There are probably few things stranger than being the first person to set foot on a brand new starship knowing that in a few days that ship will sail into space. McCoy can't help but shudder. He hates thinking of that. All these years haven't reconciled him with the idea of flying. Mostly the opposite. Next to him, he feels Jim shudder before his shoulders straighten. The captain exhales and suddenly Jim looks more alive than he has since they fell into Kral's trap. In fact, McCoy hasn't seen such excitement in Jim's eyes at the thought of flying since Cykax.
Eight months. Eight months of watching Jim retreating further from them. Cykax. Uhura, Spock, and the others betray Jim's trust in their quest for justice. The ongoing Kodos trial. The Enterprise's destruction. Kral. Old Spock's death. Each blow had been terrible for Jim. More than once, McCoy feared he wouldn't come through. What he fears most is the incoming verdict. It may be the one blow Jim won't get up from.
While McCoy worries like the mother hen he is, Jim takes a few steps on the bridge. He touches the console and the captain's chair like he can't believe he's finally here. His lips move silently. Jim must be telling the new ship he loves her or something like that. McCoy would roll out his eyes, but Jim smiles. He feels like he can finally breathe for the first time in months. Jim's smile is genuine, for the first time in months. McCoy will never understand what Jim feels for the Enterprise, but he's grateful for that love if it helps Jim heal.
"It's her, Bones. It's the Enterprise."
"Well, it's technically a completely different ship that doesn't have a single pond of metal in common with this one, but if you say so, I'll take your word for it. To me, it's just a flying saucepan with way too thin walls."
"Be careful what you say. Her ears are still sensitive."
"Like a wee lass", Scotty adds with a smile.
His voice echoes across the deserted bridge. Jim, Scotty, and McCoy are the only living beings on board for now. It's strange—abnormal, even. McCoy didn't think it would ever come to this, but he misses the goblin, Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura. Their four crewmates weren't invited to the unofficial inauguration, and they didn't show up. They wouldn't be welcome. Jim's not there yet.
McCoy can't help but feel guilty about it. He shares his responsibilities on that front. Damn it, he should have seen the signs. He've know Jim for years. He should have recognized the signs of deep trauma in Jim's relationship with food, family, and authority. No one can be that ready to charm and fight the entire universe in the same breath without hiding secret injuries. McCoy's a good doctor, a great one even. But he's also Jim's friend, and he had refused to see the signs. Like everyone who spends more than a few hours with Jim Kirk, he fell for his act. If Jim doesn't want you to realize something's wrong, it's hard not to believe him. People think that Jim only uses his charm to put people in bed or to confuse people in a diplomatic setting to lead them to do what he wants. Well, people are wrong. Jim uses his charm on everyone and all the time until they forget what questions they wanted to ask. Jim doesn't want anyone's help and is a master of diverting attention. McCoy fell for it like everyone else, even when he should have made the connection between Jim's eating disorders and Tarsus IV. It's so obvious now that he knows the truth. So many commemoration days when Jim disappeared, and it tracks with his self-destructive and aggressive behavior around commemoration's day. Jim hid it well, but McCoy should have seen through him. He's so angry with himself.
Jim's still pacing the bridge, his eyes fixed on the main screen. He's probably seeing stars and adventure, whereas McCoy sees death and trouble. Jim doesn't sit on the command chair, and won't do so before the takeoff procedure. An old Starfleet superstition, among others. Stupid, maybe, but go say so to a starship captain. Jim still leans on the chair, making it slowly turn like he always liked to, but when the chair faces what will be Spock's station, he stops and winces.
Spock. His betrayal hurts Jim the most, and it makes McCoy so angry. He failed to recognize Jim's old trauma, but he should have seen it in Spock and the others, especially after Jim confessed to him about Tarsus. He knew they heard his story on Cykax. McCoy should have put a stop to what they were planning. He didn't. He refused to see it, once more. The worst thing is that Mccoy understands what they did. Knowing what he knows now, he feels an intense satisfaction in seeing Kodos being judged for his crimes. He'd have sheer on that if only they had worked with Jim and not against his will. They're his friends too. It's heartbreaking to have to come between Jim and his teammates. Not that McCoy would not make any other choice, of course. He's Jim's friend before he's theirs. Besides, as the chief medical officer, it's his duty to keep his captain's head above water. Until Jim is ready to give them back his full trust, McCoy will glare and yell and force them to give Jim the distance he needs.
Because Jim is getting better, but it's different from saying Jim is alright, because he's not, far from it.
