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Silence stretched everywhere, incessant and ruthless. There were no footsteps, hurried or calm; there was no laughter, no hushed voices or loud yells, just silence, as it had been ever since the Enterprise came back from deep space a month ago.
Jim’s mind was usually a thunderous, restless place, had always been, but the silence was a monstrous thing and kept robbing him of his thoughts. And the void it left, the gaping nothingness that reminded him too much of that place in space that used to hold Vulcan gnawed at his chest until he didn’t even know how he was able to keep breathing, how he was able to endure both that pain and the phantom ache from the meld that he could always feel if he reached far enough inside of him.
He kept wondering about what ifs. It certainly wasn’t of any use, but Jim couldn’t help but think that maybe if he hadn’t cheated, if he hadn’t been sleeping aboard the Enterprise, maybe there would’ve been enough time to save the planet they’d lost, to think of some other way of attack so as not to lose half of Starfleet during it.
Jim had tried to be busy ever since. It was the healthier coping mechanism he could think of, but there wasn’t much he could do or was allowed to do. The Admiralty had forgiven him for everything, but it wasn’t like they trusted him. If anything, they just knew he could work under pressure and that he was a stubborn son of a bitch with ludicrous good luck when it came to taking risky and less than recommended command decisions.
They had let him keep his place in the Academy, his post as TA, had even reluctantly agreed to him taking a couple of other courses to help instructing, but otherwise gave him no clue to think they actually appreciated having him among their rows.
And God, Jim only needed to do something, anything to feel useful again, even a little bit. But of course, Command didn’t care. Nobody did.
Jim felt not even his best friend did anymore.
The fact that Bones had been busy lately was an understatement. Being a Senior Medical Officer, a skilled surgeon and an equally gifted trauma doctor, he’d been buried up to his nose in surgeries and clinic duty tending to survivors, and the only times of the day Jim ever saw him was during meals, and that was only because Jim searched for him. Bones arrived late at night and left by dawn. Sometimes Jim stayed awake and heard him shuffling around because it made him feel better to have a tangible reminder his friend lived there too, and Jim struggled to be sympathetic, fought against the urge of demanding more than Bones was able to give at the moment.
But lately, every time he reached it hurt more than it mended. Bones seemed so distant, always ate in fifteen minutes tops, if not quietly then just bothering to maintain small talk with him until he had to wave him goodbye after thanking him for the food, which Jim always picked up from places he knew the doctor liked.
Jim wanted to believe his friend was just extremely busy, that his job was taxing, that he wasn’t ignoring him on purpose, that he still cared, because who was he to be so selfish? To demand Bones to be with him because he needed him?
But he was. He was selfish, he was needy, he was an awful person. He wanted Bones for himself. And each time his friend—or life itself, or whatever—denied him, he tried not to be upset, he tried to push his own issues the deepest he could, but like indelible ink he couldn’t ever cover it successfully. He managed to squash it to a permanent itch, an ugly, filthy thing crawling under his skin chewing at him, but what was the point in fighting so hard? Who the hell even gave a damn about him anymore?
His stepfather had sent a mock of a salute soon after he’d returned to Earth, calling Jim ‘a big damn hero, just like your daddy’ in such a contemptible of a tone Jim flinched every time he heard the word hero, even more than he already did prior to that.
His mother hadn’t even bothered with a note. Jim knew she had to know what happened and as much as he hated to admit it, he had been expecting her to call him, if only to yell at him for trying to be like his father. Anything was better than the cold, silent treatment she’d always given Jim and if she was pissed because he’d joined Starfleet, because he’d been a Captain for a short period of time, because he’d tried to be every inch George Kirk’s son he could after running from that same shadow and weight for most of his life, then at least Jim would know that, deep down, she cared for him.
But she hadn’t. She hadn’t, and it hurt like hell to know that no matter what he did, he could never make her look at him, not even for one second.
