Leonard's not sure when having a meltdown became a way of life but it's snuck up and become the new normal. That thought alone is depressing and draining in a way he's never known before. This isn't what he fought so hard to get back to.
His panic attacks all follow the same pattern. He sees someone, and before he can make his brain realize it's not some alternate version (or maybe it is; who knows anymore), something is trying to claw its way out his chest and he can't catch his breath. His mind tumbles through and endless analysis of everything, searching for clues as to which universe he's in. The thoughts and doubts are dizzying, like water spinning down the drain, and it sucks what little energy he can conjure for the day.
It ends with Jim holding him and promising that it's alright, but McCoy doesn't know if he can believe. Jim's lied to him before; making promises he couldn't possibly keep. Jim spends so much time whispering apologises to McCoy when he thinks the doctor is too far gone to listen anyways, McCoy's beginning to wonder if he must really be guilty of something.
The crew means well; dropping in to wish him well and check on his well being. If Leonard had the energy to care, he would be honestly touched, but the weight of everything is already crushing and their well meaning intentions are doing more harm than good. It doesn't help that Leonard can't be bothered to talk to any of them. Conversation feels hollow and forced as visitors carefully dance around the question they're dying to ask: what was it like to be brutally tortured by someone wearing the face of those you trust?
Spock and Sulu are automatic tickets to the shit show. Luckily it only took one visit apiece for both to decide to make themselves scarce. Chekov is hit and miss. More often than not, the only response the kid stirs within McCoy is a deep need to apologise. He tried once, but the babbled sorrys just confused the young ensign enough that he keeps his distance and only drops by for a moment if he knows someone else is stopping by to check on the doctor. Safety in numbers, like Leonard will try harder to keep his crazy under wraps if he has more of an audience. Little do they know that the insanity is bubbling and festering beneath his skin and when it explodes, it won't care who or how many people are in the room. There's a part of him that appreciates them trying, unfortunately it isn't the part that wins out most days.
Scotty and Uhura are pretty safe, though he doesn't see that much of them. Leonard didn't see their counterparts at in the alternate universe at all really, so there isn't any deep seeded reaction hiding beneath the skin. Scotty drops by every couple of days after shift but is often too busy to constantly hold McCoy's hand. The engineer mostly talks with Jim since Leonard has nothing to offer conversationally beyond a bitter fine when asked how he's doing today.
Nyota is actually a soothing companion. Not only can she say things in dozen of languages, she can also understand the syntax of silence. She's the only one that seems to be able to engage in Leonard's silent conversations without judgement and expectation. Leonard isn't such a bastard that he'd ask Uhura to ditch her boyfriend to play emotional support blanket for him, so she's only made a few appearances that Leonard's been aware of. The crew is busy and sitting in a hospital room while Leonard vacillates between wanting company to break up the isolation and accusing them all of trying to kill him is awkward for everyone.
That leaves Jim, who's constant presence feels like he's suffocating Leonard. Maybe that's his nefarious plan? Leonard straddles the edge of white knuckling his presence and being grateful for it. The only thing worse than being in the company of a monster, is being trapped alone with his own personal demons. Jim's the only tether he has to some form of reality, be it this universe or another, but there's something deep within McCoy that wants to scratch Kirk's eyes out.
Kirk comes and sits with him every day. It makes it hard to ignore the world. Jim's too stubborn to let him wallow in his own misery the way his medical team will when he finds the strength to bite their heads off. Jim just takes McCoy's shit and misplaced aggression like a well worn punching bag.
"Don't you have some captain shit to do somewhere?" snaps McCoy, his irritation making his skin itch and feel too tight. He doesn't need someone hovering over him twenty-four seven. It makes it hard to forget. It also saddles Leonard with a healthy dose of guilt that Jim's putting his life on hold because Leonard's too weak to get his shit together in a reasonable manner.
"No," says Jim, broken and hallow, raising his head to look at the doctor. There are lots of things he could be doing, probably should be doing but sitting here with McCoy is the most important. Despite what a lot of Starfleet top brass thinks, Jim can learn from his mistakes. He put everything else above his friends before, all in the name of getting the Enterprise back on her feet, and he isn't in any rush to let that happen again.
"Pretty sure you got a ship to rebuild. You leave Scotty alone with it, that's tandem to letting the lunatics run the asylum."
