Chapter Text
April
Carol woke with a start, heart pounding in her chest, unable to catch her breath–
She was falling out the front viewscreen of the Vengeance, plummeting to Earth below her, Khan leering at her from the safety of the ship—and then she’d looked to her left and realized that Khan had pushed her father’s headless corpse out of the ship to follow her to the planet’s surface. Horrifying enough, but when she looked to her right, Captain Kirk’s lifeless body was falling right along with her, too.
And then, Kirk’s closed eyes snapped open–-red, they were so red, not the bright blue she’d gotten glimpses of–-and his mouth gaped open and closed–-and she heard him, she heard his voice, his accusing words–-
--You did this-–You killed me–-You killed us all, Marcus–-You’re a murderer just like your father-–
--she forced herself to sit up in bed. “Shit,” she gasped. She tried to regulate her breathing, tried the technique her counselor, Lieutenant Clinton, had suggested for grounding herself in the midst of a panic attack–-in, two, three, four–-hold, two, three, four–-out, two, three, four-–but it didn’t help. She couldn’t shake the nightmare, nor the overwhelming sensation of guilt that, even though things hadn’t really happened as in her dream, she had been a contributing factor in both her father and Jim Kirk’s deaths.
–-in, two, three, four–-hold, two, three, four–-out, two, three, four-–
Not that she would tell Clinton that. The man claimed to be one of the best counselors in the fleet, but to Carol, he came across as condescending and patronizing. She'd shared very superficial things with him, but hadn't felt comfortable getting into the real issues behind her panic attacks and depression. His demeanor didn't invite genuine confidences.
–-in, two, three, four–-hold, two, three, four–-out, two, three, four-–goddamn it--
The man’s only, stubborn suggestion that deep breathing would ease the choking fear of her panic attacks was not helping at all; so, she forced herself to think of something else—to think of something not connected at all to Admiral Marcus, Captain Kirk, Khan Noonien Bloody Singh, or space—and landed on the spider in the corner of her living room.
The alien arachnid was huge, as spiders went, and a lovely shade of dusky bluish-brown, with long, spindly legs. A web spinner, it had crafted a beautiful, irridescent web in the corner of her living room, near the floorboards. Every time she passed that particular corner, she checked to make sure the spider was still there. And every time she checked, it was. It moved around the web from time to time, but otherwise didn’t seem to go far.
It wasn’t venomous to humans, and it wasn’t considered an invasive species, and since it apparently didn’t mind her presence, she let it be. She had taken to calling it Peter Parker, not rightly caring that some people would find it odd that she had named the spider in her apartment like a pet. It was nice having a roommate, someone to talk to. Lord knew, Peter Parker was a better listener than Lieutenant Georg Clinton.
Maybe she should ask around about a different counselor. Except that would require her to ask someone, and there were very few people in San Francisco that she was comfortable talking to.
Her breaths were coming easier, now. She sighed heavily and let her posture slump as she buried her face in her hands, the image of Kirk’s body still pressing against the back of her eyelids.
--You did this-–You killed me–-You killed us all, Marcus–-You’re a murderer just like your father-–
She choked out a broken sob, then swallowed hard. In life, Kirk had, by all accounts, been such a dynamic man; she’d seen firsthand that he was kind, showing compassion to her, a virtual stranger who’d boarded his ship under extremely suspicious circumstances–seeing him in death, laid out in sickbay, had been a shock that her already overwhelmed system hadn’t needed.
--You did this-–You killed me–-You killed us all, Marcus–-You’re a murderer just like your father-–
She would never forget the heartbroken, lost expression on Leonard McCoy’s face as he had unzipped the body bag and come face to face with the irradiated corpse of his best friend.
--You did this-–You killed me–-You killed us all, Marcus–-You’re a murderer just like your father-–
She heard tell that Spock’s wrath at Khan was a fearsome sight to behold. She couldn’t imagine what those two men, let alone the rest of Kirk’s crew, would have done if he had been truly lost to them. Thank God he was recovering. McCoy was a miracle worker.
--You did this-–You killed me–-You killed us all, Marcus–-You’re a murderer just like your father-–
She looked up at the ceiling of her room and forced back the sensation that the walls were closing in on her.
She glanced at her window, and then at her clock. The dusky blue light of pre-sunrise light was glowing around her blinds. The clock read 0550; certainly not too early to be up and about—and she needed to be about. She had to get out of that apartment.
Five minutes later, her short hair hastily pulled into the barest of ponytails, a sweater and sneakers over her pajamas, she was bidding Peter good-bye and rushing out of her apartment. Down the stairs—the exertion made her feel slightly more grounded, even if it did jar her recently healed femur—and out the main lobby of the Starfleet housing building, then taking off down the street in the direction of a small park near the waterfront.
Signs of the Vengeance’s utter destruction still stood everywhere she looked. It had been almost four months, and there were still piles of charred building materials on almost every corner. The air still smelled like burning alloy. Small, temporary monuments to the thousands of people left dead in the attack had been erected all over the city, until the permanent memorial could be finished sometime in August.
None of these sights—though so familiar to her by now—were helping her sense of panic, and she pushed on as fast as she could without outright running, tears welling in her eyes.
She panted as she approached the gates to the park, the sun just barely beginning to poke up over the horizon, a sob building in her throat. The memorials had about undone her; that her father had been an instrument of such destruction absolutely tore at her. Her father, the man who had raised her, had set into motion a chain of events that had killed thousands of innocent people.