Sam… well. That was a mystery Jim hadn’t figured out in years and probably never would. His brother had vanished from his life fourteen years ago, and after Earth and the whole Federation almost perished in the hands of a disturbed Romulan from an alternate universe, that hadn’t changed.
He could be alive, he could be dead. Jim could only guess.
Was Bones really different from them? He hated himself for it, but he was starting to have doubts. That moment in the bridge when his best friend, the one person Jim thought would never leave him alone, had sided with someone he barely knew, had done absolutely nothing while Jim was thrown out of a ship and abandoned in a gigantic ice ball only because apparently his mouth was too big for Spock to allow it to be on board, that had been a blow he wasn’t prepared to take, and no matter how much he forced himself to rationalize Bones had only been doing his duty as Acting CMO, the sting of betrayal swept away every ounce of confidence he’d ever had in their friendship.
The brief smile and almost-hug Bones had given him when he arrived to the Enterprise with Pike was the only thing stopping him from feeling adrift again, like he’d been all his life before joining Starfleet, before meeting Bones, and he was so scared of going back to wander again, of not having anything to make an effort for, of just living life as it was tossed at his face, of having no reason to be, of resorting to his old habits to disappoint no one but himself and a dead man that he’d never known.
It was almost noon. Maybe a little bit too early for lunch if he went to buy food and rush to Starfleet Medical like it was his routine, but if he did everything at a normal pace, he and Bones could be eating close to one o’clock and that was an acceptable time to have lunch, right?
Besides, Jim didn’t think he could be alone much longer. He needed to be with Bones, if only for a few minutes, if only to be able to watch him eating, to convince himself he was busy but still there after he’d greeted him with an almost imperceptible smile and a glint in his eyes.
He chose Italian for that day and peered at the doctors’ lounge after a nurse let him in. It was early, that much was true, but Bones didn’t seem to have a problem with that.
He was already eating with his colleagues, his back to the door, his shoulders a bit stiff but not even as much as they always were when Bones was around strangers or doing something he didn’t like.
Gulping too noisily for his own ears, slightly muting the easy chat the medical personnel was having, Jim turned around and threw the bag he was carrying in the nearest can, breaking into a dash and bolting through the doors.
That was the way it was then.
Bones didn’t want him around.
Bones didn’t need him, not nearly as much as Jim did, most likely not at all.
One of the few moments they had for themselves and Bones chose to share it with someone else, and maybe, just maybe, if he had let Jim know he was doing it, then—then it wouldn’t have felt like such a punch in the gut, the type that left him breathless and reeling, almost unable to stand, the type that would leave him sore for days on end, reminding him how stupid he had been in the first place for taking such a risk, for daring to hope he was not alone in the world after all, for believing for a while he was actually enough for someone to stay with him.
Even though he clearly wasn’t, would never be enough for anyone to do that.
He had no problems finding an open bar in the middle of the day. He also had no problems getting as plastered as he hadn’t been in three years, so much that the owner judged necessary to kick him out of the empty bar before Jim could pick a fight with the bartender and the other two lonely, pathetic souls in there.
Giving a bitter, loud chuckle, he sat on the sidewalk and watched the hover-cars go past him. He still had three-quarters of a bottle of whisky and he planned on making the most of its contents until he could spot another hole in the wall bar or liquor store, whichever came first.
Everything reminded him of Bones. The occasional noise of an ambulance rushing by, a grumpy-looking man walking on the other side of the street, shouted curses carried by the wind, even the green of the trees lit by the afternoon Sun brought him flickers of the green-gold of his eyes and wasn’t that pitiable, how obvious it was that Jim’s whole world began and ended with and in Bones.
It was only at night, after crashing and being kicked out of his third bar of the day, when Jim snapped out of his grief enough to remember something important.
Regardless of Bones’ real feelings for him, the man was a mother hen, it was in his nature, it was part of the reason why he made such a good doctor. He’d freak out if Jim didn’t go to their dorm at all and wouldn’t sleep a wink waiting for him to arrive injured, drunk, unstable and most likely all of the above. He could almost see him waiting by the door, med-kit grasped firmly in hand, scowling and cussing at him for being such an idiot.