Kirk rubs at his face. He's exhausted and completely drained, yet hasn't done anything much beyond breaking in the chair by McCoy's bedside. It's surprisingly easy to run things from his self appointed spot with his crew stepping up and going above and beyond to make sure the captain is free to ensure nothing else befalls the ship's doctor. "It's nothing that can't wait, Bones."
"Now it can wait," grumbles McCoy. It's an unkind thought, one that burns as it settles in his gut. It couldn't wait before when he wanted some attention, but now that he wants to be left alone, Leonard can't seem to shake Kirk.
Jim doesn't say anything, just sits there looking like a kicked puppy. Leonard sighs. "Guilt don't look good on ya kid." It makes Jim look young and vulnerable and almost human. Leonard needs his monsters to be complete evil; it's too easy to get lost in shades of grey. Plus if this isn't actually his Jim, then giving Kirk a soul will just hurt McCoy more when he eventually gets around to finishing what Spock started.
Jim wants to counter with being beaten and tortured within a millimeter of his life, doesn't look good on McCoy either, but he holds his tongue. Most of the things he says these days seems to irritate McCoy. It's a thin line to walk and Jim's doing a piss poor job of navigating it; too much pressure on the string could cause it to snap completely.
"We can't stay in Yorktown forever," retorts the doctor. It's like an itch and now that he's started to scratch he can't stop poking at Kirk.
"We can stay as long as it takes." They both know that it, in this case, isn't the Enterprise, but rather Leonard. Jim's offering to stay for Leonard's benefit, which on the surface seems like a genuine life line from a friend, but it's just too much pressure on Leonard. They both know where Jim's meant to be and it isn't coddling this country doctor. There's a part of Leonard that wants to punish them all and make everyone feel like their lives are a shadow of their former glory by demanding to stay and keep the crew at Yorktown as long as possible but he isn't sure he can stomach staying.
"I don't want to stay." He doesn't know if he'll be able to be on the Enterprise either, but at least gallivanting around the cosmos means he isn't in one spot; the one spot where Spock can just waltzed in and kidnapped him. It has to be harder to abduct someone if they're on the move, right? Space brings its own kind of death but it has to be better than being here. Anything has to be better than this purgatory.
"Okay, Bones," sighs Jim and it's laced with a silent plea to bear with him while he tries and make that happen. If McCoy wants back on the ship, then Jim will get Scotty to step up the rebuild. They'll all probably feel better when this whole thing is behind them.
Jim's been apologising a lot and McCoy can think of a thousand and one injuries he's endured that all cry out that Jim's the perpetrator. This darkened hole Leonard's trapped in is the result of Jim wanting the Enterprise. That smug smile he flashes every time Leonard looks at him, the one that shows off his perfect white teeth and boyish charm is just window dressing to the darkness waiting to escape Kirk. McCoy read the file. He knows what depravity is woven in Kirk's bones.
"Kill anyone today, Jim?" asks Leonard just to see if he can kill a little of that light that lurks around the edges of Jim's eyes. He spent days in a universe of murderers that all seem to take joy in the act; billions of people can't be wrong, so maybe Leonard should see what all the fuss is about. Besides, there's the possibility the question will catch Kirk off guard and a moment of honesty could crack that carefully sculpted mask he adorns.
Jim would describe himself as a pretty carefree, fun loving personality that can let most things roll right off of him, not that he doesn't take his responsibilities as captain seriously. He's always been able to sniff out a good time and good relations with the locals. Lately though, he finds smiling hurts his face. He can't even remember what it feels like to genuinely want to smile, despite the fact that one is permanently glued to his face the moment he steps foot in medical. There can only be one rain cloud in the room and Leonard's called dibs all over it. It's exhausting and seems to make him a bigger target for Leonard to kick, but he can't complain. Letting the strain show isn't going to do his friend any favors; that's what late nights in his apartment with case of beer are for.
As much as Leonard's question hurts like a knife through the heart, he can't let it show. There's no use picking a fight with someone who doesn't even mean what they're saying. "Wasn't planning on it, Bones," offers Jim, as smooth and level as he can keep his voice.
