Chapter Text
For one long second, there’s nothing. The next, everything snaps back into place.
The endless rocks stick up all around them, cleared of mysterious miasma. Jim straightens, registering the cold metal of his phaser in his hand. Beside him is Spock, sans transmuter and instead also plus one phaser.
There’s no sign of Sylvia.
Behind him, someone groans—a delightfully familiar groan. ‘…Jim?’
‘Bones!’ Jim spins around. ‘You okay?’
Bones nods, pushing himself up out of the pile, as the other two show their own signs of waking. ‘I…think I’m alright,’ he says, grimacing as he runs a hand through his hair. ‘Feels…feels like she’s gone.’
She’s gone. Destroying the transmuter worked. Only at this exact moment does Jim process how little he believed it would.
He sucks in a breath, choking hard on it.
‘Jim?’ Bones prods, shoving himself into a kneel as he looks Jim up and down. A familiar worried wrinkle appears in his forehead.
Somehow, the sight of that wrinkle is what Jim needs to force his body to move. He drops to his own knees, the flood of pain it triggers unimportant as he yanks Bones into a tight hug.
His throat closes up on him, all articulate thoughts vanishing from his mind.
Thankfully, Bones has never needed words to understand Jim. Hugging him back just as tightly, Bones presses one hand against Jim’s hair. ‘I’m alright, Jim,’ he says softly. ‘I promise.’
Jim draws in a shuddering breath as—to his right—Sulu lets out a groan of his own.
‘Did someone whack me in the head?’ he says. ‘Cause I feel like someone whacked me in the head?’
Forcing himself to draw back from Bones enough to see Sulu and Scotty, Jim smiles at Sulu. ‘Honestly, probably not that far off the mark.’
Sulu blinks at the sight of him. ‘Captain?’
Scotty sits up, shaking his head. ‘Jim, laddie? What’re you doing down here? Where’s Jackson?’
Jim’s smile falls.
‘Jackson’s dead, Scotty,’ he says sombrely. Both Scotty and Sulu stare at him in horror. ‘It’s a long story. I’ll explain once we’re back to the ship.’
Scotty and Sulu exchange glances.
‘Weren’t we in in a castle?’ Sulu says with a frown. ‘Where’d it all go?’
Jim sighs. ‘Everything disappeared when Spock broke the…well, I’ll explain that bit later. It…’
‘Captain.’ Spock’s voice draws their attention.
Jim shoves himself to his feet, wincing as his many aches and pains gleefully make their presence known. Bones is up and by his side before Jim has a chance to hide it, wrapping his arm around Jim’s waist. Jim indulges him. Wasn’t that long ago that he thought Bones and his mother-henning ways were lost forever.
Besides, Jim is in a lot of pain.
They make their way slowly over to Spock’s side, Sulu and Scotty following, all coming to stand in a semi-circle around what Spock’s found. At first, all any of them can do is stare. There, by Spock’s feet, are two tiny puppet-like creatures: arms and legs thin, blue fur poking up every which way. What passes for their faces consists only of tentacles, like really tiny, really cute Cthulhus.
‘It’s them,’ Jim says. ‘Korob and Sylvia. The transmuter was all that gave them their forms.’
‘Fascinating,’ Spock says, that curiosity reigniting in his eyes. ‘They’re totally alien to our galaxy, creatures beyond our scientific comprehension. Perhaps if we…’
Before he can finish, the small creatures collapse, smoke rising from the bodies. When the smoke clears, there is nothing left behind.
Spock tilts his head to the side ever-so-slightly. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘I was going to say that we could preserve and study them. That does not appear to be possible. What truly intriguing creatures.’
Bones shivers. ‘Can’t say I’m disappointed,’ he says, shifting closer where he’s holding Jim up. ‘If I never have to meet another one of them again, it’ll be too soon.’
‘I second that.’ Jim uses his free hand to find his communicator—thankfully restored to him—and flips it open. ‘Let’s get out of here. Kirk to Enterprise, come in.’
‘Jim!’ Uhura’s voice comes through loud and clear. ‘You’re alive! What about everyone else, are they okay?’
‘We’re all fine, Nyota,’ Jim promises. ‘Mostly anyway. Five to beam up.’
