[FIC] Don't Worry (i'm okay now) - Part 7/8
Everything was quiet for now. It’d been twenty-six hours since Kirk had ordered Scotty to eject and detonate the wrap core into the singularity eating away at the Narada, and things had finally calmed down. Scotty, with the help of the remaining engineering crew (and Kirk’s occasional lending hand) had managed to bring their second engine back from the brink of death and had stabilized impulse power. This, in turn, had allowed Chekov to recalculate their estimated time to Earth and he’d been able to decrease their time from the initial one week down to three days. When McCoy had heard the news, Kirk had thought he’d start weeping. Considering the hit medical had taken, what with the Vulcan refugees loitering the hallways looking lost (or as lost-looking as Vulcans got) and the ridiculous number of wounded the Enterprise had accumulated, it was a wonder the ship still had any sort of medical supply.
Kirk himself was past the point of exhaustion. It had been three days now since he had been accused of cheating on the Kobayashi Maru, and he didn’t know if he’d ever recover from everything that had happened. Between the loss of an entire planet and the brain eating shit-storm that were time paradoxes, Kirk’s head was about ready to explode. His bruises had bruises and the migraine that had been his constant companion since the adrenaline had drained from his system had had him sequestered in the bathroom for five minutes throwing up and then trying to get the motivation he needed to get back up from the nice, cold floor.
He surveyed the bridge from the captain’s chair, taking in the various slumped shoulders and listening to the veiled groans and sighs from the crew. The bridge crew was the same that had been present when they’d entered Vulcan space all those hours ago (minus Pike, but he wasn’t thinking about this now, no way, not yet), and he was pretty sure they wouldn’t get any rest until he did. Because he was the Acting Captain, and if he could still be coherent and functioning after what he’d been through, then so could they. And even though he could order them to get some rest, he was pretty sure they’d just glare at him and refuse to move. So he’d just have to lead by example, he supposed.
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, enjoying his last few seconds of freedom. God, Bones was going to have a field day with him. “Bridge to Sickbay,” he said into the communication unit by his arm.
He waited a few seconds before the comm unit crackled back. “This is McCoy.”
“Hey Bones, think you could come up to the bridge?”
“Oh sure,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Because I have nothing better to do with my time than come up to the bridge at your beck and call.” There was a small sound over the unit quickly followed by McCoy’s loud shout of “Hey! You! Yes, you! I told you to keep still! Are you deaf, man? How did you even make it past the entrance exam to the Academy? No, don’t answer that! ”
Kirk could feel his eyebrows slowly going up to his hairline at the rant McCoy was bestowing upon the unsuspecting ensign. Kirk did not envy him. “Bones,” he tried interjecting, going totally ignored. He groaned, leaning his head back on the chair and closing his eyes briefly as McCoy continued to berate the poor man. “Bones!” he finally shouted over the doctor.
“What?” the doctor snapped.
“What, sir,” Kirk emphasized in a futile attempt to remind Bones that he was the Captain now and that the man was skirting insubordination.
There was a beat of silence over the line. “I’ll be right there,” McCoy grunted.
Kirk disconnected without replying. He blinked, surprised that he had forgotten to open his eyes, and promptly winced as the overhead lights stabbed at his eyes and ratcheted his migraine up another notch. He could feel the pain move downward and leave nausea in its wake. He was suddenly incredibly thankful he’d already thrown up whatever he had managed to scarf down or else his crew would have been privy to a pretty gruesome show. As it was, he could feel the bile in his throat and covered his eyes with his hand, a small, barely audible whimper making its way up his throat.
“Lights at fifty percent,” he heard a deep voice order from behind him.
The computer obliged immediately and Kirk let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and cracked his eyes open again. That, Kirk decided, had been a mistake. As soon as the dimmed lights hit his pupils he felt the bile rise up to his mouth and he reflexively turned to the side and threw up. He could feel it as the bile burned its way up his throat and he chocked on the dry heaves as the migraine grew in intensity from the lack of air. He could vaguely hear surprised shouts from his crew and felt a hot hand on his neck, digging into the bunched muscles in a gentle massage. And just as soon as the nausea had come, it was gone. Kirk let out a small groan of relief and slumped further down into the chair, letting his head rest on his forearm which was in turn supported by the chair’s armrest. He shivered slightly from the cold sweat and the counterpoint of the hot hand on the back of his neck.
