madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2025-07-13 07:36 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2025-07-13 07:36 pm
Entry tags:
Calculating Displacement
Main Points:
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse) Cambion AU (New Genesis)
Summary: McCoy is coming to terms with the events of roughly a year ago (and also a future, because time travel is complicated) and what they mean for him.
Word Count: 2633
Rating: Teen
“I’m sure you have questions, and I’d love to discuss them over a drink, but…” he begins, and Leonard feels himself relaxing slightly.
“I have a flask I brought with me so we can pretend,” he offers, and that’s an actual smile and approving nod.
“After the news you got, I do think that’s just as the doctor ordered,” he agrees. He waits patiently for McCoy to figure out his approach, though, rather than starting any conversation himself, and that just proves the idea that this is all still a test, figuring out how he’ll react. Probably putting his dabbling in psychology into effect, too. So sure, talking with him might be dangerous, but on account of the fact that McCoy really isn’t intending to hide anything at this point, not too big a deal.
Might as well start with the big one. “So, time travel, huh?”
Boyce relaxes a little. “Yes, time travel, and yes, I drank after that little revelation myself. Once I could—I wasn’t operating on Chris at anything less than my best. There was time enough after it was all over and we were limping back to lick our wounds.”
“Did you personally experience any of it?” Mostly, this is just...confirmation that what Uhura had said isn’t a whole lot of hogswash. He suspects it isn’t, that some of them, including most of the rest of the command crew, was more acting out of curiosity than familiarity, but it’s good to have data confirmed.
“Not personally, but I believe it without question. I’ve met the older Spock briefly. Unintentional on his part, I think; I’d passed him on his way to his ship to Vulcan, and stopped him to tell him I was sorry for the loss, only to realize that something about his demeanor was familiar. He didn’t outright confirm it—that was Jim—but he did ask about then-Captain Pike. Tried to tell me it was just a polite inquiry, like that would do him any good, and then seemed alternatively alarmed and relieved when he learned that Chris could have been confined to a wheelchair but miraculously healed. ” He seems content with this half-story, even though the curiosity must be nagging at him a little.
“This Spock didn’t even try to hide his emotions?” That’s a little unbelievable, but so, too, is the thought that Vulcans can just be unfeeling machines, when they are flesh and blood. Even if it’s green blood.
“He wasn’t ashamed of them, if that’s what you’re asking. And he’s not the only one that buries himself in his work or formality when he’s uncertain.” Boyce stares straight at him, and Leonard swallows, thinking back to his undecorated walls, his existing just for a job that he could have easily performed in his sleep. The rebuke has made itself known, and he just nods and swallows a little more from his flask. “I do think the grief made him a little more emotional than usual, but he finally achieved a balance between his human and Vulcan sides, and I do hope his current counterpart can achieve the same. To my mind, doubt, seeking meaning, and overthinking seem to be possible no matter the species.”
“But Kirk knows. Through that ‘mind-meld’ thing.” Some of his insecurity must show at the question, because Boyce’s reassurance is, well.
It’s not exactly the most reassuring. “I’m pretty sure both he and Older Spock agreed to try not to spread the details, but any of this I learned through Chris, who isn’t confidentiality-bound. The other version of you was a screw-up, too. Married twice, nearly changed history for the worse, could be more than a little racist or sexist, at times.”
Damn, with that glowing praise, who wouldn’t want him? McCoy is not nearly drunk enough for this. Just enough to voice that out loud, even when he knows he shouldn’t. “Not exactly the kind of guy any pretty young thing should get stuck on,” he grumbles.
Boyce shakes his head and smiles. “Oh, he talked enough about how attractive you were—and I am itching to try to figure out the root cause of the difference in eye color even though I know it’s research I’ll never get to do—but one thing you’ll learn pretty quickly is that Captain Kirk is capable of seeing the absolute best in everyone but himself. How his counterpart didn’t always take your advice but valued it highly and feels a little lost now that he knows it’s not there. That yes, you could sometimes be stubborn about the wrong things, but how it can be rare to meet anyone who holds on to morals as fiercely as you. That you always had this uncanny sense of when it was fine to tease and when he needed some reassuring words to steer him through, better than anyone else he’d ever met. That you never got drunk while on duty. That he had never met anyone with as big a heart or as strong a spine or who would battle Death itself ‘till the end for a patient, and if that failed, if there was still a life to save, you’d just grimly roll back your sleeves and dive right back in. That’s the kind of man I’d think it only makes sense to admire, if not more.”
