Fic: Two Summers, 2-4
“How’s everything been lately?”
Jim shrugs.
“Okay. No attacks. I think they’re over for good now.”
“Keep those hyposprays nearby just in case. I’m still monitoring your condition.”
Jim nods. He remembers his question.
“How’s Nyota?”
Bones frowns.
“Why’re you asking me?”
“I want to know how she’s doing. She keeps getting headaches.”
The doctor looks at him intently, like he hadn’t expected that to come out of Jim’s mouth.
“You thought I wouldn’t notice?”
“Want me to be honest?”
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“Look, I might not be the most observant person-that was Spock-but I know something’s up. And I know she just grits her teeth and goes through her shift without saying anything to anyone.”
Still no reply.
“If this is about doctor-patient confidentiality, I can make it a command concern. She wants to do her duty, but that doesn’t help me if she’s not in top form. Sooner or later, it’ll become a liability.”
Bones watches Jim like he’s evaluating him. He seems to come to a decision about something.
“This is off the record.”
“Fine.”
“She hasn’t been sleeping well lately.”
There’s more. It’s all over Bones’ face. Jim goes for the easier question first.
“You don’t have any meds?”
“Aint something that can be fixed with a pill, Jim.”
Shit.
“Tell me,” he demands. “Does she need time off? Have I been pushing her too fast?”
Bones nods.
“It wouldn’t hurt to ease up on her for a little while. Nyota’s been taking everything as hard as you, and she got the added stress of all her new responsibilities.”
“Got it. I’ll see what I can do.”
It won’t be easy, but he’s already moving the roster around in his head to give his commander some time.
There’s that expression. Bones is still holding back.
“Tell me.”
“You sure you want to know?”
It’s not really a question.
“Yeah,” Jim steels himself. “Yeah, I want to know.”
The silence and Bones’ gaze are getting to him.
“Fuck Bones, I won’t break. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
His best friend snorts, a wry smile on his face.
“Hell forbid that James T. Kirk can’t handle anything the goddamn universe throws at him.”
There’s an edge to the words that catches Jim off balance.
“What?”
Silence. Then, something snaps.
“What do you want me to say, Jim? That she feels like she’ll never measure up to Spock? That sometimes she’s terrified that she’ll fail in the line of duty? That she and Scotty are having a hell of a time adjusting, summer be damned?
“Nyota’s a strong woman, but she was never interested in getting into command track until you and Spock started training her up. Now she’s feeling the exact weight of all the goddamn responsibility that falls on her and don’t get me wrong-most of the time, she manages beautifully. You couldn’t’ve chosen a better First to take Spock’s place.
“But it gets to her, Jim. It’d get to anyone, being promoted like that. Add to it all the fact that that her best friend of I don’t know how many years died? We hardly got any time to catch our goddamn breaths before Starfleet started sending us out on heavy duty missions again.”
A pause.
Jim waits.
Bones looks away from him.
“And, in the middle of it all, your heart gave out on us.”
For some reason, hearing that’s like a punch to the gut.
Bones closes his eyes, standing there as if he’s gone back to that first moment when Jim fell out of the command chair, clutching his heart, gasping for breath. Then he seems to gather himself and shake the memory off. His voice is quiet and low.
“I’m telling this to you now because you’re showing definite signs of recovery. But for a while, we were all holding our breaths, watching you simultaneously fall apart and keep yourself together,” Bones inhales sharply. “And no one knew how to reach you.”
There’s a deep pain in his best friend’s voice that makes Jim’s chest tighten.
He looks. The muscles of Bones’ jaw are tense. There’s a sheen of moisture in his eyes.
In the reflection of his grief, Jim can see his crew. He can see their fear that he wouldn’t survive Spock’s death, that in one way or another, he would leave them to follow the trail of Spock’s dark heart.
They tried, as best as they could, to stand by him and help him through the worst of it, to be the steady presence he needed. They knew they could never fill Spock’s place, that they would fall short every time. But they gave-they were still giving-everything they had, despite the fact that they were hurting as much as he was.
Grief, as much as it brought them together, almost shattered them. The knowledge of that stabs at him, but he pushes it aside. There’s only one real way to make up for it.
“How’re you holding up?” Jim asks.
Silence.
“I’m holding up, Jim,” a pause. “I’m holding up. I’ve been better, and I’ve been worse too.”
Bones looks him straight in the eyes. The tears are still lurking, but they don’t fall.
“We understood, Jim. You needed time, you lost a bondmate. It’s hell on Vulcans-it’s hell on humans. Aint nothing easy about it for anyone.”
Jim doesn’t reply. He and Bones fall into silence.
Bones knows about the pain of separation. Not the same kind as Jim’s feeling now, but it’s still a separation. From what he knows, the divorce was vicious. It left pock marks on his best friend’s heart.
And, Jim reminds himself, Bones and Spock were close friends too. They had a strange dynamic, almost like a rivalry between brothers, but there was no doubt that they would die for each other.
Another separation.
The death of Spock has been separating everyone, splintering them. Like this silence they’ve been sitting in.
Fuck it. It’s time he change that.
“You know, we never play cards together anymore.”
Bones gives him a look.
“Cards, Jim? Sometimes I wonder what on God’s green earth is going through that brain of yours.”
“Good luck figuring it out,” he grins. “Spock tried, then swore he’d never try again.”
“Why’m I not surprised.”
Jim laughs, the sound full and free. None of this is particularly funny. Doesn’t matter. He laughs because he can.
Bones looks really amused.
“So, you got a free shift sometime?”
“You bet your sorry ass I do.”
“I’ll grab a space at the Rec Room, just the seven of us.”
“Want me to bring anything?”
“If you want. Tell Chris, yeah?”
“Sure thing, Jim.”
“Great. I’ll send a message around when I get the rosters figured out.”
He moves to leave. Bones stops him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“Jim.”
His best friend’s got a smile on his face, a light in his eyes.
It’s fucking good to see.
And it’ll be good to hang out with the crew again, even if it’s going to be painful. The tension, the awkwardness, the uncertainty-
Bones searches his face. Jim doesn’t hide from the question in his eyes.
Because this first round of cards is going to be harsh. Memories will come up. He’s creating a setup for emotional compromise and in the process, he’s going to majorly compromise himself. Get ripped wide all over again.
That scares the shit out of him. But he’ll do it anyway because it’s necessary. Because this limbo they’re in, this fragmentation that happened after death took everyone out of commission, really sucks. They need to move past the loss, reestablish the balance in the group, find another dynamic.
Jim’s going to put it in motion. Why? Because he might be the only one who can do it. Spock was Jim’s center, but Jim’s the reason why the seven of them all came together in the first place.
So he’s doing this. The decision’s made.
Bones nods.
“Thanks.”
Jim has no idea what Bones saw in his face and he doesn’t ask. He smiles and shrugs.
“No problem.”