Fic: From the Ashes (1/2)
Title: “From the Ashes” (1/2)
Fandoms: Star Trek: AOS
Characters/Pairings: Bones/Kirk, Spock, Joanna McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Word Count: c. 10,000 total
Warnings: Language, injuries, fluff, kidfic, hurt/comfort.
Summary: Jim faces a long recovery after being badly injured on an away mission. Leonard and Joanna look after him.
Notes: This isn’t intended to be related to “Gently Into the Night,” but you are welcome to read it that way if you wish to up the angst factor. Joanna McCoy is the creation of DeForest Kelley and D.C. Fontana. Two lines of dialogue were taken from TOS's "City on the Edge of Forever." You may need to suspend disbelief in regards to the medical aspects of the story.
Jim Kirk had been drunk off his ass many times during his years at the Academy, but only once had he been blindingly inebriated.
It had been his birthday, that much he knew, but he could never remember what it was that set him off, let alone why that birthday should have been different from all the others that came before it. Maybe one of his professors had unexpectedly played the Kelvin tapes in lecture; maybe someone had made an offhand comment about his father. Maybe it was something completely unrelated to George Kirk and his sacrifice, but somehow Jim’s mind made the connection anyway.
Whatever the reason, Jim’s recollection of the day stopped around dinnertime. When he next became aware of himself, he was sitting on a pier in Monterey with a broken nose, dried blood on his shirt that wasn’t entirely his own, and a headache so monstrous he was begging passersby to lop his head off. Three days had passed without his being aware of them.
Bones was the one who found him, as he always did. He had stood there on the pier looking down at Jim for a long time, arms crossed, almost shaking with rage. He was ashen under his tan and his lips were white and thin. For a brief moment, Jim thought he was actually going to be granted his wish about decapitation. But Bones had finally hauled him to his feet, gotten his ass back to San Francisco, and confined him to the Academy’s medical bay for the weekend out of spite. Jim had accepted the punishment with none of his usual ribbing, for he had never before seen Bones so furious. It had been exceedingly unsettling.
He looked like that now, Jim thought as he blinked himself awake in Enterprise’s medical bay, vision hazy and blurred with all of the medication that had been pumped into his veins. Bones was pale, his mouth was a thin line, and his expression was a mix of terror and fury that didn’t go away entirely when he noticed Jim looking up at him, even though he did try to work his face into something vaguely resembling neutral professionalism.
“Tell you something, Jim,” Bones said gruffly after a long silence where they simply stared at one another, “I’m dog-tired of patching your sorry ass up.”
He pulled the sensor probe out of his medical tricorder and started to scan Jim’s legs. Jim blinked rapidly several times, trying to clear his sleep-blurred vision, narrowing his eyes against the harsh assault of the lights overhead. There was lot of activity going on around him, much more than was normal for the medical bay. He could pick out at least seven distinct conversations between different groups of doctors and nurses. There must have been a number of casualties.
“Bad news first,” Bones said brusquely as he set the scanner aside. “You took a hell of a pounding, Jim. You almost lost both your legs, and that punctured lung took me ages to repair. Breathing’s going to be a right pain for a while, and can I just say that it serves you right.”
His words were short and clipped, delivered on quick bursts of air that betrayed his agitation. Severe lines had etched themselves into his face around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes, and his brows were creased in worry.
“There are numerous cuts and bruises, but they’ll heal on their own. You had a concussion, and suffered damage to your spinal cord that nearly paralyzed you.” Bones’ eyes were hard chips of ice. “That wasn’t the case, however, needless to say. You’ll recover fully, given enough time. But I need you to stay off your feet for a couple of weeks, Jim, and I am not kidding. One wrong move and you could complicate your injuries while they’re healing and make things worse. This time, medical leave means medical leave. Do I make myself clear?”
Jim found he had the strength only to nod. Bones let out a breath.
“You’re a damned lucky son of a bitch, you know that?”
“No,” Jim rasped finally. “I just have an excellent doctor.”
He swallowed, wincing. Breathing alone was a chore; speaking was a battle. He felt as though a thin shroud had enveloped his mind, and the world around him was tinged with unreality. It was difficult to focus, and harder still to find the right words for his thoughts.
“And the good news?” he managed after a moment. He gave Bones a weak smile. “Could use some right about now.”
Bones’ face softened, but the deep lines never left.
“I’m not keeping you in here for a second longer than is necessary,” he said in a low, earnest voice. He leaned down on the pretense of administering another hypo to the side of Jim’s neck, and looked him in the eye. “Soon as I’m certain you’re completely out of danger, I’m bringing you back to my quarters. Figured you would be more comfortable there while you heal.”
Jim’s fingers twitched, the only response his hand gave to his brain’s instructions to move. Bones noticed, though, and he lightly brushed his fingertips across the back of Jim’s knuckles, the only outward sign of affection he dared give in the medical bay.
“Casualties?” Jim wheezed as Bones moved to check on the various equipment set up around the bed. Jim recognized only some of it--a heart monitor; a machine that displayed his vitals; an oxygen line in case he started having difficulty breathing.
“Five injured, but you were the worst,” Bones said. “And no, the Debnar didn’t end up firing on the ship. Seems that attacking our away team was enough. Spock gave ‘em hell for that, let me tell you.”
Jim relaxed, listening with half an ear to the rest of the story, because Bones had already answered the one question he didn’t know how to ask in public. Joanna was all right, then.
Bones’ little girl had been living on Enterprise for just over a year, ever since a fire back on Earth had claimed her mother’s life. Bones and his ex-wife had moved beyond their less-than-amicable divorce during Bones’ time at the Academy, and they had largely been on good terms with one another at the time of her passing.
“Spaceship ain’t no goddamn place to raise a kid,” Bones had said repeatedly in the wake of Jocelyn’s death, his words dejected, as though he was trying to convince himself that this was true. It largely was, Jim had to admit. He knew that Bones’ separation from his daughter ate at him like rust, but children and families weren’t allowed on Starfleet vessels for a reason.
Bones had traveled alone to Earth for Jocelyn’s funeral, and had intended at the time to also sort out the final details of Joanna’s planetside custody. But when he commed Enterprise less than twenty-four hours into his visit and requested a private vid call with the captain, Jim knew what it meant.
