Author: mga1999 and skyblue_reverie
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy
Warnings: May be triggery for events surrounding 9/11.
Word Count: Around 3000
Summary: The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.
A/N: From skyblue_reverie (the pervy one): There's a disappointing lack of kinkiness in this chapter. I'll have to work on that. *plots* From mga1999 (the evol one): Well, we are getting THISCLOSE to 300,000 words so I suppose we should do something special for that. *offers bribe to co-writer to write pr0n*
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To: Christopher Pike (firstname.lastname@example.org)
From: Leonard McCoy (email@example.com)
Date sent: Friday 2260.347
All right, first of all, I love you. I'm not leaving you. Although I am starting to get mighty irked at how quick you are to assume I'd cut and run when things get tough. I'm in this for the long haul, Christopher Pike, and you're not getting rid of me that easily.
Now, with that out of the way - has anyone ever told you you're a bit of a drama queen? Now, I don't mean to make light of the way you're feeling. But darlin', it's not the end of the world. Okay, you fought with Philip. You two have been friends for decades. It's going to take more than one blow-out fight to destroy that.
And you had some uncharitable thoughts about Jim. I wouldn't have expected anything different. I have uncharitable thoughts all the time, trust me, about Jim, Christine, Spock - Spock more than anyone - and even about you sometimes. And yes, darlin', I know you have uncharitable thoughts about me too. It's okay. Just do me a favor and don't tell me about all of 'em, 'cause it would hurt my feelings.
You really can't help your emotions, and you can't help your thoughts. Trying to force yourself not to think or feel something is about the surest way I can think of to make sure that that thought or feeling digs in roots and takes over. But Chris, I am so proud of you, darlin'. Proud that you didn't let your jealousy and anger at Jim affect your vote in the Council, proud that you didn't lash out at him in a comm. Can you honestly say that even six months ago, you would have shown such self-control if this had happened? I think you're growing more than you give yourself credit for.
All right, now to some of the specifics. First off, I understand why you're mad that I didn't send you a comm. And you're probably right that Jim would have let me if I had asked him. But, Chris, here's the thing. I knew that we were going to be confronting multiple Romulan warbirds - though no one knew exactly how many because of the goddamn cloaking. Honestly, I wasn't sure we had a snowball's chance in hell. And it killed me that I might go off, never to return, without having said goodbye to you, at least in a comm.
But - if we were going to have any chance of succeeding, the only way was the element of surprise. They couldn't find out we were willing to enter the neutral zone, to engage them if they attacked the cargo ships. And if they had caught wind of what we were up to, then most likely every soul aboard the Enterprise would have died, and it would have been my fault. Because I was selfish enough to want to write to you, reach out to you. So, I had to decide. Your anxiety and anguish versus the lives of all of my fellow crewmembers. It was a tougher choice than maybe it ought to have been, but in the end, I couldn't risk it. I can't even say that I regret the choice or that I'd do it differently if I had it to do over. I am sorry that it hurt you, though, more than I can say. I hope that you can forgive me.
As for the part of you that wanted Jim to lose his command... well, darlin', I have my own confession, which is that part of me wanted that too. I knew it was wrong, and I knew that it wasn't what I really wanted, but - Chris, I constantly feel torn between you and Jim. Sometimes I feel pulled so hard in two different directions that I'm amazed I haven't split right down the middle. And if Jim lost his command, well, the choice would be taken out of my hands. I wouldn't have to decide, and I wouldn't have to feel, every second of every day, like I was letting one or the other of you down. So, you see, you're not the only one who has those kind of thoughts. Just please promise me you won't tell Jim - not about my thoughts or yours. No good could come from telling him, and it would about kill him if he knew.
Okay, moving on to the issue of how much - or, rather, how little - time we get together. Chris, when I said that seeing you every once in a while wouldn't be enough for me, that was before we were so committed to each other. At the time, I believed what I said. But now - darlin', I'll take what I can get. If that means hurried reunions during shore leave or when we can get our ships' schedules to coincide, then I can live with that. Baby, there will never be a point at which I decide that I'm seeing too little of you and so I'm going to call it off. Some time with you is better than none at all. So please, please, don't be afraid on that score.
