Author's Note: More notes at the bottom. I hope you enjoy the read. :)
oOo
And If I Stand Next To You
Chapter 10
(you're a hard man to withstand, southern man)
oOo
Jim's legs pumped beneath him in proper running form as he made his way around the newly renovated track at the Academy.
Being here brought back good memories of when his body had been even stronger than it was now. He'd missed the freedom. He'd missed the wind in his hair, the feeling that he was in control of his life. Now that he was done with the injections, he wasn't so dependent on others—on doctors, nurses, therapists, even Spock. He could finally take a few steps on his own without Bones breathing down his neck.
It was just like old times. Running a full mile had never felt so good. Running two miles had never been better.
He ran another quarter mile, his body beginning to crave more distance and speed in response to the memories of racing here in the past. He felt strong enough to pick up the pace, but he couldn't help but slow down after he rounded the south end of the track. A dark-haired man stretched by the track. His hair stuck out in tufts as if he'd just rolled out of bed, the scruff on his face indicating he'd had no time to shave. Which might be true, given this particular doctor had been burning the candle at both ends lately.
Jim grinned to himself. Just when he'd thought his jaunt around the track couldn't get any better, Bones had decided to run, too.
"It's about time you showed up," Jim called out as he approached Bones.
His voice attracted the attention of three students near Bones, who glanced at them in interest. Thanks to Archer, Spock, and Bones, Jim had managed to avoid a great deal of public scrutiny since his 'resurrection.' That would be changing as he made more appearances like this, his face recognizable to everyone frequenting this track, other areas on campus and HQ that he would continue to visit in the months to come as he picked up his responsibilities again. Unlike two months ago, Jim was now ready to face it.
"Some of us have work to do, you know," Bones muttered, barely looking up. "We don't all wake up with time on our hands."
Jim soon passed him and turned to jog backwards.
"That's not my fault," he quipped. "My doctor won't let me do anything."
Bones straightened, his eyes quickly passing over him. "Speaking of that. Don't overdo today, Jim."
"I've never felt better," he said honestly.
A doubtful look crossed Bones's face.
"Really," Jim assured him.
"Better stop after another lap or two," Bones advised, bending over to continue stretching.
"Only if you can catch me," Jim said playfully. He pivoted on his heel, darting off.
Jim expected him to catch up fairly quickly, but the doctor didn't. He didn't catch up to him at all. Though confused as to why Bones was taking so long, he didn't turn his head back to see where he was. He waited until he turned the corner again before trying to spot Bones among the dozen or so runners on the track.
His gaze darted between athletes younger than him, in better shape, too. He couldn't find Bones on the track and glanced over to where he'd been stretching. He thought he saw him in his blue t-shirt and gray shorts, that messy hair of his, but he second-guessed himself.
A woman stood beside Bones, holding his hand.
Jim stumbled.
Bones had a girlfriend?
"Hey, man, watch out," a younger man exclaimed near him, stopping his own run to catch him by the arm. His eyes widened in recognition. "Sorry, sir. Captain. I didn't know it was you. Are you all right? You look a little pale."
Jim wavered on his feet before finding his balance.
"I-I'm fine," he said, offering him a strained smile. "Thank you for stopping me from falling flat on my face."
He tried to laugh, but his humor fell short.
The man looked at him warily. "Captain, if you don't mind me saying so, sir, maybe you shouldn't be running."
Jim's eyes flitted from the man to Bones then back to the man, who was chewing on his lip, waiting for him to speak up.
"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Just a little tired. I'll stop soon."
"If you're certain, Captain," the man said reluctantly.
He released Jim's arm and jogged away, leaving Jim to stare back in confusion at Bones and the woman, who were now brushing shoulders. The couple took a seat on a bench by the track, heads together as if they were in a deep conversation. Their fingers threaded together in an intimate way, indicating that their relationship was serious.
Bones had never told him he was dating. Not that it mattered to him, except one would think his best friend would've mentioned it. He tried to maintain his previous stride, but his legs were like bricks, almost impossible to move. There was no mistaking Bones's profile, the stubborn lock of hair falling forward, the lopsided smile. There was no mistaking the well-dressed, poised woman, either.
Bones—and Jocelyn? After all of the pain Bones had gone through? It didn't make sense.
He slowed to a jog. When Bones leaned over to kiss her, Jocelyn responding passionately, he completely stopped.
That was a lovers' kiss if he ever saw one.
He heard shouts around him to get away, but he couldn't move.
Bones? With Jocelyn?
Had Bones been lying to him this entire time? Had he and Jocelyn ever been at odds?
His heart skipped a beat when Bones kissed her fully on the lips a second time. Jocelyn's expression was peaceful. She looked content, basking in his attention.
And Bones looked the same.
Jim's dream of heading for the black with Bones splintered like a ship being attacked at warp speed.
If they were together...did that mean he would have go on the mission alone? Without Bones?
Nausea swelled and, without warning, he threw up a little in his mouth.
Five years, without his best friend?
Dazed, he put a fist to his mouth, forgetting that he was standing in the midst of runners. Coming to himself, he walked unsteadily to the side of the track and spit into the grass, stealing another glance at the couple who, by all appearances, looked like they were happy together.
Movement behind them caught his eye. He straightened as a child came bounding out of nowhere. He immediately recognized her to be Joanna. She ran up to her mother and father, looking up at Bones with adoration and beaming with delight, like she did when they were at Eleanora's.
Bones smiled back and lifted her into his arms. Joanna slipped her arms around his neck, squeezing it in her excitement. He spoke in her ear, but Jim was too far away to know what he said. Joanna seemed to understand, though, and nodded. Bones glanced over at Jocelyn. He didn't smile, but Jim recognized the emotion in his eyes.
Love.
He couldn't breathe. What was happening? Bones didn't love Jocelyn. Did he? There'd be absolutely no chance of Bones heading for the black if he did.
Jocelyn leaned her head on Bones's shoulders, something Jim had never pictured the woman ever doing. She never displayed affection in public. But here she was, running her hand along Bones's arm.
The three looked like a family once again. Content, whole—and utterly perfect.
Too perfect.
Jim squared his shoulders. He would never get in the way, or deny Bones happiness. But the shock had hollowed out his heart in seconds, Bones wrenched from its center without warning when he'd kissed Jocelyn.
Could he be wrong? Maybe this was just an illusion. His drug therapy had ended only two months ago. He could still be seeing things, couldn't he? His PTSD occasionally came out of nowhere. He wasn't altogether over it. He could be having another hallucination. If he'd listened to Bones, this wouldn't have happened. He should have taken things a little easier today, just like the doctor had suggested.
Convincing himself this was the case, he walked towards them, determined. He was a captain, wasn't he? And, at the very least, Bones's friend. He stopped just several feet away from them and took a deep breath.
"Bones?" he asked, making his presence known. "Thought you were going to join me for a run."
