A/N : I'm trying to update faster. I really am. Now my exams are over and I have more time to write.
Chapter 18
The sixth day
It was late. It was dark and quiet in the star base one. Only the night shift personal were on duty. The corridors were empty. Everyone was sound asleep. And yet, McCoy was awake. Not that he could sleep anyway.
He was sitting on this uncomfortable chair, unmoving and unspeaking. He has been sitting there in darkness of Kirk's allocated quarters for what seemed like hours, following the movements of the haunted figure in front of him.
Kirk was pacing back and forth like a caged animal; hands fisted tightly, one leg limping slightly. He didn't acknowledge the doctor, as if used to this silent presence. Heedless of anything around him, he was drowning himself in his own thoughts.
Doubts. Sorrows.
The doctor actually welcomed the darkness. The light would just make all the painful details stark clear; the way Kirk's shoulders were hunched, the pained wince that didn't seem to want to go away even with painkillers.
The worst of all was those eyes. They were so unlike the soulful eyes he was used to. He didn't want to look at them now. He couldn't bear the agony that clenched his heart every time he stole a glimpse at those lifeless orbs.
So empty. Resigned.
McCoy had almost given up calming the man. The effort seemed pointless. Kirk simply wouldn't calm down. A few days ago, he probably would have said something reassuring, encouraging, to try to get him out of his thoughts. But what was left that either him or Spock didn't already say?
What he said held little meaning even to his own ears. No surprise those words didn't work on his friend. So now he was silent, just offering his presence and waiting for Kirk to be willing to open up.
And he always will, McCoy thought, after he completely drains himself. Or after a couple of drinks. Though it hadn't worked so far. The guilt and the agony were cracking him from inside but he was not yet willing to speak a single word about it.
He always knew this method of coping was not the healthiest one, but Kirk somehow managed. He had seen it work before. But after what happened three nights ago, McCoy was not sure if his friend could cope as well as he believed he could.
His doctor friends down in the psychiatric ward were right. They all needed help to get over what happened. But of course, Kirk wouldn't listen. He wouldn't let anybody help him. He wouldn't let anyone get close enough to help. He knew just every right answer to led all of them to believe what he wanted.
To the crew passing by him in the corridors of the base or on the repairing ship, he would always look calm and in control of the situation, sad and tired yes, but not broken.
But that charade was over as soon as he was within the protective walls of his small quarters. As if he couldn't keep the mask on his face for one second longer.
The doctor and the first officer often came to visit him. Kirk wouldn't object their silent presence while he was in his most vulnerable state, as if content with it. He somehow felt protected in their company. But it came with a price. The ache never ceased, its form only changed.
The silence between them was deafening. McCoy wished Spock was here right now. Jim at least asked his first officer for updates from time to time. The doctor sighed inwardly. It seemed as if the emotionless hobgoblin was more successful than he was in helping Kirk.
But the Vulcan could not come, though he wanted to. The doctor had made him take a full day rest. He sure as hell needed it. And after what happened today in the briefing room, McCoy didn't want to strain the already weakened first officer. He was in a bad shape to begin with, barely kept on his feet with meds, but today, his body announced that he's had just enough.
Unfortunately the captain was present when the frail, lifeless body of his friend hit the floor without any warning.
He knew Kirk was affected greatly by the heart wrenching scene, though he was trying his damnedest to hide it. His more than usual agitation was a testament to how much he was unsuccessful.
Spock had insisted on staying with his captain. Right after he regained consciousness, he wanted to make sure his captain was convinced he was fine, so that maybe his tormented mind could be more at peace tonight.
As if Kirk had been able to sleep the nights before.
And to persuade him to rest, the doctor had promised him Jim won't be alone tonight.
So he was here, still sitting on that uncomfortable chair, and was trying to find a way to get his friend to start talking.
Kirk limped across the confining room one more time. The intense pain in his leg was getting to him. His knee was still weak and throbbed when he walked. No matter how much his good doctor insisted on rest, he couldn't stay still. He wouldn't ask for more painkillers either. He couldn't back away from the pain right now. He needed it to concentrate on keeping it together, to hold on to his tight grip on his devouring emotions.