Leonard scoffs and rolls his eyes. Another day trapped with Jim while they both pretend to be something they're not. He's been itching to escape for days now but even if McCoy could make a run for it, he hasn't the foggiest idea where he'd go. The Enterprise was destroyed and Earth hasn't felt like home since his divorce. His temporarily assigned apartment at Yorktown has been violated in the worst way, that he can't imagine going back there and that leaves him with nowhere to go. Jocelyn took the planet in the divorce and now Spock's taken the universe.
With nowhere to go he has nothing to lose, so bating a psychopath doesn't seem all that destructive anymore. Worst case, he pushes his Jim away which would just be better for the kid in the long run; best case, he gets Kirk to finish what Spock wasn't dastardly enough to finish. They both know Jim's waiting for something Leonard knows isn't going to happen. There are no happy endings here so it's better to be cruel to be kind now, rather than drag this out for the long haul. "Just the usual terror and torture then, huh?"
Jim closes his eyes and counts backwards from ten. "That's not fair, Bones. I'm not him."
"Life ain't fair Jim. You'd think you'd figure that out by now." It's been drummed into Leonard's head pretty good now; his recent brush with unfairness leaving footnotes from the essay of cruelty carved into his bones.
This line of conversation is just a rocky path towards a dead end that exposes too many of Jim's own ghosts, never mind what's haunting the doctor. The last few days have been rough and it looks like today doesn't want to shape up any different. Jim wracks his brain for a safe topic to steer them towards, a task that seems simpler in intention than actuality. He settles for something that's sure to warm Leonard's heart. "I talked to Joanna."
The change in McCoy is instantaneous, like Jim threw a bucket of ice cold water on him. His passive indifference to Kirk's presence is replaced with wild animalistic desperation and viciousness.
"Jo will be fine. I promise. I'll gut anyone that dares to speak her name let alone lay a finger on her."
"You promised you wouldn't do that, that you'd take care of her!" All Leonard can hear is the pounding of his heart as it thunder in his ears. Kirk gave his word and like everything else in this universe it's a mirage of virtue. Apparently protecting Jo from anyone, doesn't include Jim himself; fine print in the contract of his promise.
It doesn't matter the universe, that's his little girl and he'll drag his broken body across shattered dilithium crystals to keep the likes of Kirk from harming a hair on her perfect head. Kirk's got him pinned to the bed before he can muster any kind of assault of his own, as pitiful an attempt as it would be in his condition. Despite his determination, he's just not strong enough yet to shake off Kirk, leaving only one avenue. "Please don't hurt her," he begs, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'll do anything you want, be anyone you want, just don't hurt Jo." If Kirk wants to pretend Leonard is his Bones than he'll do his damnedest to be that blood thirsty killer if it means his daughter is safe from harm.
Jim backs away like he's been burned. It's a hell of a thing to be accused of; that he would intentionally hurt a kid, let alone his best friend's daughter. "I would never," stammers Jim, because that's the god's honest truth. He thought he knew what a fucked up world McCoy has been sucked into, but listening to McCoy offer his soul up, to willingly become one of those butchers just to protect Jo from him, breaks the captain.
Jim keeps backing up until he hits the wall, like putting physical distance between himself and Leonard's desperate pleas and biting accusations will lessen their impact. The nurses come in, hypos at the ready with sedatives; the silent alarm monitoring McCoy's vitals having alerted them to his distress. Normally, Jim would be the one trying to comfort McCoy and smooth out his troubles before resorting to chemical warfare, but this time he's the undeniable cause of them. Maybe he always has been.
Jim slips out the door, silent and unnoticed, just like the coward he always feared he was. He's stood up to drunks, dictators, Romulans, the unknown, and a warp core, and held his ground, but what's back in that room has brought Jim to the end of his rope with nothing to hold on to. He can't shoot or punch his way out of this. The only weapon in his arsenal that's possibly any good is his stubbornness, and it's quite possible McCoy can out stubborn him.
He beats a hasty "tactical" retreat, or so he tells himself. Anything sounds better than running away. He's tried that maneuver before in his life too, and it usually ends with Jim unconscious on a bar room floor.
God he really needs Pike to pick him up off the ground right now and tell him it's going to be alright. He needs to get solid ground under him once more and alleviate the fear that he'll spend the rest of his life trying to convince McCoy that he's not the monster. The only other people than Pike who have ever saved Jim from drowning in the black of the universe are Spock and McCoy. McCoy's broken and he certainly doesn't need a Vulcan lecture right now. He could go for commiserating with his old pal Johnny Walker; he always has a bottle for emergencies and this is a total break glass in case of emergency situation. His CMO would frown on rigorous day drinking, but screw it. The man's otherwise occupied with his own demons and day is just an artificial construct on a space station anyways.