At least, the Edison case helped. Fighting together to free themselves of the nebula has helped. Still, there's much to be done to mend the broken bridges between Jim and his crewmates. In front of the Admiralty and danger, they presented a united front. Professionally, they can work together, and work as well as ever. But the old chemistry disappears the moment they leave the professional setting. Even on his birthday, Jim had kept his distance, even from Spock. The moment they shared looking at the new Enterprise being assembled before their eyes had quickly evaporated. McCoy sees the lingering tension in his friend's eyes. He hates it.
Sometimes, he wants nothing more than to grab the first blunt object and beat the whole bunch of them until everything is back to normal. It would be therapeutic. Maybe not for them, but for him. Scotty's more in favor of locking them up with a bottle of scotch until they're talking. McCoy would agree, but it would be mutiny and he's not sure Jim and Spock wouldn't try to kill each other. Again. He's drawn up enough death certificates for a lifetime since the beginning of this damned mission.
"Everything seems ready to go here, Captain. They did a good job."
"Yes, Scotty. A great job even."
"It's not quite our bridge, but... It's still our silver lady, right?"
Jim sighs. In McCoy's eyes, everything seems to be just what it was, but he doesn't share their love for the Enterprise. Any difference would be akin to tragedy for them, an attack on their silver lady's honor. Better not to ask if they found proof of such a crime. They fought for their Enterprise to be recreated as true as possible, barely conceding the need to improve the computers and engineering. McCoy, on the other hand, had taken every new shiny toy the Admiralty proposed to him. When the crew's lives are at stake, there is no place for sentimentality.
"She'll do what's expected of her, and more," Jim finally admits. "You can tell she's strong."
"That's for sure. How about we go see what she's got inside?"
"Energy and passion to spare, for sure. But yes, we should take a closer look."
Jim takes a few steps toward the elevator before turning to McCoy. Out of habit, he rolls his eyes and grumbles. Their antics don't fool him, these two are exaggerating their anthropomorphization of the ship just to annoy him. If Spock were here, he would roll his eyes so hard that his retina would detach. Metaphorically, at least, since the infuriating Vulcan is generally too stiff to show his annoyance.
"Go play with your engines. I'll see what I have at my disposal to torture the crew and especially its captain in the infirmary."
He shushes them toward the elevator. Once the door closes with a loud rustle, McCoy collapses into the nearest chair, before getting up again immediately. Superstitions are superstitions, but he's been on a spaceship too long not to believe in them a little. The chair will be Uhura's. He has no right to sit there before her.
"Damn it, Jim," he mutters.
His words echo in the empty room, cutting off any desire to linger there. McCoy calls back the elevator. Time to go to the infirmary. He has work to do. The crew will board the ship in less than forty-eight hours. The first stupid injury should happen in the following two hours. McCoy's job is to make sure everything's right where it's supposed to be in the infirmary before that. No time to think about Jim.
He still worries, of course. McCoy's not only his friend, he's also his doctor, and as such, he has a duty. The friend would offer a listening ear and a glass of whiskey. The doctor must decide if all this makes Captain Kirk unfit to lead them. Too many decisions to make, too many choices, and not enough time to think about them. McCoy hates the idea of telling Jim he's not sure he should go back to his duties. It would kill Jim to be kept from the Enterprise right now.
Unfortunately, the new Enterprise is ready to depart. McCoy forces to recognize the medbay's operational. He signs the report saying so. Nothing left to do for him, except beat himself up over and over again about Jim. Truth is, McCoy feels as guilty and angry as the others do. Jim needs someone on his side, but McCoy had to admit he would have been sorely tempted to join Uhura and the others in their witch hunt. He can only hope he would have stopped them in time, but it isn't important right now. What matters is how to heal their crew. McCoy isn't sure where to begin.
He jumps when the doors open to let Jim inside. His friend's step is lighter, his posture more relaxed, but McCoy can't help but wonder if this is real or another posture Jim's adopting to pretend everything's fine.
"I left Scotty in the engine room. He was whispering love songs to his engines."
"Nothing new then. Aren't you afraid of what he might do to your ship?"
"I told him I'd get a new chief engineer if he's hurting her."
"Knowing you, you'll be the first to do that and he'll be the one threatening to kill you."
McCoy stops himself from saying Jim will probably try to kill himself in the line of duty soon, but barely.
"I know she's strong enough to do what we'll ask from her. She's all brand new, after all."
"All brand new, but not the same."
