Five Times McCoy Couldn't Save Kirk
...And One Time He Did
Rating: PG-13 (blood and violence; 'character' death)
Pairings: none; McKirk friendship
Warnings: depictions of war violence
Summary: A series of snapshots into history involving Kirk and McCoy in their previous lives. Inspired by the fact that I'm a history major and love military history.
1.) The surgeon ducked his head instinctively at the cannon fire outside. How was he supposed to concentrate amongst all this tumult? He was doing delicate work. He cursed his friend the general for talking him into this post… General George Washington, that is. Why, if he hadn't been given the rank of colonel, he wouldn't have come. Trust George to know how to manipulate him. He huffed to himself as he finished bandaging a patient. Suddenly, Lieutenant Scott (also a Scot, oddly enough) rushed in, looking quite disheveled.
"Ah, Colonel! Ya better come quick!" he cried, "It's Lt. Kirk! He's been hit!"
Col. McCoy hurriedly ordered an underling to finish the bandaging and rushed out after Lt. Scott. He liked the brash and young Lt. Kirk. He had the makings of a great senior officer. Col. McCoy's heart sank upon seeing the young man. Lt. Kirk lay bleeding on the ground, trying not to cry out from fear and pain. The young man was pale; he wasn't going to survive. Half of his side had been ripped away. It was a miracle the boy was still alive.
"C-Col. McC-Coy," he stammered, his breath ragged, "It is g-good to s-see you. I sh-should like to-to d-d-die in the p-presence of a f-f-friend."
McCoy took the young man's hand in his own and gripped it tightly, holding it by his heart.
"I am sorry, James. I am truly sorry."
James Kirk smiled faintly. Then, it quickly faded, his eyes fell shut, and surgeon knew the young, promising man was dead. No one saw his tears later that evening as he wrote the boy's mother to tell her that her son would not return.
2.) Dr. McCoy was less than happy. He was a doctor. He was not supposed to be out on the battlefield, fighting and killing. It went against his entire nature. Unfortunately, the damn Yanks had to go and start a war with them and for what? All because the fine states of the new Confederacy wanted to govern their own affairs and keep alive their economy and way of life. Now, McCoy was forced to play the opposing roles of doctor and soldier. He giveth life, and he taketh it away. It was almost poetic. The doctor clutched his Enfield a little tighter. The thundering sound of hoof beats caused him to turn. Major James T. Kirk had arrived, his vivid blue eyes scanning the field of battle until they locked onto McCoy's.
"Ah, doctor, come here, will ya?" he asked.
"Yessir. Somethin' ya need, major?"
The major's voice lowered conspiratorially as he said, "Leonard, why are you here? Ya should be at the hospital."
"Maj. Spock ordered me to the battlefield, Jim. He threatened to court martial me if I didn' go."
"Well, I'm orderin' ya back. I technically outrank Spock. Hmph… a captain, and he didn't even give ya a horse. Unbelievable. Go on, doc, you don't belong here, takin' life. You try to give it back. Go on back to the field hospital. If Maj. Spock gives ya any trouble, tell 'im I ordered ya back."
"Jim, I gotta bad feelin' about this battle. Maybe I should stay nearby."
"You sure? It'll get pretty bad, Leonard."
"I'm sure. It can't be any worse than what goes on in the hospital."
Jim looked him over for a moment before fully acquiescing and telling him to get on a horse or stay out of sight. McCoy opted for the latter. His heartbeat quickened as they enemy appeared, a wall of dark blue growing ever larger as they closed in. He jumped at the volley of fire from the boys in grey in front of him. Shot after shot of cannon fire boomed from their Parrotts and Napoleons, firing everything from twelve pound solid shot to grape shot. Screams erupted on both sides as the men were torn apart. McCoy was horrified but couldn't look away from the carnage on the battlefield. Jim could be seen commanding the troops. He watched in horror as the young major jumped off his horse and rushed into the fray. The doctor blindly plunged in after his friend, bayonet at the ready.
"Leonard! Just the man I was looking for!" Jim shouted over the din, "A Yankee bayonet seems to have found my leg to be an appropriate target! Some of the boys got me back this far, but-"
"Don't worry, Jim! I'll fix ya up! Good as new!"
