#leonard mcccoy

[deforest-kelley]

Tholian Web

[anxiously-going]

Okay, so I know that in the Star Trek future, they wouldn't be so ableist to others (except on rare occasions), but I still like this idea. So imagine that Starfleet Admirals are visiting the Enterprise for whatever reason and while they say that everything is in working orders, they let Kirk know that they have some... doubts, about how much Doctor McCoy is able to be a "capable doctor", thinking that he would have trouble in high stakes situations, etc. (1/2)

Naturally, Kirk is rightfully pissed (he tries not to show it, he really does) and tells them where to stuff it and that Bones is the best Doctor he has ever seen. Bonus points if this somehow gets around the other crewmembers and others like Spock and Uhura also stick up for him. Afterwards, Bones is acting all embarrassed and passive about their praises and what they did, but on the inside, he's crying now realizing how much his makeshift family cares for him. (2/2)

---

I have thought about this so often. About those rare people who are crueler than any one person has a right to be. The instructor who calls him weak, the ambassador who refuses to let him treat their child, the offers of a ground position at research posts that are not so thinly veiled questions about his abilities aboard a starship.

I've written out drafts of Len having meltdowns at the Academy and on the ship. Drafts with him going into shutdowns and Uhura teaching him to sign so he can still communicate even when sensory overload makes using a datapad different or impossible. Drafts where he tells Jim that ableism isn't rare, not for him.

I can just imagine Len telling Jim to leave it alone. He's used to people doubting him and it's fine. And Jim's heart breaks a little because of how defeated Len already sounds. And it's like all that time in the Academy that they spent working on Len accepting his autism never happened. And even after nothing but glowing remarks from Chapel and M'Benga and other crewmen, even after the admirals are gone, there's a heaviness to him.

Then Uhura starts signing to him, Spock ever so slightly rocks side to side, Jim bounces on his toes, everyone does all these little things to remind him that he's ok, that they care, and are never going to hold his autism against him.

[anxiously-going]

I made it worse. Possibly better? I dunno. I rewrote the prompt from one @beauty-grace-outer-space

"Then hit me," Jim answered coolly. Len went rigid at his words, and at the edge, barely noticable, to his voice. "Just take a swing. It'll make you feel better and I can take it."

"Jim-" he started softly, but Jim cut him off.

"It's better than you staying mad. So hit me, get it out of your system. I'll be fine."

"No-"

"Just get it over with!" Jim shouted.

Len stumbled back few steps when Jim shoved him hard in the chest. "Just hit me so we can be done with this!"

Leonard reached out a careful hand. "I'm not gonna hit you. Jim, I'm never going to hit you. That's not how this is gonna work."

"Then what?" Jim demanded, keeping his body rigid, and staring with hard eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't trembling.

"I don't know. But I'm not gonna hit you, not now, not ever. I can't."

"Why not?" His voice came out harsher than he meant it. But this was new territory to him, and whether he wanted to admit it or not it frightened him. "Nobody else seems to have a problem with it. So why not you too?"

Leonard let out a sigh. "I was seven. The first time my mother hit me. I don't even remember why, but I was upset, I was crying and even though she wanted me to, I couldn't get myself to stop. So she backhanded me. Her ring caught me, left a little cut. When my dad came home, I was afraid to get in trouble, I was afraid she would hit him too. So I lied about it. I told him I cut my cheek looking for my ball under a bush. Lies got harder to come up with as I got older, but by the time Jocelyn started taking swings at me I had dermal regen hidden in my office. It wasn't ever anything more than being slapped, but blood vessels in the face tend to be close to the surface, like your scalp, that's why head wounds bleed so much, and two hefty swings can leave a visible bruise. I know...it wasn't anything compared to what some people go through. But it was enough. I can't hit you. It's not I won't, I can't. I've been on the other side of that hand almost my whole life, and I can't do that to someone else. I- I can't."

Jim let out a heavy sigh and seemed to deflate. Leonard stepped forward to catch him. "I'm sorry," Jim said quietly. "This whole thing- I'm sorry."

Leonard nodded. "It's ok. I am too."

"No, I- I was the one-"

"Jim-"

"I'm sorry I shoved you."

"I forgive you, kid. Look. This is new to both of us. We're gonna screw up sometimes. We're gonna get mad and argue. But we're gonna have each other's backs too. We're gonna figure each other out, and...we're gonna get better. We're gonna have to if we're going through with this stupid three year plan of yours."

