Five times McCoy woke up and one time he didn't. McCoy dreams his way back through the events of the movies and the 2013 video game. Originally started as a "what if he dreamed it all and therefore it may have never happened" fic, so you can read it that way. Except for the "Beyond" scene, all scenes are made up but take place just after/during movie/game moments.
Surrounded by the small craft, each with weapons trained on them, McCoy grasped for the one comfort in this no-win situation. "Well, at least I won't die alone." Spock stood by his side, ready to fight to the death if need be.
Or not.
A shimmering sound met his ears, and he turned just in time to see sparkles of light begin to swirl around the Vulcan's form. Spock barely had time to register what was happening before he disappeared in the spiral of the transporter beam.
Barely able to take in what had just happened and the cruel timing of it all, McCoy frowned, a tiny part of him wondering if Spock did that on purpose. "Well, that's just typical," he complained, anger vainly attempting to take the place of the panic that was ready to engulf him. He willed his breathing to slow down.
One of the ships began to whine as its weapons powered up. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and determined to face his execution like a man - but he'd be hanged if he gave them the satisfaction of seeing his fear. The whining grew louder. Suddenly, a white-hot bolt pulsed through the air, hitting him right in the abdomen-
***
"Ahhh!" Leonard McCoy lurched forward in bed, heart pounding in his ears. Darkness surrounded him. "Lights," he ordered. The ship's computer complied, flooding his quarters with light. He squinted until his eyes adjusted, then glanced down at his bed. His blankets and sheets were twisted into knots. Damp sweat slicked his hair down and soaked his striped pajamas.
Untangling himself from the mess, he swung his legs over to one side and sat on the edge of the bed, one hand raked through his hair. He gasped as the pain he'd attributed to weapons fire burned in his gut again. Clutching his abdomen, he stood up on shaky legs and stumbled over to the replicator. "One bicarbonate of soda," he ordered. The machine complied.
Picking up his glass, McCoy stirred it with his index finger before downing half the glass. "I knew I shouldn't have eaten that," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Gives me nightmares." He carried the glass back to his bedside and set it down on the table. Sitting back on the edge of his bed, he adjusted the covers and fluffed his pillow, then settled back onto the mattress -
***
"Ow!" McCoy shouted as the hard floor made contact with his hip. Rubbing his side, he looked up at the ceiling. The room's lights were dimmed. A white hospital issue blanket was draped over the chair he'd been sleeping in.
Turning to face the chair, McCoy grabbed its armrests and used them to pull himself up to a standing position. He stared out the glass window into a darkened hallway. A nurse walked down the corridor, PADD tucked under her arm, while an orderly pushed a cart full of medical supplies into a lift.
He studied the bio-readout of the patient who occupied this room for several seconds before sighing with relief. All readings were consistent with somebody who was making a slow but steady recovery. "But it sure beats the heck out of anything I've ever seen."
"Who goes there?"
Blinking twice, McCoy turned around and faced the hospital bed behind him. Kirk was leaning on both hands, straining to push himself up out of bed. "Jim. Don't get up. It's me."
Kirk opened one eye, then the other. "Bones." He smiled. "Have you been here all night?" At McCoy's nod, he settled back against the cushions. "I'd ask you if you wanted something, but I'm kind of coming back from the grave here."
McCoy chuckled. "You can owe me a drink later." His laughter died as he saw how pale Kirk looked against those white sheets, with only the blue light from the screen for illumination. What would he have done if they'd lost him?
Kirk gave him a thumbs up, then opened his mouth wide in a yawn that ended in a wince. "Oh, boy. Everything aches."
McCoy gently put one hand on Kirk's shoulder. "That's normal. If anything about this is. Go back to bed, Jim."
"Yeah, I'll do-" Kirk's eyes closed. "-that. 'Night, Bones."