It meant that he was going to be pulling every string he had available to him--and many that he didn’t--in order to bring Joanna back to the ship with Bones.
It was either that, or risk losing them both.
Jim blinked, slowly coming back to himself, and realized that the room had darkened considerably since he last was aware of his surroundings. Bones was gone from his side, too, and Jim surmised that he must have drifted off. It was strange and disconcerting to not remember even falling asleep, let alone having been unconscious. Just a moment ago, it seemed, he had been thinking of Joanna.
A privacy curtain had been pulled around his bed, and Bones stepped around it. He had no doubt been alerted to Jim’s waking by the computer in his office, which was linked to each of the vital signs monitors that hung over every bed in the medical bay.
“All right, Jim?” Bones asked as he checked the readouts from the various bits of equipment hooked up to Jim. “Pain?”
“Yes to both,” Jim rasped, but gave Bones a reassuring smile to let him know that it was fine; he’d had worse.
Bones’ mouth was tight at the corners, a sign of his agitation at being so helpless in the face of Jim’s discomfort.
“It’s too soon for another round of painkillers,” he said. “I can get you a sleep aid.”
Jim shook his head and, when he tried to move his hand, this time found that it responded to his brain’s instructions. He touched Bones’ fingers, and Bones gently wrapped the hand in his own.
“Baby girl’s been asking for you,” he said in a low voice. “You missed pasta night.”
Jim felt an unexpected prickling behind his eyes, and blinked it away.
“Tell Jo I’ll be seeing her soon,” he whispered. Bones nodded and squeezed his hand.
“I gotta go check on the others,” he said softly. “Will you be all right?”
Jim swept his thumb across the underside of Bones’ wrist, the gesture as intimate as a kiss.
“I’ll be fine. Go.”
----
They brought Jim home six hours later.
If he had been any other patient, with the injuries he suffered, Leonard would have ordered him to remain in the medical bay for at least a week. But years of patching Jim up, both here on Enterprise and at the Academy, had taught Leonard that forcing Jim to spend that amount of time confined to a bed in the non-privacy of the medical bay would have only hindered his healing process.
Besides, Leonard could better look after Jim while at home, and it meant that he wouldn’t have to leave Joanna largely in the care of strangers during Jim’s recovery.
It took a team of four to move Jim to Leonard’s quarters. Leonard feared that using the transporter might complicate Jim’s delicate condition further, and so they had to move him by hand. Two orderlies handled the gurney while Leonard and Nurse Chapel moved all of the necessary monitoring equipment, some of which was still attached to Jim’s body. It was a long, awkward journey, compounded by the fact that even the slightest movement jostled Jim’s injuries. He bore the pain stoically, but by the time the group reached their destination, he was ashen and sweating profusely.
“Bedroom,” Leonard told the team as they stepped into his quarters. “I’ll be right there.”
Joanna was sitting on the sofa, a book in her lap, and she had been reading aloud to Lieutenant Harriman--her minder for the day--when the medical team came through the doors. She went quiet, watching the scene with narrowed eyes as she tried to figure out what was going on. She didn’t look frightened, which Leonard was glad of, but when her eyes fell on the medical equipment her face took on an expression of apprehension.
She knew what hospital equipment looked like, and what it meant.
Leonard dismissed Harriman with a nod and a quick thanks. He would have to thank her properly later on, once Jim was settled and Joanna’s mind put at ease.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said, coming to sit next to her on the sofa. “What’re you reading?”
“Who’s that?” she asked instead, not about to be sidetracked by her father’s innocent questioning.
“Remember when I told you that Uncle Jim couldn’t come visit because he was hurt real bad?” Leonard asked, and she nodded. “Well, he’s been getting better, so I brought him h - here.”
He stumbled on the last word, almost having said home instead.
“Is he gonna live with us?” was Joanna’s next question. Leonard shook his head, and felt an unexpected stab of regret in his chest.
“No, baby,” he said, smoothing a hand over her dark hair. “No, he just is staying with us until he gets better.”
“You’re gonna take care of him?”
Leonard gave her a smile.
“Yeah, I’m gonna take care of him.”
The medical team had settled Jim in Leonard’s bed, and they left him to make all the various adjustments to the equipment. He spent some time making sure everything was hooked up properly, and then checked in with Jim.
“You all right there, darlin’?” Leonard asked in a low voice, smoothing his knuckles over Jim’s stubbled cheek. He was barely conscious, a mix of medication and exhaustion keeping him just on the brink of sleep.
“Fine,” he murmured. “Jo?”
“Just a bit curious, that’s all. Not scared in the slightest.”
Jim nodded slowly.
“Good.”
Leonard leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss.
“I gotta go fix her some dinner. Press this button if you need me, all right?”
But Jim was already asleep.
For the most part, Joanna understood what was going on. She knew that Jim had been badly injured, and that he was going to stay with them until he was better. She understood that bad people had hurt him, and that they wouldn’t be coming back (Mr. Spock made sure of that). But the one thing she couldn’t understand was her father’s newest restriction. She had never before been barred from the bedroom during the day, and couldn’t understand why Leonard had suddenly cordoned off the room.
“Why can’t I go in?” Joanna asked, one hand fisted into Leonard’s trousers as she gazed up at him imploringly. The other held her favorite stuffed rabbit.
“Because Uncle Jim is sick, and he needs his rest,” Leonard explained patiently for the second time that evening. He was standing by the computer interface that was mounted on one wall in the main room, skimming over the afternoon’s reports from the medical bay. Normally, he would use the computer at his desk for this task, but his bedroom had doubled as his office ever since Joanna came aboard Enterprise, and he had no wish to disturb Jim right now.
“But I want to see him,” Joanna pointed out, as though this was a valid exception to her father’s no one can disturb Jim rule. Leonard shut down the interface.
“I know, Jo-jo,” he said, dropping into a crouch and looking her in the eye. “I know. But Uncle Jim’s asleep. You can see him later. I promise.”
Apparently, however, that was precisely the wrong thing to say. Joanna’s eyes welled, and she shrank back a little from her father. Leonard sat frozen, unsure of what he had done wrong.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he tried finally, and then repeated, “Uncle Jim’s fine, he’s just sleepin’ for a bit -”
“That’s what they said,” Joanna broke in quietly, “when Mama was hurt. An’ they wouldn’t let me see her.”
