Fic extract
Aug. 2nd, 2010 07:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fadagaskiIf he stays real quiet about it, maybe they won't remember. That's the theory, despite all evidence to the contrary over the past twenty years. He can always hope that this year, of all years, it'll slip Jim's mind.
Oh, who is he kidding? Jim Kirk hasn't missed Leonard's birthday in all the time they've known each other - coming up on twenty-three years now (and God that makes him feel old). There isn't a snowflake's chance in Hell that Jim'll miss the big five-oh.
Leonard sighs, returning his attention to the PADD on his desk, to the Starfleet communique open on screen. A petition, he liked to think with a healthy dose of scorn, to keep him in the thick of things. Sly, flattering sentences jumped out at him, like "It would be of great benefit to future Medical Officers if you were to share your expertise at the Academy." Leonard had always been wary of admirers.
It had surprised him initially to receive such a message. Hadn't realised Starfleet were keeping such a close eye on him. Hadn't realised someone there knew him so well. Fifty years old, twenty years of service, three tours of duty in deep space. Retirement hovers within his grasp. He's done enough, he thinks. He's at least done his share to earn the respite.
Then the thought, blissful and serene, snags on the perpetual thorn in his side. What about Jim?
As if summoned, that very same Captain appears in Sickbay's orbit. Leonard clears the PADD.
"Bones!" Kirk says, smirk twitching his lips. "Your shift ended forty minutes ago. Are you getting forgetful in your old age?"
Well, there went that brief dream of a peaceful - read: non-existent - birthday. Leonard rolls his eyes even as he pushes away from the desk.
"I've always been old, kid. You, on the other hand, have never grown up." Which isn't exactly true, though Leonard does envy Jim the golden hair he still sports even after all these years.
Jim laughs. "True enough. Come on, Grandpa. Let's go get dinner."
"I'm not a Grandpa yet," Leonard growls. "Don't tempt fate." Even the thought of his baby girl - okay, 26 year old baby girl - involved in the kind of things that result in babies gives him hives. They wave goodbye to Doctor T'ror as the doors slide shut behind them.
All through dinner, though he snarks at Jim in lieu of actual conversation, his mind chews over the message from Starfleet, dissecting it like a biology lab experiment. "Many research opportunities exist that could benefit from your experiences," it had said. He can just imagine.
"Finish up, Bones. Senior Staff meeting in 15 minutes," Kirk says.
"That doesn't mean you can steal my dessert," Leonard snaps, stabbing at Jim's hand with his spork.
"Ouch! Okay, sorry. Geez." But Jim is laughing. Leonard glowers at him, snatching up his dessert.
"You should know better than to come between a man and his key lime pie." Too bad the portions could be finished in three bites. Used to be, Leonard knew how to savour food. Being friends with Jim had put paid to that notion.
Jim shoos Leonard out of the mess and accompanies him to the Captain's ready room, just off the bridge. The rest of the senior staff have already convened, and are waiting expectantly for the Captain. Jim nods at them all as he takes his seat.
"Okay, listen up," he says without preamble. "At 0500 ship' time we will arrive at Trisidian IV. Our mission is to help negotiate a peace accord between the peoples of Trisidian II and V. Lieutenant K'h'gan, some background please." The primary tactical officer stands, antennace twitching as she pulls up details on the wallscreen.
While Leonard listens intently to the briefing - about the two warring worls and their last ditch attempt at peace before nuclear winter destroys one planet and global warming the other - in his head it all boils down to percentages. Damn that hobgoblin Spock for getting him into the habit. Leonard couldn't be as exact - he wasn't a Vulcan, thank God - but his estimates have grown exceptionally accurate over the years.
This mission, it seems, will require him to mobilise 80% of his staff to dea lwith the 70% likelihood of injuries occuring to the awa team. There is a 90% chance one of the injured will be Jim, which means Leonard needs to be on hand with as much blood and painkillers as they have in stock.
"Any questions?" Jim asks, when First Officer Tolaar has finished detailing potential defense locations in the event of an attack. No one speaks, so Jim stands first. "Bridge crew should be at their stations at 0430 sharp. Away team, likewise in Weapons Bay 3. I will meet you there. Enjoy your evening. Dismissed."
Leonard waits until all the officers have left, chattering quietly amongst themselves, before letting loose the scowl that has been itching to show itself. "Guns, Jim. You know how much I have having you in the same planetary system as any form of projectile weapon."
Jim offers him a small smile as he tidies his PADDs into a neat stack. "They need me there, Bones," he says simply. "This situation, it's - complicated. I don't want to leave it up to Tolaar. It's too much out of his field of experience just yet." Leonard nods, resigned to an extra streak of grey hair on his salt-and-pepper head. Jim shoots him a shrewd look from beneath his lashes. "You got my back?" he asks.
