Switch: Epilogue

[ceres_libera]

Title: "Switch: Epilogue"
Author: ceres_libera
Rating: R
Summary: The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense.
Canon: Based in the ST:XI universe, but strongly influenced by all canon ST-verses.
Characters: McCoy/Kirk, with eventual appearances by all other ST:XI characters.
Notes: My friends, it's been an incredible journey. Thank you all for encouraging and challenging me throughout it. This whole experience has been a joy for me -- even as verbose as I am, I'll never be able to adequately sum it up.

I'll be going back to edit and clean-up the previous 50 parts, before I undertake the writing of a post-lude story.

Heck, I'm even kicking around an idea of another story (set in the Switch-verse) from Jim's perspective. Any ideas?

P.S. Those of you who have volunteered to edit this monster? Give me a week or so to put in the edits I already have before you start. (Any and all input welcome, by the way.)

P.P.S. mintcloud? I hope that you'll belay those threats of violence, since I did as you asked!

P.P.S. Semi-final word and page counts? Oh, about 231,420 words, and 453 pages for meewunk to roll around in. Until I finish editing, that is.

P3.S. Whoops! Sorry for the cut-fail!



+

Leo was checking the PADDs on his desk against the list on his console to ensure that he had done all the necessary paperwork, when the comm unit built into his desk bleeped. He depressed the button immediately.

"Damn it, Jim," he said, "you better not be telling me that there's gonna be any delay."

Jim's laughter rang out in his office, echoing through it and beyond into the half-lit and patient-less Sickbay.

"A little eager are we, Bones?" Jim asked teasingly.

"Yes, Jim," Leo said testily. "Especially since I know how pathologically attached to this tin can you are."

"Bones," Jim said in a reproving tone, "She can hear you talking about her, you know."

"You better be talking about Uhura monitoring comms," Leo shot back, "and not anthropomorphizing the ship again."

"Lieutenant Uhura is currently on Starbase 14 with Lieutenant Gaila," Jim said, doing his best imitation of the computer's location report. Because Jim couldn't see him, Leo smiled at his godawful imitation of the cool, feminine voice. "… buying bikinis in the beachwear shop," Jim continued.

"Your First Officer clearly isn't anywhere nearby," Leo said, eyes flicking back and forth from his console to the stack of PADDs.

"In my Ready Room?" Jim asked in a mockingly scandalized tone. "What kind of boy do you think I am?"

Leo raised an eyebrow.

"I can almost hear that, Bones," Jim said in an intimate voice.

He sniffed expressively. "Is there a point to this call? Other than you telling me that you've got to delay our leave?"

"Bones," Jim said, and there was a warning there, despite the warmth. "What did I say about leave?"

Leo raised his head again, but this time didn't bother to control the soft smile that broke over his face. "You promised," he said quietly, turning around in his chair to look behind his desk.

"I did," Jim said lightly, and Leo felt a pang at his falsely sunny tone, then brightened when Jim's voice got progressively warmer as he said. "Purple sand and weirdly blue waters, Bones. Sunshine. Fruity drinks. Other surprises. You. Me. Ten minute warning, Bones. Meet me in the transporter room so I can help you carry all your crap. I'll be the one wearing flip flops. Kirk out."

Leo sighed, but this time with longing. Damn, but that sounded good, especially after six months of recycled air and artificial sunlight. Even if the sunlight was alien, he was ready for it – past ready, honestly. He tossed the stylus onto his desk and stood up, his eye drawn to the framed parchment on his wall, and he smiled. Jim and his promises.

Leo had worried and obsessed over the possibility that he and Jim would be posted at the opposite ends of the universe, refusing to hope, much less count on, them both being on the Enterprise until it was an absolute certainty. But even then, even after he'd gotten the comm that he'd been waiting for, longing for, some element of pessimism remained -- the neurotic vestige of not getting what he wanted, or having what he wanted turn out to be not right after all -- so that morning, he had doubted and worried about a mistake having been made.