Jim's head snapped up. "We?"

"I'm gonna have to do some summer courses, a little extra work here and there, but I'm already licensed. I can make this work."

"Bones, I-" he shook his head in disbelief. "But you hate flying."

"I'm starting CBT therapy for that next week. I'll work my way up to exposure therapy from there. I need to anyway. With my luck, even if I found a ground position I'm sure some bizarre emergency situation would get me up there anyway. Might as well go with a friend," he shrugged.

"I- I honestly don't know what to say," Jim chuckled, almost giddy.

"Wow. James T. Kirk is speechless. This is a momentous occasion," Len teased with a grin.

"You really consider me a friend?"

"Yeah. I do." Jim stared blankly, trying to fully take in Len's words. The doctor rolled his eyes. "Come 'ere, kid." He pulled Jim into a sloppy hug and patted his back. He almost took a step back when he felt Jim's head rest against his shoulder.

"Thank you. For...all of this," Jim mumbled.

"You're welcome, kid."

Jim took a deep breath and stepped back. "I'm really sorry about- you didn't have to tell me all that."

"I needed you to understand though. I'm far from perfect, but that is one promise, I won't ever go back on. I don't know what kind of crap you've been through," he raised his hands, "that's your business and it's yours to decide who you talk to and when, that said, I will listen, I am here for you if you want. I don't know what you've been through, I need you to know that you are safe with me. I'm not going to ever raise a hand to you, Jim, I promise you. I know what it feels like to not be sure of someone, to not know, and I don't want you to ever have to question that. Not because of me."

"I believe you," Jim replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Good. Now. I don't know about you, but I'm wiped out. You up to grabbing dinner?"

"Yeah," Jim chuckled. "Yeah, sounds good. Hey, maybe after we can drop by the shuttle sims."

"Don't push it, kid," Bones warned as they walked from the dorm together.

[anxiously-going]

Day Eleven: Stitches

Star Trek AOS, post Into Darkness

“Thought you might like to see this.” Dr. McCoy offered the Captain a datapad.

“What is it?” Jim asked. He took the pad in exchange for a half filled glass of liquor.

“That would be Mr. Scott’s very clean bill of health signed by yours truly,” Len answered. He sat across from Jim and gave the younger man a minute to glance over the report. “The wound has been healed with no sign of infection at the point of injury or anywhere else in his body.”

“Good,” Jim sighed in relief. “Glad to hear it. Thanks, Bones.”

The doctor held up a finger. “I got somethin’ else for ya.” He pulled a thin box from his pocket and slid it across the desk to the captain. It almost looked like a travel tin of q-tips. “That should be a suitable replacement or the kit you used on Scotty. Those sutures weren’t half bad, Jim. It’s a crude method in general, but can’t argue they’re not effective.Which is why were have a few in stock.” Len watched Jim carefully in the silence that followed.

Jim turned the box over once before setting it down again. “Thanks, Bones, I appreciate it.”

“I’m not going to ask where you learned how to stitch someone up like that, I already have a guess about that. But I am gonna ask you: are you ok, kid?”

“Are you asking as Dr. McCoy or as Bones?”

Len raised a brow at the question. “There’s a difference?”

Jim smiled a little. Of course the good doctor couldn’t see the difference. So much of who he was was wrapped up in being a doctor, it was nigh impossible for him to separate himself from that identity. Jim could relate. “Dr. McCoy could have me removed from duty if he so sees fit depending on how I answer that question.”

Leonard nodded. “Well, lucky for Captain Kirk, because I can technically do that no matter what he says, I’m not asking the Captain. I’m asking Jim. Are you ok?”

“Answer my question first. Are you asking as my doctor or as my friend?”

“I’m asking,” Len answered with a sigh, “as your friend. A friend who happens to have a background in working with various forms a trauma, but who is also aware of his friends high pain tolerance, be it physical or otherwise. Jim, I want to help you,” he continued softly when Jim made no move to respond. “I know you’re not ok. I know you well enough that I can see that. But I know you can function that way still. I’ve seen you do it. And yeah, right now I’m concerned, but not enough to pull you from duty. That’s not something I would do lightly. I’m not expecting you to explain everything that’s goin’ on in your head right now, but I’d like to think I’ve earned your trust enough for you to at least be honest with me about where you’re at. At least that much. I can’t help you much if you don’t.”

“You’re right. You have earned that much.” Jim shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I know you wouldn’t pull the doctor card on me like that.”

