Chapter Text
Foreign Diplomacy is a class with far too much reading , Leonard thinks as he catches his eyes fluttering and his mind wandering once again while he tries to slog through the lengthy text assigned for homework. And while he’s been told by his advisor, by his professor, and by his goddamn brat of a boyfriend, Jim Kirk, why he needs to take this course he still doesn’t like it. It makes the coursework a little tougher to bear, but he’s been through worse.
Rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Leonard turns the page and presses onward until the chime of his communicator stops him. Looking over to his desk from where he’s perched on his bed, he sees just enough of the screen to make out the name ‘Kirk’ before he sighs, reaches over, and plucks the device off the desk.
Flipping it open without further ceremony, Leonard starts, bracing himself to deal with the Piece of Work that is miraculously his boyfriend. “Shouldn’t you be in class, darlin’?” he asks with more affection than annoyance. In all honesty, he’s happy for the distraction. He can sense his brain starting back up again.
The voice on the other end of the line that responds is most certainly not Jim’s, however. With a warm laugh, a woman responds, “I assume I’ve reached the infamous ‘Bones’ my son keeps telling me about.”
Oh, well now he’s fully alert again. Leonard’s eyes widen as he realizes who it is he’s speaking to. He sputters for a moment before finally regaining his voice. “Commander Kirk. I’m sorry, I didn’t--I thought--” There goes the favorable first impression.
Commander Kirk lets out a bubbly laugh. “It’s all right, Dr. McCoy. Please, you’ve no need to apologize. It’s an easy mistake to make. One time I didn’t look at the ID on my comm when I got an incoming transmission, either, and I assumed it was George. God, I was so embarrassed when it turned out to be our Chief of Engineering and I realized I’d called her ‘babe.’ And ah...began to tell her about my lack of uniform...amongst other things.”
Leonard feels his own cheeks redden. Taken aback by the unexpected casualness and the anecdote --which isn’t all too surprising given Jim’s penchant for amusing anecdotes and over sharing, but which has caught him off guard in that it’s essentially paralleling herself and George to him and Jim-- Leonard gives a weak laugh in reply. “I can imagine it would be, ma’am, but Jim’s got too much natural charm to come from just one parent, so surely you were more than capable of smoothing over that awkward encounter.”
At this, the Commander absolutely roars with laughter. “My God, Leonard, you really are a trueborn Southern gentleman! But, dear, please, no ‘ma’am’. And no ‘Commander Kirk,’ either.”
“My apologies, but I’m afraid that leaves my options a little slim here.”
“Just call me Winona. Plain and simple.”
His Southern instincts are twitching at how wrong the name sounds being used by a man who has never even spoken to Jim’s mother before, but Leonard “Bones” McCoy tells himself this was probably to be expected. Winona Kirk doesn’t seem like the type to stand on ceremony, much like her son. “Yes, ma’-- Sure thing, Winona. That I can do.”
“Your mom did a good job with you, Leonard.”
“It was either that or face the swift justice of a wooden spoon on the back of the hand,” Leonard jests, earning another round of laughter from Winona.
“Ah, so that’s the secret? I could’ve benefitted from that eight or so years ago!”
“I dunno if a wooden spoon would’ve done you any good, Winona. I don’t imagine any wooden spoon would’ve stopped Jim from doing what he wanted.”
“True enough,” Winona says with a chuckle. “Now,” she continues when the laughter has died down, and Leonard silently notices the shift in tone that is markedly more sober and hushed, “I wish I was just calling to make small-talk, but unfortunately there’s something else I’m calling about.”
“And that is?”
“Jim. I’m worried about him.”
“I know he can be a reckless idiot who likes to get himself into trouble and run his mouth off, but Jim’s really turned into an almost model cadet. He’s doing well. What’s worrying you, ma’am?”
“Leonard--” she cuts in, although the warning has no heat in it. She sounds amused rather than angry.
Realizing his mistake, Leonard amends himself. “Sorry. Habit. My deepest apologies.”