He had expressed none of this to Jim, because, well, if Jim realized how much of a crazy person he truly was, he'd surely have those orders revoked, before he ran as far away as he could get, say, to the other end of the universe.

But Jim … Jim, who knew him better than any other person in the universe, and loved him anyway ... Jim knew exactly what he needed.

Jim had been waiting for him that April morning, just a couple of days before their sad and early commencement, while Leo had his final meeting with his thesis advisor.

"Here," he'd said, thrusting a slim, flat parcel wrapped in brown paper at Leo.

Leo'd opened it curiously, grumbling at the waste and expense of paper, while Jim had rolled his eyes and shifted impatiently from foot to foot, his brow furrowed. But by the time that Leo had turned over the item and comprehended what it was, Jim's expression had transmogrified into one of such sunny beauty that Leo'd blamed the tears in his eyes on the glare from his smile, while Jim had chuckled and rubbed the back of Leo's neck, pressing their foreheads together.

The framed orders for Lieutenant Commander Leonard H. McCoy, M.D., Ph.D. to report to the USS Enterprise as her Chief Medical Officer had been printed on thick, old-fashioned matte paper, and signed by Admirals Barnett and Pike, as well as the Chief Medical Officer of the Fleet, Philip Boyce. The seals of their respective offices had been embossed below their signatures.

Leo knew, rationally, that there was nothing about the framed orders that made them any more real, any more true than what he'd already received electronically, but there was something oddly more permanent in the tangible object. It was counter-intuitive, really. The databits that made up the order in his e-mail could be retrieved virtually forever, even if erased. The paper orders would degrade and fade and ultimately crumble to dust. And yet, it'd been the first thing that he put in his carry-on bag for the Enterprise, and the first item that he'd put up on his walls here in Sickbay.

And he'd damned well dragged Jim off into a deserted classroom for a more proper thank you than a chaste press of foreheads, although he'd saved a more detailed thank you for that night when they were alone in his old dorm room. After all, Gram had always raised him to mind his manners, and to show appropriate appreciation.

Leo smiled as he ran a finger along the frame, then blew a bit of dust off the orders as well as his favorite holo on the shelf below it. In that image, Jim was smiling warmly at a behind-the-camera Gram, his arm swung over Leo's shoulders with casual possession. Leo was smiling, too, despite the mixed emotions that had been part and parcel of that day, and the commencement ceremony itself. His black armband was out of view behind Jim's back, but Jim's was clearly visible, the last day that they'd worn their reds -- together like they'd been that very first day.

"Leonard Horatio," a voice said from behind him. "You're daydreaming again."

Leo smiled and turned around, then whistled, low and admiring at the sight in front of him. "My, my Christine Marie," he said, raising an eyebrow at the brightly colored cloth that she'd wrapped around her body. "A sarong?"

Chapel's bare white shoulders gleamed as she shrugged. "Nyota talked me into it," she said, and there was a note of diffidence in her voice that gave Leo pause.

He wasn't quite sure what had happened, or might still be happening, between her and Pike, but he knew poor timing when he saw it. Nyota had told him, perched on the counter in the shared bathroom between the Captain and First Officer's quarters, that the comms between Christine and the Admiral had become fewer and farther between as their months away from Earth had begun to pile up. Leo had been sorry to hear it, but not truly surprised. Hell, long distance relationships were hard enough when people were on the same planet -- he couldn't imagine what kind of strain would be put on a relationship that was just burgeoning when a whole galaxy lay between the participants. God knows he'd had his fears about what it would do to him and Jim. He'd been hoping that maybe Admiral Pike would make the trip out to Starbase 14 for their shore leave to Rosettia, but Uhura had told him that she hadn't seen his name on any manifest.

Leo smiled at Christine, trying not to convey any of the disappointment that he felt for her. "She's good at that," he said. "Although I, for one, am having a hard time picturing Spock frolicking in the waves of Rosettia's equatorial beaches."