Maybe she should legally, officially, change her surname to Wallace. She hadn’t been lying to her father when she punched him in the face, growled that she was ashamed to be his daughter…the last words she would ever say to him, as it turned out.
I meant it, she thought angrily as she tripped down the path that would take her to a smaller lake. The area would be deserted at this time of day. She’d come here often in the past four months, trying like hell to soothe her raw, wounded soul.
Birds chirped overhead as she veered off the path and onto the spongy ground, then stumbled over a loose rock and fell to her knees, her mind too swamped with images of her father and Jim Kirk and the Vengeance and Khan’s wild, crazed eyes to catch herself on the nearby bench—she simply let herself collapse, burying her face in her hands once more and sobbing, ignoring the pain that shot up her thigh as she landed hard on her knees.
And I knew, I knew he was up to something and I did nothing—all those deaths could have been prevented, I should have gone to Admiral Barnett, why didn’t I go to Admiral Barnett—those deaths are partly on me—Kirk’s death is partly on me—the grief that McCoy and Spock suffered, that the whole crew suffered—how can I ever face anyone—need to get away, need to leave, start over somewhere new—need anonymity—I don’t deserve to stay—
“Doctor Marcus?”
Her head whipped up at the concerned voice behind her. Of all the luck in the damn universe—what were the chances of running into anyone, let alone someone who knew her? She swiped haltingly at her nose with shaking hands, her movements awkward and uncoordinated. “Are you hurt?” the voice continued.
Nyota Uhura managed to look like a supermodel, even at 0630, and dressed in running gear to boot. Her brow furrowed in concern as she left the jogging path and crossed the spongy, grassy ground to crouch next to Carol.
“Lieutenant Uhura.” Carol inhaled deeply and tried to get ahold of herself. “No, I’m not hurt, thank you very much. I’m—I’m fine, really.”
Uhura rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and Pavel is the Tsar of all of Russia,” she quipped, slipping a hand under Carol’s arm and helping her stand. Uhura directed her to the bench and guided her to sit down. When she was satisfied that Carol wasn’t going to fall off the bench, she sat too. They sat in silence together for a moment, Uhura casting glances in Carol’s direction, before Uhura spoke. “It’s alright, you know.”
“What is?”
“This. Grieving, crying.”
“Blaming?” Carol added bitterly. Uhura shot her a confused look.
“Blaming? What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything,” Carol whispered. She liked Uhura just fine, but they weren’t bosom friends by any stretch of the imagination. Certainly not at the level of confidences that would let Carol vent her current thoughts and feelings.
Uhura was one of the ones whose wrath she feared most. Uhura had suffered doubly—as if Kirk’s death hadn’t been enough to witness, for goodness’ sake, she’d also had to watch her boyfriend almost murder someone in cold blood. Not that anyone would have bemoaned Khan’s death, but…to see the stoic, unemotional Commander Spock in such a rage? Carol couldn’t begin to imagine how Uhura was dealing with that.
She remembered the way Uhura had trembled, once she and Spock had deposited Khan in McCoy’s sickbay; McCoy had taken Spock for medical care, and Uhura had nearly collapsed to her knees as her adrenaline crashed and her grief caught up with her. Carol had been glad to offer her support, then. She’d felt worthy of offering the woman support, because the ramifications of her father’s actions hadn’t fully caught up with her yet.
That Uhura and Spock and McCoy had suffered in the first place was all because Carol hadn’t had enough sense to go to Barnett when she’d had a chance. She closed her eyes and looked away.
“Doctor Marcus—Carol. Who are you blaming? Your father?” Uhura’s hand was gentle on Carol’s forearm. Carol sighed.
“Partly.”
“I don’t understand. Who else could you possibly be blaming? Khan?”
“No one—it’s nothing, honestly, Lieutenant.” She could feel Uhura’s eyes watching her every move, and was dismayed to feel a single tear track down her cheek. No doubt Uhura saw it.
“Call me Nyota,” Uhura replied a long moment later. “We’re not on duty right now, and I hardly feel like we can become better friends if we’re calling each other by titles all the time.”
Carol’s head snapped up. “You want to be friends with me?” Carol hated how wary she sounded, but she could hardly believe it. Uhura shrugged.
“I’ve wanted a girlfriend to talk to for the past four months,” Uhura replied honestly. “It’s hard, sometimes, being friends with the boys. Pavel is the closest thing to a girlfriend that I have right now, and I love him to death, but honestly? He’s a much better wingman than he is a girlfriend.” That got a wet giggle from Carol, imagining the earnest young ensign sipping fruity drinks with Uhura while they got pedicures together. Uhura smiled slightly and shrugged. “I thought about contacting you, but…well, nobody has seen you around and so I figured you didn’t want to be seen.”
“I can’t believe…you want to be my friend, even after everything that happened?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Uhura looked genuinely confused. “Doctor Marcus, after everything we went through together, after everything we all suffered together—of course I want to be friends. Because of everything that happened. United we stand, you know?”
“Even though it was partly my fault?” Carol blurted out.
“What? How the hell do you figure that?”
“I…,” she trailed off. Could she talk about this? Clinton had been trying to get her to talk for months, but it had never felt like the right time to talk about this horrible guilt that she had been carrying for so long. Did the time feel right now?