“You were probably thinking that you already lost command once, and you don’t want that again,” Leonard offered. “I know what this ship means to you, Jim. I wouldn’t do anything that would endanger that, not unless you weren’t already doing that yourself.” Len smirked a little when Jim chuckled at his teasing. “Talk to me, kid. What’s goin’ on?”

Jim’s presence seemed to shift slightly and he grew somber. He stared almost vacantly at the floor. “Starting out,” he said slowly, “there were more than nine of us. There was another boy, closer to mine and Tom’s age and he cut his leg on some barbed wire one day. We scrounged for anything we could get hands on that would help him. One of the younger kids had found a sewing kit. Tom was… he didn’t have a strong stomach so he kept everyone busy while I did my best to stitch up Liam’s cut. The problem was it was just regular thread. So every time it broke, I had to redo the stitches. And for a little while he seemed to be getting better. Then one day he was sick. I went out to find…anything. And while I was out- I was coming back and-” Jim shrugged and his voice hitched. “I guess he knew I wouldn’t find anything and didn’t want to wait around getting sicker.”

Len moved around the desk and carefully pulled Jim into his arms. The younger mad huddled against him, as if looking for warmth, while he leaned against the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m sorry about your friend and everything you went through. But Scotty is gonna be ok. Closing up the wound like you did prevented infection. He’s healthy because you were there to help him. You did good today, Jim, and I’m proud of you.” Leonard fell silent for a moment, letting his words sink in before tightening his arms around Jim. “And I promise you’re safe now. Scotty is safe, and so are you. Everything is ok now. It’s over, Jim, you’re safe.”

[anxiously-going]

A Look in the Mirror

A small glimpse into the Mirrorverse

Leonard McCoy readjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder for the tenth time before punching in the code to his home for the next four years. The door slid open to reveal a simple living room with a kitchenette to one side with a short hallway that led to one of the two bedrooms and a bathroom, and a door in the opposite wall that led to another bathroom.

He had never particularly cared for the mild fame his family had had back home, but it certainly came with its privileges. Namely, getting more of an apartment than an ordinary dorm room. Even having to share the space wouldn't be so bad since there were separate bedrooms.

Len walked down the hallway to stake his claim on the back room. He hadn't been particularly eager to be at the Academy, but his mother had insisted and gone through all the effort to get him in on good standings, so turning up early to make sure he got the room he wanted was a small prize.

His bags hit the ground with a dull thud when the door closed behind him. He fell back against it with a small sigh.

So this was it. A bed sat in the middle of the room. To one side a closet, to the other a bathroom, and just at his elbow a dresser. His new home.

Vaguely he wondered how Jocelyn was enjoying her new home. An ache started in the middle of his chest and spread from there at the thought of her. He had tried convincing his mother that a simple life, in the family clinic, with a family of his own could be an honorable thing. Besides, he needed to be there for her. He couldn't leave her alone after his father's death.

But she would hear none of it. Her father and brothers had serviced in the Imperial fleet, and so would her son.

It was a shame that Jocelyn wasn't interested in long distance relationships. She'd handed him the divorce papers along with his acceptance letter into the Academy.

Len nearly fell backward when the door swished open behind him, but a pair of hands pushed him upright and held him steady.

"Guess I'm not the first one in the dorm."

Len turned to find his apparent roommate giving a lopsided smile and offering a hand, "James Kirk, Command."

"Leonard McCoy, Medical." He shook the young man's hand firmly.

"I guess you just got here too?" James asked gesturing to the bags on the ground.

"I did," Leonard confirmed. "But I'm not moving. And you're not in command yet so don't expect me to follow any kinda orders."

James chuckled. "That almost sounded believable. I'm gonna hold you to that 'yet' part though." He reeling his bag onto his shoulder and turned and walked away.

[anxiously-going]

@beauty-grace-outer-space, it's not the exact first fight prompt, but I've had this in my notebook a while. I haven't really done much with it because Jim is a little ooc at the start. But for a bit of context, Len was found unconscious on a hiking trail, dehydrated, and with no supplies of any kind.

Jim stormed into the room. "What were you thinking?" He demanded.

Len's tired smile fell away. "Excuse me?"

"They found you without any supplies, no water bottle, no food. What were you thinking? How stupid do you have to be-"

"I told the paramedics somebody took my stuff."

Jim snorted in disbelief. "Oh, right. Someone just 'took' your stuff while you were out and didn't think to call for help. Sure. That makes sense."

