Author's Note: Hi, guys! I'm sorry I am such a slow writer these days! At least I managed to update a few days shy of three weeks. ;) It took me awhile, mainly because I tried something different. Also, the story demands extra attention that is hard to come by right now. So, I backtracked for the first scene, to give you McCoy's POV. It's the first time I've EVER done anything like this. I was going to only go back so far to get into the scene better, and then it kept creeping back even more. So I decided to just go with it! Part of the first scene is new, the second one is completely new.
The first scene is in McCoy's POV and starts when McCoy and Jojo are waiting for Jim in the living room. That scene was written from Jim's POV at the end of the last chapter. HUGE Pike feels in this one, and a few things may be sensitive/triggery since we are dealing with Jim coming to grips with stuff post-warp core.
I have been learning quite a bit from the lovely, talented MissBAMF, who is an awesome, dedicated beta, by the way. I actually prefer to call her something else, since she is a true friend, helping me out of the goodness of her heart. Maybe "esteemed writing tutor." Something like that. :) I'm very thankful for her.
To all who are reading and commenting - I greatly appreciate each and every review so much! I honestly get so inspired when you review...Keeps me going! Thank you!
And to Frog (whose review I couldn't respond to officially): Thank you for your kind review. It made me smile. :) And I hope I didn't take "too" long for this update! HA!
Hope you all enjoy the chapter! I imagine my next update will be 2-3 weeks again. If I'm lucky, maybe right at 2 weeks. Thank you SO much for your patience! :)
oOo
And If I Stand Next To You
Chapter 5
(i can't pretend) though i like to try
oOo
McCoy was certain time the peach tree sapling in his mama's backyard had grown two meters since he'd last seen Jim. Time stretched on and McCoy worried, wondering if Nora was moving him along as planned or if Jim even had the energy now to progress to the living room. His mama had promised to come get him if Jim needed him. So far, he'd heard nothing. All he could do was wait.
Time seemed to operate as it always had for everyone else, or at least it did for his small assistant.
Jojo didn't appear to mind waiting at all.
"Daddy, I think I'll read one of my favorite books to Uncle Jim," she chattered, fluffing Jim's pillow. "It's short, only twenty-four pages long, so I don't think he'll fall asleep when I read. Do you?"
McCoy's lips twitched up. "No, I don't think he would."
"You really think so?" Jojo paused and stared up at him, trusting that he'd give her the answer she wanted to hear.
Luckily, he could. "Yes, and he'd like whatever book you choose to read him, Jojo," McCoy added quietly. Jim literally liked anything Jojo liked, within reason.
She smiled, content with his reply. While she retrieved her book from the schoolbag she'd placed by the chair, McCoy looked down at the alert on his PADD. He'd sent Spock a brief note on Jim's progress only a few minutes ago. Early in his recuperation, Jim had given McCoy permission to tell Spock anything and everything about his medical progress if it was important and would help morale. The information he'd sent Spock may not necessarily help morale at this time, but it was damn important.
It didn't surprise McCoy that Spock replied so promptly.
Doctor McCoy, I am dismayed to hear that Jim experienced additional adverse side effects to this week's drug therapy. My concern for his comfort and health are relieved to some degree, however, in knowing that you are acting in the captain's best interests. If there is anything that I can do to assist both you and Jim, do not hesitate to ask.
In regards to your other question, Doctor McCoy, I have no other engagements today. I will be awaiting Jim's call.
McCoy had wanted to make sure the commander was aware that Jim wanted to speak with him later. Not speak, of course, but see Jim when Jim used the new PADD McCoy brought along with them to Georgia. Now that McCoy knew Spock was free today, he could go through with his plan without worrying. He could just imagine Jim's reaction if he tried to contact Spock only to find him too busy. Jim didn't need that kind of disappointment. McCoy had a feeling Spock had cleared his entire damn day for the chance to speak with Jim.
McCoy felt a tug at his shirt. Frowning, he glanced down.
"Daddy, you weren't listenin'," Jojo complained. She sighed exasperatedly, peering up at him.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," McCoy said, offering her a smile. "I was reading a message from Mister Spock."
"Is he coming to visit, too?" Her eyes danced with excitement.
McCoy rubbed his jaw, hating to let her down. "Well, no..."
"Why not?"
"He has things to do while Uncle Jim is recuperating," McCoy said.
"Oh," her brow furrowed. "Like taking care of Uncle Jim's ship?"
"Some, yes," McCoy nodded, returning to Spock's message to type a reply.
"Well, then I better help Uncle Jim get better faster. Maybe we can watch a movie?" she continued excitedly.
McCoy's fingers stilled. He gave her a sideways glance, catching the gleam in her eye. A movie. Like old times.
But then he envisioned the hollow look to Jim's eyes lately, matching his thin frame, and the things they'd center their conversation around, Pike no longer one of them. He imagined Jojo diving into a bowl of popcorn and Jim, hands under a blanket, avoiding food he couldn't stomach. He imagined someday, maybe even a few months from now, not able to even talk to Jojo, thanks to Jocelyn, and telling Jim that he couldn't, either.
No, not like old times.
But, perhaps out of the three of them, Jojo was up to making new times, new memories.
"Maybe," he paused, making an effort to smile at her. "I'm sure that whatever you and Uncle Jim decide to do today will be perfect."
Jojo skipped away happily, going back to her work. She still wasn't bothered by the eternity passing as she set Jim's water bottle on the stand by the chair, or she'd be staring at the other side of the room like McCoy kept doing. McCoy sighed and pulled himself out of his self-pity.
He finished his reply to Spock and double-checked his messages for a response from Admiral Archer. He had almost everything finalized, he merely needed the go-ahead from Archer to keep Jim here in Atlanta. Jim's therapists were already on board and willing to make trips to Georgia for the next several weeks, but McCoy wouldn't mention it to Jim until it was official.
