Author's Note: Hi guys! I know this is a shorter chapter...but it's all I could manage this past week. My "day job" has officially picked up and it was crazy and exhausting as expected. However, I didn't want to pass up the chance to post a chapter on the fic-versary of this story today. Huge thank yous to all of you who have stuck around for so long (A year! Yikes!) and also to those of you who've come along for the ride since then. Your support means to much. Hopefully, it won't take another year to complete. One fic-versary is enough for me. :D

Thank you to Plumeria 47, Diamondblue4, and junker5 for betaing - and keeping me on my toes, as always. *HUGS*

We're still at the bookstore. Hope you enjoy the read!

oOo

And If I Stand Next to You

Chapter 13

we bleed just to know we're alive

oOo

Joanna walked beside Matthew Kennedy to the section with her favorite books with bright eyes, a bounce to her step, and her hair swinging as she chattered. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful, engaging child in the store. And, in fact, drawing eyes from everywhere.

McCoy hung back, putting space between them.

Usually he didn't care what people thought of him, but the fact that the bookstore owner was the son of the nemesis of Jocelyn's family made all the difference. What had he been thinking? Bringing Jojo here? If Jocelyn found out…If Treadway found out...

Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to come here after all, when he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. When Joanna was clearly smitten with everything about this store. When it was just one more thing Jocelyn could use against him.

He'd hate for their presence to provoke more negativity between the companies. Not that he thought Matthew Kennedy had a single evil bone in his body. He had just met the man. Yet, he could see that he was genuinely interested in helping his young patron. Not only that, but he'd greeted them with what appeared to be the same welcoming smile as he would everyone else.

Then why did he feel as if he'd made a wrong choice—or at least a dangerous one—stepping inside this store?

"You are emotionally compromised," Spock said softly, coming beside him.

"What?" McCoy asked.

This probably was the last nail in his coffin. Yes, he'd given her up. Not exactly willingly but he had. And after this...

He would never see Jojo again. Never.

His loving daughter vanishing from his life as painfully as his father had vanished.

"It is my doing," Spock said, sounding distressed. "The bond is inhibiting you from functioning normally."

"What? I...no, Spock," McCoy said, shaking his head to clear his mind. He turned to him. "I'm fine. And we've been over this before, already. Even if I weren't fine, it's not your fault."

Spock studied him another moment longer, as if waiting for him to admit that he wasn't telling the whole truth. He didn't take the bait. Something had shifted in his mind, and maybe he did feel emotionally compromised. But so what? His best friend was at his Mama's house and still had a set of treatments to endure. An emotionally compromised state was nothing compared to that.

"Shall I accompany them on your behalf?" Spock finally asked.

"No," he said, frowning. "I'll—"

His communicator beeped, stopping him mid-sentence. He sighed.

"Hold on," he muttered.

He looked down at the screen, his heart momentarily stopping. He blinked several times, adjusting to the wave of anger mixed with anxiety and concern washing over him.

Christine.

Feeling Spock's eyes upon him, he glanced up. "I need to take this," he asserted. "Now."

"I will join Joanna," Spock said softly. He turned and walked towards Matthew and Jojo before they disappeared around a corner.

McCoy made his way to the front of the store, wanting to find a place to talk to Christine privately. There was none, save for the area behind the counter. It was also raining, even more than when he'd come in. He slipped behind the counter, praying no one would see him for a few minutes.

Would he be accused of hacking into their computers? Chuckling ruefully to himself, he flipped the communicator open. This could be another nail in the coffin.

"Chris," he said as normally as possible.

"Len," she replied quietly.

He swallowed down the accusation he'd had in his head earlier this morning. It was too cruel, even in this situation, at least until he had all the facts.

He took a breath. "Care to explain?"

"Explain what?" she asked. "Why I'm at Starfleet General?"

He paused. "Yes."

"With her mother off planet, Carol needed a friend. I...I needed a change."

He didn't believe her. She wouldn't leave a lucrative position—or space, for that matter. Not that she was drawn to it like Jim, or breathed space like he did, but she preferred life in space. It stretched her abilities, improved her skills. Challenged her. If he knew anything about Christine Chapel, he knew that. She never backed down from a challenge, not if it meant helping others.

"I see. Well, I won't be back for awhile, Chris," he said slowly.

"What about his treatments?"

"I'll take care of them here as long as I can." He hesitated. "They've been bad, Chris."

"I saw in your notes that they've been challenging," she said. "Are you sure you want to do that in a home?"

"He's comfortable here, and that's more important right now. We'll stay."

