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wook77Title: A Reaper!Bones Christmas Carol
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wook77
Fandom: Star Trek XI and Doom Crossover
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Wordcount: ~8700
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Doom Crossover
Summary: Bones is visited by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future. It still takes a clue by four to get him to own up to what he really feels for James Tiberius Kirk.
A/N: IDEK, Reaper!Bones? Many thanks to my beta,djin7 who I owe about a billion times over. Obviously, all mistakes are my own. I'm not that late for Christmas as Orthodox Christmas is still to come! I blame elanorofcastile for this as she encouraged my madness.
When Len steps out of his quarters, he's met with a horrifying sight. Right there, directly in front of him, is one Pavel Chekov (that isn't the horrifying part), who is currently hanging bright, fluffy, shiny, twinkling monstrosities all over the walls of the ship.
"Just what do you think you're doing, Ensign?" Bones demands.
"Decorating."
"Why?"
"Is Christmas!" Pavel turns a bright, sunny smile on him, speaking as if the answer is quite obvious and Bones is a particularly thick-headed child.
"And?"
"And we decorate?" There it is, that moment of hesitation and self-doubt. It's about damned time. This conversation is already about a minute too long and it's only been going on for a minute.
"Not near my quarters, you don't."
"But the Keptin – "
"But the Keptin, nothing. Get that shit off my walls and take it elsewhere. Dammit, this is a starship, not a sleigh!"
"Sorry, Doctor, sorry," Chekov gathers up the silver garland and the lights before scampering away.
"Damned straight." As he heads towards the turbolift, he mutters, "damnable holidays. Like anyone wants that bright shiny crap hanging around 'em."
Leonard McCoy hasn't enjoyed Christmas in about two hundred - maybe two hundred and fifty - years. Since long before he'd been Leonard McCoy. Seeing all the youngins beaming at one another, wishing one another the season's greetings (as if they haven't a care in the universe, despite how often they fight for their lives) and humming carols, it all gets to him, makes him go from "adorably irascible" (as Jim likes to call it) to "downright crotchety". And he's allowed, dammit. When you've been alive as long as he's been, you get to take liberties.
When the young lady in the lift with him starts humming another damnable hymn, he glares at her, crossing his arms over his chest and the humming immediately stops.
Yep, he's still got it. He throws in an extra sneer for good measure.
She hurries out of the lift on the floor above medbay and shoots one, last frightened gaze at him as she hurries away from him.
Unfortunately, he's forced to endure the continued holiday cheer once he's in his own domain. Snapping at Chapel - Dammit, it's not like we're going home for Christmas. Don't see why you're so happy. And stop singing about getting pumpkin pie and the turnpikes! - doesn't even put a dent into her sunny smile and cheer.
M'Benga isn't much better, snapping at him only gets Len a happy "Scrooge" tossed back at him. As if. He hasn't said "Bah Humbug" once, thank you very much.
For a brief moment, he wonders how far he can push the 'do no harm' clause of the Hippocratic Oath if he were to put all these fools out of their misery. Really, he'd be helping them.
"Feliz Navidad y uno prospero año, mucho felicidad!"
"You kiss your picture with that mouth?"
"Don't you mean my 'mother'?"
"Yo' Momma jokes went out of style about three hundred years ago. Thank God."
"About time to bring 'em back then."
"Jim," Len threatens. When he glances around the medbay, everyone's gazes slide away from Jim and him in a highly suspicious manner.
"Oh come on, Doctor Grinch. I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas," Jim sings in a falsetto voice, causing Leonard's teeth to grit. Maybe this healing factor has a bonus to it, after all. Who else could grit their teeth down so much and have 'em pop right back?
"Jim, if you know what's good for you…" He lets his voice trail off threateningly. Of course, Jim doesn't take him seriously and smirks before launching into a godawful song about decking halls and gifts and tinsel.
"Outta my sickbay before I decide you're due for an invasive physical."
"Define invasive." Jim's still smirking.
"Invasive invasive," Len states, flatly.
Jim's smirk disappears.
That's much better.
"Right, well, things to do, people to see. I've got a flagship to run, can't dillydally here all day. At ease, medbay!" Jim snaps a smart salute to the rest of the crew and leaves.
The silence that follows is blessedly long-lasting and lovely. It stretches throughout his shift, into his journey back to his quarters and throughout his solitary meal from the replicator. There's no way that he can face the combined cheer of multiple people in any public area of the ship.
He'll be quite glad when the holidays are over. He can deal with the fools celebrating a new year. At least, then, people get rip-roaring drunk and he doesn't have to deal with stupid songs. After all, no one knows more than the first few words of Auld Lang Syne, hundreds of years after the damned song was written. Thank God.
It's this whole 'familial bonding' and homesick emotional thing that he absolutely can't stand. He's able to function any other time of the year, any other season, but it's this time of the year, when everyone's supposed to spend time celebrating with their families, that he's reminded that his family is hundreds of years in the grave. He's used to not caring, used to moving on and forgetting about the ones around him.
And he has moved on, for the most part. But his hatred of the holidays stems from the constant reminder that the people he's around right now - people he, surprisingly enough, actually cares about – aren't going to be here forever. Eventually, in surprisingly few years, he will create a new identity for himself somewhere far, far away, once they're gone. He's actually going to miss these people, albeit, some more than most.
"Now for a turn for the morbid," he says to the empty room, raising a glass of bourbon and toasting it. "Thank the Lord that Christmas is tomorrow and this is over for another year."
With that, he locks his quarters with the medical override code (he knows Jim and his propensity for breaking into quarters, after all), strips and crawls into bed. He's asleep within minutes.
Only to wake up to the sound of a gun cocking. Old habits spring into play and he leaps out of bed towards the noise. A chuckle he hasn't heard in three hundred years answers him.
"What the everlasting fuck is going on here?" he asks as he takes in Duke standing in front of him.
"Miss me?" Duke asks.
"You're dead."
"Course I am."
"Then how the hell did you get here?" Len grabs a pair of pants and slips them on. He registers that he's taking the reappearance of Duke far too calmly.
"Magic, baby."
"Magic! God's sake, hallucinations shouldn't spout drivel." Once he's got his pants on, Len grabs a tricorder and starts scanning himself. The reading comes back normal, much to Duke's amusement.
"You're fine. Hell, more than fine - what with being how old?"
"Too old to be hallucinating your dead ass in front of me."
"You never read A Christmas Carol?"
"I've got better things to read."
"Seen the movies, right?"
"Whatever. Go away. Come back next year."
"Don't work like that, man. Here's the deal: you've turned into a bitter old guy. Like seriously bitter. More bitter than anything bitter ever."
"You sayin' I'm bitter?" Len asks, cocking an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.
"No shit. So, look, Reaper, your sister – "
"What's Sam got to do with this?"
"Let me finish, man - limited time and all that," Duke says and it's all too easy to fall into the once-familiar teasing patterns.
"Yeah, it'll take hours for you to get out whatever the hell you want to say. Gotta make sure it sounds witty so you don't show what a dumbass you are." Len smirks.
"I am the man! You better recognize! Now look, your sister, you're stressing her out."
"She's dead."
"Yeah, yeah, that's what you said about me and look where I am."
"Haunting me."
"Exactly. Never said that the afterlife was all perfect and shit."
"So what did you do to get stuck visiting me? At least Marley was a dick to the poor."
"You did read the book! Probably something to do with this," Duke says, gesturing towards the gun. "Look, doesn't matter. Thing is, you're bitter, Sam's stressed, I'm here. So three ghosts, yadda, yadda. Repent or you're going to be a miserable fuck for the rest of your very long life."
"I am a miserable fuck, thank you very much. There you go, problem solved! Nice to see you again, Duke. And if you fuck over my sister, I'll find you and drag your ass into hell with me."
"Doesn't work like that."
"Fine. Send Sam to explain it to me," Len says and blatantly turns his back on Duke, crawling back into bed.
"Wish I could, man. Wish I could. Good luck, Reaper." Duke flips a salute at him.
Len only snorts and tosses the blankets over his head. Blessed silence comes. After a few minutes, Len snorts again, flips the blankets back off his head and says, "Never were good at hiding."
"I almost had you."
"Bullshit."
"It really was good to see you again, Reaper."
"Not 'Reaper' any more."
"Yeah, all right, Bones." Duke grins at him, chuckling again before sobering. "Seriously, man. You need the help."
"I'm a doctor now, I know how to diagnose this sort of shit and I say I'm just fine."
"Physician, heal thyself." Duke starts to go wavy. "Gotta go."
"Good to see you, man. Tell Sam I love her."
"She knows." With that, Duke fades from view and Len is left alone. He flops back against his pillows, snorts and falls asleep.
This time, he wakes up to the damnable sound of Carol of the Bells being hummed.
"Keep going and I'll shoot you where you stand, I'm not fucking kidding," he mutters from within his cocoon.
"Naw, you wouldn't shoot me, would you?"
"Kid, I'd shoot my mother if she were singing Christmas carols."
"Well, I only get an hour to do this and we've got a lot to do so you want to get over here so I can get through this?"
"Can we just say we did?"
"Nope. Doesn't work like that." The Kid sits on his bed, causing the mattress to slump and Len resists the pull to roll that way. "Easy way, or hard way - up to you."
"Kid – "
"You think you could call me Mark?"
"Mark. Not interested. I'm happy being miserable. Keeps me sane."
"Fine," The Kid says and presses the gun to the back of Len's head and pulls the trigger. By the time that Len's brain catches up with the idea that he's been shot, he's standing in the middle of The Dig at Olduvai.
"You shot me, you little fuck!" Len turns on The Kid and stalks towards him, hands outstretched so he can strangle the little punk.
"Told you, the easy way or hard way. You picked hard." The Kid backs away, holding up his hands in an obvious attempt to ward Len off.
"Why the hell would you bring me here anyway? We going to watch Sarge kill you again?" He'd meant that to come out harsh – he exceeds his expectations impressively.
"Watch and learn." The Kid gestures over Len's shoulder.
"Fine," Len says with a huff and turns to watch his five-year-old self come running across The Dig, chased by his sister, Sam. They're both giggling and shouting back and forth. A woman stands up and yells at them, making Len's heart stutter. "Mom."
"Want to go closer?" The Kid asks but Len's already crossing The Dig before he can finish. "She's pretty."
"Yeah, Sam looks a lot like her." His mom reaches down and lets the pair of them clamber up her body, trying to get higher than the other. Their combined weight sends her toppling backwards. They proceed to tickle her as she fends them off. Len's heart skips and starts as he takes in the beautiful, shining smile on her face.
