Author's Note: Hello! I've missed you all! :) Please pardon my long absence. I'm in a much better mental place to continue this fic now and hope you'll enjoy what's in store for our beloved characters. Thank you for your good thoughts and replies to my recent Author's Note. You don't know how much they mean to me and how much I appreciate that you are all so patient and still willing to read this fic.
Finally, we are here! The chapter with the scene that started it all, when I was putting the story together in my head last spring/summer. As I mentioned in my note from Chapter 8, I'm backtracking a bit for this chapter. We'll begin at the tail end of the scene with Jim and Bones, but in Jim's POV.
I wish to extend my deepest gratitude to DiamondBlue4 for betaing this chapter, offering critique and encouragement. Also, junker 5 and plumeria 47! Thank you!
I'll say this again - it means so much that you are still here and willing to read after all this time. I hope you enjoy this new installment. Lots of bromance, more Spock interaction, and the porch scene, and more.
oOo
And If I Stand Next To You
Chapter 9
(i'm guided by a beating heart)
oOo
"You're an idiot, but you're my idiot."
The moment Jim heard the words 'my idiot,' he knew he really was forgiven. But it shocked him so much that he stared at Bones with wide eyes. The endearment reflected the true brotherhood they shared, that he craved. It indicated the codependency that most therapists would say wasn't healthy but that he latched on to, anyway. By saying those words, Bones was embracing that connection.
A connection that Jim wasn't sure they still had since he'd died.
"...my best friend who doesn't think of himself in the face of danger but is the bravest man I know," Bones finished softly, dropping his hands from Jim's shoulders.
Jim blinked at him, his heart lurching in his chest. Brave? It had been a gut reaction. Instinct to protect Bones and Joanna. It had been the only thing he could do. He couldn't have done anything else. He...he couldn't even imagine not answering the damn door.
Not going into the warp core.
Not jumping off a drill.
Not becoming friends with a washed-out doctor in the first place.
They were family.
Bones. Spock. Sulu. Uhura. Chekov. Scotty.
All of them.
"And I'm sorry. Most of all, I'm sorry, Jim. It was all my fault, overreacting. Yelling at you. And God," Bones whispered. "Look what happened."
Jim quickly swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to look the brave part. It wasn't easy, especially in light of the consequences. He never wanted to experience another hallucination again in his life. The hellish drug therapy he had to endure was bad enough.
Hellish was a kind word to use to describe the injections that were unlike any other hypos he'd ever experienced. He didn't even know how to describe the experiences as a whole. If he thought about it too much, he wasn't sure he'd be able to withstand the therapy that was coming. Not like this, not when he was already down. The next round meant even more fevers. More night sweats. More hallucinations. More symptoms. Thinking of the catheter, he added another thing to the miserable list—an even greater loss of control.
If each session was to be significantly worse than the previous, the next round was sure to be harder on Bones than on him. Because he knew his best friend. He understood the heartache this was causing him, the sheer amount of guilt he carried. Since they'd arrived here, he had felt it himself a thousand times over.
He'd do anything to let this man know how much his friendship meant to him. If that meant being honest and cooperative, then he'd do it. It was a small sacrifice.
And he certainly knew about making sacrifices.
"A change of scenery," Bones said a moment later, after they were both lost in their thoughts.
He instantly had visions of walking downtown, going to that upscale bar they'd talked about trying before the shit went down, or even heading for the country. Anything would give him the sense of freedom he hadn't had in weeks.
He wanted to taste that freedom like he wanted to taste a double scoop of chocolate chip ice cream on a waffle cone, catching the cool drip of ice cream with his tongue before it ran down the cone and onto his fingers.
That was a brilliant idea, if he did say so himself. Maybe they could get ice cream. Jojo would love it just as much as Jim.
"You mean go somewhere?" he asked eagerly.
Bones shook his head. "Doctor's orders."
Jim bit back a retort. More disappointed than he'd been in a long time, he sank to the bed. Was Bones messing with him?
He was crushed.
"So, this is what we'll do," Bones said hurriedly, sitting beside him.
He half-listened. Maybe Bones had said that because of Jojo.
His heart began to beat erratically. He'd smack himself on the head, but Bones was right beside him and would notice.
How could he have been so selfish? Of course it was because of Jojo.
He frowned. "Bones."
"We'll just…"
"Bones."
Bones finally turned to look at him. "Yeah," he said roughly.
Jim nervously licked his lips. He didn't want to have anything coming between them, and if that meant stuffing down his selfish desires for time alone with him, then so be it. Again.
"If it's too much, because you've lost time with Jojo already because of what happened, just do what you need to do?" he ordered breathlessly.
As soon as he spoke, he wanted to smack himself again. Why was he rambling so much? If it became a habit, or, worse, a side effect that never went away, he'd never be captain again. He could see it now. Not even drunk and always putting his foot in his mouth because of the nonsense pouring out of it. The condemning quirk of Spock's brow when he couldn't control his mouth while they were on diplomatic missions. Uhura's evil eye when he blubbered on said diplomatic missions.
Jim blinked the horrific thoughts away.
Who the hell wanted a rambling idiot for a captain?
"I don't need anything except one thing, Jim. I need to make it up to you," Bones said in that convincing drawl of his. "Out on the back porch. We can just sit." He paused, smiling a little. "And talk."
He almost pinched himself. Bones wanted to talk...more? On the porch? The idea seemed so small and insignificant, but suddenly that was all that he wanted. More than anything in the world.
Feeling more vulnerable than ever, tears sprang to his eyes. He wanted to deny them, but he couldn't. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded.
"Later, when the storm has passed, or maybe after...after we spend some time with Jojo and our new guest," Bones said.
He frowned. Guest? "What? Who?"
Bones looked quizzically at him. "Spock," he said.
Jim wanted to smack himself on the head for the third time in a row. "Right," he said quietly. "Spock."
Bones's quirked brow told Jim that his ruse was up. "You forgot so soon?"
"No, I just...well, maybe," he said, flustered with himself.
He averted his gaze, staring at the floor. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't just...forget Spock? Or did he? Was his memory going, too? Was it the hallucination? The therapy? Was Bones going to make a big deal about it?
"It's been a long day," he managed to say despite the thoughts flooding him.
"I don't think Spock would hold that against ya. But I won't tell, just in case," Bones said lightly, soothing his fears that it was a bigger problem. "To save your sorry hide."
He had to smile. "But I didn't forget about Jojo," he said in a rasp, turning to look at Bones. "And you haven't either."
Bones exhaled a long breath, as if in agreement.
"The porch?" Jim asked, twisting his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Is something wrong with the porch, Jim?" Bones asked.
"No," he said too quickly. " I just...I've seen wanting to do that...but…"
"But what, Jim," Bones pressed.
"I was afraid to ask," he asked, feeling his face heat.
He prayed Bones wouldn't ask why he was afraid, because then he'd have to admit to eavesdropping.
Bones scowled.
Out of habit or his desire to make everything right between them, he couldn't hold it in. "Because I...I overheard you...talking with...your mom," he practically stammered.
Dammit, he wanted to hit himself alongside the head for a fourth time. He was a rambling idiot.
"You heard me…" Bones's voice trailed off, a frustrated look on his face. "I may have exaggerated my concerns. We'll take precautions, but it would be good for you to get some fresh air."
He stared at Bones, not wanting to get his hopes up.
"It'll be fine," Bones said, now smiling. "Not only that, but there won't be anyone showing up unannounced on the back porch," he said in a dry tone. "I promise. "
He felt a surge of comfort that Bones was so protective of him. "You're sure?"
Bones draped an arm along his shoulders. "Absolutely."
Jim basked in the attention, just like he had when Bones had come into the bedroom. And when he'd been ranting. It didn't matter what Bones was doing. This attention was to him what sweet tea and back porches were to Bones and his family. Comforting. Home. Familiar.
Safe.
Bones exuded a soothing presence like a warm, protective blanket. It was exactly what he needed to survive hellish drug therapy. What he needed to be happy.
And he was happy. The next therapy was still several days away. And one day here was like a hundred in his world, time always going at a painstakingly slow pace. Not only that, but Spock was here. And he felt like he could talk to Bones again.
There was plenty to be happy about.
"You're feeling good about things, aren't you," Bones said, glancing sideways at him.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"It's a good look on ya, kid," Bones said, lips twitching at the sides.
Jim's brow furrowed. "It's a good look for you, too."
Bones dropped his arm to his side. "To be honest? This is the most relaxed I've been all damn day," he admitted. "If I died right now, I'd die a happy man," he said, wagging his brows.