Jim nods. He hates to remember the first Enterprise lies in the middle of the nebula. He's the kind of captain who thinks it's normal to go down with his ship. McCoy's still surprised he didn't try that. But for once, Jim smiles rather than scowl at the reminders and pulls a bottle from behind his back.
"A brand new ship for a brand new adventure. Let's christen her properly!"
It's a historic moment, they've got a vintage bottle, and in McCoy's book, enough to forget about the rules. Besides, their late conversations in the offices are what McCoy misses the most of their everyday life on the Enterprise.
"I think my office's over there. Do you have glasses?"
Jim's smiles widen. He leans over to retrieve two glasses from behind the door, probably taken from the newly equipped mess. McCoy does not know how and when he brought the bottle on board and does not ask. He would have to explain how he and Scotty occasionally smuggle alcohol on the Enterprise and that is a discussion that no man wants to have with his captain, even when he's also a friend.
Jim's choice of a bottle is divine. They savor the first sips in silence, trying not to remember the last glass they share on board. It is a strange moment, a familiar scene in an unfamiliar place they know by heart. It's hard not to think about all those who will not come back in two days. A toast is in order. McCoy raises his glass when he sees Jim won't do it.
"To new beginnings. To good fortune and inevitable misfortunes, may the first outnumber the last. To new beginnings, new friendships, and new horizons."
"To second and umpteenth times," Jim concludes before solemnly emptying his glass. "A beautiful speech, Bones. Can I borrow it for the launch? It's better than what I have."
"And what do you have?"
"A blank page."
Jim sights and puts his glass down, staring at the white wall like he could melt it with his eyes to see the stars outside.
"I... I just can't find the words. I try, but there's an anger inside my guts that I haven't felt in years, not since Pike pushed me towards Starfleet all these years ago and I can't find the words."
"No wonder. He gave you the goal to surpass your father. You did that, again and again. Now you need to redefine yourself, not to compare to his shadow."
"That's what I've always done, isn't it? Compare myself to my father, to Pike, to the Old Spock's Jim Kirk. All I wanted what to make them proud of me. Pike and him, I mean. My own Oedipus complex, minus Jocasta, fortunately."
"I'm a doctor, not a psychoanalyst. But I have a whole psychology department coming on board the day after tomorrow. They would be happy to discuss that sentence with you."
Jim mimes a horrified shudder and pours himself another finger of whiskey.
"I told Edison that we had to change, or we were doomed to relive the same battles," he whispers, swirling his glass between his fingers.
The change of subject doesn't surprise McCoy. It's the same conversation, but Jim always likes to abruptly change his angle when the subject touches him so personally.
"A good way to look at it. The guy couldn't live in a world at peace and would have destroyed ours to feel satisfied. I hate that kind of man."
"I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Nero. Khan. Edison. Our greatest enemies seem to always be people who can't stand peace and forgiveness, and who refuse to accept their war is over. They may have other reasons besides that, but it's always the heart of their being."
McCoy blinks. He never thought about it like that. Once it's over, he prefers not to think about men like that too much. They disgust him and he had his hands full trying to help their victims. He prefers to be angry about things he can change, like a broken leg or an unknown virus.
"Maybe," he replies noncommittally. "What's your point?"
Jim stops staring at the bottom of his glass and finally looks him in the eyes.
"Am I like them? Am I also incapable of stopping living in the past and turning the page?"
McCoy opens his mouth to deny it and stops. For once, Jim's ready to talk and McCoy's the one who doesn't know what to do. He needs to answer, and quickly, before Jim shuts down and leaves. He desperately searches for his words.
"I don't know Jim. I don't think so. You can project yourself into a peaceful future. You don't force people to go through what you lived, and... Damn it, every day you become more and more idealist. You're a dreamer, Jim, not a killer. The Starfleet's ideals? For you, they're not just ideals, they're a standard everyone should try to achieve. You believe in the best of humanity even when you've seen the worst of it. Others would give up, commit suicide, go crazy, and use that as justification for their own crimes. But not you. Not. You. You don't live in the past, but there are pages you can't really turn. A past like that sticks to you. How could it not? I would even say that you shouldn't try to. Denying it isn't healthy. I think it's good you're talking about it with more people than other survivors. So, keep doing that, I guess. Just because people know about the horrors that happened to you doesn't mean it should stop you from moving forward."
"Thanks, Bones. It's... Thanks."