"I'm not an idiot. I took that blue water bottle with me. You don't believe me, go look for it. You won't find it because someone took it from me."

"You sure that bleeding heart of yours didn't just give it someone else, and then instead of going for another one, like an idiot, you just kept on going."

"Get out." Len's voice was tight and he gripped fist fulls of the blanket at his sides.

Jim seemed to snap out of a fog. "What?"

"Get out. Now. Before I call security. Just get out."

Jim numbly walked out of the hospital room. It was next to nothing for Bones to go on shouting about something when he was worked up, but this was different. Quiet and angry was not something Jim had ever seen before, part of him began to wonder if there was a way back from it. Dread and disgust twisted in his gut as the past few minutes settled into his mind. Maybe he didn't deserve a way back from it.

Len pressed a hand to his face before running it through his hair. He tried convincing himself that the tightness swelling under his sternum was because he was angry. And he was plenty angry. Angry at Jim for not believing him, for the things he had said, and the names he had called Len. He was angry at himself that it was bothering him so much. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it shouldn't matter if Jim thought him stupid. He had graduated high school a year early and jumped feet first into the world of medicine. Maybe he hadn't graduated within the top ten of his college graduating class, but he was among the younger students to graduate that year. He'd fought tooth and nail to be able to claim that.

He'd fought for it. Not like other students who seemed to breeze through the material like it was no challenge at all. Not like Jim.

At least at this point, he could blame his age. At twenty-seven he had almost eight years on the other two-year students.

At twenty-seven he should have been able to brush off such flippant insults as those Jim had offered up.

After all, he'd given Jim quite the scare. He'd be lying to say the incident hadn't left him shaken up. And sometimes people said things they didn't mean when they were afraid.

Other times high emotions led people to say outloud what they believed, but would not have normally said.

Len couldn't help but wonder which was the case here.

It shouldn't matter, he growled at himself. So what if Jim thought he was stupid, it wouldn't be any different from anyone else he went to school with who thought he was dumb for needing reviews or tutoring.

With an annoyed huff, Len realized that was the problem more than anything. If it was so easy for Jim to turn on him, to call him names, and berate and insult him, then he was really no different than anyone else in Len's life.

The thought hurt. Friends had never been an easy thing for Len to navigate, and it was rare that he had more than a few comfortable aquantences, or "work friends" which were entirely different from real friends in Len's book.

But if this was how Jim really was, then it would mean he had again failed in the area of having a friend, and Jim was just another comfortable aquantence. Of course after this, he doubted if they could even be comfortable with each other.

_____

Jim set down a package of oreos before seating himself across from Len.

"I'm sorry."

Len glanced over him carefully, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

"I shouldn've said the things I did. And I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I scared you," Len replied after a long moment. "You were right-"

"No, I wasn't, Bones. I had no right to say what I did. To call you things that I did. I don't..." Jim sighed. "I did something I swore I never would do. For a minute there I turned into my uncle. And yeah, you scared me and yeah, I was angry. But that's not an excuse. And I really am sorry for what I said. And I'm not trying to bribe you either," he gestured to the cookies. "I'm not- I'm not trying to buy your forgiveness or whatever. But I know these are your favorite and it's been a bad day. So I thought... maybe they would help. I don't want you to think that I'm trying cover it up or minimize what I did by trying to give you something. I know I messed up, and I really meant it when-"

Leonard stopped him with hand on his arm. "Thank you."

"I'm really sorry, Bones."

"And I really believe you, kid. And I really forgive you."

"Thanks," Jim mumbled. He glanced at the oreos again. "I hope those were ok. I wasn't- I didn't want you to think-"

"Jim," Len cut in gently, "I understand. I woulda done the same thing. And then had the exact same problem. So, I get it."

Jim gave a sad sort of smile at that. "We're a mess, aren't we?"

"Coping with abuse usually is that way," Len agreed. "But we're ok. We will be ok."

[anxiously-going]

Hey hey hey so consider: me getting you started on the rocky road that led to the absolute lack of personal space between Jim and Bones because I read your tags and now I NEED IT (but no pressure, of course)

Hey! So I do have a fic in the works for this, I swear, but all of it that answers this question would need to be tagged anyway, so I feel I can answer without spoilers as far as plot line goes. That said, it is stuff that would need to be tagged, so consider this a heads up there are mentions of abuse, ABA/ableism, and discussion of dubious consent here below. 