If Jim’s plan had been sleeping on a bench in the park across town, it wasn’t anymore. Reluctantly, he brought himself to his feet, took the bus that passed the closest to campus, and walked the rest of the way.
The night’s chill helped him to clear his head a bit. The thought of facing Bones still sent thick, tangible dread through his spine. The memory of his eyes on him, of his fingers working on fixing him, on steadying him was not something he could bear.
If Bones tried to touch him, Jim wasn’t sure what he’d do. He couldn’t have it, couldn’t allow it to happen ever again, it was not a luxury he was permitted to feel anymore, it was not a friend taking care of him because he meant something to him, it was only a doctor’s touch, a doctor’s job, an oath Bones had taken long ago to help even the most worthless of souls if they were in need no matter what.
Jim was too much of a mess to decipher whether he was more hurt or disappointed when he found the room empty.
He simply took off his boots and passed out on his bed, hugging the pillow close to his chest, burying his face in it until he could only breathe his own warm, used, wasted air, disgusting as it was and not exactly because of the stink of alcohol.
No. That was all him.
Disgusting as he was, at least this ended right then. No more pushing, no more reaching out, no more battling not to lose something he’d never had in the first place.
He would leave Bones alone in a couple of days. There were plenty of empty rooms for him to move to and God knew the man had enough work to do, enough patients to take care of, without Jim waiting for him every day too.
About his dream of being Captain of a Starship with Bones as his Chief Medical Officer… well.
Better not to go there yet.
Baby steps.
He’d deal with that when the time came.
If he was lucky enough, he’d die long before that, probably in the most stupid of ways and completely, utterly alone.
***
Bones would deny it to his dying breath, but he’d come accustomed to thinking of himself in terms of that ridiculous but all the same fond nickname faster and harder than he’d ever thought it was possible.
Still, he didn’t consent to anyone else using it but Jim. The few of his classmates who tried had received a glare that was this short of being a deadly phaser shot and hadn’t tried ever since, nor anyone else after that.
It was something just for the two of them, almost an endearment in Jim’s lips, too personal to share, to explain.
Perhaps Bones had been drunker than he thought he was while taking that first shuttle to San Fran, but he’d never been a talkative man, not even blind drunk, and everything he had spilled to Jim that day, he’d done it trusting in him at first sight, having a hunch that for once in his life he’d found someone who was as raw and in need as he was.
And boy, had he been right about that.
They had clung to each other ever since. Bones remembered Jim’s low, straightforward voice in his ears, stubbornly trying to chase away his fear, his hands that appeared to be everywhere at once every time there was a turbulence, securing him to his seat and calming him down at the same time, firm and comforting, not letting go of him for an instant even though they weren’t always on him.
Jim reminded him of a stray dog that day. No more than a pup, deprived and starving who had jumped and held with all his might on the first bone that had been thrown in his direction. And wasn’t his nickname some kind of a slip, of an unconscious joke about that too.
For a moment, he had been more frightened of himself than of the flight itself.
He couldn’t remember when had been the last time he’d felt that much hate for people he had never known, but he had. He still did. He knew with blinding certainty that if he was ever forced to treat Jim’s family, he was going to do his job alright, like he’d always done it, but with a quiet prayer in the back of his mind, the worst wish a doctor could make but an urge for retribution he wasn’t able to stop all the same. I hope you feel as much pain as you’ve caused him before dying, and I hope you die the most forlorn of deaths and that no one is there to help you.
Of course Jim hadn’t said a thing about his family that day, but he didn’t need to. Bones had heard his last name, had seen experience glinting in the depth of blue eyes too hefty for someone that young, knew suffering was the fastest master in life, recognized behavioral patterns of someone who craved attention and care, and connected the dots.