Jim cocked an eye. Only Bones could be so distraught and worried about Jim one minute, then joking about death in the next.
It unsettled him, because he couldn't take another step without the promise that this man would be along for the ride. He wanted the promise that once the ride as severely sick patient and resolute doctor was over, they could go back to being like this. After he'd made a full recovery.
He would work twice as hard in therapy to get there. He'd listen to absolutely everything Bones said. Everything. Anything. Because, for the first time in a long time, his future looked bright again.
Bones's happiness was worth it. He'd known that from the very beginning, even if it had been subconsciously. He wouldn't trade the years he'd spent as Leonard McCoy's best friend for anything in the world.
He remembered the day he'd met the disheveled, ranting doctor like it was yesterday. He had boarded that shuttle bone-weary, with nothing but the leather jacket on his back, a headache from hell, and bruises littering his face. Proof that he'd been a little too slow on his feet the night before, a little too laid back during the fight for his own good. Not only that, but he'd just given up one of the only things he'd still owned that reminded him of his dad—his bike.
The bike hadn't been much to look at, it had even sounded like a sick cat at times, but he never cared about the less than pleasing aesthetics or the occasional, abhorrent noise it made. He'd lovingly fixed and cleaned each and every part, the bike similar to the one he'd seen in holos his mother had stashed in a box in her room. Those holos had been the only ones of his dad without something connecting him to Starfleet. And that had been the only reason he'd even looked at the holos after Tarsus, why he'd stolen them from his own mother.
He'd found the box when he was seven years old, sneaking into her bedroom like he usually did when he was bored. A few close calls with Frank had never stopped him from entering her room. Frank only ventured into that room on rare occasions, usually drunk and only if he dragged his body off the couch and climbed the stairs. Winona had been off planet more times than Jim could count, his own mother spending more time in space than in his young life. He hadn't worried about her, either.
For those very reasons he wandered into her vacant space without reservations. With nothing more on his mind than to look at the face that was so much like his own. The face his mother saw whenever her gaze stopped on Jim's face a little too long.
The color of the bike in the garage was different than the one in the holo, but George Kirk could have painted it before he'd set off into the black with Winona. This bike very likely could have been his dad's. The one he'd always liked to ride.
Just like the car, Frank couldn't keep his hands off it. And just like the car, Jim had stolen it back.
Not long after that, he'd given it up for good. Maybe it'd been a stupid idea to just hand over the keys to some stranger before he'd boarded the shuttle—and it was stupid, but he'd made worse decision in his life. But he had still felt that high from the night before. Thanks to Pike and his own recklessness and the dare that had changed absolutely everything, he'd let go of his bike. His desire to be everything his father wasn't driving him forward into Starfleet.
And then that shuttle ride had changed everything again. An embittered drawl had filled his ears, taking his mind off his own tale of woe more than Uhura's smile had. He didn't usually readily admit when someone took him by surprise, but Bones had done just that. He'd ranted so much he had actually thought about asking Uhura to kiss Bones to shut him up. Partly because his head had been pounding and he'd been more than slightly hung over. But mostly because he'd realized he was sitting by someone as broken as he was.
Bones's friendship gave him reason to go on and that, he thought, that had become such a part of him, it had become an integral part of his life. He simply hadn't recognized the seriousness of it, the authenticity, until now. But with this authenticity came responsibilities. For one, a seven-year-old girl, whose heart was even larger than that of her father's. Not that Bones ever boasted about his compassionate bedside manner. On the contrary, the doctor usually did all he could to hide how much he cared. Except for the moments like he'd just experienced here with him, when their pact of brotherhood shone through.
"We should go," Jim said first. "They're all out there, you know."
He'd hardly gotten a chance to say hello to Spock before things got out of hand.
Bones gave a short laugh. "Listen to you, being responsible all of a sudden."
"Someone has to be," he mumbled back.
"Let's get to it, then, kid," Bones said. He stood, reaching down a hand to pull Jim up.
Jim grasped his hand, grateful for the help. He suppressed a groan as the strong Southern man pulled him to his feet. Things were going well, considering, and he rocked back on his heels.
But the room spun. He felt himself falling, caught only by Bones's strong arm.
"Gah," he groaned, putting his hand to his head.
"I knew it. This was too much," Bones said, gently guiding Jim back on the bed.
"Talking?" he said ruefully.
"Everything, Jim, Treadway." Bones muttered. "My own idiot beha—"
Jim blinked up in fright as all the sound around him was sucked away, his vision narrowing until all he could see was a blurred Bones above him.
"I'm going to be sick," he croaked, his stomach turning.
Bones held a pan under his face just in time. His entire body shuddered as he lost everything he'd eaten earlier.
"Shit," he groaned.
One step forward, three backwards.
"Happens to the best of us," Bones said lightly.
"And worst," Jim croaked, wanting to pull away.
"Hold on, Jim," Bones murmured, wiping his mouth with a cloth.
His mouth still tingling, Jim didn't move. He couldn't. Bones seemed to sense his struggle and placed his arm under Jim's head to steady it.
He sighed and relaxed, letting Bones support his weight.
Bones guided his head to rest on a pillow. "We don't have to hurry outta here, you know. Jojo just loves Spock's ears. I wouldn't be surprised if she was drawing them right now. We can take another minute," he murmured, palming Jim's forehead. His eyes were soft and concerned as he stared down at him. "Can you focus on me at all?"
The question made him squeeze his eyes shut. He needed more than minute. Just a day of not thinking, to pull himself together.
"Okay, that's okay. I think I know what provoked that one," Bones continued to murmur. "Take your time. Catch your breath, Jim. We'll have to be careful what we say from now on."
"Outside?" he managed in a tight voice.
Somewhere else, an open space where he could actually breathe, regain his composure, but selfishly, still have Bones beside him.
"After we spend a little time with Jojo, we can sit on the porch," Bones said decisively. "Then we should call it a night."
Jim opened his eyes then, meeting Bones's concerned gaze head on.
"You'll come back here tonight? Stay awhile when we're done on the porch?" he asked before he could put his thoughts through a filter. "I just…"
He didn't want to be alone.
He'd been alone under the glass.
"Sure. I don't think I want to be alone, either," Bones said, gaze softening.
And with that understanding look, Jim knew that he knew what he was thinking. If Bones ever quit being a doctor, he'd easily get a job as a mind reader.
"After I tuck Jojo in, I'll come down and check on ya," Bones drawled. "My mama always has a cot in that room. I'll stay until you're sleeping like a baby."
After a moment, Jim lifted himself up on one elbow, but that was as far as he got. He couldn't gather the strength to push himself off the bed. He tried again, but grunted in defeat, forced to lie on his back once more. His body was worn and uncooperative, weak and unaccustomed to the sheer amount of stress he'd experienced in the last hour alone.
He stared up at the ceiling, winded both physically and mentally. Like someone had slammed the brakes on him for the thousandth time.
"What the hell is wrong with me, Bones," he whispered, raising a hand to his head.
His fingers grazed his temple. With dismay he realized his tremors had returned. He couldn't keep his hand there long, bringing it heavily down to his chest. He covered it with his other arm, trying to hide the issue although there was no one to hide it from. Bones already knew.
"Nothing abnormal for someone recuperating from an irradiation. Here," Bones said, offering a hand to support Jim's back, another hand to pull him up.
Jim didn't see anything normal about taking a single step forward, only to be forced to take a dozen or more backwards.
"I think you'll feel better once you get on your feet," Bones murmured. "You were doing better walking around earlier."
He helped him sit on the edge of the bed and stepped back, waiting patiently as Jim blinked several times.
"Dizzy again?" Bones asked.
Jim rubbed his temple and nodded.
"Not surprised," the doctor muttered. "The hallucination alone could cause that effect, plus the meds…."
Bones fell silent and made Jim sit still another minute while he waved the tricorder over him like it was his magic wand. Finding absolutely everything that was and could be wrong with him.
He bit his tongue from saying anything to upset his well-meaning physician and straightened his back once the dizziness passed. He had to be fine. No set-backs. They'd had enough of those. He lifted his chin. Clenched his hands. Tucked them into the sides of his thighs. Stared resolutely ahead. Anything he could think of to show Bones he could do this.
"You need to eat more, Jim," was all Bones said as he watched the readings. "If we can get ya to keep it down," he said with a sigh.
The mention of food instantly reminded him of his previous struggle. Struggles. Although he didn't feel that familiar swirl of nausea that usually gripped his stomach, he clearly remembered it.
"About that…" he croaked, throat raw but feeling an inexplicable urge to explain why he'd had trouble eating earlier. And why, when he felt weakened, and less than a person, he might have trouble again. "About...that."