Bones scowled. "Kid, not today. I'm busy."
Jim's heart pounded in his chest. Bones would never say that to him. He'd never just brush him off. Even if he was in love with Jocelyn, or anyone. What was going on?
"Kid, huh? Well, okay," he said, swallowing nervously, trying to give him the benefit of a doubt. "Another day, then."
"No," Bones said, standing up with Joanna in his arms. "Won't be another day, either."
"I…" Jim's stomach rolled. He hated that he even had to ask Bones what was going on, but he had to know. "Why...why not?"
Bones's eyes flashed with irritation. "It's not that hard to figure out, Jim."
He wrapped his free hand around Jocelyn's waist, pulling her close. Kissing her again in front of everyone at the track.
The world around Jim tipped on its side, as if he were on a boat, sailing across a stormy, ruffled sea. He wanted to dive overboard and find land. Walk on solid ground. Wake up from this nightmare.
This couldn't be happening. Bones really was staying?
"I...see," he said, breathless. "You should've told me Bones...this morning.…"
Bones's eyes narrowed suspiciously on him. "This morning? I was with them, Jim. Maybe you should contact Doctor Boyce."
"Boyce?" Jim asked, knots growing in his stomach that Bones had even suggested he see another doctor. "Why?"
"He's your doctor now, Jim," Bones said, looking even more irritated. "We've gone over this before. You're not supposed to follow me."
They'd never gone over that at all. And he wasn't following Bones. He'd arrived first.
He scratched his head. "Boyce can't be my doctor. You're my doctor," he argued, hoping his gut feeling was wrong. "You're my CMO."
"No, I'm not, not anymore," Bones said, shaking his head. "Jim, you better see him. You're clearly having trouble, again. You can't be bothering me now, remember?"
Jim blinked at him, unable to think of a proper reply. Bones didn't make sense. Since when did he ask Jim to stop bothering him? What did he mean by having trouble again?
"You were in the psych ward, Jim," Bones said deliberately, as if he were talking to a child. "After Khan. For months. Eight, to be exact."
Jim turned his head, looking at him suspiciously. He could've been in the psych ward. He recalled being in the hospital a lot. Weeks, at the very least. He also knew he'd had those hallucinations.
He swallowed thickly, drawing a blank about other details. Why couldn't he remember anything else about his time recuperating? Was Bones right?
Had Bones—their friendship—been a figment of his imagination this entire time?
His heart pounded in his ears like a steady drum, blocking the sound of runners around them. Maybe he was unstable. It would explain a lot. All the difficulty he'd had. The inability to move forward. Was he...stuck?
Jim gulped.
As in...stuck in his own world?
"Honey, let's go," Jocelyn urged Bones, glancing furtively at Jim. "Your mother wanted us home for dinner. He's no longer your concern. It's not good for you to have contact with him."
"You're right," Bones said quietly. "Let's go."
He turned around and walked away without another word to Jim, his arms tucked firmly around his daughter and ex-wife.
Jim almost couldn't watch, heartache building up in his chest. Bones was just leaving? Without an explanation? Accusing him of being a psych patient who stalked him?
"Bones!" he pleaded, using every ounce of strength he had to stop him. He needed to know the truth. The facts. "Please. I don't...don't understand. What's going on? Please don't leave me, Bones."
Bones looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. "Jim, leave me alone. I have my family now, and you just have to begin accepting that."
"But, you can't do this. I need you, Bones."
Bones pulled himself up to his full height. "You need me?"
Jim felt faint. Didn't Bones know that already? They were best friends.
"That's too bad," Bones said flippantly. "Because I don't need you, Jim."
Stunned, he took a step back. "You don't mean that," he said shakily.
"I do mean it," Bones said coldly. "Leave, Jim. Leave me alone."
Knees shaking, he couldn't find his footing. He sank to the ground and hunched over in his grief, bracing himself with his arms.
"Bones…" he said brokenly, shaking his head in confusion. "Bones…no….please."
"Haven't I made it clear enough?" Bones barked. "Dammit, Jim! I don't need you!"
The hurtful words ripped his heart out. His throat grew thick, nearly closing.
It was like a light had been snuffed from his life.
A moan rose from his chest. "No," he breathed, clasping his arms around his middle.
Bones turned away with a disgusted look on his face.
"Please, Bones," he begged hoarsely, finding his voice as if his life depended upon it.
And it did. How could he go on without Bones? He'd be aimless without him. Dead before his prime.
"Don't leave me behind," he whispered. "Don't, please, Bones. Please."
The begging sounded pitiful in his own ears, but he couldn't stop.
Bones stopped in his tracks and spun around, his family—Joanna and Jocelyn—suddenly far in the distance, along the horizon. "It's what you wanted, Jim. Remember? Me, Jocelyn, Joanna. For us to be a family. For me to have Joanna back."
"I…" Jim blinked. That was all true, at least about Joanna. "I know I w-wanted you to have Joanna back, but th-this wasn't what I meant to happen."
"Wasn't it?" Bones asked indifferently.
"No!" he blurted. "I need you, Bones."
Bones frowned. "Joanna needs me, too. And Jocelyn. They need me more."
"And me?" he whispered fearfully.
Bones grew quiet.
"What about...the mission?" he asked again.
"There is no 'mission,'" Bones said. "At least not for me. You got your wish, Captain. I have Joanna and that's the end of it," he added, jaw set. "Leave me alone, Jim. You have to continue on with your life. Alone."
With that, Bones and his family disappeared into thin air.
He stared at the empty spot in front of him, willing Bones to come back.
"No," he said, gasping. "No. This...this can't happen. Bones, come...come back…come...back."
He scrambled to his feet, spinning around on his heel, scanning all around to find them. But it was as if they'd truly vanished.
"Bones?"
His hands tore through his hair, digging his fingers in his scalp in his confusion. The track was gone. The people. The Academy. Everything.
Everyone.
"No, no...this can't be happening," he said, panic-filled words tumbling out of his mouth. "No no no. Where is he? Where is he, dammit!"
He stumbled across the grass, dumbfounded that he was all alone. Soon he succumbed to the heartache, to the cry swelling in his chest, and sank back to his knees in the grass. It was freshly cut, reminding him of new beginnings, which reminded him of Bones. Of Spock. His family. The Enterprise and their new mission. He breathed in the scent, heart void of the one person who had made a lasting difference in his life.
Who would fix him? Who would be at his side on the bridge? Who would let him barge into their quarters, unannounced? Who would let him get drunk and pass out on their couch? Who would be his grumpy best friend? Who could he share shore leave with? Who would replace the face that he looked for on the ship? Who would be the person who set him straight when he fucked up?
Who would replace Bones?
No one.
"Bones, please," he pleaded brokenly. "Don't leave! Bones! Bo—"
He cut off as someone shook him, their hands on his shoulders, on his face, yelling in his ear. "Jim, I'm right here. It's Bones. I promise."