"Who do you look like?" The Kid asks. Len can't help the way that he gets angry at The Kid for interrupting but he shakes it off as he watches his mom turn towards another site and call for help. The other archeologists barely react, pausing in their work only to shake their heads and grin.
"My dad. Who should be… there." Len gestures towards the excavation site next to his mother's. A man steps out of it and comes over, scooping the little Len – then John, the name he was born with - up and raising him high over his head. Sam stands up and begs for a chance, too.
"You guys look really happy."
"Yeah, we were."
"This was a good Christmas, then?"
"Yeah." And it had been. John and Sam find themselves slung over a shoulder each, heads dangling down their father's back, as they head out of The Dig.
"We got other times to visit. Easy way or hard way?" The Kid asks as they disappear from view.
"Just take me back to the Enterprise."
"Hard way it is." The Kid shoots him again, this time straight into the chest.
"Fuck's sake! That hurts. Oh and just great, now it's raining. I'm shot, twice, and wet. What a great experience. I promise to be happy for the rest of my everlasting existence! I repent." Len looks around and takes in the jungle with its dripping canopy. He can barely make out the camp off to the side. "What am I supposed to see here, Oh Ghost of Christmas Past?"
"Sarcasm: the tool of the weak."
"Guns: the tool of aggression."
"Good comeback. I liked it. Hurry up or we're not going to get to the other stuff." The Kid marches through the trees, the branches moving away from him. "Man, this place sucks," The Kid says as he starts towards the camp. "You coming?"
With a shake of his head, Len follows into the clearing where he sees all of the team sitting around a sputtering fire while cleaning their guns. This mission had been a few years before Olduvai.
"Come on, Sarge, let's just go blow some shit up and then we can be home in time for pie," Duke says as he thumbs his gun.
"We'll hold here, do just what we're told. Mission parameters state – "
"Oh come on, mission parameters, my ass. We're in the middle of the fucking jungle and it's Christmas!" Duke turns towards Reaper and says, "Come on, make him hurry this shit up. I've got pie waiting for me. Homemade pumpkin pie, man. I'll even get you a slice if you can get us out of here first."
"Just shut up and this whole thing will go a lot smoother," Reaper says.
"If all your missions were like this, I'm sort of glad I didn't make it past my first one," The Kid says from Len's shoulder.
"Sometimes, there were explosions, too," Len says and, right on cue, a fireball erupts into the sky. The sound comes next, followed by a blast of heat and the team in front of them scrambles into readiness. Gunfire erupts all around them and The Kid claps him on the shoulder and the vision swirls away as two of the team members die, calling for help.
Only to have them land in a church. Poinsettias adorn every surface in a rainbow of colors from blue to pink to white to red. The smell of beeswax candles hang heavy in the air. Every person in the church is quiet. From their position behind the altar, Len tenses as soon as he sees the man standing in front of the priest.
"Get us the hell out of here, Kid, now."
"Sorry?" The Kid asks.
"Kid, Mark, this ain't funny. Get us the hell out of here now. I'm not kidding."
"Sorry, you have to see this."
"We only have an hour, remember? This memory's a helluva lot longer than an hour."
"An hour's as long as we need it to be. You have to watch." The Kid looks sympathetic but Len doesn't care.
He refuses to watch what happens next. He won't do it and no one can make him, either.
No one but himself. Damn his masochistic streak.
The music swells and, at the end of the aisle, a vision in a white dress appears. Len's heart clenches as John appears next to her. By the time they reach the altar, Len can't look away, much as he wants.
"She's a beautiful bride. I'm glad you saved her."
"That why we're here? You punishing me for not saving you?" Len says bitterly, not looking away from his sister and his former self at the altar.
"I'm here to help you."
"This ain't helping," Len says as he watches John lift Sam's veil and then kiss her on the cheek. It hurts to see that level of happiness, to remember it intimately, all at the same time. He's suppressed those memories, dammit. Compartmentalizing is the only thing that's got him through all these years and will get him through all the years to come.
"I understand that there's some good stuff at the reception," The Kid says and touches Len's shoulder, whisking him away to the reception and right into the Father-Daughter dance where he'd danced with Sam in lieu of their deceased father until he'd handed her over to her new husband.
He watches them dance and he can remember the conversation like it'd been just five minutes ago.
"He ever treats you wrong, you let me know and I'll – "
"There's no need for that. He's a good man."
"Not good enough for you."
"Look at you, former Marine man, getting all protective over the little woman," Sam teases and pokes him in the shoulder.
"Damned straight I am," John answers back and shrugs off the tap on his shoulder. He shrugs off the second one, as well, causing the audience to laugh. A third tap and he turns to the man behind him and growls, "You ever even make her tear up, and you'll be answering to me."
Her new husband pales and he grins, as Sam slaps his arm in teasing recrimination.
As Sam leaves John's arms and enters her husband's, The Kid touches Len's shoulder and suddenly they're in a nursing home.
"Fuck's sake, not this one, too. You know which ones to really make me even more miserable, don't you?"
"That last one wasn't a happy Christmas?"
"Yeah, one that was hundreds of years ago, jackass. How'm I supposed to be happy about that? And then you bring me to this one? You're an asshole." Len stalks down the hall, flings open the door and snarls, "Fine, she's dying. You showed me my worst Christmas ever. I'm miserable. You win. I'm sorry I didn't save you from Sarge."
"Oh, Reaper, that isn't it at all. Listen," The Kid says, gesturing towards where Reaper squats in an uncomfortable chair next to a frail, old woman.
A nurse bustles in, blowing right through Len and The Kid as she approaches the pair at the bed. "So nice of you to visit your grandmother."
"She ain't my grandmother," Reaper snarls. "Ain't none of your business so just butt out and leave a dying woman her peace."
"Stop that, John, leave the nice woman alone," Sam says in a small voice. He'd barely heard it the first time around but this time, it sounds as if it'd been broadcast through speakers. His heart seizes up once more.
"None of her business, Sam, and you know it."
"She's being nice. You remember what that's about, right?" Sam reaches a shaky hand up to where their entwined hands rest and pats his.
"Yeah, well, it's been awhile." The nurse makes a noise and Reaper looks up, snarling once more, "You want to leave us alone here?"
"Of course," she says and hurries back out of the room.
"Haven't much time, John," Sam says.
"I know, baby, I know."
"I'd do it again, if I had the chance."
"Me too, if it meant saving you," Reaper says as he grasps both her hands with his. "I love you, Sam."
Sam looks up at Reaper and then, surprisingly, over to where Len and The Kid are standing and says, "I love you, too. Always."
Len feels something warm go through him, even as his heart breaks at Sam's condition, knowing she's not long for the world.
"We've got one more," The Kid says and slings his arm over Len's shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze. When they land, they're in the barracks at Starfleet Academy. A sad, pathetic-looking tree blinks forlornly while two men sing awful carols with made up lyrics replacing the actual ones.
"Who's that?" The Kid asks, gesturing towards the man dancing around next to where Len sits on a worn sofa.
"You know damned well who that is."
"Looks like you're enjoying yourself." Len ignores him as he watches Jim collapse back against the couch, slumping against Len who smoothes down Jim's hair in a far-too-tender gesture.
"I get it. Some Christmases were better than others. Doesn't make me want to enjoy them now."
An alarm goes off directly behind Len and The Kid. Len startles, too fixated on the way that he'd pulled Jim against his chest and was smoothing his hair before slumping into the sofa and drifting off to sleep.
"That'd be our cue. Time to head back."
"About damned time."
"Easy way or hard way?"
"You think you're going to get to shoot me again, you've got another thing coming." This time, it's Len that touches The Kid. They swirl away and arrive back in his quarters.
"See ya, Reaper."
"Not Reaper anymore, Kid."
"Good to see you again, John."
"It's Leonard, now. Good to see you, too, Mark," Len says softly, as The Kid wavers and, with a quick wave, disappears. "Can't wait for the next one. Maybe he'll put out my eyes or something. Can't hurt any worse."
Instead of crawling back into bed, he heads into his bathroom, brushes his teeth and splashes some water on his face. He's walking back into his bedroom, toweling off his face when he hears, "Now isn't that a sight."
Len lowers the towel and sees a familiar green girl reclining on his bed. "Gaila?"
"In the flesh! Well, the ghostly flesh! How've you been? Long time and no see and all that!" Gaila kicks her feet against his bed. Len suppresses the urge to tell her to get her damned shoes off his damned bed.
"You want me to answer that?"
"Hey, could be worse. You could be dead."
"You make a good point. You want to get your boots off my bed?"
"Aren't they awesome? I figured, what with being a ghost of Christmas Present and all that, that I'd dress the part. You like it?" Gaila hops off his bed and twirls, hands fluffing her bright red skirt with white, fluffy trim, and then giving a sassy kick with her green boots and their curled toes.
"You look like the offspring of Mrs. Claus and one of Santa's elves."
"I know, isn't it great? This is fantastic. Who knew being dead would be so much fun?" Gaila dances over to him and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "So, are you shirtless just cause you knew I was coming?"
"No, I'm shirtless because the last ghost woke me up and then shot me a bunch of times. You going to shoot me?"
"I'd rather not."
"Good."
"Well, you ready to see how awesome Christmas is?" Gaila pecks him on the cheek once more.
"You're an Orion. You don't have Christmas."
"We can have whatever we want. Besides, I get to wear fabulous shoes and a great dress! Plus, I get to see you shirtless. Seems like Santa thinks I've been a good girl."
"I would say that dying has hurt your powers of reason, but you always were unique."
"Thanks! That's the sweetest thing that anyone has ever said to me!" She kisses him once more. Her hands slide around his body and then suddenly they're in the medbay. He's still shirtless, dammit.
"So, this is how you spend your Christmases? That's sort of sad and pathetic," she says as she walks through the medbay and picks up tools before setting them down. Len follows after her, straightening the tools.
"It's how I like it."
"But it's just you over there in that office and no one around. At least tell me that you're going to listen to a couple of songs or something. Maybe have some fruitcake?"
"Do you know what all is in fruitcake?" Len glares at her as she opens a cabinet, grabs a few rolls of gauze and starts to juggle them. She looks absolutely ridiculous in her Mrs. Claus outfit while she juggles but Len can't help wanting to smile at her for some godforsaken reason.
"Nope."
"No one does. That's the problem. It's completely unidentifiable. There's a thousand ways that it could poison you."
"Or Jim. He still allergic to peanuts?" Her juggling doesn't stop as she adds in a hip shimmy and then starts walking around the medbay.
"What's Jim got to do with anything?"
She merely quirks an eyebrow at him before asking, "You want to toss in another roll here? I think I can do five."
"I'd rather not."