"Good night." McCoy pulled Kirk's blankets up higher, and headed back towards the chair, glancing once more at the monitor. Satisfied that everything was okay - for now -he settled into his seat, yawning. Turning to one side, he leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. There was a couch in the hospital's break room, but he had no plans to leave Jim's side until he was sure everything would be all right. The steady hum of Kirk's monitor lulled him to sleep-
***
"What?" McCoy sat bolt upright, startled by the sound of the red alert sirens. He rubbed his neck, stiff from lying on the fold out sofa and tried to figure out why he wasn't in Kirk's room anymore. Instead, the smell of stale coffee and half-eaten donuts hovered in the air.
He pressed his hands to his ears, trying to drown out the noise. When Kirk and Spock had headed down to New Vulcan to investigate the cause of Helios Station's mysterious malfunction, he knew it was only a matter of time before sickbay would be full and had therefore resolved to get some sleep. He had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning last night completing paperwork and incident reports, so it wasn't like he was slacking off now.
Jumping up from the couch, all senses on high alert, McCoy stalked over to the comm button on the wall and punched it. "McCoy to bridge. What the blazes is going on? Are we under attack?"
"We're currently attempting to provide defensive support for the colony, Doctor. Several ships are- Yes, sir," Uhura finished, obviously now addressing whoever was currently occupying the captain's chair. "Sorry, Doctor. Things are pretty hectic up here. I'll keep you posted. Is everything ready on your end?"
"Yeah, we've been ready since we got the orders." McCoy grabbed a PADD off of the table and ran down the occupancy list, jolting forward as the floor beneath his feet rocked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say those blasted Gorn were trying to tear apart the ship with their bare claws. What about Kirk and Spock?"
"Still fighting on the ground."
"Well, tell them to give those reptiles a right hook from-" The ship took a massive hit, sending McCoy pitching forward into the wall-
***
"Ouch!" McCoy smacked his head on the headboard of his bed and grabbed at the offending object which had just landed on his face. He rubbed his head, wrinkling his nose. "Ew. Keep your dirty socks to yourself, Jim!" He threw the fetid footwear at his Academy roommate, who was fully dressed in his red cadet uniform.
Kirk plopped down on the end of McCoy's bed. "What? Loud music didn't wake you up, flashing the lights did nothing…what have I got left?" he teased, leaning forward and dangling the sock in front of McCoy's face.
"Well, for starters," McCoy groused, grabbing the sock, balling it up, and tossing it into a corner, "you could try waiting for me to wake up, like a sane person. What time is it, anyway?" He looked from one side of the room to the other. A couple of pennants hung on one wall, a small model ship sitting on a shelf just below them. McCoy's medical diploma graced the other wall, as well as a photograph of himself with his parents.
"Half an hour until the simulation." At McCoy's look of confusion, Kirk bounced up on his feet. "You know, the big test. The one that decides whether we're destined for greatness-" he grinned and flexed his arm muscles and then swept his hands forward into a point, making the whoosh sound of a ship going into warp - "-or eternal obscurity in some backwater hole where nobody knows or cares about us." His grin drooped into a sad pout and his arms fell limply to his sides.
McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. "Sounds good to me. The eternal obscurity part, that is."
Kirk's pout turned into a frown. "What? I thought you'd moved past all that "space will kill us all" stuff. Don't you want to explore new worlds? Meet alien races? Discover some weird new disease and get it named after you?" He reached out and grabbed McCoy by the shoulders.
McCoy stuck out his tongue. "I'll pass, thank you. I just hope wherever they send me, somebody knows how to make a decent whiskey." He squirmed out of Kirk's grasp and scrutinized the fellow cadet. "How many kilos of sugar did you put on your cereal this morning, anyway? You're practically flying around the room."
Kirk laughed. "Get dressed. I'll see you there." He bent over and picked up his sock and winged it at McCoy, who threw his hands up to block it, then tossed it out the door after a fleeing Kirk.
Getting up out of bed, McCoy crossed the floor and went to retrieve the sock. Just as he reached for it, the doors slammed shut behind him-
***
"Huh?" McCoy woke up with a snort as the shuttle jolted slightly. "What happened?" he muttered, glancing side to side. None of the other passengers on the craft seemed to mind. Some were reading PADDs, others were carrying on quiet conversations, a few napped.
