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McCoy sat stiffly in his ceremonial dress uniform before a long panel of Admirals, doctors, ethics professors, and a judge. The desk he sat at was white, angular, and cool. The whole room was like that, all white and chrome and coldness and detachment - but it reminded him of the Enterprise and damn it if that wasn’t a small comfort in an uncertain time.
The judge looked up from the display pad before him and cleared his throat. He was a large man, dark and wide and intimidating, but McCoy didn’t blink.
"Computer, record," the judge began. "Let the record show that this is a Probably Cause meeting following the conclusion of an ethics investigation into the actions of one Doctor Leonard H. McCoy. I call this session to order to discuss the events involving the defected Starfleet officer known as Khan and more closely observe Doctor McCoy’s actions aboard the starship USS Enterprise on the Stardate 2259.56.”
McCoy’s stomach clenched, but his face betrayed nothing. He’d been through more horrifying meetings with a judge than this one during his divorce. That didn’t mean the fifteen faces lined up and staring him down as he sat alone in the middle of a cold, white room didn’t make him uneasy.
He knew what this was about. He knew it was about his assistance in Spock’s plan to blow up Khan’s ship, which had resulted in the destruction of massive amounts of the city and the loss of thousands of lives. The knowledge that he had been complicit in the cause of these casualties had left him sleepless and breathless at night as he stared at the ceiling of his quarters.
"The specifics of this meeting will be to present evidence of the fact that Doctor McCoy knowingly and willingly used the blood of a genetically engineered superhuman from the Eugenics War era to manipulate the body of his deceased superior officer Captain James Tiberius Kirk into a superhuman. These actions are those of a man who’s goal is to recreate the genetic experiments of the Eugenics War and reign terror not seen on this planet since the late 20th century. This is a terrorist attack that will not be tolerated by the Federation. Should the evidence provided be sufficient in proving probable cause, the charges laid against Doctor McCoy are as such: one count of terrorism, one count of conspiracy to commit terrorism, and one count of violation of the Hippocratic Oath."
McCoy’s head snapped to the judge’s face and he stared, open mouthed. Terrorism? He was being charged with terrorism for saving his best friend’s life?
"Excuse me?"
"Do you not understand the charges?"
"Oh, I understand," McCoy growled. "I understand that you’re attempting to charge me with saving the life of an innocent man and a hero of your precious federation to boot."
"What we’re attempting to prove, Doctor McCoy, is that a Starfleet officer used illegal medical procedures to create a superhuman being with the potential to bring down the entire Federation. Do you care to provide evidence to the contrary?"
McCoy snarled. “No, I damn well do not care to provide evidence to the contrary. If you’re accusing me of saving the life of Jim Kirk, then so be it. I’m guilty as charged. But don’t for one second think I brought him back from the dead to bring down your Federation. I did it because he was the only one who could save it. Consider the fact that you’re going to put me away for saving the life of Starfleet’s biggest hero and think on what the press will have to say about that.”
The judge looked at the ethics professor McCoy remembered from his third year Interplanetary Political Ethics course, who shook her head discreetly. The judge turned back to McCoy with a grimace.
"Pending further investigation, the United Federation of Planets hereby suspends the medical license of Doctor Leonard H McCoy until further notice. This meeting is adjourned."
*
McCoy downed the last of his bourbon and clanked the glass down on the side table to his left. He sighed. He’d never really realized how much time he spent at ‘Fleet Medical until he wasn’t allowed anywhere near it unless bleeding from the eyes anymore. The majority of that time seemed to be spent drinking now.
He wallowed in the fact that he was about to go down for saving a man who had turned his back and thanked someone else. Jim had been his best and only friend for the better part of four years now. McCoy had placed Jim tied for second on his list of people he’d take a bullet for - and it was a short list: Jim and Joanna. It had been Jim and Bones Against the World for four years, but things had clearly changed. Jim and Spock Debate the Prime Directive While McCoy Works A Lot and Drinks Alone seemed to be the new slogan of their adventures.
He contemplated the merits of drinking the swill from the replicator in their shared housing when Jim came bursting through the door, covered in glitter and laughing his ass off.
"Woo! Man, Bones, do the ladies ever love a good back-from-the-dead-to-save-the-world story!"
