ARCHIVED !

it really sucks, but I’ve been trying to muster up Trek muse for... any of my three Trek blogs, and I just haven’t been able to??? SO, I hate to do it, but I gotta take a break from Bones, Malcolm, and the boys for a while. Another couple weeks maybe. Hopefully, my Trek muse returns sooner rather than later, because I miss writing with you guys a tonne! I’ll be on my OTHER blog for now, or on discord (  miss__murph#9797 ) if you just wanna chat! 

SO ! as much as I hate doing this, I really have to, for own my sanity tbh --- I’m gonna be dropping most of my threads on Bones and putting out a starter call when I’m properly back on here, some time during the week. Thank you guys so much for being patient with me while I destress from exams. If you really have a thread you want to continue, you just shoot me a message ! If you wanna plot something new, shoot me a message ! I had so many, you guys, too many. And notification armageddon means I’ve inevitably lost some anyway, so...

THERE IS THAT FEAR AND TREPIDATION  settling  over  jim  like  a  stormy  cloud .  now  wouldn’t  be  a  good  time  to  voice  all  that  he  has  been  going  through  since ,     the  incident .     mainly  because  bones  is  already  pissed  off  at  the  situation .  finding  out  jim  had  been  keeping  information  form  him ,  well  that’d  be  the  icing  on  the  cake .  the  captain  is  caught  between  a  rock  and  a  hard  place .  damned  if  you  do .  damned  if  you  don’t .    “  okay . ”    he  mutters  softly ,  scooting  back  along  the  bio  bed  so  it  holds  his  full  weight .  it  isn’t  going  to  be  fun ,  but  the  captain  can  already  predict  what  mccoy  will  find .

BONES GOT: ARES

ares is the greek god of WAR, and often represents the physical or violent and untamed aspect of war. an association with ares endows places and objects with a savage, dangerous, or militarised quality. when ares does appear in myths, he typically faces humiliation. despite negative context, ares is strong and fearless in the face of danger, and fights for himself and those he loves.

   He was right – she didn’t know. What the word meant, what that feeling was like – being afraid of falling? No. It wasn’t scary to be flying – to be in the open – to be free. 

   It was the opposite that was fucking mortifying, so much so that she’d fight with every tooth and nail she had to escape it, no matter how much it hurt her – no matter how much it hurt anyone! 

   She’d never get being afraid to be free. 

   Well. At least not for very many years. At least not until after Tallow was back, and then gone again, for good. At least not until after Akan. At least not until after seeing Len happy, with his own family – without her. 

   At least not for very, very many more years. 

   Tonight, she was still laying under a canopy of stars and staring into soft, gentle eyes. Tonight, she was smiling hard, but somewhat sad, as she turned closer to him. The curve of her body was resting against his. 

   “It’s not just Tallow. It’s everyone. I’m not –” She’s searching for the right words. They’ll never come to her. “I’m a fuck-up, dude. I’m just… fucked up. So like… maybe I am different, but… not in a good way. A bad kind of special, y’know? A sad-special.” 

He was as hesitant as he would be dealing with a skittish colt as he lifted an arm, let it rest across Willow’s shoulders. Len tucked her in against his side, cheek resting against her hair with a sigh. This was… it was nice. Simple. Easy. But there was sadness tainting his contentment, seeping in beneath his skin like a poison. He liked to consider himself a generally happy person, if not slightly hot-headed and cynical. Misery wasn’t his style.  

“Forget him. Forget all them – anyone who thinks you’re a screw-up. You’re a kid, Willow. Same as me.” At least, he thought she was. He didn’t actually know how old Willow was. But his point still stood. “That’s what bein’ young is about – messin’ up, learnin’ from it.” He squeezed her shoulders gently, letting out another breezy sigh. “You’re not a bad special, Willow. I don’t care how many times you try’n tell me you are – I know you’re a good kinda special.”

Jim had the glass up to his lips when Bones issued his warning, and the blond sighed softly and took a rather small sip instead of downing it like he’d originally planned. Bones knew him too well, and Jim had to be thankful for that, at least – being a captain meant he couldn’t really afford to go on benders whenever he got upset. Not that he didn’t WANT to because goddamn, he really wanted to. “Leave it to McCoy to be the voice of reason while I’m drowning in thoughts and feelings.”

Jim managed to laugh a little, his gaze drifting toward the window again – he was dead tired, overworked and wishing shore leave was in his near future. Or at least, something slightly more interesting than the emptiness that deep space had offered them in the past few weeks. “I don’t need sleep, I’m fine.” A bad lie, Jim. You’ve never been good at lying to your best friend. “I mean, unless you wanted to keep me company… my bed is big enough for two and, I won’t lie… I always sleep better when you’re nearby.”

Maybe, if you’re there, I won’t have nightmares.

“You know all you gotta do is ask if you want company, Jim.” Len set his glass down, moved around the bar so he could drop onto the stool next to the other man, their knees bumping together in a fond, familiar way. “And you’re a bad liar, Jim-boy. You know you can’t get anythin’ by me.” It was a finely-honed skill of his, being able to catch Jim in a lie, even when he was in top form. Not to say his best friend was dishonest with him all that much, but Jim seemed to have a certain… disregard, for his own health and wellbeing, which meant he heard “I’m fine” with disturbing frequency.