Christine laughed out loud at the very idea, clapping her hand over her mouth, and bending in two as her giggles escalated.

"What?" Leo asked, smirking.

"I can't actually picture him in anything other than his uniform, with the boots and everything -" Christine choked out, "—in the water."

"Highly illogical for a bathing costume," Leo agreed laughingly, but now that she mentioned it, he couldn't picture Spock in a bathing suit either, particularly not the kind of tiny trunks that Jim preferred. He shifted his posture and clipped his tone. "Perhaps one of those striped woolen one-piece bathing costumes from the early 1900s on Terra would suit?"

Christine flapped her hands at him in a shooing gesture as she wiped at her eyes and tried not to crack up anew. "Oh my God! Thanks, McCoy –- I'm going to need a LOT of booze to get that image out of my head."

Leo was grinning at her as he relaxed his pose. "Well, now, darlin', I believe that you and I have a long overdue date for a drink that we will have to fulfill sometime in the next week."

"You got it," Christine said warmly. "I'll comm you, and we'll figure something out, but I better get going before Scotty has an apoplexy." She waved and then hurried through the doors as Leo called his good-byes.

He'd become a bit more acquainted with her story as they'd served together these past few months. He was glad that she'd broken her engagement off to that damned fool rapscallion who didn't deserve her, but he wondered at her willingness to put herself in seemingly impossible situations with men like that Korby, or Pike.

Ah, well. Jim would tell him to stop trying to solve everyone else's problems, but he couldn't help but worry.

Christine was good people – he'd known from the first hour they'd served together that she was just his kind of medical professional –- and, anyway, despite his own mordant proclivities, he really did like people to be happy. And he did worry about the Enterprise's crew, especially after all that they'd been through together. Hell, there wasn't anyone else to worry about their psychological wellbeing, Jim aside. Professionally, he worried at the evidence that he saw of post-traumatic shock among many of his crewmates, going untreated except for his own paltry ad hoc efforts, what with the ship's counselor post vacant again. Their original counselor had died in the Battle of Vulcan along with Dr. Puri and so many others, and Jim had yet to find the right person to fill the post. Leo had a sneaking suspicion that he was waiting for Patty to finish qualifying, but he had proved maddeningly difficult to pin down on the subject.

He did know that Starfleet's original prospect for the role had spent far too much time focusing on Jim, his childhood and Tarsus for his taste, much less Jim's, and that had been before they shipped out. There had been some blowback at Jim's refusal to accept the leading candidate, but Pike had backed Jim as always, especially after both Leo and Ambassador Selek, of all people, had advocated for a different choice. He had no idea how the elder Spock had insinuated himself so easily into Starfleet's upper echelons, but he had, and had provided a staunch ally throughout the process of reassembling the crew, including somehow, Leo was certain, ensuring that the younger version of himself was on the Enterprise.

He shook his head as he mused, methodically checking things off on his list. Six months aboard and Leo found himself in the odd position of still liking the older variant of Spock more than he did the one from his own universe and time. He supposed that was too simplistic. He did correspond with the Ambassador, and found him surprisingly easy to talk to on the occasional videocomm, but his relationship with the younger Spock had improved. For one thing, he was a damned good First Officer, and there was no getting around that fact. He tempered Jim's impulsivity in good ways, but he seemed to be learning when to give in and trust Jim's judgment. For another, well … there was the fact that he'd saved Jim's life a time or two, which couldn't help but raise Spock in Leo's judgment. And then, of course, there was proximity. Let's face it, with he and Jim most often bunking in the Captain's cabin, and Spock and Uhura doing the same in the XO's, bumping into each other in the shared bathroom facilities was bound to happen. It had, in fact, become Leo and Nyota's favorite place to gossip, much to Jim's amusement, and Spock's chagrin.