The major grinned up at him as McCoy led him off the field. There was nothing he could do, however, when a minie ball tore through Jim's chest. He let out a cry and fell to the ground, blood pouring from his chest. The doctor swore as he tried in vain as he tried to stop the bleeding. He looked Jim in the face. The clear blue eyes simply looked back in calm understanding, and McCoy realized that nothing he did would make any difference. Jim's eyes fluttered shut. The doctor was grateful that no one else was around. It meant that no one was there to see him weep over his friend's body.
3.) Dr. McCoy grinned at his friend, Capt. James Kirk, who lay on the bed in front of him, his arm in a sling, laughing at a joke the doctor/captain had just told.
"So, am I really going home, Leonard?" he asked.
"Certainly! You were shot in the arm! You've got to go home and recuperate. There's a car coming for you later today."
"Today? Really? But…"
"I… I came to say good-bye, Jim. I expect letters from you."
"But, Leonard-"
"Oh, be quiet. You know how many guys would kill to be going home? Be thankful. A lot of these boys are going home in far worse shape than you are. You know that, Jim."
The younger man fell silent. He'd only been in the hospital for about ten days, but that was more than enough time to witness the horrors of trench warfare firsthand. All things considered, Jim was lucky to have only been shot. Many came through and ended up losing arms, legs, and sometimes even parts of their faces. Dr. McCoy had worked on a few like that. It never got any easier. He broke the silence.
"Your uniform is all ready, too. Everything you need to go home."
"I guess. Say, I'm hungry, Leonard. Can we go for lunch?"
"Sure, Jim. Come on."
He helped the younger man out of bed, and they headed to the hospital mess. He clued Jim in to the happenings of the Great War. Then, he helped him into his uniform. Jim winced several times but made light of it.
"Damn Heinies… they made it so difficult to get dressed in the mornings."
McCoy just smiled at him. After a walk outside, they received word that Jim's ride would be there in about an hour. Therefore, an hour later, they had Jim all packed and ready to ship out. A car was waiting for him.
"You'd better write me, Jim," McCoy said, "I'm going to be looking forward to your letters."
"Only if you promise to write me, as well."
"Certainly. I… I'll miss you, Jim. You're the best friend I've had here."
Jim didn't seem able to speak. He simply wrapped his good arm around McCoy, who hugged back and tried not to cry or hurt him. Once they let go, Jim got into the car. McCoy watched until the sound of the engine died out completely. That night, one of the nurses who worked there, Christine Chapel, knocked softly on his door and entered, clutching a telegram. She had to be prompted to speak.
"Well, Dr. McCoy, I was given this message for you," she stammered nervously, "Capt. James T. Kirk, U. S. Army, was… was killed in an automobile accident earlier this afternoon. They say his neck was broken almost immediately. He felt no pain."
McCoy supposed the last part was meant to give him comfort. It didn't.
4.) Chief Surgeon Capt. Leonard McCoy ('Bones' to his friends at the MASH unit) knew that the young man on the table in front of him never had a chance. Something in the boy's clear blue eyes made him want to try whatever he could, though. Lt. Uhura, a pretty black girl, and Lt. Chapel, a good-looking blonde, were the two nurses working with him that day. Later, when he's drowning his sorrows at the Officer's Club, he tries to think of how he shouldn't be so hard on himself because the kid never had a chance. Then he orders another shot.
5.) It had started off like any other day. Then, the news arrived. Planes had been flown into the Twin Towers… then the Pentagon… then some empty field in Pennsylvania. Dr. McCoy immediately began to worry. One of his best friends, Jim Kirk, was a New York City firefighter. Unfortunately, he had no time to worry as soon as the casualties started pouring in. He quickly began setting up a color-coded system of determining who would need immediate surgery and treatment, who could hold off on surgery for a while, and who would only need superficial treatment like stitches and bandages… and also who was already dead. McCoy was there for at least twenty-four hours before he went down to the morgue with several New Jersey and New York state troopers to help identify bodies. One was terribly easy. Jim Kirk was covered in dirt and debris, as well as lacerations, abrasions, and blood. McCoy excused himself from the room and rushed to a nearby linen closet. He shut himself inside and cried as hard as he could. How on Earth was he supposed to tell Jim's mother?
