Repost: The BAstard (OS, K/S, G)

[Arachnethe2]

Title: The Bastard

Author: Arachnethe2 <Arach...@darmstadt.netsurf.de>

Series: TOS Code: G Pairing: K/S, K/f

Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount Pictures,
this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, made for no profit.

Summary: The things might take an unexpected outcome, when Bones
intervenes into the game.



The Bastard

Written by Arachnethe2...
... for
Hafital

"I can be a real bastard, but with Jim, sometimes that's
the only way to be his friend."

"Homecoming", written by Jungle Kitty



Ok, I'm a bastard.

I don't want to deny it. Why should I? My whole life
has proven to me that it's often the only way to keep my nerves
intact and my head clear. Yes, you could say that a timely
bottle of Saurian Brandy does it too. And you'd be right. But
sometimes a bottle isn't enough.

And right now, that's the way it is.

Oh yeah. Good stuff. The colour's the best I've seen
in years. It burns its way down into my stomach until I see the
whole world cross-eyed, and this feeling lifts me up to the
highest level of heaven. Almost as high as god the almighty.

Only, the stuff isn't working this time. Although this
is the last bottle of my most secret supplies. Secret because
of Joanna's disapproval and because *this* I share only with my
*very best* friends. Only now I've lost both my best friends.

Because I'm a bastard.

So I'm drinking alone.

It's not good!

But since I haven't been sober for the last two weeks,
it doesn't matter right now about psychological reasons and
medical consequences of being soaked with alcohol until it pours
down from my nose whenever my head droops a bit too far forward.

Joanna, forget your dad's health! All of you, forget
your pitiful bothering about! Because no one cares about an old
idiot like me.

Because I'm a bastard. An old, stupid, philanthropic
and drunk bastard.

This doesn't surprise you? Yeah! Me neither.

As I stated previously, life gave me the choice of
becoming one or else forgetting it. A doctor has to be a
bastard, understand? Because people in my profession have to
deal with injuries, death, diseases, blood, dirt and equal
pleasantries every day. And yet they need something that will
let them believe that life - their own life - still has value in
the living, other than as a pause between two surgeries. And
when one is the physician of his two best friends, who are
simultaneously the two most worst patients and the two biggest
idiots in the whole Fleet, but you still love them like your own
flesh and blood, then you haven't any other choice but to either
go mad, or become a bastard.

And once you've become one, there's no other choice but
to live like one, to think like one and to act like one.

But after everything I've done, after two weeks being
permanently drunk, I'm still convinced that after everything
I've ever seen in my sickbay, I would do it again.

It was all laid in front for me during the five year
mission. I witnessed the uneasy beginning, their awkward tries
at getting closer and then their friendship, which developed
into something that at the very end went far beyond any
friendship. You know what I mean by that. And no, I'm neither
senile, nor hopelessly romantic, nor blond. Although one would
think that I, by virtue of being the very close friend of these
two fools, might have a privileged position, might get a closer
look and some inside information. But I assure you that I
would've been just as well informed even if I'd been the
lowliest swabbie scrubbing the dirtiest Jeffries Tube.

Because the whole ship knew!

And simultaneously this was the best kept secret onboard
the Enterprise: that the captain and the commander were in love
with each other and that they were keeping it hidden from the
whole world. And from *each other* too. But you couldn't look
at them without seeing it. Impossible! Even a blind man
could've felt the sparks between the two of them. And we, the
remaining 428 crew members, had to do something, anything, to
let them keep believing that no one knew, when in reality even
the rats living in the crawlspace nearest the outer hull knew.

