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Bones’ head was pillowed on Jim’s stomach, right hand resting on Jim’s chest, breaths coming out long and slow. Jim counted the gaps between each inhalation and exhalation like a form of meditation, arms wrapped carefully around his friend so as not to wake him.
It’d been common for him to fall asleep on or near Bones late at night in their shared dorm back at the Academy, but never once had he remembered Bones doing the same with him.
This was new, different. Neither of them had been drinking. It wasn’t late, just a little over an hour after shift’s end. Bones hadn’t even had a busy day, as far as Jim knew. He’d just come in, sat down next to Jim on the couch without a word, and fallen asleep on him sometime before he had finished authorizing reports.
Not that Jim minded. Bones’ weight on him was comforting, the warmth between them safe and relaxing.
But he couldn’t explain it.
* * *
“Beautiful, huh, Bones?”
“If you like admiring things that can kill you.”
Bones’ tone was inscrutable, his voice hardly sounding like his own with how detached it came out.
“Well, I admire you every day, don’t I?” Jim joked, trying to lighten a mood he hadn’t realized was so heavy before he’d come in.
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
Jim leaned against the bulkhead, surreptitiously side-eyeing his friend. Bones had been moodier than usual, isolating, even acting aloof. He kept catching him spending time in places on the ship he never used to be comfortable in or just flat out refused to visit, like sitting in lesser-used hallways in the bowels of the Enterprise, an empty corner of the shuttle bay, random Jeffries tubes, or in this case, the observation deck.
“So, if you’re not here to enjoy the view, what are you doing, Bones?” Jim asked carefully.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t enjoying it,” Bones replied, flat.
It was painfully clear he wasn’t interested in talking. Jim fell silent and chose not to push for more.
Bones almost always retreated when he felt he was being pressured to share things he didn’t want to. If Jim wanted to be confided in, he’d have to make himself approachable to the man.
But he had no idea what could’ve been bothering his friend. Nothing had changed in their routine two and a half years into their five year mission. Until semi-recently, Bones had even been complaining less about things in general, joking more, adopting a relaxed demeanor in his life aboard the ship, though no less responsible in his role as CMO.
It didn’t make sense.
And Jim was worried about him.
* * *
Spock was deep in concentration, scanning the board between them with the same intensity he brought to diplomatic negotiations or any command decision he had to make. Jim didn’t have half the same focus and was losing their match badly.
“Do you feel like Bones has been acting kind of… different, lately?” Jim ventured, watching as Spock’s eyebrow twitched.
The Vulcan took his time answering, plucking a pawn from its position and moving it one space forward. An innocuous piece to use, but knowing Spock, there was an endgame.
“I have noticed a marked decrease in his efficiency, as well as an unsociability he did not seem to possess three point two weeks ago. I had assumed he was simply going through a phase, so to speak, but it seems to persist.”
“So I’m not crazy.”
“No, Jim,” Spock answered confidently. “I don’t believe you are.”
“I mean about this, specifically.”
His XO met Jim’s gaze with something almost akin to mild amusement. “Yes, I know.
Though I have no comment on your sanity as it comes to other situations.”
Jim smiled, just a little, but he couldn’t bring himself to really feel at ease enough to actually enjoy their usual pastime or laugh at Spock’s joke, all his thoughts on Bones.
“Captain,” Spock spoke again and Jim glanced back at him, attention recaptured by the use of his title. “Have you attempted to speak with him directly about your concerns?”
“No, not yet. I figured he’d just clam up even more.”
“Perhaps it is worth a try.”
Jim sighed and slumped even further into his chair. “Yeah, probably.”
* * *
Bones gave him a long hard look, seemingly paralyzed with his PADD in his hand halfway between the desk and where he’d shot up from being slumped against the bulkhead when the door swished open.
Jim gave him a quizzical quirk of a brow. Bones unfroze, dropped the device onto the desk (threw it, more like), and shoved past him into the main area of sickbay.
“Bones?” Jim called, following him.
“Yeah, Jim?” Bones said, like it was some call and response game they always played when Jim visited him.
“Was that you, uh… resting your eyes while you were leaning against that wall?”
“Sort of. Maybe. Not really.”
“I’m confused.”
“Yeah, me, too. Why are you here?” Bones kept his back to Jim, busying himself with tapping on various monitors around the room, collecting loose hyposprays, and just generally (and very obviously) willing Jim to go away.