Bones must have heard the hesitance in his voice. "Ya sure you want to explain?" he asked. "Because you don't have to. Not today."
The warmth in his eyes gave Jim courage. He wasn't sure he really wanted to explain. It just seemed like a logical thing to do at the moment. "It's...the...it reminds me...the food, Bones."
Jim shivered for a third time and shut himself up.
Bones crossed his arms, lines deepening on his face. Lines Jim had put on his face.
Trying to 'share' had been a bad, bad idea. What had he been thinking? Talking about his aversions to food never, ever ended well.
"It reminds you of Tarsus," Bones said slowly, speaking for him. "Representing another time you were in poor health. That, in turn, makes you recall the starvation."
Jim wanted to gag. He wanted to stop wanting to gag. He'd endured worse without having issues like this, hadn't he?
"And that makes you remember the wastefulness you hated to see coming out of the famine. The wastefulness you still abhor which directly correlates with the injections and the symptoms they cause. Before you know it, you're thinking of Tarsus all over again. And then," Bones paused. "The next injections."
He was relieved that Bones could figure him out seamlessly like this.
"It's an endless cycle, Jim, but we can try some things to make it easier for you," Bones said in a soft voice.
"How...how did you...know," he struggled to say.
"Have you forgotten how long I've known you?" Bones shook his head. "Jim, for the most part, I know what's going on in that head of yours."
"That's a scary thought," he rasped, grinning crookedly.
Bones's eyes filled with surprise. "There's the captain I know."
It humbled him to hear the relief in his friend's voice. "He's just…" He inhaled deeply. "Taking a break."
"He's there. I saw him answer the front door and confront the world's biggest asshole," Bones said, coming closer.
Jim barked a laugh. "You really watched that, huh?"
"I'll do anything to help you get through your next meal. Jojo wanted to watch a movie, so we'll make it a family night in the living room, just like we used to have." He paused. "Is that okay with you? We won't do it if it's not something you'd like."
He'd had wicked scratches on his arm, a bizarre symptom of withdrawal. He exuded a lack of common sense, which had nearly landed him in a hospital. Hell, he could hardly even eat half a pancake let alone a real meal. He was clearly the patient. Clearly someone who shouldn't be in charge. Why the hell was Bones asking him if it was okay with him?
"Are you crazy?" he blurted.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he could've smacked himself alongside the head. Only an idiot would've said that.
Bones blinked at him. "Well, not since I last checked."
"Well, I am," he said stubbornly. "I make crazy…" he winced. "Decisions."
"You need to give yourself credit," Bones said softly. "I can see it in your eyes, Jim. You want to have this time and it's okay to want it. We'll try it and see how it goes, though your dinner will probably consist of soup or broth..."
"I forgot about Spock," he interjected.
He was a sick, sick man who'd just admitted to experiencing even more trouble.
"So do I at times," Bones deadpanned. "And not by accident."
They quietly stared at each other. Jim opened his mouth to speak, then quickly shut it.
Bones kept a straight face, but after a few second's pause between the two of them, Jim couldn't take it anymore.
He began to laugh.
"Aw, fuck, that was as funny as hell, Bones," he sputtered.
"I need to find your slippers," Bones muttered, deflecting.
Jim covered his mouth, trying to stop his laughter. "Make sure you get the matching ones to my pajamas, if you can remember where they are," he said, snickering. Bones gave him a look. "This is what I'm wearing tonight. Can't even get out of my pjs and slippers, anyway."
Or what looked like pajamas. And he would be wearing slippers to protect his feet this time. Dammit, he'd wear whatever Bones wanted him to wear to make things easier for him as his physician. Except for a straight jacket.
"I'd rather you be comfortable," Bones said, brow twitching. "Are you stalling here for some reason? Jim, Spock is not going to know you forgot about him."
"Well," Jim scratched his head. "He is a touch telepath."
Bones stared at him, hands falling to his sides. "He's not going to know, and even if he did, he would understand. Jim, you'd never forget about Spock because he's your friend and first officer."
"I'm not stalling. It's just...I don't even have to get ready for family night this time. Or get in a craft. Or brush my teeth, but I might since I want to set a good example for Jo—" Jim realized he was rambling and Bones was literally staring at him with a gaping mouth, but he couldn't stop, "—But no answering the front doors, Bones. We all know how unpredictable those are now. But my bedroom door is okay. Er...I guess it's not mine, but your mom's…" He paused, scratching his chin. "Never mind. I won't go there. That's not what I meant, either."
Bones's anxious expression disappeared. He sighed, rolling his eyes at the same time. "You're such a moron," he muttered.
Jim smiled like he'd paid him a compliment.
Bones sighed. "What have I gotten myself into?"
"A movie night with your daughter and her artistic muse, Spock. Oh, and your best friend wearing pjs in your mother's living room," Jim retorted.
What Bones had suggested might help them get through this long convalescence of his. It made things...normal. This was something he used to plan with Joanna, but hadn't felt like doing for a long time.
"Jojo will be happy you'll be watching the movie with us," Bones said, his near-smile causing excitement to bubble in Jim's chest.
A smile on Bones's face? It'd been far too long.
"Yeah," Jim agreed. "She will be."
"I'll get an extra pillow for you and a plate of food ready and…" Bones looked at him sheepishly. "Spock."
"What about him?" Jim asked.
"I forgot he's here," Bones said, wincing.
Jim snorted.
Bones frowned. "On second thought, do you think he'll mind the movie?"
"No. He'll love it. But whatever you do, don't tell him—"
"We forgot about him," Bones sighed exasperatedly. "I really didn't mean to," He muttered, suddenly peering at the floor and under the bed in a flurry of activity. "Let me find your slippers for you. I think I know where they are."
Before Jim could say a word, Bones turned and walked into the bathroom.
He hoped the evening wouldn't be too much. A normal night was all he could physically handle at the moment. Probably the only setting he could handle for a few more weeks.
Bones reappeared, carrying the pair of slippers. "These should keep your feet protected."
He set them on the floor beside him. Jim slipped into them and stood, using Bones as an anchor to steady himself.
"You will explain Treadway, right?" Jim asked quietly, looking Bones right in the eye.
"Yes," he snapped.
Jim's brows shot up.
"I wish that man had never…" Bones's eyes flashed, words breaking off.
He sighed, sitting heavily on the bed, taking Jim's recently vacated place.
"I didn't mean to lash out at you," Bones murmured, voice muffled, head down in his hands. "You just caught me by surprise. I'll talk about it and answer your questions later. Let's not ruin the next few hours by bringing his name up again."
Bones lifted his head. Jim stared down at him, foot in mouth.
He should've known better than to bring it up in the first place. The thing was, he still had the overwhelming urge to do whatever he needed to do to fix this problem for Bones. To somehow purge this intimidating, manipulating man from Jocelyn and Jojo's life.
"You have a right to ask, Jim," Bones continued, as if sensing the battle in his head. "Especially after what he put you through. But I don't want to ruin our time together, talking about that man and what he almost did to you. He could've put you in the hospital. For a long, long time. One punch to the face, Jim. That's all it would've taken."
He'd had years of practicing his composure—two decades, actually—but even he had to admit that the reminder of how close he'd been to getting pounded by two massive fists cracked his mask. Because Bones was right.
Clay Treadway had the power to irrevocably damage his recovery, leaving the Enterprise without a captain. Her crew without a captain. Bones without...him.
"Okay," he relented, if only for the doctor's own sanity. "If that's what you want."
"Nothin' we can do about it tonight, anyway," Bones said.
Walking with him to the bedroom door, Jim clung to the sense of normalcy that Bones projected. With any luck, he'd turn to him for help with the situation sooner rather than later. Allowing him a chance to help, not go behind his back.
Or the way he saw it inevitably play out in his head—a way that was altogether dangerous.
oOo
McCoy admitted his concern that they were pushing things on a medical level—but only to himself. He disliked the dark circles under Jim's eyes, the tremors, the other things he was trained to see. Yet, he couldn't deny the thrill he felt watching the younger man's excitement over the prospect of spending time with Jojo and Spock. So when they emerged from the bedroom, he was almost positive this would bolster both of their spirits.
There was only one thing that would be waiting in the shadows—the inevitable talk about Treadway.
He preferred to ease into it. The movie with Jojo had no place for a talk like that, and the porch seemed too much of a peace offering. At least he'd finally be able to talk about deeper, troubling things in a place that always made the younger man happy.
Jim was like a kid when it came to simple things like porch swings and backyard gardens. Especially his Mama's garden. Things that most people would take for granted. But not Jim. Never Jim.