It was the biggest conspiracy, I think, that any crew
ever played against their command team. Even the original
mutiny on HMS Bounty couldn't outdo this one. And I, as the
closest friend of both of them, was the head of it. Of course I
had my willing helpers in this whole thing: Giotto, Nyota,
Scotty, Tanzer... Even Christine Chapel played along! Although
convincing her cost me my whole ration of chocolate, dammit.
But I got it back by ordering a special diet for ... guess who.
Geez! A man's got to receive just compensation for his efforts,
by God. So in the end the whole net functioned perfectly: every
newbie on board was taken aside when he or she started to get a
clue. And if this particular he or she wasn't willing to
co-operate, then there might be remarks about a possible
assignment as the toilet cleaner on a Klingon cruiser. And
when, as in a few cases, *that* didn't work, then there were
some re-assignments indeed! Not to any Klingon cruiser, no --
but cleaning toilets and similar activities were still included.
How was it that Jim didn't get the idea that it might be
because of him and Spock? Well, we had developed our methods
almost to perfection, we gave him reasons to believe. And
mostly they were true. Mostly. Because a lie is never hidden
better than when she is close to the truth.

But I swear, in all other things we all were faithful to
our commanders beyond our deaths.

Why did I do it that whole time? Yes, that's a damn
good question! Why did we, and I particularly, do all this?

Well, look at them and you'll know it without any
farther explanation!

Or better yet, don't, and let me explain it instead.
Because behind all those actions of ours, there was a selfish
need hidden. And, well, at last we hoped, that sooner or later
they would cross the line indeed. Until then...

Until then we tried to get from the whole situation the
best for both sides: for us and for them. We were living in
space, understand? And the ship was the first essential part
for our survival. And the second one was the balance of the
command team, because their tactics, their decisions, the way
the chemistry between them worked, had saved our lives so many
times. No wonder that we didn't want them to get separated.
Nor did any of us want to stand aside and do nothing. We
weren't stupid; we recognised that they both belonged together,
with a rightness that was beyond any description. And we
couldn't help being affected by this. Long before we knew
anything about the Vulcan mental link and the wordless
communication, every ensign on board was convinced that Captain
Kirk and Mr. Spock were exchanging their thoughts. Many times I
saw them losing themselves in each other's gaze and in those
moments I felt left out. A very lonely and almost painful
sensation, if you ask me. But what is, is. Things work this
way and I can't make them different.

But what made their completeness perfect was that as
much as they differed, so much too they shared in common. Like
for example the fear of baring their souls. Fear of
acknowledging that they had already stepped beyond the limits of
their friendship. Fear of facing this truth even though every
one around them already had.

But I knew, too, the reasons for their behaviour: for
Spock, it was his obsession about being the absolute perfect
Supervulcan. And when Vulcans simply don't, then Supervulcans
must not.

For Jim, it was his obsession about being the captain,
with all the job entails: responsibility for the crew, and the
loneliness of the commander. Because the being at the centre of
the ship has to be a model of proper behaviour and discipline.
And if this means loneliness, then so be it.

It sounds Vulcan, doesn't it? Oh yeah! But I told you
that they both had very much in common. And besides fearing the
truth, there was another thing that they used to shield
themselves from each other: their friendship. Or to say it more
precisely: the worship of the cult of their friendship. All
these postures of theirs were nothing more than one big
demonstration of and insistence on a deep belief, thus: we are
good friends and this I will never put into jeopardy by
following my egoistic demands.

In a pig's eye!

We could read them like a book, but we never ever could
bring it up to let them know that we all knew...

And in between all this there were the Klingons, the
Romulans, the Organians, spatial anomalies, first contacts,
mysterious encounters, dangerous situations, delicate diplomatic
missions, time travel, Jim's love affairs and Spock's pon farr.

No, one really couldn't get bored, not with both of them
in one universe.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when at the end of
the five years' mission the inseparable friends parted, when Jim
was promoted to admiral and Spock quit Starfleet for Gol. But I
was. Because in one little corner of my mind I kept this
hopeless belief that all this dancing around the hot truth was
just because they both wore the weight of the responsibility for
bringing us home safe. And while they were in space was not the
time for working out such things. So we believed, figuring that
when they finally got to Earth, surely they would do something
about it.

But they didn't. They split up, instead.

I was angry. I stalked into Jim's new office, where I
had the worst dialogue in my whole life. Or better say
monologue, because it was me who did all the yelling, while Jim
was the one calmly sitting behind his desk.

But it didn't help. All my outbursts didn't work.
Although I bet I was heard even in Sausalito, on the other side
of the Bay. But as I said, it didn't work. Spock was on his
way to Vulcan, and Jim had retreated far behind his admiral's
mask.

