Work Text:
“No, it’s not- I’m not deluded! I really am a Starfleet Captain. My name is James Tiberius Kirk. I was born on Kelvin Memorial Day. It’s not even possible that my name is not in those records.”
As always, the doctor just looked at him and sighed. Jim didn’t know exactly how long it had been since the transporter had malfunctioned and he’d found himself on an unfamiliar planet miraculously populated by humans, but it had been long enough that they’d lost patience with him. They claimed not to even know what Starfleet was, said that they were wholly unaware of the concept of space travel despite their civilization being otherwise more than advanced enough to warrant contact from the Federation.
With all the drugs and therapies they’d subjected him to -thankfully none as painful as he’d maybe been anticipating- clearly they’d been hoping it would begin to have an effect. But he knew himself, knew who he was and where he had come from, and he wouldn’t give it up just because it differed from the experiences of everybody else.
Then again, that was pretty much the definition of madness, wasn’t it?
His crew would find him soon. He had to believe that. Scotty would interrogate the transporter for information on where he had ended up, and Spock would find a way to get him back. Sulu and Chekhov would make sure they made it in one piece, so that Uhura would talk to the people on the planet and make them understand.
And then Puri- well, he’d poke and prod and declare Jim just as sane as he had ever been. Jim had never met a doctor he liked, but Puri was alright. Most of the Starfleet medical personnel had grown sick of the sight of Jim, ever since he staggered half-cut and bleeding onto the shuttle and spent the journey silently questioning his own life choices.
The point was, Jim just had to hold out and stay where he was, and his crew would find him. It was all he had to believe in.
“We’re trying you with a new doctor today, Kirk.” The asshole of a doctor speaking made the implied quotation marks around Jim’s name quite clear with his tone. “One of our most qualified staff. He has a reputation for competence and efficiency and- well. I’ll let you find out for yourself.” He grinned, although Jim was not inclined to trust his opinion. If he hated this new doctor, then Jim would probably adore him.
In fact- holy shit. The man himself had just entered the room and Jim was actually looking forward to getting on this new doctor.
Getting on with the new doctor.
He was outrageously hot. And while he looked Jim over with the liveliest impatience, he did the same to Doctor Asshole, who probably had a real name Jim had no intention of remembering.
“Thank you, Doctor Ksaras, I can take it from here.”
Oh and that voice. Deep and dark and with the same blandly Standard accent as the rest of the staff -where had they learned that, anyway, if they weren’t in the Federation?- but with an edge to it that Jim wanted to roll around in.
“I was actually hoping to stay and observe your methods, Doctor-”
“You’ve spent the last three cycles antagonising my patient. Your presence will make my work unproductive, hence there will be nothing to observe. You are as welcome to view the resulting footage as anybody else.”
The words were technically polite but laden with meaning. Asshole Doctor stalked out. New, Gorgeous Doctor rolled his eyes expressively.
“My name is Doctor Leonard McCoy. I specialize in psychology, brain injuries and trauma. To put it bluntly, if I can’t fix you, nobody can.”
“What if I don’t need fixing?” Jim bristled at his words and tone, gorgeous or not.
Dark eyes scrutinised him intently. “Then I guess that makes me the broken one.” Doctor McCoy said with a sort of wry amusement, flipping through an actual paper file as he did. For all the planets failings, apparently they had plenty of trees. Jim might have known that, had he been allowed to go outside. “You would not be the first person to suggest that, lemme tell you.”
There was something there, something so close to an accent that Jim just stared for a moment, trying to parse what he’d been told. “Who said that to you?”
“Ex-wife. Dragged me to this- town, then dumped me here first chance she got. Haven’t got up the courage to leave since. Stand up. I need to examine you.”
“I’ve been examined.”
“Not by me. Stand up. There are some abnormalities on your scans that I want to clarify.”
“Abnormalities?” Still somewhat reluctantly, Jim stood, slipped out of his hospital gown with almost convincing preening. He had been allowed to keep his Starfleet-issued underwear but the tight, black boxer briefs left very little to the imagination.