McCoy turned just as Jim leaned in toward Spock, hiding his mouth behind his hand.
"We almost forgot about you," he heard him whisper. "I mean. Bones did."
Good Lord, Jim Kirk would never grow up.
Spock quirked a brow.
"Yep," Jim said proudly like a child who'd eaten his all vegetables just because he was a tattletale. "But I didn't. Nope. I mean, I don't make it a habit like Bones does."
Jim Kirk was a child disguised as a Starfleet captain. It figured he'd spill the beans and tell Spock right off the bat. McCoy walked up to Jim and gently smacked the back of his head.
"Ya moron," he grumbled.
"Ow," Jim complained, vigorously rubbing the back of his head. "What did I do to deserve that?"
"For giving Spock the wrong idea."
"Anyway, don't feel badly." Jim turned back to Spock. "I'm just suffering from side effects from that shitty hallucination I had earlier, and Bones is always a little grumpy about you because he's trying to show you he cares in his own way." He frowned. "It's a strange way to show someone that they care. It's the 23rd century, who does that anymore? Play the grump card? I guess Bones does. But as you know, Bones sometimes smiles because he's full of southern grace and charm and makes sure I have my slippers."
"That makes no sense," McCoy stopped, blinking at Jim.
It sounded more like delirium. The second time in less than ten minutes that Jim took to rambling nonsense.
Jim shrugged. "All I'm saying is that we love having Spock here and you're being old-fashioned."
McCoy bit back a retort, but couldn't suppress an exaggerated eye roll. "I'm not old-fashioned."
Jim frowned. "Yes, you are."
He narrowed his eyes. "Am not."
Jim's frown deepened. "You are. You're old-er, and take after your grandmother. That's being old-fashioned in my book, Bones. Add in the grumpiness. The slippers. And there you have it."
Unbelievable.
"The slippers were to protect your feet. That's being a good doctor," he defended himself.
Maybe he should've made Jim stay in the bedroom in the state of insanity he was in.
Spock stared at Jim curiously. "I find your logic fascinating. However, it is, for a lack of a better word, discombobulated."
"It's not that bad." Jim grinned back at him, stretching the grin wider when Spock said the word discombobulated. "Bones is old-fashioned. He likes old houses and he opens doors for women. He likes nice, fluffy cushioned chairs like his Nana did, not to mention he whistles just as loudly. Just like her. Oh, and just like Pi—"
The name died on his lips. But they'd heard it loud and clear.
Just like Pike.
McCoy didn't dare breathe as Jim's face started to crumple. Spock took a single step forward but then the captain caught himself. Spock froze, Jim biting his bottom lip. He gnawed on it with his teeth, face twisted in a pained expression.
McCoy forced his hands out of the fists they's made. Everything in him wanted to comfort Jim, make the hurt that he had to deal with on top of his ill health simply go away. Grief was the natural part of loss, and they'd all had to deal with Pike's passing. Yet it was hardly natural for Jim. He'd had less time than anyone to deal with Pike's death, the man who'd been like a father to him, at the very least a mentor. But he merely stood, arms at his sides, a bystander, reading Jim's cue that he didn't want to talk about it at this moment in time.
After a swelling pause, Jim swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. He laughed shakily. "Ever hear Bones whistle, Spock? Piercing. Hurts the ears," he continued, his frail voice gradually growing into a stronger rasp.
McCoy hesitated only for a second. He'd distract Jim, act normally in hopes that he'd return his focus to the evening ahead.
"Nooooo sense," he muttered, drawing out each word. "What do cushioned chairs have to do with anything?"
Spock wore a strange look on his face, as if he agreed with him.
A scary thought in and of itself.
Mercifully, Jim's eyes brightened as he glanced between the two of them. He placed his hand on his chest, over his heart. "I'm hurt," he said in a mocking whisper.
McCoy inwardly sighed with equal parts of relief and chagrin. Clearly this had been the best and safest way to encourage Jim to both spread his wings—and act like an idiot. Despite the slight hiccup of the underlying grief that was still so fresh.
"Maybe a guest was too much," he grumbled. "Especially an uninvited one."
Jim glanced sharply at Spock. "He means no offense, Spock."
"I take no offense, Jim," Spock stated.
"He's glad you're here," Jim continued earnestly, as if Spock hadn't said a word. "So am I. I mean, you saved me from a walloping. Kinda hard not to be grateful. He's just grumpy because I have a reason to dress comfortably in pajama pants and slippers and he's stuck like...like that." He waved a dismissive hand towards McCoy. "A miserable get-up, if you ask me."
McCoy narrowed his eyes, but refused to look down at himself even though two pairs of eyes inspected his clothing. He was dressed fine, thank you very much.
Two could play at this game.
"Would it be better for me to ignore you or pretend that statement is actually true?" he deadpanned.
Jim wagged his brows. "Oh, you do whatever you think is best. I'm sure you will later on."
Oh, brother.
No one could've missed the innuendo or his lazy smirk. Spock's own brows lifted astronomically high. McCoy hadn't seen this coming at all. Clearly, neither had Spock.
Jim was in a mood. This was going to be one long, long night.
"Fine. I'll just ignore you, then," McCoy said and turned his back without warning, Jim laughing behind him.
It was a damn good sound.
oOo
Bones didn't ignore him the rest of the night. Because of that, Jim naturally felt inclined to talk more, see how far he could push him with his nonsense. For when did he ever have Bones's full attention lately, other than when he was sick?
He also knew that if he could do one thing for Bones, it was to provide a distraction from the overarching problems for a few hours. And provide a distraction he would. With said nonsense.
He spied Jojo on the floor, sprawled out and organizing books, stuffed animals, and art supplies in her backpack. He straightened his shoulders and walked up to her. "Ready to watch that movie with us, Jojo?" a hoarse whisper all he could manage with his raw throat.
She looked up in surprise and sprang to her feet. She launched herself at him like he'd said he was taking her to her favorite store for new books or to the fair for rides and cotton candy, wrapping her arms around his waist. Somehow, he managed to hold his own with a limpet stuck to his legs.
"Uncle Jim, how'd ya know that's what I wanted to do?" she asked excitedly.
"Well," he began, scratching his head, "we like a lot of the same things. Pizza…" He paused as her head bobbed up and down. "Chocolate cake. Books. Night lights. Worms." He hesitated again. "And a night like this, when it's raining, I know I want to curl up under a blanket and watch a good show."
"Uh-huh," she said, a smile blooming on her face. "Right next to Daddy. So we can cuddle."
"Right next to your Daddy to cuddle," he affirmed with a straight face, glancing over her head at Bones. He smirked. "I think that's a fantastic idea, Jojo."
"Infant," the doctor grumbled under his breath. "Ever think that it should be Dr. Marcus instead of me next to you on the couch, Jim?"
He instantly had a vision of the petite science officer—and her smile.
Jim narrowed his eyes at him. "What does...does that have to...what…" he sputtered. "I don't even know her, Bones," he almost shouted at the end.
He didn't know her. Not really. Not that that had ever stopped him in the past, with other partners.
Bones smirked. "Like barely knowing someone ever stopped you before, Jim."
"But...I-I don't…" he stopped abruptly and groaned, ending his stammering before he made a fool of himself.
"Sure, kid," Bones drawled. "You just keep telling yourself that, thinking you can hide something like that from me."
"I will, thank you," he said indignantly.
"Jim?" a gentle voice asked to his left.
Grateful for the diversion, he glanced over at Nora. His chest filled with warmth at the wide smile she gave him.
"You have to be famished after all this excitement. Do you feel up to eating anything?" she asked sweetly, saving him from the increasingly uncomfortable banter with Bones. "Leonard asked if you could all eat in here, where it's more comfortable. It's about time someone uses my new dinner trays."
"Oh, goodie!" Jojo said, squeezing his waist more.
"Jim?" Nora asked again, hesitantly.
Jim swallowed, feeling Bones's eyes boring into him. Endless cycle? Maybe he could break that cycle tonight.
Jojo wiggled out of his arms and picked up her bag.
"Yes, I do," he said roughly, swallowing.
"I'll get you soup, Jim," Bones offered, straightening and half-turning for the kitchen.
"No," Nora interjected quickly. She placed her palm on his chest, stopping him. Shaking her head, she patted his chest twice. "Leave it to me. And leave the blankets to Spock."
Jim frowned as she walked away. Leave the blankets to Spock?
Where was Spock? Hadn't he just been here? He craned his neck and peered behind Bones through the doorway. Sure enough there he was, coming in from the hallway, holding not one but two blankets, one of them very similar to the quilt on his bed.