A hand touched his shoulder. "Just a little turbulence. Perfectly normal." The female officer who had all but wrestled him out of the head and into his seat earlier regarded him with something akin to sympathy. "You'll have to get used to it sooner or later, you know."
McCoy nodded once, twice. "Yeah, I know," he replied dryly. As the officer moved to the next row, McCoy covered his face with both hands and groaned. "What am I doing here?" His unshaven face scratched the palms of his hands.
"Still plenty of time to back out," the voice to his right offered. McCoy spared a look at the biker beside him, the collar of his leather jacket turned up on both sides. The kid looked like a gang member, sans tattoos. McCoy supposed the kid probably thought McCoy looked like a sasquatch. He watched as the kid held up one hand and stared at his fingernails. "Because you've got so much to go back to."
McCoy let out a humorless chuckle. "Ain't that the truth." He sighed heavily. "Kirk, right?"
A flash of pain appeared in Kirk's eyes and was quickly gone. His mouth tightened. "That's my name. Don't wear it out.""Bet you never thought you'd wind up here." McCoy looked him in the eye. "If you don't mind my saying so, you don't exactly look like the type who likes to take orders."
The kid shrugged. "Eh. Well, it was either this, or-" Kirk glanced down the aisle in the direction of an older man with an authoritative bearing. "-something else. So-" he stopped abruptly as the shuttle shuddered again, bouncing everyone in their seats. "Whee."
McCoy's stomach flipped. "Oh boy." He bit his lip and clutched a hand to his stomach. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.
Kirk looked at him sideways, then inched away a little. "Are you really gonna, uh…hurl?" He squeaked the last word.
McCoy gripped the armrest until his knuckles turned white. "Well, I warned you, didn't I?" Another jolt. The doctor jumped up from his chair and hurried down the aisle to the seat he had claimed in the first place. "Medical emergency. Excuse me. Coming through!" He was just passing the man Kirk had glanced at, who was regarding him with a concerned expression that reminded McCoy of his father's scrutiny when young Leonard had come down with something. Or maybe he just thought he was looney tunes.
He looked over his shoulder and saw the female officer moving quickly towards him, a "here-we-go-again" expression on her face. Just as she was about to grab his arm, a third bump sent him flying into the air-
***
David paused by the door, one hand rested against the frame as he studied his sleeping child. After four slices of pizza, three pieces of birthday cake, a stack of presents as tall as he was, and a rousing pick-up basketball game, poor Leonard had every right to be exhausted.
Chest rising and falling evenly, he lay on his right side on the floor, too tired to even crawl into bed. The new basketball he'd gotten sat at his feet. A couple of birthday cards were perched on his nightstand; one had fallen over on to the floor by Leonard's head.
"David?" His wife appeared at his side, smiling when she saw what he was looking at. "All tuckered out, huh?"
David slipped an arm around her waist. "Yup. He had a very busy day today." He walked into the room and bent over, lifting the small boy from the ground easily. The grain of the carpet had made small indentations in his cheek. As his wife pulled the blankets down, he set Leonard in the middle of the bed, head against his pillow.
She leaned over and kissed Leonard's cheek, right next to a smear of chocolate icing. "Did you see his face when he opened the autographed jersey?"
David chuckled. "I thought he was going to cry."
She smiled. "Before or after you told him it had to stay in the frame?"
He shook his head. "Wait 'til he sees the playoff tickets." Picking up the basketball, he walked over to the corner of the room and set it down where nobody would trip on it.
"David, look."
He headed back towards the bed and studied Leonard, eyes finally resting on the small silver toy starship the boy had won from a carnival game three years ago. It was dented and faded in places, and its nose was slightly bent. He clutched it in his arms like a precious treasure. "Huh. He still plays with that?"
"All the time." She crossed her arms and leaned against one wall. "I'll bet that's what he's dreaming about. Soaring through the stars." She brushed a wisp of hair from Leonard's face. "When he's not winning the slam dunk competition, that is."
"Or curing the Okrivian plague," David added, pretending to look offended. "Alongside his old man, of course." He pointed to himself with one thumb, puffing out his chest.