So to start this off, I headcanon Len as being autistic. If you’d like specifics, I try to tag the posts where I discuss those traits as #autistic leonard mccoy 

This is an important place to start because I also have this headcanon that his mother was very ableist, and very much hung up on the appearance of having a perfect family, having an autistic child didn’t fit in with that which led to Len being placed in ABA therapy. If you don’t know what that is, when you boil it down it comes to a therapy intended to make autistic people indistinguishable from neurotypicals. 

Part of this means things like punishing natural autistic traits such as stimming because it’s seen as “weird” or “not normal” or whatever. All around, just a bad deal. And again, kind of boiling it down (Because I could ramble for days about about Len’s autism) Len grew up being told, essentially that he was never good enough. Part of my canon is that his mother tried to talk him out of becoming a doctor because she didn’t think he was actually capable of it due to being autistic. 

Second very important piece, Sensory Processing Disorder. It’s very frequently tied in with autism, and, you guessed it, Len’s got it. Trying to keep it relevant to the discussion at hand, Len tends toward being tactile sensitive particularly in stressful situations, meaning more aware physical touch.

When he’s overwhelmed light touches can be overloading sending him into a sensory overload and or shutdown. (And lemme tell ya, sensory overload plus anxiety is not  a fun mix. It is a very special brand on anxiety)

Going back to “never being good enough” that, plus the sensory difficulties was something of a recipe for disaster. Because after a certain point of not being able to be good enough for certain people, there develops a need to be good enough for anybody. 

Enter Jocelyn and the matter of dubious consent. Because she had tendency to prey on that need to finally be “good enough” and to “please” someone and talked him into things that, because of the Sensory Processing Disorder, that were uncomfortable and overwhelming and flat out scary. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he did it anyways trying to be “enough”. Which led to a boat load of trauma he did not recognize as abuse because he had “agreed” to it. 

(Side note: I say “dubious”, but really, it wasn’t something he wanted, that makes it rape. And if you, anyone, finds themself in a situation/relationship where you are not comfortable with what’s going on run, just get out and run, please. Making someone else happy is not worth your health- mental or physical. You are enough as you are and if the person you are with cannot or will not see that then run away from them, please. COERCION IS NOT CONSENT, THAT IS NOT UP FOR DEBATE. COERCION IS NOT CONSENT.) 

Heavy discussion aside, I have said many times that if there is one thing Jim Kirk is good at it is picking out abuse survivors. Which is exactly what he did with Len. 

So it’s basically universally accepted that Jim went through serious physical abuse, and to that Tarsus and you have yourself a little bundle of trauma. The thing is though, Jim is very aware of his trauma. Len? Not so much. 

Because of all of the above, Len was fairly touch averse when he and Jim first met and it was just this slow progression of him slowly figuring out that what he went through was abuse. This was all helped along by Jim, who on more that one occasion, flat out told him something he had experienced was wildly un-ok. 

And there was this little bit of Len wanting to help Jim, and a bit of Jim helping him that he figured out that Jim was ok, and he wasn’t going to hurt him, and he could give Jim hugs and Jim wouldn’t expect anymore of him, and Jim would respect whatever boundary he set, even when he said “not right now” there was no pressure from Jim about “when?” He could tell Jim “no” about even just putting his hand on Len’s arm and Jim would listen. 

It was still a journey, but eventually he learned that Jim would always listen. And eventually it became that when Len did need physical comforting, did need a hug or whatever it was He could go to Jim for that and he knew he would be safe. He knew he wouldn’t be expected to repay whatever physical affection. He learned he could trust Jim with his body. 

(Further side note? I don’t really ship McKirk, um, don’t really write them as being an item romantically. I’ve kind of always viewed it more along the lines of a qpr. They definitely have a relationship unto themselves, but it’s not one that I view or write romantically) 

That got really long, sorry about that, but I hope it answered your question, and always feel free to shoot me another one.  

[anxiously-going]

Day Ten: Unconscious

Star Trek AOS Mirror!Verse (continued from Day Nine: Shackled) 

Christine stood by, hypospray in hand, and awaited orders. She understood the Captain's hesitation, Dr. McCoy would be in a fair deal of physical pain when she woke him up, to say nothing of the shock of realizing his eye was gone.