Uhura leans against the wall and waits for the apprehension crawling over her skin like a million hungry ants to die down. Her feet want to carry her down the corridor, out the door and back to the world. There is still time to act on her fear and cowardice; the nurse is still with McCoy and he hasn't seen her lurking in the hall yet. She could still slip away unseen without anyone the wiser.
She grits her teeth and holds her ground. It's only lunch with a friend. A simple act that she's performed a million times before. She even has the safety net of only having a designated amount of time before she has to return to shift; an excuse to flee if it becomes too much. It isn't like they've never shared a meal before or that she hasn't visited someone in medbay, but it breaks her heart to see Leonard in such a state. He's the one that puts them back together, makes them whole. What if they aren't up to the task of returning the favor?
They certainly dropped the ball the last few months and shamefully none of them had even been aware he'd been missing for five days. She shudders to think what might have happened if that discipline report hadn't caught Kirk's eye. Uhura shakes her head to try and dispel the image of McCoy pale and bleeding out in a world where those he trusts lived to abuse that trust. She had been selfish before, brushing off their lunch dates in favor or things that weren't even important enough that she can recall them now. Now she will prioritise better.
Nurse Chapel smiles as she steps out of McCoy's room. "You can go in now if you like but I have to warn you, he's a little grumpy today."
Uhura smiles back. "I'll keep that in mind."
Chapel looks back at the door with an air of melancholy and a hesitancy to leave. McCoy's more than just a boss, he's a calm steady presence in an emergency that reassures them they can weather any storm. Even when he is flappable and cantankerous there's an underlying feeling of protectiveness that's hard to ignore. The doctor refuses to lie down and die for any of his patients which makes seeing him so resigned and subjugated by the terror of his experience so heartbreaking. They're all prepared to fight for him just as hard as he's ever fought for any of them but she fears the battle is all but lost if Leonard has already raised the white flag.
Nyota can't see McCoy from her angle at the door but she can see the empty chair at his bedside. "Where's Captain Kirk?" The captain his been a permanent fixture in medbay since they got McCoy back so his sudden absence fills Uhura with dread.
Chapel purses her lips together and breaks eye contact with the Lieutenant. "He left," she says regretfully. "Doctor McCoy had become quite agitated earlier and when we stepped in, the Captain stepped out."
"When did he say he'd be back?"
"He didn't. We didn't even realize he had left until we calmed Doctor McCoy down and Captain Kirk was no longer in the room. He hasn't been on the floor since nor has he called for an update." There's no condemnation or worry over the captain's exit in her eyes, only sorrow.
"Alright," says Nyota. She forces her professional smile on her face. It's a game they all seem to play; fake cheery sentiment to hide the raggedy holes in themselves, everyone pretending to be alright until they can hide away in their own rooms and give into the despair and anguish at what has been done to their friend. Even worse than that, is the moment of relief, that by the grace of divine mercy, what could have so easily been anyone of them, was not. They're all broken porcelain figures, carefully glued back together yet one bump away from falling into a million sharp jagged pieces.
A journey of a thousand miles starting with one step, Uhura takes hers by walking into Leonard's room.
McCoy's head lulls away from the window with as much effort and enthusiasm as he's put into anything else lately. It's not Kirk, returned to pester him with good intentions or perhaps lull him into a false sense of security. It's not even a member of the medical staff, that he's admittedly making their jobs more difficult. If he could feel remorse, he's feel it for them, but all he has is terror or numbness these days. "What are you doing here?" he snaps, because he has no energy for games or the bullshit his head creates.
"It's Thursday," says Uhura sweetly. "We have lunch on Thursdays."
Spock presses the doorbell on the control pad and waits for his captain's summons. He doesn't have to wait long for a brittle, "come," echoes through the door. The door slides open and Spock hesitates for a moment before stepping inside. The apartment is dark, covered in shadows from the simulated dusk that heralds Yorktown night.
Jim's sitting on the floor in front of his couch, knees pulled tight to his chest and a bottle clutched tightly in his hand. He's long past the formalities of glassware or pretending that he's on the floor by intention. He rubs at his eyes, hoping to remove all traces of the pity party he'd been throwing but while the tears will wipe away, only a good night sleep will remove the red puffiness of crying.