Leo had to admit that he found Spock's territorial displays, as understated as they were, both oddly endearing and hysterical. The man was fussy and prim and seriously, sometimes he did wonder what Uhura saw in him, but … "Truth really is stranger than fiction," he said aloud, as he powered down his console. Because he had no doubt that the Vulcan would snap his neck if ever so much as laid one finger on Uhura in a way he deemed inappropriate.

Leo picked up his bags and walked across the bay, ordering the lights off, a spring in his step as he strode through the empty halls on his way to the transporter room. He only hoped that the next six months of their five-year mission would go as smoothly as the first six had. It's not that there hadn't been skirmishes or casualties, just that it had gone better than he expected, and barring the occasional disastrous away mission, Jim and the ship had gotten them out of more jams than into them. He made a wish for their continued safety and pressed it into the Enterprise's skin as he rounded a corner, running a hand along her warm walls, and hoping that she'd persist in keeping them out of harm's way -- especially as the next six months would bring them ever closer to the hotter sections of the Neutral Zone.

If only Jim could see him now, he thought with a wry smile, but there was no one around to observe him, and the Enterprise would guard his secret, he was sure. As much as he teased Jim about anthropomorphizing the ship, he'd never have trusted being posted on another –- the Enterprise had risen to the challenge of their first mission, served beyond her capacity just like the rest of them. About this one thing, he did believe Ambassador Spock: yes, they belonged together in the stars, all of them, with Jim at the helm, but they belonged on the Enterprise.

The doors to the transporter room whisked open to reveal Jim chatting with Scotty about the upgrades that the ship was slated to receive while they were docked. Jim smiled as Leo entered, but raised his eyebrows mockingly as he looked at Leo's small carry-on and larger duffel "You had Scotty beam down all your stuff already, didn't you?" he asked drily.

Leo smiled and got up on the transporter pad. "Scotty," he drawled, "I hope we're going to see you planetside."

"Oh, aye," Scotty said easily, so charmingly affable that one would be hard-pressed to know that he was lying, but Leo had already played too much poker with the man to be fooled. "Although more likely at night, as I have a tendency to burn under such strong UV."

Jim's eyebrows were sky-high at Scotty's declaration, and he looked like he was going to say something until Leo said," Are you coming or what, Jim? Sunlight's wasting, kid." He raised a brow at Jim's decidedly regulation footwear and Jim smirked as he came over to the transporter pad.

"You didn't expect me to actually wear sandals with my uniform, did ya, Bones?" he asked in a low voice.

"Such a sartorial choice would be illogical," Leo intoned with a flat expression as Jim chuckled. He turned back to Scotty as Jim made sure that their bags were on the pads correctly. "I can fix that sun sensitivity, Scotty," he said.

"I'll comm ye about that very thing," the Scot lied easily, and then said, "Energizing, Captain."

When they rematerialized from the swirling white whirl of the transporter beam, they were facing a clear wall that gave them a spectacular view of the sea at the base of the promontory on which they'd been deposited. Jim whistled next to him in appreciation. Clearly, these Rosettians knew a little something about interplanetary tourism and presentation. The view was glorious, the colors of the ocean and the flora absolutely dazzling, but to Leo, they were nothing to Jim's bright eyes as he stood next to him, gleaming with happiness.

"C'mon, Bones," he said eagerly, slinging bags over his shoulder and Leo's, then grabbing his hand and pulling him outside of the transporter station.

The air felt incredibly humid after the modulated air of the ship, and there was a scent in it that reminded Leo of freesias, with an undernote of the metallic tang of the water. Leo took in a deep breath as the breeze ruffled his hair the minute they stepped outside. "I do believe that your Chief Engineer is intending to engage in some sort of indecent liaison with your ship while we're all ashore, Jim," he drawled.

"La la la," Jim sang, fishing in his bag for something. "I can't hear you, Bones!"

"Keptin!"

Jim laughed next to him and Leo turned to see their favorite curly-haired menace behind the wheel of some sort of overgrown golf cart wearing what looked like a Hawaiian shirt on steroids.