He was completely spent. He had almost no sleep in the last few days. He couldn't close his eyes without reliving his horror. He was stuck in a star base in the middle of dead space and he could do absolutely nothing. He didn't even know what he should do. This sense of helplessness was driving him crazy.
He didn't remember how, but three nights ago was the last time he actually slept, only to wake up a few hours later shaky and nauseous with dread.
Old dreams mingled with new ones, creating more fearsome and devastating nightmares. They were mostly the same and started as soon as he closed his tired eyes for five minutes; The shouts of fear, disrupters firing, footsteps running, escaping, always escaping without reaching anywhere.
He was pretty sure the doctor was there when he fell asleep but the room was empty when he came back from the grip of his black terror.
He was glad McCoy didn't see him in that state. No one was to see him like that; pale and shaky, drenched in sweat and ready to be sick at any second.
He had resisted any kind of sleeping pills since then. He couldn't face those images again. And strangely, McCoy hadn't argued. He didn't even speak about that night. It was exactly what the captain wanted.
He appreciated his friend's well-meant efforts to help, but Kirk knew he was past that. Nothing and no one could help him.
He limped to the other end of the room for the last time, then sat heavily on the small bunker, head hang low, hands hiding his pale face.
McCoy opened his mouth then closed it after a second. As much as he wanted to close the distance between them, he chose to remain on his chair for the time being, not sure how Kirk would react and had far too many of his out bursts to be willing to risk a push right now.
This Jim in front of him was different. He was always on edge. And no amount of humor or hard liquor seemed to change that.
This past few days were hard on the doctor. He didn't know how to communicate with him anymore. Jim used to be like an open book to him. More Like his smaller brother actually. But now he didn't even know what to say.
A full minute passed in complete silence before the doctor could bring himself to speak.
"Do you need more painkillers, Jim?"
There was no answer. Not even a reaction. He didn't even lift his head. Like so many other times before. But the doctor knew better. He knew his friend was past the point of exhaustion and in a lot of pain. The combination was not pleasant in the doctor's first-hand experience. He sighed and tried again, voice gentle, "Jim, listen. You need rest. You're running yourself ragged. It won't help anybody if you-"
Kirk cut him off with his chilling voice, "Don't hover over me. Shouldn't you be by Spock's side right now, doctor? I thought he was your patient. What kind of a doctor you are? He is your charge!"
The doctor winced. The captain's tone was brisk, impatient. His eyes hard.
Well, it was more than grueling pain and severe lack of sleep, McCoy thought. Kirk had been under constant stress since the moment this all started. Yes, He understood. But the knowledge didn't take away the sting he felt every time Kirk snapped at him.
Kirk was right there, but the doctor missed his friend. The man sitting in front of him was only a shell of what he used to be. The pang that hit him was almost physical.
The doctor didn't let these words scratch too deep. He resisted feeling the loss deep in his aching bones. But it still hurt to bear the accusing look that for a moment, flashed in those hazel eyes. He tried to ignore his own feelings, like so many other times. He was an expert by now.
"Yeah well, he's gonna be fine. He's resting now, which you also should do."
Kirk snorted from behind his hands. Only doctor Leonard McCoy could insist on rest against such a cold reply. Damn stubborn.
The captain gripped the bridge of his nose and rubbed his sunken, bloodshot eyes. He then opened his tired eyes and studied the weary doctor for a few seconds, as if not just looking at him, but actually seeing him for the first time.
His throat caught with guilt. He had been so utterly blind to his friends' state of mind. He had let his own emotions cover what was important from his hazy mind. He was supposed to take care of them. It was his responsibility, and look what he had done. His decision had cost everyone so much, it had cost them their lives. Everyone knew that, McCoy knew that. Why the good doctor was still there, was beyond him.
"Why are you here anyways? You look half past dead yourself, Bones. Why don't you rest some?" the tone came gentler this time. Closer to the caring tone the doctor had come to relate with his friend.
"I'll rest as soon as I make sure my difficult patient gets some too."
McCoy smiled slightly, trying to lighten the dark mood, even if his words were too slurred from tiredness to keep up the bravado.