"Come back, Bones. Please!" he begged, ignoring them. Nothing mattered but getting Bones back. "Don't leave me...don't..."
"Jim, listen to me," the voice urged. "I'm here. Right here."
Someone gripped his shoulders, trapping him in a vise.
He wheezed, struggling against the powerful hold.
"Jim! Listen to me! Dammit! You're having a nightmare again. You need to wake up!" a worried voice cried in his ears. "Your body can't handle more stress like this. Please, Jim."
Someone slapped his face. Face stinging, Jim didn't think. He opened his eyes and shot up out of bed and hit the floor, dragging his body across it and back against the wall.
Breath escaping in stuttered, forceful gasps, he gaped at the disheveled, frightened man kneeling on the bed. Bones stared back at him with wide, anxious eyes, his chest rapidly rising and falling as if he'd been at the track, running.
Neither spoke for a moment.
With a fist at his mouth, Bones stared at Jim like he was going to disappear, too.
Jim finally sucked in a much needed, larger breath, the wall at his back grounding him. He welcomed the new pain he felt in his groin. It meant he was back in this world, not the crazy one he'd just imagined.
"Dammit, Jim," Bones said, voice quaking. "That was the worst nightmare you've had yet. I'm sorry about...about slapping you...but it went on for some time and your vitals were dangerously off."
Another nightmare? That meant he'd had two in one night.
He made a small noise at the back of his throat, wrapping his shaking hands around his knees the best he could as he sat, his back against the wall. It was a futile effort. He couldn't clasp them together and and dropped them to the floor, instead.
With a heavy sigh, Bones hung his head. "Jim, what had you yelling so much?"
Jim almost didn't tell him. It sounded pitiful, even to him.
"Jim?" Bones prompted quietly.
"You l-left m-me alone, f-for good," he whispered before his courage faded just like Bones had.
Bones's head snapped up. "That will never happen."
Another pathetic noise slipped from Jim's throat. He'd never seen anything so clearly in his entire life. Bones had told him to take a hike. A permanent one.
Bones's eyes softened. "Not even in a damn nightmare."
Jim wanted Bones to do more than placate him and send him a warm look. He wanted to be held and comforted like a child.
But he wouldn't ask for that.
He wouldn't beg. He wouldn't grovel like he had in his nightmare.
"But it d-did happen," he said, choking through a sob. He brought his hand up to wipe his eyes. "It was r-real, Bones. You got Jojo back, Joce, too. You were together again. The perfect family. You left…m-" He gulped back the word 'me.' "...the...the Enterprise...for them. Like it should be."
Bones stared at him quietly for a moment, the words echoing hauntingly in the room.
Jim rubbed his eyes again, wondering why he'd even added the sentence at the end. He wished he could take it back. As Bones continued to watch him, his expression growing more thoughtful with each passing second, he wished he could take it all back.
Finally, Bones sighed and made his way off the bed. Jim watched him with apprehension, unsure how he was going to handle his bad reaction, which had placed him in a vulnerable position on the floor and against the wall. Would he make him talk to the therapist again today? Would this be enough for Bones to admit him into the hospital again? Did it prove that he was completely mentally incompetent? That even the simplest stressors sent him out of control? That he could crash if he didn't have additional, professional help?
"Not going to happen," Bones muttered. He grabbed his tricorder on the nightstand by the bed. "The bit about Joce? I burned that bridge long before you and the the Enterprise came along. I'm here with you, Jim, and Spock. Not her. I can hardly stand being in the same room with her. Besides, she's getting married."
"What?" Jim asked, bewildered. "Married?"
Treadway? Jojo's new stepfather?
"Sent me a text about it late last night," Bones explained.
The discomfort swelled in his groin, becoming a stronger pinch than he'd ever felt there before. "She-she did? What else did she say?"
He shifted his body, trying to find a position that didn't hurt, wincing when moving only aggravated the feeling.
Bones's face flooded with concern. "Jim, what's wrong?" he asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he rushed over and knelt on the floor beside him.
"Ahh," he hissed. "Nothing.
Bones inspected him up and down with the tricorder. Soon, his expression turned grim.
"It's not 'nothing.' This little event pulled on the catheter," he muttered. "You're lucky it wasn't ripped out all the way out as you scooted yourself around on the floor."
Jim leaned his head back on the wall, pushing up with his back muscles, attempting to lessen the pressure, the burning sensation creeping into his groin.
Bones grasped his arm. "We need to get you on the bed so I can remove it," he said, eyes soft. "On the count of three, okay?"
Jim nodded.
"One, two...three."
Bones heaved him to his feet. He couldn't help but groan as he was guided to the bed. All he could think about was the irony of the situation. It felt like he was being led to his death. To be sacrificed, starting with his manhood. It didn't work right, anyway, and at the moment, felt like it never would. In fact, it was useless. Maybe for good.
He snorted. It figured that dying-then-living would stop him from being able to even control his own bladder. Stop him from functioning like the man he thought he was. But it wasn't like he had dates lined up.
And as much as Bones had teased him about Dr. Marcus, they never crossed paths, anyway. She was recuperating, too. According to Uhura, she was visiting Christine Chapel, wherever she was. Jim hadn't asked.
He'd been tempted to, but Uhura would never let him live it down.
Bones grunted. "What's so damn funny? Can't be this."
"I can't look...at myself," Jim stopped to hiss, his vision whitening from the pain. "Ungh…"
"You don't need to talk," Bones soothed, stopping them for a moment. "Take a breath, Jim."
"No, I...Ungh," he moaned. Bones looked doubtfully at him. "I do. I can't even look at myself the same way," he finished with a dry laugh. "It's...it's not.…"
"Not...what?"
"Not me." He grimaced. "It's weird and...more weird."
"Drama queen," Bones said, arching a brow. He began moving them again. "It won't be this terrible forever, Jim, even though it feels like it. You will function like before."
He doubted it.
Bones sombered. "I know this is difficult, and I'm sorry," he said, helping him to sit on the edge of his bed. "But we'll take the catheter out, see how you do without it."
He stretched out uncomfortably on the bed, allowing Bones to manipulate his body to where he wanted it to be. He bunched the quilt beneath him in his hands to keep himself from pushing the doctor away, stopping the process.
Bones put on gloves then tugged on the waist of Jim's pajama pants. "Breathe, Jim," he cautioned, watching him carefully. "I won't continue unless you do."
"Justtellmewhenhe'llworkagain," he garbled.
Bones snorted, deftly pulling down Jim's pants. "Unless we can cluster these injections closer together, not until they're finished. Six weeks, at the least." He paused and threw him a look. "So no conquests for at least twelve."
"Weeks?" He frowned.
"No, years," the doctor guffawed, rolling his eyes. "Yes, weeks, ya moron."