The first thing Jim notices is the familiar beeps and bustle of Sickbay. The building tension is punctured by the equally familiar noise of Spock and Bones arguing over top of him, sending a rush of relief through Jim.
‘…I do not believe Jim would wish you to…’
‘Yeah, well, Jim can stick his head in a replicator and turn it to spaghetti for all I care!’
This threat from Bones is both unprovoked and confusing—exactly how Bones likes it.
‘Wow, Bones,’ Jim says without opening his eyes. His head already hurts enough. ‘What’d I do to deserve that?’
‘You wandered all over a flippin’ castle with a damn concussion, that’s what you did,’ Bones says, relief dripping from every word he says. ‘Condition you were in, you should’ve escaped the second you got the chance.’
‘Like hell,’ Jim says vehemently, keeping his eyes closed. His head is pounding, nausea swirling around in his throat.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ Bones says. A hand squeezes Jim’s shoulder while another goes to brush his hair away from his eyes. ‘Come on, open those eyes for me, you stubborn little idiot.’
A laugh bursts out of Jim, making his chest throb. Nonetheless, he does as he’s told—for once—peeling his eyes open in a squint.
The blinding lights of Sickbay have, to Jim's relief, been turned down over his biobed, meaning it’s not as painful to do as it could've been. Nausea and stabbing pain crash over him, preventing him from opening them fully. His vision clears to reveal Bones right by his head. Spock’s on the other side, leaning in.
‘Ugh,’ Jim says. ‘What happened? How’d I end up in here?’
Last he remembers, they were about to beam up.
‘You do not recall?’ Spock’s eyebrows draw together.
‘Not surprising given the concussion,’ Bones interjects, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into Jim’s temple. ‘You fainted straight-out the second we beamed up. Gave us all a hell of a start.’
‘Sorry,’ Jim says.
Bones rolls his eyes. ‘Nah, you’re not.’
Jim snickers, slowly trying to sit up. Bones, thankfully, doesn't stop him, instead helping to prop him up with pillows.
‘I didn't feel this bad before,’ Jim says. ‘What gives?’
‘Adrenaline's one hell of a drug,’ Bones says wryly. ‘Kept you going long enough for us to beam up, then it ran out. Transporter beam didn’t help either, not in that condition.’
Jim squints at him. ‘Huh. Guess that checks out.’
Bones sits back in his chair, shaking his head. ‘On top of that concussion,’ he says. ‘You also had significant blood-loss. Don’t suppose you noticed getting your chest ripped open, did you?’
‘I did,’ Jim confirms.
‘Well, you could’ve mentioned it.’ Bones reaches up to massage at his nose-bridge and sighs. ‘You’ll be alright. I sorted out all the cuts. You’ll be sore for a while but they’ve healed nicely. That said, I don’t want you doing any physical exercise for at least a week. Concussion’s still there, not much I can do other than let it heal itself. You’re off-duty for three days; light duty for four more. Got it?’
Jim’s first instinct is to complain—he doesn’t need that long to heal. Something about Bones’ expression, however, stops him. Beneath his friend’s usual belligerent expression is something fragile and exhausted, something Jim hasn’t seen since Khan.
‘Whatever,’ he says instead. ‘Can I at least leave?’
Bones rolls his eyes again. ‘Only if you go right to your quarters and stay there, numbskull.’
‘Do I at least get food, oh jailer?’
‘If you behave.’
Jim sighs heavily. ‘Dang it. Spock, will you bring me food? Under the table, so to speak.’
Spock inclines an eyebrow while Bones rolls his eyes—again, he’s giving his eyes a work-out today. ‘Oh, shut it, Jim,’ Bones says, leaning forward and stabbing him violently in the neck with a hypospray. ‘Cool your heels and I’ll bring you something to eat once I’m done with my shift, you idiot.’
Jim frowns. ‘Aren’t you done now?’ He has no idea how much time passed down on Pyris Seven, but it must’ve been a good few hours, on top of the seven hours Bones’d already done.
Spock coughs deliberately. ‘Doctor McCoy has claimed that, as he experienced no injury, he is capable of taking over for the remainder of the second shift that began while we were on Pyris Seven.’ Despite Spock’s avowed disapproval of showing emotion, he loads his words down with a healthy degree of scepticism.
‘Bones!’ Jim scowls at him. ‘You need rest!’