“I’m checking on you.”
“I’m the one who checks on you, Jim. Remember all the times I’ve hung around the bridge and shot the shit with you?”
“Sure, Bones, in vague, distant memories. You haven’t been up there in ages. What’s going on?”
A bundle of hyposprays abruptly made their escape from Bones’ arms to the floor below, making a loud clattering sound in the sickbay. Bones hurriedly crouched and began gathering them again. Frowning, Jim kneeled beside him to help.
“Jim, everything’s fine. Just go back to the bridge and pretend to be in charge. Spock loves it when you order him around.”
Bones’ attempt at humor fell flat. Jim held out the last hypospray, sure his concern was written all over his face, especially when Bones snatched it from Jim’s hand and stood so fast he seemed to get dizzy, swaying in place for a long moment.
“Bones?” Jim quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Bones’ arm, trying to steady him.
“Fine, Jim,” Bones repeated faintly, gaze slightly unfocused.
“Bones.”
“Chapel, a little help?”
Christine popped her head around a corner, her inquiring look instantly sharpening to understanding when she saw her CMO.
“I can put those away, Doctor,” she said in a businesslike tone, walking over to assist. Jim narrowed his eyes at her, but she ignored him entirely as she held out one hand for the hypos and placed the other on Bones’ shoulder.
Jealousy made a very sudden and very unexpected appearance in Jim’s chest, spreading outward from there through his whole body like a weed. But it still wasn’t enough to overtake the ever-growing anxiety over his best friend’s odd behavior.
* * *
Hours later, the door opened, then closed, footsteps making their way through to Jim’s living area. Jim sat up on the couch as Bones came into view, looking uncharacteristically disquieted, a touch of guilt in his expression. He was still in uniform, his hair unkempt, face pale, arms hanging uselessly.
He almost looked like a child who’d been scolded and felt resentful of it. The thought was so ridiculous and yet Bones seemed so grim that Jim couldn’t help but stare at him in uncertain silence.
“Well?” Bones bit out, not quite meeting Jim’s gaze.
Jim shrugged helplessly. “Not a mind reader, Bones.”
Bones huffed and crossed his arms, agitation clear in his defensiveness.
“You tryin’ to say you haven’t hacked my PADD yet?”
Jim blinked in surprise. “‘Course I’ve hacked your PADD before, Bones, but that was back at the Academy. Why would I hack it now?“
“For fuck’s sake,” Bones muttered, uncrossing his arms to drag his hands down his face as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The one fucking time I actually want you to be invasive and you’re not.”
Jim stood, alarm spiking in his chest.
“Bones, seriously, what’s going on with you?”
“I did everyone’s physicals the other week.” Bones kept his face hidden behind his hands, head bowed, voice muffled.
“Yeah? And?” Jim prompted carefully. “You reported everyone was just fine.”
“Yeah…”
“Bones,” Jim said again, a hint of warning in his tone as he braced for what could only be bad news.
“Except for me,” he finished, finally letting his hands fall to clench into fists at his sides.
Jim’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
“I’m sick.”
“Why?” The word was out before he could stop it, as though he were protesting some unfair punishment from a parent.
“It’s terminal,” Bones said fast, and then, “Please don’t be mad.”
Jim’s mouth fell open, every rational thought leaving him in a rush as it was replaced with complete devastation.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t happening.”
“Jim, I—”
“There’s a cure, right?”
For the first time, Bones actually met his gaze, a depth of sorrow in his hazel eyes that Jim had never seen there before. He slowly shook his head.
“There isn’t. I’m really sorry. I’ve been tryin’ to figure out how to tell you for ages.”
“No. No, no, no.”
That was the only word Jim seemed capable of speaking. His legs suddenly gave out and he sat back hard on the couch, breathing shaky, digging his nails into his palms just to ground himself in the physical pain.
After several moments, the cushion dipped next to him and a warm hand came to rest on his shoulder.
“Anything I can do to help you during this trying time?” Bones asked, tone dry.
“Bones,” Jim said sharply, refusing to look at him. “How can you joke about this? It’s the worst news I’ve ever — you’ve ever gotten.”
Bones sighed. “No, Jim. Worst news I ever got was when you died.”
The tears Jim hadn’t realized were threatening to spill finally did.