McCoy briefly gets distracted at the thought of the eye color—does that mean his alternate self is more like a non-identical twin, and if so how the hell does that work—when the rest of it catches him up, and damn if it doesn’t have him blushing. He’s only really heard praise this glowing from his nana. The point is clear. It’s not about living up to that version of himself, because it’s not like he was perfect or if Kirk thinks he was—because he clearly does not. Then another thought occurs to him, between what he’s been told and the conversations he’d personally had with the Captain. “It’s not about me, is it? He’s terrified he won’t live up to his own image.”
Boyce just takes a long sip from his glass. He can’t confirm or deny, so it’s probably something Kirk had brought up in conjunction with Boyce’s own duties as a physician. But since Leonard had come to the conclusion on his own…
“Thank you, Dr. Boyce, for a very enlightening conversation, but I probably shouldn’t keep you.” And on that note, he had better sober up as much as he can and go find the Captain, because keeping going around his back like this just doesn’t sit right.
“Phil, please, and I wouldn’t concern yourself too much on my account. This is important, more than any Starfleet politics, and better company at any rate. Feel free to reach out again.” It’s rare, getting to actually make some sort of friends in the profession, and probably good for him to try to be a little more social now and again.
“I might well do that, Phil. Feel free to call me Leonard.” It’s only after he’s partway into his cup of tea before he realizes that he’s just experienced the first call in a good long while that he actually felt vaguely good about once he’d ended the call.
Finding the Captain himself is easy enough—mostly everyone he passes is good enough to give him directions. He can’t imagine that they all know about the time travel, but he’s starting to suspect that Kirk may have talked about him while drunk and are probably more than a little curious. It doesn’t rankle like it did, because now he knows. Slightly more fun to just stare back, though, sometimes with an eyebrow raised, which flusters most of them enough that they just look away. Sulu passes him in the hallway and just grins at the look. Spock—that is, the younger one—decides to escort him to the Captain, largely not speaking.
“I trust that you have found the evidence to verify the claims made,” Spock eventually states, purposefully vague enough as to be virtually meaningless to anyone listening who doesn’t know. It’s kind of masterful.
“The testimonies were good enough, yeah.” He has a million questions he wants to ask, and given the audience, he can’t ask any of them. Which, he realizes suddenly, might very well have been the point. “You gonna make any sort of argument about why I should stay?”
That quick glance might be startled. It’s hard to tell. This version of Spock is a lot more repressed. “I see no reason to engage in such activities. If facts such as our medical facilities and the opportunity to make novel discoveries are not convincing, I can only conclude that pathos is your rhetorical persuasion of choice, to which others are better suited.”
“Now you’re just being modest.” He’s still tipsy or he’s actually feeling comfortable again for the first time in years, and it’s a touch troubling that he can’t tell the difference.
“Gentlemen, please,” Kirk interrupts. His urgent stride slows, though, to allow them to walk alongside them without difficulty, and the tense line of his shoulders relaxes. If anything, it’s a mild admonishment coupled with genuine fondness for them both, and Leonard’s gut is pretty sure the story is true, now. Leonard’s not feeling déjà vu, but he’d bet you anything Captain Kirk is, right now.
“I had a nice long talk with Dr. Boyce over a drink,” Leonard states, curious to see how the Captain will react, and Kirk winces slightly.
“I’ve been rethinking my relationship with alcohol,” he admits, and given what else he’s admitted recently…
“Makes sense. Like most things, it’s probably better in moderation.” He’s not fully sure if or why he’s trying to come off like an actual professional, but for some reason, what the younger man thinks of him actually matters. Well, for one thing, he doesn’t want to be shown up by some other self he’s never heard of, never met, and will probably never really know much about.
Kirk side-eyes him, but that might be a slight smirk. Of course, he doesn’t get to say what he wants because apparently Spock can’t just leave that lying around. “Like many human sayings, while this sounds true in theory, in practice it leaves much to be desired. Dimethylmercury, for instance—”
“Is that the one that just outright kills you?” Maybe Kirk really hadn’t been exaggerating about the amount he reads scientific journals for fun.