"That's good, Len," she said, voice softening. "I know he always liked it there in Atlanta, that it was more of a home to him than Riverside ever was."

"Spock will be back, though," he said, weighing his words carefully.

Had she caught the double meaning? Or the loose threat? What else could he say that would make her think twice about what she was doing?

She didn't answer.

"Might be good for Jim and me to have some time alone again," he said to break the silence, though he really didn't want Spock to leave. At least not yet. Not before Spock came clean with his plan. "We had some things to work out."

She sucked in a breath. "You had a falling out?"

He didn't imagine the strain in Christine's voice as they ignored the elephant in the room.

"In a way, but we did smooth things out between us," he said softly.

"I'm glad to hear that. I know what he means to you." She breathed in shakily. "Len, I need to go—"

"Listen," he interrupted curtly, eyeing two woman who'd walked up to the front counter. He backed away from the front as much as possible, sequestering himself in a corner with a window.

He stared outside despite the rain pelting against the glass, water drops sliding down and obstructing his view. What was going on inside Christine's head? Was Treadway threatening her? Or was he using someone else to get to her? He'd never known her to be so difficult. So...withdrawn.

"I have to leave in five minutes," she said crisply. "I called to see what you wanted, in case it was about the treatments, but this might not be the best time to talk about Jim's medical condition, after all."

"You know he threatened Jim?" he murmured.

"What?" she asked in an even more controlled voice. "Who?"

He closed his eyes in frustration. As if she didn't know. This conversation was going awkwardly enough that it pointed straight at her.

"Do I really have to say it?" he breathed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

A figure moved beside him, coming behind the counter. McCoy shifted his stance, eyeing Matthew and looking for an indication from him that he'd invaded a space that was off limits.

Kennedy gave him none, only frowned at him as if he were concerned.

He turned his back to Matthew and his customers and braced himself for the truth, though he doubted she'd give him anything. Not even a breadcrumb.

"What is your part in this, Chris?" he whispered, willing her to answer honestly like the Chris he knew.

"I don't know what you're—"

"He nearly punched the living daylights outta Jim," he interjected in a thickened drawl. "Right on my Mama's front porch."

"You don't understand," she whispered.

"Then help me understand," he pleaded into the comm. "Why would the best nurse that I know break her oath—break laws—and leak private medical information to an asshole?"

She inhaled sharply. "You don't know, Len. You don't...understand."

"Then help me understand," he pleaded again. "What kind of hold does Treadway have over you? You're smarter than he is."

"I can't, Len," she said, the shaking of her voice unmistakeable. "He said he'd…"

"He'd what?" he prompted her quietly.

"I have to go," she whispered.

"No, Chris, this isn't just about Jim. It's about Jojo, too," he pleaded for a third time. "Whatever he's told you, whatever he's making you believe, there's far more at stake than you realize."

"I can't, Len," she said, breaking into a rare sob.

It chilled him to the bone.

He straightened his shoulders. As of this very moment, he had to be ready for anything that would come out of her mouth.

"Chris, if it involves Jim and endangers his health in any way," he said in his professional tone. "I need to know."

"Len," she cried breathlessly. "Stop asking me."

Something in him broke. "You told him about Jim, didn't you?" he asked, numbly. "What I did to save him? The serum?"

"No—"

He barely suppressed a snarl. This was still his colleague, whom he'd greatly respected. Up until now. "I swear to God, Chris—"

"Stop asking me, or he'll—the people he's working with—will hurt Jim for real next time!" she cried.

His world spun out of control. Again.

Light-headed, he sagged against the window, denying with every fiber of his being that he could ever be this affected by mere threats. But the truth was, he felt more emotionally compromised than ever before.

"What?" he rasped.

"He'll hurt Jim," she said in a small voice. "He'll hurt...my own family. My parents. He's w-watching them."

This was even worse than he'd thought. Treadway was watching them. Was he watching Jim?

"Your parents? Why? How?" he asked hoarsely, forcing the words through his constricting throat.

"I'm sorry," she said, gasping. "I can't say more. I've already said too much. Stop asking me, Len, or he'll..."

"He'll what?" he asked in a biting tone, as if she were to blame. "How is he going to hurt Jim? Chris?"

"Do you care about Jim?"

His brows met at the middle. "Yes, of course I care about Jim. He's my best friend—"

"If Jim is your dearest friend like you say he is, you'll do nothing," she interrupted brusquely. "You'll say nothing of suspecting me. Otherwise…"

He clenched his jaw. "Tell me. Chris—"

The connection ended.

"—No. Chris. Wait—"

McCoy gripped his comm until his hand hurt, never bringing it down from his ear even when he realized he'd been talking to absolutely no one at the other end.