“It’s hard to explain since it’s not my story to tell, but this time of year tends to be rough for Jim. I just wanted to make sure he’s doing all right.”
The worry laced in her voice makes Leonard’s heart sink. She sounds more than just a little worried; she sounds terribly concerned and outright distressed. True to what must be Kirk fashion, Winona hides it well, but Leonard’s gotten good at reading people and, especially, people with the name Kirk. “Yeah, he’s fine as far as I can tell. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“I--Well, I can’t really say. Like I said: not my place to do that. But if you could just... keep an eye on him for me? I mean a closer eye than usual, that is. I know you already watch out for him, but just be on your guard.”
“Of course. You should know, Winona, I would never let anything happen to him as long as I can help it.” He wants to do all he can to assuage her fears, sensing how deeply they must be plaguing her within where no one else can see. And he wants her to know he cares about Jim more than he knows how to articulate; to a point that’s almost scary. He wants Winona to be assured that Jim’s in good hands.
“You’re a sweet boy, Leonard. I’m glad he’s got you looking out for him. Keep me posted, okay?” Leonard nods, even if she can’t see him doing so. “If something happens and you’re not sure what to do or what to say, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’m on the Lexington in deep space right now, but I’ve worked out emergency channels with the Chief of Communications and the Captain here to ensure that if I need access to long range subspace transmissions, then I have it.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be sure to reach out if the need arises, but I’ve got enough experience handling him in all kinds of crazy moods. I think I’ll be able to manage,” Leonard says with a small smile and a reassuring voice.
“Careful, Len. Just when you think you know him, he winds up surprising you once again and driving an antique corvette over the side of a cliff,” she says teasingly, but there’s something in her tone that’s not so light-hearted and the laughter that punctuates the end of that statement is strained, almost pained.
“Jesus, I’m sorry, what ?”
She sighs. The kind of sigh that Leonard gives when he’s finished a long and particularly merciless shift and he feels tired straight down to his bones. “Like I said: kid’s full of surprises.”
“Crazy, reckless space cowboy…” he mutters, rolling his eyes just thinking about the ridiculous idiot he’s found himself emotionally attached to.
Winona laughs. “Thank you, Leonard. For looking out for him.”
“My pleasure, but don’t tell him I said that.”
“I’d best get back to work. Keep in touch.”
“Will do. Take care, Winona. Nice finally talkin’ to you.”
“You, too, Leonard. I can see why he loves you.” And with that, Winona Kirk ends the call and Leonard is left staring at his communicator. Stunned at her parting words, Leonard takes a moment to just sit there for a moment and process whatever the hell just happened. But there’s a twist in his gut as he wonders just what it is that makes October such a rough month for Jim. What could be so bad that it made his mother feel inclined to call Leonard for the first time ever to check up on her son; to ask him to keep her in the loop about how he’s doing all of a sudden?
He’s glad the conversation seemed to go well and that she seems to like him, but he’s got a niggling feeling that something’s not right. Or, more accurately, something is about to go very wrong.
Perhaps the next several days would have gone by normally had Winona not called and raised his guard, but once Leonard starts looking for signs of concern, he begins to see them everywhere.
When he meets Jim for lunch the next day, Jim’s appetite isn’t as large as Leonard expects it to be. The guy constantly skips meals without even realizing it, claiming he’s busy or not feeling hungry or that he’s cryptically just ‘used to’ skipping over a meal or two whenever Leonard gets on his case about it. Of course, as soon as he sits down for a meal he’s suddenly and ridiculously ravenous and eats like a bear preparing for hibernation. One time Leonard saw him eat an entire pizza pie all by himself.
But on this particular day, when Leonard finally looks across the table after they’ve both retrieved their meals, he notices the meager meal Jim has assembled for himself. His tray contains only a few slices of bread with a slab of butter on the side, some cheese, and an apple. He frowns. “That hardly seems like enough food for you, Jim.”
Staring down at his food rather bleakly, Jim shrugs. “Not really feeling too hungry today,” he explains before picking up his apple and biting into it.