McCoy winces. “I don’t know that I’d call it outright. It’s far from instant, and you don’t even notice for months until you start developing neurological symptoms, slip into a coma for months, and even after all these years with barbaric treatments like improved chelation therapy there’s still only a 50-50 chance.”
Spock nods. “It is hardly the only toxic compound, and humans partake in toxic compounds more than is reasonable.”
“Humans aren’t the most reasonable of species, Spock.” Kirk just shrugs, and that’s another clue—he doesn’t take offense at either of them. “For one thing, we’re prone to giving advice we don’t follow ourselves.”
“Illogical,” Spock states, and Kirk shrugs, eyes dancing, like something about this inane conversation has re-energized him. He meets McCoy’s eyes, though, like he wants Leonard to finish, like this is a dare. The reckless adventurer rumors might not be wrong—but then, that gives Leonard an idea.
“Yeah, you could see it that way, but that’s the point of a scout. Suffering danger so others don’t, and warning those left behind.” The fond look of approval is nice.
The Vulcan is at least thinking that through. “Your statement would be logical if it was a unique situation that had not happened before.”
“Score one for learning your history so you’re not doomed to repeat it,” Kirk agrees. “But you have to keep that in mind, too, or you’ll start to think you’re stuck with it, incapable of change. Pretty sure neither I nor the good Doctor here have practiced moderation a day in our lives, because we’re all-or nothing kinda guys, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing to be, but being flexible is probably good, too.”
“Speak for yourself, Kirk,” McCoy fires back—and, all right, it’s a little twisted, but this is actually kind of fun.
“I’m getting abandoned already? Ow, that gets me, right here in the feelings,” the Captain declares, and it seems like they’re drawing some stares from the passersby.
“I am eager to hear your evidence, Doctor,” Spock agrees, one eyebrow arched judgmentally, and Leonard gets the feeling he might be, too.
“Well, I won’t claim I was the picture of professionalism after my divorce, but generally, I don’t get drunk when I’m on call. Now, I might be between assignments at the moment, but I tend toward moderation for the sake of my patients.” And it’s nice to be reminded of a time when that was true, too.
The Captain lights up. Spock opens his mouth, probably to argue further, but seemingly gets a call on his earpiece, so it’s as good a time as any to ask the man himself. “Are you trying to seduce me into decidin’ to stay on your ship?”
Kirk’s glance is a little wary. Like he’s worried about giving the wrong answer. After a moment, he adds, just as cautiously, “Depends.”
Leonard snorts. “Motivations either are or they aren’t.”
“I’m trying not to push. I try not to seduce anyone unless they’re open to it. So it depends, Doctor.” The man’s voice is a little harsher, maybe, than he intends, anxious about vulnerability.
Leonard very strongly wants to cross his arms, but it’s a little hard to do that and walk, even if they’ve slowed down for the Vulcan’s conversation. “In that case, Captain, I’m open to being persuaded.”
He is pretty unfairly, well, good-looking, particularly with a genuine smile. They get interrupted again, though. Leonard might consider it a sign from the universe if he didn’t have some idea of how busy a spaceship is.
“Captain, we are approaching Regula I, and you have been requested to report down to the transporter room,” Spock informs him.
“Tell Uhura I’m on my way.” The ease with which he switches from the man to the professional is pretty impressive, and also Leonard would never have believed it without having seen it. Spock nods and strides off, and Kirk turns to McCoy with a smile.
“Feel free to join me if you feel like braving the transporters,” he suggests, and Leonard inwardly shrugs. Why the hell not? If he’s going to be staying on board, he’ll have to get used to it at some point or another.
“I seem to be sufficiently liquored up, and it’s not like I’ve had time to change.” As much as he’d wanted to get out of this uniform from hell. Maybe now he’s got the chance to get rid of it for good.
As expected, Kirk is absolutely delighted, though he does whisper something conspiratorially to a crew member they pass, just so McCoy can’t hear, the tease.
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse) Cambion AU (New Genesis)
Summary: McCoy is coming to terms with the events of roughly a year ago (and also a future, because time travel is complicated) and what they mean for him.
