Why?
Title: Why?
author: Kat
Word Count: 548
Fandom: Star Trek XI/Doom x-over
Summary Bones is gone.
Notes: Events of Gone from Jim's POV. Un-beta'd. I'm not as happy with this one, but I don't hate it either.
He didn’t even leave a note.
Jim sits on his bed, staring at his hands, wondering what it was that he did wrong. Bones, his best friend Bones, his Bones, is gone, and it must have been something Jim did, because he wouldn’t have just up and left without giving him a reason otherwise, right? But he can’t think of what he could have done. Bones had been fine up until a week or so prior, but even then he hadn’t acted angry (and Leonard McCoy was one to let you know when he was angry) or even a little upset…just…kind of sad.
Jim wonders if maybe he should have pried more.
He picks up his personal PADD and scrolls through his messages until he comes across The One. The one that told him of Leonard McCoy’s official resignation from Starfleet.
He’d just got out of a long, rather tedious meeting with a few of the Admirals--questions had abounded- and had been eager to get back to his rooms, change, and then go pester Bones, maybe drag him out for a drink or seven. He'd been in a great mood---it was raining rather heavily, a summer storm, one of his favorite kinds of weather. Bones hated it, and Jim was gleefully planning on dragging him all the way across town in it.
But the doctor hadn’t answered the Comm, and breaking into his room had yielded nothing but the fact that most of his friend’s stuff was still there, tucked neatly away in various places---his medical journals, his personal PADD---everything except his shoes was right where it should be. Maybe the neatness should have been a sign, but really, who just walked off without the majority of their stuff?
Jim had decided to wait for his friend to get back from wherever it was he’d wandered off to, reclining on the twin sized bed. It still smelled like detergent, but there was a faint trace of Bones lingering on the pillow. Jim smiled.
It was an hour later when, shifting disinterestedly through his various memos and data files and the odd trashy romance novel stored on his PADD, he found the notification. Jim had read it three times before the meaning had sunk in, leaving him cold. He’d started at it dumbly for a moment, then re-read it again, just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. They weren’t.
He’d traced the notification, hoping this was someone’s idea of a sick joke, and, once the authentication of the message was confirmed, he’d torn up the room, looking for something, anything, a note, maybe, that would tell him why.
He didn’t find anything. Nothing. Everything was almost perfectly innocent in it’s being there, and even Bones’s PADD yielded nothing but medical notes, patient files, and links to a few journals with pages bookmarked here and there. No personal notes or entries that might say why…
His next course of action was to start sending out messages of his own, asking. No one knew. All he was able to glean was that Bones had sent in a request for an honorable discharge, sighting his tour of duty as over and done with. He wanted to move on, maybe work in a hospital somewhere, he’d stated. This had been a week and a half ago. The paper work had just gone through. Apparently, everyone thought Jim had been notified. His signature was, after all, on the appropriate paperwork.
He hadn’t known, though. He hadn't!
So now, here he is, sitting on his bed, staring at his hands and wondering why?
Back to Gone
author: Kat
Word Count: 548
Fandom: Star Trek XI/Doom x-over
Summary Bones is gone.
Notes: Events of Gone from Jim's POV. Un-beta'd. I'm not as happy with this one, but I don't hate it either.
He didn’t even leave a note.
Jim sits on his bed, staring at his hands, wondering what it was that he did wrong. Bones, his best friend Bones, his Bones, is gone, and it must have been something Jim did, because he wouldn’t have just up and left without giving him a reason otherwise, right? But he can’t think of what he could have done. Bones had been fine up until a week or so prior, but even then he hadn’t acted angry (and Leonard McCoy was one to let you know when he was angry) or even a little upset…just…kind of sad.
Jim wonders if maybe he should have pried more.
He picks up his personal PADD and scrolls through his messages until he comes across The One. The one that told him of Leonard McCoy’s official resignation from Starfleet.
He’d just got out of a long, rather tedious meeting with a few of the Admirals--questions had abounded- and had been eager to get back to his rooms, change, and then go pester Bones, maybe drag him out for a drink or seven. He'd been in a great mood---it was raining rather heavily, a summer storm, one of his favorite kinds of weather. Bones hated it, and Jim was gleefully planning on dragging him all the way across town in it.
But the doctor hadn’t answered the Comm, and breaking into his room had yielded nothing but the fact that most of his friend’s stuff was still there, tucked neatly away in various places---his medical journals, his personal PADD---everything except his shoes was right where it should be. Maybe the neatness should have been a sign, but really, who just walked off without the majority of their stuff?
Jim had decided to wait for his friend to get back from wherever it was he’d wandered off to, reclining on the twin sized bed. It still smelled like detergent, but there was a faint trace of Bones lingering on the pillow. Jim smiled.
It was an hour later when, shifting disinterestedly through his various memos and data files and the odd trashy romance novel stored on his PADD, he found the notification. Jim had read it three times before the meaning had sunk in, leaving him cold. He’d started at it dumbly for a moment, then re-read it again, just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. They weren’t.
He’d traced the notification, hoping this was someone’s idea of a sick joke, and, once the authentication of the message was confirmed, he’d torn up the room, looking for something, anything, a note, maybe, that would tell him why.
He didn’t find anything. Nothing. Everything was almost perfectly innocent in it’s being there, and even Bones’s PADD yielded nothing but medical notes, patient files, and links to a few journals with pages bookmarked here and there. No personal notes or entries that might say why…
His next course of action was to start sending out messages of his own, asking. No one knew. All he was able to glean was that Bones had sent in a request for an honorable discharge, sighting his tour of duty as over and done with. He wanted to move on, maybe work in a hospital somewhere, he’d stated. This had been a week and a half ago. The paper work had just gone through. Apparently, everyone thought Jim had been notified. His signature was, after all, on the appropriate paperwork.
He hadn’t known, though. He hadn't!
So now, here he is, sitting on his bed, staring at his hands and wondering why?
Back to Gone