"Oh my," Leo drawled, as Chekov waved energetically as they strolled over to the cart.

Jim flashed him a smile before he popped on some UV-polarizing glasses, hiding his dancing blue eyes from Leo's view. "Pavel," he said, "thanks for coming to pick us up, man." His smile got even larger as he went to pile their bags in the back compartment. "Why, it seems there are already some bags in here –- how interesting!"

Leo tossed his duffel at Jim with no comment and climbed into the front seat, strapping himself in and stowing his small bag at his feet. A man needed his medical supplies when he was going into an alien environment. He wasn't going to justify it.

"Bones!" Jim protested.

"You didn't call shotgun, Captain," he said. "So get your ass in the back."

Chekov was enthusiastically declaiming about the wonders of the hotel and the planet in general, despite its lack of Russian-ness, driving one-handed and pointing out some of the flora that Sulu was already documenting, so he failed to notice when Jim mouthed, "You love my ass," to Leo when he turned to make sure that Jim was buckled in as they took a hairpin turn.

Leo smiled, pleased as ever at the flush that spread up Jim's neck when he caught sight of it, before he turned back and let the sunlight and the fresh air wash over him.

+

One rose-colored moon had risen high above the horizon, and the other was just beginning to peek over the south-east horizon in the dark mauve night sky. Leo stood on the deck outside the small club, catching a breath of fresh air while the music pulsed behind him. He'd been surprised that Jim had arranged their lodgings so far away from the main hotel at the resort, and most of the crew, but now, after three full days of uninterrupted time with Jim, he was more than happy. It wasn't that they had no private time together aboard the Enterprise, but here he got Jim's undivided attention whether they were swimming in the violently colorful sea, or swinging in a hammock, or his personal favorite, soaking in the tub out on their deck. Their rooms were out on a point of a deep cove, a good twenty-minute ride from the rest of the resort, and they had yet to travel back since they'd been dropped off. There were shops and restaurants out here, and although Leo had shopped a bit, it wasn't until he mentioned that he'd yet to get one of the fruity drinks that Jim had promised that they'd decided to forego dinner in their room and walked over to the club -- really a series of tented structures with the sides pulled up -- that was nestled in the middle of the cove. By day, it was the kind of place that you could swim up to and order a drink or lunch, both of which Jim and he had done, when the reddish-tinged sun overhead had gotten too fierce.

It became more temperate at night, although a good three hours after sundown, it was still close to 30 degrees C, and sticky. Just like home. Leo smiled as he rolled the sleeves of his loose-woven white overshirt up over forearms already turned brown. The thin material reminded him of linen, but it didn't rumple no matter what, which he found delightful. And it breathed like linen, allowing him to feel the cooling breezes swirling around his legs through the weave of the taupe pants that he'd chosen.

"I still say that you shouldn't have worn that outside of our room," Jim said from behind him, extending an arm with a drink in it.

Leo took the offering and sniffed at it, looking at Jim in surprise. "Mint julep?" he asked, taking a sip.

Jim shook his head, hair brightened by the sun bristling in a halo backlight by the club behind him. "Not exactly," he said apologetically, "but I tried."

Leo took a more generous sip. "It's not bad at all, Jim," he said. "Thanks."

Jim smiled, white teeth flashing against sun-reddened lips. "I mean, you look kind of naked."

Leo rolled his eyes at Jim, who was wearing a t-shirt and jeans so tight that certain attributes of his were easily discernable. They'd already had this discussion back in their room when Jim had realized that Leo was going commando. It wasn't like he was being immodest –- he'd checked, and nothing other than Jim's fervid imagination was currently on display. Not to mention the fact that Jim was also commando, and probably sweating, in his jeans. "Pot," he grumbled, then turned back to look at the water when Jim exclaimed.

"When did they start?" he asked with shining eyes, resting his sharp chin on Leo's shoulder.

