Star Trek Fic.. Part 3/5Posted on 2012.08.08 at 12:39
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By: ninomiya-arashi (cymrutvxq)
Pairing/s: 2009 Star Trek - McChekov (McCoy/Chekov), Kulu (Kirk/Sulu)
Genre: Drama, Fluff
Length: 5 parts (3/5)
Warnings: Cockyness.. yeah, it's Kirk.
Summary: 'It was the silence that wound him the most. The deadly silence as every human and alien around the transporter room stood in disbelief, in fear, in distress for the woman who had fallen to her death, and the man who had just lost his mother.'
Doctor Leonard McCoy was getting one hell of a headache. All the drama and frivolities on board the U.S.S Enterprise were driving him up the wall, he was getting sick and tired of watching Kirk and Spock bicker like a bunch of school children, and Kirk just being his outspoken self and getting himself into trouble.
Kirk had to go and get himself beaten up, as usual, and to make things even more completely barmy he’d gotten himself beaten up to become the new Captain of the god damn ship. McCoy knew that he’d be getting a lot of cocky smirks and ‘I told you so’’ from Kirk in the next month, or probably in the next year or two.
So McCoy didn’t have a lot of things to smile about, especially when the Enterprise was plummeting through space to reach Saturn, where they’d park the big piece of metal next to Titan where Kirk and Spock would go on board a Romulan ship and risk their necks. Yes, McCoy really loved space.
Not to mention the fact that he’d asked Chekov, who’d suggested the genius idea about placing the Enterprise above Titan, a stupid question that probably sounded a whole lot more mean than it should have.
Wait a minute kid, how old are You?
Did he seriously ask that? Out of all the things he could have said to Chekov after astoundingly coming up with a plan to hide the ship from the Romulans which would practically save everyone’s asses, and beam Kirk and Spock safely on board the black vessel he went and blurted out a question like that.
He must have sounded like a grumpy old man, not having any faith in such a young, teenage navigator that should be out drinking Vodka and partying it up till all hours in the morning. It made him feel guilty, like he’d disrespected the Russian, like he’d looked down on him.
McCoy didn’t want to appear like a snappy, hostile man like he usually appeared to be in front of strangers, and he definitely didn’t want to make Chekov think of him in that way. Ever since he’d met the young navigator he’d found him to be an interesting character, so young and keen to learn yet so mature with already enough knowledge to outshine even the Captain of the Enterprise.
He felt the sudden urge to take care of Chekov when the boy had broken down into tears over something that clearly wasn’t his fault, for those few minutes spent with a stranger he’d just met McCoy had wanted nothing more than to put an arm around the young man and protect him from the dangerous, massive world around him.
The doctor had to admit one thing, he’d never felt like such a soppy old git. Sure, he used to be all lovey dovey with his ex-wife once in a blue moon when he felt like it, he’d happily cuddle his daughter when she’d cut her knee or felt tired, but McCoy had never actually wanted to show his soft side to anyone. Every single person at Starfleet had never once seen him smile.
Ever since his divorce, the last day he ever got to see his daughter, the house he’d lived in for years being taken from under his feet and cash disappearing from his bank, McCoy hadn’t even thought of smiling. Damn his stubborn, hateful wife and damn the world he lived in.
And now he’d gone and said something foolish, as usual, to someone who was in his line of fire at the time, and that someone happened to be a young Russian who had told him he’d been so kind to him. Heck, Chekov had thanked him so sincerely for only talking to him and making him feel better about the hectic situation.
Chekov may not have shown any sign that he’d been offended in the first place, or was taken aback by the doctor’s words, but McCoy had that damn voice inside his head telling him that he’d been a complete prat and didn’t think before he spoke. So McCoy was going to do something about it.
McCoy was going to march back up to the bridge, make sure Chekov was free to talk since he and Sulu were a little bit busy trying to hover the ship above one of Saturn’s moons, and apologise for being such an ass. It’s the least he could do for the kid.