Just when he was thinking about knocking on the bedroom door, Jim appeared at the edge of the room. McCoy straightened, holding himself back when Jim's tired eyes fixated on the brightest spot there was—Jojo.
It was understandable, the love between those two a force of its own. Maybe Jojo would be just what Jim needed today to keep healing, especially after what McCoy soon wanted to share with Jim.
Jim walked forward, almost hesitant in his steps but the steps themselves stronger than yesterday's. McCoy wasn't worried about Jim making it to the chair on his own until Jojo made a beeline for Jim.
His heart jolted. Jim wasn't strong enough for Jojo's exuberance and energy. "Jojo," McCoy warned as Jojo dashed away.
Jim's shoulders snapped to like a taut fishing line. McCoy hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but it wouldn't do if Jim was plowed over before he had a chance to breathe.
Jojo halted in her tracks just before she slammed into the sick man. Her back was to McCoy, but by the way her hands formed small fists, he could imagine the intensity in which she was taking in Jim's appearance.
"You really are ski—" she began.
Dammit, that wasn't something he wanted Jim to be reminded of. Not now. "Jojo!" McCoy interjected.
The air thickened. When Jim's face grew pained, McCoy wished he hadn't been forced to shout, causing the man undue stress.
"Sorry," Jojo whispered. "Uncle Jim, can I touch you?"
Jojo plastered herself against Jim, giving him no chance to deny her love. McCoy couldn't help but smile a little when her arms snaked around Jim's waist. That was his girl.
Jim blinked, looking out of sorts, but brought his arms around Jojo just like he would have on any other day.
"You're here," Jojo whispered, head tipped back to look up at Jim. "I couldn't wait to see you. Me and my daddy and Nana will take care of you."
Jim's eyes warmed as he stared down at her, but McCoy could see Jim teetering on his feet from here. McCoy signaled his mother with a shake of his head that Jim had to get moving.
"Jojo, sweetheart," Nora urged, voice firm. "Let James get to this chair, now."
"Okay," Jojo agreed, sounding small.
McCoy restrained himself from coming to Jim's aid. Jim hardly had any independence lately, so it was the least he could do, giving him a chance to spread his wings. Jim walked across the room, steadier on his feet than expected, looking straight at the empty chair the entire damn time.
In fact, McCoy could easily see that Jim was trying very hard not to look at him at all.
Jim wouldn't look at him, and it all pointed McCoy's abrupt departure from the bathroom.
It began to dawn on McCoy that he'd left Jim in the bathroom, alone, thinking about why he'd left him, about why McCoy never came back and sent his mother, instead.
McCoy took a closer look at Jim, noting that his expression resembled that of a kicked puppy.
So this was what it felt like to be scum, the lowest of the low. He'd thought Jim had needed time, maybe some space. Clearly, McCoy should have tried harder to go back for Jim.
Like he always did.
Just like Jim needed someone to.
McCoy sank lower, if that was even possible. Dammit, how could he have been so stupid? Jim's sensitivity to things like that was beyond what was normal. It always had been and McCoy suspected that would never change. Jim's mother never returned for him, Sam left, never to come back, and now...McCoy could easily be lumped together right along with others who'd abandoned him.
At a time like this, when everything was so tedious for Jim, something as simple as sending Nora to help him instead with his bath would convey the same message.
True, McCoy had Jojo to care for, but his mom would have watched her for him. Granted, Jojo might have told Jocelyn that her Daddy hadn't spent much time with her, Jojo herself perhaps feeling hurt, but this was Jim. McCoy simply hadn't gone back for him, end of story.
Because Jojo was in the room now, McCoy didn't have the privacy he'd need to talk to Jim. McCoy absolutely hated that he'd have to wait.
But...maybe there something else he could do to show Jim he was sorry. What, McCoy had no idea. At least, not yet.
Eyes unsurprisingly averted, Jim made his way to where McCoy stood. McCoy could tell just tell by the way Jim held himself that the man was using the catheter. He made a mental note to check Jim's bag within the hour. Or, he thought quickly, his mother would. There'd be no reason to add to the awkwardness Jim was already experiencing.
Once Jim reached the chair, he glanced up at McCoy, eyes more vulnerable than ever.
"This chair is good for anything, Jim. Sleeping, too," McCoy explained, words stilted. "It will recline if you'd rather stay out here instead of going back to the bedroom when you're tired," he added, hoping that Jim would elect to stay out in the living room.
It would do him good. But it would do them all a lot of good just seeing Jim up and around.
As Jim settled into the seat, McCoy forced himself to pause and focus on Jim rather than go through the motions. He adjusted Jim's pillow, smoothed a blanket over him, and planned in his own head what he'd say to Jim later. Before McCoy stood back, he couldn't help but adjust the pillow again. With his eyes closed, Jim had actually appeared peaceful through the whole thing.
Maybe McCoy was doing something right.
"Daddy," Jojo whispered. "You forgot somethin'."
McCoy doubted that. No. Not with Jim like this.
"Nana's pancakes," she added, looking almost irritated with him, just like her mother would be if he'd forgotten breakfast. "Can we ask Uncle Jim if he wants one now?"
"Oh," McCoy said, shaking his head at himself. Leave it to Jojo to think of everything that had to do with her Uncle Jim. McCoy didn't know how he'd forgotten, but sure enough, he had. "Right."
McCoy's stomach rumbled. Nora's pancakes melted in your mouth, especially when there was fruit drizzled on top. But as much as he liked them, someone else like them even better—Jim. Today though, sadly, Jim probably wouldn't even try to eat one.