She inhaled deeply and decided that—maybe, yes—she did want to share it. She simply couldn’t keep it to herself anymore and remain sane, and besides, she was already planning to cut and run as soon as she could. What did it matter if Nyota blamed her, too? “I—I knew my father was hiding something, that he was up to something…when he cut off my security clearance, I should have gone to Admiral Barnett, but I didn’t—I snuck my way onto the Enterprise instead, I didn’t say anything to anyone who might have done something. If I had, then…,”
“If you had, and your father had been innocent of any wrongdoing, you would have irrevocably damaged your relationship with him,” Nyota pointed out. “Just because he cut your security clearance, didn’t mean that he was necessarily up to something. For all you knew, he was simply paring down on personnel. After all, did you know about Khan?”
“I knew Harrison was working for him.”
“And did you know that Harrison was Khan? That he was capable of all this?” Nyota gestured to the destruction in the city behind them. “That he was a dangerous relic from Earth’s distant past?”
“Well, no, but—,”
“Carol, I think you’re taking a bit too much on your own shoulders,” Nyota pressed on firmly. “Your father’s actions were his, and his alone. You can’t shoulder the blame for him.”
“There are people who think I should. Sins of the father, and all that.”
“Those people are wrong,” Nyota replied adamantly, almost angrily. She shook her head and looked out over the lake, the newly rising sun casting it in shades of gold and pink.
“I’d imagine that Captain Kirk and Mister Spock think I should,” Carol said quietly. Nyota sat forward with a start.
“What? What do you mean? Has one of them actually said that to you?” Nyota’s face filled with indignant anger.
“No, neither has said it to me, but I also haven’t exactly given either one the chance,” Carol admitted. “Self-imposed exile, you know.”
Nyota looked at her appraisingly for a moment before glancing down at her wrist chrono. “You know, I don’t feel much like going for a run anymore. Let’s go get breakfast,” she suggested.
Carol bit her lip. She’d been avoiding crowds for such a long time–she’d been avoiding the censure she was sure she’d see in the face of everyone she passed. She’d been avoiding the people who would blame her for her father’s actions, who would turn her into a scapegoat, a target for their overwhelming grief–because she knew that she’d let them. She would let them berate and belittle and attack her because in her heart of hearts, she knew that she deserved every ounce of judgment and hatred thrown her way. But she wasn’t brave enough to face it on her own, so she’d gone into hiding as best she could. Coward.
Her stomach growled at her, though, as though reminding her that breakfast was a thing she’d once enjoyed. “Are you sure you want to be seen in public with me?” Carol whispered, her eyes trained on the lake in front of her as a couple of ducks swam placidly by. Uhura put a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m the daughter of the man who nearly destroyed San Francisco, and nearly brought war with the Klingons to the Federation. People aren’t happy with me.”
“Fuck that.”
Carol’s eyes snapped over to Uhura, whose jaw was stubbornly set. “What?” The ugly language sounded even more vulgar coming from such a lovely woman.
“I said what I said,” Uhura replied firmly. “I try not to curse much, but seriously--in this case? Fuck that. People are grieving, yeah, and that's to be expected--but they need to grieve without taking it out on you. You are not your father, and you aren’t responsible for what he did. And yes, I am absolutely sure I want to be seen in public with you, because everything I’ve ever seen of you tells me you’re a nice, decent person who would make a really great friend." Nyota stood decisively. "So come on, Marcus. Let’s go get breakfast.”
A tendril of warmth flowered in Carol’s chest. Nyota seemed to be in earnest, seemed to genuinely want to be her friend. Carol gulped and smiled as best she could. “Breakfast sounds lovely, Nyota. But please, call me Carol.”
Nyota grinned and nodded. “You got it. Come on, there’s a great diner nearby and I’ve got a sudden craving for strawberry pancakes.”
/*\
Breakfast was a relaxed affair, and they didn’t broach the subject of Alexander Marcus or Khan at all; they simply chatted about what they had each been up to since the Enterprise had been grounded. Carol couldn’t claim much; hiding in her apartment had become extremely dull, and the brass had placed her on administrative leave while they investigated exactly how deep her knowledge of her father’s activities had been, so she didn’t even have remote work to keep herself busy.
Nyota had been working on the Enterprise, which was in drydock in Iowa, and spending time with Kirk at the hospital, and traveling a bit; she’d been down to Mojave, and up to Vancouver, and to Japan a time or two with Lieutenant Sulu and his husband. The men were in the process of adopting a baby girl and were presently a couple of months from bringing her home, and they'd tapped Nyota, as honorary auntie, to act as translator; Nyota was extremely excited about the prospect of being Auntie 'Yota.
Apparently, she had also really taken Ensign Chekov with her to get her nails done—and he’d charmed every single being in the salon. Nyota couldn't tell the story without rolling her eyes fondly. Commander Scott was back on the Enterprise with a skeleton crew, obsessively reinforcing the warp core.
Commander Spock was dividing his time between Nyota, overseeing the Enterprise’s refit and Commander Scott’s upgrades to the warp core, and being with Kirk in the hospital. Doctor McCoy was practically sleeping at Starfleet General, even though Kirk was doing so well that he was likely going to discharge him in another month’s time. Not bad for having been dead at one point, Carol reflected.
It was amazing, how much better she felt for simply having a meal with another human being. The ever-present tightness in her neck and shoulders was noticeably diminished, as she and Nyota surveyed their empty plates.
“You should go see him,” Nyota said casually, sipping her coffee as she speared one last scrap of pancake with her fork and mopped up the last few drops of syrup on her plate. Carol leaned back into the booth, her stomach uncomfortably full for a change. “He spends a lot of time with doctors and therapists. He could probably do with seeing more of his friends.”
“Who, Doctor McCoy?”