"Party-pooper. You ever let yourself have fun?" she asks as she maneuvers herself back towards the cabinet with the gauze and then, juggling with one hand, grabs another roll of gauze and adds it into the mix.
"I have fun."
"Oh yeah? What do you do for fun?" her eyebrow rises once more.
"I… well, I… I do plenty of things that are none of your business."
"Oh, good cover-up! If I weren't dead and omnipotent right now, I'd totally believe you!"
"So what? You're here to tell me how miserable I am and then show me that, today, I'll spend the day the same as I did last year?" He waves vaguely around the medbay, making his point.
"Yep."
"Mission accomplished. Can we head back to bed now?"
"Sorry, honey, I'm dead and you're taken."
"I'm what?"
"Oh, that's right. Oops, forgot to show you the next one," she says and then catches each roll of gauze, the last one is deftly caught behind her back. "Well, onwards."
"You going to teleport me somewhere?"
"Actually, I thought we'd walk. It's just down the hall. Never did get to explore much of the Farragut. Was too busy dying, unfortunately. The Enterprise is rather cool, though. Nice to see more of a ship than just the shuttle bay and engineering." She heads out the door and Len, shaking his head, follows her. "Oh, look at all this garland! And lights! You humans sure do know how to celebrate when you focus on it. I love those carols, too. Want me to sing for you?"
"No."
"I'm not bad, see?" Gaila starts singing something about needing a Christmas, doing a kickstep as she goes.
"You ever listen when someone says 'no'?"
"Nope. Dead, remember? I can do what I want. Hurry up, we're going to miss the food," she says, grabbing his hand and tugging him along.
They enter the senior officer's lounge without having taken a lift – Len suspects Gaila of teleporting anyways.
"Look at this spread! You guys have it good here. How can you want to be down there," she pauses to gesture back towards the medbay, "in a teeny little office when you could be up here eating all the junk you want? It's not like you're going to gain any weight or anything. Oh, look, fruitcake!" Gaila wanders off, wiggling between some of the people and floating through others. She reaches for something on the table and her hand ghosts through it. Deciding that he'd rather not hear about it, Len wanders over towards where he sees Jim and Spock standing.
"Captain, I suspect that Doctor McCoy plans to continue his holiday celebrations alone. It would be good for morale if we were to commence the celebration here without him." Spock is standing next to Jim, leaning in closely and whispering. Hearing his name, he goes a little closer. He's only human.
"Give him a few minutes."
"Captain," Spock says, "Jim. I understand your desire to celebrate a historically familial holiday with your loved ones – "
"He'll be here, Spock."
"Jim, the fact that Doctor McCoy prefers to celebrate without you is not a reflection as to the current status of your relationship or lack thereof."
Now what in the blazes is Spock on about? They're perfectly good friends. That's a relationship, dammit.
"He'll be here, Spock," Jim says and Len recognizes that stubborn tilt to his chin just like he recognizes the challenging tone of voice.
"Jim. Doctor McCoy cares about you. His lack of presence here is not a reflection on his level of affection for you."
"He'll be here."
"But you won't be, will you? Because you love being miserable more than you love Jim," Gaila says from beside his elbow, making him jump.
"We're friends."
"Yep. Friends that love one another in a more-than-friendly sort of way. Look at him. You're making him miserable. See? He's clenching his fist. You remember what that means?"
Course he remembers what it means. His heart twists up just a bit as Jim looks at the door one more time and then back towards the assembled senior officers and then looks at the door again. Jim gestures towards Spock and Spock announces that the celebration has begun. Len hurts just watching the way that Jim's shoulders slump slightly before he turns to get some of the food.
"Told you he wouldn't show. You owe me a bottle," Scotty says to Sulu as they walk through Len and towards the table.
"Still time."
"Come on, man enjoys his solitude. He's probably halfway to arsed by now."
"Nope, not paying up until the Captain calls it."
"Bet you another bottle that he's down in his office, bottle on the table and a glass in his hand, drinking his bourbon and staring at the holo of his daughter."
Len can't even argue with it. It's exactly how he'd spent the previous Christmas and plans to do the same again this year. Just because he can't argue with it doesn't mean that Scotty isn't going to get a few extra and, possibly, painful inoculations. Just in case he's exposed to a few rare diseases.
"The Doctor is probably in the lift right now. He is miserable but he would not hurt the Keptin," Chekov says as he joins the gossiping duo.
"Yeah, point," Sulu says and the three of the grab plates and start assembling.
"Who's that?" Gaila asks as she gestures towards the trio.
"Which asshole are you asking about?"
"The cute one?"
"None of them."
"You don't find his accent cute?" Gaila huffs and crosses her arms, leaning back and glaring at him before turning back towards the three men filling their plates to brimming.
"He's like twelve. You can't possibly find him attractive."
"Not the little one, the other one, in red."
"That's Scotty, he's our Chief Engineer."
"Too bad I didn't get the Enterprise. We would've had a lot of fun," she says on a sigh. "Oh well. This whole gig sort of blows. I'm stuck with you, Doctor Grumpypants, and I can't even eat or flirt or anything. Well, except with you but I don't want to flirt with you because Jim would be pissed. Not that I'm not pissed at him or anything, because that was a dick thing to pull."
"Color me surprised that Jim pulled an asshole maneuver."
"It's all right. I'm sure he would've apologized eventually. I think he tried but I was newly dead, couldn't really see it."
"Huh," Len says because he has no idea what she's talking about.
"Oh well, can't help that I got him to pass the Kobayashi Maru in a really shitty sort of way. He'll be nicer to you when he tells you he loves you. I promise, no virus for you!"
"That how he passed?" Trust Jim to find a way to slip the code in so no one would be the wiser until well after he'd done it.
"Yep. Want me to fast-forward this?" Gaila asks and then kisses his cheek. The officers speed up, moving quickly from table to table, mingling and eating at lightning fast speed. "And, now, for your viewing pleasure, we have kicked puppy at Christmas!"
Time slows and the other officers trickle out, casting quick looks back towards Jim as he sits with Spock at a table in the corner, chess game going on the table, though their competition doesn't have nearly the same intensity that they normally have. In fact, Jim does rather resemble a kicked puppy. He's barely moving any of the pieces and, when he does, even Len can see how poorly planned the moves were.
"Captain, you should not take this personally. Doctor McCoy is unaware of your feelings on this matter of holiday celebrations. Perhaps you should inform him."
"Yeah, well, it's one of those 'I don't want it if I have to ask for it' situations."
"How would you receive it without requesting it?"
"You ask Uhura for your relationship or did it just happen?"
"Ah," Spock says and then moves a piece. "Fascinating."
"What? That you're kicking my ass or the analogy?"
"Both. Check."
"I can still pull this out."
"Of course you can, Captain," Spock says as he waits for Jim to complete his move.
"You feeling like a selfish, bitter asshole yet?" Gaila surprises him once more.
"Already there, sweetheart. Been there for a long time." He doesn't look towards Gaila. Instead, he watches as Jim morosely moves another piece.
"Come on, time to see the next bit."
"Oh goody, there's a next part."
"And away we go," Gaila says, reaching around him and squeezing his ass as they're back in medbay.
"Haven't we been here before?"
"Not this time, no." Gaila wanders away from him. "I think I'll just be over here."
"Sorry?" Len asks only to get a wave of Gaila's hand as the response.
The door to medbay slides open and Jim comes in, bouncing off the furniture in a drunken lurch as he tries to get to the office.
"How much did he have to drink since we left him?"
"How much you think? It's been twenty minutes."
"There's no way he can be that drunk," Bones says as Jim bangs on the door to the office and, once it opens, fall through to slump against Len.
"Come on, let's get you to a bed."
"Your bed?" Jim slurs out.
"He faking it?" Len asks Gaila.
"Master of the Obvious, you are correct. Only way to get you to pay any attention or care, right?"
"Bullshit." Len doesn't bother glaring at her. Instead, he watches Jim sling an arm around his future self and then wobble towards the door. Len's arm goes around Jim and holds on as they cross the medbay.
"Missed you at dinner."
"Was that today?" Len asks, clearly trying to avoid the meaning behind Jim's words.
"Why didn't you come? Doncha love me?" Jim asks as he flops his head against Len's shoulder and then nuzzles into his neck.
"Course I love you."
"Naw, if you loved me, you'd spend Christmas with me."
"He's got a point," Gaila says from across the medbay. "And it looks like he's taking Spock's advice and asking you for it."
"Jim," both of the Lens say at the same time.
"Is ok. Just wish you'd stop being such a miserable fuck and spend some time on a holiday with me. You going to do the invasive invasive physical now?"
"Jim," they say again. "It's not you."
"Yeah, that line went out of style like hundreds of years ago. And no one believed it then."
"Jim."
"That's m'name, don't wear it out. Seriously, Bones, had to deal with Spock's sympathy. You ever get Vulcan sympathy? It's like a hot stick to the eye. It's awful and weird and awkward and shit. And it's all your fault."
"I'm sorry." They finally reach the doors and Len thumbs the door open, pulling Jim even closer and rubbing his hands up and down Jim's side.
"No, you're not."
"He's got you there."
"You weren't this rude when you were alive."
"Yeah, well, I was trying to be nice then. Now I get to tell you that I think you're a cowardly and bitter old guy. Come on, I can't take poor Jim any more. Time to get you back to your bed, so you can ignore all of this and continue to be a miserable schmuck." Gaila hops off the biobed and then saunters over towards him.
"You know the word 'schmuck'?"
"Yep. Omnipotent right now, remember?" Instead of the groping or the kiss, Gaila taps his cheek a couple of times and they land back in his darkened bedroom. "Try to remember that you love him and he loves you and stop being so bitter. K?"
Len hasn't a clue what to say to her, too fixated on the conversations that he's just heard.
"And tell Jim that I forgive him, ok? It was a jerk thing to do but whatever, life's too short to hold a grudge." With that, she disappears from view, leaving Len alone.
"Huh." Len shakes his head to clear it. Figuring he's doomed for a third visitor yet tonight, he tugs on a shirt and then adds a pair of shoes.
There's no warning before he's tackled and being pinned to the ground by a body just as he finishes pulling on his left shoe. "Come on, soldier, it hasn't been long enough yet, has it?"
"I should've figured it would be you. I killed you," Len says as he pushes up against Sarge's body.
"Still dead and still tougher than you. You always were second best."
"Except when I killed you."
"Which you did by cheating. Man to man, I was beating you."
Len relaxes his body, letting Sarge slightly overbalance and then reaches up and grabs Sarge's neck, pulling him forward and throwing him off.
"Last I figured, my brain's part of my body so man to man, I kicked your ass and then blew it into a thousand parts. Face it, you lost." Len stands up quickly, preparing himself for the next attack.