Word Count: 2633
Rating: Teen
Ordinarily, McCoy would be a little more concerned about just contacting one of the Federation’s most famous physicians, but if he’s not being utterly misled, it’s not something unexpected or necessarily out of the blue, so he does just that. Uhura’s perfectly willing to make sure it’s encrypted, too, just so no one gets any proof that any of the ‘Fleet’s finest surgeons have lost their goddamn minds. The pirahnas known as journalists or, sometimes more honestly, tabloid journalists would love to get their hands on something like this. “I have reason to think you’ve been expecting this call,” he drawls, and the man just nods solemnly.
“I’m sure you have questions, and I’d love to discuss them over a drink, but…” he begins, and Leonard feels himself relaxing slightly.
“I have a flask I brought with me so we can pretend,” he offers, and that’s an actual smile and approving nod.
“After the news you got, I do think that’s just as the doctor ordered,” he agrees. He waits patiently for McCoy to figure out his approach, though, rather than starting any conversation himself, and that just proves the idea that this is all still a test, figuring out how he’ll react. Probably putting his dabbling in psychology into effect, too. So sure, talking with him might be dangerous, but on account of the fact that McCoy really isn’t intending to hide anything at this point, not too big a deal.
Might as well start with the big one. “So, time travel, huh?”
Boyce relaxes a little. “Yes, time travel, and yes, I drank after that little revelation myself. Once I could—I wasn’t operating on Chris at anything less than my best. There was time enough after it was all over and we were limping back to lick our wounds.”
“Did you personally experience any of it?” Mostly, this is just...confirmation that what Uhura had said isn’t a whole lot of hogswash. He suspects it isn’t, that some of them, including most of the rest of the command crew, was more acting out of curiosity than familiarity, but it’s good to have data confirmed.
“Not personally, but I believe it without question. I’ve met the older Spock briefly. Unintentional on his part, I think; I’d passed him on his way to his ship to Vulcan, and stopped him to tell him I was sorry for the loss, only to realize that something about his demeanor was familiar. He didn’t outright confirm it—that was Jim—but he did ask about then-Captain Pike. Tried to tell me it was just a polite inquiry, like that would do him any good, and then seemed alternatively alarmed and relieved when he learned that Chris could have been confined to a wheelchair but miraculously healed. ” He seems content with this half-story, even though the curiosity must be nagging at him a little.
“This Spock didn’t even try to hide his emotions?” That’s a little unbelievable, but so, too, is the thought that Vulcans can just be unfeeling machines, when they are flesh and blood. Even if it’s green blood.
“He wasn’t ashamed of them, if that’s what you’re asking. And he’s not the only one that buries himself in his work or formality when he’s uncertain.” Boyce stares straight at him, and Leonard swallows, thinking back to his undecorated walls, his existing just for a job that he could have easily performed in his sleep. The rebuke has made itself known, and he just nods and swallows a little more from his flask. “I do think the grief made him a little more emotional than usual, but he finally achieved a balance between his human and Vulcan sides, and I do hope his current counterpart can achieve the same. To my mind, doubt, seeking meaning, and overthinking seem to be possible no matter the species.”
“But Kirk knows. Through that ‘mind-meld’ thing.” Some of his insecurity must show at the question, because Boyce’s reassurance is, well.
It’s not exactly the most reassuring. “I’m pretty sure both he and Older Spock agreed to try not to spread the details, but any of this I learned through Chris, who isn’t confidentiality-bound. The other version of you was a screw-up, too. Married twice, nearly changed history for the worse, could be more than a little racist or sexist, at times.”
Damn, with that glowing praise, who wouldn’t want him? McCoy is not nearly drunk enough for this. Just enough to voice that out loud, even when he knows he shouldn’t. “Not exactly the kind of guy any pretty young thing should get stuck on,” he grumbles.
Boyce shakes his head and smiles. “Oh, he talked enough about how attractive you were—and I am itching to try to figure out the root cause of the difference in eye color even though I know it’s research I’ll never get to do—but one thing you’ll learn pretty quickly is that Captain Kirk is capable of seeing the absolute best in everyone but himself. How his counterpart didn’t always take your advice but valued it highly and feels a little lost now that he knows it’s not there. That yes, you could sometimes be stubborn about the wrong things, but how it can be rare to meet anyone who holds on to morals as fiercely as you. That you always had this uncanny sense of when it was fine to tease and when he needed some reassuring words to steer him through, better than anyone else he’d ever met. That you never got drunk while on duty. That he had never met anyone with as big a heart or as strong a spine or who would battle Death itself ‘till the end for a patient, and if that failed, if there was still a life to save, you’d just grimly roll back your sleeves and dive right back in. That’s the kind of man I’d think it only makes sense to admire, if not more.”