Jim huffed. "Just great," he muttered. His head lolled to the side, watching Bones. "You're pretty efficient at that, taking my pants off," he joked, taking his mind off the longevity of his condition.
In other words, deflecting.
Bones rolled his eyes and guided Jim's legs into a butterfly position. "Relax," he stressed, placing his hand on the inside of his knee. He paused, catching his eye. "Breathe."
Jim stared at him, holding eye contact as he expelled a long breath. Breathing didn't help much, in his opinion. It just made everything worse. He was a tactile person and the nightmare had heightened his awareness of his body. He felt the pressure and warmth of Bones's fingers on the sensitive areas of his leg, the ridges of the handmade quilt against his back, the painful tug of the catheter.
It was his own damn fault that this hurt like a bitch again. But he never woke up from nightmares gracefully, either.
"You'll feel some discomfort, but it won't last," Bones warned. "I'm going to deflate the—"
A knock sounded at his door. Bones paused and looked at him.
"Expecting a visitor this early in the morning?" he asked, arching a brow.
Jim shook his head.
Bones looked doubtfully at him. "You need to talk about it?"
Did Bones always have to be so perceptive?
"No."
Of course he didn't want to talk about the fact he'd been in the loony bin for eight months in his nightmare without Bones.
"Okay," Bones began. "I'm willing to li—"
There was another rap at the door.
Bones strangled out a frustrated sigh. "Hold on. I'll make this quick."
He lifted the corner of a sheet and spread it over Jim's legs and waist to cover him before walking to the door. Body tense, Jim locked his arms tightly behind his head as he waited.
Bones barely cracked open the door. "Spock," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "What can I do for you?"
"Is the Captain well?" Spock asked, coughing once.
Jim's brows knit together. Spock actually sounded unsure of himself. Even...worried.
"I should be asking you that question, Spock," Bones said in his "doctor" voice. "You look...and sound...tired."
"I am adequate, merely concerned that the Captain is…" Spock's voice faded. "Are you well, Doctor McCoy?"
Bones hesitated. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you."
There was a pause.
Jim would give anything to see the odd, measuring looks that were no doubt passing between them.
Bones scratched his head. "Spock, really. I'm fine."
Though it jarred his groin, Jim lifted himself up on his elbows. He tried to peer past Bones's shoulders to get a glimpse of Spock's face, wondering if he looked as worried as he sounded.
"You are concerned about Jim," Spock said.
"That's the pot callin' the kettle black," Bones muttered.
"Indeed, I am...relieved we are in agreement, Doctor."
Bones sighed. "What's this about, Spock? I have Jim in a vulnerable position—"
He did? Jim smirked to himself. When Bones groaned, he imagined that Spock's brows had reached for the sky.
"That's not what I...agh, forget you heard that," Bones muttered, flustered. "He's just...just tell me what this is about."
"The Captain cannot stop thinking about your case against him—"
"—case against him?" Bones asked in disbelief.
"Case of...insanity…" As he finished, Spock's voice dwindled to nothing.
Confused, Jim sank back into the mattress. How the hell did he know about the nightmare? Or was he talking about something else? Before they came to Georgia, Jim had discussed his PTSD with Bones and Spock, the specific symptoms that would prevent him from retaining his ship. Including mental instability.
Bones opened the door and slipped outside of Jim's room, leaving the door slightly cracked behind him. "Spock," Jim heard him say in a low voice. "I have no case against Jim, especially one of insanity. You're the one talking nonsense. And it better stop as soon as Jim steps out of this room. He had a nightmare, a bad one, two actually, and I can tell he's still upset about it."
"A nightmare," Spock repeated. "Of course," he breathed. "A nightmare."
There was a pause. "Spock, have you meditated lately?" Bones asked.
"Indeed, I have, and it is not necessary for me to continue." Spock said stiffly. "If you will excuse me, I will no longer monopolize your time but return to the kitchen."
"You're not a bother, Spock," Bones said. He paused. "While you're here, you should know I have something to talk to you about. To both of you. Will you wait until we're finished? It won't take too long. Thirty minutes, tops, and then we can have breakfast."
"Very well, Doctor," Spock replied. "While I wait, I will meditate."
Jim snorted.
Bones expelled a long breath. Jim could just see him biting back a smart remark.
"Yes, Spock. Meditate," Bones emphasized. "Like I said before, I'd recommend it."
He came back into the room after Spock left, closing the door with a strange look on his face. "Did you hear any of that?"
Jim nodded.
"Jimbo, I'm a little worried," Bones put a hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair, half turning back towards the door. "About Spock...and you."
Jim shrugged. "He has a lot on his mind, especially now."
Bones shook his head. "That's not it. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something…"
"What?"
Bones walked up to the bed. "Never mind. Maybe I was just imagining things."
Jim didn't have to look too hard to see the fresh strain on his face. "The text from Jocelyn?"
"Um-hmm," Bones hummed, putting on new gloves.
"Was it that bad?" Jim mused softly as Bones began the process of removing his catheter again.
Bones stilled, warning him with a look. "Jim, stop fishing."
"Who? Me?" he denied.
The fiery sensation in his groin suddenly took his breath away and he twitched involuntarily. Bones placed a hand on Jim's inner thigh, causing him to startle. Their eyes caught.
The doctor seemed to see straight through him. "You okay for me to continue?"
"Just get it done," he said hoarsely.
"I'll apply cream when we're finished," Bones said apologetically. "I'm sorry the line got pulled, Jim. You are red...and irritated."
He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, nothing else. Not even Bones. He just wanted this done, already.
"Okay, I'm going to start again, Jim," Bones drawled. "It'll be over soon, I promise. And then you'll get to have your freedom."
He clutched the quilt beneath him for the next full minute.
"There," Bones said softly when he was finished, pulling away after he covered him with a sheet. "Now you can relax."
Jim slowly let go of the quilt and sank into his pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, his limbs like liquid now that the annoying contraption was gone.
"It will be normal for you to have trouble urinating the first time," Bones explained as he cleaned up. "But, the good news is that I don't see any blood."
"We're going to have to go...through all of this again...next week?"
"I know it's not ideal, but in five days, yes."
"Five days?"
"That'll be a week since the last injections, Jim. So yes, I'll have to reinsert the catheter in five days. Less, if the numbers are good." Bones took off his gloves and threw them in the container in the corner.
"You mean you'd move up the schedule?" Jim shivered. "Don't tease me."
"I'm not," Bones deadpanned. "If these numbers improve more than they already are, I'd have to move the injections up a day or two. Maybe even three."
"But, if I have worse symptoms with each one…." Jim's breathed raggedly. "I don't like the sound of that."
Bones sank to the side of the bed and grasped his hand. "If that happens, I'll admit you. Where I have everything at my fingertips to make you as comfortable as possible."
"You'd stay there with me?" Jim asked humbly. "Or...if you don't, just sedate me for the whole thing?"
"I can't sedate you for the duration, no." Bones hesitated and searched his face. "That last nightmare...I really left you?"