Leonard’s stomach bottomed out, and he cursed inwardly. Of course, he should have known that would be the wrong thing to say to Joanna, whose questions and fears had been stymied last year by incompetent doctors and helpless family friends, none of whom wanted to tell her the truth about her mother’s passing without informing her father first. And Leonard had never quite forgiven himself for that fiasco, even though there was nothing he could have done about Enterprise’s radio silence. They had been mapping a nebula when the fire back in Georgia claimed Jocelyn’s life. Leonard found out about the accident three days later, when interference had cleared enough for communication to be possible with Earth once again.
Joanna had gone three days without news, without hearing from her father or seeing her mother, and had spent it all in the care of near-strangers who didn’t know how to act around her. Leonard wasn’t going to chance such a nightmare happening again.
And Joanna deserved better than this.
“Okay,” he said finally, and Joanna’s eyes widened. “All right, baby girl, I’ll take you to see him. But Uncle Jim is very sick, remember that. You have to be careful with him.”
Joanna nodded solemnly, and Leonard pushed himself to his feet. He held out his hand, and Joanna latched onto the ends of his fingers.
She was quiet as Leonard led her to the bedroom, and when he opened the door she seemed reluctant to step across the threshold. But she wasn’t tall enough to see Jim on the bed, and when Leonard released her hand she took a few uncertain steps forward, craning her neck.
Leonard padded over to the bed and checked the monitoring equipment. Jim’s condition hadn’t changed since he was first brought in six hours ago--his pulse was steady, if weak, and his breathing was shallow. It wasn’t dangerous, but it certainly wasn’t optimal, either.
The room, in just a few hours, had taken on the sickly-sweet smell Leonard had come to associate with hospital rooms of the very ill. A thin trace of antiseptic cut through the air every now and again, buffeted by a light breeze from the ventilation system.
“Come here.” Leonard sat down next to Jim’s still form and reached out for Joanna. She came readily into his arms, and he lifted her onto the bed. “See? Uncle Jim’s just sleeping, like I said.”
Joanna still appeared dubious. She watched Jim’s face for a long while, her brows furrowed, and then said, “He’s not moving.”
She sounded impossibly terrified, and her hands had curled into fists, gripping her stuffed animal so tightly Leonard feared she might rip it.
“No, no, baby, it’s all right,” Leonard tried to quickly reassure. “See?”
He reached out and placed a hand on Jim’s chest. The other man’s breathing was shallow, and thus barely discernible in the dim light of the room, but it was noticeable when touching his chest. Joanna copied him, her tiny hand dwarfed by her father’s brawny one. After a moment, her expression cleared, and she relaxed fully when Jim coughed in his sleep a few seconds later.
Leonard gave her a reassuring smile.
“And here, feel this.” He took her tiny hand in his and pressed two of her fingers just under Jim’s jaw, right over his pulse-point. “Know what that is? It’s Uncle Jim’s heartbeat. He’s sleepin’, and he’s gonna be just fine.”
“Promise?”
Leonard leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“I promise, baby girl.”
----
Leonard slept on a cot in his bedroom for the first night of Jim’s stay. He didn’t want to risk accidentally rolling into Jim at some point during the night, as they were now used to reaching for one another whenever they shared a bed. More often than not, they woke in the morning as a tangle of limbs, but that wouldn’t do right now with Jim’s injuries.
Neither of them slept very much that night. Jim was up every few hours due to the pain, and Leonard generally woke only a few seconds after he did.
He treated Jim’s discomfort with various painkillers. He also had a number of hyposprays filled with medicine to ease Jim’s breathing and to help along his healing legs. Sometimes combinations of those medications prevented certain painkillers from being used on him, and Leonard had to improvise. What worked on the pain at one point might not work three hours later.
“Dunno how you do it,” Jim murmured groggily towards 0500. It was the fourth time they had woken that night, and Leonard’s head was beginning to pound with lack of sleep. He could only imagine what Jim was going through.
“Do what, darlin’?” he asked absently as he loaded yet another hypospray, hoping that this one would do the trick. The first two he tried had been ineffective this time around.
“Keep from murderin’ me for wakin’ you up.” Jim gave him a goofy, medicine-laden smile. “You’re unbeliev’ble.”
“Hardly. More like an idiot in love,” Leonard said wryly, pressing the hypo against Jim’s neck.
“... was that?” Jim muttered, only half of the question making it past his lips. Leonard smoothed the hair off his forehead, his fingers cool against Jim’s searing skin.
“Nothin’, Jim. Rest.”
And this time, Jim stayed asleep.
----
Joanna was the first thing Jim saw when he woke up the next morning.
“Hey, there,” he whispered, a slow smile spreading across his face when his surroundings finally registered. “Hey, beautiful. How’re you?”
“Hi,” Joanna said quietly. She was sitting next to him on the bed, cross-legged, her cerulean eyes narrowed in concentration as she watched him. He held out a hand, beckoning her closer, and she obligingly leaned down so that he could place a kiss on her cheek. “Daddy says you got hurt.”
“Yeah, ‘fraid I did.” Jim winced as he shifted his weight. He had been in one position for far too long, and his back was protesting angrily. But any movement he made sent bolts of pain shooting through his legs. “Jo, is your dad around? I -”
“Right here, Jim.” Bones breezed into the room. “Sorry about that, I had to take a call from the medical bay.”
“Something wrong?” Jim asked. Bones’ hand went automatically to his forehead, as it always did. His reflexive response when someone wasn’t feeling right was to check for fever. It was an endearing habit.
“No. Just advising Chapel on duty shifts. I’ve taken the next few days off. They’ll manage without me.” Bones loaded another hypospray and pressed it to Jim’s neck. “Joanna, go finish your breakfast.”
“But I wanna stay with Uncle Jim.”
“You can see him after you finish your meal.”
Bones’ voice was brusque this morning, as the combination of sleep deprivation and stress had worn down his already-miniscule amount of patience.
“But, Daddy -”
“Joanna,” Bones said sharply, silencing her. “Breakfast. Now.”