McCoy briefly gets distracted at the thought of the eye color—does that mean his alternate self is more like a non-identical twin, and if so how the hell does that work—when the rest of it catches him up, and damn if it doesn’t have him blushing. He’s only really heard praise this glowing from his nana. The point is clear. It’s not about living up to that version of himself, because it’s not like he was perfect or if Kirk thinks he was—because he clearly does not. Then another thought occurs to him, between what he’s been told and the conversations he’d personally had with the Captain. “It’s not about me, is it? He’s terrified he won’t live up to his own image.”
Boyce just takes a long sip from his glass. He can’t confirm or deny, so it’s probably something Kirk had brought up in conjunction with Boyce’s own duties as a physician. But since Leonard had come to the conclusion on his own…
“Thank you, Dr. Boyce, for a very enlightening conversation, but I probably shouldn’t keep you.” And on that note, he had better sober up as much as he can and go find the Captain, because keeping going around his back like this just doesn’t sit right.
“Phil, please, and I wouldn’t concern yourself too much on my account. This is important, more than any Starfleet politics, and better company at any rate. Feel free to reach out again.” It’s rare, getting to actually make some sort of friends in the profession, and probably good for him to try to be a little more social now and again.
“I might well do that, Phil. Feel free to call me Leonard.” It’s only after he’s partway into his cup of tea before he realizes that he’s just experienced the first call in a good long while that he actually felt vaguely good about once he’d ended the call.
Finding the Captain himself is easy enough—mostly everyone he passes is good enough to give him directions. He can’t imagine that they all know about the time travel, but he’s starting to suspect that Kirk may have talked about him while drunk and are probably more than a little curious. It doesn’t rankle like it did, because now he knows. Slightly more fun to just stare back, though, sometimes with an eyebrow raised, which flusters most of them enough that they just look away. Sulu passes him in the hallway and just grins at the look. Spock—that is, the younger one—decides to escort him to the Captain, largely not speaking.
“I trust that you have found the evidence to verify the claims made,” Spock eventually states, purposefully vague enough as to be virtually meaningless to anyone listening who doesn’t know. It’s kind of masterful.
“The testimonies were good enough, yeah.” He has a million questions he wants to ask, and given the audience, he can’t ask any of them. Which, he realizes suddenly, might very well have been the point. “You gonna make any sort of argument about why I should stay?”
That quick glance might be startled. It’s hard to tell. This version of Spock is a lot more repressed. “I see no reason to engage in such activities. If facts such as our medical facilities and the opportunity to make novel discoveries are not convincing, I can only conclude that pathos is your rhetorical persuasion of choice, to which others are better suited.”
“Now you’re just being modest.” He’s still tipsy or he’s actually feeling comfortable again for the first time in years, and it’s a touch troubling that he can’t tell the difference.
“Gentlemen, please,” Kirk interrupts. His urgent stride slows, though, to allow them to walk alongside them without difficulty, and the tense line of his shoulders relaxes. If anything, it’s a mild admonishment coupled with genuine fondness for them both, and Leonard’s gut is pretty sure the story is true, now. Leonard’s not feeling déjà vu, but he’d bet you anything Captain Kirk is, right now.
“I had a nice long talk with Dr. Boyce over a drink,” Leonard states, curious to see how the Captain will react, and Kirk winces slightly.
“I’ve been rethinking my relationship with alcohol,” he admits, and given what else he’s admitted recently…
“Makes sense. Like most things, it’s probably better in moderation.” He’s not fully sure if or why he’s trying to come off like an actual professional, but for some reason, what the younger man thinks of him actually matters. Well, for one thing, he doesn’t want to be shown up by some other self he’s never heard of, never met, and will probably never really know much about.
