Authors: mga1999 and skyblue_reverie
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy
Warnings: Rimming, felching
Word Count: Around 6200
Summary: The further correspondence and journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. OMG they actually talk. Well, write and then talk. And then write some more. :P
A/N: From skyblue_reverie and mga1999: Sorry for the delay on this one - RL kicked both of our asses this past week.
A ZILLION BILLION THANKS AND HUGS TO fanarts_series WHO MADE US THIS GORGEOUS BANNER!!!!!! We love eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!
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Click here for series masterlist with links to all prior parts
Where to start. First of all, I meant what I said in the bath. I don't regret proposing to you. Did it scare me? Shitless. Did it surprise me? Hell yes. I didn't go out there planning on proposing to you. Sure, I have thought about it, but honestly, I figured after your horrific divorce, you wouldn't ever want to get married again. Frankly, I didn't think it was that important to me either. As far as I was concerned, from the moment I added you to the apartment and changed my will, we were forever. I wouldn't have done those things otherwise. I don't need to make it anymore official than we already are, if you've changed your mind. I haven't changed mine.
I agree, we still aren't great at this communication thing. But I know we're getting better. I know there were things you wanted to say to me yesterday. I can tell you were biting your tongue, Len. I'll admit the same on my end, mostly because if you don't like something I'm doing, I want to know about it. I'm not going to be upset if you aren't ready to make changes to this place yet. You told me once that you don't like taking care of things like that. Luckily, I happen to be good at that or have people who can take care of it for me. There is no rush, Len, if you aren't ready. But you have to TELL me and not just nod when I'm rambling on with suggestions of things we can do here. I think you know by now, I'm an impatient bastard. I want things done and I do whatever it takes to make it happen. I'm not going to apologize for that. It's who I am.
You said we needed to lay it all out; well, I can do that. Honestly, I just want you to tell me when you don't like something. Sure, we might fight about it because we're both hot-headed stubborn jackasses -- But I promise you, I'm going to be more upset if you keep hiding how you really feel from me.
Let's start small. There I times that I really hate that you are a doctor. I also realize that makes me sound completely ungrateful since you saved my life, not only once, but twice. It's really hard for me, Len. Sometimes I'm not sure if you are looking at me as patient or as your lover. It has been hard enough dealing with my recovery myself, but it's twice as bad being under your scrutiny too. Philip knows when to back off and does -- You don't, Len. And yes, I'm an idiot at times and do stupid things, but I know my limits. I don't need you coddling me. I think if we're going to avoid any more issues in this regard, it might be wise if you weren't my primary physician anymore. I don't know. I don't want to sound like an ungrateful ass, Len. Reading this paragraph again -- I just don't know. There is part of me that likes knowing that you are looking out for me -- On the other hand, I can give myself my own damn shots.
Next -- Well, I guess it all sort of ties in here. But let me preface it by saying this: We both may be alike in our stubborn, speak-our-mind ways, but we're two very different people. I know we've talked about this before, but I'm a lone wolf, Len. I've always been this way, by choice. I don't know why, but I was just never one to make -- I guess you'd call them bonds. I mean, sure, I guess I'm close to my parents and Annie in some ways, but like I said months ago, I've known Philip since I was eighteen, and he doesn't know even a quarter of the things you know about me. I have never let people get as close to me as you have. There is no reason why, other than I've honestly just never wanted to. I didn't have the need. I've relied on myself, and myself alone, since I left home. I've kept everyone at arm's length, even my family, Len. I don't confide in them. Hell, I don't confide in anyone. And with you -- you've just blown my carefully calculated life right out of the water.
I'm not complaining; God, I don't want you to think I regret any of this. I don't. I don't know what I'd do without you anymore, and -- fuck. That makes me feel weak sometimes. Add in the nightmare of my medical problems and there are times I look in the mirror and I still don't know who I'm looking at anymore. I'm certainly not the same Christopher Pike who took the Enterprise out on that rescue mission two years and four months ago. I don't think I ever will be him again. I'm not necessarily saying that's a bad thing -- Fuck, I don't even know what I'm saying.