...And One Time He Did
Dr. Leonard 'Bones' McCoy, CMO of the USS Enterprise, was currently mucking around inside the body of his best friend and captain, Jim Kirk. Jim had been wounded and incapacitated on an away mission. Bones stomach dropped when Spock appeared on the transporter pad holding a blood-soaked Jim. The doctor was now patching together bone, muscle, and organs. The nurses assisting him (Chapel, Baker, and Houlihan) were as silent as ever, not daring to speak out of fear for Bones' sharp tongue. However, after a marathon of surgery, Jim was all back in one piece and resting on a biobed. Bones sat with him the whole time, smiling inwardly as various members of the alpha shift showed up to visit. Spock was first and most often, followed by Chief Engineer Scott (Scotty), then Chekov and Sulu, and finally Uhura, who was trying to pretend she didn't care as much as she did; Bones saw through it. The doctor, on the other hand, never left the captain's side unless absolutely necessary. He even slept there, folding his arms on the bed in front of him and resting his head on them. He awoke on the second day to the feeling of a hand just barely stroking his hair. He didn't want to move, but he did anyway. Jim was smiling at him, his blue eyes tired and half-lidded.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he said in a raspy voice.
"It ain't morning; it's about nine o'clock at night," Bones replied, "How ya feelin', Jim?"
"Can't hardly feel anything… I'm guessing you got me on good drugs."
"The best you're not allergic to, kid."
Jim kept smiling, and that made Bones smile, too.
"Have you been here the whole time, Bones? Since I got out of surgery?" Jim asked.
"Yep," he admitted, "I know you don't like hospitals, so I wanted to be here when you woke up. Be a friendly face, y'know?"
"Are you gonna stay 'til tomorrow morning?"
"I'll stay as long as I can. I think tomorrow morning fits into that."
Jim reached out and took one of Bones' hands in his own and whispered, "Thanks for patchin' me up," his eyes falling shut. He fell asleep without letting go of the doctor's hand… and Bones was okay with that.
Rating: PG-13 (blood and violence; 'character' death)
Pairings: none; McKirk friendship
Warnings: depictions of war violence
Summary: A series of snapshots into history involving Kirk and McCoy in their previous lives. Inspired by the fact that I'm a history major and love military history.
1.) The surgeon ducked his head instinctively at the cannon fire outside. How was he supposed to concentrate amongst all this tumult? He was doing delicate work. He cursed his friend the general for talking him into this post… General George Washington, that is. Why, if he hadn't been given the rank of colonel, he wouldn't have come. Trust George to know how to manipulate him. He huffed to himself as he finished bandaging a patient. Suddenly, Lieutenant Scott (also a Scot, oddly enough) rushed in, looking quite disheveled.
"Ah, Colonel! Ya better come quick!" he cried, "It's Lt. Kirk! He's been hit!"
Col. McCoy hurriedly ordered an underling to finish the bandaging and rushed out after Lt. Scott. He liked the brash and young Lt. Kirk. He had the makings of a great senior officer. Col. McCoy's heart sank upon seeing the young man. Lt. Kirk lay bleeding on the ground, trying not to cry out from fear and pain. The young man was pale; he wasn't going to survive. Half of his side had been ripped away. It was a miracle the boy was still alive.
"C-Col. McC-Coy," he stammered, his breath ragged, "It is g-good to s-see you. I sh-should like to-to d-d-die in the p-presence of a f-f-friend."
McCoy took the young man's hand in his own and gripped it tightly, holding it by his heart.
"I am sorry, James. I am truly sorry."
James Kirk smiled faintly. Then, it quickly faded, his eyes fell shut, and surgeon knew the young, promising man was dead. No one saw his tears later that evening as he wrote the boy's mother to tell her that her son would not return.