“You have to find a cure, Bones. You have to. We’ll figure this out.”
Jim felt Bones’ wordless shrug.
“We’ll do what we can, Jim.”
* * *
The next day on the bridge saw Jim distant and distracted. More than once, he felt Spock’s eyes on him, then Uhura’s as she picked up on the grief in the air. The weight on his shoulders, pressing in on his chest, made him feel as though he couldn’t breathe.
He was acutely aware of Bones, several decks down and too far away, carrying on as he always did. He could sense Bones’ worry for him, even in the midst of his own (much bigger) problems. Jim was hardly surprised when a message came across the screen of his PADD.
LHM: u ok?
JTK: No
JTK: How long do you have?
LHM: on average, its anywhera from 6 mths to a yr
JTK: Can I tell Spock?
JTK: Maybe he could help
LHM: if u want
LHM: but i dont want him botherig me when im working
JTK: Okay
Jim set his PADD aside and looked up to find the Vulcan already watching him, dark gaze closed off in that way he always did when he was bracing to hear something he’d have to regulate his emotions over.
“Spock, could I see you in my ready room?”
“Yes, Captain.”
Spock was on his feet and walking there before Jim had even spun his chair in the right direction.
Minutes later, his reaction to the news was just as Jim expected: his posture became stiff to the point it must’ve been uncomfortable as he moved his hands behind his back, every part of him an expressionless mask.
“Request permission to confer with Doctor McCoy and begin research immediately.” Spock’s voice was as cold as Jim had ever heard it, but he knew it was because of the depth of worry he was trying to hide.
“Granted.”
It only occurred to Jim after Spock had left that he hadn’t even thought to ask Bones just what disease he was dying from.
* * *
The woman was unfairly beautiful, graceful, friendly, and instantly taken with the doctor. She wanted him to stay. Jim was furious.
“Bones, that freak wants to marry you and watch you slowly die,” he hissed as he dragged his friend to an empty corner where the guards (probably) couldn’t hear them.
Bones let himself be led, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “Jim, her name is Natira, not freak. Secondly, I haven’t even decided if I’m staying yet. And third, quit jumping to conclusions. You don’t know that she’s not trustworthy.”
“She’s been making heart eyes at you the entire ten minutes we’ve been here. And why the hell would I trust her when she wants to take you away from me and—”
“Jim, would you relax? Everything’s going to be fine.”
”Have we fucking switched personalities?” Jim asked incredulously. “I want you back on the ship. Now.”
Bones planted his feet and leveled him with his signature ‘shut up and listen to me’ glare.
“Jim, I’m serious. Trust me. Everything’s going to be fine.” When Jim groaned in frustration and made to turn back around, Bones took his upper arms with both hands in a strong grip to keep him from moving away. “Let me stay a little longer. I can at least distract her while you and Spock snoop around.”
His hazel gaze had become earnest, genuine, almost… soft. Jim felt himself giving in before any words to respond with came to mind. Bones seemed to understand. He gave Jim the softest of smiles and a gentle squeeze of his arms.
“It’ll be fine,” he repeated. “You’ll see.”
* * *
“Are you in love with him, Captain?”
Jim’s head whipped around to look at Spock, mouth falling open. The Vulcan was still examining the data records they’d found in the secret room, fingers lightly brushing over the various materials on the shelves, open curiosity on his face.
“Uh, what? I — excuse me? No!” Jim spluttered, cheeks heating up as his thoughts immediately diverted from their next steps and the reports he’d have to write to the warmth he’d seen in Bones’ eyes just earlier that same day.
Spock’s mouth twitched upwards at the corners. “I did not specify to whom I was referring, Jim.”
Jim glanced away, internally cursing himself for the slip up. “Well, that could apply to anyone. I’m not in love.”
“So Doctor McCoy is only a close personal friend, as I am?”
“Of course, Spock. You’re both important to me.”
“I was not doubting our friendship, Jim,” Spock responded mildly, plucking a record tape out from the midst of a grouping of others. “I am merely suggesting you consider that he might mean more to you than you realize.”
Spock was right, of course. Jim had known for a long time what he wanted and, very recently, learned just how badly he wanted it. But he wasn’t willing to admit it, not then.
“What do you have there?” Jim asked, desperate for a topic change.