Puri had never said anything about any abnormalities. Then again, his briefest of touches, just to guide Jim to turn and bend his limbs, had never felt like they were scalding his skin, either. Maybe this new doctor was just different.
“You have an unfeasible number of badly-healed bone fractures. You said that where you’re from, they can be healed safely and quickly?”
“Yeah, but- I, uhh- was- oh, fuck it. I was twelve when a disease struck the food crops of a plant I was living on. I was malnourished and- beaten, when I stole food. Mostly they just healed on their own.”
Doctor McCoy had been watching Jim when he began to speak, and had since turned back to his chart but Jim could have sworn there was a flash of horrified recognition in his eyes for the briefest moment before it faded back into professional composure.
“And- wait, I never said-“
“I’ve read your file.”
“Yeah, but-“
“I’ve read. Your file. It’s very extensive. Apparently you’re not much of one to shut up and listen, Jim.”
There was a fragile hope blooming in Jim’s chest. And something else, too. He allowed himself to be hooked up to some monitoring equipment, including some sort of doodad that clipped on the end of his finger.
McCoy frowned at the monitor that seemed to be displaying Jim’s various vital statistics. “Your heart rate’s a little high. Any idea why?”
“Uhh, have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Why, is there something on my face?”
“No, but- I’d like to be.”
Okay, it wasn’t Jim’s best line, but at least it left no room for doubt, especially when coupled with a lick of Jim’s lips and a well-practiced leer.
“You really are brain damaged.”
“You gonna fix me, Doctor?”
“You’ve changed your tune. Put your gown back on. I’m ordering some scans of your head. And- your eyes. I notice you haven’t touched any of your reading material.”
Jim case an unimpressed eye over the books on his nightstand, all minor variations of the same religious book. “Not really my genre.”
“I have a copy of the annotated version. I’ll lend it to you. It’s a little less- dry, than the unabridged one. I suggest you read it.”
Those darkly intense eyes were back on Jim’s and it was all he could do to nod. Something was happening and he didn’t understand exactly what it was, but he knew a pointed pen tap when he saw it. He recalled the doctor’s first words, too. There was a camera in the room, and a microphone too, judging by their conversation so far.
What the hell was going on?
Jim pored over McCoy’s version of The Teachings Of Naxlar -whoever the fuck that was- with single-minded intent. Not for the words themselves; those were straight garbage. But for the letters that had been subtly marked in the text. He couldn’t write them down, of course, and they weren’t easy to spot, so while he appeared to be studying closely, he was actually compiling sentences.
“They deny the future to protect their corrupt leaders. I can get you out. Play along. Read the damn book or you will get us both killed."
With every subtle dot on a page, every unnecessary curse word that made him hold back a smile, Jim fell more in love.
He was still poked and prodded, but it was with purpose. Slowly, he pretended to be coming around to The Teachings of Naxlar and McCoy’s medical expertise.
“You said you had a wife,” Jim said one day, when they were sat opposite one another. McCoy had been discussing the virtues of therapy, of having someone to talk to, so it wasn’t a completely artless segue, but his eyes immediately met Jim’s and a visceral horror was visible deep within them.
“I did. How do you feel about marriage, Jim?”
“I think that-“ Jim thought back to the Teachings, to the best way to paraphrase his feelings, to confess to what had been developing over the previous few weeks between the two of them during their daily sessions, their hours spent together. “It’s an excellent way to devote yourself to one person. To show them that- you’re serious and committed to what you have. They they’re- the only one you feel that way about. It can go wrong of course, and sometimes people have been burned before, in previous relationships, but as long as both parties are equally invested, and they understand each other and want to be together, then their feelings can just- run away with you. I’ve never felt like that before, but for the first time I feel like I might.”
“Well-“ McCoy took a deep, shaky breath, the only tell that gave away anything more than a professional detachment. “That sounds like a much healthier attitude than the one you came here with. But there’s still a lot of work to do.”
Jim wasn’t stupid. He got the message. Maybe he wanted to get away from his worst nightmare of a place, but it wasn’t that simple for McCoy. That was- if he even felt the same way. Jim thought he did, had seen his gaze linger a little too long, felt unnecessary touches, heard the subtle hints dropped whenever they could risk it.