Jim's weight would soon be a bigger problem if there was no improvement with his appetite after today. And, if McCoy had to go another day with Jim Kirk eating pickier than a hen, he would confine himself in a room. As dramatic as it sounded, it would be better for everyone if he dealt with his frustration and anxiety alone, in a way that didn't involve destroying something.
Like the time he had destroyed his office, Jim looking like he wasn't going to make it that first week he'd been in a coma.
And in a way that also didn't involve excessive drinking, because the present issue with Jocelyn alone was trying enough to send him back to the bottle. Things with her always had in the past. Before the divorce, his issues with Jocelyn had driven him into a sort of madness of his own making, alcohol being more than pleasant company when she'd kicked him to the couch and then, later, out of the house.
Jim's aversion to food simply had to stop. The next round of treatment would induce the same lack of appetite. If Jim ate well for at least four days before then, McCoy would worry a hell of a lot less.
Remembering that Jim was still waiting, McCoy cleared his throat. He didn't expect Jim to agree, but he'd ask, anyway. "Jim, Jojo is a bit worried that you're going to...miss out. I'm sure you heard what she said, so I won't pester you and ask twice."
It was a miracle when Jim held up his right index finger. McCoy couldn't believe it.
"Good," McCoy said, shoulders sagging in relief. It was better than good. One pancake was better than none, was better than broth, but only if Jim could keep it down. "I know you asked for your comm, but it'd be impossible for you to use it, at least for today."
McCoy hesitated as he pulled a device out from a bag beside the chair. This was a lot for Jim, but the only way he could really communicate with anyone while he was without a voice.
Even before he lifted it out of the bag, Jim's eyes widened with anticipation. And no wonder. The screen was bigger, as was the keyboard, and maybe even shinier. Jim Kirk liked shiny new things. Most importantly, Jim would be able to actually talk to someone other than McCoy, Nora, and Jojo while they were here in Atlanta.
And Jocelyn.
Let Joce insult Jim again? Over his dead body. To think that McCoy had thought anything with Joce had been sweet, including their first kiss years ago. He'd been twisted up inside, guilt-ridden about that sweetness after their divorce, clear up to the day he'd stepped onto the shuttle and met a man with as much to run from as McCoy had, possibly more.
McCoy shook the bitter thought about his ex away and moved on.
"Your voice won't be gone forever, and more than likely will be back in a day or two," McCoy explained. Although he hated Jim had to deal with these side effects, it meant the drug therapy was working. "But, I figured you wanted to at least talk to Spock soon and maybe a few others. You'll be able to type and they'll be able to see you, their esteemed captain. The best of both worlds."
Jim arched a brow.
McCoy wanted to smack some sense into Jim. Uhura and Sulu had left Jim messages, two each since yesterday, both asking about Jim and when they could speak with him. Mr. Scott had left five. And then there was Spock, who basically had an open line going with McCoy. How was that not interest?
"Of course they want to see you, ya moron," he said gruffly before Jim's brow raised higher. "Esteemed or not, you're their captain and friend."
While Jim was upright and awake, color rising on his cheeks, it was time. McCoy couldn't wait another second, and reaching Jim couldn't wait now that he saw his opportunity. McCoy first exchanged a glance with his mother. Jim was putting up a brave front, but it wasn't hard to see that the morning activities had drained his energy.
Nora sent him a look that she understood, and McCoy handed Jim the PADD. The eager expression Jim gave him sent a warmth straight through his chest. Hell, it really didn't take much to make McCoy happy. It didn't take much these days to make Jim happy. Unfortunately, it didn't take much to irritate Jim, either.
"Sweetheart, come with me," Nora murmured, resting her hands on Jojo's shoulders.
"Aww, but, Nana!" Jojo protested.
"Jojo, your father needs to talk with James," Nora reprimanded her tenderly only as a grandmother would. "And I can't be without my best helper. Who else is going to lick the bowl clean?"
"Me, Nana! Me!" Jojo chimed, now pulling Nora to the kitchen. "Bye, Uncle Jim! I'll be back!"
Once the two were out of sight, McCoy didn't wait. Except, as McCoy's attention went back to Jim, he realized Jim wasn't giving another thought to the device in his hand. He probably hadn't even heard Jojo's goodbye.
Instead, Jim was staring off into space, lost in his own world, face losing that bit of color.
"Jim," McCoy called, trying to break Jim's daze. When Jim didn't acknowledge him, doubt filled McCoy that this was the best time to bring up anything related to the warp core incident.
While he contemplated foregoing the next conversation altogether, Jim looked up at him, eyes narrowly focusing. What? he mouthed.
"There's something I want to show you, but I need to see the device for a second," McCoy explained, seeing a little more clarity in those eyes. "If that's alright."
McCoy reached down and gripped Jim's device. So did Jim, firmly and with both hands, sending McCoy a glare saying that he meant business.
"Jim, I'll give it back," McCoy said, fighting the urge to lift his brow in amusement.
But then Jim bit his lip, wincing like it hurt, as if McCoy was taking his only prized possession.
McCoy filled with even more guilt than he'd had minutes ago. First he leaves the man alone while taking a bath when he clearly needed company, and then he's stealing his link to the outside world. Maybe it was a little mean to take the device back from a man like Jim who prided his independence, if for only a moment. But, there was no other way to show Jim. What else could he do?
Jim was sometimes a cocky bastard, yes, but most times Jim just couldn't understand the good he'd done unless it was right in front of him. This was one of those times.
"I promise," McCoy stressed for Jim's sake.
Jim let go, albeit reluctantly, and unlike before, watched McCoy's every move as he pulled up the holos and gave the device back to him.
"Lieutenant Lynette Carter and her husband, Ensign Patrick Carter," McCoy said, although Jim knew perfectly well who there were, just as Jim knew every other name and face of his crew. "Lynette is one of your crewmembers, as you know. Engineering. That's their only child, a boy, who just turned six. Had a birthday last week. Lynette stopped by at Starfleet General several days ago and told me that all he wanted was a starship shaped cake."