‘Oh and I’m supposed to be taking advice from you, Mr-Mixes-Stims-With-Caffeine?’ Bones scowls back. ‘I’m fine, Jim! It’s not like the Sickbay’s that busy.’
‘One could argue,’ Spock says. ‘That is more reason for you to rest.’
‘Shut up, you green-blooded hobgoblin,’ Bones snaps, aiming a venomous glare at Spock.
Jim frowns. That must’ve been what the two of them were arguing about when he woke up. ‘How’re Scotty and Sulu?’ he says, interrupting their argument before it can go any further.
‘They are well, physically,’ Spock says.
‘Scans were all clear,’ Bones adds with a shrug. ‘Brain scans showed some unusual activity but that’s to be expected. I dismissed ‘em both, though they’re off-duty for three days and they’re having another scan at the end of that to make sure nothing changes.’
Interesting how Scotty and Sulu are off-duty while Bones isn’t, despite having exactly the same ailment. Jim and Spock meet each other’s eyes, before looking back at Bones, who’s trying to appear oblivious, checking over the PADD in his hand. ‘Scotty headed down to Engineering, against my orders I might add, though he’s probably happiest down there,’ Bones continues talking without looking up. ‘Keenser went after him. Hikaru’s gone back to his quarters. Pavel was heading over to check on him.’
In that case, Sulu’ll be well taken care of. Chekov’ll probably drag him into some holo-game and he’ll soon be distracted from thinking too much about what happened down on Pyris Seven. Scotty’ll be alright too, he’s never happier than when surrounded by the Enterprise’s beautiful engines—and that liquor distillery that Jim officially knows nothing about (unofficially, Jim was helping him put it together a few weeks ago).
Jim draws in a breath. ‘What did you tell them about my injuries?’ he asks carefully.
Bones and Spock exchange glances. They know what he’s really asking.
‘I told ‘em that you musta hit your head harder than us when we fell through the floor,’ Bones says. ‘Which is true, by the way. Then that you got yourself into a literal catfight.’
‘We decided that it was…’ Spock pauses a moment before carefully saying ‘…unnecessary to inform Mr. Sulu of his involvement in your second head-injury. He and Mr. Scott are aware they were used as guards by our captors. That is all.’
‘Wouldn’t do him or anyone much good,’ Bones adds. ‘It’d only make him feel guilty for something he had no control over.’
Jim nods, satisfied. ‘They don’t remember anything about what Sylvia made them do?’
‘Not a thing,’ Bones says. ‘They remember…her taking control. That’s it, everything after's gone.’ As he speaks, Bones’ grip on his PADD tightens.
Jim glances at Spock, who inclines an eyebrow slightly. Once more, they’re on the same page.
With a slight tilt of his lips, Spock inclines his chin. ‘If all is well here, I shall take my leave. Nyota wished to spend this evening meal together.’
‘You better run,’ Bones says immediately. ‘Don’t wanna make your girlfriend mad.’
‘I assure you, Doctor, I will endeavour not to do so,’ Spock says. ‘Captain, I will write the report on Pyris Seven for you to read through once you’re able.’
‘Not for at least three days!’ Bones says.
‘Bones…’
‘Shut it, Jim.’ Bones turns his glare on Spock. ‘Not for three days.’
Spock tilts his head a little. ‘I expected at least a week.’
Before Bones can stop it, a smile flits across his face. ‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. Shoo, you crazy hobgoblin. You got a date to get to.’
Spock needs no further encouragement. He turns on his heel and strides out of Sickbay. Once the doors slide shut behind him, Jim tries to sit up straight. He mostly succeeds.
‘I’ll head back to my quarters, I guess,’ he says, swinging his legs out to hang off the bed.
Grumbling, Bones assents. ‘Fine. Don’t keel over.’
Jim grins. ‘I would never!’
With that dramatically ironic comment delivered, Jim rises to his feet and topples over onto Bones, who squawks in concern as he catches Jim.
‘Maybe I was too confident,’ Jim says.
‘You’re always too confident,’ Bones says snidely.
Jim allows his weight to fall more heavily onto Bones, going floppy. ‘Mean.’
‘But true.’ Bones scowls, eyeing him worriedly. ‘I might need to run a few more scans if you’re feeling this weak…’
‘Bones. You’ve already run every test possible on me, I’m sure. I just need rest. In my quarters. Please?’