So there he was, standing outside the double doors leading to the busiest room on the federation ship. All that time spent thinking things over in his head, about what he’d said, what he should do, how he should apologise, and as soon as McCoy had got there he was stuck. He didn’t know how to approach the younger man, hell, he didn’t even know what he was going to say. And that was not normal for Leonard McCoy.
McCoy was used to handling things his own way, knowing what to do and what to say at the right place and right time. Well, it was in his job description. He had no idea why he was just standing by the door like a statue, eyes glued to the ensign in his seat and the sound of clockwork ticking away in his head as his thoughts got jumbled up in there.
He could see through the gigantic glass window at the front of the bridge that the ship was moving smoothly through a haze of orange fog, the shape of Saturn ten times bigger than the Enterprise to their left, embraced in a ring of shining rocks and dust. For a second McCoy’s mind was elsewhere, trapped in the beauty of space.
“Transporter room, we are in position above Titan.”
McCoy snapped out of his gaze as helmsman Sulu’s voice came into earshot, he watched as Sulu leaned a little to the left, communicating with the transporter room a serious expression plastered on his face. Chekov was no different, his hands had stilled on top of his con, eyes staring out into space as he listened to Mr. Scott on the other end.
“Really?” Mr Scott sounded surprised through the speaker, obviously impressed by the quick workings of the helmsman. “Fine job Mr. Sulu, well done!”
McCoy couldn’t help but be interested in the conversations coming through the communicators, he was relieved that the ship would be safe in its position for starters, but he was anxious as hell as to what would come next. And he didn’t expect to hear his friend’s voice come through seconds after Mr. Scott.
“Whatever happens Mr. Sulu, if you think you have the tactical advantage you fire on that ship even if we’re still on board, that’s an order.” Kirk’s tone was clear and calm like he was having a picnic in the park on a sunny day; McCoy couldn’t help but smirk a little at that.
But deep down he was afraid. Afraid for his friend that was about to go on board a dangerous Romulan ship and risk his own life, for the passengers on board the Enterprise that could possibly be in trouble if something went wrong, and for Chekov, he was worried for the young navigator who was experiencing things no seventeen year old should experience.
If the ship were to get into crucial threat then Chekov would be the one that McCoy would think about, so young and innocent to go through such ordeals, to see and hear things that not even McCoy was used to or could understand. For this, for being so brave and strong to want to be aboard a Starfleet ship and fight for peace, McCoy respected the kid more than he’d respected anyone in his life.
His eyes drifted to the boy who was watching Sulu as Kirk spoke to him, McCoy couldn’t see his expression but he knew from the silence that Chekov was feeling the worry that was etched across Sulu’s face. As soon as the words left Kirk’s mouth and reached the helmsman, McCoy could have sworn he saw Sulu’s shoulders tense for just a second.
Sulu hesitated, not for long but just enough to show his loathe for the Captain’s words, the look of being troubled in his eyes. His hand practically stabbed at the button on his con as he said, “Yes, Sir.”
“Otherwise we’ll contact the Enterprise when we’re ready to be beamed back.” Kirk finished, his voice trailing off.
Sulu stared at his con, fingers hovering above the screen as though deciding whether to push the contact button or not. Within seconds the pilot jabbed the button and said to Kirk, “Good luck.” His voice sounded lifeless, like it didn’t even belong to him.
McCoy took a few small steps towards Chekov, listening out for his friend through the con, waiting for him to say something back even if it were one word. He could tell from the look on Sulu’s face that he too wanted to hear Kirk’s voice; his fingers shook as they rested on top of the screen.
But Kirk’s voice never came through again. There were a few seconds where the sounds of people talking in the transporter room could be heard, and the humming of the engines and machines. McCoy knew that Kirk was still standing by the communicators, wanting to say something, but then the con made a silent bleep and Sulu and Kirk were disconnected.
As soon as Kirk disappeared the helmsman was silent. His eyes were unblinking as they stared at one spot on the con; his fingers were still shaking a little as they dug into its edge. Sulu’s expression had changed within minutes from serious to fear, the circumstances were affecting him more than McCoy could have imagined.