McCoy chuckled, finding the next idea so charming as he thought of it again. He and Jim didn't normally exchange flowery words of praise between them, but this was different. "With the Enterprise written on top instead of his own name, and also...yours."
McCoy didn't imagine it. Jim was listening. The holo of the Carters, the family of the woman he'd saved, the small boy who had his birthday, held Jim's complete attention as he traced a finger over the boy's face.
"Because the Enterprise brought his mother safely back home. She told me that he wants a picture with you someday, when you're back on your feet," McCoy said, pausing when a tear spilled over and down Jim's cheek. "You did that, Jim. You brought them back together."
McCoy finished. Jim's face had crumpled long before he was done.
Jim leaned forward, breaths coming in gasps. McCoy knelt beside him, well-aware that Jim had nothing to support his back. As Jim's defenses broke down, McCoy wanted to protect Jim, his captain, his best friend, more than anything in the world. Seeing Jim in so much emotional pain, pain that was all too necessary, wrecked McCoy.
Falling into the role of friend over doctor, he wrapped his arms around Jim, curving a hand around the base of Jim's neck to pull him close. Which wasn't much, since Jim had restrained himself despite the emotions coming to a head.
"It's okay, Jim," McCoy murmured, not even sure if Jim heard him. "Just let it out, buddy. This is a safe place."
McCoy tugged him closer, Jim's head just pressing against McCoy's chest. Still, Jim fought him, refusing to give in to the rest of his emotion and feel that total release.
But this couldn't wait, and McCoy pressed on. It was instinctive, this need to reach Jim.
"Jim, I promise you," McCoy whispered urgently in his ear. "You're safe with me."
That was all it took, McCoy's vow to be someone to Jim that he never had in his life. Jim surrendered in McCoy's arms and sobbed the most heart-wrenching rasping, throaty sounds McCoy had ever heard. That Jim couldn't speak only made his cries a million times worse.
"Just let it out, Buddy," McCoy said, voice stronger than it should be when a lump formed in his throat. "I'm here for you, Jim. Take all the time you need."
Jim clung to McCoy like his life depended upon it. McCoy clung back, vowing that nothing would ever get in his way of being a haven for Jim.
McCoy closed his eyes, but soon discovered his mistake.
He should've known better, but he'd had the confidence of a doctor who'd dealt with death even before Starfleet. Arrogance, really. As he held Jim, he had nothing to think about but what had ultimately broken Jim, bringing them here to this point.
It was like an addiction, the remembering. He was damned if he did, damned if didn't, for who else was going to take up the mantel of caring for Jim Kirk like he was? Who else did McCoy even trust to do anything in regards to Jim's recuperation? After all that he'd done to save him?
Far too few.
He hated the thought of Jim's death but it always came back to that, didn't it? Since his life revolved around Jim, since he'd naively thought the ship had been saved only to discover that Jim had breathed his life at the same time. McCoy's chest squeezed, recalling the moment when the body had come in. His mouth simply hadn't worked. He'd stood silently, a void forming in his chest like it did when you'd lost something you loved more than yourself, a brother, the best friend you knew you'd ever have in your entire life.
They'd brought the body in, the Hazmat suits telling him what he already knew, the silence foreshadowing McCoy's greatest fear. Everyone in the room, save McCoy, held their breath.
No longer the steadiest hands on the ship, McCoy had unzipped the bag, the only sound filling the room beside his own heavy breathing. Fingers trembling, he'd let go of the makeshift coffin, arm falling against the table, hope crashing to the floor, world coming to a complete and utter stop.
McCoy kept still, standing in the shadows, watching himself face the worst moment of his life, when his world shattered into oblivion. Jim's lifeless face was everywhere he looked, those once brilliant eyes now empty and stars already faded from them. He didn't think of it then, but he did now. Maybe it had been a small mercy Jim hadn't called for him from behind the glass. McCoy never had to watch the stars leaving Jim, as Jim left them.
Small mercy.
Deep down, McCoy knew that was a lie he told himself to feel better. Out of anyone, McCoy should have been there. It had been his place, too, right along with Spock's. No question. He should have been there when his best friend had fucking died.
But he was Leonard Horatio McCoy. Of course things hadn't exactly gone the way that they should.
His father's illness and death had proved that long ago.
So no one had called him that his best friend had minutes. No one called until it was over and they needed him. And then Jim was gone. Without Jim, there was nothing. No man to follow. No direction. No purpose to drag him out of his messy, miserable past. No life for McCoy. He'd been too late and now all he had was this.
The body of his best friend and an autopsy to perform.
The body of...McCoy sucked in a ragged breath, trying to bring himself back as a metaphorical knife ripped into his heart. This wasn't right. Jim was here, his warm body in his arms. Shaking in his grief, dependent upon McCoy.
McCoy was still the doctor who kept his shit together, dammit. He didn't panic, didn't have vivid flashbacks just because he'd seen a dead body. He didn't lose it even if that body had been Jim's. He didn't lose himself and throw his training out the window just because Jim was working through his grief.
McCoy was healing, just like Jim. He was healing, wasn't he? He had to be. He had a job to do, a man who depended upon him. He had to be strong, ready to face whatever else being a Starfleet officer would bring their way.
Goddammit, Leonard Horatio McCoy held it together.
McCoy curled his hand around Jim's head, fingers disappearing in Jim's hair, the skin to skin contact grounding him to reality. Jim wasn't dead. He was here with McCoy. Jim was here. He was alive. McCoy knew this. McCoy remembered Jim's cold, dead body but he had proof of Jim's tears, bleeding through his shirt. Jim's sweat rubbing off on him. Jim's breaths bursting in warm gasps along his skin. The emotion ruthlessly pounding Jim's body, the dramatic rise and fall of Jim's chest, all felt by McCoy as he held him.
