Author's Note: I think with chapter 5, we're a little more than halfway through the beginning. I hope that doesn't scare any of you away. :-) This story probably has the thickest plot I've ever written - and a great deal of unfolding irony as we go on. It's actually a daunting task so I really appreciate those of you that have read, followed, and/or reviewed. For those who love angst, there is more sad!Jim and distraught!McCoy to come right now...and who knows what else. Although we've brushed upon it, we really haven't hit the any of the major parts that influence the title yet, which are the most fun for me as a writer but awfully trying for our favorite trio. So...buckle up! DLB48, I am ever so grateful for your beta help, especially when I have health flare ups that make writing difficult! I truly appreciate your kindness and willingness to pull me through those rough patches of writing.
Jim raced down the deserted street, desperately searching for a place to hide, anywhere to escape what followed him. Heart thumping, he spotted an open door and crashed through. None too soon, for his quaking legs could no longer hold him and he collapsed. He breathed deeply and peered through the darkness. Jim made out a figure standing on the far side of the room and in recognizing the shape of the shoulders, he sighed in relief. "Bones!" As the doctor turned around, Jim realized with horror that rather than happiness at seeing him, the doctor's eyes were filled with malice. Even worse was the fact that he wasn't alone. Stringing along in a line behind the doctor were a parade of figures from Jim's past, some he recognized and others who were only vaguely familiar. Every one of them had eyes boring into his skull. Locking eyes with his worst nightmare, he opened his mouth to scream the governor's name. Instead, Jim found himself both voiceless and helpless.
Jim awoke with a start, eyes flying open and tumbling back to reality. His lungs sucked at the air with deep, aching breaths as he blinked rapidly at the encompassing darkness, but he found nothing that could calm his racing heart. The sweat-soaked, twisted blanket felt more like a shroud than a comforting presence and his body refused to relax, burdened as it was by the lingering horrors of his broken slumber.
"Computer...what...is...the time," Jim rasped between breaths.
"The time is six twenty-two."
Jim groaned, eyes darting around the room as he lay anxious and waiting for a sense of normalcy to return to his mind and body. The morning had arrived far too soon. Ever so slowly the faces of his nightmare began to fade and his eyes adjusted to the dim room. He frowned, realizing he'd fallen asleep on the couch. When his chest stopped heaving, he sat up with the blanket gathered at his waist and held his slightly aching head with one hand.
The vivid nightmare, added to Bones' cold shoulder the day before, had left him even more off balance and feeling as if his mind was burdened with iron shackles, the troubles from both the present and past. Still dressed from the night before, he stood and furrowed his brow once he stopped at his table. The note left there didn't register until he read it through the second time.
Captain Kirk- I left shortly after you fell asleep and will finish the research you requested. I can talk with you at your convenience today. You looked cold so I placed the blanket on you before I returned to my quarters. -Dr. Jahnas.
He blamed his vague remembrance that Dr. Jahnas had even been in his quarters on the wine he'd consumed. She'd stayed until four-thirty in the morning according to the timestamp. He last recalled the time at roughly three or shortly after, but that was before he drank the wine. He did find relief remembering their time together had been completely professional, neither one of them crossing a line. He frowned deeper. Actually, he now recalled Aleyah teasing him that he was holding out for a certain female science officer and feeling quite embarrassed that she somehow knew of his feelings for Dr. Mar-
Jim shook himself from his reverie and slumped in a chair at the table, head dropping into his hands as his body felt the effects of only two hours of sleep for far too many consecutive days.
He couldn't ask Bones for another sedative. He couldn't ask Bones for anything and if he found out that Dr. Jahnas had been here, Jim would be facing a severe lecture from the doctor- even if Bones would let him explain himself. He knew how dependent Jim had been upon Gaila, and if he wanted to be honest...he'd been tempted by Aleyah but he'd held himself back with all that he had.
Bones wanted Jim to talk, and Jim wouldn't mind talking to Bones but they didn't want to talk about the same things. They were things best left alone, and wouldn't Jim know that more than anyone? The only choice Jim had was to suffer silently and persevere with grit and determination. Make those things invisible that Bones deduced were happening to Jim. With luck, the old haunts would eventually fade to a more manageable level.
One thing for certain was that he didn't appreciate being pushed into a corner. He would go down fighting.
Jim showered and threw on his blacks and command shirt. He skipped shaving, seeing that his body wouldn't cooperate and move quickly enough without his coffee and he was already behind schedule. He'd be dragging himself through the entire day and unfortunately, that wouldn't be ideal. His day was fuller than usual with his crew busier than ever because of this final day of their Re'an mission.
He wanted to bypass the mess hall, but his heart protested too much to do that to Bones. Maybe they'd sit in silence, and for Jim that would be enough. It had to be enough for both of them right now. Nothing was the same and Jim didn't know why, but he'd try. He'd try, and so he walked to the mess hall in good faith.
When Jim found the spot across his own regular seat empty, the little hope that he had left vanished like a falling star.
Three weeks in a row.