Why was everything always falling apart? How could he still be in this position? Cornered, like a caged animal? When Treadway was the animal, the one who belonged in a cage?

If he were to mention this to the Starfleet officials coming today, what would happen? Could they protect them—Christine, her parents, Jim—despite Treadway's threats? Would it do more damage than good? Would Treadway force her to reveal everything about Jim's recovery? Were they doomed to bend to his will?

"Everything okay?"

At the familiar voice, he automatically stiffened and slowly dropped his hand. He turned, Matthew Kennedy stared at him, a small, hardback book nestled in his hands.

He swallowed, for a split second wishing that he and this bookstore owner could trade places, for this burden he constantly carried to be lifted from his shoulders.

"Fine," he said in a voice that wasn't his, avoiding Matthew's prying eyes and looking down at the book, instead. "Everything's fine."

He walked around to the front of the counter where he should've been all along, not behind it like he worked here. He sighed with relief that they were the only two at the front of the store now.

"Is that Jojo's book?" he managed to ask.

There were no words on the cover, only an illustration of a bear, front and center.

"Yes, it is Miss Joanna's," Matthew said evenly. He placed it on the counter, his hands pressing down on the cover as he leaned forward with a frown. "Pardon me for being frank, but it doesn't sound fine," he continued, gaze steady. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be," he said without conviction.

"I see," Matthew said softly.

McCoy hung his head, bracing himself with his arms against the counter. Maybe it was a lie, but it was also a hope. A small hope.

"How many credits do I owe you?" he asked gruffly, not looking up at him.

He tapped his fingers on the counter in agitation.

Matthew was already wrapping the book and placing it in a bag with handles. "None," he said simply.

He raised a brow, meeting his gaze. He couldn't just take the thing, could he? Wouldn't that be a burr in Jocelyn's saddle.

The idea would be incredibly enticing if things weren't so serious.

"I'd like to do something nice for Miss Joanna," Matthew continued before he could put in a word edgewise. "Especially since it might...be difficult for her to come back here. If you want, we could set up an autoship of the next books in this series to her grandmother's house."

"Could you disguise the packaging?" McCoy joked before he could think better of it.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. We could." Matthew set the bag with the book on the counter, his stare unrelenting. "I have to say, it wouldn't be the first time we catered to a customer's needs in that way."

McCoy could only stare back at the man, who was more intuitive and caring than he ever could've ever predicted.

"Right," he said, swallowing hard. "I apologize if this was...awkward."

"Awkward?" Matthew said with a shake of his head. "No, not in the least. Awkward would be my step-father actually stepping foot inside my bookstore."

He frowned. Step-father? Not father?

"Why?" he asked, matching Kennedy's curiosity with his own.

Matthew cocked his head. "You don't remember me, do you?"

He narrowed his eyes on him, but couldn't place him. "We've met before?"

Matthew gave him a small smile. "I was a senior in high school, when you and Jocelyn were juniors."

"Your graduating class was the smallest one they'd had in decades," McCoy said, remembering that well. "Sorry to say, I still don't know who you are."

Matthew smiled crookedly. "I was the quarterback. I went by Matthew Hawkland back then."

An image of a severely injured football player on the field during one of the most anticipated games of the season flashed through his mind. The image of the once cocky, most popular athlete of the school did not connect with this studious, quiet man in front of him, who, if he were to be honest, looked like a scholar. Not a jock.

"You disappeared halfway into the season," he said slowly, "after breaking multiple school—state—records."

Matthew gave a short dry laugh. "I disappeared alright."

More came back to him. "An accident," McCoy said, voice dropping to a whisper. "After that injury, you and your parents…"

He purposefully didn't finish his statement, stopping himself before he brought up more hurtful reminders for the man who'd lost so much that year.

"After Dad died, my mom married this bank tycoon," Matthew said without missing a beat. "He didn't care for the fact that I'd lost my leg from some dumb football accident—"

McCoy fought a wince.

"—or that I got a prosthetic that disguised any limp at all. Only that I wouldn't try to worm my way into the family business, trying to displace my step-brothers' positions in the company." He shrugged. "You could say...I'm the black sheep of the family."

"But their corporation…"

"Is right down the street?" He narrowed his eyes. "Appearances, you know?

McCoy nodded grimly. He knew all about that. "I'm the one who should apologize, for the conversation I was having, not recognizing you..."

Matthew smiled. "It's pouring outside, if you've forgotten, and where else would you have a conversation in here? No, it's not a problem. About the other thing, it's okay. The glasses. This bookstore, of all places. It's not a football field, obviously. And it's been what? Fifteen years, at least. I'm...different.