"It's okay, buddy," McCoy whispered. "I gotcha."
McCoy centered himself around Jim, like he always did, though Jim felt like different man. This one was practically skin and bones, shoulders quaking and soul wrecked by emotion suppressed for far too long, no bravado left, except...there was. Falling apart in front of someone else took courage. But a small part of McCoy wondered if Jim would have chosen to do this had he not influenced, pushed, or otherwise twisted his arm.
Did that even matter? He'd promised Jim that he was safe with him, hadn't he? He was going to make damn sure that Jim had no reason to doubt him.
Jim's tears continued in waves, his cries mixing with mostly hoarse, unintelligible words.
"I know, Jim, I know," McCoy murmured the only encouragement he knew, running his hand through Jim's hair in a gesture that always comforted the younger man. Now it was a selfish gesture grounding McCoy to reality. "Let it all out, buddy. You have all the time you need."
Jim's mostly soundless weeping became harder for McCoy to bear, especially when he thought he'd heard the word Pike at one time, and then my fault. McCoy sensed Jim's guilt for surviving, but it didn't matter that he couldn't understand anything else. McCoy could always understand Jim Kirk.
"No. No, Jim, it wasn't your fault," McCoy emphasized.
Jim's head moved side to side, cries wracking his thin frame so violently McCoy worried Jim would injure himself.
"It wasn't your fault. The others... they made their own choices, Jim…" McCoy's voice trailed off when another interrupted him.
"Leonard," Nora said, barely overreaching his muddle of thoughts and Jim's heart-wrenching, raspy cries.
McCoy glanced past Jim's head to his mother, a woman whose life experiences seemed to have given her a sixth sense, now standing a meter away. She held out McCoy's medbag, eyes encouraging, forcing him back into his role as a doctor.
"I thought you might need this," Nora said.
God bless his mother. He did need that medbag.
The continuous release of tears indicated that Jim would benefit from the anti-anxiety medication McCoy had packed in that very bag, a drug prescribed by Jim's psychiatrist. More depended upon Jim being fairly calm than McCoy would like to admit, including Jim's ability to stay in a safe, mental place despite his PTSD. If the drug treatments could set him off, McCoy was afraid that an emotional episode like this could provoke the same result, even if the release was necessary.
Then there were the detested neurogenic tremors. McCoy hadn't seen signs of them yet this morning. For Jim's sake, he didn't want to. It was obvious how hard they were on Jim, a man who preferred to be in control of himself. They only served as a reminder of how far away his command really was.
McCoy may be off-kilter himself, but he didn't know Jim Kirk as good as he did only to be lead to this point and not be prepared for the repercussions. Blood pressure, heart rate...all needed to be addressed before there was another domino effect with disastrous results on his hands.
"There would be fine," McCoy said, indicating with a tip of his head for her to place it right beside him on the floor. "Joanna?"
"I gave her something to do," Nora said softly. "She knows to be quiet and wait for me."
McCoy shifted Jim in his arms so he had one hand free, also opening a clean spot on Jim's neck for the hypospray, but Jim startled.
"Jim, it'll be a small pin—" McCoy began but Jim's arms tightened around him, momentarily squeezing the breath from him. "Jim...buddy...I'm not..."
Jim curled into him, his hands roving along McCoy's back as if he didn't know what to do in his panic, didn't know how to communicate without his voice. Jim clawed at McCoy, chin inching forward, pressing uncomfortably against his chest, enough to leave a bruise. That was the least of his worries. McCoy didn't need eyes on the back of his head to know that Jim's hands were far from steady.
"Leonard, if you'd like me to..." Nora's voice trailed off, her eyes questioning as she continued to hold the bag instead of setting it on the floor.
Despite the tremors, Jim's fingers dug into McCoy's skin.
"Jim...I promise. I'm not going anywhere," McCoy said, wincing when Jim's fingers seemed to bruise his skin. His mother was right. McCoy didn't have to administer the drug to a clingy Jim Kirk. Nora could manage the medication instead. "I'm just moving you so my mama can give you something to help settle you."
When Jim didn't reply, McCoy shifted Jim just enough that his head rested more comfortably on McCoy's chest.
"Breathe, Jim," McCoy urged, still feeling Jim's hands at his back. "Breathe with me. Do ya hear my heart?"
Cries diminishing, Jim hiccupped and moved his head up and down as it pressed against McCoy's chest.
"Okay. Good. Focus on that. Focus on me, Jim," McCoy murmured, rubbing Jim's back. "You're safe with me. Always safe. Safe, Jim. Not goin' anywhere."
Jim made a small rumble in his throat, but was otherwise quiet and miraculously still, save for a few shudders of his slight frame. McCoy nodded that he was ready to his mother.
"We'll give him the anti-anxiety med first," he decided quickly, recalling his conversation with Jim's psychiatrist and counselor. They both recommended the dosage be increased from twice a day to four times daily if Jim began to experience his grief in such a manner. "2 mg."
Nora had the hypospray primed and ready before McCoy adjusted his arm, giving his mother a better spot to inject the medication into Jim's neck.
She paused when Jim suddenly hiccuped, also lifting his head at the movement. He turned it sideways on McCoy's chest, giving McCoy a perfect view of his tear-stained cheeks and baby blues filled with raw grief, confusion, sadness...and shame.
Shame.
McCoy would have none of that.
McCoy gave his mother a look, stopping her. He wanted Jim to trust him first, before they did anything else.
"Hey," McCoy said softly, turning his attention back to Jim
Jim began to shy away as if to hide.
"Jim," McCoy said, voice firm.