He hoped that McCoy’s heart raced whenever he saw him, that the physical closeness between them sometimes drove him to distraction, that he fell asleep to thoughts of heated kisses, of Jim being allowed to touch back.
“Do you- agree, though?” He risked asking. McCoy’s expression softened. It was Jim who was facing the camera so he did his best not to look too lovestruck.
“Yeah, Jim. I do. You’re doing well. Making progress. I think soon we’ll be able to progress to the next level of your treatment. Just- to recap. Do you still recall your delusions? I’d like to check your memory. What did you say your Starfleet ID number was?”
Jim had to feign hesitance before stammering it out, even though he could practically have reeled it off in his sleep.
“And you understand now how you were able to fabricate a universe so detailed just through the power of your mind?”
“I do, Doctor.” Jim didn’t want to labour the point too much, but- “Thank you. For- being patient with me.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Jim. I’m always happy to see the fruits of my labour. You’ll read your teachings again tonight? I’ll see you tomorrow for our scheduled session.”
Jim nodded.
A hour before their scheduled appointment, the butterflies just beginning to take flight in Jim’s stomach, all the power went out, the entire building illuminated only by green-tinged emergency lights. At first, he didn’t move. Had he missed some sort of message from McCoy? Should he have had a plan? Was he supposed to meet him somewhere?
His door opened before he could move and a man in a medical uniform slipped into the room, out of breath, flushed and panicking. It wasn’t McCoy.
“What’s going on?” Jim asked, making an effort to sound far more anxious than he actually was. A medical emergency was nothing compared to some of the stuff he had lived through, but -oh, fuck, it was Doctor Asshole- nobody believed that was true and it was hardly the time to convince them.
“Nothing to be concerned about, Kirk. There was a power surge but all essential services are up and running. Should be back online in a few minutes, when the generator in the basement kicks in.”
That was not a long time. What if it really was just a coincidence? Should he risk breaking out? What if he messed everything up? What if-
“Jim!”
There was a shout from the hallway. Asshole Doctor turned into the punch Jim landed on his jaw, sending him collapsing to the floor, unconscious. God, he’d wanted to do that for so long.
Jim stepped over him and into the hallway to shout, “Scotty!”
“Oh, thank God!” Scotty had been rounding the corner of the hallway but ran back, enveloping Jim in a tight hug that was gracefully received. Jim suddenly realised he hadn’t been touched in anything except a plausibly clinical sense in close to two months. He had missed it.
But Scotty was not hanging around. He had a briefcase, big and metal and bulky, in his hand and he opened it to assemble the components of what Jim realised was the portable transporter he had been working on.
“Enterprise is at warp. Only way to avoid detection. Only way to get back is to beam up in the next-“ Scotty checked his comm- “eight and a half minutes. Before the planetary defences go back up. They’re actually ingenious, hide the planet from all but the most detailed scans. If we hadn’t received that coded-“
“Scotty! Stop. How many people can you beam with that thing?”
“At a time? Two. I’d need an external power source to run it more than once but Jim, there’s no time.”
“There’s a backup generator in the basement. Can you hook it up to the transporter?”
“Uhh, can a bear shit in the woods? But we don’t have that sort of time-“
“Eight minutes. I’ll met you there.”
“This is not a drill, Jim, we could be stuck here!”
“If I’m not there in time, you go. But I will be! And I won’t be alone. So get ready!”
“I’ve had two months without this nonsense! Doing things with more than moments left to go! Surviving by more than the skin of my teeth. My life has been stress-free! Seven minutes, Jim, then I leave you here!”
Wow, his voice really carried. Jim was already three hallways away, searching frantically for the man he couldn’t stand to leave. He had to find out whether McCoy would come with him. Had to know whether he really had been deluded all that time.
There were very few people around. As Jim ran, scanning corridors and rooms for any trace of McCoy, he saw nobody. Maybe they were all assembled somewhere. Knowing his luck, he’d stumble across them.