"Just now, evidently," Leo drawled, watching as the flying fish began their elaborate mating ritual, their bioluminescent fins illuminating the water above and below as they cut in and out of it. Several of the clubgoers moved out onto the deck to join them and watch one of Rosettia's chief tourist attractions, and Jim pressed in even closer to Leo as they watched in relative silence except for the alien tongues being spoken in hushed tones around them. Jim and Leo watched the dance until most of the crowd had dissipated, until the second moon rose to a height that its light, combined with that of the first moon, obscured the pale fire below the water, and the fish stilled.

Jim sighed, one arm across Leo's chest, still holding him close. He took a deep breath in and out as Leo finished the last of his drink. "Can we dance now?" he asked in a low voice, kissing Leo's neck.

Leo laughed, turning his head to catch Jim's mouth before they switched positions. This time, Jim was in front, leading them back into the club, into the heat and the swirl of the somewhat less elegant humanoid mating rituals. While they'd been out on the deck, the lights in the club had been turned to black, making their white shirts gleam in a pallid imitation of the bioluminescent show that had just ended. He laughed again when he noticed that some of the beings dancing around them had painted their skin with runes and swirls designed to show up under the black lights as they preened and displayed.

Jim turned his head and grinned, knowing what Leo was thinking without being told. Leo tipped forward and kissed the laugh lines around Jim's eyes, wrapping his hands around Jim's narrow hips as he steered them through the gyrating mass of bodies, looking for a little bit of space to call their own. Leo felt loose and open, slightly drunk from the alien liquor, but mostly from the freedom. Right here, right now, they weren't Captain and Doctor, nor the heroes of the free universe, carrying the weight of all those expectation on their shoulders. Right now, they were just Jim and Bones, lovers and friends, and he could have this, dance with Jim like this, because they had fought their way through the darkness, built this trust over years, and hardship, and the bodies of the dead.

The music throbbed around them and Jim was bouncing to the beat, his hips undulating as he kept time, navigating through the dance. Watching Jim, feeling the life pulsing in him like the beat shivering around them, Leo could feel the looks they were getting, the greedy looks that Jim's bright beauty always drew, like moths to a flame. Some primal part of him wanted to snarl and posture and make it clear that Jim was his, so they could all fuck off, because they'd goddamned missed their chance … but then Jim's hips were turning in his hands, so he made himself loosen his caveman's grip, just enough so that Jim could turn and wrap his arm around Leo's shoulders, his other hand coming up to frame Leo's jawline as he kissed Leo once, fleeting and sweet but possessive too, with that arm hooked behind his head to keep him in place.

But Leo smiled, not the least bit perturbed by Jim's ownership display, despite the sticky heat of the tropical dance floor. He ran his hands up from Jim's hips to his shoulder blades and back down again, all the while thinking, 'mine, mine, mine' in time with the pounding music.

Jim's expression was intent as he nudged Leo's head to the side so that he could speak right into his ear. "I think we should go back to our room," he said, and there was an edge of menace to his voice, "because I swear to God, Bones, I will knock somebody the fuck out if they try to cut in and take you away from me."

And Leo laughed, throwing his head back as he pulled Jim in closer and said, "Kid, it ain't me they want," before he kissed him, pulling that maddeningly undulating pelvis flush against his, right where it belonged.

When they broke apart, he realized that Jim had been dancing him backward, navigating them across the crowded dance floor to the open side of the tent where the footpaths that led up the coastline were. Away from the noise of the club, Jim pushed him back against one of the tent poles, holding Leo's face in both of his hands as he said, "Whatever, Bones. I spend my days negotiating with all sorts of beings –- I know when someone wants what I have."

He pressed a kiss against Leo's astonished mouth.

"No deal." Jim's eyes made all sorts of wicked promises before he gathered Leo's hand up in his.

Then he turned away and pulled a smiling Leo after him along the starlit path of an alien shore, leading them back home.

Fin.