I spent hours working on this. I rewrote several sections before I was finally satisfied. It's written a little different than Kirk's, but I hope you still enjoy it. It's more drabble-esque rather than insight like Kirk's. Also, it's all in present tense except for Uhura's section. Don't ask me why. It just is. Anyway, Bones is my favorite character (tied with Spock) so this was so much fun to write. His family life makes me want to hug him.
Disclaimer: I own a receipt for my spiffy new haircut. But I do not own Star Trek.
Warnings: Bones is a potty mouth, we all know this. And he's a bad influence on Kirk. Also, since I am such a huge Kirk/Bones fan, I can't not write them without writing a little slash. It can be constued as just strong friendship, but it can also be looked at as pre-slash.
Doctor Leonard H. McCoy
Nicknames stick to people, and the most ridiculous are the most adhesive.
-Thomas C. Haliburton
Everyone calls him Doctor.
There's blood everywhere. And it's Kirk's. And it's Sulu's. And the green splatter all over the transporter can belong to no one but Spock.
A stream of swears follows McCoy as he rushes into the transporter room with a handful of other doctors and nurses. They place the bleeding, unconscious bodies onto the stretchers before doing their best to carefully race down to Sick Bay.
There's blood everywhere. It drips on the cold tiles lining the hallway connecting the Sick Bay and the transporter. If Spock were awake, he would comment how logical it is to have placed the two wings beside each other.
McCoy grabs hyposprays and IVs left and right, yelling out orders to his subordinates as they run around him with their hands full of bandages and other medical supplies that blur white as they rush. Nurse Chapel runs a scan over Kirk's body as McCoy snatches it out of her hands.
"I've got this," he near shouts at her. With a quick nod, she moves away to Spock's bed, checking his statistics.
There's blood everywhere. On Kirk's stomach, his arms. His face looks as though it will be permanently stained red, particularly his mouth where the vivid blood must have dribbled out.
"Dammit!" Bones swears as he takes over the scan. A few broken ribs and burns aside, there are no serious injuries other than the bloody mess obtained from the explosion on that damn planet Kirk insisted on visiting.
Hours are spent patching up the captain, commander, and helmsmen, and McCoy has answered more questions on Vulcan physiology that he's sure he's going to be dreaming about logical situations for weeks to come. A carefully crafted expression crosses Chapel's face, and he knows that she's wondering why he didn't just take care of Spock himself. He knows Vulcans better than any of the other doctors.
But he's by Jim's side and refuses to leave.
"You're the doctor," Chapel shrugs, stabbing another hypospray into Spock's pale neck.
Thirty two hyposprays, five IVs, and several skin grafts later, Kirk, Spock, and Sulu are well on their way to a full recovery. A few doctors and nurses are willing to remain, but McCoy sends them off to rest.
"You all worked hard. Good job," he chokes out. He's overwhelmed with emotions and he's never been that skilled at complimenting others anyway. They filter out slowly, checking on their patients one last time before retiring to their beds.
Chapel is among the last to leave. She approaches him from behind and places a slim hand on his shoulder. He turns to find her smiling warmly at him, her face covered in green smudges.
"You did a good job yourself, Doctor."
"Well, there's a reason why I'm the CMO, isn't there?"
He knows he sounds arrogant, but he can just blame that on all the time he spends with Jim. Chapel gives him another careful expression before squeezing his shoulder and drifting away like a ghost through the door.
A few more hours pass while McCoy continues to monitor everyone's progress. He's bending over Sulu, fixing a bandage on the helmsman's arm when he hears a shuffle on the bed behind him.
Whipping around suddenly, McCoy sees Kirk blinking at him, his eyes swollen with sleep and pain medication.
"Hiya, Bones," he says with a crooked grin. A more serious expression crosses across his battered face as he looks around, wincing. "How are Spock and Sulu?"
Striding over quickly, the doctor sits in the chair he left beside his captain's bed.
"How you feelin', kid?"
"Eh, I've probably looked better," he answers, glancing at his heavily bandaged body. "Did Uhura see me?"
"Yeah, she came to visit ol' Spock earlier," McCoy says with a chuckle. He's never been so relieved to hear that cocky bastard's damn womanizing talk.
"Shit," Kirk mutters. He shifts under the sheets and McCoy contemplates giving him an extra blanket. Before he can stand up to get one, Kirk lightly grasps his wrist.
"You're not getting up to get a hypospray, are you?" The note of panic in his friend's voice causes the doctor to laugh a bit more. He shakes his head and settles back into his chair.
"Dammit, Jim, tonight I'm your friend, not a doctor."
The night is long since Jim mostly sleeps. Spock and Sulu wake up and McCoy tends to them. A little suffering is good for the soul, but an explosion earns them an extra blanket if they want one. There will be plenty of other times for him to act official, distribute warnings, and stab captains and science officers with hyposprays. He's a doctor, dammit. It's what he does.
His ex-wife calls him Leonard.
All she was supposed to take was his name.