Bones frowns—it’s his contemplative frown—and finally sighs. ‘Okay, fine, whatever.’ He shoves the PADD onto the biobed with his other hand and hefts Jim up so Jim’s arm is over Bones’ shoulders. ‘Come on, I’ll get you back to your quarters, since you’re clearly not making it there on your own. Infant.’
‘Jackass.’ Jim returns, taking back some of his own weight to help out.
‘Baby.’
‘Quack.’
As they continue to bicker, Bones steers them towards the doors out of Sickbay. Jim glances over his shoulder. Chapel’s watching them, a relieved smile on her face. When their eyes meet, Chapel mouths “thank you” at him and Jim briefly lets a victorious smirk flit across his face in answer, before he returns his attention back to Bones, who’s continuing to grumble, oblivious.
Victory is Jim’s. Sure feels good for something in this day to go right.
Acting like some kind of three-legged beast, they manage to reach Jim’s quarters. Once inside, Bones eyes the small lounge, then looks through towards the bedroom. ‘Bed or couch?’
In answer, Jim lets himself flop onto the couch.
Bones heaves a sigh. ‘Right, there you are. Now.’
Before he can leave, Jim clings to him like a koala bear to a eucalyptus tree. ‘Nope, no escape. You fell right into my trap.’
Bones scowls, shoving at him. ‘Jim, what the hell? I have work to do!’
‘I promise you that Chapel’s already signed you off. A hundred percent guaranteed.’
‘Jim!’
‘Bones, seriously. You need to rest. Come on, how about we watch a holo?’ Jim pulls on his arm.
‘No screens or holograms with a concussion,’ Bones says sternly. ‘Especially not those flashing-light extravaganzas you’re obsessed with.’
‘They’re action holos,’ Jim says. ‘And they’re fun. But we don’t have to watch one of those. How about one of your period holos? You love those!’
Bones freezes, eyeing him with concern. ‘That concussion must messing with you worse than I thought.’
‘Bones.’
Bones rolls his eyes. ‘Jim, you know I can go sign myself back in. Christine can’t stop me.’
Jim scowls at him. ‘In that case, Captain’s orders. No more working for you.’
Bones splutters. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘Yeah, I can. Captain, remember?’ Jim grins his best Cheshire Cat grin. ‘I win.’
‘I overrule you in medical matters.’
‘Not in your own medical matters, idiot.’ Jim pulls on his arm. ‘Come on. Let’s have a nice evening and enjoy one of your stupid period holos.’
Bones grits his teeth. ‘I need to go get you your meal,’ he points out.
If Bones escapes this room, he won’t easily come back in.
‘I’m not…’ Before Jim finishes his (admittedly blatant) lie, there’s a knock on the door.
They both exchange glances, before Jim pulls away from Bones and goes to answer it. There stands Spock holding a tray of food (consisting of two main meals, two drinks, and two desserts).
Spock inclines an eyebrow. ‘Might I presume you successfully got the Doctor into your quarters?’
‘Naturally.’
Behind him, Bones squawks again. ‘You two were scheming right in front of me!’
‘Yes. Yes, we were.’ Jim grins widely, as he takes the tray of food. ‘Thanks, Spock. Go enjoy your meal with Nyota.’
Spock nods. ‘And you with Doctor McCoy.’
With that, he leaves, looking pleased with himself.
Jim closes the door and plonks the tray on the coffee table. ‘See, Bones? Problem solved. No more excuses. You’re staying.’
Bones gives in, dropping onto the couch and scowling at the food as though it personally ruined his day. ‘I’m guessing Spock didn’t actually need to leave when he did.’
Jim shrugs, taking the seat next to him and wincing when his chest flares up at the movement. ‘You would’ve made Spock help me.’
‘Too right, I would’ve.’ Bones eyes him maliciously, sitting forward and snatching one of the plates—they’re both the same, mac and cheese, presumably using replacement dairy products, since it’s one of Jim’s many allergies—and shoving it at Jim. It’s followed up by a fork. ‘Eat. You pest.’