Chekov was looking at his friend now, his eyes hurt. He knew something by the way he gazed at Sulu, like he knew the other man’s secret that nobody else knew, and was anxious and sad for him as the helmsman sat back in his seat without another word.
McCoy decided that now was the time to take Chekov away for a talk, to leave Sulu alone for a few minutes to think things over in his head, whatever he had reeling through his mind was visibly written across his face. Chekov wanted to help, he knew what was wrong with his close friend, but the navigator also knew that Sulu just wanted some time of silence alone.
McCoy walked quietly over to the teenager who was by now like a ghost sitting in his seat, waiting for any news on Kirk and Spock aboard the Romulan vessel. The doctor stood behind him not making a sound, and gently he placed a hand on Chekov’s shoulder.
Chekov gasped inaudibly in surprise at the sudden contact, rotating in his chair he looked up at McCoy with wide green eyes. “Doctor?”
“Hey kid.” McCoy tried to smile but found it hard to, Chekov’s expression showed nothing but dread and worry and it hurt McCoy a little to know just how much his friend’s sadness was affecting him.
“What are you doing here?” Chekov asked McCoy, his tone quiet like he was sitting in a library.
“I uh…” McCoy mumbled as he looked at the young Russian, he’d gone from being the bright and excited Ensign from earlier to this scared yet serious navigator. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you for a minute, in private.”
Chekov stared at McCoy like he’d just grown two heads out of nowhere, slowly his expression changed and it could match that of a lost puppy.
“Well,” McCoy wanted so badly to growl because his patience had its limits, but seeing Chekov’s eyebrows knit together and lips more or less turn down into a pout in confusion made him hold his temper in. “Er.. Let’s go into the hall, ok?”
Chekov was noticeably curious and probably a lot more confused as to what the hell McCoy would want to talk to him about at such a time, the navigator got up from his chair and nodded in response. McCoy’s mouth opened, and then closed just as quickly, deciding just to shut up and get out into the hallway.
Chekov was about to follow the older man, but as he took one step forward he froze, turning to take a look at his best friend. Sulu was looking back at him, like he knew the ensign would hesitate to leave the con, and Chekov felt slightly relieved that a small smile was fixed at the corner of the helmsman’s lips.
“Go on.” Sulu said softly, head inclining to where the doctor had just strolled out. “I’ll be fine; don’t be such a worry wart.”
Chekov smiled at his friend’s words, that tiny hint of humour slipping through between them. “I won’t be long.” Chekov told him and took off in a slow jog to the hall.
Once Chekov had gone through the sliding door leading to the intensely lit corridor, he stopped dead in front of the doctor who was standing just outside it, arms crossed and brows furrowed. He was staring a hole into the wall as if in deep thought, looking like he was about ready to kick the thing down if his immense stare didn’t work.
Chekov slowly took a step forward, quiet like a mouse, then another and another until he was standing right behind the man. The navigator wanted so badly to frighten the doctor out of his wits, but decided McCoy wasn’t the best man to play a joke on, he didn’t exactly want to get on his bad side.
So Chekov tossed his genius plan out the window, and reaching his hand out he tapped on McCoy’s shoulder gently. “Doctor?”
McCoy gasped in surprise as he felt a hand against his shoulder, and a voice so close he didn’t know how the hell he didn’t realise someone was behind him sooner, he blamed old age. He spun around on his feet not so gracefully, and came face to face with the Russian whiz kid.
Chekov looked up at McCoy with a small smile, hands clasped behind his back. “You wanted to talk to me Sir?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” McCoy mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the ensign. “Er… I just wanted… I guess I just wanted to apologise.”
Chekov’s eyebrows joined together in confusion, his head tilting somewhat to the side as he stared at the doctor like he’d just asked the most difficult physics question in history. McCoy didn’t know why but he had the sudden urge to smile, the navigator’s appearance was so charming it was hard not to at that moment. But the doctor decided it would look rather out of place if he did smile, it just wasn’t his thing.