Jim's hand shaking. McCoys looks at him for signs of a breakdown. He can see how tense Jim is, but some of the tension in his eyes's gone, replaced by something that could be a newfound serenity. McCoy's so relieved he could cry. An impromptu speech isn't enough to repair a life of suffering and betrayal, but now he believes Jim can handle it, that he can take command of the Enterprise. They can settle the rest, including Tarsus, Kodos, Spock, Uhura, in their own time. Or not. It may settle tomorrow or never, but Jim will get back up and that's all that matters.
Jim puts his still-full glass back on the table and stands. McCoy doesn't. He has another glass to empty to celebrate, but he'll do that alone.
"Will you be okay with your speech?"
"If I can't find the inspiration, can I steal yours?"
"A speech is just a speech. You can quote my thesis presentation for all I care. We're crazy to leave anyway, and you most of us all. What did Starfleet have in mind?"
Jim laughs and leaves.
Two days later, Jim stands proudly in front of the entire crew in the giant hangar that houses the Enterprise ready for departure. Four hundred people or so in the same place make an impressive audience. Only a quarter of them were from the old crew. Starfleet did the right thing by not sending any representatives. They would have loved to, but the captain fought them on that. The Federation and Starfleet have exploited them enough for publicity. A camera records his speech, but only for the archives.
The last time Jim had to speak in front of the entire crew was after Nero. Then, his calm and professionalism were just enough bravado to disguise his uncertainties. This time, it's not a posture. McCoy almost has trouble believing he's the same person who was so unsure of himself yesterday. He's impressed.
Standing next to him in parade uniform, Scotty leans toward him to whisper in his ear.
"It's good to see the captain being himself again. I must admit that I was a little worried about him."
"Me too, man. Have you talked to him?"
"Last night, yes."
"Apparently it helped."
Scotty shrugs, looking unconcerned.
"I mostly talked about my engines, and he was nice enough to listen. You know me. Outside my engine room, I'm rarely the right man for the job. But none of them have been these recent times, yes? We two haven't been, and our other friends on the other side of the stage even less so."
McCoy wants to protest, but Scotty stops him.
"I know, I know. The two situations aren't comparable. But since we found out, we've all been treating the captain like he's made of glass, and I'm thinking that's the last thing he needs. He's strong, and if he was going to crack under pressure, it would have happened a long time ago, right?"
McCoy would gladly slap himself. He's right. Unlike Chekov and the others, Jim had already been through an even worse ordeal than Cykax once. That trauma only awakened the first one, and he had already learned to deal with that in the past. A few years ago, Jim wouldn't have supported relieving Tarsus or his friends' betrayal, but he has grown since Nero. He doesn't need help or support, just for people to acknowledge he's more than his traumas or his father's legacy, that he's his own man accountable only for his actions.
On the podium, Jim clears his throat and McCoy turns to Scotty.
"We'll have to talk about that one day," he whispers.
The chief engineer nods, and they both turn their attention to Jim. The captain vaguely consults some notes, then raises his head and looks gravely at the crowd.
"I'll try not to make this too long. Let's not recall why we're here. These memories are still too painful for many of us. The departed are still with us, but today we must first and foremost welcome those who are joining us and rejoice together in the opportunity that is offered to us.
"I'll confess this speech was incredibly difficult to write. Fortunately, our venerable practitioner, the good Doctor McCoy, told me I could use his words if I couldn't find the right ones for this speech. His words were beautiful, but since he concluded by saying Starfleet's command was crazy for renaming this ship like the previous one and that he should suspend us all for being crazy enough to sign again, I don't know if I should quote him. In fact, it was probably a mistake, computer, delete that last sentence. I don't want Starfleet to listen to this speech and realize that he's right. Not being on a ship would drive me crazy, and there are some people here who would need to be locked up with me if we were stuck on the ground.
Several people in the crowd started laughing.
"Yes, laugh," Jim smiles. "That's what we are, Andorians, Vulcans, Humans... Mad. Mad about mystery, mad about discovery. That madness, that wish to learn and understand, this brings us together here, beyond our differences. This is what Starfleet and the Federation are all about. We're all going to set foot together for the first time in an unexplored corner of space, reaching out to representatives of unknown species and expanding our knowledge. That is important. Our reason for being on board this ship and our reason for being here in the long run. We're mechanics, pilots, translators, doctors, ethnologists, geologists or diplomats. We've grown up on ten, thirty, fifty, different planets and our traditions sometimes seem irreconcilable. Some here have shared the worst trials, and some have never known the fear of losing a comrade. Some are close to retirement, others are barely out of the academy. We have nothing in common except this desire to brush the stars. It may not be much, but it will be enough to make us a crew that Starfleet and the Federation can be proud of. Let's go prove it to the galaxy. I think our new home is ready to welcome us."