Something about the answer and Jim’s demeanor doesn’t seem right, but everybody’s got their off days. Even Jim , Leonard reminds himself. So he leans forward and drives his fork into his own meal.
Twenty minutes later, Leonard is just finishing up his lunch. Jim is idly chattering on about some course of his while absently nibbling away at the core of the apple, seeming more like himself again. Leonard wonders if the meager meal he’s eaten has anything to do with it. Either way, he’s glad for the improvement in mood that Jim sustains until Leonard decides he’s finished, sets his fork aside on the tray, and gets up to dispose of it. Jim pauses, mouth poised to take another bite of the apple he’s still nipping at, and makes a weird keening noise.
“Wait a second. You’re throwing that out?”
Leonard freezes, tray in hand, and raises an eyebrow at him. He feels inclined to retort with a comment about the apple anyone else would’ve thrown out by now. He can’t even truly figure out what Jim could still be gnawing at if not the damn core itself given that there’s no real flesh left on the apple. Sensing this is not the time for any kind of ribbing however, he refrains. “Yeah, I’m finished.”
“But…” Jim stares at the tray with wide, sad eyes, then back up at Leonard like he’s committing some sort of felony, “But there’s still food on your plate.”
Looking down at his plate, confused, Leonard surveils the remnants of his meal. “Well, yeah, just a little bit. Maybe a spoonful of corn, a bite of a roll that was getting hard to chew, and a green bean or two. The rest is just chicken bones, Jim.”
“Don’t toss it out. That’s good food, Bones.”
Leonard huffs out a small laugh. “I don’t think I could eat another bite if I tried, Jim. I’m full. But if it’s really botherin’ you, then--”
“Here,” Jim says, motioning with a hand for Leonard to pass the tray over to him.
He blinks, brows raised in surprise at the forcefulness and urgency with which Jim speaks. He hands it over. “Go crazy, kid. Want me to throw that out for ya while I’m up?” he asks, gesturing to the apple core in Jim’s free hand.
For a brief moment, there’s panic in Jim’s eyes as he looks from his boyfriend to the apple. “No, I’m not finished yet.”
“Darlin’, is there even any meat left on that thing at this point?” he asks lightly, teasingly.
Jim looks unamused but also a little bit cornered, like a kid with a precious toy or blanket that he’s being asked to part with. It twists Leonard’s gut in a funny and unpleasant kind of way. “I said I’m not done, Bones. What’s it to you? I’ll throw it out myself later.”
“All right, fine. Just tryin’ to be helpful,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. He sits back down and waits as Jim finishes the rest of his meal for him.
Jim’s still got the apple in his hand when they split off to head to their respective classes, practically sucking on the bare core of the damn thing at this point but still reluctant to relinquish it to any waste bin. Leonard says nothing about it and heads to class.
A shift at the Academy clinic late into the night after classes means Leonard doesn’t see Jim again until the following afternoon during lunch hour. Once more, Jim’s meal is a meager one, but he eats absolutely every last morsel. He chats, and Leonard responds minimally, concerned with finishing his own meal and also being a man of few words to begin with. As his own tray begins to clear, Jim becomes increasingly invested in Leonard’s eating habits more than his own. He thinks Jim’s trying to be subtle about it, but the furtive glances between Leonard and the food remaining on his tray are hardly inconspicuous. He draws no attention to them, letting Jim obtain his piece of mind without scrutiny. Knowing that he himself is under scrutiny, Leonard makes it a point to eat every single scrap of his food this time. The sandwich, the pickle, the chips... everything.
He looks over at Jim and his tray once he’s done. “Finished?” he asks, and Jim steals a glance at Leonard’s tray before he nods, seeming satisfied, and gets up from the table. They return their trays to the kitchen and walk across campus to their shared Crisis Negotiation and Response course. Despite it being the Starfleet equivalent of a college gen ed, hence the reason why he and Jim are in it together, it’s one of Leonard’s favorite courses this semester. It’s rather repetitive in some spots because he was, after all, an experienced trauma surgeon before coming to Starfleet Academy, but it’s interesting to learn more about crisis response and how Starfleet’s branches work in tandem during crises to help those who are in need. This course, unlike other Starfleet “gen eds,” is the most relevant and interesting to him yet.