"Rematch time," Sarge says with an evil grin twisting his features. "This is going to be great."
Sarge cracks his knuckles and then charges, sending them flying backwards. They don't land on the bed as Len had expected. Instead, they crash onto the hard floor of a nondescript bar. Cracking his hands against Sarge's ears, Len follows by headbutting him and getting out from under him.
"We don't like your kind here," A Romulan says to another patron.
"Join the club, asshole," Len hears himself mutter. He takes his attention off of Sarge for just an instant to see himself sitting at the bar, a glass of bourbon in front of him.
"You should go back to where you came from," the Romulan continues to threaten.
"You realize how much you sound like a dime novel tough? Move on, asshole, you don't want the trouble you're borrowing and I'm in a shitty mood."
The Romulan swings but doesn't have time to finish. Instead, the other Len slams his fist to the underside of his jaw and then into the Romulan's chest, sending him to the floor. Len then turns back to the drink in front of him and sips.
"Now we're talking. You see that move you just did? That is what we're meant for. That is why we were given the chromosomes," Sarge says from his shoulder.
"This isn't the way it's going to go down," Len says as he watches the Romulan pick himself off the floor and then, with a bunch of his friends, jump the Len at the bar. Within moments, there aren't any Romulans left standing. The other Len steps over the bodies and leaves the bar without looking back.
"That was well done, soldier! I knew you could get it back." Sarge claps him on the shoulder and they're whisked away to New Vulcan. Len's never really cared for the dry, arid place. He much prefers the humid heat of Georgia in the summer, if he's going to have to get warm weather.
"I'm just embarrassed to be here right now. Look at the way you're sitting there with him. You going to cry, soldier?" Sarge asks, pushing him forward towards where two men sit on the patio with the red rocks in the background.
"This is highly illogical."
"Yeah, well, you wanted to see me, you got me. What's this about?"
"Though I do not ascribe much truth to rumors – "
"Get to the point."
"Rumors came through that you were still alive. I wanted verification."
"Yeah, still alive."
"It is quite remarkable that you have not aged at all."
"Not all of us get to age gracefully."
"That was a good one," Sarge says, knocking into Len with a hipcheck. "God, I love you like this! It's like having my Reaper back instead of the pansy-assed Len standing here."
Len ignores him, focusing on the conversation in front of him instead.
"How long have you had this ability?"
"Hundreds of years."
"It was highly illogical that you did not confess to your abilities when they were needed most. At that last, your skills and abilities might have been invaluable in saving lives. However, that is merely speculative."
"I'm sorry about Uhura," Len says, pushing off the chair and heading towards the doors.
"She is not whom I was referencing, Doctor," Spock calls out after him but Len doesn't stop.
"Who's he talking about?" Len turns towards Sarge who only grins at him once more and then claps him on the shoulder, sending them to a large memorial erected on the lawn of Starfleet Academy. There, in large bold letters, was Jim's name while a holovid played of him during his interviews and reports. Not in a single image does Len see Jim as anything older than forty-ish. Shit.
"What's this about?" Len looks around, trying to get more information from the memorial and the students around it. There has to be some sort of clue about what happens to Jim. Walking around the memorial, he keeps tapping at it until he finally understands the conversation with Spock. It hadn't been about Uhura. It'd been about Jim. It's always about Jim.
"You have a habit of losing commanding officers, don't you?" Sarge says with a sneer . He punches Len and the world goes grey and then bright white. When Len's eyes adapt to the light, he sees himself leaning back against the memorial, hands calmly crossed in front of him. Len hasn't any clue how far into the future they are but the memorial looks as new as it had been in the last. Only the disappearance of the Academy, the crumbled buildings and ruined lawn tell Len that they're far in the future.
"The hell's happened here?"
"Time. War. Progress. You name it. You, though, you just continue to disappoint me. Look at this fucking place." Sarge waves his hands around. "Place is falling down around you and you're still here, taking care of that stupid slab of stone."
"Fuck you, that's for Jim." Len is instantly defensive. The light gets brighter and brighter while the air gets warmer and warmer.
"The last mission is always the greatest, isn't it?" Sarge asks.
Len looks around at all the decay of San Francisco, then takes in his future self's state, leaning up against Jim's memorial. Looking up at the relentless bright sky, he realizes why his future self is here, waiting.
"Get ready for it!" Sarge shouts, tilting his head back and laughing. Len feels his skin cooking off his bones, the heat killing him slower than he'd ever thought possible as Earth is devoured by the expanding Sun.
He folds in on himself, crumpling to the ground under the onslaught only to wake with his eyes wide open, covers tangled around him and his hands fisted into the mattress so far that he's going to have to requisition a new one.
"Dream," he breathes out as he sits there. "It was just a dream."
But damned if there isn't a bit of Sarge's maniacal laughter still in the air as Len tries to lower his heart rate. It takes precious moments to free himself from the bedding, moments that he'd rather spend finding Jim to ensure that his name isn't on some memorial in the middle of the Academy, that he's still here and breathing. Len isn't surprised to see that he's still fully dressed, one shoe on and one shoe off, as he hurries into the hall only to bump into Chekov.
"Kid, what day is it?"
"Is Christmas!"
"Oh thank God, I haven't missed it. Not yet. Thanks, kid. And get some decorations up over here. Bit sparse in your decorating in this part of the ship, weren't you?" Len says as he hurries down the hall, ignoring the kid's puzzled expression, jumps into the lift, not slowing down until he reaches Jim's quarters.
He doesn't pause to think about what he's doing and why. Instead, he enters his medical override and slips in the door as it continues to slide open. Crossing the room doesn't register, nothing does until he's got his fingers pressed against Jim's throat and wrist, feeling for the pulse that has to be there.
"Whazadoin?" Jim slurs as he rolls towards Len. "Isn't shift yet, is it?"
"No, not yet. Go back to sleep." Len lets go of Jim's wrist and neck, intending to leave but finds himself hauled back against Jim.
"Stay here. Isa nice dream," Jim mutters against Len's back as Jim molds himself to Len.
"Not a dream."
"Course it is." Jim's hand rubs up and down his chest. "Gotta be, Bones."
"You're going to feel funny when you wake up, then." With that, Len lets himself relax into Jim's arms, falling asleep to the feel of Jim's heartbeat against him.
This time, when he wakes up, there's no heart pounding rush to get out of bed or strange apparition threatening him. There's just Jim looking at him.
"Not a dream, then?"
"Nope."
"There a reason you broke into my quarters to check my pulse?" Jim crosses his arms over his chest. Len sits up and mirrors his posture.
"Had a weird set of dreams. Featuring folks long dead, including Gaila."
Jim's face looks serious for a moment, but it smoothes over. "Oh yeah? Was I in any of it?" Jim leers, winking at Len.
"Yeah, actually. You were playing chess with Spock."
"Oh," Jim says, looking down briefly. "That's a boring dream, Bones. We need to get you laid."
"Why? You volunteering?" Len reaches out and touches Jim's chest, fingers brushing from center across his nipple to drift down his arm and to the back of his arm.
"What?" It's a proud moment in Len's long life. He's finally got James T Kirk to be speechless. "This a Christmas prank?"
"Nope."
"I don't believe you."
"I'll prove it to you."
"Oh yeah?" That's a Jim-dare if Len's ever heard one.
"Yeah. Shift's starting soon, gotta go." Len gets off the bed and heads towards the door. He pauses to say, "Gaila says you pulled a jerk maneuver on her, but she forgives you."
With that, he's out the door and to his own quarters to actually dress for the day. When he shows up to the medbay, Chapel's singing about turnpikes and pumpkin pies and Len joins in. It effectively shuts her up. If he'd known he'd get that much of a reaction, he would've tried it years ago.
The caseload is light and Len pretends that it's the universe's gift to him for showing some sort of Christmas cheer. When the time comes for the holiday party, Len waves all his senior staff out and then closes himself up in the office, waiting for a few minutes for the party to really get moving and for Jim to wonder.
When he walks into the party the entire room's attention pivots towards him. He feels like a bug under a microscope with the way that the jaws drop and everyone stares. "What're you looking at? Thought all the senior crew were invited."
"They are, Bones. Come on, everyone, let's eat." Jim swings his arm over Bones's shoulders, steering him towards the food.
"You don't have to work at keeping me here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah?"
"Well, except for just one little thing," Len says, moving towards Scotty, Sulu and Chekov.
"Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas, Doctor!"
"Scotty, when you pay up to Sulu, I expect the second bottle that you just bet to him to be delivered to my desk. Good quality bourbon, none of your moonshine shit."
"What?" Scotty's mouth drops open.
"You've got a physical due tomorrow at 0:800 sharp, too. Don't forget. New procedures down from Starfleet Med High Command. Wear loose pants." His grin is definitely feral as he watches Scotty pale, the threat of invasive procedures well delivered.
"Good Christmas," he says with a tilt of his head and then heads back to Jim. "Now where were we?"
"You were telling me who the hell you are and what you've done with the Bones I know and lo… that is, the Bones I know."
"Right here." Len doesn't look at Jim, just keeps piling up his plate with food.
"Yeah, but why?"
"Cause you asked me to come."
"I ask you every year and you never show. What changed?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"You'll have to try me."
"Later," Len says when they reach the end of the buffet line. "Where you want to sit?"
Jim gestures and Len starts to follow only to stop when Spock says, "I believe it is an Earth custom that one is not allowed to move from under the mistletoe without a customary kiss."
"What?" Len boggles at Spock.
"I believe the requirement for continued movement is a kiss. During important cultural occurrences, customs should be observed, no matter how illogical."
"He's got a point," Jim says, grinning at Len.
"Pointy-eared – " He doesn't get the chance to finish as Jim's lips press against his lightly. Len uses his free hand and cups the back of Jim's head, pressing their lips together more firmly.
"Fascinating," Spock says. "I wonder if any experimentation on this parasitic organism has ever been done to test its abilities."
"I'll work on that with you," Sulu says. "There's gotta be something in it to get that to finally happen."
"No testing needs to be done, dammit. It's none of your business, anyway." Len glares at the crowd and they all shrink away to different corners of the room. "That's more like it."
"We going to talk?" Jim says.
"Not here with all these busybodies. Told you I'd prove it to you. That proof enough or you need something else?"
"Good enough for me. You sure you don't want a line or two? Nice shoes, wanna fuck?"
"You ever try that shit on me, I'll put you on your ass."
"You and what army?"
"If you only knew."
Jim just looks at him and grins, his face flush with cheer, and Len has no choice but to grin back.
God bless us, everyone, he thinks, wryly, and laughs out loud.