A thunder of applause and shouts of joy answer him. Jim turns to his officers and smiles. They all smile back. Their shared joy temporarily overshadows the tension that reigns between them. They don't board the Enterprise arm in arm, but only out of respect for protocol and the cameras which are recording what the Federation's citizens want to see: the greatest crew in Starfleet history re-embarking on their mission of discovery. Jim smiles for the cameras as he leaves the hangar. The rest of the team rushes behind him with the same smiles on their faces, even if Spock keeps his face void of all emotion.
Once out of sight of the cameras, they all relax slightly and disperse into the Enterprise hangar, to greet and guide the rest of the crew toward their stations. McCoys heads toward the medical team. There are still many things to do. He doesn't think about Jim and the others until it's time for him to join the bridge to witness the departure.
He's not the only one who's been delayed until the last minute by his other duties. Spock enters the elevator with him. They've barely seen each other during their months of forced immobilization. McCoy is pretty sure the Vulcan is avoiding him.
"Is the science department set up properly?" he asks, staring at the wall.
"It is adequate for our needs."
"Funny to see you here."
Spock raises a questioning eyebrow that makes McCoy want to scream. Getting the truth out of a Vulcan's nose is an ordeal. He would have more success with a jackhammer.
"I do not see why. We were both invited to witness the Enterprise's first fly."
"I mean here, on board. If I remember correctly, the last time we spoke about the future, you talked about going to New Vulcan to make lots of little Vulcan babies."
Spock flinches. One of his hands twinge. McCoy doesn't think he's ever been so close to getting hit by an angry Vulcan. The memory of Jim's face after meeting those fists convinces him to keep quiet until the doors of the elevator open.
McCoy's the first to recognize he's impermeable to the magic of space, unlike the bunch of lunatics he lives with. He still feels the entire room vibrating with anticipation and finds himself breathless. On his chair, Jim turns to give them the brightest smile you could imagine. Beside him, McCoy feels Spock freeze just for a second. When he goes to his post, his step is less serene he would like to make people believe. McCoy himself pulls over to the side. He's invited to see the launch, but he doesn't want to be a bother in the last moments of frenzy before the departure. He takes the time to enjoy seeing them all back together, all tension dissipated in this moment of communion. Scotty's the only absent, probably too busy getting his hands dirty in his motors like the child he is. McCoy is surrounded by children, and yes, Spock's one of them.
Soon, everything calms down. Jim's clear voice resonates in an almost religious silence as he gives the last orders. The engines roar and, slowly, the Enterprise leaves the star base hanger. They're all holding their breath until finally they extract themselves from the tunnels and find themselves alone, facing the immensity of space. No one applauds, but Chekov's delighted laugh spreads through the bridge.
"Heading toward the nebula, Mr. Sulu," Jim breathes, "but not too fast. I'd like to enjoy the trip this time."
It's words like those that end up in the annals of space exploration history, and McCoy rolls his eyes. Uhura clicks her tongue in mock exasperation, but her eyes are laughing as they dart from the screen to Jim, before she turns away, lost in thoughts. Spock, of course, keeps his eyes fixed on his console all along.
Messages pour in from every corner of the ship, relayed by Uhura. Everything's working perfectly. No surprises, no unexpected malfunctions, and no accidents, and McCoy is almost relaxing. His services will be needed soon enough, but probably not today.
"Good job everyone," Jim says to the speaker. "We are currently heading towards the nebula at reduced speed and will enter it in seven hours. Take advantage of the delay to familiarize yourself with the ship if you're not. The mission that awaits us is unprecedented and will demand a lot of us. I trust you to have the ship well in hand and not to scratch it on the first day."
Spock raises a doubtful eyebrow and speaks as soon as Jim has closed the communication.
"I fear it is too late, Captain. I noted in the elevator the presence of a scratch that was not there yesterday."
"Really?"
"Yes, Captain. Oddly enough, it bears a certain similarity to a mark present on the Enterprise's elevator during the last twenty-one months of our mission."
McCoy remembers that mark clearly. Sulu's sword did that. He was defending the captain when an alien crew tried to take possession of the Enterprise, rendering all their electronic weapons inoperable. It had become so familiar that he hadn't realized it was here, but nothing escaped Spock.
"Only a certain similarity?" Jim asks seriously.
