leftwithmybones: (Default)
Dr. Leonard McCoy ([personal profile] leftwithmybones) wrote2016-03-23 08:44 pm

(no subject)

He's been wandering the city ever since Susan told him, trying to get everything out of his mind. He'd taken about a good few bags' worth of blood and stored it in the cooler to bring home with him, not sure what test he should even start with. He's exhausted from the blood drawing, but he's starting to understand that he's been exhausted for a long time, not really noticing. Now he is noticing and he's tired.

God damn, he's tired.

He just doesn't know what the hell is doing it, because he did a few physicals when he got the job and he'd been cleared, so it's nothing currently-modern medicine can fix. That leaves the future and not only the future, but the whole damn universe, too. He slumps on the couch when he gets in, flexing his arm and pressing at the bandage over his vein, eyes falling shut as he tells himself he just needs a minute.

Probably more than that, because at some point, he has to broach the fact that he's sick with Jim and he's not looking forward to that conversation.
to_boldly: (Distrust.)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-03-28 10:22 pm (UTC)(link)
When Jim returns home, Bones is asleep on the couch, his limp fingers pressed over a bandage on his arm. Jim frowns and abandons his groceries to the kitchen counter, staying quiet as he perches on the coffee table in front of Bones. A hypo wouldn't call for a bandage, but the wound is so small when Jim lifts Bones' hand that he can hardly see it.

Why would he need an old-fashioned blood draw? Frown deepening, Jim presses the back of his hand to Bones' forehead to check his temperature.
to_boldly: (You?)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-03-29 10:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"A little after six," Jim answers. "Which means your shift was done a few hours ago." Releasing Bones' forehead, Jim pushes his fingers through his dark hair, trying to push down the pit of something cold in his stomach. "You been sleeping all this time?"
to_boldly: (Far away.)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-03-30 12:16 am (UTC)(link)
Southern politeness aside, it's not like Bones to calmly ask Jim for anything, and the pit in his stomach grows as he shifts and takes the offered seat. "Something's wrong," he says, more statement than question as he fights with himself to just let things stay good a little longer. But Jim's never been any good at not meeting things head on. Even the truly terrible ones.

"Tell me what it is."
to_boldly: (Far away.)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-03-30 01:12 am (UTC)(link)
"At Mardi Gras," Jim says, biting back all the things he wants to say, that of course he's noticed Bones being tired, that he's half begged him to cut back on his hours, that sluggishness isn't weird when you work yourself to death. "Pretty literal, but I liked her. Why?"
to_boldly: (Distrust.)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-03-30 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
The coldness in the pit of Jim's stomach spreads, and he holds Bones' gaze, waiting out an explanation that only seems to get worse the longer it goes on. "You did them today?" he asks. "Are there tests that take longer?" Jim makes himself take a breath. "You're the doctor, Bones. You must have some idea what it might be."
to_boldly: (You?)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-03-31 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, I do." Which is precisely why Bones' relative calm right now is so terrifying. If he's not comfortable raving, then he's scared himself, and if this is something beyond even Bones' experience...Jim feels something inside himself begin to crumble.

He gives no outer sign of it. Ranting might be Bones' speciality, but putting on a brave face is Jim's, and he inclines his head. "How long until the samples return anything back?"
to_boldly: (Far away.)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-03-31 09:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"Take a sabbatical," says Jim, pushing down on a sudden rush of anger. He puts up with Bones being a ridiculous workaholic because he seems to need it, but they're talking about Bones' health now. "You wanna work, fine, but work on finding out what's wrong with you. If some mystical woman can see it just by looking at you, then that should be your focus."
to_boldly: (I'm sorry.)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-04-01 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well, I do," says Jim, meeting Bones' eyes. "I want you around." Between the thought of Bones taking a turn and dying and the comforting hand on his shoulder, Jim's eyes feel traitorously hot, and he stands.

"It's past dinner and you need to eat. I'm going to make us some sandwiches."
to_boldly: (Gathering.)

[personal profile] to_boldly 2016-04-04 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
There's no way that's going to happen, and Jim squeezes Bones' hand, lifting it to his mouth for a quick kiss before he extracts himself and hurries towards the fridge. The cool air feels good on his face, and he waits until he's certain he's not going to cry before he pulls out various fixings.

After a moment, Jim puts the cheese slices back in the fridge. Dairy takes more energy to digest, and right now he'd rather have Bones' energy on his immune response. "You want tea?"