“It’s all right, Jo,” Jim said, holding out a hand to her. She took it. “I’m not going anywhere. Go eat your food. And then - why don’t you bring me a book? Come read to me when you’re done.”
Joanna finished her breakfast dutifully and then spent the rest of the morning in bed with him, reading very carefully from various books Bones had downloaded for her from the computer database. Jim drifted in and out of sleep. Whenever he woke, it was always to find Joanna watching over him patiently.
“I think she’s worried you’re gonna... leave,” Bones said when Jim woke again towards the evening, this time with Joanna’s head resting on his shoulder while she slumbered. He was sitting at his desk in the corner of the room, going over some reports.
“You can say dead, Bones, it’s all right,” Jim sighed, working out a crick in his neck with his hand.
“It’s not,” Bones replied. They stared at one another for a moment.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jim said quietly.
“I know.”
But Bones didn’t sound convinced.
“Daddy’s angry,” Joanna told Jim softly later that night. He was propped up against a mound of pillows, not quite in a sitting position but less horizontal than before. Joanna was nestled in his lap. He had been idly running his fingers through her hair, and it was lulling her into a light doze. The book she had been reading to him had fallen closed, and she made no move to open it again.
“No,” Jim said, smoothing a hand over her hair, the way he had seen Bones do so many times before. “He’s scared.”
Joanna twisted around to look at him, blinking the cloud of exhaustion from her eyes.
“Scared of what?” she asked, her face fixed in a perplexed frown, as though it was ludicrous that her father could be frightened of anything.
Of you. Of me. Of losing us to the void.
“He’s scared of the darkness,” Jim said finally, quietly.
Joanna settled back against his chest again. She was quiet for a moment, thinking.
“I get scared of the dark, too,” she said finally.
“Oh?” Jim adjusted his grip on her. “And what do you do when that happens?”
“Daddy comes and tells me it’s gonna be all right,” Joanna said. “He’s gonna keep me safe.”
She was quiet for a while after that, and her breathing evened out. Jim thought she had finally fallen asleep, and was about to summon Bones when Joanna spoke again. Her voice was impossibly small.
“Who keeps Daddy safe?”
Jim wrapped her in a loose hug and kissed her cheek, ignoring the protest of his healing injuries as he jostled them with the movement. He held her close and hoped she wouldn’t pick up on the absurdity of his next words, seeing as they were spoken by a man too injured to get out of bed. He meant every one of them, nonetheless.
“I do, sweetheart.”
----
Jim’s condition fluctuated for the rest of the week. Some days were worse than others when it came to the pain. Sometimes he was far too exhausted to even eat, and slept eighteen hours out of twenty-four. Other times he was plagued by insomnia, and spent entire endless nights wide awake.
Joanna never strayed very far from his side, and Jim began to suspect that Bones was right when it came to his daughter’s unspoken fears. But her hovering reminded Jim strongly of Bones, and he couldn’t help but smile at it.
This similarity was reinforced one afternoon, when he woke from a nap to find Joanna’s hand on his forehead.
Jim cracked open an eye and blinked at her.
“Whatcha doin’ there, sweetheart?” he murmured gently. Joanna withdrew her hand.
“Daddy does that when I’m sick,” she told him solemnly. “Do you know why?”
Jim gave her a sleepy smile.
“‘Cause he’s got a magic touch and it makes you all better,” he ventured playfully.
Joanna looked at him as though he’d just sprouted horns.
“No,” she said incredulously. “It’s to check for fever. There’s no such thing as magic.”
Bones, apparently, couldn’t contain his amusement any longer, and Jim heard a sharp bark of laughter from the vicinity of his desk.
“Baby girl’s a lot smarter than you give her credit for, Jim,” he said. Jim heard him get up, and a moment later he sat down on the edge of the bed, well within Jim’s field of vision. He pressed his hand to Jim’s forehead, just as Joanna had done, but a frown cut through his features. “Actually, she’s a lot smarter than I give her credit for. You are running a fever.”
Jim loved that about Bones, how he needed to poke and prod and feel before he brought in the technology. He always felt for a fever with the palm of his hand; always pressed gentle fingers around bruises and abrasions, as though that mere act alone might heal them. The ritual of touch grounded him, and forged a bond between doctor and patient that Bones always said was necessary in the healing process. Starfleet, he’d said many times to Jim, was determined to stamp all the humanity out of the profession by taking away any need for doctors to have contact with their patients. So much healing could be done remotely now, it frightened Bones.
I need my patients to know that someone will be there for them, he’d confided to Jim once. I need them to know that they won’t walk this path alone. No goddamn robot can do that for them, but I can.
“Bad sign?” Jim whispered. Bones shrugged, though he did reach for the medical bag that he had started keeping within an arm’s reach at all times. He administered another couple of hypos to the side of Jim’s neck.
“I expect it’s just your body reacting to all the medication in your system, but we’ll keep an eye on it.”
Jim dozed for the next few hours, but his breathing felt ragged and he never managed to drop completely off. He woke fully shortly after dinner, and Joanna curled up next to him in bed with a coloring book. But Jim only half-listened to her chatter this time, as he was distracted by a building pressure in his chest, one that had been there since the afternoon but which was becoming increasingly distracting. He was finding it more and more difficult to breathe, and wondered if that was simply a result of his exhaustion.
But then Bones came into the room, took one look at him, and snapped into emergency mode. He was at Jim’s side in an instant, peeling back his eyelids to peer into his eyes and then checking on the monitoring equipment. A moment later, the flat tone of an alarm started to go off.
“Joanna,” Bones said briskly, his calm voice coming from very far away. “I need you to call Nurse Chapel. Do you remember how to do that, sweetheart?”
Jim didn’t hear Joanna’s response, if she gave one at all. He didn’t have long to dwell on it, either, for quick fingers were doing away with the buttons on his shirt. It was pushed from his shoulders, and then Bones’ warm hands were on his chest, pressing down on the old incisions and feeling his throat. Jim’s breathing echoed in his ears, great gasps that didn’t draw nearly enough air, and his vision began to white out.
Bones’ soft voice was an anchor, and he tried to hold onto it.
“Sh, Jim, it’s all right. I’ve got you. Stay with me, all right? Jim.”