It didn’t take her by surprise—Len had made his intentions very clear—but still El managed to be shocked. She all but forgot about the key in her hand; her free hand coming up to the back of his neck just to keep him there. Like in a moment El would come to her senses and Len would disappear in a puff of smoke. She pulled back, not out of any fault of either of them, but rather necessity on El’s life. She kissed the corner of his mouth, trying to regain her composure so she wouldn’t buckle. It had been too long since she’d been this giddy. El let her hand trace his cheek, her eyes dancing over Len’s face. She’d always admired it, but to see it this up close… She felt like a teen again, only this time she wasn’t afraid. She had no reason to be. He was Len and he was safe. She gave in, closing the gap between them and savouring the moment.

Elmira hadn’t meant to fall asleep, it was just supposed to be a stop over to calm her down, and then she’d go back to Len’s room. But when she woke up she was still in the guest bed, and despite her painkillers having (noticeably) worn off she was inexplicably happy. And, to the best of her knowledge, she had no reason to be. She rolled out of the bed, wrapping her arms around her middle. She shuffled out to the kitchen where she could hear Len, running her hands through her hair so it wasn’t sticking up at strange angles. “Hey,” El smiled, and for a moment she had to frown at how natural it all felt. There wasn’t a part of her that was thinking hey, this is weird, “sorry about crawling into bed with you; I didn’t—” Mean to? Yeah, she did. So she just shrugged, there was a vague memory of Len pulling her in when she really wasn’t okay. “Thank-you. For last night.”

THE BLONDE HAD BEEN  in  the  process  of  sipping  his  beer  when  he  paused  and  looked  bones  head  on .   curious  he  should  mention  this  now .  a  twisted  feeling  entered  jim’s  gut .  but  who  was  he  to  dictate  what  his  best  friend  did  with  his  life ?  leonard  was  free  to  be  whatever  he  wanted .  jim  just  hoped  he  would  into  space  with  him .

setting  the  bottle  down ,  hands  move  slower  than  normal  because  he  needs  to  know  this  answer .  and  what  are  you  going  to  do ?  are  you  going  to  take  it ?

really, he wants to hash it out right here & now.  push bones the subject past the point of no return, to the point it’d be a fight.  it’d be easier that way ( part of him always knew it’d only be a matter of time until THIS happened. ), but jim only watches him go.  sometimes space, isolation, is good too.  there’s a wall to build – bullshit, but old habits are hard to shake.  he blames the morbid curiosity ( & guilt, maybe? ) that makes him stop by bones’ quarters as he’s finishing up his morning run.

he shrugs.  how’s he supposed to know how long, EXACTLY, the other’s been out?  the computer’d probably have a better answer than he did.  “you stumbled out of my office about fourteen hours ago.  i’m only guessing that you came straight here, bones.”  a fair guess.  the right one, he knows.  “believe it or not, my schedule doesn’t revolve around hounding you.”  that last bit isn’t fair, but since when has he EVER been able to stop himself while he’s ahead?  kirk breaks his gaze briefly, long enough to lick at chapped lips, to reset. “i’ll let you get back to it.  i just wanted to make sure you hadn’t –”  hadn’t what?  if it’d been him, he’d’ve done something stupid; ignored his basic needs in favor of alcohol, as per usual, ( sans thrown punches, obviously ) probably.  but, similar as they are, bones as always seemed a little more RATIONAL in his coping mechanisms.  “ – drowned in your own drool or something.”  jim swallows then, takes a deep breath.  “i gotta get showered & up to the bridge so, um, whenever you want to talk, let me know.”

he wants to talk about it NOW, because he doesn’t want this hanging over their heads the way it obviously is. len’s tempted to ask jim if he’s bullshitting him about having a shift, but he already knows the answer. alpha doesn’t start for almost five hours, unless jim’s decided he wanted to jog in the middle of gamma. he’s not in the headspace for this conversation, though, and the other man probably isn’t either. “just… just swing by after your shift’s done. you know where I’ll be.” here, in his quarters. in bed, probably. he’s still exhausted. “…we gotta deal with this one, jim. you know we can’t just… put it away for another day. not this. this is too big.”

Charlie understands why Starfleet wouldn’t want these kinds of things to get out. Paralell universes can create way too many implications, and even he knows it ain’t all good. The universe is enough to deal with as it is without adding in a couple million more of them out there with troubles that no one needs, because if one universe is like the others, then they would have their own problems. Charlie himself comes from a universe in the midst of a war with the Klingons after all.

So he holds the bottle, not exactly drinking from it, but he stays quiet and listens to the doctor’s tale about all the things that’s happened to create this different universe. It certainly is all very crazy and rather unimaginable, but Charlie has seen enough crazy things in the world to realize that whatever humans may find crazy, life probably has more crazy things in store.

He supposes he should really be surprised, and maybe he would be if he didn’t have his grandfather’s stories. But he remembers the stories, and suddenly all of this didn’t seem to entirely crazy. Well, it is crazy, but just not too much that his brain can’t wrap around it.