He almost couldn't believe his friend's repeated absence. He blinked his eyes furiously, catching the emotion before it started. He blamed his restless night for the rare sensation. Another night, another nightmare, and entirely predictable. Worse yet, the visit to sickbay for a mandatory hypo was weighing heavily on his mind. Since Bones hadn't shown up here, how was Jim to act when he went to sickbay? It wasn't like he could skip this one. This inoculation was one of several necessary for him to keep from catching the Re'an V virus. He had to see Bones for another hypo, and one more crucial than the others.
To remain as level-headed as possible, Jim sorted through the facts, rethinking why his friend neglected to show. He would give Bones the benefit of a doubt. For one, he still cared for Jim's medical concerns. For another, when it got right down to it, there was nothing - besides confronting that his past was catching up to him- that Jim wouldn't do for Bones.
Nothing.
Jim strode towards the bridge and shrugged off the hurt as best he could. More than likely it was Jim's fault, anyway. Not Bones'.
He sighed. If she was well enough, he'd have Rand bring him his coffee on the bridge.
When McCoy came on the bridge two hours later, the over-caffeinated captain was hard to miss. Eyes wired, slightly jittery, fingers tapping, flitting from station to station, and a hovering first officer were instant signs that the captain had indulged a little too much.
Dammit, Jim. McCoy scowled. In good conscience, McCoy couldn't give Jim the inoculation in this condition but he'd no other option. Even though he'd already commed Jim twice for a reminder, the man hadn't made his way to sickbay. McCoy had no choice but to come up to get him.
"Dr. McCoy," Jim said with a casual air, now leaning over Chekov's console and giving the doctor hardly a glance. "I was just coming to see you."
"Let's go, Jim," McCoy said quietly, controlling his temper and hoping they would not make a scene on the bridge. Jim certainly was not planning a visit to sickbay.
"Bones, just a minute." Jim frowned. He pointed to the screen. "There. See that fluctuation in the sensor readings? Will that be a problem when we leave tomorrow, Mr. Chekov?"
Chekov shook his head. "I do not know sir but I vill look into it."
"Jim," McCoy repeated.
"Thank you, Mr. Chekov. Spock," Jim began walking toward the lift. "You have the conn."
"Very well, Captain."
"Mr. Chekov," Jim added. "I would also like the new course charted by tomorrow."
"Aye, Keptin."
McCoy silently led the way back to the lift. Neither he nor Jim made any sort of sign they were aware of each other, although McCoy was all too aware of the man standing next to him. Jim crossed his arms, looking straight ahead but constantly shifting his stance and tapping his arms with his fingers. The captain was a bundle of nervous energy that McCoy did not want to take with him to sickbay.
Damn coffee.
"You'll need to have some food, first." The doors slid open.
"Naw." Jim shook his head, getting a head start before McCoy out of the lift. "Just get it done and over with. I went to the mess hall for my breakfast. Did you?"
McCoy blinked. Jim usually didn't do passive aggressive. It hurt. "I..."
Jim clapped McCoy on the back as the doctor caught up to him outside of sickbay. "No big deal, right?"
McCoy stiffened, backing away. He didn't deserve Jim's touch, especially today. Jim's expression fell but McCoy didn't know how to explain without causing an avalanche of other problems.
"Bones?" Jim asked, confusedly. McCoy headed towards a more private area where he'd prepared Jim's hypo, heart thudding in his ears at Jim's pitiful and anguished voice. He heard Jim's heavy sigh and saw from the corner of his eye Jim hopping up onto the usual biobed he used. It was closest to nearly every workstation McCoy utilized.
He'd exactly what Jim needed to ensure he could give the inoculation within half an hour without Jim feeling too many side effects. As he took out the supplemental food and drink, his guilt rose. Jim would've been better prepared for this had McCoy done the right thing.
"Here," he said quietly, handing the food and drink to Jim.
"I don't need it. I had coffee," Jim said with a wave of his hand, as if coffee was the bandaid that fixed everything.
Jim's current condition was McCoy's fault. He had to fix it but didn't know if he had the patience. He didn't think he had the patience to deal with himself. He hardly had the patience dealing with his ex-wife and her recent, relentless desire for sole custody of Joanna, but he was fighting for his beloved daughter, nonetheless. Why couldn't he do the same for Jim? Of all the idiotic things for him to do. McCoy knew better.
McCoy expelled a heavy breath, too late in realizing that Jim's expression grew colder after the fact. Where the hell was his patience? Was he the surgeon who unfailingly spent hours in meticulous surgeries saving Jim's life or not? Was he the man who continuously pulled Jim out of a mental gutter or a man who folded under pressure? Was he the man whose vigilance revived a dead man or was he a physician too afraid to try again to save his best friend?
Seeing Jim in such a position devastated McCoy, overwhelming him with what the future could hold for the young captain. How could he get Jim to finally acknowledge the looming breakdown? Every part of him wanted to scream sense into his best friend. Not only that, but had Jim been cooperative, their friendship would not have suffered.