Spock walked up to him. "If you are amenable, I will assist you once you take your seat, Jim," he said.
"You don't have to do that, Spock."
"I do not ask out of obligation," the Vulcan said calmly.
It didn't take Jim long to understand that Spock wouldn't take no for an answer, that he was insistent on helping.
And it made perfect sense. There were a limited number of things that other people could do for him since he'd been discharged from the hospital, babysitting being at the top of the list. He'd had nurses, housekeeping, and Bones to take care of everything else, yet his crew had been there for him whenever they'd been able. Jim also knew from speaking with Uhura that Spock had admitted to feeling inadequate at times. Especially when Jim wasn't up to company.
But he was up to company now. Maybe it'd be good for Bones if Spock chipped in, killing two birds with one stone. Giving Spock purpose while he was here and giving Bones a break.
He smiled at his friend. "Right. Thanks, Spock."
While Bones set up the movie, Jim chose the far corner of the couch and eased into a seat on the cushion. He usually sat in the middle, but since Jojo wanted to sit by her father, this was best place to be.
Jojo must have agreed. She hopped on to the couch, leaving a space in between them.
"Uncle Jim?" she asked, drawing her knees up to her chin.
Jim glanced sideways at her while Spock unfolded the blanket. She put her chin on her knees and blinked several times at him.
"Are you cold?" she asked in a small voice.
"I probably will be after I eat," he said, already grateful for the blanket Spock draped over his lap.
He hugged it closer, rubbing his fingers along either side of the hem to feel its softness and slight texture. A habit he'd learned over the years, as blankets had always provided comfort for him one way or another at various times in his life.
Whenever his mother had been absent for long periods of time, he'd curled under a blanket and beneath his bed, waiting until Sam found him. Cried under its shroud after Sam had left for good and the reality of his rebellious act, driving a car over a cliff, hit him. Rubbed the blanket soothingly all over his body after Frank's hands had been on him, in a futile effort to wipe out the imprint of abuse. On Tarsus, he'd given it away for others to use on chilly nights, where it'd been a tool for survival. In jail, he'd fought tooth and nail, breaking flesh and bone, all for the single thin, foul smelling blanket in the cell. And now, it'd turned into something simple that reminded him of Bones's home. Jim's only Terran home, in a sense, for he'd never go back to the farmhouse in Riverside. Not if he could help it.
Spock unfolded the second blanket and spread it over Jojo's folded legs, an endearing gesture from the Vulcan.
She gripped the hem, twisting the fabric in her hands. "I don't want you to be cold. I don't want you to be sick anymore."
Ever a McCoy, she wore a brave face. But he'd had practice seeing below the surface of that McCoy mask.
"Every day I get a little stronger, Jojo," he assured her in a rasp.
"Not when you have...the in...the in…" She scrunched up her face.
"Injections?" Spock offered, eyeing Jim when he failed to speak up.
Jim's mouth pressed into a firm line. He hadn't wanted to correct Jojo. The less he said about those injections the better.
"Yeah," she whispered.
"The therapy is helping the captain, Joanna," Spock said, eyes warm as he looked at her.
She blinked at him. "It doesn't seem like it. Not when Uncle Jim can't eat a big piece of chocolate cake like I can. Or play hide and seek like he used to, when we go into our hidey holes and no one can find us," she said sadly.
Jim missed those days, the memories he used to make with Jojo, too. So he knew how much it hurt her.
"I know it doesn't, Jojo. It doesn't seem like it to me, sometimes, either," he said hoarsely, wanting to be as honest as possible. "But I trust your dad, Jojo. And if he says things are improving, then they are."
"Then...do you think we can play a game tomorrow?" she asked, eyes wide.
He hated to disappoint her.
"Maybe a card game," he said carefully.
"Oh," she whispered, face falling.
He felt even worse for having gotten her hopes up.
"Captain, would you care for a glass of Mrs. McCoy's iced tea?" Spock asked.
The captain threw him. So did the question itself. Jim took a few seconds to find his voice. "I would, Spock. Thank you."
Spock shifted lightly on his feet, poised to leave. Jim glanced at Jojo. She wouldn't look back at him now.
"What if Mister Spock joins us tomorrow?" Jim quickly suggested.
Spock paused and turned back around, hands calmly at his sides. Jojo peered at him from under her lashes.
"Spock?" Jim asked. "Feel up to playing poker with Jojo tomorrow?"
Jojo instantly giggled. "I don't know how to play poker, Uncle Jim."
"Oh," he said, feigning disappointment. "Well, then. Go Fish?"
"Uh-huh," she nodded.
"I am not averse to the idea," Spock said.
"Count me in," Bones drawled, coming out of nowhere, settling into the seat between Jim and Jojo.
He stretched out, long legs in front of him and arms across the top of the couch. Looking content. Looking happy.
Jim sighed with relief.
Bones glanced sideways at him. "You okay?" he mouthed.
He nodded. "Just thirsty."
Spock brought him tea and opted to stay nearby to get him anything else he might need, which came in handy when he needed yet another blanket. Nora returned with his soup a few minutes later. He let the soup cool while he watched the movie. That's what he told himself, anyway. He was really trying to summon up the nerve to eat again while everyone else enjoyed their own hot meal.
In the end, his soup cooled a little too much.
And he couldn't eat it.
Jim stared down at the bowl in growing horror. He'd saved lives for fuck's sake, space jumped twice, but he couldn't eat his soup cold? It wasn't enough that he just couldn't eat, like before. He had to be sensitive to the damn temperature of his food? He couldn't ask Bones to reheat it, could he? That idea alone was ridiculous. It was his own fault, he'd allowed it to just sit.
It didn't take long for Bones to notice. "Jim?" he whispered, anxious eyes searching his face. "Is it the food again?"
Jim clenched his jaw, not wanting to make another scene.
"Jim?" Bones asked again. When he didn't answer, Bones began to pull the tray away. "We'll try something else a little later."
"Wait," Jim said quickly, stopping him. "It just needs…it needs…"
It needed absolutely nothing. Maybe a little heat. He, on the other hand, he needed things to return to normal.
Spock was at Jim's side before he could blink. He stared down at him. "It is too cold to eat," he correctly assessed and picked up the tray of food. "I will warm it for you."
Jim nodded numbly, not trusting his voice to express his gratitude.
"Thank you, Spock," Bones said, wrapping an arm around Jojo, never taking his eyes off Jim.
Jim rested his head back against the couch, drawing from the strength and concern of his best friend. He was relieved when no one said another word about the incident. He felt better when no one made a big deal about his...inconsistencies. When Spock returned with the soup, he managed to eat half of the given portion. It wasn't enough by most doctors' standards, but the look on Bones's face told him it was more than satisfactory.
An hour into the movie, Jojo's eyes closed. Her head fell heavily against her father's shoulder.
"Time for bed, darlin'," Bones murmured, tucking her under his arm.
"Nooo, wan' you, Daddy," she slurred, eyes squeezed shut.
"I'll be here tomorrow," her father soothed.
"Because of Uncle Jim," she murmured tiredly. "He's sick. You'll be with him. Like Mommy is with Mister Clay. I think I'll just play with Nana."
The room erupted into silence.
Jim froze, not registering the frightfully anxious look Bones sent him. All he thought of was Jojo, the last person he wanted to hurt. He'd thought things were okay, that he was getting over the uncertainty that he was the third wheel and in the way, distracting Bones from his family.
Clearly, he'd been disillusioned. Caught up in these happy moments, it had all gone to his head.
The reality of his situation hit him again. It would be better for everyone if he returned to San Francisco, putting distance between them. Captain or no captain—because he certainly didn't feel like one—he could at least solve this one problem.
He pushed aside the rising self pity and thought of the ones who mattered, making his decision.
"I'll be on the porch." Jim's hoarse voice was a shout in the quiet room.
"Jim, she's only tired..." Bones began.
Jim shook his head to stop him and stood, smile small. It went beyond a seven-year-old's bedtime.
"Good night, Jojo," he said warmly.
"Night, Uncle Jim," she said, yawning as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Go Fish?"
He wasn't sure he'd still be here tomorrow, but maybe he could squeeze in a game in the morning. "Sure."
"Jim…" Bones began again.
There was a hint of apology in his voice, pleading in his eyes, but he ignored them. Bones didn't have to apologize for anything.
"I'll see you later," he said, nodding.
Bones hesitated but finally turned and took his daughter upstairs to her bedroom, Jojo's arms hanging limply, already asleep in her father's arms.
