and wasn't it a long way down? [open-ish]

[goldn_boy]

WHO Jim Kirk (TOS) and OPEN-ish
WHAT Hunger week and magic windows are not mixy things
WHERE Around, mostly CGM
WHEN This week; days in comments
NOTES There are threads for specific days; feel free to tag wherever you think your character would be likely to or make a new one. Multiple threads welcome, etc. Sorry about the tl;dr! Contact me if you

Comments

Thursday evening

[doctornota]

Something was up with Jim. You didn't have to be a damned psychologist to pick up on that - that McCoy was only made it that much more obvious. The eating, the hiding: it just wasn't his friend. And yeah, he wasn't his Jim, but he was still his friend. He knocked at Jim's door, then, after work, still in his suit and tie, though the jacket was gone, the tie was loose, and the shirtsleeves were rolled up.

"You in?"

[goldn_boy]

Apparently space psychology translated to terra firma--Bones was right. Jim's McCoy would have connected the food to Tarsus, knowing at least (from medical records, even if Kodos hadn't reared his head again a few years ago) the general outline. But he wasn't here, and Jim wasn't expecting anyone to check in on him. Not with the things he was seeing, not with the new, shiny, younger Jim Kirk in town, not with the distractions crowding Jim's attention.

He opened the door, his surprise muted but evident. "Oh, Bones," he said, trying to be casual, to focus. "Um, different look for you."

[doctornota]

Leonard crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, the movement casual but its intentions anything but: he was blocking the path of the door, making it impossible for Jim to shut the door. "Just got off work, haven't had time to change," he replied. "Haven't seen you around a lot lately."

[goldn_boy]

Jim was no stranger to body language. He could see easily what McCoy was doing, and wondered what was going on.

"No," he said slowly. "I've been busy. Did you need something?"

[doctornota]

"Nah, told you. Haven't seen you a lot lately. Just checkin' in." He shrugged a shoulder. "Figured I'd stop in, say hey."

[goldn_boy]

He wasn't moving. Just standing there. "Well, you must have been busy, too. I mean, with, ah, Jim in town."

"In town." Like he was here for a visit.

[doctornota]

"No busier than usual. He's a handful, but I'm his CMO, not his babysitter." That wasn't right either, that stillness. Kirks were active.

[goldn_boy]

So what am I to you? The thought wasn't characteristic of Jim, and he didn't voice it. "And his friend," he said. "You must have had a lot to catch up on."

He washed his hand over his face. There was a world where George Kirk had never known his son. There had to be a world where Jim Kirk never existed. Even if the window was a trick. George Kirk had died, and nothing much had changed. Who was to say the world might not have been better, without Jim?

[doctornota]

"Not for him. We didn't talk too much when he first got in; he was tired." He watched Jim intently, hazel eyes taking in every detail. Tired. Physical as well as mental. But why, and why so much? Sure, Jim was tired a lot, but it never manifested itself as such weariness. "It'll keep. Things been busy on the force?"

[goldn_boy]

"Yeah, I guess I cornered him," Jim said. Keeping him up with his pointless curiosity, his obsessive self-involvement. When he had his real friends to go to. Jim's eyes narrowed. "You asking as my doctor?"

[doctornota]

"I'm asking as your friend." Extra emphasis on that last word there, making it clear that yes, even with the appearance of 'his' Jim, this Jim still mattered to him. "All right?"

[goldn_boy]

Jim wondered if he was being that obvious, and his frowned slightly. He didn't want to put this on anyone else--it was his problem, his weakness. He didn't need to take it out on anyone else.

"All right," he said. "And yes. It has. I..." Jim rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Bones. I don't mean to be short. I just... it's been a rough week."

[doctornota]

"You wanna," goddammit, he hated saying this, it sounded so much like one of those stock psychologist lines, "talk about it? Can't hurt, right?"

[goldn_boy]

Jim hesitated, the certainties of the last few days at war with the need he always felt for companionship, contact. Part of his brain told him McCoy was just being nice, and part needed him. Still another part berated him for needing anything.

"Come in," he said, just keeping himself from adding "if you want" because it sounded needy and passive and he wasn't sure where all this was coming from. He stepped back into the room, which was less dirty or messy than untidy. "There's nothing much to talk about," he said, turning around and gesturing to the chairs. "But it's nice to see you. Can I get you something?"

[doctornota]

"Nah, I'm all right." He'd had a late lunch - appointments always seemed to run long at lunchtime - so he knew he wouldn't really need or want anything for a while yet. "So what's going on on the force, then?"

[goldn_boy]

Jim had to force himself to think about work. Especially considering he was using it as an excuse.

"The usual," he said. "More so." He sat, absently picking up a cookie from the box on the table. He ate it absently, too, with no indication he took pleasure in the act, or really noticed it. "Doesn't really ever end, in a place like this. It's like being in the dark ages, I swear, Bones."