“Spock,” he groaned softly into his arm, sure the Vulcan would be able to hear him.
“Yes, Captain,” the Vulcan replied, his breath brushing Kirk’s cheek as he crouched down to be at the same level as him.
“Is Bones almost here? I don’t feel so good.”
“The doctor should be here momentarily, Jim,” Spock replied softly.
“Okay, good. That’s good,” Jim mumbled. “I want everyone to be given at least eight hours of mandatory rest, including you.”
“Captain, that is not-”
“That’s an order Spock,” Jim said more forcefully. When Spock failed to reply, he could only assume acceptance. “You’re in charge after that, Mr. Spock.”
“Very well, Captain.”
Kirk was about to reply when he heard the distinct whoosh of pneumatic doors opening. He let out a small groan and Spock could feel his muscles tensing beneath his hand as Doctor McCoy made his way onto the bridge.
“All right, Captain. You rang and here I a- Bloody hell, Jim!” McCoy exclaimed, reaching the Captain’s chair in three quick strides. “What happened?”
“Bones,” Jim moaned as he tried to bury his head deeper into his arm. “Don’t yell so loud, please.”
“Don’t - Are you kidding me?” McCoy yelled as he pulled out his tricoder from his belt.
“Doctor,” Spock snapped softly, one hot hand still on Kirk’s neck and resuming its previous motion. “The Captain is suffering from a very severe migraine and various wounds. Excessive and unnecessary noise will only serve to further aggravate the situation.”
“Migraine? Has he-” McCoy took a small sniff and made a face. “Right. You might want to send for a cleaning crew, Mr. Spock.”
“One is already on its way, sir,” Uhura chimed in from the communication station as she stared at the unfolding scene.
McCoy hummed and frowned at his readings. “Jim, did you throw up before now?” Kirk nodded his head once. “When?” Kirk shrugged. “Jim,” McCoy warned.
“I dunno, Bones… Maybe… an hour ago?” Jim mumbled.
“Oh, that’s just… Brilliant. All right, let’s get you to sickbay. I’ll call a gurney,” McCoy said even as he reached for his communicator.
“No gurney,” Jim said as he raised his head from his arm to glare at McCoy.
“You’re in no condition to walk, Jim,” McCoy countered. “Chapel, send an anti-grav gurney to the bridge.”
“The crew-”
“Will not think any less highly of you, Captain,” Spock said before Kirk could finish voicing his protest. “They are fully cognizant of the great strain your body has endured in the last few days and morale will not flag simply because you have reached your limit.” There was a small pause. “Additionally, I believe the opposite will be true. If you have succumbed to your ailments, the crew will believe that they, too, are finally allowed to rest.”
The bridge was bathed in silence for a moment before Jim let out a loud snort. “That, Mr. Spock, might be the biggest lie I have ever heard,” Jim said softly. “But,” he continued before Spock could say anything, “I appreciate the effort.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, sir, that Vulcans do not lie.”
“Right,” Kirk sighed as he lowered his head to his arm again.
There was another swoosh of the doors opening and Kirk felt Spock’s hand press down gently on his neck, a warning that the gurney had arrived. Kirk kept his eyes closed as he felt two pair of hands pull him off the chair and maneuver him onto the gurney. He groaned softly when the movement ignited various pains throughout his body, the migraine just making everything hurt more. Once he was finally lying on the gurney, he felt a broad hand run through his hair and sighed blissfully as a cold pack was placed on his eyes.
“All right, Jim,” McCoy said from next to him. “I’m going to give you something for the pain, and then we’ll head off.”
Kirk hummed in agreement and cringed at the sting of the hypospray as it bit into his neck. He was just conscious enough to feel the gurney start its journey to the infirmary before blissful darkness claimed him.
***
Twelve hours later found Kirk cocooned under a pile of blankets in the captain’s quarters nursing the tell-tale end of his migraine of doom. McCoy had kept him in the infirmary just long enough to run him through the dermal regenerator to give him some reprieve from his bruises, but unfortunately the Enterprise hadn’t been stocked with any headache medication he wasn’t allergic to. So he’d been ordered back to Pike’s quarters to sleep it off in darkness and silence. The fight that had broken out between Kirk and McCoy at those orders had had the nurses running and Kirk throwing up bile from the side of his bed again from the noise and nausea. He’d held on obstinately until Spock had shown up and told him, in his most logical tone, that the ship was at maximum capacity and he had nowhere else to go.
