leftwithmybones | (no subject)

He hasn't seen Jim in days.

Normally, the kid has a tendency to pop out of hidden places and terrify the crap out of McCoy. He's learned that there really isn't a hiding spot that Jim wouldn't think of as a convenient place to shock and surprise him (hell, he's gotten to the point where he checks mailboxes, now). So when Jim isn't excitedly pushing his nose into McCoy's business and it's been days, he's starting to get genuinely concerned. He makes a few stops and checks to see that no one else in town has seen him, which is when he picks up a few meals that only need to be heated and then a few cold and flu supplies, thinking maybe Jim's laid out with some kind of illness -- and for Jim to actually be kicked back, it's probably pretty strong.

When he gets to the country house, though, there's a weird sort of quiet. It's not like someone's sick, it's more like someone's grieving. He uses the key he has to let himself in, taking notice of the slight mess in the house that Spock would've probably twitched at the sight of. Laying the food in the kitchen and the meds on a chair, he tentatively starts to wander around the house.

"Jim?" he calls out cautiously. "You here?" Are you alive? is the one he doesn't ask, trying to shake worst case scenario from his mind, but he can't help that it's his instant, pessimistic thought.

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"We're not separated," says Jim with a shake of his head. "Spock didn't leave me, he wouldn't do that. He was taken." Horrible as it is, widower feels most right - Jim's lost someone before their time, to call it anything else would be a disservice to what they'd pledged to one another.

He sighs, only managing to get as far as taking the spoon in hand before his stomach gives another turn, and Jim goes green. It's been days since he ate, and now the smell of even soup seems too rich. "Bones," Jim gasps, miserable. "Maybe a hypo first?"

He doesn't point out that Jim is effectively the literal definition of separated from Spock, seeing as he's not here to argue with Jim. "I know," he promises, digging through his bags to find the hypo he'd brought with him, just in case. He loads it up with a few drugs that ought to help with appetite before injecting Jim in the neck without any warning.

"There you go, let's see how that treats you."

It's a sign of how low he is that Jim welcomes the sting, sighing in relief as the nausea recedes almost at once. "Thank you," he says, gripping his spoon again and managing a bite this time. With the appetite aids it even tastes good, and he takes another.

"You thought I was sick," he realizes, looking down at his soup. "Sorry, I should've commed."

"Couldn't think of any other reason you'd stop brightening up my stoop," he says wryly, even though he knows disappearance had flashed through his mind briefly, but it'd been so depressing, he hadn't wanted to entertain the idea. Looks like he should've. "Jim, don't apologize," he orders. "You do whatever you need to do with this."

"Just don't go out and kill yourself, would you? Last thing I need is to scrape you off a sidewalk because you decided to go extreme somehow."

"I got the blowing myself up out of my system before you got here," says Jim, but Bones knows him well. When the numbness recedes, the need to control the situation will rush in to fill it, and the only way Jim gets Spock back is if he finds a way out of this damn dimension.

And that kind of power won't be easily won.

"Who'd you lose?" he asks, because he knows Bones hasn't only been talking about Jocelyn. "On your island."

He snorts and settles into a chair, thinking he needs more than coffee if they're talking about it. "The better question is who didn't I lose," he points out. "You, Chekov, Scotty, Spock, Uhura," he lists, feeling worn just thinking about it. "My girlfriend, of a few years back. Then you showed up again and I guess I left you, this time."

He doesn't know if Jim's still there, on that island (or some form of him). He wonders what had happened, once Jim had caught him out with that tape. Suppose he'll never know.