He’d missed the kid so much lately. He barely had time to sleep after Nero’s clusterfuck, pulling all the extra-shifts he was allowed to in the hospital, so he’d only seen Jim for lunch and dinner and never for too long, always being called back quicker than he’d like, and he was never able to have a real conversation with him because of that.
He knew Jim Kirk well, sometimes thought he knew him even better than he knew himself, and because of that he wasn’t going to commit the mistake of asking outright how he was doing.
Jim would just show him a toothy smile and wave his concern away with some easy joke or pretending he was ogling the passing nurse.
He figured he could be excused for some hours the next day, since all critical patients were stable and he’d been working his ass off for almost a month with little to no rest at all.
He asked another surgeon to cover for him tomorrow using all the charm he was capable of summoning and got invited to have lunch with the entire surgical staff for his trouble. He almost declined by reflex, but he stopped himself in time, deciding it was best to be polite if he wanted to get what he asked for and that he could eat a bit while waiting for Jim and then have proper lunch with him before rushing back to the O.R. and more clinic duty.
Jim never came though, not even for dinner. It made something twist painfully in his gut. He had his comm. unit in his pocket, trusted his friend to call him if he was hurt, and was about to use it to call him to make sure he was okay over three times but was always interrupted by something or another.
Before he knew it, his shift ended. Nitpicking freak as he was, he took a sonic shower and changed all his clothes including his shoes because he’d be damned if he was going to be spreading extraterrestrial and pathogenic biota outside as most people in his profession did, before leaving the hospital and stopped briefly at the front desk where Nurse Chapel was still working.
He raised an eyebrow at her, and before he could add anything, she smirked at him. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of pulling double shifts, Doctor. Consider I’m just doing desk duty, unlike someone else I know.”
Bones snorted, having the grace of looking chastised for a second before crossing his arms. “It’s not my fault we’re awfully under-staffed, Nurse Chapel. Have a good evening.”
She tilted her head in agreement and caught his arm when Bones was turning to leave. “Doctor McCoy,” she said in a hushed tone that forced him to get closer, frowning at her secrecy, “I know you always eat with Cadet Kirk. I saw you were looking for him earlier and I wanted to tell you he was here. I didn’t see him, but the rest of the nurses were talking about him.”
“What?” His mind, always fast to make the most horrible of leaps, was already giving him at least five different explanations of why Jim would’ve gone to the hospital only to leave without talking to him at all. “What did they say? Chapel, please, I need to know.”
Chapel suddenly blushed. “I don’t think this is relevant but if you must now, the staff thinks you had a lovers’ quarrel and that he looks cute upset.”
Bones was suddenly glad Chapel was still gripping him by the arm because he lost his grounding for a moment and had to take a deep breath with his eyes closed before replying. “I—Thanks. I need to go now.”
He didn’t spare a glance back and spent the whole way to their dorm cursing himself because of course his luck would dictate Jim would want to eat earlier the day he had to make socials and of course Jim would think he was absolutely okay with not seeing him at all that day. Or any day, for that matter.
He was purposefully pushing to the back of his mind the new knowledge about people who he worked with being apparently convinced Jim was his boyfriend.
He had enough to deal with as it was.
“Goddamn it,” he said to no one in particular, though a passing cadet looked at him curiously as Bones strode through the hall.
It was past ten o’clock when he unlocked the door and walked in, his wheezing resounding loud in the stillness of the room.
He didn’t call for the lights, a single flash of the campus lights coming through the windows to land in the middle of their beds was enough to see what he needed.
Jim was lying on his bed, fully dressed, curling on his side with half of his face covered by his pillow. The other half was sweaty and closed-up. The smell of alcohol reached Bones’ nostrils when he carefully took a seat beside him on the mattress.
Jim didn’t even stir due the change of weight on it, didn’t even move.
With his heart pounding loudly in his ears and painfully in his chest, Bones checked Jim’s pulse. It was fast and irregular from time to time, and he didn’t like that one bit, but knew it was only to be expected with the amount of booze Jim had that day.