Usually, Jim is equally if not more invested than he is, but today Jim seems to have drawn into himself. He seems to have his body here in the lecture hall, but his mind is somewhere else further off. Leonard wonders exactly where.
At the end of the class, their instructor tells them their reading assignment for next class, in which they’ll be discussing a very terrible but important crisis that they can learn a great deal from by studying. Many students reflexively switch screens on their PADDs to access the files that have been sent to them. Leonard follows suit. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Jim do so, too, albeit with a kind of wariness.
Leonard opens the file and feels his blood run cold. The reading is on the Tarsus IV Massacre. It includes several first-hand accounts from Starfleet officers, statements from a couple of colonists, as well as other primary source data files. Leonard sighs, heart heavy at the mere idea of having to revisit this awful tragedy when hearing about it ten years ago was horrible enough.
Age nineteen and in college at the time, he remembers hearing people whisper about it across campus at Ole Miss, watching the news reels about it, listening to the few interviews they could get from the Starfleet personnel who had been there or those colonists willing to speak about the horror they had survived. What had really cut him to the core, though, were the photographs of the starved children and the stories of children who had lost their parents or worse, parents who had lost their children.
His stomach churns just at the thought of having to read about this and discuss it all over again. Most of the Federation, Leonard is pretty sure, feels the same way. They avoid talk of Tarsus like actors avoid saying ‘Macbeth’ on stage (a ridiculous tradition that still somehow lingers on). It’s an unspoken taboo.
Jim, it seems, is no exception. The kid’s turning pale, a haunted look in his eyes as he stares down at his PADD grimly transfixed by its content.
“...you all to have read and be ready to discuss next class. If anyone has any questions or concerns about the reading and the discussion next week, please contact me either after class or privately. I understand that this is a difficult subject, and normally I’d pick another crisis to investigate with this class, but given the fact that the ten year anniversary is in a couple of days, I thought we might as well tackle the subject in a meaningful way. It was a critical and devastating mismanagement of a crisis on the Federation’s part; one we must continue to learn from and never forget so we can ensure something like it never happens again. That being said, you’re all dismissed. See you next class,” the instructor finishes, and with that the class begins to pack their things.
Leonard shuts off his PADD and stuffs it in his bag. He’s scooting out of his chair when he notices Jim hasn’t even moved. His glassy eyes are still fixed on the screen before him. His face is an ashy gray. Leonard has half a mind to drag Jim over to the Academy clinic.
“Jim?” He calls out, trying to gently reach his boyfriend and pull him out of this trance he seems to have gotten stuck in. “Jim,” he says a bit more firmly this time, reaching out to grab Jim’s shoulder.
The younger man jumps, head snapping up until wide, watery eyes meet his. Jim looks panicked and embarrassed, like he’s been exposed doing something he didn’t want anyone to see.
“Christ, Bones! Don’t do that!” he says breathlessly before casting a look around to see that most of the class has already exited the lecture hall. Shakily, he turns off his PADD and shoves it hastily in his bag. Leonard silently notes that his hands are trembling.
“Sorry, Jim. You all right?”
“Yeah,” Jim gruffly answers as he stands, grabbing his bag. “‘Course. I’m fine.” The thick, strangled nature of it is utterly unconvincing.
“Quite a bit of heavy reading, huh,” Leonard casually notes as they exit the room.
Jim quietly hums in agreement but says nothing else. When they exit the building, he makes up some excuse about meeting up with his flight squad to go over maneuvers before one of their flight tests later this week and runs off. Leonard is left to cross the quad himself with a very unsettling feeling blossoming in his gut.
He calls Winona after his next, and last, class of the day.