"You don't got a beard," slurs Kirk as he looks the intruder of his solitude up and down. There's a flicker of disappointment that it's not Spock from the other universe come back to finish him off. It would be fitting after all; Jim is the architect of all their problems. All the chess pieces either fall for him or to get to him. McCoy gave him friendship when he desperately needed a good friend and Jim made him a target.
"Indeed. Lights to forty-five percent," commands Spock before moving over to help Jim off the floor and onto the couch. While he doesn't understand this human need for self punishment as a means to put off problems, he's unsurprised to find Kirk in what is clearly an inebriated state. Nyota's recounting of the afternoon suggested as much.
Jim's loath to release the bottle, but allows it to slip from his fingers at Spock's behest. He fights the urge to squirm and fidget at the thought of an impending reprimand while Spock's in the kitchen exchanging the bottle for coffee. A warm cup is pressed firmly into his hands, the warmth chasing away some of the discomfort. He doesn't deserve to be taken care of right now, least of all by Spock. "Sorry about... your face." It isn't a graceful apology or even adequate, but it's a start. Just another mistake he'll spend the rest of his life trying to make up for because like McCoy, Spock deserves no less.
"The circumstances were understandable, therefore there is no need to apologise. You are, however, forgiven. I believe that is the proper response in this human custom?"
A small smile curves Jim's lips. "Yeah, that's how it goes, Spock," he says wistfully, as though things could be that simple. A thick weighted silence settles over them, neither with the answers to make things as they were. They sit together on the couch forcing time to slow down and stand still while they take a moment's respite. "I don't think I can go back in there, Spock," confesses Jim, so quietly Spock's Vulcan hearing almost misses it.
Spock sits there pensively. The situation is wrought with messy and unpredictable emotions he has spent his whole life trying to repress and yet seeing the fear in McCoy's eyes when he stepped into the room and know some incarnation of him is responsible for it, has left him haunted. He has no easy solutions for this problem no matter how many times he runs the equation. "I believe you will find the strength. It is our duty to be there for the doctor."
"That's easy to say when he won't let you in the room. Bones never gives up on me and all I want to do today is run. How fucked up is that? The guy brings me back from the dead and I'm having a hard time dealing with what surviving that hell has done to him."
"It' is not easy to see doctor McCoy in a state. I too, am finding it difficult to come to terms with my counterpart's actions in this circumstance." There are images and emotions tumbling around in Spock's mind that are not his own, yet troubling beyond the fact that they are not his. He's been struggling to make sense of them since he accidently touched Leonard. Meditation hasn't even allowed him to crack the code yet.
Jim aches at just how deep this wound is for them. He's not so self-absorbed that he hasn't noticed the rest of the crew struggling but to hear Spock admit it, really brings home the intensity of the ripples from this wave. The alcohol, despite its mass consumption, isn't doing its job to numb Jim. If anything, he feels everything more. "So what are we going to do?"
"The same as we always do; handle the problem one at a time. Tomorrow we make sure Doctor McCoy receives the surgery on his hand."
Jim has very little idea what they're talking about. They could be using all their fancy medical terms to discuss putting a centurion fire fish's head on a sparrow for all he knows. He lost the particulars of the conversation early on, but the important part is that they're going to try and fix Leonard's hand; that much he can follow. He forces himself to pay attention anyways because one of them should and Leonard is giving all the signals that he's not really listening all that intently. What matters is M'Benga understands and probably Leonard when he is paying attention and more importantly Dr Tri'youl can put what she's talking about into action. All Jim needs is the end result. Fixing McCoy's hand might be the first step to making Leonard whole.
He'll go with M'Benga's recommendation and possibly McCoy's objection if there is one. The decision is Leonard's but ultimately Jim has the final say as Leonard's medical proxy since there's ample proof that McCoy might not be of sound mind given the circumstances, should Leonard make a decision that's not in his best interest. Jim desperately hopes McCoy makes the right decision so Jim doesn't have to overrule him, which promises to be all kind of messy should it happen. Mostly he just hopes no one frames this procedure in the form of a question so there is no decision to make.
"You'll be able to watch the whole thing as we go, as I'm sure you'll be curious enough to have me walk you through it as we..."
