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fandomweekly2022-05-16 05:40 pm
mxcatmoon) wrote in fandomweekly2022-05-16 05:40 pm
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[#136] Straight On Till Morning (Star Trek AOS)
Theme Prompt: #136 – The North Star
Title: Straight On Till Morning
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (suggestive dialogue and language)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 673
Summary: A five year mission in space isn’t constant excitement, but if does encourage philosophical meandering.
The first thing Len McCoy noticed was the morose figure staring into the glass in front of him. The second was that the screen on the wall presented not the usual view of their current trajectory through space but instead a field of familiar twinkling stars. They weren't all stars, and he could name them all, but mostly preferred to enjoy the view. He could appreciate why they were there.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," McCoy quipped, pulling up a chair and pouring himself a drink from the bottle on the table. It wasn't the first time, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Prolonged space missions were difficult on the crew, and while the ship was equipped with a very competent mental health team, he'd made this particular patient his own personal responsibility.
Even if he sometimes wondered, in his darker moments, if it was a sign of masochism.
"What else is there to do?" Jim asked rhetorically.
"Ah, now there's a loaded question."
"So let's get loaded," Kirk touched his glass to McCoy's in a wry toast.
"You're almost as bad as I am with the ancient colloquialisms," he groused.
"I live in the hope that I'll stump you one day."
"Dream on."
"You suppose we've romanticized this 'exploring new worlds thing?" Jim asked.
Bones raised an eyebrow. "You mean when the reality of it is 11 ½ months of mind-numbing boredom punctuated by two weeks of universe-ending terror? Which I can do without the latter, by the way."
Jim sighed. "Yeah, I miss that."
Bones shook his head. Sometimes Jim was like a kid who had to be kept busy to keep him out of trouble. Although, come to think of it, he found it either way. "Why Ursa Minor?" He motioned to the viewscreen. He suspected the answer but wanted to see what Jim had to say about it.
"Everyone needs a North Star to guide them," Jim answered.
"Or remind them of home?" Sometimes it was necessary to present leading questions to get Jim to open up.
"Maybe that's the problem; there's no north star out here to guide us to our destiny. Different stars, different constellations."
"Are you questioning your destiny?"
Jim shrugged. "Did you ever wonder about what your life was like originally, before Nero and Spock Prime changed it all?"
"I try not to." Just the little he'd heard from Jim and Spock was enough to cause nightmares.
"Maybe we were better men."
"You are a good man," McCoy said firmly. "In the uncertainty of life without a guiding star, that's one thing I never doubt."
"Maybe you're a little biased," Jim told him with one of those irresistible smiles. "Sometimes I feel like there's this phantom ghost watching me, and I'm probably letting him down."
"Who's that? Yourself, your father, Spock Prime?"
"The real me."
"Bullshit," Bones announced forcefully. "Look, we can only play the hand we're dealt. You can drive yourself crazy thinking about what might have been in some other parallel universe. Here and now, it doesn't matter a hill of beans."
Kirk grinned. "I do love your Southern way with words. So, second star to the right and straight on till morning?"
"Good Lord, man, where'd that come from?!"
"I don't know," Jim shrugged. "It just popped into my head."
Would this Peter Pan ever truly grow up? It gave McCoy a warm feeling inside to think he might be around to find out. Either way, it was going to be interesting.
Enough philosophical debate, Bones decided. "You know what you need?
"A good stiff drink?"
He gave Jim an openly appraising look, knowing the other man wouldn't miss his meaning. "Well, you got the first part right," he drawled.
“I do like the way you think,” Jim told him, draining the last of his drink.
They rose in unanimous agreement, heading for the door. Jim paused to take in the view of the stars one last time before clapping a hand on McCoy’s shoulder.
"Take me to bed, Bones."
Title: Straight On Till Morning
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (suggestive dialogue and language)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 673
Summary: A five year mission in space isn’t constant excitement, but if does encourage philosophical meandering.
The first thing Len McCoy noticed was the morose figure staring into the glass in front of him. The second was that the screen on the wall presented not the usual view of their current trajectory through space but instead a field of familiar twinkling stars. They weren't all stars, and he could name them all, but mostly preferred to enjoy the view. He could appreciate why they were there.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," McCoy quipped, pulling up a chair and pouring himself a drink from the bottle on the table. It wasn't the first time, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Prolonged space missions were difficult on the crew, and while the ship was equipped with a very competent mental health team, he'd made this particular patient his own personal responsibility.
Even if he sometimes wondered, in his darker moments, if it was a sign of masochism.
"What else is there to do?" Jim asked rhetorically.
"Ah, now there's a loaded question."
"So let's get loaded," Kirk touched his glass to McCoy's in a wry toast.
"You're almost as bad as I am with the ancient colloquialisms," he groused.
"I live in the hope that I'll stump you one day."
"Dream on."
"You suppose we've romanticized this 'exploring new worlds thing?" Jim asked.
Bones raised an eyebrow. "You mean when the reality of it is 11 ½ months of mind-numbing boredom punctuated by two weeks of universe-ending terror? Which I can do without the latter, by the way."
Jim sighed. "Yeah, I miss that."
Bones shook his head. Sometimes Jim was like a kid who had to be kept busy to keep him out of trouble. Although, come to think of it, he found it either way. "Why Ursa Minor?" He motioned to the viewscreen. He suspected the answer but wanted to see what Jim had to say about it.
"Everyone needs a North Star to guide them," Jim answered.
"Or remind them of home?" Sometimes it was necessary to present leading questions to get Jim to open up.
"Maybe that's the problem; there's no north star out here to guide us to our destiny. Different stars, different constellations."
"Are you questioning your destiny?"
Jim shrugged. "Did you ever wonder about what your life was like originally, before Nero and Spock Prime changed it all?"
"I try not to." Just the little he'd heard from Jim and Spock was enough to cause nightmares.
"Maybe we were better men."
"You are a good man," McCoy said firmly. "In the uncertainty of life without a guiding star, that's one thing I never doubt."
"Maybe you're a little biased," Jim told him with one of those irresistible smiles. "Sometimes I feel like there's this phantom ghost watching me, and I'm probably letting him down."
"Who's that? Yourself, your father, Spock Prime?"
"The real me."
"Bullshit," Bones announced forcefully. "Look, we can only play the hand we're dealt. You can drive yourself crazy thinking about what might have been in some other parallel universe. Here and now, it doesn't matter a hill of beans."
Kirk grinned. "I do love your Southern way with words. So, second star to the right and straight on till morning?"
"Good Lord, man, where'd that come from?!"
"I don't know," Jim shrugged. "It just popped into my head."
Would this Peter Pan ever truly grow up? It gave McCoy a warm feeling inside to think he might be around to find out. Either way, it was going to be interesting.
Enough philosophical debate, Bones decided. "You know what you need?
"A good stiff drink?"
He gave Jim an openly appraising look, knowing the other man wouldn't miss his meaning. "Well, you got the first part right," he drawled.
“I do like the way you think,” Jim told him, draining the last of his drink.
They rose in unanimous agreement, heading for the door. Jim paused to take in the view of the stars one last time before clapping a hand on McCoy’s shoulder.
"Take me to bed, Bones."
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