2.) Dr. McCoy was less than happy. He was a doctor. He was not supposed to be out on the battlefield, fighting and killing. It went against his entire nature. Unfortunately, the damn Yanks had to go and start a war with them and for what? All because the fine states of the new Confederacy wanted to govern their own affairs and keep alive their economy and way of life. Now, McCoy was forced to play the opposing roles of doctor and soldier. He giveth life, and he taketh it away. It was almost poetic. The doctor clutched his Enfield a little tighter. The thundering sound of hoof beats caused him to turn. Major James T. Kirk had arrived, his vivid blue eyes scanning the field of battle until they locked onto McCoy's.
"Ah, doctor, come here, will ya?" he asked.
"Yessir. Somethin' ya need, major?"
The major's voice lowered conspiratorially as he said, "Leonard, why are you here? Ya should be at the hospital."
"Maj. Spock ordered me to the battlefield, Jim. He threatened to court martial me if I didn' go."
"Well, I'm orderin' ya back. I technically outrank Spock. Hmph… a captain, and he didn't even give ya a horse. Unbelievable. Go on, doc, you don't belong here, takin' life. You try to give it back. Go on back to the field hospital. If Maj. Spock gives ya any trouble, tell 'im I ordered ya back."
"Jim, I gotta bad feelin' about this battle. Maybe I should stay nearby."
"You sure? It'll get pretty bad, Leonard."
"I'm sure. It can't be any worse than what goes on in the hospital."
Jim looked him over for a moment before fully acquiescing and telling him to get on a horse or stay out of sight. McCoy opted for the latter. His heartbeat quickened as they enemy appeared, a wall of dark blue growing ever larger as they closed in. He jumped at the volley of fire from the boys in grey in front of him. Shot after shot of cannon fire boomed from their Parrotts and Napoleons, firing everything from twelve pound solid shot to grape shot. Screams erupted on both sides as the men were torn apart. McCoy was horrified but couldn't look away from the carnage on the battlefield. Jim could be seen commanding the troops. He watched in horror as the young major jumped off his horse and rushed into the fray. The doctor blindly plunged in after his friend, bayonet at the ready.
"Leonard! Just the man I was looking for!" Jim shouted over the din, "A Yankee bayonet seems to have found my leg to be an appropriate target! Some of the boys got me back this far, but-"
"Don't worry, Jim! I'll fix ya up! Good as new!"
The major grinned up at him as McCoy led him off the field. There was nothing he could do, however, when a minie ball tore through Jim's chest. He let out a cry and fell to the ground, blood pouring from his chest. The doctor swore as he tried in vain as he tried to stop the bleeding. He looked Jim in the face. The clear blue eyes simply looked back in calm understanding, and McCoy realized that nothing he did would make any difference. Jim's eyes fluttered shut. The doctor was grateful that no one else was around. It meant that no one was there to see him weep over his friend's body.
3.) Dr. McCoy grinned at his friend, Capt. James Kirk, who lay on the bed in front of him, his arm in a sling, laughing at a joke the doctor/captain had just told.
"So, am I really going home, Leonard?" he asked.
"Certainly! You were shot in the arm! You've got to go home and recuperate. There's a car coming for you later today."
"Today? Really? But…"
"I… I came to say good-bye, Jim. I expect letters from you."
"But, Leonard-"
"Oh, be quiet. You know how many guys would kill to be going home? Be thankful. A lot of these boys are going home in far worse shape than you are. You know that, Jim."
The younger man fell silent. He'd only been in the hospital for about ten days, but that was more than enough time to witness the horrors of trench warfare firsthand. All things considered, Jim was lucky to have only been shot. Many came through and ended up losing arms, legs, and sometimes even parts of their faces. Dr. McCoy had worked on a few like that. It never got any easier. He broke the silence.
"Your uniform is all ready, too. Everything you need to go home."
"I guess. Say, I'm hungry, Leonard. Can we go for lunch?"
"Sure, Jim. Come on."
He helped the younger man out of bed, and they headed to the hospital mess. He clued Jim in to the happenings of the Great War. Then, he helped him into his uniform. Jim winced several times but made light of it.
"Damn Heinies… they made it so difficult to get dressed in the mornings."
McCoy just smiled at him. After a walk outside, they received word that Jim's ride would be there in about an hour. Therefore, an hour later, they had Jim all packed and ready to ship out. A car was waiting for him.
"You'd better write me, Jim," McCoy said, "I'm going to be looking forward to your letters."