Charlie holds out the bottle back to the doctor, “You look like you need it more than I do…I guess…I guess this isn’t all so….crazy…it’s more like Grandpa’s stories coming true…though I guess it is a little crazy…I guess I just never thought he was actually telling me Starfleet secrets while telling me bedtime stories…” He sighs before asking, “So I guess…I guess you guys didn’t have a war with the Klingons then…that’s nice…”

He took the bottle back, but didn’t open it. It was set down on the desk, to be banished back to the drawer it came from. The damn thing had been a birthday present, and he almost – almost – felt bad that he’d mostly quit drinking for good. His attention returns to Charlie when he mentions the Klingons and Len barks out a laugh that’s more bitter than he’d meant for it to be. He runs a hand through hair that’s twelve-hour-shift dishevelled and fixes the other with an appraising look.

“We came close to it,” he admits, “War with the Klingons. Had a run-in with a guy named Khan a while back. It was… it was a mess, honestly.” That’s an understatement, but he’s not about to get into that. “I’d be interested in hearin’ more about the differences between our timelines, actually, but Spock – the old one, from your timeline – he says we shouldn’t know too much ‘bout it. Could have ‘catastrophic results’, or somethin’.”

He fell quiet for a few long moments after that, his thoughts straying to Jonathan Archer. He’d left out the fact that man had passed away in his sleep a couple months ago. It had been a nice service, and he’d been sad to see the man go. Not as sad as he was guessing Charlie was gonna be to hear about it. When he did finally speak again, Len’s voice was hushed, solemn.

     oh, that’s not good. 

     julian lies back down and shuts his eyes— though it’s barely enough to ease his nausea or the burning of the lights. he speaks slow, trying to not aggravate his body further. 

     ❝ … we were testing a few upgrades to the warp drives and— a few other systems. weapons, cloaking… making sure everything was in working order. we must’ve hit some subspace anomaly, i’m not sure. i wasn’t on the bridge when it… ❞

    he falls quiet as his head turns towards len, eyes squinting open, and finally taking in some of his surroundings. it’s all federation medical equipment, no doubt, but it’s old. and if this really is starfleet medical? this is state of the art for the time. which means…

    god, the department of temporal investigations is going to have his head.

    it’s second nature to prepare the hypo, give julian a cursory explanation of, “somethin’ for the nausea”, and administer it.

    “now, I don’t know much ‘bout what went on. I just know you turned up in enterprise’s transporter room during some kinda ion storm, unconscious.”

    that’s all anyone could tell him when he got the call, and len can only thank whoever’s out there looking out for ship’s named enterprise that they’d been near enough to spacedock to get julian here. he’d woken up a few times since then, but len doubts he remembers any of them, considering how out of it he’d been at the time.

For a moment, there was nothing – then, it hit her. A gray guilt, the same color as his pain – aching, burning, soldering away all else. Fingers tensed on her cup, but otherwise, she remained placid, unchangeable. Her lips did not shake, and though she paled, she was already pale enough from exhaustion. He breathed deeply and the movement hurt her, somehow, somehow bone-deep and reverberating. 

   Every night I was home. 

   What did that mean?

   He apologized for his emotion, like so many before him had in her presence. She understood. Many had not interacted with an empath prior to their introduction to her. She held up a flat hand to disregard his statement. 

   “No apology is necessary where offense is not taken.” Especially about this. “I, ah… do not know who of my ensigns you do and do not know very personally. Ensign Talan?” She was Andorian, but Aella would not use that as a distinguishing feature to which to describe. ( She had been called too often the Betazoid for that. ) There was a pause while she gathered her thoughts. Tell me more about this translation you wanna do. Her first inclination was to say why? For conversation’s sake? Did it have something to do with her mental health? Was he checking up on her? “It is not work-related.” Part of her tone sounded guilty. She felt her cheeks heat as she stared down into her tea. “It is… well, I have… I call it leisure work. I understand such is an oxymoron.” But she just wished to work on her language! That was all she had ever done! It was comforting. Was that truly so bad?

“’m apologisin’ cus I know how bad it can get for empaths, bein’ around people who let their emotions run rampant the way I do most times.” His voice was quiet, but no less intense for that.

It was nice, hearing Aella admit that she had a guilty pleasure. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he ducked his head. Leisure work. Only Aella would consider a hobby any kind of work. “I know Talan.” Knew her because she was always prompt for her physicals and didn’t bitch about getting them, like certain other people on the damn ship, and even aside from that, most people on the ship had passed through his sickbay a time or two. “She’s a good’un.”

It occurred to him that his interest Aella’s personal life might have been… misinterpreted, the thought making him frown. He lifted his gaze to meet Aella’s eyes once more, ensuring he’d be heard and – hopefully – understood. “Now, I hope you don’t think this is me checkin’ up on you or nothin’. Well, I ‘spose it is, in a way, but not cus I’m your CMO. I’d just like to know more about you, Aella. There’s nothin’ wrong with that, is there? I like feelin’ connected to y’all. Can be hard sometimes, when I’m shut up in my sickbay.”