So now there he was, blinking in the darkness and trying to decide if he was likely to face-plant if he tried to get out of bed to go to the bathroom and grab a cup of tea from the replicator. He didn’t think his stomach could deal with food just yet, but ingesting some form of liquid probably wasn’t a bad idea. He’d just made up his mind to go ahead with his plan when the doors to the quarters opened without warning and an elephant stomped into the room.
“Lights, twenty percent.”
“Hi, Bones,” he called out, his voice muffled from the blankets covering him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Cut the crap, kid,” McCoy grumbled as he sat on the bed next to Kirk. He pulled down the covers just enough to reveal disheveled hair and pink-tinged cheeks. “Are you running a fever?” McCoy asked horrified even as his hand automatically sought out Kirk’s forehead and brushed it lightly. He let out an annoyed hum and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Kirk critically. “How are you feeling?”
“The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” Kirk asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.
“So help you God, kid,” McCoy replied.
“I feel like crap. But the migraine is mostly gone. Actually, I was just debating the merits of peeing and then getting some tea when you stomped in.”
“No tea. The caffeine might flare up the migraine again, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that. You can have water or juice. As for the bathroom run, let’s get you upright and I’ll help you there.”
Jim pulled a face but didn’t counter the doctor’s orders. Instead he kicked at the covers and slowly pushed himself upright. He closed his eyes momentarily as the world tilted sideways, but McCoy’s warm hand on his shoulder helped to anchor him and slow the sense of vertigo. Slowly, and with McCoy’s hand holding him by the elbow, he stood up right. He felt the blood rush down his body and blinked against the black spots that had spread across his vision; this was why he hated being on bed rest. Once he was ready, he nodded to McCoy and together they slowly made their way to the bathroom on the other side of the room.
He briefly debated the merits of a shower but decided he’d rather not tempt fate. He shuffled back to bed with McCoy’s help and all but collapsed on top of the covers, groaning softly as a dull throb pulsed behind his eyelids. He took a deep breath and groped at the blankets underneath him, trying to bring them back up to cover his head to block out the light. Before he could manage it, the bed dipped slightly and he groaned again when he felt McCoy’s hand dig into his neck muscles.
“You’re coiled tighter than a spring, Jim. Try to relax, for fuck’s sake.”
“Bones,” Kirk mumbled into the blankets. “You have the best bedside manners ever. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.”
“Prick,” McCoy grumbled as he dug his fingers into the knots. He smirked as Kirk groaned and sank further into the mattress. “I brought you some water for when you’re ready for it.”
Kirk didn’t reply, but he could feel a heavy silence settle between them. “What is it, Bones?”
“What?”
“Come on, spit it out. I can’t do this with you right now.”
McCoy sighed softly. “You should call your mom.”
“No,” Jim said immediately.
“Jim-”
“No. Stop it, Bones. Let it go,” Jim ordered, the muscles that had started to relax under McCoy’s hand tensing back up again.
“Jim, listen to me,” McCoy said, letting his hand just rest on Jim’s neck. “I know… I know you can’t forgive her. And maybe you never will, but… She knows you’re at the Academy, Jim. And she knows you’re in the graduating class.”
“How would she-” Jim abruptly closed his mouth. “Have you-” Jim winced as his voice cracked. “Have you been talking to my mother behind my back?” he whispered angrily as he pushed himself up, slapping McCoy’s hand away.
McCoy stared at him silently.
“You have!” Jim accused him, anger coloring his voice. “I cannot believe you! How long has this been going on?”
“I called her a couple of weeks after we got back from Disney World,” McCoy said, eyes never wavering from Jim’s angry face.
“You called her? After Disney World?” Jim exclaimed. “That was nearly two years ago, you fucking asshole! You’ve been talking to my mother behind my back for two years?”
“Jim- ”
“Don’t you dare- ”
“Will you calm the fuck down and shut the fuck up, for once?” McCoy finally snapped. Kirk stopped mid-rant and stared at his friend. “Finally,” McCoy grumbled.