---
Part 2
----
Fandoms: Star Trek: AOS
Characters/Pairings: Bones/Kirk, Spock, Joanna McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Word Count: c. 10,000 total
Warnings: Language, injuries, fluff, kidfic, hurt/comfort.
Summary: Jim faces a long recovery after being badly injured on an away mission. Leonard and Joanna look after him.
Notes: This isn’t intended to be related to “Gently Into the Night,” but you are welcome to read it that way if you wish to up the angst factor. Joanna McCoy is the creation of DeForest Kelley and D.C. Fontana. Two lines of dialogue were taken from TOS's "City on the Edge of Forever." You may need to suspend disbelief in regards to the medical aspects of the story.
Jim Kirk had been drunk off his ass many times during his years at the Academy, but only once had he been blindingly inebriated.
It had been his birthday, that much he knew, but he could never remember what it was that set him off, let alone why that birthday should have been different from all the others that came before it. Maybe one of his professors had unexpectedly played the Kelvin tapes in lecture; maybe someone had made an offhand comment about his father. Maybe it was something completely unrelated to George Kirk and his sacrifice, but somehow Jim’s mind made the connection anyway.
Whatever the reason, Jim’s recollection of the day stopped around dinnertime. When he next became aware of himself, he was sitting on a pier in Monterey with a broken nose, dried blood on his shirt that wasn’t entirely his own, and a headache so monstrous he was begging passersby to lop his head off. Three days had passed without his being aware of them.
Bones was the one who found him, as he always did. He had stood there on the pier looking down at Jim for a long time, arms crossed, almost shaking with rage. He was ashen under his tan and his lips were white and thin. For a brief moment, Jim thought he was actually going to be granted his wish about decapitation. But Bones had finally hauled him to his feet, gotten his ass back to San Francisco, and confined him to the Academy’s medical bay for the weekend out of spite. Jim had accepted the punishment with none of his usual ribbing, for he had never before seen Bones so furious. It had been exceedingly unsettling.
He looked like that now, Jim thought as he blinked himself awake in Enterprise’s medical bay, vision hazy and blurred with all of the medication that had been pumped into his veins. Bones was pale, his mouth was a thin line, and his expression was a mix of terror and fury that didn’t go away entirely when he noticed Jim looking up at him, even though he did try to work his face into something vaguely resembling neutral professionalism.
“Tell you something, Jim,” Bones said gruffly after a long silence where they simply stared at one another, “I’m dog-tired of patching your sorry ass up.”
He pulled the sensor probe out of his medical tricorder and started to scan Jim’s legs. Jim blinked rapidly several times, trying to clear his sleep-blurred vision, narrowing his eyes against the harsh assault of the lights overhead. There was lot of activity going on around him, much more than was normal for the medical bay. He could pick out at least seven distinct conversations between different groups of doctors and nurses. There must have been a number of casualties.
“Bad news first,” Bones said brusquely as he set the scanner aside. “You took a hell of a pounding, Jim. You almost lost both your legs, and that punctured lung took me ages to repair. Breathing’s going to be a right pain for a while, and can I just say that it serves you right.”
His words were short and clipped, delivered on quick bursts of air that betrayed his agitation. Severe lines had etched themselves into his face around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes, and his brows were creased in worry.
“There are numerous cuts and bruises, but they’ll heal on their own. You had a concussion, and suffered damage to your spinal cord that nearly paralyzed you.” Bones’ eyes were hard chips of ice. “That wasn’t the case, however, needless to say. You’ll recover fully, given enough time. But I need you to stay off your feet for a couple of weeks, Jim, and I am not kidding. One wrong move and you could complicate your injuries while they’re healing and make things worse. This time, medical leave means medical leave. Do I make myself clear?”
Jim found he had the strength only to nod. Bones let out a breath.
“You’re a damned lucky son of a bitch, you know that?”
“No,” Jim rasped finally. “I just have an excellent doctor.”
He swallowed, wincing. Breathing alone was a chore; speaking was a battle. He felt as though a thin shroud had enveloped his mind, and the world around him was tinged with unreality. It was difficult to focus, and harder still to find the right words for his thoughts.
“And the good news?” he managed after a moment. He gave Bones a weak smile. “Could use some right about now.”
Bones’ face softened, but the deep lines never left.
“I’m not keeping you in here for a second longer than is necessary,” he said in a low, earnest voice. He leaned down on the pretense of administering another hypo to the side of Jim’s neck, and looked him in the eye. “Soon as I’m certain you’re completely out of danger, I’m bringing you back to my quarters. Figured you would be more comfortable there while you heal.”
Jim’s fingers twitched, the only response his hand gave to his brain’s instructions to move. Bones noticed, though, and he lightly brushed his fingertips across the back of Jim’s knuckles, the only outward sign of affection he dared give in the medical bay.
“Casualties?” Jim wheezed as Bones moved to check on the various equipment set up around the bed. Jim recognized only some of it--a heart monitor; a machine that displayed his vitals; an oxygen line in case he started having difficulty breathing.
“Five injured, but you were the worst,” Bones said. “And no, the Debnar didn’t end up firing on the ship. Seems that attacking our away team was enough. Spock gave ‘em hell for that, let me tell you.”
Jim relaxed, listening with half an ear to the rest of the story, because Bones had already answered the one question he didn’t know how to ask in public. Joanna was all right, then.
Bones’ little girl had been living on Enterprise for just over a year, ever since a fire back on Earth had claimed her mother’s life. Bones and his ex-wife had moved beyond their less-than-amicable divorce during Bones’ time at the Academy, and they had largely been on good terms with one another at the time of her passing.
“Spaceship ain’t no goddamn place to raise a kid,” Bones had said repeatedly in the wake of Jocelyn’s death, his words dejected, as though he was trying to convince himself that this was true. It largely was, Jim had to admit. He knew that Bones’ separation from his daughter ate at him like rust, but children and families weren’t allowed on Starfleet vessels for a reason.
Bones had traveled alone to Earth for Jocelyn’s funeral, and had intended at the time to also sort out the final details of Joanna’s planetside custody. But when he commed Enterprise less than twenty-four hours into his visit and requested a private vid call with the captain, Jim knew what it meant.
