in the recovery position so his lungs drained. Next he ran for the medical equipment.
Glancing behind, Bones forgot to breathe. He bolted into the chamber and slammed the emergency lock.
Not a second later—
The Enterprise floor ripped away to reveal a black curtain, dotted with nearby galaxies. Bones would be lying if he said this wasn't the single, most terrifying thing he had ever witnessed.
The starship crackled apart. Its pieces dotted a gravity debris belt of steel shards and titanium thrusters.
Jim sat up. The chamber detached and all went silent. Bones closed his eyes and funneled great gulps of air.
Not today. You don't get us today. Bones placed a hand over his mouth. A wave of emotion, all adrenaline and disbelief, suffocated him.
"Nice catch," said Jim.
"Shut up." Bones offered his first smile of the day. Just a little one, crinkled at the edges. "And you're welcome."
Jim sighed. He tracked their endless path through the velvety black with a pleased gleam.
"Isn't it beautiful?"
"Oh no," huffed Bones. "It's that kind of enthusiasm that nearly got this whiz kid killed."
Jim turned to Pavel. "How is he?"
"Not well," Bones admitted. "The limited oxygen in this compartment worries me most."
"We should receive help soon," said Jim, watching Bones insert the tube into Pavel's lung. "I sent out distress signals not a minute after the blasts."
"I think the blood looks worse than it is, more smoke scarring and tracheal tears."
Jim nodded, though Bones suspected he understood little of this.
"He saved our lives," said Jim. His fingers settled in the bronzy coils of hair. "I hope he'll wake to let me thank him."
Without proper electricity, the suction tube only eliminated dribbles of syrupy blood from Pavel's lung. Jim and Bones exhaled at seeing the blue tinge flee Pavel's lips.
"Here you go, son. New tank just for you." Bones switched the setting. Fresh oxygen lifted Pavel's chest up and down. "Wouldn't be here without you."
They adjusted Pavel so he wasn't cramped. There was just enough room for Jim and Bones to sit with their knees bent, Pavel's head in Jim's lap and his feet near Bones. Jim's blinks became longer as he stroked Pavel's hair.
"No going to sleep," Bones rumbled.
"What? I just saved our sorry butts and you won't let me sleep?"
The chamber was small enough that Bones could reach over and tap Jim's forehead. "You might have a concussion from the blast. I didn't miss your slurring back there. Neither of us can doze until we know for sure."
Jim whined a few minutes longer, but soon fell quiet. Bones felt a wicked headache brewing. For now, he was thankful to listen to the even breathing, Pavel's soft puffs shallower than he liked.
Bones had no way to track the passing of time. However, somewhere around what felt like two hours, Pavel's breathing changed. Jim, hand on Pavel's chest, felt it first.
"Pasha?" he breathed.
Bones sat up.
Jim cast him a worried look. "Is he okay?"
Bones lifted Pavel's eyelid. Then he felt for a pulse and checked the oxygen levels.
"Bones?"
The doctor chuckled. "Don't worry, Jim. He's finally sleeping. Graduated from unconsciousness to real rest."
"That's good, I guess," said Jim, unwinding. "He's still making noises, though."
"Noises?" Bones shifted closer.
Sure enough, Bones heard the whimpers. The boy sweated even in sleep. Bones itched to hold him. He blinked, surprised by the urge. He thought of Jo and had to look away.
"Nightmares," he said. "What I'd like to do if I got my paws around those terrorists…"
"Easy, Pasha," Jim soothed. "You're alright."
But nothing they did helped. The boy was too drained to wake up and no physical contact calmed him.
Jim spied a blue band sticking out of Pavel's trouser pocket. "Uhura's gift! Aha!" He brandished the headphones in triumph.
Bones frowned. "Really? We're waiting for Federation help and you're snooping his music tastes?"
"Hey, if we're going to die—"
"Jim, we're not even twelve hours from Earth. They'll be here any minute. Our conditions are stable."
"—Then I want to go down knowing the truth about what Chekov listens to on this thing."
"It's probably just some Russian folk music or something," said Bones.
Jim ticked through the player. He selected an album at random. For a moment there was no sound. Then Jim thumbed the volume higher. He set the headphones on Pavel's chest so it could be heard in the chamber. The first song began.
Jim's jaw fell open. Bones choked in amazement.
"Blackbird singin' in the dead of night…"
The ancient Earth tune played on. Birds twittered in the background. The effect was so absurd, they could only gawk.
"A Beatles fan," Bones breathed. "Well I'll be."
"…Take these sunken eyes and learn to see."
And suddenly Jim was cackling, laughing so hard that he snorted. Which, of course, only made him laugh harder. The endless giggling loop settled after a minute.
Bones shook his head. They squirmed until shoulder-to-shoulder. The warmth of Pavel across Bones' knees and sounds of guitar strumming lulled him into something that might have been contentment.
The world felt like it had stopped. Or, Bones wondered, maybe they had simply stepped outside of its asinine spinning to just be. Bones thought he could get used to this.
And, wonder of wonders, Pavel stilled. His breathing deepened.
"Good lad," Bones said around a sigh.
"Who says lad anymore?"
"Shut up, Jim."
"You're an antique."
"And you're an impulsive brat," Bones retorted. They laughed again, shaky and a touch hysterical.
"I'm sorry about the ship," Bones whispered.
Jim's chin nodded against his chest. His eyes closed. "She wasn't really what I liked about the ship anyway. Not the real treasure…"
The song switched.
"Sounds of laughter, shades of life, are ringing through my open ears."
Bones watched the captain and knew there was something he was supposed to tell him, but his mind grew fuzzy. Why wasn't he allowed to close his eyes again?
"Nothing's gonna change my world, nothing's gonna change my world."
Eons may have passed. It could have been only a breath. Bones didn't realize he'd drifted off until a searing light pierced his eyelids. He lifted a shielding arm. Something pounded against the glass.
There was some commotion while the Starfleet rescue team—with the addition of a weeping, frantic Uhura—tried to create a bridge from the rescue ship to their floating radiation chamber.
Bones and Jim, if the light and noise didn't wake them, were jolted to awareness by the glass punching in. They ducked the sharp fragments. Bones nearly passed out in relief seeing the connecting tunnel.
The commotion reached a flurry when the team got a close up view of the trio. It occurred to Bones for the first time that all three were coated in Pavel's blood. Hands patted at his hair, torso, and under his jaw. Bones, for once, didn't protest.
He did, however, refuse to let Pavel be parted from his eye line. His exhausted legs wouldn't hold his weight and he let himself be strapped onto a stretcher. Jim was already out.
"Well done," Bones murmured. He reached for the youth. Uhura guided Bones' hand to Pavel's shoulder. "Well done."
"Limitless, undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on across the universe…"
Bones gave in to the dark with a smile.
"Nothing's gonna change my world."
Written in 2015.