"We've all changed," McCoy said.

"Speaking of that. Jocelyn came when I wasn't having a good day with my leg," Matthew said quietly.

McCoy's heart hardened against his ex-wife. "She gave you the cold shoulder?"

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. This was a upscale business in one of the prestigious blocks of the city. Of course she'd acted the part, even more so since this man standing in front of him was more or less her enemy.

"She wouldn't look at me," the other man admitted. "Her...boyfriend?"

McCoy gave a clipped nod of acknowledgment.

Matthew's eyes were guarded. "I don't want to be sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, but when they were leaving, Miss Joanna didn't want to go. Jocelyn's boyfriend practically—"

McCoy knew what Kennedy was going to say before the words came out of his mouth.

He knew that if Treadway had been in proximity, he'd have his hands around the man's neck.

He knew he'd commit a crime and never see Jim again, let alone Jojo.

He knew that he was going down a dark, dark road with no end in sight.

"—dragged Miss Joanna out the door."

His breathing grew labored, the silence thickening between them as he conjured up a million different scenarios. The worst being Treadway's hands on his precious baby girl's arm, one of his strong hands that had made him a fierce boxer fixed around her small, breakable bones.

His stomach churned. He'd have to take a look at Jojo's arms the first chance he got. If there was any indication of abuse, he'd have even more with which to contend.

"He hurt her?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Your ex-wife. Jocelyn," Matthew said slowly, eyeing him carefully. "She'd already left."

"You didn't answer me," he said, shooting him a glare.

Matthew sighed. "Doctor McCoy, I'll answer you if you can calm down. There are people who, if they come any closer, will hear you."

"Calm down?" he repeated in a hushed voice. "You have no idea what this bastard is doing—"

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Matthew interrupted, leaning against the counter. He frowned down at his leg, flexing it. "I wasn't born yesterday, and...my step-father likes to talk. Gossip—even to me."

"So you're saying…" He stopped, now confused. Did Kennedy know that Treadway was using Jojo to get to Jocelyn? That Treadway was bad news, using everything in his power to usurp his involvement with his own daughter?

"I'm saying..." Matthew threw a furtive glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to McCoy, stating his next words slowly. "He's bad news. He doesn't care about who he hurts to get what he wants. He's not you. And Miss Joanna...I think she knows it." He paused. "But I think you know that about Treadway, too, don't you?"

Tears sprung to McCoy's eyes. He blinked to stop them, nearly struck speechless by the words of a man he'd talked to only a handful of times in his life.

"Yes, yes I do," he said hoarsely.

Matthew's eyes widened. "I'm sorry," he said, looking taken aback.

"And I'll ask that you never speak about this again. To—"

"Doctor," another voice said softly beside him.

McCoy stared straight ahead, hardly hearing Spock, his world shrinking around him. When had his life become a fucking train wreck? He'd wanted a peaceful life, as peaceful as it could be in the black with an idiot who couldn't help but be reckless at times, his daughter loved by Jocelyn and his mother, not this wretched mess he was in. Would he not only have to give up Jojo, but give her up to an abusive man? Even if he tried to warn Jocelyn, would she even listen to him? Would he be forced give Jojo up to a monster?

I will not allow that to happen.

Spock, you can't possibly know—

I will stop him. I ask that you trust me, Leonard.

"Joanna has decided she misses Jim too much to stay," Spock stated primly.

McCoy glanced over his shoulder to find Joanna approaching them but with her eyes still glued to the massive tree in the center of the store. He couldn't help but smile to himself. She was so sidetracked she almost tripped over her own feet.

"We would also like to purchase these two umbrellas." Spock placed the items on the counter.

That immediately caught Jojo's attention. She turned her head towards them, her eyes wide and dancing with excitement.

"Oh, goodie. Those are so pretty!" she exclaimed, dashing over. "Alice in Wonderland! And...Shakespeare?"

Matthew laughed lightly, revealing none of the previous tension. "Commander Spock has good taste, and you, Miss Joanna, are quite smart."

"Uh-huh," she said absently, her attention on something else, already. She rested her chin on the counter, her eyes glued to the bag. "Is that my book?" she whispered.

"It sure is," Matthew whispered back, his smile just for her.

He handed her the bag over the counter.

"Thank you, Mister Matthew." She took it in her hands, clutching it to her chest, and turned to McCoy. "I'm ready to go, Daddy. I think Uncle Jim will be missing us."

"You're probably right about that, Darlin'. I'm sure he's missing ya," he said when he found his voice. He cleared his throat. "However, I have some other business to take care of first before we leave."