It meant that he was going to be pulling every string he had available to him--and many that he didn’t--in order to bring Joanna back to the ship with Bones.
It was either that, or risk losing them both.
Jim blinked, slowly coming back to himself, and realized that the room had darkened considerably since he last was aware of his surroundings. Bones was gone from his side, too, and Jim surmised that he must have drifted off. It was strange and disconcerting to not remember even falling asleep, let alone having been unconscious. Just a moment ago, it seemed, he had been thinking of Joanna.
A privacy curtain had been pulled around his bed, and Bones stepped around it. He had no doubt been alerted to Jim’s waking by the computer in his office, which was linked to each of the vital signs monitors that hung over every bed in the medical bay.
“All right, Jim?” Bones asked as he checked the readouts from the various bits of equipment hooked up to Jim. “Pain?”
“Yes to both,” Jim rasped, but gave Bones a reassuring smile to let him know that it was fine; he’d had worse.
Bones’ mouth was tight at the corners, a sign of his agitation at being so helpless in the face of Jim’s discomfort.
“It’s too soon for another round of painkillers,” he said. “I can get you a sleep aid.”
Jim shook his head and, when he tried to move his hand, this time found that it responded to his brain’s instructions. He touched Bones’ fingers, and Bones gently wrapped the hand in his own.
“Baby girl’s been asking for you,” he said in a low voice. “You missed pasta night.”
Jim felt an unexpected prickling behind his eyes, and blinked it away.
“Tell Jo I’ll be seeing her soon,” he whispered. Bones nodded and squeezed his hand.
“I gotta go check on the others,” he said softly. “Will you be all right?”
Jim swept his thumb across the underside of Bones’ wrist, the gesture as intimate as a kiss.
“I’ll be fine. Go.”
----
They brought Jim home six hours later.
If he had been any other patient, with the injuries he suffered, Leonard would have ordered him to remain in the medical bay for at least a week. But years of patching Jim up, both here on Enterprise and at the Academy, had taught Leonard that forcing Jim to spend that amount of time confined to a bed in the non-privacy of the medical bay would have only hindered his healing process.
Besides, Leonard could better look after Jim while at home, and it meant that he wouldn’t have to leave Joanna largely in the care of strangers during Jim’s recovery.
It took a team of four to move Jim to Leonard’s quarters. Leonard feared that using the transporter might complicate Jim’s delicate condition further, and so they had to move him by hand. Two orderlies handled the gurney while Leonard and Nurse Chapel moved all of the necessary monitoring equipment, some of which was still attached to Jim’s body. It was a long, awkward journey, compounded by the fact that even the slightest movement jostled Jim’s injuries. He bore the pain stoically, but by the time the group reached their destination, he was ashen and sweating profusely.
“Bedroom,” Leonard told the team as they stepped into his quarters. “I’ll be right there.”
Joanna was sitting on the sofa, a book in her lap, and she had been reading aloud to Lieutenant Harriman--her minder for the day--when the medical team came through the doors. She went quiet, watching the scene with narrowed eyes as she tried to figure out what was going on. She didn’t look frightened, which Leonard was glad of, but when her eyes fell on the medical equipment her face took on an expression of apprehension.
She knew what hospital equipment looked like, and what it meant.
Leonard dismissed Harriman with a nod and a quick thanks. He would have to thank her properly later on, once Jim was settled and Joanna’s mind put at ease.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said, coming to sit next to her on the sofa. “What’re you reading?”
“Who’s that?” she asked instead, not about to be sidetracked by her father’s innocent questioning.
“Remember when I told you that Uncle Jim couldn’t come visit because he was hurt real bad?” Leonard asked, and she nodded. “Well, he’s been getting better, so I brought him h - here.”
He stumbled on the last word, almost having said home instead.
“Is he gonna live with us?” was Joanna’s next question. Leonard shook his head, and felt an unexpected stab of regret in his chest.
“No, baby,” he said, smoothing a hand over her dark hair. “No, he just is staying with us until he gets better.”
“You’re gonna take care of him?”
Leonard gave her a smile.
“Yeah, I’m gonna take care of him.”
The medical team had settled Jim in Leonard’s bed, and they left him to make all the various adjustments to the equipment. He spent some time making sure everything was hooked up properly, and then checked in with Jim.
“You all right there, darlin’?” Leonard asked in a low voice, smoothing his knuckles over Jim’s stubbled cheek. He was barely conscious, a mix of medication and exhaustion keeping him just on the brink of sleep.
“Fine,” he murmured. “Jo?”
“Just a bit curious, that’s all. Not scared in the slightest.”
Jim nodded slowly.
“Good.”
Leonard leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss.
“I gotta go fix her some dinner. Press this button if you need me, all right?”
But Jim was already asleep.
For the most part, Joanna understood what was going on. She knew that Jim had been badly injured, and that he was going to stay with them until he was better. She understood that bad people had hurt him, and that they wouldn’t be coming back (Mr. Spock made sure of that). But the one thing she couldn’t understand was her father’s newest restriction. She had never before been barred from the bedroom during the day, and couldn’t understand why Leonard had suddenly cordoned off the room.
“Why can’t I go in?” Joanna asked, one hand fisted into Leonard’s trousers as she gazed up at him imploringly. The other held her favorite stuffed rabbit.
“Because Uncle Jim is sick, and he needs his rest,” Leonard explained patiently for the second time that evening. He was standing by the computer interface that was mounted on one wall in the main room, skimming over the afternoon’s reports from the medical bay. Normally, he would use the computer at his desk for this task, but his bedroom had doubled as his office ever since Joanna came aboard Enterprise, and he had no wish to disturb Jim right now.
“But I want to see him,” Joanna pointed out, as though this was a valid exception to her father’s no one can disturb Jim rule. Leonard shut down the interface.
“I know, Jo-jo,” he said, dropping into a crouch and looking her in the eye. “I know. But Uncle Jim’s asleep. You can see him later. I promise.”
Apparently, however, that was precisely the wrong thing to say. Joanna’s eyes welled, and she shrank back a little from her father. Leonard sat frozen, unsure of what he had done wrong.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he tried finally, and then repeated, “Uncle Jim’s fine, he’s just sleepin’ for a bit -”
“That’s what they said,” Joanna broke in quietly, “when Mama was hurt. An’ they wouldn’t let me see her.”