“No,” Nyota shook her head. “You should go see Jim. By all means, say hi to Leonard, too, but Jim could really use the emotional support right now.” She grimaced and narrowed her eyes at Carol. “And if you tell him I said that, I’ll reprogram the computer in your quarters to only respond to requests made in Klingon,” she added, setting the coffee mug down.
Carol was shaking her head before she could even really process what Nyota had suggested. “Oh, no, I don’t think he’ll want to see me,” she admitted honestly. Her nightmare from the previous night came roaring back and she exhaled heavily. She shook her head more adamantly. “No, I can’t—I don’t want to upset him, or…or set back his recovery.”
You did this–You killed me–You killed us all, Marcus–You’re a murderer just like your father–
“You won’t. Trust me. Jim Kirk is a people person, a classic extrovert. It drives Leonard nuts, but Jim needs different people to talk to. He’s climbing up the walls at this point.” She rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. “Figuratively speaking, of course, though it won’t be long before I mean it literally, too.”
“But…,”
“But, what?”
“What if he really does blame me?” she asked quietly. “For my--for Admiral Marcus, and–and Khan, and…,” Carol trailed off. And dying? she added in her head, unable to give voice to it. Nyota regarded her seriously for a moment, then set her mug down and leaned in. The sober look on her face was one of compassion and understanding. She offered Carol a small smile.
“Listen, sugar. I know you don’t know Jim well, and I know he has a reputation for being a…less than stellar human being. But please, don’t let that reputation keep you from seeking him out. He is honestly a good person, and this is coming from someone who would have cheerfully kicked him in the testicles in the Academy.” Her smile widened. “He’s a genuinely good person, who is a good judge of character, and even though he can hold a grudge like nobody’s business…he’s never been one to hold a grudge unjustly. If he was, there’s no way he and I would be able to be friends right now.”
“What about justly holding a grudge, though?”
Nyota shook her head and sighed. “Tell you what. I’ll be seeing him later today. Would you like me to see if he’d welcome a visit from you?”
“But…what if he says no?” Carol realized how contradictory she sounded, and she had to bite back a laugh as Nyota facepalmed a few times in frustration.
“Carol, you’re killing me. I think a visit from you would do both of you a world of good. But do you want to go see him or not?”
Carol thought for a moment. The last she’d seen of Jim Kirk, alive, she’d been suspended between him and Commander Scott, hurriedly limping down the corridors to sickbay. The trauma of losing her father, physically and emotionally, and the pain that was surely slipping to shock from her broken femur, made the whole episode fuzzy in her mind; her clearest memory from that whole ordeal had been meeting his eyes as he and Scott handed her off to Nyota in sickbay.
He had held her gaze for a moment more than he could have probably spared—the world had been going to hell around them and he was the one in charge of fixing all of it, but he’d held her gaze nonetheless, determined to make sure she was okay before he and Scott leapt back into the fray. His eyes had been so blue–not red, like in her nightmare that morning–and she realized that she hadn’t seen them since that last moment together in sickbay. Her resolve weakened.
“I…I wouldn’t mind saying hi, but not if he doesn’t genuinely welcome it. If he even seems slightly hesitant, I don’t want to upset him,” Carol replied reluctantly. “I never got to thank him for not pressing charges about sneaking onboard.”
To her surprise, Nyota snorted a laugh. “Ha! That little punk has no room to talk.” Carol couldn’t help the giggle that came out, both at Nyota’s indelicate snort of laughter and her calling her captain a punk. It was clear from her fond tone, that whatever grudges they'd held against each other in the past, she and Kirk now shared a thriving friendship. “Let me tell you how he wound up on the Enterprise in the first place. It all started…”
/*\
Jim fidgeted.
Elenora was both keen enough to notice the unusual behavior, and wise enough to not mention it. Jim was nervous about something; he kept glancing at the door to his room as the two of them chatted away, Elenora fussing over his blankets as they spoke.
“…and I’m sure Leonard and Horatio will be back soon, dear. Has Madeline been by to see you yet?”
Jim shifted his eyes back to her. “Yeah, she stops by every now and then when she gets off her shift. Her hours vary, and not even Bones can get her in after visiting hours.” He smiled faintly. “She’ll come down here and sneak me something sweet during her lunch break, too, sometimes. Don’t tell Bones.”
Elenora smiled, too. Trust Madeline to flaunt her big brother’s restrictions for Jim’s benefit, she thought. “I’m glad, sweetheart. You need your family around you, you know. One can’t heal from trauma in a vacuum.” Elenora leaned forward and kissed his head. “I’m glad to hear that your friends have been stopping by so regularly, too. From what Leonard tells me, they sound like a formidable group. Especially your Mister Spock--according to Leonard, he is certainly…capable.”
Jim laughed. “Capable, yeah. More capable than I am, even before all of this,” he added, gesturing to the room around him. “He’s an invaluable officer and an amazing friend. I hope you get to spend time with all of them all before you go,” he added. Elenora smiled down at him. She and Horatio were only in town for a few days, just long enough for Elenora to reassure herself that Jim was really, truly alive and on the mend. She and Horatio both had to get back to work.
“I hope so, too, dear.” She shook her head to herself as Jim’s eyes darted back to the door, fingers tapping against his lap. “Forgive me, darlin’, but are you alright? You look like you’re waitin’ for that door to break into a song and dance.”
“Oh, I…no, sorry, Nora. I’m expecting a visitor, that’s all.” Jim glanced at the chrono on the wall. “I guess it’s still early, she’s not due for another ten minutes, but…I don’t know. I thought she might be early.” He shrugged self-consciously.