Back straight, shouldering the burden, Jim went his own way. He was aware he should have asked Bones for that mask he was to wear while he was outside. But he didn't. If he'd be traveling back to San Francisco, the trip alone might send him into the hospital again, anyway. The lack of a mask shouldn't matter much.
"Captain," Spock said, standing at the doorway as Jim settled on the porch swing.
"Yes, Spock," he said with a subdued sigh, unsurprised he'd followed him outside. He stared out at the darkened garden, the night dismal with the falling rain, his spirits careening.
"You do not have to leave," Spock said, coming to stand beside the swing. "They do not wish for you to go."
"Mind reader," Jim muttered.
"I did not read your mind," Spock hesitated, hands clasped behind him. "That is, not at this time."
Jim grimaced. The hallucination. "Sorry about that."
"It is not necessary to apologize. You could not control the situation."
"You can't tell me you really wanted to experience that all over again, Spock." Jim, dying. Losing control behind the glass.
"It was rather unpleasant," Spock said, blinking once. "However, I am accustomed to thinking on your death...quite often."
Oh.
Jim wanted to crawl under the swing and hide. Of course Spock would be reliving those moments, too. But he hadn't really thought of that. If he had, he hadn't thought about it hard enough. All this time, all these weeks, he'd been too caught up with his own strife to remember that of his friends.
"I'm sorry," he said, truly remorseful.
"An apology is not necessary."
"Yes, it is." Jim whispered as loudly as he could. "I should apologize to you...Scotty. Uhura."
Everyone.
Spock's eyes were piercing. "You should not feel guilty, Jim. Your crew has seen counselors. They have all seen you."
"It's not the same. Being here isn't the same." How could he not feel guilty? He couldn't help but question everything he did when it came to Bones and his family. Not to mention his crew, who meant more to him than he could say. Jim's shoulders curved forward. "I shouldn't be here. I should be where I can recuperate the fastest without anyone else around."
Where he could begin thinking like a captain again. It seemed like his mind was constantly muddled, making him a fool where everyone else was concerned. The drug therapy kept him in a damn bubble—and he was fucking tired of it.
"That is not what he wants," Spock said gently. "And the crew understands your need for extended recuperation."
"Maybe it's what I want, Spock."
Spock fell silent.
Jim shrugged and leaned back against the seat, using his feet to shift it backward. He let go to let it swing. "You never know, it may be what I even need to do to kick this shit."
Apart. Alone. Away from the man that had risked his career for him. And not just any man. His best friend.
His thoughts turned a dark corner. He'd overcome the treatments but simultaneously die of loneliness.
"I have one request," Spock said after a moment.
Jim eyed him. "Yes?"
Spock inclined his head. "Do not make a rash decision tonight. It would be—"
"Illogical?" Jim finished for him.
"Indeed."
"I'm nothing if not illogical." He felt like grinning and did.
Spock's eyes softened. "You are the prime candidate for the five year mission."
Jim stopped the swing short, heart in his throat.
He stared at Spock. "What did you just say?" he whispered.
If he didn't know any better, Spock had just given him a well-played diversion.
"I was given classified information by Admiral Archer," Spock explained. "You are the prime candidate for the mission in which you have shown great interest."
"I can't be," he said, holding his breath.
"You are, Jim," Spock said softly.
"Classified?" Jim asked numbly. "Archer told you, and now you're telling me this classified information?"
Spock's mouth twitched at the corners. "Indeed, the admiral was...carefree."
"I'll say," Jim could hardly believe it. "I'm not even halfway done with these treatments. My hands shake. I have these...episodes. PTSD. How can they be sure I'll even be able to command a ship ever again?"
"Do you see yourself commanding a ship again?" Spock countered. "Do you want to?"
Did Scotty like whiskey? Sulu, his sharp and shining swords? Bones, his never-ending metaphors?
"Yes, to both questions," he said honestly. "I do."
He wanted to with his whole heart.
Spock inclined his head. "That is your answer...Captain."
So it was. Jim offered him a smile. "Thanks, Spock."
"I desire only to fulfill my duty as your first officer."
"Only?" Jim said, teasing him. "You did come out here on a whim."
"I value our friendship and that of Doctor McCoy. I value our friendship—together." Spock broke his stance and walked to the edge of the porch, staring out into the darkness. "I did not come here on a whim."
"No, I guess you didn't," Jim murmured, touched by his words. "You do know, though, that without you this evening would have ended a lot differently."
"You would be in the hospital," Spock pointed out.
Jim leaned his head back against the swing. "He's dangerous, Spock."
"Thus, we must err on the side of caution," Spock replied. "I will begin my investigation with Treadway, himself."
"Be careful. Uhura would skin me alive if you get hurt." Jim sighed, fighting back a yawn. "I will do what I can, maybe make a few contacts."
He had several old buddies who owed him, who were not above making and following through with threats. Not that it would be his source of action now, but it wouldn't hurt to have a backup to Spock's plan.
Spock's eyes filled with displeasure.
"I can't get hurt from my bed," Jim scoffed, though he half-expected Spock to list at least a dozen ways in which he could, including suffocation or falling off or even boredom. "I can't get hurt while I'm on the couch."
"It is unlikely," Spock said. "However, I must insist that you discuss your concerns with me before taking any action."
"Agreed." Jim would attempt to make a wise decision. An unselfish decision that was based not on his desire to fix Bones's problem but on the concerns and needs of his friends.
He'd be an idiot not to see that his own health was at the top of their list. More was at stake than his own ego or selfish desires, as much as he hated to admit his own frailty.
Spock's eyes brightened. "It is a wise choice," he affirmed. "If you do not require company before the doctor is finished with Joanna, I will speak with Nyota before I retire for the night."
"Go talk with Uhura. I'm perfectly fine," Jim said, taking a deep breath. He'd missed just sitting on this porch, sitting anywhere to enjoy the outdoors. "I won't be staying out here long, anyway."
"The doctor will not be pleased if you retire earlier than planned," Spock said.
Jim relaxed his shoulders with a shrug. "Thanks to the therapy, I've been keeping him up at odd hours through the night. He needs sleep more than I do right now."
One look at Spock was all Jim needed to know he found the statement hard to believe.
He fought a sigh. "I realize you might not agree with that, Spock. Yes, he's had Nora to help some, but it hasn't been easy on him. He should get a good night's sleep since Jojo will be around all day tomorrow."
"I am certain the doctor would appreciate your concerns, but it is not what he desires."
"Fine. I'll stay," he said reluctantly. "I'll wait for Bones."
The Vulcan said nothing in reply. Worse, he could not read his face. That alone was unnerving.
"I won't fuck this up like I've fucked up everything else in my life, Spock," he said, tone dry.
"I did not mean to infer that you would," Spock said, words soft and deliberate, as if to offer comfort. "I am merely pleased that the two people whom I hold in the highest regard have begun healing their friendship."
Spock straightened his shoulders and prepared to leave.
"You came for both of us, thank you." Jim hesitated. "Is Uhura okay with you being here...when things with Treadway…?" he let the sentence to hang.
"I cannot speak for her because I do not know," Spock said simply.
Jim frowned. "Does that mean you haven't told Uhura about the possible danger?"
He let the question dangle again. Of course he hadn't, not unless he'd told her in the last few hours.
"If you are referring to the threat on your well-being, I have not," Spock affirmed.
Jim's brow furrowed. Uhura was far too intuitive. "She'll know you're hiding something if she asks specifically about the situation and you give her a vague answer."
Spock hesitated. "I would prefer truthfulness, yes."
"I trust you both," Jim stated.
"I will not elaborate unless I am specifically asked."
"Is that the Vulcan code of honor?" Jim said in jest.
"Indeed." Spock said, quirking a brow. "Excuse me, Captain."
Jim nodded in acknowledgement. After Spock walked back into the house, he settled deeper into his spot on the swing until he found a somewhat comfortable place to rest his head. The next conversation was bound to put him between a rock and a hard place. He hoped Bones would understand and then agree that he would recover best in the hospital or alone at his apartment, after all. That they'd tried a different approach, but Jim had to go back.
He closed his eyes, giving in to the fatigue that had been settling deep into his marrow all evening.
"Hey," a familiar voice nudged Jim's eyes open.
He squinted up, confused. He thought he'd just closed his eyes a second ago but the weighted feeling he had throughout his body told him otherwise. "Yeah," he muttered.
Bones winced. "Sorry to awaken you."
"No," he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "Not a problem."
"Mind if sit with you?" Bones asked, expression unreadable.
Jim gave a short nod. Bones sat down beside him.
Neither spoke for a moment. The silence wasn't exactly comfortable, but neither was it awkward. Jim could tell Bones wanted to speak first, so he waited.