No, it wasn't fear of jeopardising their command
ability, as I had thought for so long. It was their
stubbornness that led them to screw up their lives. A silly,
infantile, illogical (ah Leonard, now you're really drunk)
stubbornness.

I left. The 'admiral', Starfleet, the whole role of
being the anchor for the idiotic Supervulcan, and the
just-as-imbecilic human who was ready to get into bed with
everyone who was willing, only to feel himself thereafter dull
and empty and alone. But it was right for him, so. He had the
chance to get into his bed the only right person for him in this
whole damn universe, and he let it go to waste for reasons one
would expect of an idealistic teenager, not from the captain of
the Federation's flagship. But perhaps the captains of the
Federation flagships are teenees in their souls? Who knows. In
the end it came down to: officially, they were both adults and I
didn't want to play the 'anchor' for them both for ever.

The next three years of my life were relaxing. I lived
as a country doctor. Sometimes it got a bit boring, but it was
relaxing. Still, you can guess that I never did stop thinking
about them. Although Jim, roasting in his own anguish, never
contacted me, and logically, the Gol priests weren't practising
any interplanetary correspondence.

So I was surprised when suddenly I got a priority one
message from Nogura to report in to HQ. And after a few hours I
sat in a shuttle which was bringing me back to the Enterprise.
Back to my sickbay. Back to Jim.

And at last, back to Spock.

How I had missed them during all those years.

The mission was in no way easy. V'ger - this name will
haunt the nightmares of humanity for a long time.

But still, in the middle of all this mess I witnessed it
again: the deep look that made them alone in the crowded
sickbay, their hands squeezing fiercely, words that made my
stomach clench and the old hopeless hope come alive again:
finally, finally. It was about damn time, you fools!

But no, Bones! Wrong. How could you, naive idiot,
forget that old habits die hard...

The mission was over, the mystery behind V'ger revealed
and solved. The Enterprise returned to Earth in all her old
glory, the reports were made, the medals were given, the press
was full of us.

And then in the middle of this all I got this message
and reading it I couldn't believe my eyes:

Jim announced that he was going to marry vice-admiral
Ciani. His old flame.

Wonderful!

I contacted Jim immediately and asked him if he was
serious. He assured me that he was.

And happy? Again I got this nod. Well, how else!

And then Nogura interfered and proposed to make the
wedding ceremony a Starfleet spectacle, with all the admiralty
present there. Jim agreed to this theatre and I knew that after
all these years I had to do something.

The whole time on the Enterprise I had seriously
supported silliness, all in the name of protecting them. Now
after all these years, please, let me do something foolish - the
only right thing in this moment.

I had never been so determined before.

I thought that Jim would understand something when very
gently, in my best diplomatic manner, I refused to be his
witness. But no worry, he still had Spock and the Vulcan
agreed, happily stiff from being presented with such an honour.

Me, I withdrew during all those preparations. Excusing
myself permanently through my job. Yet in reality I was
preparing myself for my task.

I wasn't drunk in those days. The opposite of it. For
the next few weeks I didn't touch alcohol. Since The Big Day I
have depleted my cellar. But only since then.

On the Day I stuffed myself into my parade uniform,
taking special care with my shoes, my hair and the medals on my
jacket. Since I was to to play the Nemesis, then at the very
least I should look dignified and properly immaculate.

The hall where the ceremony was to be conducted was
hopelessly crowded. The press had camped outside for three days
already. All the admiralty was present there, the Enterprise
crew, Jim's family, Ciani's family, then the rest of high
society, which took it as the mark of prestige to be let in.
Looking into one corner I saw Sarek standing there, together
with his diplomatic staff. Seeing him there, my heart almost
sank into my trousers, but now it was too late for backing up.

I felt the gazes of my old friends being thrown into my
direction. Slowly they started to get a clue why I wasn't
standing there with Jim and Spock, awaiting the bride's entrance.

But I couldn't. Because I disagreed with this travesty.
Because I knew too well that nothing could prevent the truth I
have seen. Not even a pompous marriage, which would end in
divorce rather sooner than later. And at last, southern
gentleman or not, I came here to protect a woman who was
unknowingly ready to mess up her life because of two stubborn
cowards.