The crushing weight of going on a five-year mission—of life—without his best friend came tumbling back down on him. He'd barely realized he had started crying before Bones gathered him in his arms.
"I didn't let you stay grounded, now did I?" Bones said gruffly as he held him tightly against his chest. "I dragged your sorry ass onto the Enterprise the only way I knew how. I couldn't let them take your body away unless I first tried to bring you back. What you dreamt is a damn lie, Jim. I meant what I said last night on the porch. I can't leave you behind. None of us would. Uhura. Spock...your our family."
Jim fought his tears, but they poured down his cheeks as if he were only a child. "S-s-sorry."
"There's no need to apologize," Bones murmured. "I know you. I know how strong you are. I know that this nightmare affected you more than you're admitting right now. Because it came at a time when things are hard to begin with."
"C-crying," Jim stuttered.
"That's nothing to be ashamed about," Bones said. "What you've been going through...you're holding up better than I ever would."
Jim clutched him as if he'd disappear like the other Bones. The mean, angry, cold Bones. If it seemed like he was holding up better than expected, it was only because of this Bones. The one who truly cared.
"That said," Bones said gently, "I have something to tell you and Spock, but I'll only do so if I know you're going to be able to handle it. And if you remember your promise."
As much as he hated to back down, he had to.
"I remember," he said hoarsely. "No getting involved."
He held back his tears the best he could, slowly gaining control of himself. Dammit, why was he always falling apart when Bones needed him?
"Good." Bones rubbed comforting circles on Jim's back. "Let's shower, get dressed...and meet up with Spock for breakfast. It's early, about five-thirty, but we might as well start the day. If I see any indication that you're not holding up, I'll make you get in your pajamas again and head upstairs to read a book to Jojo."
Jim sniffed. "I'd do that for her, anyway."
"I know. I think you've read aloud every single book she has. At least once." Bones paused, tone thoughtful. "Speaking of which, she mentioned to me last night that she needs new books. I might take her to the bookstore today. If you're feeling up to it, you can come along for the ride."
His near future suddenly looked bright. He pulled away from his grasp. "A field trip?"
Bones stood and rolled his eyes. "You'll have to stay in the craft. But, yes, a field trip, Jim."
"Just as long as Spock remembers to bring his permission slip, too, Dad," he quipped.
Bones launched a pillow at him. He ducked just in time.
oOo
McCoy set the breakfast plates in the kitchen sink, contemplating what exactly he'd tell Jim and Spock. First, however, he'd wash the dishes. Jim had accused him of being old-fashioned last night. He had to admit to himself, as he turned on the water, that this was all the proof he needed. Something about having his hands in the warm water and suds calmed him after working with his hands in a different way all day.
He debated mentioning anything in detail to either Jim or Spock, but decided he'd better come clean about the "1448" message sooner than later. Before he talked to Jocelyn or Treadway. Before Jojo got up for the day. It was going on six-thirty, already. Jim and Spock were his friends, and they wouldn't take no for answer. Letting the issue fester would only create problems, even distance between them. They'd discuss his options—together.
Still, he had his reservations. Jim was having a hard time this morning, though he'd put on his game face. The nightmare had tipped the scales again. He wouldn't receive this news well at all in his current emotional and mental state, no matter how much he'd tried to comfort him.
But Spock might handle it even worse than Jim would.
He knew from experience how Spock handled threats against his friends, against Jim's crew. Although this threat was more of a personal nature, he had a feeling it wouldn't make a difference to Spock one way or another. That Spock seemed tightly wound wouldn't help, either.
He couldn't put a finger on it, but something was obviously bothering him.
Jim came from behind him and slapped his back. "Bonesey!"
He rolled his eyes.
Jim smirked. "I'll dry," he offered.
He smiled to himself. "Jim Kirk, being all domesticated? Helping in the kitchen?"
"Hey, I can cook and clean, you know," Jim said indignantly.
"Ya sure you feel up to it?" he asked without turning around.
He stopped the water and added a small amount of additional dish soap, staring into the sink instead of at Jim. He'd felt the need to give him space ever since they emerged from the bedroom this morning. He'd avoided any talk about Jocelyn's message at breakfast, giving Jim time to talk with Spock about whatever he wanted. Which had been, interestingly enough, the trip to the bookstore. Or, rather, books. Although Jim and Spock were explorers, they both appreciated the rare, tangible things of the past, eschewing technology for a book they could hold in their hands, games such as chess, the list went on.
He appreciated those things at times, too, just wasn't as demonstrative about it as Jim. He'd rather listen as they talked instead of participating in the discussion. He enjoyed the normalcy of the conversation, even the environment, although he knew he shouldn't be ignoring Treadway's message and its implications. The three of them sitting around the small table in the kitchen reminded him of the times they'd spent in Jim's quarters on the Enterprise.
It was a breath of fresh air, considering the past few days.
And he had to reluctantly admit that he was old-fashioned. Or, at least sentimental. He wanted Jim back on the ship doing what he loved most as soon as possible. If Jim was happy, he was, too.
"Yep," Jim said cheerily. "If I can have a piece of that cherry pie your mom made that I saw in the fridge."
"You can have it at lunchtime," he said decidedly. Jim had woken up with an appetite but it was still early in the day and he didn't want him to wind up with a stomachache. "No need to rush things, okay?"
Jim sighed, staring dejectedly at the bowl McCoy had started washing. "But your mom made it. What if Spock eats it all?"
"Spock isn't going to eat my mama's pie," he grumbled.
Jim's gaze fell past his shoulder. "You sure about that?" he asked, smirking.
Brow arching, McCoy turned and looked where Jim was now pointing.
He did a double take. Spock had cut himself a piece of the pie and was in the process of taking his first bite.
"Since when does Spock just...eat pie?" he whispered to Jim. "For breakfast?"
"You know that as soon as he has that first bite," Jim hushed back, "he'll want the rest."
"No, as soon as you have that first bite," he drawled, "you'll want the rest."
They both watched Spock quietly as the tip of the fork disappeared in his mouth, coming out clean seconds later. A euphoric expression crossed his face.
"I'm confused," McCoy said. "Do you see that?"
Jim nodded, scratching his chin. "He certainly took the initiative. Maybe he took your advice too far...and over meditated? Can Vulcans do that?"
He shrugged and turned back to his pile of dishes. "Don't look at me."
"Maybe I should comm Uhura," Jim whispered hastily. "This seems important enough to call her about."
He shook his head. "He's gonna be fine. A little extra sugar doesn't hurt anyone."
Jim looked at him indignantly. "That's not what you tell me."
His mouth twitched at the corners. "Well, you're not just anyone, are you?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "According to you, I'm an idiot."
"Captain Idiot and Starfleet's poster boy," he said, turning his attention back to the dishes. "Like I said," he breathed, with a single, deliberate shake of his head. "Not just anyone."