"Only if you promise to write me, as well."
"Certainly. I… I'll miss you, Jim. You're the best friend I've had here."
Jim didn't seem able to speak. He simply wrapped his good arm around McCoy, who hugged back and tried not to cry or hurt him. Once they let go, Jim got into the car. McCoy watched until the sound of the engine died out completely. That night, one of the nurses who worked there, Christine Chapel, knocked softly on his door and entered, clutching a telegram. She had to be prompted to speak.
"Well, Dr. McCoy, I was given this message for you," she stammered nervously, "Capt. James T. Kirk, U. S. Army, was… was killed in an automobile accident earlier this afternoon. They say his neck was broken almost immediately. He felt no pain."
McCoy supposed the last part was meant to give him comfort. It didn't.
4.) Chief Surgeon Capt. Leonard McCoy ('Bones' to his friends at the MASH unit) knew that the young man on the table in front of him never had a chance. Something in the boy's clear blue eyes made him want to try whatever he could, though. Lt. Uhura, a pretty black girl, and Lt. Chapel, a good-looking blonde, were the two nurses working with him that day. Later, when he's drowning his sorrows at the Officer's Club, he tries to think of how he shouldn't be so hard on himself because the kid never had a chance. Then he orders another shot.
5.) It had started off like any other day. Then, the news arrived. Planes had been flown into the Twin Towers… then the Pentagon… then some empty field in Pennsylvania. Dr. McCoy immediately began to worry. One of his best friends, Jim Kirk, was a New York City firefighter. Unfortunately, he had no time to worry as soon as the casualties started pouring in. He quickly began setting up a color-coded system of determining who would need immediate surgery and treatment, who could hold off on surgery for a while, and who would only need superficial treatment like stitches and bandages… and also who was already dead. McCoy was there for at least twenty-four hours before he went down to the morgue with several New Jersey and New York state troopers to help identify bodies. One was terribly easy. Jim Kirk was covered in dirt and debris, as well as lacerations, abrasions, and blood. McCoy excused himself from the room and rushed to a nearby linen closet. He shut himself inside and cried as hard as he could. How on Earth was he supposed to tell Jim's mother?
...And One Time He Did
Dr. Leonard 'Bones' McCoy, CMO of the USS Enterprise, was currently mucking around inside the body of his best friend and captain, Jim Kirk. Jim had been wounded and incapacitated on an away mission. Bones stomach dropped when Spock appeared on the transporter pad holding a blood-soaked Jim. The doctor was now patching together bone, muscle, and organs. The nurses assisting him (Chapel, Baker, and Houlihan) were as silent as ever, not daring to speak out of fear for Bones' sharp tongue. However, after a marathon of surgery, Jim was all back in one piece and resting on a biobed. Bones sat with him the whole time, smiling inwardly as various members of the alpha shift showed up to visit. Spock was first and most often, followed by Chief Engineer Scott (Scotty), then Chekov and Sulu, and finally Uhura, who was trying to pretend she didn't care as much as she did; Bones saw through it. The doctor, on the other hand, never left the captain's side unless absolutely necessary. He even slept there, folding his arms on the bed in front of him and resting his head on them. He awoke on the second day to the feeling of a hand just barely stroking his hair. He didn't want to move, but he did anyway. Jim was smiling at him, his blue eyes tired and half-lidded.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he said in a raspy voice.
"It ain't morning; it's about nine o'clock at night," Bones replied, "How ya feelin', Jim?"
"Can't hardly feel anything… I'm guessing you got me on good drugs."
"The best you're not allergic to, kid."
Jim kept smiling, and that made Bones smile, too.
"Have you been here the whole time, Bones? Since I got out of surgery?" Jim asked.
"Yep," he admitted, "I know you don't like hospitals, so I wanted to be here when you woke up. Be a friendly face, y'know?"
"Are you gonna stay 'til tomorrow morning?"
"I'll stay as long as I can. I think tomorrow morning fits into that."
Jim reached out and took one of Bones' hands in his own and whispered, "Thanks for patchin' me up," his eyes falling shut. He fell asleep without letting go of the doctor's hand… and Bones was okay with that.