But here they are, seven years later and she's taken everything.. The kitchen is silent except for the ticking of the cow clock on the wall that he installed there himself just a few years ago. The windows are open to let in the warm summer air, and the evening Georgia sunlight streams through the windows. Golden light covers everything, including his packed bags by the backdoor.
A long time ago when they both smiled all the time and the songs on the radio made them dance, he thought she was gorgeous even when she cried. But now she's sitting at the kitchen table with red rimmed eyes and he can't for the life of him remember why he ever thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
"I packed everything you'll need," she states, not looking up from the plaid tablecloth in front of her.
"Thanks."
Those damn red eyes glare up at him, frustrated with his sarcasm. He doesn't care. He didn't mean to amuse her. He stopped trying to make her happy months ago when he found her with Clay Treadway.
"Get out, Leonard," she says as though she's given up. That accent used to drive him crazy, the way she drawled out his name as she withered beneath him under the moon in her old man's field behind the barn. Now, he's a little colder and can't understand why he's so mad at her for that damn tone of her voice. She never would have given up before.
The cow clock ticks innocently in the background and all he wants to do is rip it off the wall and smash it on the floor. Instead he speaks, but he can't keep out the growl in his voice.
"Hope you and Clay have fun raising my daughter."
The twisted, pained expression on her pointed face doesn't give him the same feeling of satisfaction that he thought it would.
"She's not yours anymore. Leave, Leonard."
Her words would hurt if he weren't a damn proud McCoy. He only glares and clenches his fist as the venom from her voice seeps through his skin and enters his bloodstream. The strongest poison he's ever known, because it's only seconds before his vision is blurry with anger.
Not another word passes between them as he grabs his bags with those tight fists. He pulls the house keys from his pocket and drops them in the glass bowl on the counter next to the threshold. He's not going to need them off in Starfleet, he thinks as he walks out the storm door. There are smudges on the glass, probably from Joanna, but that's not his problem anymore.
Kirk calls him Bones.
"If whatsername was such a hateful bitch, why'd you marry her?"
Kirk never would have asked that question if he hadn't been a little tipsy. It's his first night at Starfleet, and he's sitting on his new stiff mattress across from his new roommate. Doctor Leonard McCoy (Kirk's not allowed to call him Lenny.) sits on the bed on the other side of the room, more drunk than tipsy. As two new cadets recruited at the last minute (Or in McCoy's case, forced into it against his free will at the last minute), they'd been paired together in the dorms. They'd opened their bottles of Romulan Ale to celebrate surviving the shuttle to Starfleet, but the mood soon turned sour.
The doctor is not a happy drunk, Kirk quickly observes. But he's curious about what McCoy had been talking about on the shuttle and maybe his tongue has been loosened with liquor. He's a sucker for people with complicated pasts.
Apparently it is because there's a beat of silence before the older man scowls darkly and takes another swig of the dark, shining liquid.
"She was pregnant, that's why." Either the ale or the emotion is making his voice deeper, and it intrigues Kirk even more. "We were twenty-one."
Kirk watches him swirl his drink around the glass as amber spots reflect on the wall. He raises the glass to his lips, but pulls it away at the last moment to set it down on the tiny table next to his bed.
"It wasn't always so bad. I loved her in the beginning."
Kirk doesn't know it yet, but that is the nicest comment McCoy will ever say about his ex-wife for the next God-knows-how-many years. McCoy slumps further on the bed, his hands on his knees. All Kirk can see is the top of a head with messy dark hair. Careful not to fall over from intoxication, he stands and joins the harsh older man on his bed.
"What was it that you said on the shuttle? She took everything but your bones?"
McCoy nods, his eyes looking at Kirk's nose because Kirk doubts he can find his eyes in his drunken stupor.
"Then she took your name, too."
McCoy wouldn't understand even if he was stone cold sober, so he just keeps staring at Kirk's nose. With a grin a mile wide, he slaps his hand on the doctor's shoulder.
"From now on, you're Bones."
"Bones?" He tests it out on his tongue, his face screwing up carefully in an almost adorable fashion. "Oh, God," he mutters, rubbing his scruffy face into the palms of his hands.
But Kirk can hear a bit of a smile under the complaint, and his smile grows even wider. He promises to himself that as long as they're friends (and he predicts that they will be friends for a very long time), he will replace angry memories of whatshername with better, funnier memories. After all, it's not just anyone who shares alcohol on a (potentially) very dangerous shuttle.
"You'll learn to love it."
Uhura calls him Leo.
"No."
Women. They could be so damn stubborn sometimes.
"Why not?" He knew he looked like a madman. Other cadets around on the campus were looking at them with looks ranging from amusement to worry.
She stopped her rapid walk down the sidewalk and whipped around sharply. She had stopped so abruptly that McCoy nearly ran into her. With her spine ramrod straight, she stared him down with her hands on her hips.
"Leo, I know you and Kirk love your pranks, but I'm not going to let you into my quarters so you can surprise him and Gaila!"