"I know that you didn't eat and you know better than to throw that coffee crap at me. So. Here. Eat. Drink."
"And be merry?" Jim mocked.
McCoy clenched his teeth. His thin veil of calmness threatened to tear apart as Jim shot sarcasm at him. "Stay on this bed. Right here, Jim, until I come back. Then, you will get that hypo."
"For how long? I'm busy. I have to meet with the away team and - "
"Half an hour," he said, irritated.
"Fine," Jim said shortly.
McCoy nodded and closed the curtain around Jim. It wasn't usually what he did with such a short visit so when Jim stopped him, clutching the curtain's edge with a stormy expression, he realized Jim took it the wrong way. Maybe even believing he didn't want to see him. Which, after what McCoy did to him this morning, McCoy couldn't fault him for thinking that way.
"Shall I find another bed, doctor?" Jim's face closed as he scooted off of the bed.
"Cut it out, Jim."
Jim ignored him and strolled nonchalantly, hand carressing each bed and taking his time until he chose a spot five beds down. "I'm sure I will be out of your way down here."
Christine, ever on alert when Jim came down these days, frowned at McCoy. He looked away, not wanting to see the patronizing expression on her face. Although it was Jim who was acting immaturely, McCoy's actions and words had provoked the behavior. McCoy had to admit he appreciated how protective the nurse had become when Jim needed it most.
McCoy almost choked as a fresh wave of desperation swelled up in his chest.
Jim needed protection from him.
"You're not in my way." McCoy swallowed, barely managing to keep his voice void of any negativity. "Just...sit still, alright?"
Guilt-ridden, McCoy didn't return to check on Jim until exactly twenty-five minutes later, and when he did, he found Jim asleep, with only half of his drink and food consumed. Leave it to Jim to fall asleep - or close to it - on so much coffee. McCoy had a hunch as to why he was so tired.
Food or not, it'd have to do. Jim needed that hypo before too much time passed. The alternative - allowing the captain's protection against the virus to greatly diminish - wasn't acceptable. He'd give Jim a med to alleviate the symptoms and it wasn't anything Jim hadn't dealt with before, McCoy rationalized to himself. Irritated that this was not going as planned, and irritated that the wretched planet required him to give the inoculation in the first place, McCoy took the supplements from Jim's loosely clenched fists and laid them aside. While Jim was not even lucid, McCoy stuck the hypo in his neck.
Jim immediately shot up, hand to his neck. Jim groaned, rubbing the spot where McCoy had unceremoniously stuck him with the hypo. "What's up with the damn hypos lately, Bones?"
"You shouldn't have jerked up like that."
"You should have warned me." Anger filled Jim's words. "That was even worse than usual."
"Jim, you'll need to increase your fluids intake by a good thirty-six ounces for the next twenty-four hours." McCoy paused, as Christine appeared once again out of nowhere. "Since you didn't eat sufficiently before the shot, Nurse Chapel will give you a med that will help with the nausea. It shouldn't be too bad. As we discussed before, you may experience some dizziness but it won't last long. Take the day nice and easy. Okay? I'll come check on ya later, Jim, before you head to Re'an V."
He'd be a terrible doctor if he didn't check on Jim several times today - especially about his liquid intake. But, right now he was just settling to be called a bad doctor. Admittedly. He and Jim had to talk.
"I wanted to eat what I should've before the shot. This morning," Jim gritted. "But I lost my appetite and then forgot when I was on the bridge."
McCoy pretended to study his PADD while Christine handed Jim two pills and a glass of water. Jim had every reason to be angry with him. If only he'd met Jim for breakfast as they'd planned...
"I'm sorry, Jim," McCoy said, barely looking up at the captain, the very reason for the heart-wrenching guilt he was feeling. "Listen. Later during your shift we can discuss why you're not sleeping."
"I'm sleeping just fine," Jim muttered after he chugged the pills down. He furiously attacked the sore area on his neck with his fingers.
"The nightmares, then." McCoy looked up then, going straight for it. Who knew when he'd have a chance to question Jim again. He held his breath, hoping for a miracle - for Jim to answer honestly. Christine's brow furrowed as she glanced back and forth between doctor and patient.
"Don't know what you're talking about." Jim said in a flat tone. He'd the look of innocence but McCoy refused to be fooled. How many times had he approached Jim about this the past few weeks only to be shut down?
"Jim-"
"Next time I come in, I'll be sure to use this bed." Jim's bitterness dripped from each word. Christine stood beside Jim, taking over McCoy's job and giving Jim a hand as he slid off the bed. She steadied him but backed away after he shook his head at her. An apology was on the tip of McCoy's tongue but Jim was stalking out of sickbay before he could find the appropriate words. "I would hate to inconvenience you again."
"You better get this under control, Leonard," Christine said in a low voice after Jim disappeared from sight. "If you don't..."
McCoy finally let out his breath. "I will, Christine."
He had to. If he didn't, he'd never forgive himself.
Where had they gone wrong?