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought.
Author:
wook77Fandom: Star Trek XI and Doom Crossover
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Wordcount: ~8700
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Doom Crossover
Summary: Bones is visited by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future. It still takes a clue by four to get him to own up to what he really feels for James Tiberius Kirk.
A/N: IDEK, Reaper!Bones? Many thanks to my beta,
djin7 who I owe about a billion times over. Obviously, all mistakes are my own. I'm not that late for Christmas as Orthodox Christmas is still to come! I blame elanorofcastile for this as she encouraged my madness. When Len steps out of his quarters, he's met with a horrifying sight. Right there, directly in front of him, is one Pavel Chekov (that isn't the horrifying part), who is currently hanging bright, fluffy, shiny, twinkling monstrosities all over the walls of the ship.
"Just what do you think you're doing, Ensign?" Bones demands.
"Decorating."
"Why?"
"Is Christmas!" Pavel turns a bright, sunny smile on him, speaking as if the answer is quite obvious and Bones is a particularly thick-headed child.
"And?"
"And we decorate?" There it is, that moment of hesitation and self-doubt. It's about damned time. This conversation is already about a minute too long and it's only been going on for a minute.
"Not near my quarters, you don't."
"But the Keptin – "
"But the Keptin, nothing. Get that shit off my walls and take it elsewhere. Dammit, this is a starship, not a sleigh!"
"Sorry, Doctor, sorry," Chekov gathers up the silver garland and the lights before scampering away.
"Damned straight." As he heads towards the turbolift, he mutters, "damnable holidays. Like anyone wants that bright shiny crap hanging around 'em."
Leonard McCoy hasn't enjoyed Christmas in about two hundred - maybe two hundred and fifty - years. Since long before he'd been Leonard McCoy. Seeing all the youngins beaming at one another, wishing one another the season's greetings (as if they haven't a care in the universe, despite how often they fight for their lives) and humming carols, it all gets to him, makes him go from "adorably irascible" (as Jim likes to call it) to "downright crotchety". And he's allowed, dammit. When you've been alive as long as he's been, you get to take liberties.
When the young lady in the lift with him starts humming another damnable hymn, he glares at her, crossing his arms over his chest and the humming immediately stops.
Yep, he's still got it. He throws in an extra sneer for good measure.
She hurries out of the lift on the floor above medbay and shoots one, last frightened gaze at him as she hurries away from him.
Unfortunately, he's forced to endure the continued holiday cheer once he's in his own domain. Snapping at Chapel - Dammit, it's not like we're going home for Christmas. Don't see why you're so happy. And stop singing about getting pumpkin pie and the turnpikes! - doesn't even put a dent into her sunny smile and cheer.
M'Benga isn't much better, snapping at him only gets Len a happy "Scrooge" tossed back at him. As if. He hasn't said "Bah Humbug" once, thank you very much.
For a brief moment, he wonders how far he can push the 'do no harm' clause of the Hippocratic Oath if he were to put all these fools out of their misery. Really, he'd be helping them.
"Feliz Navidad y uno prospero año, mucho felicidad!"
"You kiss your picture with that mouth?"
"Don't you mean my 'mother'?"
"Yo' Momma jokes went out of style about three hundred years ago. Thank God."
"About time to bring 'em back then."
"Jim," Len threatens. When he glances around the medbay, everyone's gazes slide away from Jim and him in a highly suspicious manner.
"Oh come on, Doctor Grinch. I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas," Jim sings in a falsetto voice, causing Leonard's teeth to grit. Maybe this healing factor has a bonus to it, after all. Who else could grit their teeth down so much and have 'em pop right back?
"Jim, if you know what's good for you…" He lets his voice trail off threateningly. Of course, Jim doesn't take him seriously and smirks before launching into a godawful song about decking halls and gifts and tinsel.
"Outta my sickbay before I decide you're due for an invasive physical."
"Define invasive." Jim's still smirking.
"Invasive invasive," Len states, flatly.
Jim's smirk disappears.
That's much better.
"Right, well, things to do, people to see. I've got a flagship to run, can't dillydally here all day. At ease, medbay!" Jim snaps a smart salute to the rest of the crew and leaves.
The silence that follows is blessedly long-lasting and lovely. It stretches throughout his shift, into his journey back to his quarters and throughout his solitary meal from the replicator. There's no way that he can face the combined cheer of multiple people in any public area of the ship.
He'll be quite glad when the holidays are over. He can deal with the fools celebrating a new year. At least, then, people get rip-roaring drunk and he doesn't have to deal with stupid songs. After all, no one knows more than the first few words of Auld Lang Syne, hundreds of years after the damned song was written. Thank God.
It's this whole 'familial bonding' and homesick emotional thing that he absolutely can't stand. He's able to function any other time of the year, any other season, but it's this time of the year, when everyone's supposed to spend time celebrating with their families, that he's reminded that his family is hundreds of years in the grave. He's used to not caring, used to moving on and forgetting about the ones around him.
And he has moved on, for the most part. But his hatred of the holidays stems from the constant reminder that the people he's around right now - people he, surprisingly enough, actually cares about – aren't going to be here forever. Eventually, in surprisingly few years, he will create a new identity for himself somewhere far, far away, once they're gone. He's actually going to miss these people, albeit, some more than most.
"Now for a turn for the morbid," he says to the empty room, raising a glass of bourbon and toasting it. "Thank the Lord that Christmas is tomorrow and this is over for another year."
With that, he locks his quarters with the medical override code (he knows Jim and his propensity for breaking into quarters, after all), strips and crawls into bed. He's asleep within minutes.
Only to wake up to the sound of a gun cocking. Old habits spring into play and he leaps out of bed towards the noise. A chuckle he hasn't heard in three hundred years answers him.
"What the everlasting fuck is going on here?" he asks as he takes in Duke standing in front of him.
"Miss me?" Duke asks.
"You're dead."
"Course I am."
"Then how the hell did you get here?" Len grabs a pair of pants and slips them on. He registers that he's taking the reappearance of Duke far too calmly.
"Magic, baby."
"Magic! God's sake, hallucinations shouldn't spout drivel." Once he's got his pants on, Len grabs a tricorder and starts scanning himself. The reading comes back normal, much to Duke's amusement.
"You're fine. Hell, more than fine - what with being how old?"
"Too old to be hallucinating your dead ass in front of me."
"You never read A Christmas Carol?"
"I've got better things to read."
"Seen the movies, right?"
"Whatever. Go away. Come back next year."
"Don't work like that, man. Here's the deal: you've turned into a bitter old guy. Like seriously bitter. More bitter than anything bitter ever."
"You sayin' I'm bitter?" Len asks, cocking an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.
"No shit. So, look, Reaper, your sister – "
"What's Sam got to do with this?"
"Let me finish, man - limited time and all that," Duke says and it's all too easy to fall into the once-familiar teasing patterns.
"Yeah, it'll take hours for you to get out whatever the hell you want to say. Gotta make sure it sounds witty so you don't show what a dumbass you are." Len smirks.
"I am the man! You better recognize! Now look, your sister, you're stressing her out."
"She's dead."
"Yeah, yeah, that's what you said about me and look where I am."
"Haunting me."
"Exactly. Never said that the afterlife was all perfect and shit."
"So what did you do to get stuck visiting me? At least Marley was a dick to the poor."
"You did read the book! Probably something to do with this," Duke says, gesturing towards the gun. "Look, doesn't matter. Thing is, you're bitter, Sam's stressed, I'm here. So three ghosts, yadda, yadda. Repent or you're going to be a miserable fuck for the rest of your very long life."
"I am a miserable fuck, thank you very much. There you go, problem solved! Nice to see you again, Duke. And if you fuck over my sister, I'll find you and drag your ass into hell with me."
"Doesn't work like that."
"Fine. Send Sam to explain it to me," Len says and blatantly turns his back on Duke, crawling back into bed.
"Wish I could, man. Wish I could. Good luck, Reaper." Duke flips a salute at him.
Len only snorts and tosses the blankets over his head. Blessed silence comes. After a few minutes, Len snorts again, flips the blankets back off his head and says, "Never were good at hiding."
"I almost had you."
"Bullshit."
"It really was good to see you again, Reaper."
"Not 'Reaper' any more."
"Yeah, all right, Bones." Duke grins at him, chuckling again before sobering. "Seriously, man. You need the help."
"I'm a doctor now, I know how to diagnose this sort of shit and I say I'm just fine."
"Physician, heal thyself." Duke starts to go wavy. "Gotta go."
"Good to see you, man. Tell Sam I love her."
"She knows." With that, Duke fades from view and Len is left alone. He flops back against his pillows, snorts and falls asleep.
This time, he wakes up to the damnable sound of Carol of the Bells being hummed.
"Keep going and I'll shoot you where you stand, I'm not fucking kidding," he mutters from within his cocoon.
"Naw, you wouldn't shoot me, would you?"
"Kid, I'd shoot my mother if she were singing Christmas carols."
"Well, I only get an hour to do this and we've got a lot to do so you want to get over here so I can get through this?"
"Can we just say we did?"
"Nope. Doesn't work like that." The Kid sits on his bed, causing the mattress to slump and Len resists the pull to roll that way. "Easy way, or hard way - up to you."
"Kid – "
"You think you could call me Mark?"
"Mark. Not interested. I'm happy being miserable. Keeps me sane."
"Fine," The Kid says and presses the gun to the back of Len's head and pulls the trigger. By the time that Len's brain catches up with the idea that he's been shot, he's standing in the middle of The Dig at Olduvai.
"You shot me, you little fuck!" Len turns on The Kid and stalks towards him, hands outstretched so he can strangle the little punk.
"Told you, the easy way or hard way. You picked hard." The Kid backs away, holding up his hands in an obvious attempt to ward Len off.
"Why the hell would you bring me here anyway? We going to watch Sarge kill you again?" He'd meant that to come out harsh – he exceeds his expectations impressively.
"Watch and learn." The Kid gestures over Len's shoulder.
"Fine," Len says with a huff and turns to watch his five-year-old self come running across The Dig, chased by his sister, Sam. They're both giggling and shouting back and forth. A woman stands up and yells at them, making Len's heart stutter. "Mom."
"Want to go closer?" The Kid asks but Len's already crossing The Dig before he can finish. "She's pretty."
"Yeah, Sam looks a lot like her." His mom reaches down and lets the pair of them clamber up her body, trying to get higher than the other. Their combined weight sends her toppling backwards. They proceed to tickle her as she fends them off. Len's heart skips and starts as he takes in the beautiful, shining smile on her face.