Kirk side-eyes him, but that might be a slight smirk. Of course, he doesn’t get to say what he wants because apparently Spock can’t just leave that lying around. “Like many human sayings, while this sounds true in theory, in practice it leaves much to be desired. Dimethylmercury, for instance—”
“Is that the one that just outright kills you?” Maybe Kirk really hadn’t been exaggerating about the amount he reads scientific journals for fun.
McCoy winces. “I don’t know that I’d call it outright. It’s far from instant, and you don’t even notice for months until you start developing neurological symptoms, slip into a coma for months, and even after all these years with barbaric treatments like improved chelation therapy there’s still only a 50-50 chance.”
Spock nods. “It is hardly the only toxic compound, and humans partake in toxic compounds more than is reasonable.”
“Humans aren’t the most reasonable of species, Spock.” Kirk just shrugs, and that’s another clue—he doesn’t take offense at either of them. “For one thing, we’re prone to giving advice we don’t follow ourselves.”
“Illogical,” Spock states, and Kirk shrugs, eyes dancing, like something about this inane conversation has re-energized him. He meets McCoy’s eyes, though, like he wants Leonard to finish, like this is a dare. The reckless adventurer rumors might not be wrong—but then, that gives Leonard an idea.
“Yeah, you could see it that way, but that’s the point of a scout. Suffering danger so others don’t, and warning those left behind.” The fond look of approval is nice.
The Vulcan is at least thinking that through. “Your statement would be logical if it was a unique situation that had not happened before.”
“Score one for learning your history so you’re not doomed to repeat it,” Kirk agrees. “But you have to keep that in mind, too, or you’ll start to think you’re stuck with it, incapable of change. Pretty sure neither I nor the good Doctor here have practiced moderation a day in our lives, because we’re all-or nothing kinda guys, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing to be, but being flexible is probably good, too.”
“Speak for yourself, Kirk,” McCoy fires back—and, all right, it’s a little twisted, but this is actually kind of fun.
“I’m getting abandoned already? Ow, that gets me, right here in the feelings,” the Captain declares, and it seems like they’re drawing some stares from the passersby.
“I am eager to hear your evidence, Doctor,” Spock agrees, one eyebrow arched judgmentally, and Leonard gets the feeling he might be, too.
“Well, I won’t claim I was the picture of professionalism after my divorce, but generally, I don’t get drunk when I’m on call. Now, I might be between assignments at the moment, but I tend toward moderation for the sake of my patients.” And it’s nice to be reminded of a time when that was true, too.
The Captain lights up. Spock opens his mouth, probably to argue further, but seemingly gets a call on his earpiece, so it’s as good a time as any to ask the man himself. “Are you trying to seduce me into decidin’ to stay on your ship?”
Kirk’s glance is a little wary. Like he’s worried about giving the wrong answer. After a moment, he adds, just as cautiously, “Depends.”
Leonard snorts. “Motivations either are or they aren’t.”
“I’m trying not to push. I try not to seduce anyone unless they’re open to it. So it depends, Doctor.” The man’s voice is a little harsher, maybe, than he intends, anxious about vulnerability.
Leonard very strongly wants to cross his arms, but it’s a little hard to do that and walk, even if they’ve slowed down for the Vulcan’s conversation. “In that case, Captain, I’m open to being persuaded.”
He is pretty unfairly, well, good-looking, particularly with a genuine smile. They get interrupted again, though. Leonard might consider it a sign from the universe if he didn’t have some idea of how busy a spaceship is.
“Captain, we are approaching Regula I, and you have been requested to report down to the transporter room,” Spock informs him.
“Tell Uhura I’m on my way.” The ease with which he switches from the man to the professional is pretty impressive, and also Leonard would never have believed it without having seen it. Spock nods and strides off, and Kirk turns to McCoy with a smile.
“Feel free to join me if you feel like braving the transporters,” he suggests, and Leonard inwardly shrugs. Why the hell not? If he’s going to be staying on board, he’ll have to get used to it at some point or another.
“I seem to be sufficiently liquored up, and it’s not like I’ve had time to change.” As much as he’d wanted to get out of this uniform from hell. Maybe now he’s got the chance to get rid of it for good.
As expected, Kirk is absolutely delighted, though he does whisper something conspiratorially to a crew member they pass, just so McCoy can’t hear, the tease.