You're different. A different creature, if you'll allow me to elucidate. You need other people; you always have. And you're happiest when you are taking care of people. You may scare people with your irritable, cranky demeanor, but bottom line, you have a heart of gold, Len. You've been hurt deeply by things that happened in your life, and you feel safer keeping people at arm's length. You've shut people out who used to be part of your life -- That's obvious from your interaction with Mark and the other doctor I saw you talking to for a few minutes. They looked truly happy to see you. And I think you were happy to see them too, even if it was painful to revisit your past.
Fuck, Len. I did not like it when Mark hugged you. I'm sure you are having a hard time believing that I wasn't the jealous type before, but I swear I wasn't. Possessive, yes. I won't debate that. I guess I've simply never had the need for jealousy before because I never had anyone -- Well, that I couldn't live without or thought I might lose.
Even Jocelyn - If she hadn't been pregnant, that woman would have gotten a piece of my mind. More than a piece. I'm usually not one to judge people, but what when it comes to her, I can't help it. What kind of blind idiot would let you go? I will never understand that in my lifetime. I am grateful for her being a simpleton bitch -- And yes, Len, she is a bitch for what she did to you, no matter what your part in it was.
So I guess that leaves us with Jim. God, Len, I've tried, I've really tried not to let your relationship with him impede ours. I think most of the time I've done a pretty good job of keeping a handle on it. The fact that I care deeply for Jim makes it even harder. When you told me that you'd talked to Jim -- When you said he suggested that we should write these letters to each other... Yes, I'm a bit peeved that you talk to Jim about personal -- well, about us. Because other than Dr. Rossen and Dr. Elliott, I don't talk about you to anyone. And hell, I don't even tell them everything. Maybe that's wrong, maybe I should have people -- friends -- I confide in. I don't know. It's just not me, Len. But I have to remind myself that you aren't me, and that you need that.
I guess what I'm saying here is that we talk about forever, but I know -- I know -- that you aren't going to leave Jim while he's still in space. Part of me is okay with that. I know you two watch each other's backs. I get that -- logically.
Illogically, and as the man who's in love with you -- I worry that you don't need me as much as you need him. I know the relationships are different, but I also know -- Fuck. I worry that I'm just not enough for you. That even if you did leave the Enterprise, and space, to settle somewhere with me when I retire -- I just don't see you being happy, being truly content. You're a doctor, Len. And whether you're ready to admit it or not, I have never seen anyone so well-suited for the job you're doing. And it's not just your job, it's who you are. Me, I'm a Starfleet Captain who would never be truly complete if I couldn't go out and explore the stars once in awhile. I told you I wanted to retire after this tour, but that was -- Well, I just don't think I'm ready yet. Sometimes, I'm not sure I ever will be.
One of my many faults -- well, I consider it a fault, most consider it tactical genius -- is that my mind is always running through every possible scenario. Not just for my job, but even with us. Bottom line, I think too much. I plan too much. I always think if I cover every possible angle, nothing can go wrong. I know it's impossible, but I like having the odds in my favor whenever I can.
I just want to be honest here. I want to marry you, Len. I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just don't know if I can give you -- God. I don't know what to say here. There is part of me, when we were standing in front of the room that would be the nursery -- well, there was part of me that wanted to turn around and tell you I'd give it all up right now to have that with you. And I know we could have a great life, having a kid or two, living here or in Mojave -- but there is a part of me that knows myself, and pretty sure, you too, and that life, as beautiful as it would be... It would never really be enough. For either of us. At least not anytime soon.
So I guess what I'm saying -- Hell, I want it all with you, Len, without either one of us having to give up what we love. I know relationships are all about compromise -- But families are all about compromise too. We certainly wouldn't be the first couple to have kids and be in space at times. Look at how well Philip and Allen made it work all this time. Look at how amazing all their kids are. They've all turned out incredibly well only having one parent, or sometimes even no parent, at home. I'm not saying this is our only option, but I can't stop thinking about how adamant you were when you said you'd never have a kid, and leave to go back into space afterward. Or anywhere.
You followed Jim into space. I have to wonder, would you follow me if that's where I decided to stay?
I love you, Len. More than you will ever know. I want to believe that there is a solution that will give us both everything we want -- without losing ourselves in the process.
I'd marry you today, tomorrow, or whenever you're ready, Len. I don't ever want you to doubt that.
God damn, this is awkward. You're sitting right over there, across the room from me, typing away and I'm here doing the same. And I'm shit-scared of what's in your comm, and even more scared of how you're going to take what's in mine. Well, as Jim always says, might as well jump in with both feet. And that brings me right into what I wanted to talk to you about. Jim.