"Who do you look like?" The Kid asks. Len can't help the way that he gets angry at The Kid for interrupting but he shakes it off as he watches his mom turn towards another site and call for help. The other archeologists barely react, pausing in their work only to shake their heads and grin.
"My dad. Who should be… there." Len gestures towards the excavation site next to his mother's. A man steps out of it and comes over, scooping the little Len – then John, the name he was born with - up and raising him high over his head. Sam stands up and begs for a chance, too.
"You guys look really happy."
"Yeah, we were."
"This was a good Christmas, then?"
"Yeah." And it had been. John and Sam find themselves slung over a shoulder each, heads dangling down their father's back, as they head out of The Dig.
"We got other times to visit. Easy way or hard way?" The Kid asks as they disappear from view.
"Just take me back to the Enterprise."
"Hard way it is." The Kid shoots him again, this time straight into the chest.
"Fuck's sake! That hurts. Oh and just great, now it's raining. I'm shot, twice, and wet. What a great experience. I promise to be happy for the rest of my everlasting existence! I repent." Len looks around and takes in the jungle with its dripping canopy. He can barely make out the camp off to the side. "What am I supposed to see here, Oh Ghost of Christmas Past?"
"Sarcasm: the tool of the weak."
"Guns: the tool of aggression."
"Good comeback. I liked it. Hurry up or we're not going to get to the other stuff." The Kid marches through the trees, the branches moving away from him. "Man, this place sucks," The Kid says as he starts towards the camp. "You coming?"
With a shake of his head, Len follows into the clearing where he sees all of the team sitting around a sputtering fire while cleaning their guns. This mission had been a few years before Olduvai.
"Come on, Sarge, let's just go blow some shit up and then we can be home in time for pie," Duke says as he thumbs his gun.
"We'll hold here, do just what we're told. Mission parameters state – "
"Oh come on, mission parameters, my ass. We're in the middle of the fucking jungle and it's Christmas!" Duke turns towards Reaper and says, "Come on, make him hurry this shit up. I've got pie waiting for me. Homemade pumpkin pie, man. I'll even get you a slice if you can get us out of here first."
"Just shut up and this whole thing will go a lot smoother," Reaper says.
"If all your missions were like this, I'm sort of glad I didn't make it past my first one," The Kid says from Len's shoulder.
"Sometimes, there were explosions, too," Len says and, right on cue, a fireball erupts into the sky. The sound comes next, followed by a blast of heat and the team in front of them scrambles into readiness. Gunfire erupts all around them and The Kid claps him on the shoulder and the vision swirls away as two of the team members die, calling for help.
Only to have them land in a church. Poinsettias adorn every surface in a rainbow of colors from blue to pink to white to red. The smell of beeswax candles hang heavy in the air. Every person in the church is quiet. From their position behind the altar, Len tenses as soon as he sees the man standing in front of the priest.
"Get us the hell out of here, Kid, now."
"Sorry?" The Kid asks.
"Kid, Mark, this ain't funny. Get us the hell out of here now. I'm not kidding."
"Sorry, you have to see this."
"We only have an hour, remember? This memory's a helluva lot longer than an hour."
"An hour's as long as we need it to be. You have to watch." The Kid looks sympathetic but Len doesn't care.
He refuses to watch what happens next. He won't do it and no one can make him, either.
No one but himself. Damn his masochistic streak.
The music swells and, at the end of the aisle, a vision in a white dress appears. Len's heart clenches as John appears next to her. By the time they reach the altar, Len can't look away, much as he wants.
"She's a beautiful bride. I'm glad you saved her."
"That why we're here? You punishing me for not saving you?" Len says bitterly, not looking away from his sister and his former self at the altar.
"I'm here to help you."
"This ain't helping," Len says as he watches John lift Sam's veil and then kiss her on the cheek. It hurts to see that level of happiness, to remember it intimately, all at the same time. He's suppressed those memories, dammit. Compartmentalizing is the only thing that's got him through all these years and will get him through all the years to come.
"I understand that there's some good stuff at the reception," The Kid says and touches Len's shoulder, whisking him away to the reception and right into the Father-Daughter dance where he'd danced with Sam in lieu of their deceased father until he'd handed her over to her new husband.
He watches them dance and he can remember the conversation like it'd been just five minutes ago.
"He ever treats you wrong, you let me know and I'll – "
"There's no need for that. He's a good man."
"Not good enough for you."
"Look at you, former Marine man, getting all protective over the little woman," Sam teases and pokes him in the shoulder.
"Damned straight I am," John answers back and shrugs off the tap on his shoulder. He shrugs off the second one, as well, causing the audience to laugh. A third tap and he turns to the man behind him and growls, "You ever even make her tear up, and you'll be answering to me."
Her new husband pales and he grins, as Sam slaps his arm in teasing recrimination.
As Sam leaves John's arms and enters her husband's, The Kid touches Len's shoulder and suddenly they're in a nursing home.
"Fuck's sake, not this one, too. You know which ones to really make me even more miserable, don't you?"
"That last one wasn't a happy Christmas?"
"Yeah, one that was hundreds of years ago, jackass. How'm I supposed to be happy about that? And then you bring me to this one? You're an asshole." Len stalks down the hall, flings open the door and snarls, "Fine, she's dying. You showed me my worst Christmas ever. I'm miserable. You win. I'm sorry I didn't save you from Sarge."
"Oh, Reaper, that isn't it at all. Listen," The Kid says, gesturing towards where Reaper squats in an uncomfortable chair next to a frail, old woman.
A nurse bustles in, blowing right through Len and The Kid as she approaches the pair at the bed. "So nice of you to visit your grandmother."
"She ain't my grandmother," Reaper snarls. "Ain't none of your business so just butt out and leave a dying woman her peace."
"Stop that, John, leave the nice woman alone," Sam says in a small voice. He'd barely heard it the first time around but this time, it sounds as if it'd been broadcast through speakers. His heart seizes up once more.
"None of her business, Sam, and you know it."
"She's being nice. You remember what that's about, right?" Sam reaches a shaky hand up to where their entwined hands rest and pats his.
"Yeah, well, it's been awhile." The nurse makes a noise and Reaper looks up, snarling once more, "You want to leave us alone here?"
"Of course," she says and hurries back out of the room.
"Haven't much time, John," Sam says.
"I know, baby, I know."
"I'd do it again, if I had the chance."
"Me too, if it meant saving you," Reaper says as he grasps both her hands with his. "I love you, Sam."
Sam looks up at Reaper and then, surprisingly, over to where Len and The Kid are standing and says, "I love you, too. Always."
Len feels something warm go through him, even as his heart breaks at Sam's condition, knowing she's not long for the world.
"We've got one more," The Kid says and slings his arm over Len's shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze. When they land, they're in the barracks at Starfleet Academy. A sad, pathetic-looking tree blinks forlornly while two men sing awful carols with made up lyrics replacing the actual ones.
"Who's that?" The Kid asks, gesturing towards the man dancing around next to where Len sits on a worn sofa.
"You know damned well who that is."
"Looks like you're enjoying yourself." Len ignores him as he watches Jim collapse back against the couch, slumping against Len who smoothes down Jim's hair in a far-too-tender gesture.
"I get it. Some Christmases were better than others. Doesn't make me want to enjoy them now."
An alarm goes off directly behind Len and The Kid. Len startles, too fixated on the way that he'd pulled Jim against his chest and was smoothing his hair before slumping into the sofa and drifting off to sleep.
"That'd be our cue. Time to head back."
"About damned time."
"Easy way or hard way?"
"You think you're going to get to shoot me again, you've got another thing coming." This time, it's Len that touches The Kid. They swirl away and arrive back in his quarters.
"See ya, Reaper."
"Not Reaper anymore, Kid."
"Good to see you again, John."
"It's Leonard, now. Good to see you, too, Mark," Len says softly, as The Kid wavers and, with a quick wave, disappears. "Can't wait for the next one. Maybe he'll put out my eyes or something. Can't hurt any worse."
Instead of crawling back into bed, he heads into his bathroom, brushes his teeth and splashes some water on his face. He's walking back into his bedroom, toweling off his face when he hears, "Now isn't that a sight."
Len lowers the towel and sees a familiar green girl reclining on his bed. "Gaila?"
"In the flesh! Well, the ghostly flesh! How've you been? Long time and no see and all that!" Gaila kicks her feet against his bed. Len suppresses the urge to tell her to get her damned shoes off his damned bed.
"You want me to answer that?"
"Hey, could be worse. You could be dead."
"You make a good point. You want to get your boots off my bed?"
"Aren't they awesome? I figured, what with being a ghost of Christmas Present and all that, that I'd dress the part. You like it?" Gaila hops off his bed and twirls, hands fluffing her bright red skirt with white, fluffy trim, and then giving a sassy kick with her green boots and their curled toes.
"You look like the offspring of Mrs. Claus and one of Santa's elves."
"I know, isn't it great? This is fantastic. Who knew being dead would be so much fun?" Gaila dances over to him and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "So, are you shirtless just cause you knew I was coming?"
"No, I'm shirtless because the last ghost woke me up and then shot me a bunch of times. You going to shoot me?"
"I'd rather not."
"Good."
"Well, you ready to see how awesome Christmas is?" Gaila pecks him on the cheek once more.
"You're an Orion. You don't have Christmas."
"We can have whatever we want. Besides, I get to wear fabulous shoes and a great dress! Plus, I get to see you shirtless. Seems like Santa thinks I've been a good girl."
"I would say that dying has hurt your powers of reason, but you always were unique."
"Thanks! That's the sweetest thing that anyone has ever said to me!" She kisses him once more. Her hands slide around his body and then suddenly they're in the medbay. He's still shirtless, dammit.
"So, this is how you spend your Christmases? That's sort of sad and pathetic," she says as she walks through the medbay and picks up tools before setting them down. Len follows after her, straightening the tools.
"It's how I like it."
"But it's just you over there in that office and no one around. At least tell me that you're going to listen to a couple of songs or something. Maybe have some fruitcake?"
"Do you know what all is in fruitcake?" Len glares at her as she opens a cabinet, grabs a few rolls of gauze and starts to juggle them. She looks absolutely ridiculous in her Mrs. Claus outfit while she juggles but Len can't help wanting to smile at her for some godforsaken reason.
"Nope."
"No one does. That's the problem. It's completely unidentifiable. There's a thousand ways that it could poison you."
"Or Jim. He still allergic to peanuts?" Her juggling doesn't stop as she adds in a hip shimmy and then starts walking around the medbay.
"What's Jim got to do with anything?"
She merely quirks an eyebrow at him before asking, "You want to toss in another roll here? I think I can do five."
"I'd rather not."