He glanced over at Kennedy.

Matthew looked at him hesitantly. "Is there something else I can help you with?'

"As a matter of fact, there is." He took a pad and pencil from off the counter—both surprised and impressed that such old-fashioned tools were handy—and scrawled his number on it. "I might be able to help you with that leg. Contact me in a few days, giving me some time to call a few colleagues first."

Matthew looked down at the paper in disbelief. "I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything. I'd also like to put Jojo on that mailing list. For the—"

"The Pickle Bear?" Jojo interrupted excitedly.

He smiled down at her. "Yes, Sweetheart. But they'll come to your Nana's house, not your mother's."

Joanna snuggled up against him. "She doesn't like them, anyway. Thank you, Daddy. I love you more than anything in the whole wide world."

oOo

Jim stared up at the ceiling in Bones's room, lost in thought. His body sank down into the mattress as if there were weights pressing in all around him. How could he still be tired after an hour and a half long nap? Granted, he was an irradiation recoveree, but he had been feeling better overall today. Better than he had in months. He'd had more energy this morning, less pain, and a mental clarity he hadn't had in weeks. It showed him just how much, exactly, the injections took out of him and what he had to look forward to when he was finally done with all of the treatments.

Being himself. Having a normal life. Or as close to a normal life as someone like him could ever have.

Still, he couldn't understand his fatigue, which had suddenly pinned him to this bed. Unless, it was his own fault that he'd been mentally exercising his bond with Bones and Spock, over and over. Or, rather, not exercising his bond with them.

Since he'd awakened, he'd been practicing a technique Old Spock had shown him. Well, shown the other him. The him who hadn't been born in space on the day his dad had died.

He, however, had only seen this technique in the "meld gone wrong of the century." Unless, that hadn't been an error on the Ambassador's part and Selek had actually wanted him to see it. Which was a possibility. That made it a meld that had still been wrong, being that he hadn't understood what was happening until...after it had happened.

Jim had learned the hard way that the Ambassador was sneaky. Possibly sneakier than him.

But if Spock knew what Selek had done...or if Bones knew…

His chest tightened with a fresh anxiety. He decided he needed to perfect this technique if it was the last thing he did, if it took all of his strength.

Who knew that shielding would be so much work?

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, pulling himself up to sit partly reclined instead of flat on his back like an invalid.

"James?" Nora said with a smile. "I wanted you to know that they're coming home."

"Already?"

He glanced over at the chronometer, quickly calculating how long they'd been gone. Nearly two hours, which wasn't long, considering the travel time and then the time Jojo wanted to have at the bookstore.

"Yes," she said softly, coming to his side. "You know they can't be far from you for very long."

"I don't want them to come home early because of me."

She shook her head, smiling again. "If I didn't know better, I'd think they plan their whole lives around you. You mean that much to them, my dear."

She placed a glass of iced tea on a coaster on the table beside the bed. "Here's a bit of a refreshment. If you would like some food, I can bring it up for you."

"No," he said swiftly. "I'm fine. The tea is great. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said. "If there's anything else I can get for you, give me a holler."

He smiled back. "I will."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Good."

After she left, he drank the tea and sank back into his pillow.

That he hadn't "heard" their decision to return through their bond told him that whatever he was doing was working. It was working, and he'd accomplished his goal. He was shielding. And shielding well.

He should have felt satisfied his hard work hadn't been for nothing, but he didn't. His heart beat unsteadily. He raised his arm, resting it on his forehead as a strong feeling of unease settled in the pit of his stomach.

Bones might not recognize the significance of this. In fact, he knew he wouldn't. At least, not on his own.

But Spock would. And he'd be curious, settling for nothing less than the truth from Jim as to how he'd suddenly attained this Vulcan telepathic technique.

As his mind spun with the secrets he'd never told anyone, not even Bones—that he'd been as emotionally compromised as Spock had been during the Narada attacks, suffering for months after that, thinking his world was imploding, hearing the screams of thousands, depressed he wasn't this other, more stable him—he nearly worked himself into a panic.

The panic came, anyway, in the form of sweating, labored breathing—and guilt.

He was lying by omission to the two people he supposedly trusted the most in all of the black.

And who trusted him...

Jim gulped.

He was in some serious, deep, deep shit.

Author's Note: Ambassador Spock=Selek in this verse. Actually, I'm not sure if this really is canon in the Kelvin timeline (nu!trek, reboot, etc.) but I've seen it used plenty of times in other fics to assume it is.

Thanks so much for reading! Please, review? "More angst to come" goes without saying. :D