“I see,” Elenora replied evenly, reaching out to smooth the collar of his shirt. He was the only one of her children that let her fuss over his clothes, and his navy-blue button down was far nicer than the t-shirt she’d expected to see him in. She had a feeling that this expected female visitor was the reason for the shirt; she struggled to keep her smile in. The blue of his shirt brought out his eyes, and the rich color added a bit of warmth to his gray complexion. “And just who are you expecting?”
“Doctor Carol Marcus,” Jim replied promptly. “A crew member,” he added. “A recent addition. She saved Bones’ life.”
“Did she, now? Well, I think I like her already.” Elenora narrowed her eyes at Jim. “And do I want to know just what the hell my son was doin’, that he needed rescuin’ from?”
JIm winced. “Er…no. Probably not,” he admitted. “And certainly not anything his boneheaded captain had ordered him to do.”
“Certainly not,” Elenora repeated, shooting Jim a stern look. He bit his lip and shrugged apologetically. Elenora shook her head. Over and done with, water under the bridge, you know there’s times when they have to be officers and not brothers, she thought. She kissed the top of his head fondly. “You boys,” she sighed. “Tell me more about this Doctor Marcus, then, while we wait for her to arrive.”
“Oh, uh…well, she faked her way on board,” he admitted. Elenora couldn’t miss the slight upturn of the corners of his mouth.
“Sounds like she’s exactly the kind of crew member you deserve, then, isn’t she?” Elenora replied archly. Jim really did smile at that as he shrugged sheepishly. “So, she snuck on board and then saved my son’s life.” Elenora grinned. “I think I really like this woman. Can I meet her?”
“Oh, uh—well, sure, I guess, I mean—I don’t really know her that well, but I can introduce you, yeah—,” he stumbled over his words, another sign that he was nervous. Elenora hadn’t expected him to be nervous over a woman. It was endearing.
“Jim, darlin’,” Elenora began, perching on the side of his bed. “I’ve never pictured you as one to get anxious over talking with a woman. What are you nervous about?” He opened his mouth indignantly. “We both know you are, don’t try to deny it,” she added. He grimaced and closed his mouth.
“I…I’m not sure,” he admitted.
“Marcus, you say? She’s not related to that Admiral Marcus, is she?”
“Actually, he was her father,” Jim admitted with a sigh.
Elenora bit her lip; she had opinions about the man, and none of them were favorable. “Ah. I see.”
“But no—that’s not the reason. She’s nothing like him, I swear,” he added quickly. “I promise, Nora. Please, don’t judge her because of him…from what my comms chief tells me, it sounds like she’s gone through enough of that as it is,” he added bitterly. Elenora sighed. Jim would know all about being held up to a dead parent’s actions, even if George Kirk’s last acts had been the complete opposite of Alexander Marcus’s. He glanced at her warily and she offered him a reassuring smile.
“If you like her, darlin’, then I’m sure she’s just lovely,” Elenora replied. Jim’s shoulders relaxed a fraction as he nodded.
“She tried to keep him from killing us all,” he explained. “It killed her, what he did–I just…,” Jim sighed and glanced at the door again. “I just think that…I’m sure she’s…look, Nora, she went through some shit, just as much as we did—more than, really. I mean, her father was murdered, she saw the whole thing—and I just don’t know how to help her.”
“Maybe she doesn’t need your help, dear.”
JIm shook his head. “I’m her captain. That’s my job.”
“Oh, Jim, darlin’. You did your part as her captain when you went into that warp core reactor.” She reached over and grazed his cheek with the back of her fingers fondly. She couldn’t believe Leonard had brought Jim back to them; her son was a miracle worker. “Maybe she just needs you to be her friend,” she added gently. “Maybe this Doctor Marcus, maybe she just needs to talk—and maybe you do, too, darlin’. To someone new.”
Maybe Jim needed a fresh perspective. Maybe he needed someone else to focus on; Elenora couldn’t help but notice how quiet Jim was, now, and how withdrawn. How different he was from the vibrant young man she’d met a few years ago. He seemed so lost in his own head now, and she could understand it; it wasn’t every day a young man died a painful, drawn-out death, only to be brought back by his best friends.
Jim looked down at his lap as he thought about what she said. “Maybe I’m worried that she blames me for her father’s death,” he admitted quietly a moment later.
“Are you to blame?” She had to ask, even though she knew the answer.
“No,” Jim replied decisively. “No, he is. And Khan is. But you and I both know that sometimes we need someone…”
“Someone, present, to blame?” Elenora supplied quietly. Jim nodded. “I see. Well, you can’t know what she thinks or feels until you talk to her, right?” Jim nodded. “You want me to stay while y'all talk?"
Jim shook his head. “No, that’s okay. If she needs…if she needs someone to blame…I can be that person for her,” he said resolutely. He straightened his shoulders and made a visible effort to still his thin fingers on the blanket as he sighed. “Thanks, though, Nora.”
This boy. She shook her head. Even now, suffering as he was…he was still trying to be what everyone around him needed him to be. “Of course, dear.” She pressed a maternal kiss to his thin cheek. She sat back; the hand she reached out to squeeze was bony, and his once-healthy complexion was now wan and pale. He didn’t look or sound wholly like the Jim she had known, but he was still the Jim she loved like a son.
“Oh!”