"Since I'm not just anyone, may I still have that pie?"
He chuckled. "Nice try, but no. You can dry this plate, instead." He handed him a clean dish.
"You know, you forgot one thing," Jim said quietly as he wiped it dry.
"Yeah, what's that?"
"You brought me here, too," Jim murmured, looking out the window above the sink to the garden. "To your mom's."
McCoy's hands stilled in the suds.
"The one place…" Jim hesitated, looking down at the dish in his hands. "That feels like home to me other than the Enterprise."
Concerned there was more on his mind than just feeling at home, McCoy plucked his hands from the water and dried them on the extra towel on the counter.
He looked straight into Jim's eyes and said, "If things don't quite end up like we want them to be, then we'll stay here where it feels like home. You and me, Jim. Indefinitely. My mama already told me the door's open. If you don't go, neither do I."
Jim gave a nervous, breathless laugh.
He reached up and grasped him gently by the shoulders. "I mean that, Jim. And you are going to get back on that ship. But, if something happens—"
"If I really am too fucked up in the head to captain a ship, you mean," Jim interrupted under his breath.
"No, I mean if things don't go as planned, and it's better for your mental health to stay grounded for awhile. But I don't see that happening," he said honestly, dropping his arms. "I just don't want you to worry about something like that since you had that...nightmare."
Jim shivered.
"If you want to talk about—"
"Maybe later," Jim interrupted, giving him small smile.
"Jim," he said in warning.
"After Spock tells us what's eating him," Jim said, frowning as he observed his First Officer. "I promise."
He rubbed his jaw. "So you sense something's off with him, too?"
Jim nodded. "And you."
He eyed him carefully. "You're one to talk."
Jim grew quiet.
"We need to have that chat." McCoy sighed.
"I know," Jim said quietly. "I'm sorry I'm a mess. That I…" He inhaled a shaky breath. "That I've been so much trouble. But today, I actually feel better. Like I could eat a horse. Or a chicken. Or dumplings. Maybe even—"
"You still can't have that pie," he deadpanned.
Jim broke out into a grin. "You can't blame a guy for trying."
"Infant," he muttered.
Jim chuckled, picking up another dish.
They finished their task in comfortable silence. He'd never had a better time washing dishes, and by the look on Jim's face, the normalcy of the task had done him good, too.
As Jim was putting away the last of the cups, McCoy sat down at the kitchen table across from Spock, who'd finished his pie and was reading his PADD.
"What's eating you, Spock?" he asked, crossing his arms.
Spock looked up. "Doctor McCoy, nothing is 'eating me,' as you so eloquently stated."
"No need to be snarky," Jim said, grinning as he joined them. "Maybe he should've asked what you were eating. We saw you with that pie."
Spock's cheeks tinged green. "You inspired me to partake of it, Jim. I recalled your expressed enjoyment in partaking of Mrs. McCoy's desserts 'from scratch,' as you call them, and wished to experience it for myself."
"Really?" Jim's brow rose in surprise.
"Do you not care for Mrs. McCoy's pie?" Spock hedged.
"I'd eat the whole damn thing right now, if I could," Jim said with a sigh. "But someone won't let me."
McCoy huffed. "I'm saving you from a morning spent with a stomachache."
"It's a conspiracy," Jim said with a wave of his hand. "You two just want it for yourselves."
Spock's eyes warmed. "You are feeling well today."
"I think so, better than I have all week, actually," Jim said. He blinked several times, staring down at his hands. "If I don't think about my nightmare."
McCoy exchanged a glance with Spock.
"But that can wait," Jim added swiftly. "We have several things to discuss. First, Spock."
Spock stiffened in his chair.
"See. That, what you just did." Jim leaned forward in his chair, looking earnestly at him. "What's going on with you?"
Spock lifted his chin. "I do not know to what you refer."
"You can't play dumb with me," Jim said, eyes gently probing. "Something is bothering you."
Spock gave the barest of sighs. "I discovered Treadway's true identity."
"True identity?" McCoy repeated.
"What?" Jim asked at the same time. "When?"
"Last night," Spock said. "He is a former boxer, once known as Clayton the Lion."
"Boxer?" McCoy asked incredulously.
"That would explain his fighting stance," Jim mused lightly.
He shot him a stern look. Did he still not realize how close to being a mash of flesh and bone he'd been?
"What?" Jim said indignantly.
"This is not the time to joke. He could've ki—" he paused, tripping over the word before he revealed his worst fear, had Treadway pounded his face in. "Hurt you," he finished lamely.
"But he didn't, and he won't be coming around here because of my two bodyguards," Jim said, pointedly glancing at him, then Spock. "I saw him fight several times," he went on, expression closing as if in deep thought. "How could I have not recognized him?"
"He doesn't look like a boxer now. Or ex-boxer. Not when he's wearing a suit that Jocelyn probably bought him," McCoy grumbled. "Spock, you said you found this out last night? How?"
"I drove through their neighborhood," Spock said vaguely.
His brows rose. "You spied on them?"
Spock inclined his head. "I parked on their street, a short distance from their house, and...listened to their conversation."
Jim's eyes widened as he stared at Spock. "You spied like a spy? Sneaking out and everything after we went to bed, going off in the dark by yourself like a Secret Agent kind of spying? Only you used your super Vulcan hearing? I can't believe you spied on them," Jim repeated in an awed voice. "Wow. I think you're Bones's hero in disguise, actually. Not mine."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "I doubt Spock would appreciate that new job description."
"On the contrary, Doctor McCoy, I am happy to be of service," Spock said.
"That 'service' was dangerous," he countered. "And I'd rather you not do that again. Your safety is at stake- and on my hands."
"I have since discovered he is indebted," Spock said, obviously avoiding his last comment. "I believe that he is using your ex-wife to pay back his debts."
"And create a new name for himself, using Jocelyn's family name to do it," Jim murmured, eyes trained on some unknown spot in front of him. "He won't just stop at threats."
"I concur," Spock said.
Jim set his mouth in a grim line. "He'll do what he says. Do you realize the connections he already has? I know for a fact he used to be a part of an underground boxing ring. He has friends there, hell, even enemies, that would do his dirty work. Even if he is in debt, he just has to snap his fingers. Family will protect family. This has become more dangerous than I thought. Jocelyn told you she's marrying him? Then he'll let nothing get in his way of doing just that."
After Jim finished, McCoy zoned in on one thing. He couldn't allow a man like this to take on a fatherly role with his own daughter, but what else could he do? He was threatening him, using information on Jim's recuperation.
"What if Treadway happened to have a piece of information," he began slowly. "Information on Jim's...recovery?"
Jim glanced sharply at him. "By recovery, do you mean bringing back from the dead?"
"Maybe," he said quietly.
"Did he...threaten you?" Jim asked tightly. When he didn't answer Jim's eyes hardened. "Dammit, Bones what the hell did he do?"
