Chapter Text
Leonard McCoy sat hunched at the bar, lost in a constant loop of never-ending thoughts as he stared down the bottom of his drink.
He was faintly aware of the Christmas music playing in the background, of the garland draped across the shelving and the smattering of holiday cards tacked up behind the bar.
But he was not in the Christmas spirit. Not even a little bit.
He took a long swig of his drink, staring straight ahead at nothing at all and wondering why he was still there.
His cellphone vibrated in his pocket. Again.
And yet again he declined the call.
When your name showed up on the screen for the third time that evening, he switched his phone off entirely. He thought it would make him feel better to silence your calls, but it was almost as bad as letting them go to voicemail. Maybe even worse.
He still couldn’t believe you were considering going into space without him.
You had both moved in together a few short weeks ago. It was a small apartment--just the bare essentials, but it had a wonderful view of the city and it was in close proximity to some of the major shopping centers in the area.
Sharing a living space together like this had definitely taken the relationship to the next level, serving to bring you two even closer to each other than before—physically and emotionally. Leonard was still getting used to being greeted by you after work with a warm hug and a smile. He’d become so accustomed to coming home to an empty apartment year after year, and he much preferred the new routine.
For the last year now, you’d been spending most of your time at his place living out of a suitcase, so getting an apartment of your own together felt like a natural progression. And for the first time in a long time, Leonard actually felt happy and content. Things with you just seemed.... right. So right it almost scared him.
The moving boxes had not even been fully unpacked when a certain offer from Starfleet had been brought to your attention. This once in a lifetime offer.
You had told him gently that you would think about the offer Starfleet had brought forth, that you wouldn’t reach a decision right away. And he let himself hope for a moment that you would somehow turn it down. That you didn’t have a need to venture out into space and explore the unknown without him.
He had left the decision-making completely up to you, avoiding any conversation about the offer at all--about what this would mean for you, for your relationship, for your future. He was not willing to think about any of that.
Leonard downed his drink and signaled the bartender for more.
He knew he was acting selfish, and he hated himself for it. But he couldn’t help it. He was not ready to have you leave his life like that. So suddenly and with so little warning. Not talking about it seemed to make it less real. Less daunting.
He hadn’t expected to feel so strongly about this—the news wasn’t exactly out of the blue. You both were enlisted in Starfleet, and ship assignments could happen at any time, he knew that. Sure, there were certain assignments that you could request specifically, but where you ultimately landed was Starfleet’s decision alone to make.
He knew you’d probably be assigned to the U.S.S Kelvin, the Farragut, or even on a starbase somewhere.
But, the Enterprise? The most decorated ship in the fleet?
Leonard took another swig of his drink, the burning of the alcohol doing nothing to dull the roiling emotions wrestling around in his stomach. It was common knowledge that the Enterprise’s missions took place in deep space, to the farthest reaches of the cosmos where no Federation being had ever ventured before. The missions were long (usually spanning many years) and taxing, with the crew constantly facing imminent danger or even certain death. But the adventures had on board were something that most people would never get the chance to experience, and it was the reason why it was the most sought-after assignment in the entire fleet. Serving a successful mission on that ship instantly propelled the career of a crewman or woman ahead several years. It was indeed a chance of a lifetime.
When you had got the call in the middle of the living room two weeks ago that the Enterprise wanted you for its next five-year mission, Leonard felt like his heart had hit the floor. He’d wanted to rip the phone out of your hands, tell the person on the other end that they had the wrong number. Tell the entirety of Starfleet that you were only ever allowed to work in this quadrant of space. With him.
He exhaled through his teeth, raking a hand through his dark hair as he continued to listlessly stare down at the bar. The last few strains of “Silent Night” lingered in the air and it made the ache in his heart even more pronounced. He missed you. It was Christmas Eve for god’s sake. He should be out with you doing some last-minute holiday shopping, or helping you with apartment decorations before hugging you to his chest and enjoying the soft light of the Christmas tree.
Not sitting here in a dim-lit bar with a sad group of lonely patrons who had nowhere else to be.