Kirk didn't know what he could say. He was not sure if he could take it much more. He didn't want to see how frail and drawn his friend had become, or how his eyes were tired and half closed, yet still patient and caring.
you caused all this… They didn't deserve this… you don't deserve this friendship. This sacrifice…
It was too much for him. He just wanted to get away from this all. This pain. This guilt that was driving him insane. He wanted to shut it all out. If he could just shut the voice in his mind down for one minute...
McCoy kept the hopeful smile for a few more seconds, but no further answer came from Kirk and they both fell into the uncomfortable silence again.
Kirk was staring at an unknown spot. It was the state the doctor often found him in after hours of pacing back and forth till it drained his tension or he became too breathless and light headed to walk anymore.
The doctor just wished he knew what was going on in his head. This blank expression and empty eyes were deeply unnerving him. He wanted to practically grab him and shake him out of it.
He could see his friend slip away right in front of his eyes, and nothing he said or did seemed to change that. He felt absolutely helpless.
He didn't want this agonizing silence to continue anymore. And when it became too much for him, he decided it was time to push it.
"You know Spock is gonna be fine right?"
"Yes."
A long pause.
"I get it you've been talking to some of the crewmen."
The answer, when it came, was in a low voice.
"Yes."
"And?"
"They are filling official reports against me. Guess that was inevitable from the beginning."
That was no news to the doctor. But he had hoped for other answers. He had hoped the situation had changed somehow. His friend was already in too much mess. He didn't deserve anymore of it.
The captain didn't look angry, or even sad. His face was indifferent. McCoy wished the captain at least showed an emotion. Anything that could chase away this emptiness that was now so heavy he could feel its weight in the air he breathed. But still, if he could bring his friend to talk some, it was still an improvement.
"I'm sure those handful ignorant will come to their right minds. They'll understand sooner or later. This isn't over Jim. You can prove them wrong. Talk to them. Make them understand that following the original order didn't make the final outcome any better. You took the best option on the table."
"That's the thing, Bones. I chose and look what's the result… I should've prevented it! I don't blame them. They have the right to accuse me. I was responsible for all of this. It was my decision, my order. They lost their comrades, Bones. Friends." Kirk's eyes were sad, his hands fisted on his knees. He continued after a long intake of breath, voice hoarse and broken. "The toll this took on us ... They think I've lost it… and maybe they are right…" he didn't continue. As if every word caused too much pain. Not that he would say or even let it appear on his tired face.
But the doctor didn't need all those hints to know what he knew. How many times did he or Spock took part in a version of this conversation. But did Leonard McCoy really believe in what he was telling his friend?
"Jim, we had this conversation, remember? The psych evaluation results were just fine. You are completely fine. Your decision was the right one. It was the only right thing anyone could do. Even those admirals know you have a point. Why else do you think we are all still here? What is taking them so long? They should've decided something by now. They were there; ready to tear our throats out fast enough! Why not now? Something else is going on, I know it. I can feel it in my bones."
"I don't know, bones. I... I can't think…my head is ... I …" the pained expression that came on Kirk's young face jabbed at his heart. McCoy swallowed with difficulty. That tone of voice was like broken glass that tore at his already bleeding soul. He inhaled to calm himself.
He knew that right now, Kirk couldn't handle this. He didn't want to go down that road again. Unlike Kirk, he remembered all too vividly what happened three nights before and knew this time, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from falling apart. He just couldn't stand to see Kirk that way. So he decided to change the subject for now, to talk about more pleasant things.
"Did you see Scotty?"
"Yes. He said he's fine. Complained he's bored. He said he'll be out of there in a couple of days, but the nurse-"
McCoy cut him hastily. It was so hard to find an innocent subject to talk about. "Yea, he's a strong lad, you know. Will be up and about in no time and will be horrified when he finds out how his girl is treated by those sloppy star base engineers." His grin was a little bit exaggerated.
Slowly, Kirk smiled slightly. This was a relief for the doctor, yet the expression lacked something fundamental.
Kirk read the concern wavering in McCoy's sad eyes. He smiled just to humor the good doctor. He had to consciously try to do it. He had to keep his facade because he was the captain, even if he was in non-punitive suspension for now and had no real authority. But he still had responsibility. And the feeling of guilt that came with it was becoming too much for him to hide, especially when McCoy or Spock were around him.