Jim kicked off his shoes and dumped his jacket on McCoy’s bed, which was met with a brooding drunken glare. When Jim flopped down beside him on the couch and nestled in a little too close for their current relationship’s comfort, McCoy stood and ignored the way Jim fell sideways on the couch from the removal of his leaning post. Apparently that’s all McCoy had ever been to him: something to boost himself up until he reached the next rung on the ladder.
"Bones, hey, what’s the matter with you?"
McCoy set his jaw and tossed the empty bourbon bottle in the recycling deposit. Jim sat up on the couch, suddenly much more sober.
"Bones? Seriously, what’s wrong?" he asked. McCoy saw him glance at the chrono on his wrist and frown. "Don’t you have clinic duty at the hospital right now?"
"Nope."
"Yeah, on Thursdays you always work a double - three to eleven, eleven to seven. And then you sleep all day on Friday. Total pain in the ass, just saying."
"Not anymore."
"Switch shifts with someone? Tell me you didn’t take Friday nights."
"I’m not a doctor anymore, Jim," McCoy sighed. "I’m just a washed up old man from Georgia with nothing to fight for."
Jim sat straight up, alarmed. “Not a doctor? You’re not quitting on me, are you, Bones? We just got our ship back.”
McCoy frowned at his phrasing. It wasn’t their ship. It was Jim’s and McCoy had only ever been a tag along. They both knew it. Might as well face the music.
"My license has been suspended, pending further investigation into my terrorist activities aboard the Enterprise, specifically involving the use of Eugenics sciences to create a superhuman to apparently bring down the Federation for personal gain."
“What?" Jim was on his feet in front of McCoy in a heartbeat. "Terrorist activity? Using Eugenics sciences to - oh.”
McCoy watched Jim’s face fall from outrage to horror.
"Because you saved me," he whispered. McCoy nodded. "Jesus. Jesus. You’re serious?"
"As a heart attack in the 20 century."
"Christ, Bones, did you explain? Did you tell them you filtered his blood back out after I started breathing on my own? Did you tell them it’s your job to save lives?"
"Oh, is that what I did?" McCoy snapped. "Save your life? I thought that green-blooded hobgoblin did all the work."
"What are you - are you angry with me?”
"No, Jim. How could I possibly be angry with you? I mean, I saved your ass a hundred times if I did it once throughout the Academy. I spent a year in fucking space with you just because you asked and I’d probably have spent a dozen more. I took anxiety meds and saw a shrink and drank myself to sleep every night because you wanted me up there with you. I brought you back from the fucking dead. Why? Because you’re the only damn thing I’ve got in this godforsaken universe. And I didn’t even get a thank you for my trouble. Hell, I didn’t even get credit. Not once.”
Jim stood less than a foot away from him, face so close it was blurry before McCoy’s eyes - or maybe that was the bourbon. Either way, Jim’s blue eyes swam a little in front of him and his soft pink lips wavered fuzzily. McCoy was breathing hard, like he’d run up ten flights of stairs, and Jim was oddly still and silent.
"Bones," he croaked out. McCoy frowned and looked away. He wasn’t Bones anymore. "No, Bones. Look at me. You’re the only thing I’ve got left in this universe, too. You’re - it’s you and me against the world, Bones, always has been. Nothing’s changed. It’s just. I’ve got a crew and a ship and job that sucks time up like a vacuum. But you’ve got to understand. You’re it. You - this - you and me. There’s nothing else out there for me."
"Jim…"
"I’m serious. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you. That was stupid. I thought you knew. Always thought you knew. I thought it was so obvious…you and me, that’s all I’ve got. You’re the most important thing. You’re everything to me."
"You’re stepping out of heartfelt apology and heading straight for romantic, there, kid."
"Good."
McCoy stared Jim full in the face for several moments before nodding and accepting the hands on his shoulders. He allowed the press of Jim’s chest to his and the curling of arms and bending of necks to shoulders.
"I’m so sorry, Bones," Jim whispered. "I’ll fix this, I promise. It’ll be you and me against the universe again. You and me. Up in the stars, forever."
"As it damn well should be," McCoy grumbled, breathing in Jim’s scent. Jim’s face pressed further into McCoy’s neck and they both sighed.
"It’s gonna be okay."
It would.