A soft voice broke the quiet behind them. Elenora turned and met the wide, startled eyes of a petite young woman, framed in the doorway. Her pale blonde hair was tied back in a haphazard ponytail at the nape of her neck, thin strands falling out around her neck. She was wearing an overlarge green utility jacket that seemed to swallow her. Her face was pale and she looked just as anxious as Jim. Just as fragile. “I’m so sorry,” the young woman continued. “I–I didn’t realize you had company, sir. I’ll—um, I’ll just…” she grimaced awkwardly and turned as though to leave.
“No, wait—Doctor Marcus, please, it’s fine. Please, come in,” Jim called hurriedly, sitting up in the bed as Elenora stood. Jim had been so anxiously awaiting this young woman’s arrival that Elenora was prepared to chase her down the hall and drag her back to the room if need be.
“Yes, dear, please. Come on in,” Elenora echoed, stepping towards the doorway. “I’m on my way out, your timin’ is impeccable,” she added with a warm smile. Doctor Marcus hesitated for a moment before limping warily into the room. “Jim, darlin’, you said you’d introduce me,” she reminded him. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Doctor Marcus as she approached, but he blinked and nodded.
“Right. Um, Elenora, this is Doctor Carol Marcus, Enterprise’s new weapons specialist. Doctor Marcus, this is Elenora McCoy. Bones’ mom, and surrogate mother extraordinaire,” Jim added. Elenora beamed at Jim, then turned to meet Doctor Marcus’s eyes. Marcus was studying her nervously.
“Oh, um, it’s–it’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” she said hesitantly, if a bit faintly, holding out a trembling hand to shake Elenora's. Jim was right--too many people have judged this child in her father’s stead, Elenora realized. And she is terrified that you’re going to be another one.
So prove her wrong. Elenora let a wide smile cross her face as she met Marcus’s anxious eyes. “Oh, no…none of that, dear,” she replied, stepping past the trembling hand. “You saved my little boy’s life, after all,” she added, pulling the young woman into a tight hug.
If there was anyone in this hospital who looked like she needed a mother’s embrace, Doctor Carol Marcus was it. The girl stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact.
“You’re safe here with us, darlin’,” Elenora whispered in her ear. Marcus went very still. A moment later, she nodded jerkily against Elenora’s shoulder; Elenora felt her arms reach hesitantly around her back, then squeeze. Elenora grinned and squeezed back tightly before stepping away, keeping a light hand on each of the girl’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry for invading your personal space, dear. My daughter has tried to get me to stop doing that to people, but I just can’t seem to help myself.”
“Oh, it’s—it’s quite all right, Mrs. McCoy.”
“You’re sweet, dear. And can I say, even though I’ve not been made aware of the circumstances,” she added, throwing Jim a narrow look, “that I’m eternally grateful to you for saving Leonard’s life?”
“Oh. Please, it was nothing, ma’am. Nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done,” Marcus added uncomfortably.
“But nobody else would have done it with your finesse, Doctor Marcus,” Jim piped up from the bed with a small smile. Elenora saw a flush spread up Marcus’s neck. Elenora glanced at Jim, surprised to hear him gently teasing her, and decided that it was time for her to duck out gracefully and leave the two to talk.
“Well, it was lovely to meet you, Doctor Marcus. Take care of yourself, dear,” she said, squeezing Marcus’s shoulders and stepping back. She turned to Jim. “And you, Captain, you stay out of trouble, now,” she admonished, leaning over to kiss the top of his head.
“I will if Bones has anything to say about it, Nora. Thanks for coming to see me.”
“As if we wouldn’t have come, sweetheart. You comm us if you need anything, you hear?”
“I hear,” Jim replied with the first real smile she’d seen since she arrived. She nodded back with a smile of her own.
“Then we’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.” She kissed his head one more time and hugged him tightly. “Doctor Marcus, I hope I get to see you again before my husband and I return to Georgia.”
“I’d like that, Mrs. McCoy,” Marcus replied. Elenora smiled at her and walked out of Jim’s room.
Once in the hall, she checked her chrono. Leonard and Horatio weren’t due back for another twenty minutes. Perhaps she could go visit Madeline while she waited? Her daughter’s office was only seven floors up, and Elenora smiled as she thought about telling Maddie all about Jim and his new weapons specialist.
/*\
Carol watched Elenora McCoy sidle out of the room, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She’d known the woman for all of five minutes, and yet she had shown Carol more genuine affection than anyone had since her own mother passed away. Between breakfast with Nyota that morning, and Mrs. McCoy’s warm embrace, Carol realized that the rough, raw feeling inside her wasn’t as rough or raw as it had been since her father’s—and Kirk’s—deaths. She shook her head slowly, trying to make sense of it.
“She is the ultimate mother hen,” Kirk commented fondly as the door slid shut behind Mrs. McCoy. “It’s where Bones gets it from.” Carol nodded absently. “You look a bit gobsmacked, Doctor,” he added. Carol started and turned to face Kirk.
“Oh–I…well, I suppose I am,” she admitted. “I certainly wasn’t expecting…well.” She swallowed before she could tell Kirk that she hadn’t been expecting hugs and affection out of this particular visit.
“Yeah, I know. She has that effect on people,” Kirk replied. “It’s like a sixth sense. She can sense when someone needs a hug, and I have to say, nobody hugs quite like her.” He smiled, and it caused an ache of loneliness in her chest to see it. “I think Bones and his sister have grown immune to her, but…,” he trailed off and glanced at Carol. “But I have to say, getting to see Elenora McCoy is one of the best things about being planetside.”