"Sent a message late last night." McCoy tried to smile.
It fell flat, and the weight of the threat finally dropped on his shoulders since he'd awakened. Shoulders curved inward, he clasped his hands on the table in an effort to mask his anxiety.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Jim asked tightly, more to his expression than just a wounded look. "Bones…"
He shook his head. "It's staring me right in the face and I can't bring myself to do a thing. I had it all planned out last night. I'd call Jocelyn, give in, all because of a number," McCoy said, laughing dryly. "Fourteen fucking forty-eight. Do you know what that is?" he asked. Glaring at Jim. Glaring Spock. At both of them, as if they were the ones who'd sent the threat. "Because I do. I won't ever forget," he gritted. "And, now? They know."
Spock's eyes grew cold. "I will not permit them to threaten you—or Jim."
"And how are you going to stop them?" McCoy tossed out angrily. "You get too close, Vulcan or not, you'll either get your lights punched out or be handed a restraining order."
"He cannot hurt me, nor can a thousand of his fists," Spock said quietly. "And I will not allow them to hurt the both of you. We will report his threat to Jim, obtain a restraining order against him after responding to your ex-wife's message."
"You do that and he'll—"
"He will realize that despite his threats, we are not willing to jeopardize our captain's life." Spock interrupted calmly. "Or, Doctor, do you wish to endanger Jim?"
"No, of course not," McCoy gritted. "But Treadway's threats will only get worse."
"Then you will first respond to your ex-wife as if you agree with her. You will inform her that you will not oppose her in the custody arrangement. However, you will ask her to wait before pursuing full custody for one week. You will also explain what transpired between her fiancé and Jim, that you have footage of the event, and cannot risk his life, despite their threats." Spock paused. "After which, we will talk to the appropriate law enforcement officials."
McCoy inhaled sharply.
"B-Bones?"
He blinked several times at Spock, hearing Jim only as if in a tunnel. On one hand, what Spock suggested could result in a greater threat. But, on the other hand, it could possibly work and stop the threats.
"B-Bones," Jim gasped, as if his breath was being squeezed from him. "That was...that was wh-when…"
He finally pulled his gaze from Spock and returned his focus back on Jim, where it should be. Where it should've been. His heart fell as he realized what his thoughtless tirade had caused.
Jim's hands were shaking, his face a deathly sheet of white. His eyes darting back and forth as his breaths came out in short puffs.
Too damn close to a panic attack, if not there, already.
"...my he-heart…"
He reached for both of his hands. "It was, Jim, but we are beyond that, now," he whispered. "Both of us."
He enveloped Jim's clammy hands in his own.
"I'm sorry I upset you," he continued in a gentle voice, not wanting to startle him into a deeper anxiety-filled state. "I shouldn't have said it like that. I should have had more tact. I'm sorry."
"N-not your fault," Jim stammered. "Mine."
He peered into Jim's unfocused eyes. "Not your fault, either. You're suffering from post-traumatic stress. And you're not doing anything wrong," he said, squeezing his hands. "But I need you to calm down so we can continue talking. If you don't, I will take you upstairs to see Jojo, and you will sit this conversation out."
Jim's eyes slightly widened, the only indication that he'd heard him.
"Take a deep breath," he said as soothingly as he could, trying to draw him in and focus on his voice. "Think about that pie you love so much."
The younger man's brow wrinkled.
"Yes, pie. My mama's homemade pie with crust that melts in your mouth," he drawled quietly. "Go ahead, Jim. Close your eyes for me."
Jim blinked, his eyes no longer nervously looking around but fixated on him.
He smiled encouragingly, lowering his voice to a soothing murmur.
"That's right, Jim. Focus on me. Now, close your eyes," he prompted. "Imagine sinking your teeth into the filling, tasting that sugar you love that I hate to let you eat, but let ya eat, anyway. Just close your eyes."
Jim's eyes drifted shut.
"That's it,'" he said softly. "Keep them closed and relax. Imagine that plate of homemade sweetness right in front of you. Now, breathe."
When Jim expelled a long, even breath, McCoy was just wondering how he could slip off to the fridge to get some when he saw Spock quietly leave his chair and walk purposefully in that direction. Soon, Spock had pulled out the pie, bringing the entire dish to the table as well as another fork and plate. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Spock had read his mind.
"Just keep on breathing in and out, just like that. You're right here with me. Not leavin' ya," McCoy murmured as Spock began to cut a slice of the pie. "Wherever I go, you go. Wherever you go, I go, too. Not letting you outta my sight, Jim."
Jim's shoulders relaxed, a contented expression on his face.
He loosened his grip on Jim's hands, which were still trembling. Holding a fork and eating would be a difficult task if he couldn't relax completely.
"Take another deep breath and squeeze my hands," he said.
Jim obeyed, though his grasp wasn't as strong as it should be.
"Good. Keep listening to my voice, Captain," he prompted. "Let's see if you can relax even more, thinking about that pie."
Jim's shoulders dropped.
"Just like that, Jim. Listen to my voice. You know I'm here right beside ya. Not leaving. Right here while you think of that dessert you love so much. I think you can even smell the cherries as we speak."
He stifled a sigh of relief when Jim's tremors ceased.
"That's right, Jim," he murmured. "I'm right here with you. So is Spock. On the count of three, I want you to open your eyes. Nod if you understand."
Jim nodded once.
"Alright, Captain," he called softly. "One, two...three."
Jim's eyes fluttered open. They were a bit glazed but no longer anxious. If fact, he looked slightly dazed if not completely contented.
"Look down," he ordered him gently.
Jim's gaze dropped to the plate in front of him.
"It's all yours, Jim."
Jim blinked slowly, as if in disbelief that what he'd been thinking about was now under his nose.
"Go ahead," he urged, letting go of Jim's hands. "Eat to your heart's content."
Jim reached for the fork and tucked into the pie, sighing languidly.
McCoy watched him without saying another word, allowing him the space he needed to come back to himself. In his experience, it would take a few moments. Just the right amount of time he needed to finish the conversation with Spock.
"I was not aware of your extended influence over the captain," Spock said slowly.
"The imagery? Guiding him to picture something he really likes to eat? Putting him in a relaxed state? It's merely a trick I learned that worked with Jim a long time ago," he murmured. "When things at the Academy got a little….tense."
"It is truly fascinating," Spock said.
"I had years to perfect it," he said, glancing at him. "Though, this time, I might have added a few...words."
"Indeed," Spock said thoughtfully.
Jim chose that exact moment to stare up at him. "May I eat the entire piece?" he asked.
"Yes, Jim," he answered softly. "You eat and listen. Spock and I will talk."
Jim blinked. "Okay."
Any other time, McCoy would have been concerned about how easily he agreed, but not today.
"How did Treadway obtain this information?" Spock asked, wasting no time as Jim went back to eating his dessert for a second breakfast.