He was running out of time. Fuck. He had been aware of signs to the basement throughout his exploration but only when he felt genuine terror did he begin to follow them. He took the stairs two at a time, and had never been more glad to hear raised voices when he crashed through a fire door.
“Stay back, y’hear, I’m not afraid to use this! You’re part of this backwards society that doesn’t believe in space travel, so what’s the harm in letting me finish, anyway?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, damnit, I’m not gonna stop you. Who do you think sent that coded message? I just want to know where Jim is!”
“Here! I’m here!” Jim hurtled around the corner and, without any consideration or hesitation, flung himself into McCoy’s arms to clutch him tight.
“Jim! I thought they’d got you!”
“Holy shit, are you Southern?”
“Born an’ raised.”
“That’s so hot.”
“Oh my God.”
“Come with me.”
“I- oh, Jim, I can’t.”
“You- what?” Jim could have sworn that moment broke his heart. He could feel it snapping in two then crumbling into dust inside his chest. “Why not?” He managed, with a crack in his voice. He noticed Scotty kneeling beside his transporter and checking some readings, very studiously not listening.
“There’s a reason I moved here. I’m not- I’m no good in space, Jim. Just the thought makes me break out in a cold sweat and struggle to breathe. That’s why we moved here, back then. Why I never left. I can’t- not a shuttle, not a transporter, not any of it.”
Jim’s relief was almost as sudden and overwhelming as his disappointment had been. “But- you want to, right? Be with me?”
“Oh, darlin’-” McCoy began, and Jim’s knees went weak at those words, in that voice, from that man- “I want to. Just- anything else, Jim, ask anything of me but that.”
“I can’t.” Oh, there Jim’s heart went again at the crestfallen expression on McCoy’s face. Jim was sure his own wasn’t much better. “Space is- it’s everything to me.” He took McCoy’s hand in his as he hastily corrected, then, though. “Almost everything. But- I knew this doctor once who told me therapy can cure anything- as long as the patient wants to be cured.”
“Oh, you asshole.”
Scotty piped up then, too, “You’ll get used to that. Less than a minute, Captain.”
“Please.” Jim risked raising McCoy’s hand to his lips and kissing his fingers, “I want you with me. And my Chief Medical Officer is kind of a dick-“
“Hey, Puri’s alright.” Scotty objected.
“Shut up, Scotty.” Both Jim and McCoy said at once.
“You’ll have a job. A gorgeous boyfriend. I’m a catch, you know. Youngest Captain in the ‘fleet. Strange new worlds. Exciting new diseases for you to cure. The newest technology. Lives to save.”
“Thirty seconds, Captain.”
McCoy stared at Jim for a few moments. Then, slowly and stiffly, he nodded.
“Energize.” Jim didn’t miss Scotty rolling his eyes, didn’t care because he was kissing McCoy, and he was warm and soft but solid and strong, his arms coming up to haul Jim close as the tingle of the transporter washed over them. The kiss was tight and desperate, Jim’s heart soaring after being denied so long, McCoy’s grip tightening until it was painful and oh, right, yeah, transporter phobia. He was lucky to have snatched the few moments he did before the anxiety fully set in.
He released McCoy as they felt the solid floor of the transporter pad beneath their feet, just in time for McCoy to duck to the edge of the pad and vomit copiously.
“Sorry, Bones, gotta clear the pad.” Jim gently but firmly hauled him out the way so Scotty would find his way clear, careful not to step in the puddle with his bare- feet- shit, he was still wearing a hospital gown, needed to find some more clothes as soon as possible. Bones first, though. “You alright?”
“The fuck did you just call me?” Bones choked out. Jim loved him so much, pressed his forehead to the sweat-damp hair at the back of Bones’ neck and smiled, broad and honest, where nobody would see.
“Well I’m not calling you Leonard. And that was why you first came to see me, right? ‘Cause of my bones?”
Vaguely, Jim was aware of Scotty making it back, sighing at his vomit-spattered boots and asking, “Does he need a doctor?”
“Damnit, man, I am a doctor!”