He follows it up by grabbing his own plate and Jim relaxes, beginning on his own meal. They work their way through the tray’s contents in silence and, after that, Jim flicks on the holo-projector, swiping through until he lands on Good Old Danny , Bones’s favourite period holo, set during the Earth 1980s in the old USA (allegedly). It’s incredibly cheesy, incredibly inaccurate to the period in question (they somehow managed to mix up costume-styling from all across the 20th and 21st centuries; even some 19th century garb has gotten in there on occasion), incredibly badly-acted and over-the-top (there’s this one Vulcan actor who absolutely refuses to put in the least bit of effort to deliver his lines in any way other than flat; he’s Jim’s favourite character), and also totally nonsensical in plot.
Bones absolutely adores it. So do Uhura and Gaila, for that matter, Jim’s heard the three of them arguing about the latest episode (it’s been running for ten long, long years) over food in the mess hall, both here on the Enterprise and back in the Academy, many a time.
Selecting the one of the more recent episodes—it doesn’t matter whether Jim has seen any episodes leading up to it; the plot’s so convoluted and illogical that things like context don’t exist—Jim sits back and lets it play.
The lights have dimmed around them and Bones has slowly relaxed by the time the latest episode ends. Jim doesn’t attempt to turn the light on. Things like this have always been easier in the dark.
‘Bones?’ he says quietly. Nothing more needs to be said.
Bones lets out a sigh. ‘I’m okay, Jim.'
‘Liar.’
This prompts another sigh. ‘What d’you want me to say, Jim?’
Jim doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He flexes his hands in his lap, thinking carefully through his many hours of therapy—he needed and still needs so freaking much, it should make itself useful one of these days.
Be honest, Enid would say. Alright.
‘I didn’t know if I could save you, Bones,’ he says.
‘I never doubted you.’
‘Well, I doubted me!’ Jim stops himself and refocuses. ‘Seeing you like that, it hurt, Bones.’
Bones lets out a short, sharp, hurting laugh. ‘Yeah, you made your opinion on it pretty clear down there.’
‘You mean when I defended you?’
‘I mean when you threw yourself into harm’s way in a fool’s attempt at stopping the inevitable,’ Bones snaps. He stops, drawing in carefully paced breaths. ‘What the hell’d you think you were doing? You were never going to stop them, Jim!’
‘I wanted to protect you!’ Jim snaps back. He digs his nails into his palms, forcing the pain to centre him. No. Now isn’t the time for him to flare up. ‘Bones, I wasn’t gonna stand there and let her do that to you…’
‘No, instead, you made me watch you be dragged from the room with blood pouring outta your stupid head.’ Bones growls under his breath, shoving himself to his feet and clapping his hands to turn up the light. For a second, Jim’s sure he’s going to storm out. He doesn't. Instead, he paces, hands running through his hair. After a few back-and-forwards, he stops. ‘They wouldn’t let me help you, Jim. I didn’t know if…I couldn’t…’ He chokes and carries on pacing.
‘I’m fine, Bones,’ Jim reminds him gently.
‘Well, I didn’t know that, did I?’ Bones stops short, glaring at Jim. ‘For all I knew you could be dying and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it! I couldn’t go after you, couldn’t do anything except sit there and let that witch into my head!’
‘You didn’t “let” her do anything.’
‘I could’ve…’ Bones trails off. ‘I…’ He lets out a sharp groan and sinks back down to the couch. ‘I should’ve stopped her.’
‘Then I should’ve stopped her from taking you.’
‘What the hell are you going on about? She was way too powerful for you to take out like that, course you couldn’t’ve stopped her.’
Jim scowls. ‘I’m the Captain. It’s my job to protect my crew. If you should’ve stopped her from getting inside your head, then I should’ve stopped her from getting that close in the first place.’
‘That’s not…’ Bones groans. ‘Jim, that’s exactly what made you pull that stupid stunt in the first place. You can’t protect us from everything!’
‘And you can’t fight off everything.’
A long silence stretches out around them, one that Jim finally breaks. ‘Bones, no one expects you to be able to fight off an attack like that. I certainly couldn’t’ve.’
Bones lets his head sink back against the back of the couch. ‘…So I just have to put up with the idea that any old creep with psychic voodoo-whatever can walk into my head and make me turn against my closest friends with no resistance from me whatsoever?’
Jim swallows at that. ‘Bones…’ he starts.