"Party-pooper. You ever let yourself have fun?" she asks as she maneuvers herself back towards the cabinet with the gauze and then, juggling with one hand, grabs another roll of gauze and adds it into the mix.
"I have fun."
"Oh yeah? What do you do for fun?" her eyebrow rises once more.
"I… well, I… I do plenty of things that are none of your business."
"Oh, good cover-up! If I weren't dead and omnipotent right now, I'd totally believe you!"
"So what? You're here to tell me how miserable I am and then show me that, today, I'll spend the day the same as I did last year?" He waves vaguely around the medbay, making his point.
"Yep."
"Mission accomplished. Can we head back to bed now?"
"Sorry, honey, I'm dead and you're taken."
"I'm what?"
"Oh, that's right. Oops, forgot to show you the next one," she says and then catches each roll of gauze, the last one is deftly caught behind her back. "Well, onwards."
"You going to teleport me somewhere?"
"Actually, I thought we'd walk. It's just down the hall. Never did get to explore much of the Farragut. Was too busy dying, unfortunately. The Enterprise is rather cool, though. Nice to see more of a ship than just the shuttle bay and engineering." She heads out the door and Len, shaking his head, follows her. "Oh, look at all this garland! And lights! You humans sure do know how to celebrate when you focus on it. I love those carols, too. Want me to sing for you?"
"No."
"I'm not bad, see?" Gaila starts singing something about needing a Christmas, doing a kickstep as she goes.
"You ever listen when someone says 'no'?"
"Nope. Dead, remember? I can do what I want. Hurry up, we're going to miss the food," she says, grabbing his hand and tugging him along.
They enter the senior officer's lounge without having taken a lift – Len suspects Gaila of teleporting anyways.
"Look at this spread! You guys have it good here. How can you want to be down there," she pauses to gesture back towards the medbay, "in a teeny little office when you could be up here eating all the junk you want? It's not like you're going to gain any weight or anything. Oh, look, fruitcake!" Gaila wanders off, wiggling between some of the people and floating through others. She reaches for something on the table and her hand ghosts through it. Deciding that he'd rather not hear about it, Len wanders over towards where he sees Jim and Spock standing.
"Captain, I suspect that Doctor McCoy plans to continue his holiday celebrations alone. It would be good for morale if we were to commence the celebration here without him." Spock is standing next to Jim, leaning in closely and whispering. Hearing his name, he goes a little closer. He's only human.
"Give him a few minutes."
"Captain," Spock says, "Jim. I understand your desire to celebrate a historically familial holiday with your loved ones – "
"He'll be here, Spock."
"Jim, the fact that Doctor McCoy prefers to celebrate without you is not a reflection as to the current status of your relationship or lack thereof."
Now what in the blazes is Spock on about? They're perfectly good friends. That's a relationship, dammit.
"He'll be here, Spock," Jim says and Len recognizes that stubborn tilt to his chin just like he recognizes the challenging tone of voice.
"Jim. Doctor McCoy cares about you. His lack of presence here is not a reflection on his level of affection for you."
"He'll be here."
"But you won't be, will you? Because you love being miserable more than you love Jim," Gaila says from beside his elbow, making him jump.
"We're friends."
"Yep. Friends that love one another in a more-than-friendly sort of way. Look at him. You're making him miserable. See? He's clenching his fist. You remember what that means?"
Course he remembers what it means. His heart twists up just a bit as Jim looks at the door one more time and then back towards the assembled senior officers and then looks at the door again. Jim gestures towards Spock and Spock announces that the celebration has begun. Len hurts just watching the way that Jim's shoulders slump slightly before he turns to get some of the food.
"Told you he wouldn't show. You owe me a bottle," Scotty says to Sulu as they walk through Len and towards the table.
"Still time."
"Come on, man enjoys his solitude. He's probably halfway to arsed by now."
"Nope, not paying up until the Captain calls it."
"Bet you another bottle that he's down in his office, bottle on the table and a glass in his hand, drinking his bourbon and staring at the holo of his daughter."
Len can't even argue with it. It's exactly how he'd spent the previous Christmas and plans to do the same again this year. Just because he can't argue with it doesn't mean that Scotty isn't going to get a few extra and, possibly, painful inoculations. Just in case he's exposed to a few rare diseases.
"The Doctor is probably in the lift right now. He is miserable but he would not hurt the Keptin," Chekov says as he joins the gossiping duo.
"Yeah, point," Sulu says and the three of the grab plates and start assembling.
"Who's that?" Gaila asks as she gestures towards the trio.
"Which asshole are you asking about?"
"The cute one?"
"None of them."
"You don't find his accent cute?" Gaila huffs and crosses her arms, leaning back and glaring at him before turning back towards the three men filling their plates to brimming.
"He's like twelve. You can't possibly find him attractive."
"Not the little one, the other one, in red."
"That's Scotty, he's our Chief Engineer."
"Too bad I didn't get the Enterprise. We would've had a lot of fun," she says on a sigh. "Oh well. This whole gig sort of blows. I'm stuck with you, Doctor Grumpypants, and I can't even eat or flirt or anything. Well, except with you but I don't want to flirt with you because Jim would be pissed. Not that I'm not pissed at him or anything, because that was a dick thing to pull."
"Color me surprised that Jim pulled an asshole maneuver."
"It's all right. I'm sure he would've apologized eventually. I think he tried but I was newly dead, couldn't really see it."
"Huh," Len says because he has no idea what she's talking about.
"Oh well, can't help that I got him to pass the Kobayashi Maru in a really shitty sort of way. He'll be nicer to you when he tells you he loves you. I promise, no virus for you!"
"That how he passed?" Trust Jim to find a way to slip the code in so no one would be the wiser until well after he'd done it.
"Yep. Want me to fast-forward this?" Gaila asks and then kisses his cheek. The officers speed up, moving quickly from table to table, mingling and eating at lightning fast speed. "And, now, for your viewing pleasure, we have kicked puppy at Christmas!"
Time slows and the other officers trickle out, casting quick looks back towards Jim as he sits with Spock at a table in the corner, chess game going on the table, though their competition doesn't have nearly the same intensity that they normally have. In fact, Jim does rather resemble a kicked puppy. He's barely moving any of the pieces and, when he does, even Len can see how poorly planned the moves were.
"Captain, you should not take this personally. Doctor McCoy is unaware of your feelings on this matter of holiday celebrations. Perhaps you should inform him."
"Yeah, well, it's one of those 'I don't want it if I have to ask for it' situations."
"How would you receive it without requesting it?"
"You ask Uhura for your relationship or did it just happen?"
"Ah," Spock says and then moves a piece. "Fascinating."
"What? That you're kicking my ass or the analogy?"
"Both. Check."
"I can still pull this out."
"Of course you can, Captain," Spock says as he waits for Jim to complete his move.
"You feeling like a selfish, bitter asshole yet?" Gaila surprises him once more.
"Already there, sweetheart. Been there for a long time." He doesn't look towards Gaila. Instead, he watches as Jim morosely moves another piece.
"Come on, time to see the next bit."
"Oh goody, there's a next part."
"And away we go," Gaila says, reaching around him and squeezing his ass as they're back in medbay.
"Haven't we been here before?"
"Not this time, no." Gaila wanders away from him. "I think I'll just be over here."
"Sorry?" Len asks only to get a wave of Gaila's hand as the response.
The door to medbay slides open and Jim comes in, bouncing off the furniture in a drunken lurch as he tries to get to the office.
"How much did he have to drink since we left him?"
"How much you think? It's been twenty minutes."
"There's no way he can be that drunk," Bones says as Jim bangs on the door to the office and, once it opens, fall through to slump against Len.
"Come on, let's get you to a bed."
"Your bed?" Jim slurs out.
"He faking it?" Len asks Gaila.
"Master of the Obvious, you are correct. Only way to get you to pay any attention or care, right?"
"Bullshit." Len doesn't bother glaring at her. Instead, he watches Jim sling an arm around his future self and then wobble towards the door. Len's arm goes around Jim and holds on as they cross the medbay.
"Missed you at dinner."
"Was that today?" Len asks, clearly trying to avoid the meaning behind Jim's words.
"Why didn't you come? Doncha love me?" Jim asks as he flops his head against Len's shoulder and then nuzzles into his neck.
"Course I love you."
"Naw, if you loved me, you'd spend Christmas with me."
"He's got a point," Gaila says from across the medbay. "And it looks like he's taking Spock's advice and asking you for it."
"Jim," both of the Lens say at the same time.
"Is ok. Just wish you'd stop being such a miserable fuck and spend some time on a holiday with me. You going to do the invasive invasive physical now?"
"Jim," they say again. "It's not you."
"Yeah, that line went out of style like hundreds of years ago. And no one believed it then."
"Jim."
"That's m'name, don't wear it out. Seriously, Bones, had to deal with Spock's sympathy. You ever get Vulcan sympathy? It's like a hot stick to the eye. It's awful and weird and awkward and shit. And it's all your fault."
"I'm sorry." They finally reach the doors and Len thumbs the door open, pulling Jim even closer and rubbing his hands up and down Jim's side.
"No, you're not."
"He's got you there."
"You weren't this rude when you were alive."
"Yeah, well, I was trying to be nice then. Now I get to tell you that I think you're a cowardly and bitter old guy. Come on, I can't take poor Jim any more. Time to get you back to your bed, so you can ignore all of this and continue to be a miserable schmuck." Gaila hops off the biobed and then saunters over towards him.
"You know the word 'schmuck'?"
"Yep. Omnipotent right now, remember?" Instead of the groping or the kiss, Gaila taps his cheek a couple of times and they land back in his darkened bedroom. "Try to remember that you love him and he loves you and stop being so bitter. K?"
Len hasn't a clue what to say to her, too fixated on the conversations that he's just heard.
"And tell Jim that I forgive him, ok? It was a jerk thing to do but whatever, life's too short to hold a grudge." With that, she disappears from view, leaving Len alone.
"Huh." Len shakes his head to clear it. Figuring he's doomed for a third visitor yet tonight, he tugs on a shirt and then adds a pair of shoes.
There's no warning before he's tackled and being pinned to the ground by a body just as he finishes pulling on his left shoe. "Come on, soldier, it hasn't been long enough yet, has it?"
"I should've figured it would be you. I killed you," Len says as he pushes up against Sarge's body.
"Still dead and still tougher than you. You always were second best."
"Except when I killed you."
"Which you did by cheating. Man to man, I was beating you."
Len relaxes his body, letting Sarge slightly overbalance and then reaches up and grabs Sarge's neck, pulling him forward and throwing him off.
"Last I figured, my brain's part of my body so man to man, I kicked your ass and then blew it into a thousand parts. Face it, you lost." Len stands up quickly, preparing himself for the next attack.