Carol would have once trusted her no-bullshit-o-meter’s approval of Elenora McCoy. But after realizing just how thoroughly her own father had played her, she didn’t trust her own judgment; she did, however, trust Kirk’s. She nodded in agreement. “I can understand how you’d come to that conclusion, sir,” she replied slowly. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her.
Blue eyes, not red–-not full of hate and condemnation–-breathe, girl, everything is going fine so far–-
“Please, um–have a seat, Doctor Marcus,” he added, gesturing to the chairs at his bedside. “I’m afraid I have to stay put, but…,”
“Oh, um…thank you, sir.” She moved to sit in the chair most in his line of sight. “Um…you’re looking well, sir,” she commented, then bit her lip. “Not that—I mean, after—well, since the last time I saw you,” she clarified. He smiled wanly.
“Given that I’m well aware of what I look like now, hopefully I was dead the last time you saw me,” he quipped dryly.
You did this–-You killed me-–You killed us all, Marcus–-You’re a murderer just like your father-–
She winced and drew back from him, and she could feel an embarrassed flush rise in her cheeks. His eyes widened and his gray cheeks took on a pinkish tinge. “Shit–I’m sorry. Too soon for the gallows humor–I’m so sorry, Doctor, I didn’t mean to…I mean, if I was dead the last time you saw me, then I’ll take that as a compliment,” he rushed to add.
She nodded and bit her lip. An awkward silence settled heavily between them, and she couldn’t think of anything to say to break it. Thank you for not pressing charges? Thank you for saving my life? I’m sorry my father tried to kill us all? I’m sorry I didn’t do something about him when I had a chance? I’m sorry I was part of the reason you died? She bit her lip harder and looked down at her lap. The silence thickened between them, until she couldn’t take it anymore. He’s been sick, Marcus. Ask about his health. You know, polite conversation?
He hasn’t been sick, he’s been dead, and it’s your fault, she retorted to herself. She swallowed back the urge to scream in frustration at herself. She was so tired of her mental back-and-forth. She was exhausted. Just say something.
“So, um, how are you doing?” she blurted out, looking back up at him. He was watching her carefully, almost as though he were concerned that she was going to break. Just what had Nyota told him this morning about her state of mind?
“Better, I guess,” he replied with a shrug. “I started physical therapy a month ago, so that helps, you know. It’s nice being able to walk myself to the bathroom.”
“Quite,” she agreed.
“How are you?” he asked, adjusting himself so he was facing her more fully. “I mean, after everything…your father, and…you know. Everything.” He grimaced and shrugged, as if realizing that he’d strayed into potentially awkward territory. She sighed.
“I…not so well, I suppose. Nyota found me in quite a state this morning,” she admitted. “But I’ll be fine, I’m-–I’m going to counseling, and Nyota and I have a standing breakfast date once a week now, and…yeah.” And I’m going to change my name and get the hell out of Dodge, she mentally added. But that’s neither here nor there.
“Good. I’m, ah…listen, I’m sorry,” he said. “About your father,” he added, his voice going very quiet.
Carol winced and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry about my father.” She let out a sardonic little laugh. Maybe she was more bitter than she’d realized. “I’m sorry he used you and your crew like a pawn in his plan to draw the Klingons into a premature war. I’m sorry he tried to kill you all. I’m sorry he resuscitated Khan, that he did what he did to those poor people—Khan’s crew—,”
The words just spilled out of her-–it was as though once she’d started finally saying it all out loud, she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry I didn’t go to Admiral Barnett when my father revoked my security clearance, I’m sorry I lied to you about my identity—,” she added, swallowing hard. She paused to take a breath and look away as tears welled up in her eyes. Not again. You will not cry again today, Marcus, she told herself sternly. “I just—I’m sorry, Captain,” she managed thickly. “So, so, desperately sorry. About-–about it all.”
Kirk’s eyes were the size of tea saucers as he watched her closely for another moment, as though he were waiting to make sure she was finished. She couldn’t make herself keep his gaze, so she turned her eyes back to her lap. A tear dripped down her cheek and onto her pants before she could stop it or wipe it away.
“Wow. That was…that was quite an apology, Doctor Marcus,” he commented. She nodded. “Although I have to say, I think you forgot to apologize for the fact that space exists in a vacuum and that the replicators on board make awful coffee,” he added.
She lifted her head and met his eyes. He offered her a small smile and held out a box of tissues. She took one and wiped her eyes. What the hell is he on about? “I’m sorry, Captain, but I’m not sure I take your meaning,” she replied uncertainly.
“Well, I thought you were just randomly apologizing for things that weren’t your fault. Like, at all. Well, except for the lying to get on board thing, but I’m really in no position to throw stones in that case,” he added with a sheepish shrug. She barked a laugh.
“Yes, I heard. Nyota told me some stories this morning,” Carol admitted. “You and Doctor McCoy have been through thick and thin, haven’t you?” The wistful smile that stretched across Kirk’s face soothed even more of the raw feeling in her chest. It was the first genuine smile he had offered her since she arrived.
“Yeah, we really have. At the Academy and on board the Enterprise,” he agreed. Carol leaned forward, suddenly in no mood to think about her father or Khan anymore, or of her empty apartment or her nightmares or the scathing condemnation she saw on the faces of almost everyone she passed on the street.
So she smiled tentatively up at him. “Would you–-would you mind telling me a story or two, sir?” she asked hesitantly. “Something the two of you got into at the Academy?”
Kirk’s wistful smile grew as he looked over her shoulder, thinking hard for a long moment before laughing to himself. “Sure–-okay. This is a good one. Just don’t tell Bones I told you about it, okay? And definitely don’t tell his mom, or else I’ll be in so much trouble. She’ll ground me for a year.”