"Do not step one foot outside this house tomorrow, Jim," Bones finally said, voice low. He set his jaw. "Or in a hovercraft."
Jim took a sharp breath.
"Yeah, I know what you're thinkin'," Bones said stiffly. He carded a hand through his hair, glancing sideways at him. "Knew before Spock even said a single word to me."
"Traitor," Jim muttered.
"He just wants to help. I'll chain your hide to your bed if I have to."
Jim rolled his eyes.
Bones gave a dry laugh. "You really think it would be easier on me if you're miles away and I'm here? Where all I can do is worry, never checking for myself how you are?"
Once again, Jim cursed his poor health that clouded his thinking. He shook his head. He couldn't argue with that. "No," he admitted.
"Yeah, didn't think so," Bones groused. "Idiot."
"Your idiot," Jim muttered.
In the dim light of the darkened porch, he saw the corners of the doctor's lips lift. "You bet your ass you are."
Jim laughed lightly. "Just so we agree on that one."
"Sure do," Bones drawled.
It still didn't solve the biggest, most important problem. Jim's presence was beginning to upset Jojo.
He threw caution to the wind. "I'll stay in my room for the most part tomorrow," he said. "I think...it might be best."
"I see," Bones said, eyes hardening. "And you want to do that because...?"
Jim looked away, finding some random outline of foliage in the darkness to focus on. He wanted to remain in his room for a lot of reasons. He'd be out of sight, for one. Out of mind, for another, at least for a little while.
No longer causing problems in Bones's life.
Treadway. Joanna.
If he hadn't been so damn clingy in his apartment that one day, he'd still be there. In his apartment. In San Francisco. He was sure of it. But that wasn't what had happened. He'd been selfish, practically twisting Bones's arm to bring him along.
He rested his head back against the swing, seeing it all so clearly. He was the distraction he'd never wanted to be for Bones—but would always be.
"Jim?" Bones asked, eyes anxiously searching his face in the dim light of the porch.
Heart beginning to race, Jim scraped up the courage to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue.
"Bones, why did you, really, bring me with you?" he asked. "I'm in the way, even here in Georgia."
Bones was quiet for several minutes. Jim's lids drifted down as the porch swing rocked hypnotically back and forth, the hiss of gentle rain lulling him back to sleep. As his eyes closed, he heard Bones's soft voice.
"You're not in my way, or anyone else's, Jim. You're here so I can remind you, once and for all, that we don't leave anyone behind." Bones's low voice slipped over him, countering the constant pattering of raindrops and beckoning a response.
Jim opened his eyes and turned his head on the pillow to look at his best friend.
"You, me," Bones said, staring intently at him. "We're in this together. If Spock is right, and you get that five year mission like you've wanted—"
"He told you?" Jim interrupted, though he really shouldn't be surprised that he had.
"Yes," Bones said. "Just before I came out. I won't let you go without me, Jim. And we both know that you have to go."
Jim's chest swelled with an overwhelming mix of emotion. Gratitude and relief, mixed with another. An emotion he was damn sure he'd never let himself feel for another human being in years but felt every time he thought of Bones. Brotherly love, something he'd never felt for his own damn brother.
"But you hate space," he forced himself to say.
Because if Bones had to retract his words, he'd give him all the opportunities he needed to do that. Just to make sure.
"Yeah, I do." Bones winced. "Especially now."
The words he'd said on that shuttle came back to Jim.
Disease. Danger. Darkness. Silence.
Numbly thinking of the number of times he'd pounded the core with his feet to realign it, he added another.
Separation.
"But without you, I'd face more darkness than I care to know," the doctor continued in a quiet voice. "I'd limp along, never living quite right."
And so would Jim. He saw that now, more than ever.
"What about Jojo?" he asked. He squeezed his knee, the only way he knew to actually comfort him at a time like this.
Bones sighed. "Just like she has to get used to Treadway being in her mother's life, she has to grow more accustomed to you. Not that she isn't used to you, and God knows you're her favorite, but things will change once we head into the black."
"Treadway?" he asked.
Bones suddenly looked utterly and completely resigned. "I can't fight for her the way you want me to, Jim. For her sake, I can't," he admitted.
Jim had never heard him sound so sad. As if he'd truly given up. Lost all hope. It wasn't the Bones he knew. But who was he to talk? He wasn't the same, either.
"Maybe it's for the best," Bones continued, rubbing his face. "Jocelyn will have her, and I'll be in the black."
Jim nodded although he didn't like Bones's decision. Or agree with it.
"Treadway hinted that he knew you'd been...in trouble," Jim hedged.
"I imagine if I yield my rights to Jojo, he'll keep his mouth shut if he knows anything," Bones said, face drawn tight. "And even if he doesn't know, I can't antagonize him. He'll only investigate more. It's the only way that Jojo comes out of this unharmed."
"She needs you, Bones." Jim hated to even think of her living under Treadway's roof. Or with a mother who was clearly not herself. Her father—Bones—was the one who was the example of integrity. Courage. Perseverance. Compassion. All the things Jojo needed to see in her young life.
Bones shook his head. "She needs stability. Which she'd get if Jocelyn wasn't worried about me getting in the way. I don't want Jojo to see my name—her father's name—dragged in the mud," Bones said, glancing up at the sky. He looked deep in thought, moistening his lips with his tongue, taking his time to reply. "I don't want things surrounding your death coming to public light, either. It'd only create more chaos. Hell, it'd cause an entire disastrous domino effect that we can't get into."
He was right about that, but Jim didn't believe in no-win scenarios. And now that they were three again, he believed in them even less.
"If they knew the truth they might reconsider," he suggested.
Bones looked at him, warning in his eyes. "You could really see Clay Treadway listening to what I had to say? Retracting his plan for sole custody? Jocelyn, too?"
"Maybe, maybe not," Jim said slowly. "Depending on the pull Jocelyn has on Treadway, there's a chance—"
"No, that man clearly wants to fight. It's too risky," Bones said, shaking his head. "And I'm asking you, Jim, to not get yourself involved. In any of it. Please."
Jim filled his lungs with as large a breath as he could take. That was asking a lot. His jaw clenched, the tension traveling downward and through his shoulders. This wasn't a switch he could just could turn off. It was in his nature to be concerned about Bones and Jojo.
"Do you know what it's like to have people hurting and the answers to stopping that right in front of you, but because you're limited, because you're stuck, you can't do a damn thing about it?" he asked, his voice raspier than ever.
"This isn't your fault, Jim," Bones said quietly.
"Isn't it?" he asked, drawing a sharp breath that was like a knife rising in his chest to his heart, causing liquid to pool in his eyes. Or was it the thought that he'd horrifically failed his best friend that brought the tears?
"No, it isn't. Their actions are their actions, Jim. Not yours. I want my daughter, Jim. But I could never forgive myself if you got hurt again when you're still so ill," he whispered fiercely, his eyes brimming with more emotion, more grief, worry, and urgency than Jim had ever seen from him before. Bones cared for him that much. "Not if you get hurt while you're recuperating, putting your life on the line—and I'm the cause for it. I can't even begin to explain what that would do to me. It would...it..." Bones faltered, not bothering to wipe away the tears caught in the creases of his crow's feet. "Please, Jim."
It was then that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his hands were tied.
He had to give it over completely to Spock. Everything.
"Alright," Jim relented softly. "Alright, Bones. I'll stay out of it. You have my word."
"Okay," Bones nodded.
Words could not convey the answer he wanted to give in return. So he slid closer in their shared silence, resting his head against Bones's shoulder as the rain slowed to a fine mist that sprayed on their faces.
Bones gathered the blanket and spread it over them both, then wrapped his arm securely around Jim. They found contentment with each other like they had so many other times before.
He wasn't sure, he was too tired to think straight now, but he didn't think he'd felt this safe—or loved by another human being—in a long time.
If ever.
oOo
They didn't stay on the porch much longer after that. Jim had nodded off much like Joanna had earlier, right against his shoulder. "Time to go inside, Jim," McCoy murmured.
"Not yet," Jim mumbled.
"You're worse than Jojo," McCoy complained, smiling on the inside.
He nudged him awake with his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, keeping his arms around him in order to haul him into the house.
"May I be of assistance?" Spock asked, once they'd crossed through the doorway to the kitchen.
"Get the door," McCoy said gruffly.
Only his mother would keep an antique door going out to her porch. Some days, he couldn't believe his mother had allowed any of the improvements they'd made to the old place.
Spock closed the door behind him, Jim lifting his head briefly to mumble a slurred, "'Night, Spock."