"Of course," his wife replied, kissing him on the cheek. "No reason he can't do both. People live longer these days, after all." She took David by the hand and led him towards the door, pausing by the frame again. "Good night, Leonard. I hope all your dreams come true."
Surrounded by the small craft, each with weapons trained on them, McCoy grasped for the one comfort in this no-win situation. "Well, at least I won't die alone." Spock stood by his side, ready to fight to the death if need be.
Or not.
A shimmering sound met his ears, and he turned just in time to see sparkles of light begin to swirl around the Vulcan's form. Spock barely had time to register what was happening before he disappeared in the spiral of the transporter beam.
Barely able to take in what had just happened and the cruel timing of it all, McCoy frowned, a tiny part of him wondering if Spock did that on purpose. "Well, that's just typical," he complained, anger vainly attempting to take the place of the panic that was ready to engulf him. He willed his breathing to slow down.
One of the ships began to whine as its weapons powered up. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and determined to face his execution like a man - but he'd be hanged if he gave them the satisfaction of seeing his fear. The whining grew louder. Suddenly, a white-hot bolt pulsed through the air, hitting him right in the abdomen-
***
"Ahhh!" Leonard McCoy lurched forward in bed, heart pounding in his ears. Darkness surrounded him. "Lights," he ordered. The ship's computer complied, flooding his quarters with light. He squinted until his eyes adjusted, then glanced down at his bed. His blankets and sheets were twisted into knots. Damp sweat slicked his hair down and soaked his striped pajamas.
Untangling himself from the mess, he swung his legs over to one side and sat on the edge of the bed, one hand raked through his hair. He gasped as the pain he'd attributed to weapons fire burned in his gut again. Clutching his abdomen, he stood up on shaky legs and stumbled over to the replicator. "One bicarbonate of soda," he ordered. The machine complied.
Picking up his glass, McCoy stirred it with his index finger before downing half the glass. "I knew I shouldn't have eaten that," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Gives me nightmares." He carried the glass back to his bedside and set it down on the table. Sitting back on the edge of his bed, he adjusted the covers and fluffed his pillow, then settled back onto the mattress -
***
"Ow!" McCoy shouted as the hard floor made contact with his hip. Rubbing his side, he looked up at the ceiling. The room's lights were dimmed. A white hospital issue blanket was draped over the chair he'd been sleeping in.
Turning to face the chair, McCoy grabbed its armrests and used them to pull himself up to a standing position. He stared out the glass window into a darkened hallway. A nurse walked down the corridor, PADD tucked under her arm, while an orderly pushed a cart full of medical supplies into a lift.
He studied the bio-readout of the patient who occupied this room for several seconds before sighing with relief. All readings were consistent with somebody who was making a slow but steady recovery. "But it sure beats the heck out of anything I've ever seen."
"Who goes there?"
Blinking twice, McCoy turned around and faced the hospital bed behind him. Kirk was leaning on both hands, straining to push himself up out of bed. "Jim. Don't get up. It's me."
Kirk opened one eye, then the other. "Bones." He smiled. "Have you been here all night?" At McCoy's nod, he settled back against the cushions. "I'd ask you if you wanted something, but I'm kind of coming back from the grave here."
McCoy chuckled. "You can owe me a drink later." His laughter died as he saw how pale Kirk looked against those white sheets, with only the blue light from the screen for illumination. What would he have done if they'd lost him?
Kirk gave him a thumbs up, then opened his mouth wide in a yawn that ended in a wince. "Oh, boy. Everything aches."
McCoy gently put one hand on Kirk's shoulder. "That's normal. If anything about this is. Go back to bed, Jim."
"Yeah, I'll do-" Kirk's eyes closed. "-that. 'Night, Bones."
"Good night." McCoy pulled Kirk's blankets up higher, and headed back towards the chair, glancing once more at the monitor. Satisfied that everything was okay - for now -he settled into his seat, yawning. Turning to one side, he leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. There was a couch in the hospital's break room, but he had no plans to leave Jim's side until he was sure everything would be all right. The steady hum of Kirk's monitor lulled him to sleep-
***
"What?" McCoy sat bolt upright, startled by the sound of the red alert sirens. He rubbed his neck, stiff from lying on the fold out sofa and tried to figure out why he wasn't in Kirk's room anymore. Instead, the smell of stale coffee and half-eaten donuts hovered in the air.