"No," says McCoy, eyes fixated on the scuff mark on the wall he's been staring at since Dr Tri'youl walked into the room. Her overly sunny disposition rubbed him the wrong way from the get go and her constantly poking and prodding his damaged hand just makes him feel like a choice cut of meat ready to be consumed.
"No, what?" she asks, taken aback. It's the first actual word he's said all day instead of the non committal grunts he's blessed them with so far.
"No I don't want to be awake for it," says with biting authority.
"It's not something we need to put the patient under for. In fact, it would go a lot smoother if you were awake."
"God damn it, I said no!" Leonard punctuates his point by pushing his untouched breakfast tray off his table. The contents go crashing to the floor. He had an up close view the first time his hand was smashed and sliced into, he doesn't need to see it again, ever. His stomach rolls at the prospect of seeing blood and bone and muscle so close to a scalpel.
"Bones," huffs Jim, like he's scolding a child as he bends over to pick up as much of McCoy's mess as possible.
"But," starts Dr Tri'youl, recovering from the shock of Leonard's outburst.
McCoy just crosses his arms across his chest and sulks like the child Jim scolded.
"He clearly doesn't want to be awake for it," says Jim, making eye contact with Leonard as he puts the tray back on the table. Apparently the Winona Kirk look of exasperated disappointment is genetic, because Jim's face makes it of its own volition. If eight year old Jim could see himself now, he'd die of disbelief that that look could ever form on his face. Jim's supposed to be the petulant child not Leonard. Jim's too far out of his depth here, and there doesn't seem to be a lifeguard on duty.
"But..."
"Is it strictly necessary? I mean, can you do it with him out?" asks Jim, because this isn't a battle he wants to fight McCoy on; especially when he can see where Leonard's hang-ups might be on the subject.
"I suppose we could, " starts Dr Dr Tri'youl.
"We can," assures Dr M'Benga, jumping in hopes of defuse things slightly.
"Great!" says Jim, forcing an overly cheerful smile on his face. "Now when all's said and done, what are we looking at in terms of recovery?"
"There will be physical therapy after everything is healed. We can manage that with our medical staff. Probably three months after we start, Leonard will be able to do most things with his left hand. Five months for finer, more delicate things," reports M'Benga. While he would never rush a patient's recovery, and he won't push Leonard's, there's the underlying question that lingers in regards to what happens when the Enterprise is rebuilt and ready to continue her mission. If there's something McCoy requires that Enterprise cannot provide or any chance that Leonard cannot serve then his place in the crew compliment will be in jeopardy. Given the nature of their mission, it won't be a matter of coming back for the doctor when he is ready. A game plan needs to be in place before the ship is ready to depart, whatever that may be.
"Surgery?" asks Jim hopefully. It is the elephant in the room, the million credit question and the catalyst for this specialized surgery. Leonard could absolutely live a normal life with his hand as it is now but if he wants to continue to be in Starfleet and more importantly practice medicine in the capacity he did before being kidnapped than they need to restore his hand to one hundred percent.
M'Benga looks away.
"Actually," Dr Tri'youl jumps in, "I've been doing some things with Deltarian eel enzymes that look promising. Now keep in mind it's still experimental, but with your permission Leonard, I'd like to try it. I think it can get us close to ninety-five percent of your normal dexterity. The process will be longer but I think it's the best chance."
"That sounds promising," Jim says. "What do you think Bones?"
What does Leonard think? Everyone is so busy talking about him like he's not in the room, he's gotten a pretty good picture of what his future will look like. He's been cut apart for other people's pleasure, revenge and now experiment and he's endured it all because other people want or need it. Mostly he's tired of being a mere play thing for people. "Do whatever you want. Everyone else has already."
"Leonard, this surgery is promising but it you have an objection to it we can postpone it," tries M'Benga. "I do highly recommend you go through with it though, both as your physician and your friend."
McCoy's tempted to flip them off, with his bad hand, just for added spite but it's still pretty bandaged to be really effective at getting his point across and oh yeah, the fact that Sulu took great pleasure in breaking his middle finger repeatedly for kicks that it's probably in worse shape than the finger he actually tried to cut off. He settles for rolling his eyes and glaring instead.