Jim stilled, staring brightly at him, another hiccup following.
"This is what you need, Jim. It's part of healing," McCoy said, tone softening. "There is nothing wrong with having a man-cry, alright?"
Jim only blinked, tears falling as if McCoy had given him permission to continue, scrunching his face as another sob wracked his body. McCoy wasn't surprised when Jim smashed his face back into McCoy's chest, hands trembling as they pulled at his shirt like before.
McCoy cocooned him in his arms. If Jim needed this much comfort while the world seemed to crash around him, McCoy wouldn't let anything get in his way of giving that to him.
"I'm not going anywhere, Jim," McCoy reaffirmed patiently. "But, we need to give you a med. I'll stay just like this for as long as you want, but if you can, I'd like you to try to be as still as you can, Captain."
Jim held his breath, another rumble sounding in his chest as if the word captain meant something to him. McCoy hoped it did, reminding Jim of that goal.
McCoy nodded to Nora. Eyes warm, she administered the medication. Before she pulled away from Jim, she stroked his head and whispered in his ear.
"Leonard, breakfast will be ready soon," Nora said quietly, straightening. "But if you need me before that, just call."
"Thank you," McCoy murmured.
"Anything for the two of you," Nora whispered before taking for the kitchen.
Once his mother disappeared around corner, he waited a few seconds, Jim's breaths just beginning to even out. "I'll stay here as long as you need me, Jim," McCoy said after awhile.
Jim remained still other than a slight nod. A pleasant silence swelled between them. As time stretched on, pain crept into McCoy's knees, but that didn't matter.
What mattered was Jim.
If Jim couldn't deal with his own grief in a healthy manner, McCoy didn't know how he or any of the rest of Jim's senior command crew could ever begin to move on like they should. Uhura had said as much to McCoy a week ago, speaking on behalf of Spock and everyone else. If Spock's reply to McCoy had been sincere, and McCoy knew it was, Uhura was right. How could any of them truly move on without their captain?
McCoy rubbed his hand along Jim's back in slow circles. They all wanted Jim to return to his command, but he couldn't rush him. They couldn't rush this. He'd give Jim as much time as he needed.
"How's your pain," McCoy said. It wasn't a question.
Jim's body went limp in his arms, as if he'd reached his end.
"Yeah," McCoy said quietly. "I figured."
McCoy sighed, hand bracing the back of Jim's head as he rested against him. It took all of his self-control not to transfer him back to his bed, where he may be more comfortable. It wouldn't do them either any favors if he took away Jim's independence that way. He was concerned about Jim's back, but he'd promised Jim a day in this damn chair.
And that made him even more surprised when Jim grunted and pushed away from McCoy.
McCoy took his lead but did most of the work, holding Jim in place with hands on his shoulders once he was sitting up.
Jim blinked open his red, puffy eyes, a moan rumbling deep in his chest. He reached up and ran a shaking hand over his face to dry his cheeks, moving like an aged and arthritic man. He even breathed like it hurt.
McCoy worried more. "I'll get ya a heat pack as soon as I know you're okay," he promised, though he'd wait until after Jim ate something before submitting him to another tricorder reading.
He may have been a bit too hasty the other day when all Jim had wanted to do was drink his tea. McCoy wouldn't make the same mistake twice. As much as he was itching to pick it up and see what was wrong, the tricorder could wait.
Jim's hand dropped heavily onto his lap as he glanced at McCoy, eyes filled with the same, desperate emotion he'd had earlier.
"There isn't anything to be ashamed about," McCoy said, holding his gaze and connecting them, not allowing Jim's lack of voice to distance them any further. "It's all part of grieving. I imagine this won't be the last time for it, either, Jim, and that's okay."
Jim swallowed. Pike, he mouthed.
Time stood still, sadness pouring from Jim's eyes, McCoy's heart twisting because he couldn't do more to lessen Jim's pain. It was the first time Jim had ever acknowledged his mentor's death and, dare he even think it, his father figure's death, to McCoy.
"He'd be proud of you, Jim," McCoy finally managed. When Jim could hold himself up, he let go of Jim's shoulders. "Just like I am."
Jim stared at him, eyes widening a fraction.
The words had been unexpected to McCoy, too. "Here," he said gruffly, reaching behind Jim and fixing the pillow to better suit him. "Although I don't think fluffing pillows is listed under my job description, let's get you comfortable before Jojo and my mama are done making our food. You didn't think I'd let you forget about that one pancake you promised you'd eat, did ya? All because of a little man-cry?"
McCoy scowled, something close to a smile crossing Jim's face.
"Yeah, I thought so, you infant," McCoy muttered, using all his self-control not to return the almost-smile. "One pancake, Jim. No excuses. I'll be right back."
oOo
Jim stared at the figure walking away. Unlike after the last time Bones had left him, he was experiencing something entirely different now.
For one, he didn't feel abandoned. How could he? Bones had been attentive to his needs far more than Jim had expected. Bones had also held Jim for who knew how long while he'd cried.
Jim didn't know what had gotten into him. He'd been so afraid that Bones was going to leave him while he fell apart. He'd been so afraid that he'd lost control of himself, literally pulling Bones to him, clinging to him like a small child. But Bones had let him, and he'd stayed. Not only that but Bones had even teased him like he used to, going as far as using the scowl that always made Jim feel good inside.
Jim hadn't realized how much he'd missed grumpy Bones until now.
And then there was Nora.
"I am proud of you, James. You are my son just as much as Leonard is, and I'm so proud of you," she had whispered in Jim's ear.
Her son. Jim's own mother wouldn't even use that term. In fact, if she ever did, Jim might laugh in her face. It would bring nothing but pain from Winona. It meant complete security coming from Nora.
It meant everything coming from Bones' mom.