Bones cuts him off. ‘Even once Spock’d “broken me free” I couldn’t keep her out, Jim. I remember it. I was fighting and fighting, but I couldn’t stop her. What’s that say about me except that I’m too weak to…’
‘You’re not weak!’ Jim snaps. He grabs hold of Bones’ upper arms, forcibly turning him to face Jim. ‘Bones, I saw you! You fought as hard as anyone could’ve asked of you. No one could’ve done better. Even while you were in agony, you didn’t give up.’
Silence.
‘…I couldn’t help you, Jim,’ Bones says finally, meeting his eyes. ‘You were bleeding, and I couldn’t help you. Then you were fighting and bleeding again, and I still couldn’t help you.’
Jim’s jaw tightens, painfully. He doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing he can say to fix it, to make it so Bones didn’t have to live through that. So Jim didn’t have to live through seeing his best friend drained of himself while unable to do a damn thing to stop it.
So he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he drags Bones into a tight hug. Bones stiffens initially, before sinking into him, hugging back.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jim whispers, the words terribly loud in the ensuing silence.
Bones chokes on a slight sob. ‘Me too, kid.’
They stay like that for a while. Jim has no real idea of how long if he’s honest. Time fades at the edges around them. The lights have once more dimmed—on an automatic timer, thanks to Bones’ convincing Chekov to help him hack Jim’s quarters to annoy Jim into not pulling all-nighters.
Jim ends up the first to break the silence, pulling out of the hug as he does so. ‘Spock could provide some lessons on mind shields. That’s a Vulcan telepathy thing, right?’
Bones coughs. ‘You want me to ask the hobgoblin for help? Seriously?’
‘Come on, Bones. You going to tell me that you dislike Spock so much that you don’t want anything to do with his help?’ Jim prods him in the side.
Bones makes a face. ‘He’ll crow about it.’
‘Spock never crows.’
‘Oh, he’ll crow alright,’ Bones says, scowling. ‘He’ll do it in a very Vulcan way, of course, but he’ll give me with that superior look that says he thinks he’s proven himself right about something.’
Jim snickers, slinging his arm around Bones’ shoulders. ‘Okay, yeah, he will do that. It’ll be fun, Bones! You, me, Spock. We could invite Sulu and Scotty. And we might as well invite Uhura, Chekov, and Gaila too. It’ll be a proper party!’
‘Hurrah.’ Bones’ voice remains utterly monotone.
‘That’s the spirit!’ Jim grins and lets his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes. ‘But that’s a tomorrow-us problem. For tonight, let’s sleep.’
‘You know you have a bed right through there?’
‘Meh. Too far. I’m tired.’
Even though Jim’s eyes are closed, he can sense Bones rolling his eyes. ‘Honestly, Jim.’
Jim finds himself heaved up and, somehow, deposited on his bed. He has no idea what happened in between; he’s not kidding when he says he’s exhausted. There’s a shuffle of fabric and Jim sneaks his hand out to catch hold of Bones’ arm.
‘Jim, for crying out loud…’
‘D’you really wanna walk all the way back to your quarters? Really?’ Jim opens his eyes to fix his friend with a beseeching look that always works on Bones—because for all Bones likes to complain at him, he’s terrible at saying no to Jim in matters unrelated to his health.
‘My quarters that are right down the corridor?’ Bones aims a critical eyebrow-raise at him.
‘It’s further than staying here,’ Jim points out. ‘Sides, don’t I have a concussion? Don’t you need to keep an eye on me?’
Bones huffs. ‘I wouldn’t’ve let you out if I was worried about that, doofus.’
‘Bones…’
‘Fine, whatever.’ Bones gives in with a groan. ‘If it’ll shut you up.’
Rather than harping on it, Jim rolls over to make room on the bed. Bones slides into place. There’s no problem with him fitting; these beds are way bigger than the ones at the Academy dorms at least.
Despite Bones’ grumbling, he drifts off to sleep quickly. It takes longer for Jim to follow him. Memories of Pyris Seven—and far older ones that it’s reawoken, of Tallulah, of blood and a leering smile, of Frank smashing a bottle next to his head—hover at the edge of his mind, daring him to fall asleep. Eventually though, he slips into sleep, old and new memories alike soothed by the warmth of his best friend next to him, safe and sound.