Jim huffed out an angry breath and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at McCoy but keeping his mouth shut. He knew there would be no talking (yelling or otherwise) with the doctor when he started speaking like that. He might as well just shut up and listen to the man and then tear him a new one.
“Look, Jim,” McCoy started, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying I condone anything your mother did, because I don’t. I think she was irresponsible, blind, and she royally fucked up everything.” Jim hummed angrily. “That being said, ” McCoy continued, glaring at him, “I think you should give her a chance.”
“Why?”
“She’s your mother, Jim,” McCoy said.
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“And she loves you.” Jim snorted but the doctor ignored him. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jim, some graver than others, and some are unforgivable. But…” McCoy paused and took a deep breath. “She can’t forgive herself, Jim. And I don’t think she ever will.”
“That doesn’t change anything,” Jim replied stubbornly.
McCoy sighed. “Jim, she loves you.”
“Why are you so insistent on this? Why are you siding with her?” Jim asked, hurt.
“I’m siding with you, kid. I think you need this. You want this.”
Jim let you a soft sigh and looked down at his hands. “It won’t change anything,” he whispered.
“It might.”
“It won’t.”
“Will you stop being an ass and just talk to her, already?” McCoy finally snapped.
“I don’t…” Jim paused and swallowed visibly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“‘Hi Mom, guess who?’ is a good start,” McCoy teased.
“Shut up,” Jim grumbled.
“Jim… She probably thinks you’re dead.” At that, Jim looked up, confusion written all over his face. “Out of the seven Starfleet ships that were attacked, six were destroyed, and by the same ship that attacked the Kelvin. And all your mother knows is that you’re part of the graduating class and there’s a six in seven chance you were in one of the ships that was torn apart. And even if she held on to the hope you were here, on the Enterprise, we’ve lost nearly half the crew, Jim.” McCoy paused briefly. “For all she knows, you were killed the same way and by the same man that killed George Kirk.”
Jim looked at Bones horrified, his blue eyes wide as saucers. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he threw the covers off himself and nearly fell on the ground in his haste to reach the desk and the comm unit.
“Bones, Bones! I need your code. Give me your code!” he commanded, a panicked edge to his voice.
“What are you- ”
“I need to bypass the communication security system so I can bounce a private signal through the relay station at Space Station 42. But I need command access to the computer network and I don’t have one because I’m a stowaway and I haven’t needed one since I’ve taken over command! Give me your codes, now!” Jim’s voice had gotten progressively louder during his tirade and McCoy nearly winced at the last word.
He walked up to where Jim was sitting in front of the computer terminal and activated the verification sequence. “Leonard H. McCoy, verification Beta-Lambda-Phi-Omega-Three.”
The computer chirped its approval and before he could move away, Jim was typing furiously into the terminal, bringing up one display after another and creating line after line of code. McCoy stared at him in disbelief, incredulous that his words had incited such intensity and controlled panic in his friend. The only other time McCoy had seen Jim this absorbed while programming something had been in the days right before his third Kobiyashu Maru exam. He watched silently as Jim grumbled and cursed under his breath until suddenly he let out a triumphant ‘Aha!’ and pressed a few final keys before a blank screen took over the entire unit.
“Come on…” he murmured, fingers drumming impatiently on the desk. “Pick up… Pick up…”
McCoy had just opened his mouth to ask Jim what was going on when an image flickered several times before stabilizing into the familiar features of Winona Kirk. There was a beat of silence before both Kirks started talking at the same time.
“Jim! Jim, is that really you? Oh thank God! You’re alive! I was so worried you were - ”
“Mom! It’s me, I’m fine, I’m alive. There’s nothing to worry about. We’re on our way back - ”
And just as abruptly they both fell silent. McCoy shifted slightly behind Jim as the silence stretched and the tension in the room grew. He watched as mother and son stared at each other, neither willing to be the first to speak, both afraid they’d say something they’d regret. McCoy shook his head and moved to stand behind Jim, placing a hand in his shoulder.
“Hi Winona,” he said as he bent over to look at Jim’s mother.
“Leonard! Thank God. I was worried sick about the two of you. And no one in Starfleet would tell me anything since I’m not listed as either of your emergency contacts.”
“We’re fine,” McCoy said hastily, trying to avoid the potential bombshell from Winona’s comment about their proxy status.