They wanted to help him, but they just made the pain worse. Their loyalty and compassion was like fuel on the fire of guilt and self-loathing that was consuming him. They tried to reassure him, but all he was thinking was that many of his officers were gone because of him. Forty eight casualties, plus twice that were wounded. They had families, friends, loved ones. All of that was lost, and he was responsible for every single one of them.
No matter how many times Spock or McCoy told him that he had done absolutely the right thing, the pain he felt in his heart never even slightly let up.
McCoy was still looking at him as if waiting for some sort of reply. The captain knew what his friend was trying to do. The good doctor had been through so much already. He didn't deserve anymore pain.
Why are you still here, Bones? Why are you tolerating me? You don't deserve this. You deserve much better.
His heart broke a little more in the face of this loyalty. He didn't deserve such good friends. He knew he hadn't been particularly warm or friendly these past days. Hell, he had been downright intolerable most of the times. He had yelled at his friend to leave him alone, to stop tending to his wounds, to stop insisting to eat, and yet here he was again, ready to take the burnt.
McCoy didn't let the moment pass. The flash of life he saw in Kirk's eyes warmed his heart. He needed to see a sign of vitality on that face so that he could keep going.
"I see you've kept busy during the day. How's the ship by the way?"
Kirk sighed, deciding to play along, "Not good. She's been damaged badly. They are behind their primary schedule. The cost to repair her... It's too painful to see it like that."
Kirk spent most of his time on the ship. Mostly to personally take part in repairs and to help the maintenance groups, but also because he knew he had to keep busy if he was to stay sane.
It helped him stay in control of himself. To keep his guilt and regret at bay. He just wanted peace. A few minutes of calm silence that came over his shattered mind when he was focused on re-programming the main computer or when he was in Jefferies tubes replacing parts.
The voice that sounded very much like his own, followed him everywhere. The tone always full of anger and hatred, the words accusing and blaming, bringing him to the point of breaking.
The enterprise officers, the ones with able body and practical knowledge, helped with the repairs as well.
They often saw their former captain checking a console here or re-wiring a machine there, always ready to give a hand if they needed.
The man worked harder than any one of them. He pulled two shifts every day. He was already there when the alpha group came. He barely left the ship for break, and left only after the beta group was relieved.
The officers could see their captain fade away a little more every passing day.
Every day, his face was paler, and when handling instruments his hands shaking a little worse from tiredness.
No one really talked about it but they all knew the doctor was greatly concerned for the captain's state of health.
Uhura, Chekov and even Sulu had tried their best to get him to talk. Uhura saw him on the enterprise most of the times. And they talked a lot. Yet, she could not open the subject with him. It was as if he did everything he could to keep them all out.
Kirk would chat, spend time even joke and laugh with any one of the crew if need be to avoid the painful conversation. He would always find a way to skip the subject.
Uhura often tried to keep an eye on him. She wanted to help but knew her captain hated pity more than anything. Aside from that, she really didn't know what she could say that would make a difference for him. She didn't know what to tell to make him feel better. But that didn't keep her from trying to be near to help if he needed any.
She saw him once leaning unobtrusively on a chair and laboring to catch his breath.
She wanted to rush to his side to help him. She even considered asking Christine Chapel for help, but then decided otherwise.
McCoy was involved with healing the man. If anyone could help him it would be his doctor friend.
The man felt guilty, they all could tell. And this heavy weight on his shoulders was destroying him little by little.
They were all concerned.
But she knew there were some of the officers who couldn't accept him as their captain anymore. It was his decision that brought them here after all. Not that they could understand what really happened. They didn't want to. Because they were all lost and hurt and needed someone to blame. Kirk, grounded and denounced by the admirals, was just the easiest target. It was as simple as that.
The doctor knew Uhura was concerned. She had told him that much. She wanted to help. Sulu and Chekov too.
All they could do was to tell everyone what exactly happened on the planet, and after that on the bridge, and why. And make them open their eyes and see the truth.
They vowed to themselves they would do whatever they could to redeem their captain.
My recommended song: Give Me a Sign by Breaking Benjamin