“I believe…” Spock trailed off, looking at it intently, brows furrowing. Jim waited with bated breath, stepping closer, the smallest flicker of hope sparking within him. “A possibility, Captain.”
* * *
Bones could’ve taken his daily injections of the cure virtually anywhere on the ship, so he chose his quarters. When Jim demanded he get to be there for it, Bones had surprisingly acquiesced without complaint and even suggested he just come to Jim’s quarters for it instead, “since I’m there most of the damn time anyway.”
So it was on Jim’s couch that Bones sat the following night, looking relaxed and unbothered while Jim anxiously chewed his nails as though he’d never seen Bones on the receiving end of a hypospray before. Christine positioned it against his neck, pushed the plunger down with a quiet hiss, replaced it in her medkit when it was emptied, and left with a nod.
Jim blinked.
Bones rubbed the spot she’d chosen, flashing a knowing smile at him.
“Thought it was gonna be a whole production, didn’t ya, Jimmy?”
“Well… kind of, yeah,” Jim admitted sheepishly.
“It’s just two hyposprays a day for a week. Practically nothing.”
“How can you be so calm about all of this? I’ve been losing sleep over it for… ages,” Jim finished slowly as he realized he’d mistakenly told the truth.
Bones stilled, smile slowly turning to a frown. “How long have you not been sleeping well, Jim?”
Jim shrugged and stood, making his way to the cabinet he stored the brandy in. “A few weeks, give or take.”
“A few weeks? Jim, I didn’t tell you I was sick until a few days ago. What’s been bothering you?”
For a moment, the clinking of the bottle against a glass, then the pouring of liquid were the only sounds in the room. Jim only made one for himself, since Bones was on a strict diet until he got better.
“Jim.” Bones’ voice was in his ear without warning and he startled, nearly spilling the drink. “What’s wrong?”
“I was just…” Jim swirled the brandy, staring down into it as he thought of some way to phrase his thoughts in such a ways that wouldn’t make it sound like he was utterly, wholly, pathetically in love with his best friend. “Worried about you. You were acting different. I didn’t know what was going on. I… missed you.”
Swing and a miss, especially with the slight waver in his tone near the end that he couldn’t seem to help.
Bones’ hand snaked past Jim to take the glass from him and set it down on the desk.
“Jim, would ya look at me? Please?”
“Bones, I can’t…” Jim trailed off with a frustrated shake of his head, feeling incapable of expressing himself and simultaneously not sure he even wanted to.
“Can’t what?” Bones’ voice was gentle. “Come on, Jim. Just talk to me.”
Irritation mixed with anger at the injustice of it all, that there was so much as a chance that his friend, his Bones, could’ve been taken away from him, that he was forced to come face to face with the depth of his own feelings at the same time he might’ve lost the man they were directed towards.
“Seriously, how can you be so fucking calm? You were dying, Bones!” Jim turned to face him, his tone accusatory, hurt. “You were dying. And you were avoiding me, hiding from me, wasting precious time we didn’t have together. Do you know how fucking lonely that was? How much I—”
“Jim, just fucking kiss me already,” Bones breathed out, his expression almost in awe, hopeful and disbelieving all at once. It was the exact look Jim would’ve expected him to have in reaction to finding out there was a cure for his disease, not to Jim’s rant.
“What?” Jim said dumbly.
“Kiss me.”
He quickly recovered and fisted both hands in Bones’ uniform, pulling him into a rough, searing imitation of a kiss, their mouths colliding with no coordination whatsoever. Jim moaned into it anyway and Bones wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist to bring him closer.
It was a minute or two before they finally broke apart, gasping for air, their foreheads coming to rest against the other’s as Bones rubbed his back soothingly.
“I’m sorry, Jim,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have pulled away. That wasn’t fair to you.”
“I’m just being selfish.”
Bones chuckled fondly. “I like it when you’re selfish with me, Jimmy. I’ve wondered for ages if you might’a felt the same way about me.”
“Bones,” Jim practically whined. “Duh.”
He snorted and then they were kissing again and life was perfect.
* * *
Bones’ head was pillowed on Jim’s stomach, legs tangled with Jim’s, breaths coming out long and slow. Jim counted the gaps between each inhalation and exhalation like a form of meditation, arms wrapped carefully around his boyfriend so as not to wake him.
Jim smiled to himself, grateful and content.
He’d never let him go again.