He's depressed, with serious notes of PSTD and has a decent chance at being declared insane but he's not stupid. There's no way he can legal ability to officially make decisions right now so that falls into Kirk's purview as his medical proxy. At best, Leonard could kick up a fuss so bad a lawyer is brought in to remove that power from Kirk but someone else would have to be appointed. His only blood is his daughter, who is too young for the task and his mother, who is too old to have that kind of stress put on her. That means possibly a lawyer who will go with these people's recommendation anyways or god help him his ex-wife could receive the task based on the fact that she was his previous medical proxy. Leonard will probably end up an organ donor before he's actually dead if Jocelyn gets her claws on him right now.
Leonard chokes down a laugh as it occurs to him that Kirk and Jocelyn would be perfect for one another. Both were close to him, people he would die for, and both would gladly hold his still beating heart in their hands. Or even Jocelyn and Spock. Those two both frustrate him on a level no one else has and seem to take diverse pleasure in his pain and suffering. It's a match made in heaven and Leonard can be the wedding feast.
Everyone gives Leonard a questioning look, but he can't be bothered to share the joke or try and explain the dark turn his humor has taken of late. "So we're going to do this?" asks Jim.
Leonard plasters on a fake smile for everyone. It's a broken thing, reminiscent of an evil clown on a murder spree. "Whatever you think is best, Jim."
"We can get started now," offers M'Benga leading the charge out of the room to begin prep.
There's an energy in the room that wasn't there before. All the vultures that have been circling Leonard have been satisfied by his acquiescence. They all leave the room taking their clouds of positivity with them. A nurse comes in to start the prep work of removing the bandages from McCoy's hand and getting him ready for surgery.
Leonard tries to push down the sick feeling slithering and turning in his gut like a snake. He doesn't even have good memories of sickbay anymore, a place that was practically his home on Enterprise. His last brushes with sickbay are haunting. It's here that he was forced to standby helplessly and watch Ensign Marley die of a completely treatable allergic reaction and Lieutenant Kyle receive a phaser blast to the chest instead of treatment. It's here that Spock had Nurse Chapel insert his agonizer.
Pain flares in his chest under the bright new pink skin above where his agonizer was. He clenches his eyes tightly closed and wills it to pass. M'Benga insists he removed the device but honestly, Leonard has no proof of that and it feels like it's still there. He's going to end up in an operating room at the mercy of who knows and there's nothing he can do to stop it; he's out of fight. He's a lamb to the slaughter.
"It's not going to work you know," says Jim coming back into the room.
Leonard's prepared to ask what, but Jim continues as he moves to stand behind the nurse still focused on McCoy's hand. "They can pull out whatever crazy experimental thing they want but we both know you'll never be qualified to perform surgery again."
Leonard does know it, but to hear it out loud stings. There's nothing to hide behind after the surgery; they'll have their answer and the stark reality will be he has no value as the CMO of a starship. The best he can hope for is medical research or teaching at the academy and even that's dependant on his psych evaluations.
"What does a washed up, mentally unbalanced doctor do when they get drummed out of Starfleet?" asks Jim with an all too familiar smug and sarcastic edge. "Does he go back home to Earth and play daddy to a kid he never sees? Will you go crawling back to Jocelyn and beg for any scraps of Joanna she might be willing to part with?"
Each question feels like another blow far more painful than a knife to the chest. The nurse is oblivious to Leonard's discomfort but Jim is not. He's practically feeding on Leonard's deep seeded fears.
"I imagine not, she won't have you. No family, no friends and no medical career. What did you survive all that for?" poses Jim, like he can't possibly fathom the answer.
Leonard's throat goes dry. Jim's always had a way of seeing the future. It's mostly fuelled by his cockiness but Jim's been sure about things other's thought impossible. He was right about being done with Starfleet Academy in three years and about making captain long before anyone thought he'd see command of anything. Jim's most certainly right about this because even Leonard can see it.
The gentle hiss of a hypo spray reminds McCoy that the nurse is still in the room. He can feel the anesthetic start to pull him under before he even has to ask what she just injected him with. His eyelids are growing heavy and the room is starting to fade as M'Benga starts issuing order to move Leonard to surgery. As they roll through the door, Jim's magically already outside waiting for McCoy to pass like he hadn't been in the room a second before.
"I'll be right here when you get out," says Jim, radiating positivity and reassurance, as the anaesthesia takes effect.