As for feeling weak because of your feelings for me - well, I don't know that I can help you there. I think that's something you will have to come to terms with on your own. But for me, I feel that loving you gives me strength. I have the confidence of knowing that someone's always going to be on my side, that someone knows who I am, all my ins and outs and flaws and quirks, and loves me anyway. And when I'm in a sticky situation - which, with Jim around, is more often than not - knowing that I've got to make it home to you in one piece gives me the motivation to keep going when I might otherwise think about giving up. Knowing you're out there, giving up is not an option. Ever. That doesn't make me weak, it makes me stronger.
Chris, I love you. I am glad you wrote to me, glad you were honest, glad that you reached out. I think that's something you wouldn't have done six months ago either. I said it before, but it bears repeating - I'm so proud of you, baby.
And you're not alone, even when it feels that way. You've got me, you've got Jim, you've got Philip. And there are other people who would support you too, if you let them - Admiral Barnett for one. Allen's another - I know that you don't want to take sides in the divorce, but I don't think Philip would resent you corresponding with Allen, and Allen's got a good head on his shoulders - he might be able to give you a different perspective. Plus, of course, you're lucky enough to have a family who loves you - your mom and dad, your grandmother, your cousin Annie - any of them would walk through fire for you, Chris. You know all this, I know, it's just sometimes easy to forget in times of trouble. But you are not alone. Not now, not ever. All right?
Now, how about some lighter topics?
Sulu will be relieved to hear that you remember him fondly. He still gets teased about forgetting the "parking brake" by everyone on the bridge crew. He always turns beet red and gets all flustered, which of course only means that everyone teases him all the more. But I'm pretty sure he thought that you'd decided that he was an irredeemable idiot after that little exchange on the Enterprise. He'll be glad to hear that's not the case.
Let's see, what else. Nyota and Spock had an awful fight a little while back, and for a while they weren't speaking to each other. But now they've made up and the lovey-dovey looks are enough to turn a man's stomach. Well, all right, the lovey-doveyness is mostly on Nyota's side. But I've caught Spock staring at her with a faraway look in his eye once or twice, and they've been doing that Vulcan finger-kissing thing every time they're together - in the turbolift, in the mess, even on the bridge, according to Jim. I'm starting to think that maybe the fighting was better. Well, not really, because I want Nyota to be happy, and lord knows she's ecstatic right now.
Damn, now I'm all worn out. This emotional support business is tiring. That's not a complaint, you understand, just an observation. I think I'm going to head to bed early. And, by the way, before I fall asleep, I'm going to stroke my cock into full hardness, thinking about you, then I'm going to lube up a couple of my fingers, and fuck them in and out of my asshole, over and over, and I'm going to jerk myself off until I come, moaning your name.
I hope that puts some of your fears to rest. I do love you, you stubborn son of a bitch. Now quit your moping.
To: Philip Boyce (firstname.lastname@example.org)
From: Leonard McCoy (email@example.com)
Date sent: Friday 2260.347
I'm writing to ask for a favor. I know you've got your own problems right now. I also know that Chris has been a first-rate ass lately. But right now he could really use a friendly face. He's hurting, Philip. I'm doing what I can by comm but it's not the same as being there.
So, if you can find it in you to forgive him, or at least to put that stuff aside for now, I'd be grateful. If you could talk to him, let him know that you're still his friend, I know it would make a world of difference to him.
Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy
I'll keep this short because lord knows I need some sleep, but right now I'm too restless to settle.
Chris is having a hard time. I wrote him, gave him what comfort I could. I just hope it's enough.
There's not a doubt in my mind that he's clinically depressed. Shows all the symptoms - classic textbook case, really. But last time I suggested that, he wasn't very receptive, to say the least - meaning he flipped the hell out and went into major denial mode. So I'm keeping my mouth shut this time.
Given all the shit that's been going down, and the way it's affecting both Jim and Chris, I've decided to pick up a board certification in psychology, with a subspecialty in space psychology. I don't know how I'll find the time to study in between everything else I'm doing, but I'll make it work somehow. Maybe one of those stubborn asses will actually listen to my opinion about their mental health if I've got the fancy holo-certificate to prove I know what I'm talking about.
Actually, once I've got that certification, I probably ought to use it on myself because I've noticed something a mite disturbing about myself. I get off on being Chris's confidant. And I mean that both literally and figuratively. There's something in me that loves being the one he relies on, being the only one who gets to see him so vulnerable. Strokes my ego, I guess. But - and this is the weird part - it also gets me turned on, physically. I wasn't kidding when I told Chris that I was going to jack off after I wrote him that last comm. The fact that the the legendary Christopher Pike actually turns to me for comfort when he's feeling down - damn, just writing these words I'm hard as a rock.