"The mark is twenty-seven millimeters to the left from where it was," Spock answers, raising his eyebrow another notch.
Sulu, Jim, and the other survivors of the first Enterprise all smile. McCoy could see things going back to what they were.
"Well, I'd better inform our old crewmates that it would be inappropriate to recreate familiar elements on a brand new ship."
"That would be preferable."
"I'll do it myself," Jim continues. "Sulu, you have the helm. I'll make sure all departments are operational."
They are, of course, but Jim's impatient to make this new ship his. Sulu agrees, his eyes on the screens. Spock looks like he wants to go with Jim, but stays right where he is. He looks at Jim now, observing him as if trying to uncover all his secrets. McCoy's familiar with that look, he's got it stuck on his face for years but it's been a long time since he's seen Spock look at Jim with such intensity even if after Cykax there's not much left for them to find out about Jim.
"Bones?"
Jim's voice pulls him out of his thoughts. McCoy follows him into the elevator. Nothing more for him to do on the bridge, except watch the nebula getting closer. He might as well familiarize himself with his staff and new crewmates' medical files.
"Nice speech," he says when the doors close.
"Thanks. After we talked... I don't know, it was strangely easy to write. Damn, it's good to be back!"
Obviously. Jim looks in better shape than he did during all those months waiting for the ship to be rebuilt. McCoy will never really understand how one can feel so alive when just a few meters away from the void of interstellar space, but he's happy for Jim.
"This is where you belong," he simply remarks.
Jim frowns and looks away.
"I almost didn't come back," he admits. "Before this story about Altamid and Edison, I thought about retiring. I didn't tell anyone, but I had applied for a vice admiral position."
At first, McCoy feels surprised, but it makes sense, as does Jim's decision to hide it from him. In some way, it's the logical conclusion of everything that has happened since Cykax.
"Why not tell me? I would have listened."
"I don't know. It would have made it real, I guess. I was tired, Bones. I still am."
McCoy doesn't insist. He just puts a friendly hand on his shoulder and thinks of Spock, who also almost left, driven by guilt and his sense of duty. Jim probably doesn't know that. McCoy wonders if he should tell him if it helped or worsened the delicate balance between them. From what he just saw on the bridge, they've ignored the problem rather than solve it. They'll have to do that someday because these two are incapable of breathing without knowing the other nearby. That's partly why they're both still here and not at opposite ends of the galaxy. That's why Spock's betrayal hurt Jim more than the others.
McCoy may be Jim's best friend, but Spocks means so much more to Jim. Anything McCoy can say or do to help Jim will never matter like it would if it came from Spock. McCoy won't pretend he understands what's between them when everything's fine and even less so in the current circumstances. There's no word in English to describe what they are. There's probably no word in Vulcan, given how emotionally constipated those are. McCoy's fine with being only the best friend. He just worries so much about Jim.
"What now?" he asks as they head toward the sickbay. "You're all good?"
Jim shrugs.
"I nearly went mad being stuck on the ground. We both know I wouldn't have lasted a day behind a desk. I'm not ready to leave space yet. Maybe in five or ten years, but not yet. I fell stuck, like I still was there, on Tarsus, waiting for another disaster. But here, in space, with the engines humming around us, the crew behind me, and knowing I can do something when crazy shit happens..."
"You feel alive."
"Yes. So alive."
Jim needs a challenge, he needs his choices to matter, and he needs the connection to people. Now that they're heading straight toward danger and mystery, he can breathe. He's not addicted to danger, whatever people say. He just belongs there. Still. McCoy won't stop worrying about him. He'll worry until Jim leaves active duty and probably for the twenty years after, and he's not the only one on board.
"And Kodos?" he asks, almost despite himself.
"Kodos?" Jim frowns, like he doesn't see how McCoy's thoughts went there. "Kodos. Right. I don't care about that. I just can't wait for this to be behind us, for good. He's going to pay for his crimes. All I want is for his existence to no longer have any influence on mine. It's probably too much to ask and apparently impossible for some to accept, but I've been done with this story for years. He doesn't define me. He never will."
May it be so. McCoy's also eager for the trial to be behind them, for Jim and the others.
Once on the sickbay's doorstep, McCoy's about to invite his captain in to talk with the new doctors and nurse, but an alarm sounds throughout the hallways. Jim jumps and runs to the nearest intercom to ask for news. McCoy barely hears what's being said over the noise of the alarm, but Jim's smiling. Everything is back to normal, finally.