"Why not?" He repeated, sputtering. His arms flailed around his head erratically, though was very careful to not accidentally smack her in the head with his flying appendages. Surely then, there would be no chance of her ever agreeing.
"Because I know Gaila," she exclaimed as though her association with the Orion explained everything. Which it probably did, but this was a very serious matter! "And I know that anything that goes on in that room should never be seen by other people."
A myriad of pornographic and slightly disturbing images ran rampant in his mind for a moment. He shook his head to focus and placed his hands tightly on Uhura's shoulders.
"But Jim needs his vaccinations," he pleaded. It was pathetic, but he was almost ready to get on his knees and beg. "He's been avoiding me for days now. If he gets sick, he's a germ carrier and then I can get sick. Don't you understand?"
His grip on her shoulders tightened. She raised her eyebrows and shook a little with suppressed laughter.
"Yes, I do understand," she said sincerely as she pried his hands off of her. Then she gave him a stern, almost motherly look. "But he and Gaila are… ugh," she trailed off in disgust. "There are some things you can't unsee, Leo."
"Uhura!"
"Leo!"
Her eyes gleamed in frustration, exasperation etched in her face. Her earrings dangled and bounced against her neck as she shook her head slowly. But the corners of her lips were quirked upwards and her almond shaped eyes shone with humor.
"Oh, fine," he muttered, crossing his arms and looking off towards the small group of cadets who were still observing their very animated argument.
"Okay. Bye, Leo!" she said brightly, practically skipping away.
And just like that, she won.
Joanna calls him Daddy.
"Who's the pretty girl?" Kirk asks pointing at the small black picture frame on McCoy's desk.
"She's too young for you," McCoy grunts. Kirk smiles half-heartedly, but doesn't say anything more on the matter. The two men stare at the frame. It holds a picture of a six year old girl with white-blonde curls and lily pad eyes. She wears denim overalls and is being held by someone whose face has been slashed out of the picture.
"She looks like you," Kirk says, peering closer at the picture. McCoy watches warily as Kirk picks up the frame, holding it close to his face to peruse it more closely.
"She looks like her mother. Got her eyes and hair," he grunts, indicating the slashed out face in the corner. He has plenty of pictures of Joanna by herself, but it gives him a rather sick satisfaction to see Jocelyn's face cut out of the picture.
"Nah, Bones, she looks like you," Kirk insists. He shows the picture frame to McCoy as though the doctor hadn't already memorized it. McCoy rolls his eyes but looks as Kirk points to various spots on the smiling, happy face.
"She's got your chin and your nose. And I'll bet she's got your smile, but I don't think I've ever seen you do anything but scowl," Kirk jokes with that teasing grin of his. "She's got her mother's coloring, but she's got your face."
"Does she now? Huh, thought you said she was a pretty girl," McCoy scoffs, grabbing the frame from Kirk's hands. Kirk watches in amusement as he gently places it back on his desk with more tenderness than Kirk has ever seen him display.
"Well, you're a very pretty man, Bones," Kirk says slyly, waiting for his friend to look up before batting his eyelashes at the older man.
"Shut it, kid."
Kirk laughs to himself as he slumps unceremoniously on his bed. McCoy continues to look at the picture, an almost wistful expression on his face.
"How old is your daughter?"
"Joanna's seven now, but she's almost six in that picture," McCoy answers without hesitation.
Kirk raises an eyebrow. McCoy rarely displayed such raw emotion. In a matter of seconds, he realizes that his friend probably hadn't spoken to his daughter since whatsername kicked him out.
"You should contact her."
McCoy turns around to make a counter argument, but Kirk is already slipping into the bathroom. He's either fleeing the scene to escape McCoy's wrath or he's actually being a decent human being for once and is giving him some privacy.
He stares at the frame for a moment longer. He can remember taking that picture. They had gone to a petting zoo because Joanna decided goats were her favorite animal. He and Jocelyn weren't getting along too well at that point, but they loved their daughter even when they couldn't love each other. Joanna had just pet a goat and had been doubled over in joyful laughter. Jocelyn had scooped her up in a tight hug, pressing kisses along her cheek and hairline.
McCoy remembers how he laughed and snapped a picture because they both looked so beautiful. With a deep breath, he moves across the room and sits before the monitor to signal that old farmhouse in Georgia.
If Jocelyn answers the message, he'll hang up. And then kill Jim. It has to be in that order because otherwise Jocelyn will be a witness to the great James T. Kirk's murder, and she'd sell McCoy out in a heartbeat.
His own hearts beats too fast to be even close to a normal rate as the transfer loads on his computer. Reaching over to press the power button, he tries to end the communication before he has to deal with Jocelyn. He's too tired for a fight. He left those behind in Georgia.
But before he can cancel the transfer, a pixilated image appears on the screen. White-blonde curls. Lily pad eyes. His chin, his nose, his smile, his face. His daughter.
"Hello, Daddy."
Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter. Thank you for reading this chapter as well. And hopefully, thank you for reviewing. Let me know which sections you liked! I'd really appreciate it. I will try to update this quickly. Spock is next!