Jim wasn't sure the last time he'd felt so content. He sighed, a sudden, sharp pain in his side taking his breath away. He wrapped his arm around his chest and couldn't help but hunch forward, wincing when the pain didn't subside.
Had he cracked a rib or two during his crying spell? Was he really this frail?
Jim didn't have to look to know there was hardly any fat between his fingers and bone as he gingerly touched around his lower ribs. His hand could encircle his own damn wrist like it was nothing. Nora, even at her age, could pull him up and help him out of the tub by herself. His legs looked sickly and lacked the muscle tone he'd once had, despite hours of PT.
Jim's shoulders sagged. Thanks to the radiation, he really was that frail, though he didn't want to be. These injections had to work, maybe not yet, but soon. They just had to. Still, Bones was probably right to give him this damn med.
Minutes ago, Jim had reduced to a massive mess of emotion. Now his mind felt drifty, thoughts subdued. Was it the med? He didn't recall it affecting him like this before. But he didn't feel like crying anymore, and that was good. He even wanted to eat.
In fact, he was hungry. Really hungry. Weeping his eyes out would really get in the way of all of that. Maybe that was why Bones gave him a medication to calm him down in the first place.
One hand still wrapped around himself, Jim looked down. He was surprised to see the device still on his lap but more surprised that he hadn't noticed it was there at all. Jim picked it up, contemplating sending Spock a quick message before he ate. More than likely when he did speak to Spock face to face, at least through the video feed, Spock would be able to see right through him, sensing something else was wrong.
And that bothered him a little.
The fact was that he was scared. Bones was far away...but he wasn't. Bones was starting to act like his friend from before...but, again, he wasn't. Jim wasn't well and he simply didn't have it in him to put up a facade or to act like everything was fine. Spock wouldn't have to look far to see something was different.
Jim wasn't sure he could manage all that was being thrown at him to be honest, even with the med. But...this was his best friend. It was a good thing that Jim had no qualms having two best friends, because he counted Spock as one, too. And Spock was beginning to read him very, very well.
Jim would have to manage under Spock's scrutiny, for Bones' sake. There was even the off-chance that Spock would ask him what else was wrong after Jim listed all the things he'd lost and no longer had control of.
Who was he kidding. There was no off-chance. It may even be the first thing out of Spock's mouth.
Jim gave a dry chuckle, quickly shortened by the feeling of needles pinching his side. He didn't dare breathe as shifted in the seat, trying to find a position with only a twinge of pain, finally leaning his head back against the chair in surrender. He found a vague spot on the ceiling to stare at as he drew shallow, controlled breaths bringing the least discomfort.
He definitely had a session with the bone knitter in the future. He hated that thing, certain that Bones had stashed it somewhere in his bedroom.
"Here ya go," Bones said, appearing out of nowhere to place a tray with food right under Jim's nose. He also placed a heat pack behind his back and rested his hand on Jim's shoulder when he was done.
Jim looked up at Bones, opening his mouth to say thank you when Jojo interjected.
"I made yours all by myself, Uncle Jim!" Jojo sang happily.
Jim blinked, confused.
The hazel eyes staring down at him crinkled. "The pancakes, Jim," Bones leaned down, whispering.
How had he forgotten? Jim pulled up the a blank note on his device, quickly writing Thank you. Jojo beamed when she read it. Jim had moved too quickly, regretting it now as he shifted in his seat. He could feel the doctor's eyes upon him, calculating and sharp.
"Jim?" Bones asked.
Jim swallowed again, glancing as casually as he could back at Bones.
"You alright?" Bones asked, concerned eyes sweeping over him just like he expected. "I thought you might have been in pain earlier."
I... Jim paused in writing, not wanting to forgo a plate of hot food. Determined to eat his food without spilling it, Jim straightened.
God, it hurt. But he set his jaw, ignoring the flash of acute pain in his side.
I'm just hungry, he typed.
Bones cocked an eye at him.
So he'd lied so that he could eat. That really wasn't a new thing for Jim. Bones should know that.
"Alright, but I do need to run a vitals check when you're done," Bones said slowly.
Jim blinked in surprise. He wouldn't pull out his tricorder now? When Jim clearly was hiding the truth?
Bones gave him a small smile and squeezed Jim's shoulder. "I'll be back with the rest of our food."
Slightly dumbfounded Bones hadn't called him on his bull, Jim watched as Bones retreated to the kitchen.
That was it? That was all he was going to say about it? Jim almost didn't know what to do with himself. Why hadn't Bones put up a fight or argued with Jim?
"Uncle Jim?"
Jim shook himself to attention. He picked up the device, writing quickly. Yeah, kiddo?
Jojo read the words as she knelt beside Jim. She crossed her arms on the chair, resting her chin on her hands like she was going to stay awhile and peered at him with sharp eyes.
"Were you crying?" She had to ask that, of course. Jojo could always see right through you, so there was nothing to do but tell the truth. Granted, his eyes were probably swollen and red, too, so it wasn't a secret.
He nodded.
She frowned. "Why? Are you sad?"
He nodded again, carefully cutting a piece of the pancake with his fork. He'd eat this pancake if it was the last thing he'd ever do. After the pancake came his call to Spock.
"Is it because of Mister Pike?" she whispered.
The world tilted before he could even lift the fork to his mouth. He couldn't breathe, all the contentedness he'd just felt being sucked right from his heart.
"Uncle Jim? He was like your...your dad?" she asked, voice sweet but conjuring all the bittersweet memories of a man Jim wanted to see walk through Mrs. McCoy's front door for a visit. Was that asking too much? "He was like your dad, wasn't he, Uncle Jim?"
Tears welled up in his eyes.
Dammit, what was wrong with him? Jim set the fork down, willing himself to hold it together. His breath came out in short, successively painful puffs. It wasn't Jojo's fault, but she was sometimes too smart for her own good.