He pressed his hands to his ears, trying to drown out the noise. When Kirk and Spock had headed down to New Vulcan to investigate the cause of Helios Station's mysterious malfunction, he knew it was only a matter of time before sickbay would be full and had therefore resolved to get some sleep. He had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning last night completing paperwork and incident reports, so it wasn't like he was slacking off now.
Jumping up from the couch, all senses on high alert, McCoy stalked over to the comm button on the wall and punched it. "McCoy to bridge. What the blazes is going on? Are we under attack?"
"We're currently attempting to provide defensive support for the colony, Doctor. Several ships are- Yes, sir," Uhura finished, obviously now addressing whoever was currently occupying the captain's chair. "Sorry, Doctor. Things are pretty hectic up here. I'll keep you posted. Is everything ready on your end?"
"Yeah, we've been ready since we got the orders." McCoy grabbed a PADD off of the table and ran down the occupancy list, jolting forward as the floor beneath his feet rocked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say those blasted Gorn were trying to tear apart the ship with their bare claws. What about Kirk and Spock?"
"Still fighting on the ground."
"Well, tell them to give those reptiles a right hook from-" The ship took a massive hit, sending McCoy pitching forward into the wall-
***
"Ouch!" McCoy smacked his head on the headboard of his bed and grabbed at the offending object which had just landed on his face. He rubbed his head, wrinkling his nose. "Ew. Keep your dirty socks to yourself, Jim!" He threw the fetid footwear at his Academy roommate, who was fully dressed in his red cadet uniform.
Kirk plopped down on the end of McCoy's bed. "What? Loud music didn't wake you up, flashing the lights did nothing…what have I got left?" he teased, leaning forward and dangling the sock in front of McCoy's face.
"Well, for starters," McCoy groused, grabbing the sock, balling it up, and tossing it into a corner, "you could try waiting for me to wake up, like a sane person. What time is it, anyway?" He looked from one side of the room to the other. A couple of pennants hung on one wall, a small model ship sitting on a shelf just below them. McCoy's medical diploma graced the other wall, as well as a photograph of himself with his parents.
"Half an hour until the simulation." At McCoy's look of confusion, Kirk bounced up on his feet. "You know, the big test. The one that decides whether we're destined for greatness-" he grinned and flexed his arm muscles and then swept his hands forward into a point, making the whoosh sound of a ship going into warp - "-or eternal obscurity in some backwater hole where nobody knows or cares about us." His grin drooped into a sad pout and his arms fell limply to his sides.
McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. "Sounds good to me. The eternal obscurity part, that is."
Kirk's pout turned into a frown. "What? I thought you'd moved past all that "space will kill us all" stuff. Don't you want to explore new worlds? Meet alien races? Discover some weird new disease and get it named after you?" He reached out and grabbed McCoy by the shoulders.
McCoy stuck out his tongue. "I'll pass, thank you. I just hope wherever they send me, somebody knows how to make a decent whiskey." He squirmed out of Kirk's grasp and scrutinized the fellow cadet. "How many kilos of sugar did you put on your cereal this morning, anyway? You're practically flying around the room."
Kirk laughed. "Get dressed. I'll see you there." He bent over and picked up his sock and winged it at McCoy, who threw his hands up to block it, then tossed it out the door after a fleeing Kirk.
Getting up out of bed, McCoy crossed the floor and went to retrieve the sock. Just as he reached for it, the doors slammed shut behind him-
***
"Huh?" McCoy woke up with a snort as the shuttle jolted slightly. "What happened?" he muttered, glancing side to side. None of the other passengers on the craft seemed to mind. Some were reading PADDs, others were carrying on quiet conversations, a few napped.
A hand touched his shoulder. "Just a little turbulence. Perfectly normal." The female officer who had all but wrestled him out of the head and into his seat earlier regarded him with something akin to sympathy. "You'll have to get used to it sooner or later, you know."