Like I said, disturbing. Well, now I've got a little problem I better go deal with, then it's off to bed for me.
To: Leonard McCoy (firstname.lastname@example.org)
From: Christopher Pike (email@example.com)
Date sent: Tuesday 2260.351
I don’t know where to start. There’s no easy way to say this so I guess the beginning is good. Yesterday I was sitting down to write to you I when received a priority vidcomm from headquarters. When I saw the look on Richard’s face I knew it was nothing good. At 1247 on 2260.350, Terra Prime detonated a massive explosive at the TransGalaxy Pyramid building downtown. I don’t know if you remember or not, but my godson, Philip’s son, Txanton, or Chris as his friends and family call him, is interning at a company in that building for a year. I don’t know if Jim has informed the crew yet but since you are close enough to Earth to pick up the newsnet feeds, I’m sure you’ve heard about the attack and seen the video of the pyramid on fire and part of it falling.
God, Len, my namesake. And it gets worse. It was lunch time and Allen had come to visit, to eat with him. They were in one of the upper level restaurants which is the only reason they are still alive – When I got word, they were still trying to locate and beam out survivors. God, Chris - he’s probably not going to make it, Len, and if he does – Fuck, he may have brain and spinal injuries they may not be able to fix. He was buried in rubble and Allen was pinned too but miraculously was not as badly injured.
Philip came to see me shortly after I got the comm, but before the news had been released. I guess he’d gotten a comm from you -- You’d asked him to look in on me. I was sitting there staring off into space trying to figure out how to tell him that his son and husband - because he’s still Allen’s husband dammit - had been caught up in a terrorist attack, when the door to my quarters chimed. At the time there was no word on their fate. He knew the second he saw me there was something incredibly wrong. The first words out of his mouth were “Did something happen to Len? To the Enterprise?” I shook my head and somehow managed to tell him to sit down, motioning to the couch. I sat down next to him, grabbing his hands, and managed to stumble through telling him what had happened. I’ve had to tell people that their loved ones were injured or killed before and it never gets easier – You know how that is, but telling Philip, especially when It was my godson. God, Len.
Needless to say those hours are a blur. Philip and I sat on the couch in silence, I just held my PADD in my hand, waiting for more information from Starfleet to come through. Maybe I am starting to understand you and Jim sitting together like that. There wasn’t anything either of us could say to each other. I don’t remember much other than conferring with my command crew. We got another vidcomm from Richard within two hours that they’d found Chris and Allen alive, but that it was bad. I’d already ordered the Exeter to head towards the nearest Starbase. Word spread around quickly like it always does on a starship. I had to pull myself together and make a broadcast – I have other crew members with family who work in or near that building. I was getting regular priority updates. The Federation is on high alert. There were apparently a couple other bombings off-planet at Federation outposts – Nothing as bad, luckily. I don’t know exactly what the news is reporting yet as we’re too far out to get the feeds. SFI expects more attacks, but they are considering it ‘lucky’ that it was lunch time or more people would have been in the building. ‘Lucky’ that only 1,000 people were killed or seriously injured instead of up to the 2,000 people who work there at capacity? Fuck.
They are recalling all ships currently on exploration missions and deploying us to various sectors where there are outposts and starbases they feel may be at risk. I’m awaiting orders right now. We’re too far out for the Terra Prime fringe at the moment. Philip boarded a transport to Earth this morning and should be home in a day or two. I can only hope and pray that if we are going to lose Chris -- shit, I had to take a moment typing that – That Philip arrives home in time to say goodbye.
I have more, but I’ll have to finish later. Right now I’ve got scheduled vidcomms with headquarters for the next few hours. I will let you know when I hear anything. I know you aren’t a praying man, Len, but if you wouldn't mind -- Chris needs all the prayers he can get right now.
I love you, Len. Re-reading your last comm has kept me going the last couple days at times when I didn’t think I had anything left.
Be safe, baby.
To: Leonard McCoy (firstname.lastname@example.org)
From: Starfleet Headquarters Administrative Office (email@example.com)
Date sent: Tuesday 2260.351
Per Starfleet Order 28455 you are hereby recalled from your duties as Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise and are ordered to report to Outpost 1113 by 1700 hours on 2260.352. You will await transport for reassignment as Interim Chief Medical Officer on the USS Exeter in relief of Admiral Philip Boyce.
Lieutenant Dr. Jabilo Geoffrey M’Benga will act as interim Chief Medical Officer on the USS Enterprise.
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