Sighing wearily, he stood up and went to the bathroom, preparing a couple of hypos and wetting a small towel with warm water.
Slowly and with utmost care so as not to wake him, he rolled Jim to his back, disentangled him from his pillow, and started undressing him so he could sleep more comfortably. He also washed Jim’s face with the towel and checked his pulse again.
When he was almost done and about to tuck him under the covers, Jim’s breathing became erratic, almost like a decapitated fit of sobs, and Bones froze as those piercing blue eyes stared hazily at him.
“Jim,” he whispered, “Jim. What happened?”
His best friend just closed his eyes again and for a long minute, Bones thought he wasn’t going to get an answer, that he hadn’t heard him. But he did, “You weren’t here.”
Jim sighed then, adopting the same position he was in when Bones came in. On autopilot, Bones tucked him in and staggered back to his own bed, not even seeing the hand he was rubbing his face with.
He’d never heard Jim being so open about that. About the fact that he relied on him so much, about just how much he needed Bones by his side and sure, he’d known before, he’d tried to make sure Jim knew it was the same for him, that he wouldn’t, couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be if it wasn’t with him, even if they were talking of being in the middle of space, which he despised and couldn’t truly stand the idea of working and living there without him.
But hearing it out loud was somehow different, more final, it said so much about them both.
And so help him God, he was okay with it all. He was more than okay, he was thrilled with it.
He gave Jim the hypos with the gentlest touch he could manage and sent an urgent message to Starfleet Medical stating he had a family emergency and wouldn’t be able to show up the next day at all.
He set his alarm for seven am and fell asleep. Fitful as it was, the rest wasn’t unwelcome and when morning came, he went out of campus and bought the unhealthiest food he was able to cope with.
By the time he came back, Jim was sitting on his bed, looking utterly confused first and completely stunned at seeing him afterward.
That stung, but he figured he deserved it.
“Bones!” Jim said, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be—“
“I have the day off, Jim,” he rolled his eyes, for normalcy’s sake mostly, and put the bags of food on the tiny table they had in the room, “Now come here, food’s getting cold.”
More often than not Jim was in nothing but boxers and tank-tops around their room. That he chose to put on sweat pants before sitting at the table didn’t go unnoticed for him.
He knew that extra layer of clothing was a layer he’d put there by being absent, by being busy trying to save too many people, that he had neglected the one thing that had brought peace back to his life, to his heart, that had come to give this new life he had decided he was going to hate from day one a new, warm meaning.
They ate in silence while Bones stared at him and Jim kept his gaze down, focusing on his plate.
Bones had bought coffee too, that sweet variety that Jim couldn’t get enough of, but he hadn’t even taken a sip from it yet and was simply picking at his food in mute.
He was about to say something, when Jim spoke, frowning. “You don’t like any of these things.”
“You do,” he replied, letting the air come out through his nose so his tone wouldn’t sound as frustrated as he was feeling, “You’ve been bringing me food that I like all this time, Jim. Why does it have to be weird for me to do the same?”
“But you’re busy,” too busy for me, he heard although Jim didn’t say it. His voice was quiet enough to carry that to him, “Did they kick you out today because you’ve been working too much? That’s funny.”
“No, Jim,” this was no time for coyness, and Bones knew it, so he took a breath and waited until Jim was looking at him in the eye to say, “I asked for the day off because I wanted to spend it with you.”
“You should use it to rest and do things you want, Bones, like catching up with your medical journals? I know you’ve been cranky because you haven’t been able to read them all,” Jim countered casually. He stood up, taking the coffee cup with him and drinking it while carrying his half-empty plate to the recycler, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll go out, I won’t bother you.”
Bones followed him to the kitchenette. He gripped one of Jim’s shoulders in an involuntary touch that came as easy as breathing for either of them or at least had in the past. It was amazing how it all could be so messed up so suddenly.