It took all of Jim's willpower to keep from giving into the emotion as he typed.
Admioral Piklwe…
But all his willpower wasn't enough to keep his tremors from reappearing. Jim gritted his teeth, backspaced, and tried again, giving up when it was too tedious to try for perfection.
Admirial oPike hbelieved in lme, just like your dad breelieves in yuou, Jojo.
Jojo read with a thoughtful look on her face. "He missed my play," she said, matter of factly. "And I haven't talked to him much lately."
Because of him.
He typed, tremors ruining most every word. I'mm sorry, Jojoi. I know he woulde havee wanted to vbe at tyour playt. hHe lovces you-
"It's okay. He wants to take care of both of us," she said. "Uncle Jim, why are your hands shaking? They weren't just a minute ago."
Jim briefly closed his eyes, forcing himself not to hide his hands from sight in defeat. He swallowed and added, becauser I was huirt, Jonjo.
"I think that's why he can't come. You were hurt and he cares about you as much as he does me," she stated. "Mommy said that to her boyfriend. She thinks I don't know things, but I do, Uncle Jim. I know that you need my daddy."
Jim couldn't deny it. Without Bones, Jim knew he wouldn't be functioning well at all. But if Jocelyn was telling her damn boyfriend...
Wait. Did Bones even know she had a boyfriend? Jocelyn having a boyfriend threw something new into the fire. That meant this battle for Jojo was an entirely different ballgame than they'd thought.
"And I don't mind, 'cuz you need Daddy to get better." Jojo's face fell. "I don't like it when you're sick, Uncle Jim."
He didn't like it, either. He required a lot of care. He was useless...Jim stopped, remembering the device in his hands. Almost useless.
"Don't you like it?" Jojo bit her lip, gazing at him expectantly.
He stared at her blankly.
"Your food?" She looked sad at the thought.
Jim quickly caught up. He was ambidextrous, though he hid this skill. But since his fine motor skills were lousy, he didn't trust his left hand. He also used to be able to multi-task a hell of a lot better. For now, it was either eat or communicate.
He typed with extreme care and deliberation, trying to hit the keys as properly as he could. I love it. All I need is anotherrr hand so Ii can eat and talk to tyou at the same time, Jojo. Then I'dd hagve 3 hands. I'd be your 3-handed unccle. Think of all the extraqs chores I could dfro to help you asnd thge awesome treess we cohldf climb. Thwen yiuo could take nme 2 schoool 4 shjow ad tell. Woould you like thaty?
She giggled. "Yes."
Jim made a face at her.
You woukld, he typed.
"What are you two plottin' while I was gone?" Bones grouched from behind Jojo.
Jojo brightened immediately when Bones brought out another tray, one loaded with two plates and another dish. "Daddy, you remembered Nana's fruit!"
Jim honed in on the fruit she just mentioned. Jim couldn't remember the last time he'd ever had something so bright and sweet to eat. He really hadn't branched out that much as far as food goes, not even since he'd left the hospital.
"Jim, do you want to try some fruit, too?" Bones asked, hesitating.
Jim swiped his hand across the PADD to clear his other conversation, tremors magnified with Bones nearby.
I think I crackled a rib when I cried njmy eyes out, vBones.
Jim watched Bones, facing the music. He might as well come clean.
"Crackled?" Bones asked, brow arched.
Jim rolled his eyes.
Bones sighed. "Jim...yes," Bones finally said. "I had a feeling you did. We'll work on that as soon as you eat something. I know you're hungry and enduring the bone knitter on an empty stomach is a recipe for disaster. And I don't want to pump your body with yet another sedative so soon after the drug therapy."
Jim thought a moment. That explained some things, at least.
So thatg's why you sdidn't say anyythingv earliefr?
Bones glanced at Jojo. "Jojo, why don't you give Jim some fruit to eat with that pancake and the extra glass of orange juice."
"Okay," she said, face brightening with the responsibility.
She went to work, Jim frowning as Bones took his device away and chose to type a reply rather than speak it.
Jim's frown deepened when Bones glanced sideways at him before he was done.
Was something else wrong? Had Jim done something wrong? He imagined that he had, not telling Bones immediately that he was in pain. It was stupid not to, really.
Jim couldn't stand the suspense of what was coming to him and what he maybe even deserved. He took a bite of food to get his mind off of it. He was shocked when it didn't make him want to gag. He reached for the juice to wash it down, hating how his hand shook, sloshing what liquid was actually in the glass.
To his relief, nothing spilled over. Someone - probably Bones - had wisely filled it halfway.
Jim swallowed the juice and set down the glass just as Bones finally finished and held up the PADD, angling it for Jim's eyes only.
Jim's lips moved as he read.
I was an ass for not letting you finish your tea the other day, Jim. I'm sorry. Very sorry. I won't do that again. You deserve to be able to eat in peace. Eat your food, enjoy it if you can, and then I will be your doctor. You're sitting down and not moving much, so you're not going to make things worse before I get my hands on the injury. We can wait a few minutes.
Jim was honestly a little stunned that Bones had apologized. That seemed like a big step for them right now. It was a big step, but there was a lot more than that in their way. Jim wrote his reply and cocked his head at Bones, who read it aloud.
"It's killing you to wait, isn't it?" Bones read evenly.
Bones paused, looking up at Jim. From the looks of things, he was possibly chewing on the inside of his mouth.
"Yes," Bones said, clearly pained.
Jim had to admit that it was a bit uncomfortable just sitting here with at least one possible fracture to his ribcage.
That aside, he wanted to shove a whole plateful of pancakes into his mouth. He was that damn hungry.
Jojo had already dived into her food.
Jim picked up his fork.
Bones did, too.