Leonard’s stomach bottomed out, and he cursed inwardly. Of course, he should have known that would be the wrong thing to say to Joanna, whose questions and fears had been stymied last year by incompetent doctors and helpless family friends, none of whom wanted to tell her the truth about her mother’s passing without informing her father first. And Leonard had never quite forgiven himself for that fiasco, even though there was nothing he could have done about Enterprise’s radio silence. They had been mapping a nebula when the fire back in Georgia claimed Jocelyn’s life. Leonard found out about the accident three days later, when interference had cleared enough for communication to be possible with Earth once again.
Joanna had gone three days without news, without hearing from her father or seeing her mother, and had spent it all in the care of near-strangers who didn’t know how to act around her. Leonard wasn’t going to chance such a nightmare happening again.
And Joanna deserved better than this.
“Okay,” he said finally, and Joanna’s eyes widened. “All right, baby girl, I’ll take you to see him. But Uncle Jim is very sick, remember that. You have to be careful with him.”
Joanna nodded solemnly, and Leonard pushed himself to his feet. He held out his hand, and Joanna latched onto the ends of his fingers.
She was quiet as Leonard led her to the bedroom, and when he opened the door she seemed reluctant to step across the threshold. But she wasn’t tall enough to see Jim on the bed, and when Leonard released her hand she took a few uncertain steps forward, craning her neck.
Leonard padded over to the bed and checked the monitoring equipment. Jim’s condition hadn’t changed since he was first brought in six hours ago--his pulse was steady, if weak, and his breathing was shallow. It wasn’t dangerous, but it certainly wasn’t optimal, either.
The room, in just a few hours, had taken on the sickly-sweet smell Leonard had come to associate with hospital rooms of the very ill. A thin trace of antiseptic cut through the air every now and again, buffeted by a light breeze from the ventilation system.
“Come here.” Leonard sat down next to Jim’s still form and reached out for Joanna. She came readily into his arms, and he lifted her onto the bed. “See? Uncle Jim’s just sleeping, like I said.”
Joanna still appeared dubious. She watched Jim’s face for a long while, her brows furrowed, and then said, “He’s not moving.”
She sounded impossibly terrified, and her hands had curled into fists, gripping her stuffed animal so tightly Leonard feared she might rip it.
“No, no, baby, it’s all right,” Leonard tried to quickly reassure. “See?”
He reached out and placed a hand on Jim’s chest. The other man’s breathing was shallow, and thus barely discernible in the dim light of the room, but it was noticeable when touching his chest. Joanna copied him, her tiny hand dwarfed by her father’s brawny one. After a moment, her expression cleared, and she relaxed fully when Jim coughed in his sleep a few seconds later.
Leonard gave her a reassuring smile.
“And here, feel this.” He took her tiny hand in his and pressed two of her fingers just under Jim’s jaw, right over his pulse-point. “Know what that is? It’s Uncle Jim’s heartbeat. He’s sleepin’, and he’s gonna be just fine.”
“Promise?”
Leonard leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“I promise, baby girl.”
----
Leonard slept on a cot in his bedroom for the first night of Jim’s stay. He didn’t want to risk accidentally rolling into Jim at some point during the night, as they were now used to reaching for one another whenever they shared a bed. More often than not, they woke in the morning as a tangle of limbs, but that wouldn’t do right now with Jim’s injuries.
Neither of them slept very much that night. Jim was up every few hours due to the pain, and Leonard generally woke only a few seconds after he did.
He treated Jim’s discomfort with various painkillers. He also had a number of hyposprays filled with medicine to ease Jim’s breathing and to help along his healing legs. Sometimes combinations of those medications prevented certain painkillers from being used on him, and Leonard had to improvise. What worked on the pain at one point might not work three hours later.
“Dunno how you do it,” Jim murmured groggily towards 0500. It was the fourth time they had woken that night, and Leonard’s head was beginning to pound with lack of sleep. He could only imagine what Jim was going through.
“Do what, darlin’?” he asked absently as he loaded yet another hypospray, hoping that this one would do the trick. The first two he tried had been ineffective this time around.
“Keep from murderin’ me for wakin’ you up.” Jim gave him a goofy, medicine-laden smile. “You’re unbeliev’ble.”
“Hardly. More like an idiot in love,” Leonard said wryly, pressing the hypo against Jim’s neck.
“... was that?” Jim muttered, only half of the question making it past his lips. Leonard smoothed the hair off his forehead, his fingers cool against Jim’s searing skin.
“Nothin’, Jim. Rest.”
And this time, Jim stayed asleep.
----
Joanna was the first thing Jim saw when he woke up the next morning.
“Hey, there,” he whispered, a slow smile spreading across his face when his surroundings finally registered. “Hey, beautiful. How’re you?”
“Hi,” Joanna said quietly. She was sitting next to him on the bed, cross-legged, her cerulean eyes narrowed in concentration as she watched him. He held out a hand, beckoning her closer, and she obligingly leaned down so that he could place a kiss on her cheek. “Daddy says you got hurt.”
“Yeah, ‘fraid I did.” Jim winced as he shifted his weight. He had been in one position for far too long, and his back was protesting angrily. But any movement he made sent bolts of pain shooting through his legs. “Jo, is your dad around? I -”
“Right here, Jim.” Bones breezed into the room. “Sorry about that, I had to take a call from the medical bay.”
“Something wrong?” Jim asked. Bones’ hand went automatically to his forehead, as it always did. His reflexive response when someone wasn’t feeling right was to check for fever. It was an endearing habit.
“No. Just advising Chapel on duty shifts. I’ve taken the next few days off. They’ll manage without me.” Bones loaded another hypospray and pressed it to Jim’s neck. “Joanna, go finish your breakfast.”
“But I wanna stay with Uncle Jim.”
“You can see him after you finish your meal.”
Bones’ voice was brusque this morning, as the combination of sleep deprivation and stress had worn down his already-miniscule amount of patience.
“But, Daddy -”
“Joanna,” Bones said sharply, silencing her. “Breakfast. Now.”
