Old Bones

I do not own Star Trek or any of the characters.

Being a doctor is no joke. They always make jokes, Bones, that old doctor, he's always one for a joke, isn't he? Being a doctor is not a damn joke. It's serious business.

Leonard H. Mc Coy is a man of serious business.

He isn't a man that chases silly fantasies, like his captain, Jim, who chases everything. He can see him chasing things, things that it isn't regulation to chase. Leonard H. Mc Coy doesn't chase things. He just watches them run past him, in slow motion and sometimes, sometimes so fast he can barely see them. But he can see them. Going, going, gone.

A good Romulan wine will fix the problem, although what the problem is escapes him. He leans back in his chair and observes his lab. This where he belongs, can't imagine being anywhere else. The nurse, Chapel, she's so pretty. Too bad she fell for that damn Vulcan, Spock. She's pretty, too pretty to pine away for a man who doesn't feel for her. Who doesn't feel for anyone.

Almost anyone. He can see love, he's seen time and time before, and it's almost too strong when he watches the captain and the commander. Almost.

This wine, it's strong, but Leonard H. Mc Coy can handle it. He has old, sturdy bones. Bones, they called him, Bones, picked clean by a thieving woman who stole his home and heart. Now he only seems to be a heartless bastard, but hell, you would be too if you'd been loved and rejected by such a fine lady.

Wine talking. She was a damn siren, a pretty monster.

He's old bones, a great big heap of old bones. He's a doctor, not a damn emotional mess that sits with wine and thinks. That's for the young. He's going to get up. He's going to go to his room. He's going to go to bed. Forget about it. Sleep, and wake up and be Bones, the doctor, again. Leonard H. Mc Coy is a man and Bones is a doctor and they can live in the same body, for now.

He's going to. But can't. Last patient of the day, James T. Kirk, as usual. He's both drinking friend and brother in the war of heartache, although Jim, Jim just might be worse off than him.

"Bones, at the wine again?"

"Well, there are times when these old bones need a little grease to get them working Jim."

He doesn't need wine. He needs a body to hold. But Leonard H. Mc Coy doesn't need a woman, man or any one to hold him. He's not someone to let others take care of him. He is a doctor, of course.

Jim sits, pouring himself a glass and raises it, a toast. A toast, his eyes glimmer with mirth, to the days of the Enterprise.

He raises his half empty glass to Jim's and drinks the wine, a toast to the good doctor, and his health, to his loneliness, a toast to a life well diagnosed. Jim sits back and sips the wine cautiously. He raises an eyebrow.

"Isn't like you to not touch your drink Jim. What's ailing you? I am a doctor."

Smiles aren't rare with Jim, and one turns over his face, a silent one though, one that betrays a secret thing. He's never been good with secrets.

"Oh, Bones, you know. The usual. Just feeling a little conflicted."

Conflicted. Common, but not something he wants in his captain.

"Conflicted Jim? What's there to be conflicted over?"

"A lot, apparently Bones, a lot I didn't know you could be conflicted over."

"Letting it conflict you, it doesn't seem like something you'd do Jim."

"I realize this Bones, but I'm finding this to be a good conflict. It's exciting." Jim smiles, devil in sheep's clothing, and downs the rest of his wine. Looks around and gets up, straightens his uniform. His voice sounds so strange, happy and afraid and sad and worried. Did he ever sound like that, so full of something different, something worth feeling?

"I don't know Jim. It's the exciting feelings that get you."

"I know Bones. But I have a feeling this will be alright to let get me."

He waves good night and walks off, happy glow of wine all around him. Leonard H. Mc Coy looks at his wine and caps it. It's good night for the liquor and good night to the lab. It's like leaving a mistress to return to his wife, it's painful, but she'll be there tomorrow, ready to lend a hand and guide him back.

And then he'll sit back down in the chair, old Bones, and have some wine and think. He's a doctor and has much to think about.

Being Leonard H. Mc Coy is no joke and he intends to treat it as serious business.

A.N. I feel like such a nerd. I'm writing about characters from the 60s. I feel a little weird writing for these characters, but Mc Coy is right now sort of my character of choice.

Slowing I'm becoming an uber nerd…slowly but surely.

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