Lori came, all beautiful in her white dress. Good
looking, possessing high intellect and representative behaviour;
all in all the top choice for an admiral's wife. Slowly she
reached Jim, who took her hand, and then together they faced the
justice of the peace.

The short speech began: ladies and gentlemen, we all
came here together to... And so on.

She spoke about the tradition, the family, the future.
And all people were carefully listening to all those well-meant
words. There was a deep, worshipful silence in the hall. But
although her speech lasted only for a few minutes, it seemed to
me that hours had passed since she began. Until this sentence
came, which for I had waited the whole time:

"..and if someone objects against this marriage, then
shall they step out and speak now, or remain silent for ever."

And into this deep and worshipful silence I stood slowly
up and in a distant voice said:

"Your honour..."

Everyone froze at first, then the heads slowly, one by one,
turned in my direction. I remember clearly Lori's perplexed face and
Jim's shocked look.

"...I object."

The silence in the hall deepened. Lori let go of Jim's
hand, looking frequently at me and then at Jim. Spock stood
there beside them both like a statue, his shields held tightly
in place.

"And what's the reason for your objection, Doctor
McCoy?" The justice of peace asked, obviously knowing my name.
Even better.

"Your honour," I straightened my back and stepped out of
the row, "since the dawn of our traditions, there's a well known
condition which is sacred for most of the marriage ceremonies:
that they shall be entered with clean heart and mind. But this
condition today is not fulfilled on the part of the man. James
Kirk might agree to marry this woman with his mind. But not
with his heart. For his heart was already given to someone
else, a long time ago."

"Is it true?" It was Lori who found her voice first.

Not one word came from Jim. He simply stood there,
unable to say anything.

"Jim," she stepped closer to him, shaking him slightly,
"is it true?" She repeated her question in a desperate tone.

I felt more than sorry for her at this moment. I almost
hated myself. And if she wants to damn me for the rest of my
life, it will be her right to do it, for no woman in the world
will ever forgive you when you mess up her wedding day.

Finally Jim came alive from his stupor. He took a deep
breath and closed his eyes for a moment, before he looked at
Lori. And now I knew that he would tell it, because even though
Jim might be capable of almost anything, he would never lie to a
woman in a moment like this.

"Yes... It is true..." James Kirk - always the
gentleman and hero, even in moments of facing his worst wrath.

The single, sharp slap came in the next second. Those
clear imprints of fingers on his cheek, caught by a snapshot of
the press, will fill the pages for the next months.

She ran out of the hall, leaving chaos behind the
slammed door.

For the first time my eyes and Jim's met. And I was
sure as hell that in that moment he really hated me.

I'm a doctor. And this title is given to me for one
single task: to heal. But only a few outside of my profession
know that healing often means causing pain.

With this fiasco, the pompous ceremony was definitely
over. And myself I didn't stay much longer. Almost immediately
I left San Francisco, staying aside only long enough so that it
wouldn't be necessary to move through the canals to maintain my
safety.

I fled back to Georgia. But the picture of Jim followed
me even there.

I met him only once, very shortly afterwards, in a small
room near the hall where the unhappy ceremony (your deal Bones)
would have been completed. It was my own stupid idea to try to
talk to him. Wrong idea.

He sat there in a chair, his posture as silent if he was
on the bridge in the middle of the worst crisis. And Spock was
hovering above him, wearing his most
disgusted-but-I-am-hiding-it look.

I will never forget the icy tone of Jim's voice, which
gave me the deadly feeling that our friendship was over:

"Never, ever, try to cross my way again."

And at this my own nerves turned to mush, suddenly
seeing all this in a different light.

What had I done...

I hurt my best friend, badly. I interfered in things
that weren't my concern. I didn't know exactly why Jim decided
to marry Lori. I wasn't there with them both all the time. Did
Spock change so much, through Gol? Did Jim really find someone
else in those last few years?

Suddenly I wasn't so sure about my previous theories.
But one thing at last was clear: It was over. With the
friendship, with the Enterprise, with Bones.