"Rematch time," Sarge says with an evil grin twisting his features. "This is going to be great."
Sarge cracks his knuckles and then charges, sending them flying backwards. They don't land on the bed as Len had expected. Instead, they crash onto the hard floor of a nondescript bar. Cracking his hands against Sarge's ears, Len follows by headbutting him and getting out from under him.
"We don't like your kind here," A Romulan says to another patron.
"Join the club, asshole," Len hears himself mutter. He takes his attention off of Sarge for just an instant to see himself sitting at the bar, a glass of bourbon in front of him.
"You should go back to where you came from," the Romulan continues to threaten.
"You realize how much you sound like a dime novel tough? Move on, asshole, you don't want the trouble you're borrowing and I'm in a shitty mood."
The Romulan swings but doesn't have time to finish. Instead, the other Len slams his fist to the underside of his jaw and then into the Romulan's chest, sending him to the floor. Len then turns back to the drink in front of him and sips.
"Now we're talking. You see that move you just did? That is what we're meant for. That is why we were given the chromosomes," Sarge says from his shoulder.
"This isn't the way it's going to go down," Len says as he watches the Romulan pick himself off the floor and then, with a bunch of his friends, jump the Len at the bar. Within moments, there aren't any Romulans left standing. The other Len steps over the bodies and leaves the bar without looking back.
"That was well done, soldier! I knew you could get it back." Sarge claps him on the shoulder and they're whisked away to New Vulcan. Len's never really cared for the dry, arid place. He much prefers the humid heat of Georgia in the summer, if he's going to have to get warm weather.
"I'm just embarrassed to be here right now. Look at the way you're sitting there with him. You going to cry, soldier?" Sarge asks, pushing him forward towards where two men sit on the patio with the red rocks in the background.
"This is highly illogical."
"Yeah, well, you wanted to see me, you got me. What's this about?"
"Though I do not ascribe much truth to rumors – "
"Get to the point."
"Rumors came through that you were still alive. I wanted verification."
"Yeah, still alive."
"It is quite remarkable that you have not aged at all."
"Not all of us get to age gracefully."
"That was a good one," Sarge says, knocking into Len with a hipcheck. "God, I love you like this! It's like having my Reaper back instead of the pansy-assed Len standing here."
Len ignores him, focusing on the conversation in front of him instead.
"How long have you had this ability?"
"Hundreds of years."
"It was highly illogical that you did not confess to your abilities when they were needed most. At that last, your skills and abilities might have been invaluable in saving lives. However, that is merely speculative."
"I'm sorry about Uhura," Len says, pushing off the chair and heading towards the doors.
"She is not whom I was referencing, Doctor," Spock calls out after him but Len doesn't stop.
"Who's he talking about?" Len turns towards Sarge who only grins at him once more and then claps him on the shoulder, sending them to a large memorial erected on the lawn of Starfleet Academy. There, in large bold letters, was Jim's name while a holovid played of him during his interviews and reports. Not in a single image does Len see Jim as anything older than forty-ish. Shit.
"What's this about?" Len looks around, trying to get more information from the memorial and the students around it. There has to be some sort of clue about what happens to Jim. Walking around the memorial, he keeps tapping at it until he finally understands the conversation with Spock. It hadn't been about Uhura. It'd been about Jim. It's always about Jim.
"You have a habit of losing commanding officers, don't you?" Sarge says with a sneer . He punches Len and the world goes grey and then bright white. When Len's eyes adapt to the light, he sees himself leaning back against the memorial, hands calmly crossed in front of him. Len hasn't any clue how far into the future they are but the memorial looks as new as it had been in the last. Only the disappearance of the Academy, the crumbled buildings and ruined lawn tell Len that they're far in the future.
"The hell's happened here?"
"Time. War. Progress. You name it. You, though, you just continue to disappoint me. Look at this fucking place." Sarge waves his hands around. "Place is falling down around you and you're still here, taking care of that stupid slab of stone."
"Fuck you, that's for Jim." Len is instantly defensive. The light gets brighter and brighter while the air gets warmer and warmer.
"The last mission is always the greatest, isn't it?" Sarge asks.
Len looks around at all the decay of San Francisco, then takes in his future self's state, leaning up against Jim's memorial. Looking up at the relentless bright sky, he realizes why his future self is here, waiting.
"Get ready for it!" Sarge shouts, tilting his head back and laughing. Len feels his skin cooking off his bones, the heat killing him slower than he'd ever thought possible as Earth is devoured by the expanding Sun.
He folds in on himself, crumpling to the ground under the onslaught only to wake with his eyes wide open, covers tangled around him and his hands fisted into the mattress so far that he's going to have to requisition a new one.
"Dream," he breathes out as he sits there. "It was just a dream."
But damned if there isn't a bit of Sarge's maniacal laughter still in the air as Len tries to lower his heart rate. It takes precious moments to free himself from the bedding, moments that he'd rather spend finding Jim to ensure that his name isn't on some memorial in the middle of the Academy, that he's still here and breathing. Len isn't surprised to see that he's still fully dressed, one shoe on and one shoe off, as he hurries into the hall only to bump into Chekov.
"Kid, what day is it?"
"Is Christmas!"
"Oh thank God, I haven't missed it. Not yet. Thanks, kid. And get some decorations up over here. Bit sparse in your decorating in this part of the ship, weren't you?" Len says as he hurries down the hall, ignoring the kid's puzzled expression, jumps into the lift, not slowing down until he reaches Jim's quarters.
He doesn't pause to think about what he's doing and why. Instead, he enters his medical override and slips in the door as it continues to slide open. Crossing the room doesn't register, nothing does until he's got his fingers pressed against Jim's throat and wrist, feeling for the pulse that has to be there.
"Whazadoin?" Jim slurs as he rolls towards Len. "Isn't shift yet, is it?"
"No, not yet. Go back to sleep." Len lets go of Jim's wrist and neck, intending to leave but finds himself hauled back against Jim.
"Stay here. Isa nice dream," Jim mutters against Len's back as Jim molds himself to Len.
"Not a dream."
"Course it is." Jim's hand rubs up and down his chest. "Gotta be, Bones."
"You're going to feel funny when you wake up, then." With that, Len lets himself relax into Jim's arms, falling asleep to the feel of Jim's heartbeat against him.
This time, when he wakes up, there's no heart pounding rush to get out of bed or strange apparition threatening him. There's just Jim looking at him.
"Not a dream, then?"
"Nope."
"There a reason you broke into my quarters to check my pulse?" Jim crosses his arms over his chest. Len sits up and mirrors his posture.
"Had a weird set of dreams. Featuring folks long dead, including Gaila."
Jim's face looks serious for a moment, but it smoothes over. "Oh yeah? Was I in any of it?" Jim leers, winking at Len.
"Yeah, actually. You were playing chess with Spock."
"Oh," Jim says, looking down briefly. "That's a boring dream, Bones. We need to get you laid."
"Why? You volunteering?" Len reaches out and touches Jim's chest, fingers brushing from center across his nipple to drift down his arm and to the back of his arm.
"What?" It's a proud moment in Len's long life. He's finally got James T Kirk to be speechless. "This a Christmas prank?"
"Nope."
"I don't believe you."
"I'll prove it to you."
"Oh yeah?" That's a Jim-dare if Len's ever heard one.
"Yeah. Shift's starting soon, gotta go." Len gets off the bed and heads towards the door. He pauses to say, "Gaila says you pulled a jerk maneuver on her, but she forgives you."
With that, he's out the door and to his own quarters to actually dress for the day. When he shows up to the medbay, Chapel's singing about turnpikes and pumpkin pies and Len joins in. It effectively shuts her up. If he'd known he'd get that much of a reaction, he would've tried it years ago.
The caseload is light and Len pretends that it's the universe's gift to him for showing some sort of Christmas cheer. When the time comes for the holiday party, Len waves all his senior staff out and then closes himself up in the office, waiting for a few minutes for the party to really get moving and for Jim to wonder.
When he walks into the party the entire room's attention pivots towards him. He feels like a bug under a microscope with the way that the jaws drop and everyone stares. "What're you looking at? Thought all the senior crew were invited."
"They are, Bones. Come on, everyone, let's eat." Jim swings his arm over Bones's shoulders, steering him towards the food.
"You don't have to work at keeping me here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah?"
"Well, except for just one little thing," Len says, moving towards Scotty, Sulu and Chekov.
"Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas, Doctor!"
"Scotty, when you pay up to Sulu, I expect the second bottle that you just bet to him to be delivered to my desk. Good quality bourbon, none of your moonshine shit."
"What?" Scotty's mouth drops open.
"You've got a physical due tomorrow at 0:800 sharp, too. Don't forget. New procedures down from Starfleet Med High Command. Wear loose pants." His grin is definitely feral as he watches Scotty pale, the threat of invasive procedures well delivered.
"Good Christmas," he says with a tilt of his head and then heads back to Jim. "Now where were we?"
"You were telling me who the hell you are and what you've done with the Bones I know and lo… that is, the Bones I know."
"Right here." Len doesn't look at Jim, just keeps piling up his plate with food.
"Yeah, but why?"
"Cause you asked me to come."
"I ask you every year and you never show. What changed?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"You'll have to try me."
"Later," Len says when they reach the end of the buffet line. "Where you want to sit?"
Jim gestures and Len starts to follow only to stop when Spock says, "I believe it is an Earth custom that one is not allowed to move from under the mistletoe without a customary kiss."
"What?" Len boggles at Spock.
"I believe the requirement for continued movement is a kiss. During important cultural occurrences, customs should be observed, no matter how illogical."
"He's got a point," Jim says, grinning at Len.
"Pointy-eared – " He doesn't get the chance to finish as Jim's lips press against his lightly. Len uses his free hand and cups the back of Jim's head, pressing their lips together more firmly.
"Fascinating," Spock says. "I wonder if any experimentation on this parasitic organism has ever been done to test its abilities."
"I'll work on that with you," Sulu says. "There's gotta be something in it to get that to finally happen."
"No testing needs to be done, dammit. It's none of your business, anyway." Len glares at the crowd and they all shrink away to different corners of the room. "That's more like it."
"We going to talk?" Jim says.
"Not here with all these busybodies. Told you I'd prove it to you. That proof enough or you need something else?"
"Good enough for me. You sure you don't want a line or two? Nice shoes, wanna fuck?"
"You ever try that shit on me, I'll put you on your ass."
"You and what army?"
"If you only knew."
Jim just looks at him and grins, his face flush with cheer, and Len has no choice but to grin back.
God bless us, everyone, he thinks, wryly, and laughs out loud.