McCoy shook his head. "I don't know. A crewmember? Computer hacker? Someone who works at the hospital?"
"Do you know of anyone who might have a vendetta against you?" Spock said quietly, watching Jim in concern. "Or against…?"
He let the question hang for obvious reasons.
"Not that I know of in regards to me, but…" his voice faded for the same reason—just in case Jim chose to tune in more carefully than he was currently.
The question in and of itself was a can of worms. There were those who'd love to get back at Jim for one reason or another, thanks to the younger man's earlier years of rebellious and dangerous living, then becoming a captain so quickly. But who knew, now that Jim was the poster boy of Starfleet.
"It's possible," he said simply. "I should also check with Doctor Boyce, see who has been coming in and out of the place. See who, exactly, has been reading up on my patient's records. Activity is always logged."
"Unless the hacker is able to infiltrate the system anonymously," Spock said.
He rubbed his face, hand stilling on his chin. "Yes, Spock. Unless that."
"If that is the case, I will discover the hacker's identity, nonetheless." Spock narrowed his eyes. "I would also prefer to have a word with Jocelyn."
McCoy's brows raised. Spock wanted to speak with Joce?
"Alone," Spock added. "Without Treadway's influence."
"They marry within a month," he said. "When that happens, it'll be near impossible to accomplish that. I imagine he's forcing her to be extra cautious even now. He was the one to bring Jojo's bag."
"Unless she meets with you," Spock countered. "In regards to the custody. She cannot refuse."
"That's it," Jim murmured.
McCoy glanced at him sharply. "Jim?"
"Spock is right. She can't refuse," he said, eyes strangely brightening. "She can't refuse you, Bones."
"What do you mean?" McCoy asked, frowning.
"We just have to get Jocelyn to fall in love with you again," Jim said excitedly.
"What?" McCoy exclaimed. He immediately reached over the table and checked his forehead with the back of his hand. "You're going straight to bed."
"Bones, I'm fine now, really," he protested, waving away his hand.
"I'll be the judge of that." He scowled. "You're talking nonsense, Jim."
"No, it's perfect." Jim's head bobbed up and down. "We need to make her fall in love with you again," he insisted.
"We are doing no such thing," he gritted through clenched teeth.
"Captain, I must agree with Doctor McCoy," Spock said, eyes narrowed on Jim. "Your suggested course of action is unwise."
But Jim just smiled. "It'll work, trust me, Spock. And you're irresistible, Bones. My nightmare taught me that. Though, I knew that already."
"Are you outta your cornfed mind?" McCoy blurted. "There's no way in hell we're going to try and get my ex-wife to fall in love with me again, Jim."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Of course not. That's not what I'm suggesting."
"But that's what...what you just said!" he exhaled a strangled breath. "Then what are you saying?"
"Captain, I admit I am confused, as well," Spock said.
"We beat them at their own game," Jim said simply. "We become as deceptive as they are."
"How?" he asked.
"By changing Jocelyn's mind. About more than the custody battle." Jim lifted the fork to his mouth, taking another bite.
Spock's brow arched perfectly. "You are suggesting that we influence her to sever the engagement."
Jim swallowed. "I think you could think about letting her kiss you, Bones." He shrugs. "If she wants."
McCoy slumped in his seat. "Unbelievable."
"It'll work, Bones," Jim insisted again.
"I've heard that one before," he muttered.
"It will," Jim said brightly. "You're charming and old-fashioned, especially when you're not so grumpy. We just have to get her to see this side of you again, convince her that she wants to marry someone more like you instead of Treadway." He grinned and pointed his fork in the air at him. "You could even flirt."
"I am not going to flirt," he gritted, glaring at Jim. "Did ya forget what your nightmare was about?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "I didn't forget, Bones. But this won't be so bad. Just think about it. For Jojo's sake, as long as we pull this off without her knowing. Wouldn't want to get Jojo's hopes up in the wrong way."
"Still don't like it," he said, scowling. "What if we succeed, which is highly unlikely, and she dumps him just like that, and our ex-boxer takes it out on Jocelyn?"
Jim exchanged a glance with Spock. "See? He's sharing his caring side already. She won't be able to resist."
McCoy groaned, putting his face in his hands. "You said so yourself that he's dangerous," he muttered. "Jocelyn cutting off the engagement could send him over the edge," he warned, looking up.
Jim nodded. "Then we have to be discrete about it, act like we're not involved, like Jocelyn changed her own mind without any influence. I think Spock has a good idea about wanting to speak with Jocelyn alone. Now, how to get her alone without anyone knowing...that's the question."
"She'd come here for dinner if I invited her," a soft voice said from the doorway.
McCoy's head snapped up. "Mama…"
Nora cocked her head, smiling at him. "She used to come for meals in the evening, even after you divorced. Remember?"
He remembered. But those days were long gone. Jocelyn was different now, all those attributes he'd disliked in the past exacerbated because of Treadway.
He sighed. "Don't tell me you agree with all of this nonsense, too."
"I'll ask her today," she decided. "We can plan for the dinner to be two days from now, give Jim time to feel more like himself."
Jim looked at him expectantly. Hell, so did Spock.
"We mix like oil and water," he grumbled. "A fact that will never change."
"Just one night, dear," his mother gently pressed.
He crossed his arms and didn't speak for a moment. The tension rose in the room, and when he couldn't stand it any longer, he stated his demands.
"I'm not flirting or kissing or hugging. I'm not bending over backwards for her. I'm not trying to get her to fall in love with me, but I will show her that I care for her happiness because it directly affects our daughter. I will show her that I love our daughter with my whole heart and want to be a part of her life as much as possible, as much as Jocelyn will let me." He paused and stared right at Jim, to assure him that he meant what he said.
He wasn't leaving his best friend behind. Because even though the crew was family, Pike, Jim's father in every sense of the word, was gone. Yet another important figure taken from him. And that complicated matters more. He was bound to Jim in brotherhood and would watch over him. Just as Jim's position in Starfleet kept him in space. So did his.
"And as much as my position in Starfleet allows," he added quietly.
Jim blinked, fork loose in his hand.
"That's all we are asking, dear," Nora said gently.
McCoy's eyes were still on Jim, who swallowed and cleared his throat.
They exchanged a look, and he could see it in his eyes. If Jim hadn't gotten it in his thick skull yet that he meant what he said, he had now.
"It'll work, Bones," Jim said softly. "So that's a yes?
He sighed. What was he getting himself into?
"It's a yes."
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter as a whole, but I can't wait to know if you're intrigued by Spock and his...er...actions in this one. ;)
Btw, just to be clear, this isn't a set up for McCoy/Jocelyn. Definitely not going there. I have something completely different in mind in regards to Jocelyn and Joanna.
This story IS about Jim and Bones, first and foremost, and then the friendship between Spock, Jim, and Bones. It was my vision and it's going to stay that way.