“Jim?” Winona questioned, blue eyes staring at her son desperately.
Jim forced himself to keep looking at his mother as a tight smile stretched over his lips. “A little banged up, but otherwise I’m fine. We’re fine. We should reach Earth in about three days.”
Jim watched as his mother worried her bottom lip for a few moments before squaring her shoulders and looking back at him determinately. “Can I be there when you land?”
Jim physically jerked back at the question, surprised she had even asked it. He unconsciously mirrored his mother’s previous action, worrying his bottom lip for a minute as he thought over her request. Did he want her there when they landed? It was going to be a mess, and the press was probably going to be having orgasms over them as they exited the shuttles. But…
A firm squeeze on his shoulder had him looking up at McCoy. Everyone else’s family would probably be there. And no matter what he said, he did want his mother to be there for him. He wanted her to be proud of him, to care for him, to… He wasn’t really sure what he wanted from her, but he just knew he wanted something. And that she was trying. It took two to create and nurture a relationship, and his mother had taken the first leap.
He nodded silently before finding his voice. “Y-Yeah. Yes.”
He watched as his mother’s spreading smile lit up her face and made her look years younger as the stress lines that had marred it suddenly faded away. “Thank you, James.”
He nodded again, too flabbergasted to say anything. An angry beep from the console snapped him out of it and he looked down to see it was a hail from the bridge. Probably Uhura about to chew him out for mucking about in her department. He winced slightly and looked up at his mom with a sheepish expression.
“I gotta go, Mom. See you soon.”
“Bye, Jimmy. I love you,” Winona said, one hand splayed on the screen and her smile never fading as she cut off their link before Jim could say anything.
“I love you, too,” Jim whispered to the dark screen, slowly bringing up his hand and placing it where his mother’s hand had been.
A squeeze on his shoulder had him looking up at McCoy and smiling softly before closing his eyes and shaking off the hand. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, ignoring the insistent beeping from the console until he felt like he was in control once more. He slapped his legs once and flicked the comm unit back to life, forcing himself not to wince at Uhura’s glare.
“Sir,” she growled quietly, voice bordering on insubordination. “There was a mysterious signal emitting from the Captain’s quarters directed at Starbase 42, which the bridge’s instruments were unable to decipher or terminate. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you, sir?”
Jim shrugged, mindful of his lingering aches. “No idea, Lieutenant. Better start investigating that and make sure no one’s hacked our systems.”
“I’ll get right on it, sir” she grumbled. She shook her head once before squaring her shoulders. “Sir, we’re ready to contact Starfleet.”
Jim nodded curtly. “I’ll be there momentarily. Start hailing them, Lieutenant.”
Kirk cut the line and stared at the blank screen for a moment before inhaling deeply and pushing himself to his feet. “Time to face the music, Bones.”
“We’re going to be chewed alive, aren’t we?” McCoy groaned as he followed Kirk back to the bridge.
“You bet your ass we are. Chewed up and spit back out.”
Kirk marched onto the bridge and stopped in his track as all his senior officers, as one, stood up to welcome him. Without a word, he walked down to the well of the bridge until he stood where he had been a little over a day ago as Nero’s ship had slowly sunk into the blackhole. He stared up at the cracks in the hull and the blackness of space beyond it and smiled. What was it that Bones had said that first day? Disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence? Who would have thought he’d be right?
“Ready when you are, sir,” Uhura said from her station.
“All right Lieutenant,” he nodded as he adopted a parade rest. “Let’s get this show started.”
“If I may, sir,” Kirk heard Spock say from his right.
He looked over his shoulder to see the Vulcan stop slightly behind his right shoulder and come to parade rest. Blinking, he looked over his left shoulder and watched as Bones planted himself there, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl firmly set in his brows. He was about to question the two men when movement from his peripheral vision had him turning around to watch as Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty came to stand behind him. From her station, Uhura was standing at parade rest and staring at him, mouth quirked in a small smirk.
Kirk inhaled deeply and pushed down the sharp, overwhelming pain in his heart at seeing his crew standing behind him, and focused his gaze as the blank view screen flickered to life to show a gaggle of scowling admirals. He might be a stowaway and a cheater, but he’d just saved the Earth and he knew, without a doubt, that the crew, this crew, was now his crew.
(Part 8/8)