“It’s all right, Jo,” Jim said, holding out a hand to her. She took it. “I’m not going anywhere. Go eat your food. And then - why don’t you bring me a book? Come read to me when you’re done.”
Joanna finished her breakfast dutifully and then spent the rest of the morning in bed with him, reading very carefully from various books Bones had downloaded for her from the computer database. Jim drifted in and out of sleep. Whenever he woke, it was always to find Joanna watching over him patiently.
“I think she’s worried you’re gonna... leave,” Bones said when Jim woke again towards the evening, this time with Joanna’s head resting on his shoulder while she slumbered. He was sitting at his desk in the corner of the room, going over some reports.
“You can say dead, Bones, it’s all right,” Jim sighed, working out a crick in his neck with his hand.
“It’s not,” Bones replied. They stared at one another for a moment.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jim said quietly.
“I know.”
But Bones didn’t sound convinced.
“Daddy’s angry,” Joanna told Jim softly later that night. He was propped up against a mound of pillows, not quite in a sitting position but less horizontal than before. Joanna was nestled in his lap. He had been idly running his fingers through her hair, and it was lulling her into a light doze. The book she had been reading to him had fallen closed, and she made no move to open it again.
“No,” Jim said, smoothing a hand over her hair, the way he had seen Bones do so many times before. “He’s scared.”
Joanna twisted around to look at him, blinking the cloud of exhaustion from her eyes.
“Scared of what?” she asked, her face fixed in a perplexed frown, as though it was ludicrous that her father could be frightened of anything.
Of you. Of me. Of losing us to the void.
“He’s scared of the darkness,” Jim said finally, quietly.
Joanna settled back against his chest again. She was quiet for a moment, thinking.
“I get scared of the dark, too,” she said finally.
“Oh?” Jim adjusted his grip on her. “And what do you do when that happens?”
“Daddy comes and tells me it’s gonna be all right,” Joanna said. “He’s gonna keep me safe.”
She was quiet for a while after that, and her breathing evened out. Jim thought she had finally fallen asleep, and was about to summon Bones when Joanna spoke again. Her voice was impossibly small.
“Who keeps Daddy safe?”
Jim wrapped her in a loose hug and kissed her cheek, ignoring the protest of his healing injuries as he jostled them with the movement. He held her close and hoped she wouldn’t pick up on the absurdity of his next words, seeing as they were spoken by a man too injured to get out of bed. He meant every one of them, nonetheless.
“I do, sweetheart.”
----
Jim’s condition fluctuated for the rest of the week. Some days were worse than others when it came to the pain. Sometimes he was far too exhausted to even eat, and slept eighteen hours out of twenty-four. Other times he was plagued by insomnia, and spent entire endless nights wide awake.
Joanna never strayed very far from his side, and Jim began to suspect that Bones was right when it came to his daughter’s unspoken fears. But her hovering reminded Jim strongly of Bones, and he couldn’t help but smile at it.
This similarity was reinforced one afternoon, when he woke from a nap to find Joanna’s hand on his forehead.
Jim cracked open an eye and blinked at her.
“Whatcha doin’ there, sweetheart?” he murmured gently. Joanna withdrew her hand.
“Daddy does that when I’m sick,” she told him solemnly. “Do you know why?”
Jim gave her a sleepy smile.
“‘Cause he’s got a magic touch and it makes you all better,” he ventured playfully.
Joanna looked at him as though he’d just sprouted horns.
“No,” she said incredulously. “It’s to check for fever. There’s no such thing as magic.”
Bones, apparently, couldn’t contain his amusement any longer, and Jim heard a sharp bark of laughter from the vicinity of his desk.
“Baby girl’s a lot smarter than you give her credit for, Jim,” he said. Jim heard him get up, and a moment later he sat down on the edge of the bed, well within Jim’s field of vision. He pressed his hand to Jim’s forehead, just as Joanna had done, but a frown cut through his features. “Actually, she’s a lot smarter than I give her credit for. You are running a fever.”
Jim loved that about Bones, how he needed to poke and prod and feel before he brought in the technology. He always felt for a fever with the palm of his hand; always pressed gentle fingers around bruises and abrasions, as though that mere act alone might heal them. The ritual of touch grounded him, and forged a bond between doctor and patient that Bones always said was necessary in the healing process. Starfleet, he’d said many times to Jim, was determined to stamp all the humanity out of the profession by taking away any need for doctors to have contact with their patients. So much healing could be done remotely now, it frightened Bones.
I need my patients to know that someone will be there for them, he’d confided to Jim once. I need them to know that they won’t walk this path alone. No goddamn robot can do that for them, but I can.
“Bad sign?” Jim whispered. Bones shrugged, though he did reach for the medical bag that he had started keeping within an arm’s reach at all times. He administered another couple of hypos to the side of Jim’s neck.
“I expect it’s just your body reacting to all the medication in your system, but we’ll keep an eye on it.”
Jim dozed for the next few hours, but his breathing felt ragged and he never managed to drop completely off. He woke fully shortly after dinner, and Joanna curled up next to him in bed with a coloring book. But Jim only half-listened to her chatter this time, as he was distracted by a building pressure in his chest, one that had been there since the afternoon but which was becoming increasingly distracting. He was finding it more and more difficult to breathe, and wondered if that was simply a result of his exhaustion.
But then Bones came into the room, took one look at him, and snapped into emergency mode. He was at Jim’s side in an instant, peeling back his eyelids to peer into his eyes and then checking on the monitoring equipment. A moment later, the flat tone of an alarm started to go off.
“Joanna,” Bones said briskly, his calm voice coming from very far away. “I need you to call Nurse Chapel. Do you remember how to do that, sweetheart?”
Jim didn’t hear Joanna’s response, if she gave one at all. He didn’t have long to dwell on it, either, for quick fingers were doing away with the buttons on his shirt. It was pushed from his shoulders, and then Bones’ warm hands were on his chest, pressing down on the old incisions and feeling his throat. Jim’s breathing echoed in his ears, great gasps that didn’t draw nearly enough air, and his vision began to white out.
Bones’ soft voice was an anchor, and he tried to hold onto it.
“Sh, Jim, it’s all right. I’ve got you. Stay with me, all right? Jim.”
---
Part 2
----