kirktastic | [A Stupid Hot Mess] -- [Kirk and Bones]

Bones headed toward the location he'd been given, stopping in front of the door. He hated this, hated that he had to do this, hated that Kirk was putting him in the position of being the bad guys here.

But he had to do this, Bones reminded himself, hitting the code given to him and entering the room.

He walked over to where Kirk was already seated. "Hey," he said quietly, sitting down in a chair across from Kirk.

"...hey." It wasn't the normal warm tone he usually had around Bones. Kirk looked to him then across to the wall, leaning back in his chair. He hated psychs and everything they stood for, at least when he came to HIS world.

They tried to get under your skin and believe that they understood. They couldn't. Not even Bones.

"You ready to get started?" Bones asked, pulling out his datapad. Kirk wanted informal, but it would probably be best, at least at first, for Bones to remain as clinical as possible, just to get the ball rolling.

He was under no illusions that Kirk was going to talk about any of this on his own, not without a fight.

"Can I say no and leave?"

"You could," Bones answered slowly, tapping into his PADD. "But then we'd have to do this again sometime. Why not just get it done now?" he countered, looking at Kirk with a calm expression.

This wasn't Bones. Kirk knew it instantly, the very second it happened. That calm, level tone scared the fuck out of him. This was Doctor McCoy, the thing George was talking about. It was like suddenly learning his best friend and lover had another person in him. "Don't." Kirk snapped, venom in his tone, "Don't you dare do that to me."

His fingers tightened. He could remember a woman staring at him, using that same voice, trying to ask him questions he couldn't hear.

"Okay," Bones said, noting the change in Kirk. "Okay, fine. We can just talk then." Bones settled into his chair, crossing his legs in front of him so that he could resist the urge to reach out and nudge Kirk with one of his feet.

Couldn't do that, not yet.

"There are some questions I need to ask you, Jim, and I need you to answer them to the best of your ability." He looked up, the expression on Kirk's face one of despondence. Fuck... "Can you do that for me, Jim?" his voice softer.

"...yea." He muttered the word, feeling like shit. He flexed his hand twice, eyes closing as it twinged. Figures, it wouldn't hurt for days and now it was. Just. Great.

Bones began tapping the datapad softly. "Okay," he said, looking back up at Kirk. "Can you recall the events of- "

Bones stopped, knowing that the clinical route wasn't going to work with Kirk; he wasn't his father, and needed some sort of emotional support to get through this, however unprofessional it ended up being.

"Tell me what happened out there," Bones murmured, putting the PADD down on the chair next to him. "Tell me how you ended up on that ship."

"Walked out of sickbay, felt my dad put his hand on my shoulder, and we got transported. I woke up later." The tone he took was clipped, sharp, and distinctly unhappy. Distancing himself from his own words.

"Where were you when you woke up?"

Where the fuck do you think I woke up? Kirk had to fight the urge to keep from saying it. "Cargo bay, maybe. Crates everywhere." With my dad strapped down to a table, covered in blood, screaming.

His hand flexed again.

"Jim," Bones answered with a sigh, "tell me about it. Tell me what happened to you over there."

"What the fuck do you think happened over there?" Kirk's fingers tightened sharply.

"I couldn't tell you, you haven't said shit about it to me," Bones retorted. "I know what I saw, you pretty sliced up." Bones took a deep breath. "So why don't you clue me in then."

"They tortured us. I figured you were a fucking doctor, you could figure that out. They wanted the codes for the ship. George didn't know them and I didn't give them."

I hope.

Bones let the remark slide, though he raised an eyebrow at Kirk. "Tell me about the tattoos," he said with a sigh. "You showed them to me before."

His hand throbbed. "S'all in Romulan. Names of his dead crew, himself, his second. Stories about them. ...Mine, too. He decided that I couldn't forget if it was in my skin."

"What kind of stories?" Bones asked, curious. He had noticed the fidgeting with Kirk's fingers. "What is wrong with your hand?" he wondered, moving to sit next to Kirk, picking the hand up gently and looking at it closer.

When his hand was captured, it jerked. The jerk was strong enough to almost pull his hand free of Bones' grip, but remained just within the touch of fingers at the last moment. "It's fine." He half-muttered, but tried to remember.

Was hard to forget, tattooed right there on his skin. He looked over at his right hand, free now, and muttered, "Right arm's entirely about Oren and Ael. Nero.. and Ayel."

"It's not fine," was Bones retort, but he didn't say anything else about it, instead letting their hands fall down toward Kirk's leg, resting on it, fingers still touching.

Bones felt his heart begin to beat harder, the blood rushing behind his eyes at the mention of their names. Bones wanted to hurt them, hurt them harder and more brutally that he'd ever wanted to hurt anyone in his life. "Can you tell me what the stories were about?" he asked, almost automatically.

He needed to get Kirk talking more, talking about the injuries, the pain, the degradation. He needed to get Jim to push through all that happened to him, and he needed to hear about what his lover had gone through.

"He was happy, once. He had a wife. They were... friends. Oren, Ael. Maybe more then friends. Then Romulus was destroyed... and so was his mind." Kirk shivered visibly, his eyes looking away, briefly glazed over.

Then they grew darker, harder.

"He was an insane man," Bones told Kirk. He glanced over at his PADD, trying to remember the questions he'd jotted down, notes to ask him. But he didn't want to leave where he was sitting now.

He recalled one of the more painful questions. "Could you see what was happening to your dad?" Bones asked, bracing internally for the reaction.

"Yes." The single word was tight in his throat. Except when he had been unconscious, or what had happened to put him in that coma. "Most of it."

Bones exhaled, trying not to look as worried as he felt. "Jim, I need you to tell me about it. This isn't doing either of us a damn bit of good if you don't work with me here." He paused, taking a breath.

"I'm not... fuck, I just - what do you remember, about your dad?" He could feel himself losing his objectivity, and that wasn't a good thing.

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