“Erm,” McCoy coughed unsteadily. The doctor thought he probably didn’t look very proficient standing there with his arms crossed, eyes wondering about the place and feet shifting from side to side every now and then. “Yeah, I uh, wanted to apologise for what I said earlier, you know… asking your age.”
McCoy cringed at his own words as soon as they’d left his mouth, they weren’t exactly the best choice of words, and it didn’t exactly explain much to the ensign standing before him. But according to the grin that was spreading across Chekov’s face, he found it quite amusing.
“You are apologising for asking me how old I am, Sir?” Chekov smiled sweetly, almost letting out a slight chuckle at the way McCoy suddenly blushed at the question.
“Well, I…” McCoy huffed, feeling his cheeks heat up uncharacteristically. “I shouldn’t have… been so… I don’t know… I guess it was a little rude and uncalled for, the way I said it. It sounded like I didn’t have faith in you… because of your age.”
Chekov’s smile diminished and McCoy cursed mentally. “I mean, I didn’t mean it like that… I have no doubt in you whatsoever; I have faith in you and your abilities. Age has nothing to do with it!”
The navigator’s smile returned, his eyes glistening. “Thank you Doctor.”
McCoy nodded his head once. “I was just caught off guard by your calculations Ensign, it was rather… brilliant. You’re a smart kid for your age, keep it up and you’ll get far in life.”
“Thank you again sir.” Chekov said, feeling a sense of pride wash over him. “You’re not the first one to comment on my age, many people in Starfleet think I am too young to be aboard this ship. But it does not bother me, I am happy and I am good at my job.”
“I’m sure you are kid.” McCoy said softly, it was amazing how mature the young boy standing in front of him was, and the doctor felt so old and dull being next to the new generation’s genius Starfleet officer. “Well um…” McCoy began, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry again Ensign…”
Chekov chuckled then, a laugh that echoed down the hall like it was lighting up the place. “Doctor, you don’t have to apologise.”
McCoy grunted, hands resting on his hips. “Yeah well, I um…” the man just wanted to knock himself out for acting like a blabbering fool, instead of letting his mouth spill out words he went for a friendly gesture, sticking out his hand for a handshake. “Let’s just forget what an idiot I’ve been these past few minutes, I’ll see you around Ensign.”
The navigator’s lips turned up into a smile as he held the doctor’s hand. “Most definitely Sir.”
McCoy had a funny feeling that Chekov’s smiles were without a doubt contagious, because next thing he knew he was smiling right back at him. And the strange thing was that their hands were still clasped, rather tightly, and McCoy didn’t feel like letting go.
McCoy was transfixed by the way Chekov’s dark green eyes caught the light above them, the tiny dimple at the corner of his turned up lips, and the softness of his smaller hand grasped in his. The doctor had no idea why, but he was unexpectedly so much more engrossed by the young man standing in front of him.
Then the sound of an alarm filled the entire hallway. It echoed off the thick walls, the deafening noise pounding through their ears to make a point that danger was ahead for the ship. The red lights located by the main doors lit up like exploding light bulbs, filling the whitened corridors with a blinding flash of intense ruby.
Chekov’s hand slipped out of McCoys, his gaze on the door behind them where officers ran back and forth, minor panic written on their faces. Chekov then looked back at the doctor, biting his lip as if anxious.
“I have to go doctor!” Chekov let out. “I think the Romulans must have done something.”
“Better get in there quickly then, the bridge needs our finest navigator.” McCoy said with a smile. “Go.”
Chekov grinned brightly at McCoy, and without a second thought he’d turned on his heel and ran for the double doors. McCoy was left to stand in the hallway, watching the young man retreat back to the bridge, his yellow shirt disappearing through the doors that closed with a small hiss.
McCoy made his way back to the medical bay, hoping that no injuries would occur during the time that they had fighting with the other ship. As the doctor strolled through the long, never-ending corridors full of frantic officers; he started to wonder why his damn hand was still tingling after Chekov’s touch.