"Always."
Oh, who is he kidding? Jim Kirk hasn't missed Leonard's birthday in all the time they've known each other - coming up on twenty-three years now (and God that makes him feel old). There isn't a snowflake's chance in Hell that Jim'll miss the big five-oh.
Leonard sighs, returning his attention to the PADD on his desk, to the Starfleet communique open on screen. A petition, he liked to think with a healthy dose of scorn, to keep him in the thick of things. Sly, flattering sentences jumped out at him, like "It would be of great benefit to future Medical Officers if you were to share your expertise at the Academy." Leonard had always been wary of admirers.
It had surprised him initially to receive such a message. Hadn't realised Starfleet were keeping such a close eye on him. Hadn't realised someone there knew him so well. Fifty years old, twenty years of service, three tours of duty in deep space. Retirement hovers within his grasp. He's done enough, he thinks. He's at least done his share to earn the respite.
Then the thought, blissful and serene, snags on the perpetual thorn in his side. What about Jim?
As if summoned, that very same Captain appears in Sickbay's orbit. Leonard clears the PADD.
"Bones!" Kirk says, smirk twitching his lips. "Your shift ended forty minutes ago. Are you getting forgetful in your old age?"
Well, there went that brief dream of a peaceful - read: non-existent - birthday. Leonard rolls his eyes even as he pushes away from the desk.
"I've always been old, kid. You, on the other hand, have never grown up." Which isn't exactly true, though Leonard does envy Jim the golden hair he still sports even after all these years.
Jim laughs. "True enough. Come on, Grandpa. Let's go get dinner."
"I'm not a Grandpa yet," Leonard growls. "Don't tempt fate." Even the thought of his baby girl - okay, 26 year old baby girl - involved in the kind of things that result in babies gives him hives. They wave goodbye to Doctor T'ror as the doors slide shut behind them.
All through dinner, though he snarks at Jim in lieu of actual conversation, his mind chews over the message from Starfleet, dissecting it like a biology lab experiment. "Many research opportunities exist that could benefit from your experiences," it had said. He can just imagine.
"Finish up, Bones. Senior Staff meeting in 15 minutes," Kirk says.
"That doesn't mean you can steal my dessert," Leonard snaps, stabbing at Jim's hand with his spork.
"Ouch! Okay, sorry. Geez." But Jim is laughing. Leonard glowers at him, snatching up his dessert.
"You should know better than to come between a man and his key lime pie." Too bad the portions could be finished in three bites. Used to be, Leonard knew how to savour food. Being friends with Jim had put paid to that notion.
Jim shoos Leonard out of the mess and accompanies him to the Captain's ready room, just off the bridge. The rest of the senior staff have already convened, and are waiting expectantly for the Captain. Jim nods at them all as he takes his seat.
"Okay, listen up," he says without preamble. "At 0500 ship' time we will arrive at Trisidian IV. Our mission is to help negotiate a peace accord between the peoples of Trisidian II and V. Lieutenant K'h'gan, some background please." The primary tactical officer stands, antennace twitching as she pulls up details on the wallscreen.
While Leonard listens intently to the briefing - about the two warring worls and their last ditch attempt at peace before nuclear winter destroys one planet and global warming the other - in his head it all boils down to percentages. Damn that hobgoblin Spock for getting him into the habit. Leonard couldn't be as exact - he wasn't a Vulcan, thank God - but his estimates have grown exceptionally accurate over the years.
This mission, it seems, will require him to mobilise 80% of his staff to dea lwith the 70% likelihood of injuries occuring to the awa team. There is a 90% chance one of the injured will be Jim, which means Leonard needs to be on hand with as much blood and painkillers as they have in stock.
"Any questions?" Jim asks, when First Officer Tolaar has finished detailing potential defense locations in the event of an attack. No one speaks, so Jim stands first. "Bridge crew should be at their stations at 0430 sharp. Away team, likewise in Weapons Bay 3. I will meet you there. Enjoy your evening. Dismissed."
Leonard waits until all the officers have left, chattering quietly amongst themselves, before letting loose the scowl that has been itching to show itself. "Guns, Jim. You know how much I have having you in the same planetary system as any form of projectile weapon."
Jim offers him a small smile as he tidies his PADDs into a neat stack. "They need me there, Bones," he says simply. "This situation, it's - complicated. I don't want to leave it up to Tolaar. It's too much out of his field of experience just yet." Leonard nods, resigned to an extra streak of grey hair on his salt-and-pepper head. Jim shoots him a shrewd look from beneath his lashes. "You got my back?" he asks.
"Always."