"Good night, Jim," Spock said. A polite reply for Jim's sake, for he followed them straight down the hallway.
"Lights twenty percent," McCoy ordered the computer once they'd reached the bedroom. He was grateful for the extra help to get Jim on the bed, the younger man a dead weight, asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.
Spock stood apart, a distressed look on his face if McCoy ever saw one on a Vulcan. "Is he this unwell?" he asked, so softly, as if to himself. McCoy had barely heard him.
"Today was better than yesterday," he said quietly, taking Jim's shoes off. "Which was better than even two weeks ago."
They were making progress, but to anyone else it must seem like Jim was still the same. But progress was progress. And he wouldn't discount any of it.
He was almost taken aback when Spock covered Jim with the quilt, but thanked him quietly for doing so. He'd check the catheter later, but first—he had to have a little chat with Spock. "Let's talk outside."
"A logical request," Spock replied, following him once again.
Once the door was closed, McCoy didn't mince words. "He's not leaving and he promised me he wouldn't get involved. That means you have to do everything you can to keep him out of this so we don't undo every damn thing we've worked so hard for," he finished, pointing a finger at Spock in the heat of the moment. "His health can't take it."
"Then we are in agreement, Doctor."
"Good." McCoy's shoulders folded forward. "I have to confess, I have to call it a night, too. I'll stay down here for awhile, make sure Jim actually sleeps."
"Very well," Spock said, turning on his heel.
McCoy caught him by the fabric of his sleeve, stopping him. "Help yourself to anything, Spock. If we're not up in the morning, just make yourself at home. On days like this, my Mama and Jojo have a habit of sleeping in. And Jim...I'm not going to push him out of bed."
"Understood. Thank you, Doctor."
"And Spock…" McCoy hesitated. "Thank you. For everything."
The Vulcan gave him the barebones of a smile before he left. "You are welcome."
oOo
McCoy tucked Jojo in, though his daughter was fast asleep already, and headed downstairs as soon as possible. He used the cot in Jim's room, knowing he wouldn't sleep. He was always a light sleeper when it came to the younger man. Tonight, it was a good thing. An hour after his own eyes had closed he was awakened by a cry. He sat up and turned to his friend on the bed. Jim had broken out in a sweat, his shirt and part of the sheet soaked. Chest heaving, his eyes were wide as he stared up at the ceiling. But there was no recognition in his eyes. Only pure panic. Jim's arms flailed, smacking McCoy in the face, his comm simultaneously alerting him of a new message.
Dammit. Face stinging, he grimaced, holding the younger man's arms down.
"No," Jim cried out.
"Hey, Jimbo, it's me. Bones. You're okay," he soothed, staring straight into Jim's eyes as he struggled. "We are all okay."
Jim's baby blues looked past him. He cried out again, lifting his shoulders off the bed with surprising strength.
McCoy tightened his hold. "Jim, you're right here. With me. In Georgia. You remember that garden, don't ya? That my mother still grows, just for you?"
The words seemed to catch Jim's attention. He sucked in a series of hasty breaths, blinking several times, gaze finally focusing on McCoy.
"It was just a nightmare, Jim," he said softly.
Jim abruptly sank back onto the bed, chest still heaving, face twisted in confusion.
"You're okay, Jimbo," McCoy murmured. "Lights, twenty percent."
"B-Bones?" Jim whispered. He closed his eyes, licking his lips. "Wh-where…?"
"You had a nightmare, Jim. You're at my Mama's house," he answered, stroking his forehead. "Wrapping her around your finger. Spock, too. I don't think I've ever seen you work your magic as well as you have today."
"Oh," Jim glanced up at him and winced. "R-right. G-garden. I kn-knew that. I just...I was…I..."
"I know," he murmured. "I know where you were."
"I'm f-fine now," Jim said hurriedly, still stammering. His cheeks flushed more, as if from embarrassment. "S-Sorry to wake you."
"I was born to do this, don't you know?" he said lightly.
Jim gave a short, self-decrepitating laugh. "Not sleeping?"
McCoy's hand stilled on his forehead. "Watching over you."
"I don't...I don't know if I can go back to sleep," Jim whispered. "If I want to."
McCoy gave him a small smile. "I have just the thing. Hold on."
He let go and went to the dresser where his bag was, immediately pulling out his supply of sedatives. He chose the lowest dosage that still usually worked for Jim, only half-hearing the second chime sounding from his comm.
"You have to sleep, Jim," he said, eyeing him carefully once he returned to the bed. "And I should've given you this earlier."
"It's like you said. Not your fault," Jim whispered, staring up at him with an expression full of trust.
"Throwing my words back at me?" he groused. "Figures, smart ass."
Jim smiled weakly as he administered the hypo. He was out like a light in five seconds. After switching out the sheet, McCoy tucked the quilt back around the sleeping man the way he preferred. All was dark and quiet, Jim no longer restless, but he still didn't allow himself to fall asleep.
He grabbed the comm and and sat on his cot. He frowned down at the screen. Not one but two messages had come through.
The first was from Jocelyn, as he'd expected. He didn't want to read it tonight, but his curiosity got the best of him. He had to read it, lest it was an emergency.
Dread curdled in his stomach as soon as he read the first line.
Sorry you had to find out about Clay this way, Len. We're getting married.
He shouldn't have been surprised. But he was. He forced himself to continue.
Next month. About Joanna. Don't fight us. You know you'll only make it harder for her.
Heart racing, he then read the very last communication. The one he must have received while he'd been distracted, preparing a sedative for Jim.
The same dread he'd felt earlier—that he'd stuffed down for Jim's sake, for Jojo's sake, for Spock's, for his Mother—now returned ten-fold. Stealing away his happiness and any hope he might have had left.
Because it was not from Jocelyn. It was identifiable only by his initials, CT. Treadway.
The numbers on his screen were like another sentence, handed to him by another judge.
1448.
The numbers squeezed the breath out of him as he relived the past months and weeks. To stave off more emotional pain, he dropped the comm on the floor in resignation and climbed onto the bed beside Jim.
It was all he could do not to lash out in hopelessness. Instead, he stayed as still as possible beside the sleeping man. The warm body. His living, breathing best friend.
And because of Treadway. And Jocelyn. Because he'd broken his medical oath by saving Jim, Jim would very likely be the only thing he'd be able to salvage out of his life.
His emotions too much, he turned on his side and wrapped his arm around Jim. He buried his face into the crook of Jim's neck, a muted sob caught in his throat. He squeezed the tears back, stifled the cry of protest and loss as if his life depended on it. He couldn't lose it now. He had to be strong for Jim.
Treadway. He knew. How did he know? What did he know?
Fourteen forty-eight hours.
It was a time one might find in Jim's medical records. Written in his patient's records, by his own hand. He would never forget it. Other than a select few, no one was supposed to know its significance
Eyes wet, he curled his hands into Jim, wanting to make sure he still lived and breathed. This man he loved like a brother...would do anything for and did. The man who'd been worth every bit of it.
This was a threat from Treadway. He couldn't let it slide. He'd have to speak with Jocelyn first thing in the morning. If they knew anything, anything at all, even coming close to knowing he'd broken law after law after law after…
He swallowed with effort, his shallow, labored breath hot on Jim's neck. He'd do what he had to do. He'd first acknowledge that their suspicions were correct. He was hiding something.
Then, he'd do the only thing he had left to do. He'd let his daughter go in order to save both her and Jim.
Such irony. His life was full of it. Beginning with his father. Continuing its merry way with Jim.
Fourteen forty-eight hours.
No one knew that time better than he did. It was a specific time. Terrifying. Exact.
Something he'd never, ever forget.
1448.
The moment Jim's dead, frozen heart began to beat for the very first time.
AN: Thanks so much for reading. Sorry about the cliffie! :D I will have the next chapter up soon, most likely by the weekend. It is finished, only needs another look through.
I absolutely love hearing from you. If you drop a note, know that I will read it eagerly and every word is appreciated. They are inspiring to me. If I haven't replied to your last reviews, please know that a reply is coming soon. To the guest reviewers, since I can't thank you personally, here is your official "thank you!"
Another side note: the 'forgetfulness' Jim and Bones have about Spock will be fully explained in the future (don't be too worried about that, but there is something else going on there that has yet to be revealed...a good reason behind it...)
For those curious about Call of the Void, I am just waiting for my muse to return so I can continue that as well. It's still on my mind and I did start another chapter, but it's slow going. Hopefully, the muse will return quickly. I will probably be posting another story, too. This new fic is almost completed and it's an AU, MUCH different than my usual offerings as you will find out if you check it out once it's posted.
Until next time. ;)