Work Text:
Nothing - not losing Jocelyn, not being forced into Starfleet, absolutely nothing except for maybe losing custody of his daughter, Joanna - quite compares to the pain that Leonard felt as he stared down at Jim Kirk’s lifeless body.
At least when he lost Joanna, he didn’t really lose her. He knew he would see his baby girl again.
But in that moment, Leonard knew that he would never see Jim again, at least not how he knew him. He would never see that sparkle in Jim’s eyes again, he would never see that stupid, beautiful smirk that he knew only meant trouble, he wouldn’t see his Jim ever again.
And it fucking tore him apart.
So, when Jim’s eyes snapped open and he pulled in his first breath with a loud gasp, waking up despite every law of medicine out there, it took every bit of self control that Leonard had left in his body not to burst out into broken sobs and press kisses all over Jim’s pale face and Spock’s presence might have been the only thing that really kept him from doing so.
Instead, Leonard pushed away that urge, held a tricorder to Jim’s face, and said, “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, you were barely dead.” Leonard does that a lot - pushes away his real feelings with forced sarcasm and mild frustration.
Jim just watched Leonard at first, confusion written in his features.
“It was the transfusion that really took its toll,” Leonard continued, as if he was answering a question that Jim never asked. “You were out cold for two weeks.”
“Transfusion?” Jim asked.
That’s all he could bring himself to say, even though a million things were running through his mind - questions, concerns, apologies . But his voice was weak, and he physically couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.
“You’re cells were heavily irradiated. We had no choice,” Leonard answers.
He tried to keep his eyes focused on the PADD where Jim’s vitals were displayed and away from those blue eyes he’s so happy to see open again. He was trying to make it seem like it was only another one of Jim’s visits to the MedBay after a mission gone awry and not what it actually was.
Leonard had broken the very oath he promised to uphold as a doctor by saving Jim, but he didn’t have to tell Jim that, at least not in that moment.
So, he continued with his medical examination, allowing Spock to step forward and speak with Jim. He stayed hidden behind a thin veil of professionalism up to the very moment that Spock stepped out of the room and the door slid shut.
Once they were alone, Jim met Leonard’s gaze again. He was slowly regaining his strength, finding it easier to form actual sentences, but all he said was, “Thank you, Bones.”
Jim could see so many emotions written in Leonard’s eyes - pain, concern, heartache, relief . And he knew that Leonard was feeling all of that because of him.
“You goddamn idiot ,” Leonard snapped, finally allowing himself to break.
“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered.
He knew that wasn’t enough. He knew that it was of no real comfort, but he did mean it, and he wasn’t sure what else he could say.
Leonard didn’t answer, instead giving into his earlier urge, and surging forward all too fast at first and then slower as he remembered Jim’s state to press his lips to his. His hand was rough on Jim’s warm cheek, and the tears he didn’t even remember shedding were dripping onto Jim’s skin, but Jim didn’t seem to mind. He kissed back as well as he could, parting his lips and putting all of what little strength he had into it. He wanted to tell Leonard through that kiss just how sorry he was for putting him through everything he did.
Leonard’s lips still brushed against Jim’s as he pulls away just far enough to whisper, “Don’t you ever leave me like that again, Jim.”
Jim shook his head ever so slightly, eyes still squeezed shut as he fought his own tears. “I won’t,” he promised.