Shit. I don't even know what I want to say, or how to say it. You're still jealous of him, I can feel it in my bones. You know, I actually say "bones" a lot, in one expression or another. It's part of why he stuck me with that godawful name. But I feel self-conscious when I say the word around you, even in casual conversation, because I feel like that nickname and what it represents -- my friendship with Jim -- is something that bothers you. A lot more than you let on.
I don't even like to mention him in front of you anymore because of that look you get, like you've just taken a bite of something nasty at a diplomatic dinner but you're damned if you're going to let on that you didn't like it, and you can't spit it out, so you're just going to force yourself to choke it down. You had that expression just today, when I told you that I'd talked to Jim. As I said, he'd already seen the news about our engagement in the headlines before he got my messages, and when I mentioned that that bothered me and that I didn't feel like I could talk to you about it, he suggested that we write to each other, even if we were in the same room. It was a good idea, Chris. You know it was. We've always been good at communicating in letters. But you're pissed off because he's the one who suggested it, or because I talked to him about us, or something.
Jim used to look up to you like a father, and I know you used to look at him like a son. Now you see him as a rival or a potential threat, and it's going to destroy the relationship you two have, if it's not already damaged beyond repair. Chris, that's killing me. For both of your sakes. It's the one thing I was most afraid of when we started this, and we all said we wouldn't let it happen, and now look at us.
There's a part of me that thinks you're rushing us toward marriage because you want to stake some sort of claim on me, like you're pissing on a tree in your territorial war with Jim. It's not a contest, Chris. If you make it one, we're all going to lose.
All right. I don't know what else to say about that. I'm fresh out of ideas on how to handle it so if you've got any, I'm open to suggestions.
The second thing, and this is trickier, because... well, I don't know exactly how to express what I want or what's bothering me. It has to do with this house. I know I told you I wanted to fix the place up, and I do, but -- well, I think maybe it's tougher than I thought I would be, to contemplate making changes here. You're so excited about it that I haven't wanted to be a wet blanket, and I don't want you to think that I'm ungrateful because, Chris, you have no idea how grateful I am that you've done what you've done for the place so far, and that you want to do more. Just, well, maybe can we slow it down a bit?
Damn it, I hate this. Next issue, the press. I haven't lived under the microscope for as long as you have, so maybe I'll feel differently about it as time goes by. But right now, honestly, Chris, I don't give a damn what the 'nets are saying about us. I'm not ashamed. I'm not ashamed of you, or of who I am, or of what we are to each other. Let them take their pictures. Let them follow us around. Let them see us kissing or holding hands or eating or whatever the hell they want. I don't care. To be embarrassingly honest, I kind of get off on it -- I've already told you about my exhibitionist streak. Yeah, obviously I want private time with you also. But with the way you and your family focus on the press coverage of us and our relationship -- Chris, it makes me feel like you're ashamed of me, like I'm a dirty little secret you want to cover up, or like I'm not good enough to be linked publicly to the Pike name. As I write this, I know damn well I'm overreacting and letting my insecurities get the better of me. But if we're unburdening, I might as well do it right, so I'm putting it out there.
All right. Now for the grand finale. I'm sure this isn't going to come as a surprise to you, but I've been worrying about what we're going to do for our future together. When are we going to get married? Are you going to want me to leave the Enterprise? How many more tours are you planning on doing? Where are we going to live? Where will kids fit into this picture? I don't know the answer to any of these questions, and I know you don't either, but we need to at least talk about some of these things, even if we don't make any decisions yet.
Wait, I was wrong. That wasn't the last thing. TAKE CARE OF YOUR GODDAMN HEALTH, CHRIS. I swear to god, if I have to hire a babysitter to follow you around on the Exeter and make sure you're taking your goddamn meds, I'll do it.
I love you, Chris. I love you so damn much that I'm willing to sit here, feeling like a fool, writing all this awkward and embarrassing shit down in a comm to you. I just look at you sometimes and I can't believe how lucky I am to be with you. No one's perfect, me least of all, but I want this to work. I want it more than anything, and I think if we both want it, we can figure it out together. What I'm trying to say is, come hell or high water, I'm in this with you, as long as you'll have me. I'm yours, Chris, and you're mine. That's how it is, and as far as I'm concerned that's how it'll always be.
Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy
Huh. Let's see. Where should I start?
Well, Jim finally commed me. It was good to hear his voice. He had his comm turned off for a few days, so he saw the news about the engagement from the 'nets. Then he checked his comm, got my messages and called. He seemed so happy for me and Chris, and acted really excited about the engagement. He said of course he's going to be my best man, and that he's already planning an epic bachelor party and writing his toast for the wedding. I'm sure both of those things are going to utterly horrify me. But underneath it, he seemed kind of sad. I'm not sure what's going on in that idiot's head but I'm going to find out as soon as I get my own head on a little straighter.
I apologized for not being able to tell him the news in person before he found out from the 'nets, and he waved it off, but I think it bothered him as much as it bothered me. I told him about the deal with the press and how Chris's family wanted to announce it right away to head off some of the headlines we've been getting, but that I wished they'd waited and that I was kicking myself for not having been more insistent with Chris about that. There's a lot that we've both been holding back, I think, because we have so little time together and we don't want to spend it fighting. Jim had a really good suggestion, for me and Chris to write to each other about things that we feel like we can't say out loud.
When I told Chris about it, he got that pinched, sour look he always gets these days when I mention Jim, but he agreed it was a good idea. So we did it, sat down in the sun room and typed out comms to each other. God damn, that was bizarre and awkward.
Then we read each other's comms. I don't think there were too many surprises there, but still I have to admit it was tough. Particularly when I read that Chris doesn't want me to be his doctor any longer. I understand why, and of course I'll honor his wishes. It hurts, though. And I still don't trust him to take his meds. That's not related to me being a doctor, that's just me being his partner and knowing that he has a habit of neglecting his health. So even if I'm not on his medical team, I'm not going to stop nagging him about that. I don't think anything short of death could make me stop doing that.
I had to snort at the fact that Chris seems to think I'm some sort of social butterfly who needs a large circle of friends. It's true that I have more connections than he does -- other than family, since he's got a huge family and I've got basically none -- but since he's about the most self-reliant person I've ever met, that's really not saying much. In terms of close ties, I've got him and I've got Jim, and that's about it. I have colleagues that I spend (or used to spend) time with - Mark, Nyota, Christine, and even, god help me, Spock. Maybe a few more -- Clay and Jocelyn, once upon a time, of course. But none of them are what I'd call confidantes. I get where he's coming from, though. It's really goddamn flattering that I'm the only one who knows the true Chris, and I can see why he'd want to feel that way about me. The only way to give him that, though, would be to cut Jim clean out of my life, and I'm just not willing to do that.
So, Jim. He seems to be the crux of all this. I'm pretty much at a loss what to do about it. He's my best friend, and he's been abandoned by everyone he's ever cared about, everyone who should have loved him, and I'll be damned if I do the same thing to him. But, well, I'm old-fashioned, and I've always believed that your first and foremost loyalty is to your spouse. Jim is my family, though, and you don't walk out on family. I don't have any idea what to do about that conflict.
I know the "logical" thing to do would be to transfer to the Exeter once I marry Chris. But honestly, I can't see that ending well. Chris doesn't want me as his treating physician, and as CMO that would be my primary duty. And I'm equally sure I wouldn't enjoy having him as my direct commanding officer. I shudder to think of the fights that would erupt. But he's not ready to give up space yet, and I've got to admit, I'm kind of enjoying my job too. So all in all, I think we're where we're meant to be right now. The separation is hard. Really hard. But I don't see any good alternative. After this tour, who knows. But so many things could change between now and then that I'm not sure it makes sense to make a firm plan for what we're going to do three years down the road.
Anyway, after I read his letter, and he read mine, we just kind of looked at each other for a minute. Then he held his arms open for me and went and straddled him on the armchair he was in. We didn't say anything, just kissed and held each other for a bit. The inevitable happened and we both started getting hard. So I undid his pants, he undid mine, and we stroked each other while we kissed and moaned into each other's mouths. I think we just both needed that feeling of connection. His cock is beautiful, sleek and strong just like he is. I love knowing that it's mine, that I'm the only one who gets to see it and touch it. And having his hand on me, watching his long fingers wrap around me and work me in exactly the way I like it best -- well, that's just as incredible. It didn't take long until we were both coming, making a mess between us. Chris ran his fingers through it, then nudged my lips with his fingertips. I sucked our come off of his fingers and he watched me with such a look of satisfaction, possession, and love on his face. Then I did the same for him, and his eyes stayed locked with mine as he sucked every drop off of my fingers. I don't know what my face looked like but I'm sure it was goddamn revealing, judging by the way he smiled at me, so open and pleased.