She liked McCoy a great deal more than she had liked Puri. McCoy understood how essential the work of a nurse was to the work of a doctor, and to that end he had treated her as his equal in many ways. His second in command to their little domain in the medical wing. With that in mind, she wanted to let him be, let him rest, even if it was by means of sedation. But she was also familiar enough with the doctor to know that he was not one to drag things out. If something needed doing or saying, he very often preferred the "band aid approach", getting it over with quickly and in one fell swoop.

"What are your orders, Captain?" She prompted.  

Jim sighed. "Wake him up."

Christine nodded and injected the stimulant. "I suggest not keeping him awake for too long. He'll heal faster if he's asleep."

"I suppose this is your medical opinion, Nurse Chapel, and not simply trying to avoid him being in pain?"

Christine nodded. She had become well versed in the charade of saying things to avoid implications that might be questioned by the Empire. The Empire would frown upon using medical resources to keep a patient sedated merely to keep them out of excessive pain. To them, it was enough to keep it a tolerable level. To them, suffering was essential. It weeded out the weak.

So Christine took care how she worded things. It was in the best interest of the ship that the CMO make a swift recovery, and if it was her opinion as medical professional that that was best done by keeping the CMO sedated then that is what her report would reflect. The Captain's tired question was a formality of his position and nothing more. He wanted to avoid McCoy's needless pain as much as Christine did. But they had to stay practiced in their charade should admiralty ever pay them a visit.

"I have no reason to spare him any pain," Christine said, her voice flat, betraying no emotion either way.

"Good," the Captain replied in a similar tone, both knowing neither meant what they were saying. "Glad we cleared that up."

McCoy finally began to stir, and the Captain softened. "You're safe, Bones," he assured gently. He sat on the bed and took Leonard's hand. "It's ok, I got you."

"Wha' happened?" Len slurred, in the early stages of consciousness. His breath caught in his throat. "Something's wrong. I can't see right."

He tried to touch his face, but Jim caught his hand.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I couldn't get out fast enough. I couldn't get to you. I'm so sorry."

"Jim, what's wrong with me?" Len's voice shook with trepidation.

"They took your eye."

The color drained away from the doctor's face. "What?" He couldn't breath. He couldn't- he pulled his hand from Jim's and reached to his face again. Jim caught his hand again.

"Don't. We can't risk an infection."

"I want to see."

Christine cast a questioning glance to Jim, waiting for him to nod before holding out a mirror.

Leonard froze at the sight. Half his face was bound in clean, white bandages. They had been carefully placed so as not to cover his still existing right eye. He shook his head. It was wrong. That couldn't be him. Pressure swelled in his chest and he threw the mirror. It smashed against the opposing, and he tore his hands away from Jim, reaching to yank the bandages from his face.

Chapel acted quickly snatching the hand nearest her and pulling out the restraint at the bedside.

"Don't!" The Captain barked. He had Leonard's other arm effectively pinned between his own body and McCoy's. "Under no circumstances are you to use those restraints against him," he order over McCoy's cries.

"Yessir." When the captain had a firm hold on the arm, she set to work prepping another hypo. McCoy thrashed under his hold. He was going to be taken away. He couldn't be a doctor anymore and they would take him away. He was useless now. The Empire would take him away and they would find out. They would find out and heaven only knew what they would do to him then.

If Jim hadn't felt guilty before he did now. He hated this. He hated having to physically restrain Leonard from hurting himself. Even if kept McCoy from further injury, he knew the restraint itself was also painful. He could see little choice, however, as he watched Leonard repeatedly slam his head back into the pillow.

Christine finally swooped in, quickly jabbing Leonard with another hypo. The effect was almost instantaneous, and Jim felt him go limp under his hold. He carefully loosened his grip and brushed back Leonard's hair as he fought the drugs.

"It's gonna be ok," he murmured. "I'm gonna protect you."

"Shock often manifests in aggressive behavior," Christine said gently when McCoy was finally out. "Especially emotional shock. It's not uncommon in patients facing such life altering injuries."

Jim nodded slowly. Shock. Not a meltdown. Shock. Shock would be acceptable for the reports. "Thank you for your insight, Nurse Chapel. I trust your report will reflect that?"

"Of course, Captain."

"Thank you." Jim let out a sigh. "He's bleeding again."

"I'll take care of him," Christine promised.

Jim nodded and ran a hand through Leonard's hair. He wanted to apologize. To let Bones know that he would keep him safe. That he wouldn't let anyone take him away.

It would have to wait.

For now Jim had to step back and let Christine do her work.

He bent and left a kiss on Leonard's forehead before leaving him in medbay in blissful unconsciousness.