Despite not being allowed back on duty, Jim’s out of his quarters not long after Bones leaves—thankfully, not for a shift, Bones has finally seen reason and agreed to give himself the day off. If he hadn’t, Jim would’ve used his Captain powers to intervene.
After popping into the mess hall for breakfast, Jim’s first port of call is visiting Sulu and inviting him and Chekov—who’s already there (or perhaps never left last night)—to a Lord of the Rings night in Jim’s quarters. Sulu—worn and sickly-looking—agrees readily. Chekov is quick to chime in with his own acceptance of the offer. With his invitation delivered and confident that Chekov has Sulu well-taken-care-of, Jim heads off into the bowels of the Enterprise to check on Scotty.
As ever, when Jim reaches the engine rooms, he pauses for a moment to let himself bask in the beauty of his wonderful ship. More relaxed, he sets off in search of Scotty.
It doesn’t take too long—as loyal as Scotty’s people are to him, Jim is a) the Captain and b) hoping to help Scotty, so the various red-shirts whom Jim encounters are eager to point him in the right direction. The first sign he’s on the right track is the sight of Keenser clambering down from one of the walkways above. Keenser is never far from Scotty if at all avoidable.
Keenser eyes him, gesturing further back into the engine.
Jim grins in thanks, following his directions, finding Scotty face-deep in his latest contraption. It’s not his distillery surprisingly, instead it’s a confusing piece of tech Jim recognises from Scotty’s attempts to explain it to him. It’s supposed to be a robot that’ll help Scotty out with his work. Scotty, however, remains stuck on making it capable of engineering functionality.
Why Scotty wants to make a robot that he’ll inevitably lose his temper with and throw out into space the first chance he gets, Jim isn’t sure, but he’s glad to see Scotty obeying Bones’ orders not to work. Sure, this is engineering, but it’s the stress-relieving kind.
It’s at that exact moment that Scotty drops his tool and swears.
Sort of. It’s the sort of stress-relieving kind.
‘Scotty? You good?’ Jim asks, leaning against the wall beside him, careful not to knock anything.
Scotty blinks, sliding out from under his robot—dubbed Bessie, for unknown reasons. ‘Jim? What’re you doing down here, laddie?’
‘Seeing what you’re up to,’ Jim says. ‘Still working on Bessie?’
‘Aye,’ Scotty says, sending Bessie a frustrated glare. ‘She’ll be up and running soon, if I have anything to say about it.’
‘I’m sure she will,’ Jim says with absolute confidence.
This prompts Scotty to laugh. ‘Course she will. I’m the one building her, aren’t I?’ He pushes himself up into standing. ‘But I’m guessing you didn’t come down here to hear all about old Bessie, as fascinating as she is.’ He gives Bessie’s head (it might also be her shoulder, unclear) a fond pat.
Jim laughs too, examining Scotty as he does. While Scotty isn’t as obviously worn as Sulu, he’s lacking colour. There’re dark rings under his eyes.
‘Want to come to a Lord of the Rings evening tonight? I already got Sulu, Chekov and Bones on board,’ he asks finally. Technically, he hasn’t asked Bones to come yet, but Bones’ll be there—he’s still incapable of saying no to Jim, besides he likes watching Lord of the Rings (the superior 2214 adaptation, of course, despite Sulu’s insistence that the 21st century one’s untouchable). ‘I’ll get Gaila in on it too, she loves it.’
Scotty eyes him. ‘I don’t know…’ he says. ‘I’ve a bunch of work to do on old Bessie here.’
‘Scotty, come on, you’ll have the whole day to work on her. Besides, Bessie’ll be there when we’re done.’
With a final glance at Bessie, Scotty nods. ‘Alright, lad. What time?’
Jim barely restrains his crow of victory in favour of giving Scotty all the details. Not willing to push his luck and fully aware that Scotty’s agreement is dependent on being left alone with Bessie henceforth, Jim backtracks out of the engine room. At least tonight he can ensure Scotty eats something, though he stops on his way out to suggest to Keenser that he coax Scotty into eating before then. Keenser gives him the most insulted expression Jim’s ever seen on him in response. Yeah, it’s an obvious ask, but it’s Jim’s job to care for his crew.
Satisfied, Jim retreats. For now, at least, all is well. Or it will be, soon enough. After a mission like that, it’s all he can ask for.