Then he said "So, I guess we should talk." I agreed, and tried to get up from his lap, but he just tightened his arms around me and wouldn't let me go. So I settled back in, and we talked while I was cuddled on his lap in the armchair, both of us still with our pants open and our semen drying on our bodies. It was kind of ridiculous, but it was probably a good idea, because I think it made us both more aware of each other's vulnerability, a bit more careful in how we said things.
We didn't really come to any conclusions, but I'm not sure that any of these issues are going to be resolved anytime soon. At least we're talking about them, and I guess that's progress. It was pretty obvious that Chris was exhausted after talking for a while, so I asked him if he wanted to take a nap. Actually asked him, didn't just order him. He admitted that was a good idea, so he's upstairs sleeping and I'm writing this. He asked me to wake him after an hour, though, and it's almost been that long, so I'll end this for now.
Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike
I'm supposed to be napping. Fuck, I really am starting to hate that word. Truth is, I'm tired, but have too much on my mind right now to be able to sleep. Maybe after I get a few things off my mind I'll be able to.
It's not even lunchtime yet and this day has been, well, eventful. It started with the early morning beeping of Len's comm. Granted, it was after 0800, but after our fun in the tub last night -- well, we went to bed, but we certainly didn't go to sleep for a few hours. It started innocently enough, we curled up on our sides facing each other. I think we both needed to be able to see each other, even in the dark with just the moonlight shining through the window.
What we didn't say with words, we said with our eyes. For long minutes, we simply stared at each other, before his hand moved and started running through my hair. I cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb across his mouth. When he kissed it and sighed, I moved forward and kissed him.
I don't know how long we spent kissing, our mouths fused, barely separating to breathe. It was lazy, and endless, our hands touching each other's faces reverently. When he whispered my name across my lips, my cock twitched and I moved my hand down to his hips to pull him closer.
Legs tangled and hands wandered until Len pulled back and told me he needed to taste me. He kissed me once more and moved down, kissing down my stomach as he went, his tongue pausing in certain places, sucking and biting at my skin. He kept me on my side, holding my ass firmly with one hand.
When he reached my groin, he moved his hand between my legs and urged the top one to rest on his shoulder. Before I even had my leg settled, he took one of my balls into his mouth and then licked up slowly before swallowing my dick. I honestly didn't know if I would come again so soon, but fuck, then he started fingering my ass, playing and teasing me mercilessly, but not penetrating me. Shit, it was torture and he was driving me crazy. It didn't take more than a few minutes before I came in his mouth.
I needn't have worried about the lack of penetration. Before I could catch my breath, he had flipped me over onto my stomach and reached over and grabbed the lube off the nightstand. Of course, I nearly -- okay, I'll admit I may have screamed when instead of the lubed finger I expected, he spread my cheeks and licked a long slow swipe from bottom to top. And when his tongue pressed in, I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it, muffling the ridiculous sounds that were coming from my throat.
He pushed my legs apart, and slid his lubed thumb inside, stretching me some, but not completely. He knows how I like it. He knows I like it best when I'm not fully stretched. I love the feel of his cock opening me up -- The pain, the burn. Fuck. I'm getting hard again just thinking about it. He moved in between my legs and shoved inside. He braced himself on his elbows on each side of my shoulders and -- Fuck, whoever came up with the phrase 'fucked into the mattress' had it right -- He did. Literally. Quick harsh strokes, pressing me into the bed, his breath hot on my shoulder.
My shoulder still has a bite mark from where he bit down hard when he came. He stayed a moment catching his breath. Then he started kissing my neck, my shoulders, and then down my sweat-slicked body. And if that hadn't been enough, he started licking his come out of my ass. I buried my face in the pillow again -- There were words and sounds and expletives coming out of my mouth that didn't even make sense. I got hard again, and literally started humping the mattress as he licked and sucked at my hole until I came for the third time that night -- it may have been weak, but fuck. Just fuck.