At that, Jim actually jerked back. Bones felt it like a slap on the face but he didn’t remove his hand, “What I want to do is watch one of those god-awful, mind-numbing and ancient films you like. With you, in case that’s not clear enough.”
Jim was still tense under his hand and doing his best to look at anything that wasn’t him. “Bones, you don’t have to—“
He kept pushing, because he’d be damned if he was going to let go just because it was difficult, just because he’d unwillingly managed to push Jim away. “I know I don’t have to, I want to.”
“But why?”
“Damn it, Jim! Why is it so hard to believe that I’ve missed you? I did notice we haven’t spent time together since we came back, I thought this was a nice idea. Was I wrong?”
Shaking his head while biting his lip, Jim finally acquiesced and let himself be pulled to his bed.
It was a good thing his snapping had actually been a successful technique, he was starting to think he’d have to directly address the issue and that was never a recommended thing to do when Jim was hurting because he’d only insist on licking his wounds alone to come back if maybe limping, at least stronger than before.
Bones didn’t comment on the fact Jim looked incredibly stiff and awkward on his bed when they were used to sharing space like that. Jim had actually slept on it several times because it was the one against the wall and the closer to the door. He just closed the blinds, got the lights off and put the flat screen on the nightstand after moving it to the center of the space between their beds.
They usually slumped against the wall, pressed against each other’s sides but Bones knew that wasn’t going to work this time, that he had to give Jim time and a chance to come back to him on his own so he sat cross-legged with his back to him, his head turned to the screen and instructed the computer to start the movie.
He tried to pay attention to it at the same time he listened to Jim’s every shift. Bit by bit, his friend got closer and Bones smiled to himself when finally Jim supported his back against his own.
It took him the rest of the day and five entire games of Battleship, a game Jim couldn’t get tired of and that he didn’t even have to pretend to lose in order to make him happy because he got his ass spectacularly kicked each time, but they were more or less back to their normal camaraderie by the end of it.
Jim was just stepping out of the shower when Bones decided to ask, “Do you want to go have a drink?”
Making a face after putting on a white t-shirt, Jim shook his head. “I think I had enough yesterday, Bones. Do you want to go? I’ll go with you, I can drink juice.”
A shimmer of pride went through him at hearing those shy words. He knew it was Jim’s way of saying he was sorry and of thanking him for taking care of him at the same time and he appreciated them for what they were.
They went to a bar anyway, because Bones was only human and he did need a drink. Jim kept his word and ordered watermelon juice, which was one of the things they had to serve to alien clientele who couldn’t stomach alcohol because of their different physiology.
Naturally, it wasn’t even an hour since they’d arrived and Jim was already being hit on by both males and females, humans or otherwise. Bones was used to it and just waved at him to go on if he so pleased, thinking he could go back to campus and sleep until tomorrow, used to rejecting the few flirting attempts that were thrown his way.
Perhaps it was this hyper-awareness after hearing Jim actually telling him how much he needed him, but it was the first time Bones noticed how he kept coming back to him no matter how far away in the bar he went and no matter how many people were around him. He’d always come back, sit beside him, pat his back, share a joke, even wink at him if he was cheerful enough and go away for a while to repeat the process again and again.
Like the Earth around its axis, like a sailor to his compass, Jim would always come back to him to find himself and the path laid out before him, and the one thing that made it right was that it was the same for Bones, because by steadying Jim he balanced himself, because they still had a long way before them and they would trek over it together.
Bones sat there, watching him from afar until Jim decided it was time to go and surrounded his shoulders with an arm, “Ready to go, Bones?”
“Yeah,” he said, taking advantage of the fact Jim was not directly looking at him and that it was pretty dark outside to smile into the night, “Let’s go home, Jim.”
Almost like a flashback, he encircled Jim’s waist with an arm. Jim leaned into him and a happy sound erupted from his throat, filling the quietness with such pure joy that he couldn’t help but smile harder.
They didn’t let go of each other until they reached their dorm.