No one will ever call me Bones again.

Leonard, you poor bastard, only your bottles remained to
accompany you in the lonely night hours of the last two weeks.
And even they are slowly running out.

I sat in my chair, looking stupidly at the last one,
making a note to myself to renew my supplies as soon as
possible, when the comm in my terminal chimed. Praying that
this wouldn't be anything serious, I hit the button.

A face appeared on the screen, giving me the ultimate
proof that right now I'm really drunk beyond any limits.

"Hi," Jim smiled a pale, shy smile.

But no, it was him! Really! And yes, I was drunk...
But it was him. I found myself checking him over, out of the
bad habits of a doctor: he wore nothing, he probably just woke
up. His hair was tousled, his lips swollen. He had some
red-blue marks on his throat and some imprints on his arms. As
if a pair of strong hands had grabbed him too tightly...

And then it hammered into my fogged brain. I was
looking at him with my wide open eyes, with my jaw dropping
almost onto the keyboard.

Jim smiled again, this mooning smile, and then he
shifted a little aside, revealing some more of the bedroom
behind his back. A sleeping Vulcan was lying there on his
stomach, his one arm falling down from the mattress in a relaxed
posture, showing unconsciously that part of his body which the
nurses in my sickbay called the most logically appealing
posterior.

Still wordless in my disbelief, I looked at Jim again.

"Yes," he nodded, blushing shyly, "thank you, Bones."

And suddenly, there was a strange sound. And it came
from me:

I was crying like a baby.

They did it, oh my god! After all those years and one
messed ceremony, finally, they did it! I wanted to hug Jim.
And the Vulcan. To hug them both, tightly and never let them go
again!

"Sssshhh... Bones?"

"Yeah?" I had to wipe my nose with my sleeve.

"We want to tell you so much. Would you come?"

My only wish in the whole universe... Wordlessly I
nodded.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes..."

"Then, tomorrow... Good night Bones..."

"Good night Jim."

The connection ended. And I opened this last bottle.
Now I got another good reason for getting drunk as hell.

Oh gaudies! Whaw!

Leonard, you lucky bastard!

End.
------------------------------------------------------

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ASCEM messages are copied to a mailing list. Most recent messages
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[gildaevf]

--- In ASCEML@y..., "Arachnethe2" <Arachnethe2@d...> wrote:
>
> Title: The Bastard
>

> Author: Arachnethe2 <Arachnethe2@d...>

>
> Series: TOS Code: G Pairing: K/S, K/f
>

I enjoyed this so much the first time you posted it, it was a real pleasure to read it again. I like your McCoy, a
helpful friend, but not the all-knowing doctor. The ending is great, my favorite part. I love the quiet way Kirk lets
McCoy know without having to say a word. Thanks, Ara.

Gilda

[dunyazad9]

I loved this when it was first posted, and if anything I enjoyed it
even more this time around. The vivid writing, the richness and depth
of characterization, the intensity of the drama - are stunning and
all the more remarkable since most of the story is presented through
the reminiscences of a single character. I love these characters, the
way they wear the heavy burden of command, their selflessness. Not
just great K/S, but great Trek!

Judith

[cimorene111]

--- In ASCEML@y..., "Arachnethe2" <Arachnethe2@d...> wrote:
>

> Title: The Bastard
>
> Author: Arachnethe2 <Arachnethe2@d...>

>
> Series: TOS Code: G Pairing: K/S, K/f
>
>

Ara, I love your short stories--the uncanny rightness of all the
points of view you take on, the clarity of a few lovely images, the
drama and angst and poignancy. You have an excellent sense of story
that makes everything in the story happen at just the right time.
This was exquisite. Thank you.

cim

[rae trail]

Yippee! I love this story. McCoy is Sooooooo pathetic, and so right, all the way through. And then the sweet picture of Jim calling him with a naked Spock unaware in the background. It's a wonderful way of explaining the whole Gol thing, and you did it extremely well.

Thank you, and Best Regards,

Rae

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

[Selek]

A great story, Ara!! Glad to have you back again. I loved the way you
wrote McCoy. You had his character nailed throughout the entire story!!

Selek
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