Jesus, how am I supposed to nap now? I'm all riled up again thinking about last night. I'm not going to jerk off though, because I think later today, it's time for me to take Len into his childhood bedroom and do all those things I promised. Yeah, thinking about that now is really helping my hard-on. Jesus, Chris, get your mind out of the gutter. Fuck, now I'm talking to myself in my own journal. Dr. Rossen would have a field day with this, I'm sure.
So -- where was I before I took a detour through the porn zone? Fuck, I'm really losing it.
Jim. The comm that went off at 0800 was Jim finally getting in touch with Len. Once Len answered, he immediately got out of bed, grabbed his jeans and left the room. It was so abrupt; he didn't even look at me, just answered, told Jim to hold on a minute, and fled the room. I did not like that. One bit.
A minute later I heard the screen door open and close. I got out of bed and looked out the window of our bedroom. And sure enough, Len was outside pacing back and forth along the front walk. What's worse, he was smiling. God, reading back through this paragraph makes me sound like a first-rate asshole. Not that it isn't true. I swear I don't want to feel like this. I wish it didn't bother me so much. I know that Jim isn't going to take Len away from me. I know that Len certainly isn't going to leave me for Jim. I know these things. Doesn't mean it still doesn't eat at me and I hate it.
In fact, I would say that my jealousy of Jim is probably the biggest problem in our relationship. I honestly thought I had a handle on it. Most of the time, I still think I do. But damn it, when Len said that Jim had suggested we write letters to each other if we were having problems communicating -- I'm honestly surprised I was able to control what was I was thinking and didn't say something that would have made the entire situation worse. Plus, admitting that Jim had a good idea -- Fuck. I really hate that Len confides in Jim about us. That Jim knows when something is bothering Len, even when they're thousands of miles apart. That's supposed to be my job, and most of the time I completely fail him in that regard.
And Len is right, what he said in his letter to me. My relationship with Jim certainly isn't the same as it was. I don't think it ever will be. And that actually does hurt me. I still don't know what the answer is. I need to do something, though, because I obviously can't hide from Len how I feel about the entire situation anymore. I just need to fucking grow up and get over it. I'm fifty-four years old and jealous of a twenty-seven year old who not only got my ship, but -- Fuck. I can't even believe I'm going to type this, but I know that Len would drop everything -- do anything for Jim. And fuck, I know he'd do the same for me. He has done the same for me. That should be enough. More than enough. But it's not. I'm a selfish asshole who wants -- Fuck, I want him to be willing to do that for me, and only me.
Well, I don't have to worry about being hard anymore. Writing that out certainly took care of that problem.
Len and I did talk, though. Nothing was really solved, and nothing in the letters really surprised either of us. Well, except for what I said about Len not being my doctor anymore, but that -- that was said in a moment of frustration on my part. I don't really mean it, as much as I just need some space. I realize that he would be just as concerned as my partner, as I would for him if the situation were reversed, but with him, he's never not a doctor. I don't think he realizes it sometimes, because it's just him. Just like it's hard for me not to be in command. After we talked about that, he understood a bit more where I'm coming from, and I think we can work out a compromise on that issue.
The rest -- the rest of the issues are really pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and once again, it goes back to our failure to communicate with each other. We've put the horses and the bigger changes here on hold for now. We are going to have Annie finish restoring and renovating the main house, and she'll handle converting one of the outbuildings to serve as caretakers' quarters when Len's ready. He promises to tell me when he is.
The press -- I realize he's not so much upset with that as much as how I didn't even ask him about announcing it. Again, it comes back to my need to just take care of everything. I really am sorry that Jim had to find out from the press. I do regret that, because I know it hurt both of them. That's not what I wanted. And if I had just taken a moment and asked Len before my mother did her thing -- A day or two wouldn't have made a difference.
We're okay though. We're better than okay. I want to believe we're learning from our mistakes -- Maybe not as quick as either of us would like, but we'll get there.
Surprisingly, I'm feeling pretty sleepy now, so I'm going to rest. I'll need all the strength I can get if I'm going to take Len to his childhood bedroom this afternoon.
To: Leonard McCoy (email@example.com)
From: James Kirk (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Shore leave sucks. I'm going home. Just wanted to let you know so you'd stop worrying.
p.s. When you get the hospital report, IT WASN'T MY FAULT.
On to Part 30