McCoy nodded once, twice. "Yeah, I know," he replied dryly. As the officer moved to the next row, McCoy covered his face with both hands and groaned. "What am I doing here?" His unshaven face scratched the palms of his hands.
"Still plenty of time to back out," the voice to his right offered. McCoy spared a look at the biker beside him, the collar of his leather jacket turned up on both sides. The kid looked like a gang member, sans tattoos. McCoy supposed the kid probably thought McCoy looked like a sasquatch. He watched as the kid held up one hand and stared at his fingernails. "Because you've got so much to go back to."
McCoy let out a humorless chuckle. "Ain't that the truth." He sighed heavily. "Kirk, right?"
A flash of pain appeared in Kirk's eyes and was quickly gone. His mouth tightened. "That's my name. Don't wear it out.""Bet you never thought you'd wind up here." McCoy looked him in the eye. "If you don't mind my saying so, you don't exactly look like the type who likes to take orders."
The kid shrugged. "Eh. Well, it was either this, or-" Kirk glanced down the aisle in the direction of an older man with an authoritative bearing. "-something else. So-" he stopped abruptly as the shuttle shuddered again, bouncing everyone in their seats. "Whee."
McCoy's stomach flipped. "Oh boy." He bit his lip and clutched a hand to his stomach. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.
Kirk looked at him sideways, then inched away a little. "Are you really gonna, uh…hurl?" He squeaked the last word.
McCoy gripped the armrest until his knuckles turned white. "Well, I warned you, didn't I?" Another jolt. The doctor jumped up from his chair and hurried down the aisle to the seat he had claimed in the first place. "Medical emergency. Excuse me. Coming through!" He was just passing the man Kirk had glanced at, who was regarding him with a concerned expression that reminded McCoy of his father's scrutiny when young Leonard had come down with something. Or maybe he just thought he was looney tunes.
He looked over his shoulder and saw the female officer moving quickly towards him, a "here-we-go-again" expression on her face. Just as she was about to grab his arm, a third bump sent him flying into the air-
***
David paused by the door, one hand rested against the frame as he studied his sleeping child. After four slices of pizza, three pieces of birthday cake, a stack of presents as tall as he was, and a rousing pick-up basketball game, poor Leonard had every right to be exhausted.
Chest rising and falling evenly, he lay on his right side on the floor, too tired to even crawl into bed. The new basketball he'd gotten sat at his feet. A couple of birthday cards were perched on his nightstand; one had fallen over on to the floor by Leonard's head.
"David?" His wife appeared at his side, smiling when she saw what he was looking at. "All tuckered out, huh?"
David slipped an arm around her waist. "Yup. He had a very busy day today." He walked into the room and bent over, lifting the small boy from the ground easily. The grain of the carpet had made small indentations in his cheek. As his wife pulled the blankets down, he set Leonard in the middle of the bed, head against his pillow.
She leaned over and kissed Leonard's cheek, right next to a smear of chocolate icing. "Did you see his face when he opened the autographed jersey?"
David chuckled. "I thought he was going to cry."
She smiled. "Before or after you told him it had to stay in the frame?"
He shook his head. "Wait 'til he sees the playoff tickets." Picking up the basketball, he walked over to the corner of the room and set it down where nobody would trip on it.
"David, look."
He headed back towards the bed and studied Leonard, eyes finally resting on the small silver toy starship the boy had won from a carnival game three years ago. It was dented and faded in places, and its nose was slightly bent. He clutched it in his arms like a precious treasure. "Huh. He still plays with that?"
"All the time." She crossed her arms and leaned against one wall. "I'll bet that's what he's dreaming about. Soaring through the stars." She brushed a wisp of hair from Leonard's face. "When he's not winning the slam dunk competition, that is."
"Or curing the Okrivian plague," David added, pretending to look offended. "Alongside his old man, of course." He pointed to himself with one thumb, puffing out his chest.
"Of course," his wife replied, kissing him on the cheek. "No reason he can't do both. People live longer these days, after all." She took David by the hand and led him towards the door, pausing by the frame again. "Good night, Leonard. I hope all your dreams come true."