Carol barked a laugh. “Blackmail material, sir? Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked. He chuckled.
“I trust you, Doctor Marcus,” he replied.
A genuine smile stretched across her cheeks, and Lord, it felt foreign. She mimed zipping her lips shut, locked an imaginary lock at the corner of her mouth with an imaginary key, then tossed the imaginary key over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.
Kirk grinned approvingly. “Awesome, because it’s a really good story. Okay, so once, in our second year at the Academy, Bones was working and…,”
/*\
Carol woke up the next morning feeling rested for the first time in four months.
As sunlight streamed through her still-open living room windows, and the din of the city waking up for the day drifted up from the street, she thought back on the previous day. What had started with a panic attack in the park had ended with a sense of renewed purpose and determination as she set her apartment to rights; when she’d arrived home from visiting the captain yesterday evening, she had taken a good, hard look around her apartment and realized it was dusty, and smelled stale. So she’d spent the rest of the evening dusting and scrubbing and cleaning, the windows wide open for the first time since she had taken up residence. The only place she didn’t dust was Peter Parker’s corner. It probably wasn’t healthy, how attached she’d grown to the spider.
Upon finishing her cleaning, she’d then realized that she had two cups of yogurt and a string cheese in her stasis unit, and then quickly decided that she was sick of living off replicated food. It had been late enough at that point, that the store down the street had been empty enough for Carol to feel relatively anonymous as she shopped. When she’d arrived home, she’d made herself a simple fry-up and then collapsed on the couch with the holovision on.
She felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude to Nyota. If Nyota hadn’t found her in the park, then she wouldn’t have gone on to the hospital to visit the captain. If she hadn’t gone to the hospital to visit the captain, she wouldn’t have met Elenora McCoy; she wouldn’t have gotten to hear Jim—after visiting him yesterday, she found herself calling him that in her head—say that he didn’t blame her for anything, and that he would gladly straighten out anyone who had the nerve to say otherwise. “And the McCoys will help. You think Bones is intimidating? You’ve never seen his mother’s feathers ruffled,” he’d commented. “Elenora will fight anyone tooth and nail if she thinks someone she’s taken a liking to is being messed around. She’s terrifying.”
Carol didn’t have family left. Her mother had passed on years before and her father…well. She had no aunts or uncles, no grandparents left, no siblings. She was very much alone in the world. The idea that Elenora McCoy would stand up for her was incredibly comforting, even if Jim had just been saying it to make her feel better.
The idea that Jim considered her a crew member still, worthy of his protection and support, healed a crack in her heart that she hadn’t even realized was there.
“Peter,” she whispered in the direction of the spider’s web, “yesterday was the first good day in a very long stretch of bad ones. I owe quite a few people a very big hug and possibly, very large coffees.”
So she rose for the day with a stretch, a sigh, and a determination to do something kind for these people in turn.
/*\
“Doctor McCoy, here.”
“Doctor McCoy?” The clipped accent on the other end of the comm was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it as he made notes in Jim’s file. He paused, his finger hovering over his PADD. “It’s Carol Marcus. I’m so sorry to bother you this early, but I’m wondering if you can help me with something?”
“Is everything okay?” he asked. Jim had told him he thought she was having a rough time of it. She didn’t sound like she was hurt, but…he let the PADD fall to his side. “Do you need medical assistance?”
“Oh! No, no…no, I’m fine. I’m so sorry. No, I…I don’t know if the captain told you, but I stopped by for a visit yesterday and…well, he was terribly kind, and I actually got to meet your mother, and she was just lovely, and…well, I was hoping to do something for them, just to say thank you for their kindness. Is Captain Kirk allowed coffee? And does your mother drink it? Is she going to be at the hospital today?”
“Oh–-um, yeah—Jim is allowed caffeine, in moderation. A simple black coffee would probably do wonders for his disposition, actually. My momma drinks it, too. And she and my pa should be here at some point today.” He could only imagine how his mother had treated Marcus, especially if she was having as rough a time as Jim seemed to think. “I can comm you when they arrive, if you want.”
“Oh, that would be perfect. Thank you so much, Doctor McCoy, you’ve no idea how much I appreciate it. And what kind of coffee do you and your father drink? I’d hate for them to have some without you.”
“We all just drink regular black coffee, but don’t go to any trouble, Doctor Marcus,” he protested. He could almost hear a smile in her voice.
“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. It’s a very, very, very small way of showing my gratitude to you and the captain and your mother. Thanks again, doctor.”
“You’re welcome, Doctor Marcus.” He disconnected with a small smile and shook his head.
/*\
Jim watched Doctor Marcus duck out of his room, her face beet red but with a pleased smile plastered across it nonetheless. The cup of coffee in his hand smelled heavenly and he realized just how much he had missed real coffee. Carol Marcus had just become his favorite person in the world.
Elenora was clutching her own coffee. She turned to face Jim, her hazel eyes dancing. Horatio was already sipping his coffee contentedly. “Jim, darlin’, I do believe that I’m gonna need you to marry that girl,” she commented lightly. Horatio nearly spat out his sip of coffee and coughed, before wiping his coffee off his chin with a chuckle. Jim snorted as his cheeks flushed.
“I’ll take that under advisement, Nora,” he replied dryly. Elenora beamed and Horatio smirked into his coffee, and all Jim could do was take another long sip of his hot drink to try to hide how pink his cheeks were turning.
/*\/*\