Fic: Runaway, 1/1. Kirk/McCoy friendship.

[katydidmischief]

disclaimer. Not mine. Never have been and I'll only ever be playing in the sandbox.
title. Runaway
rating. PG-13 for Content
pairing. Kirk/McCoy friendship.
summary. The shock of Jim's admission, if it was a shock, didn't phase Bones.
warning. AU, mention of non-con, drug abuse.
notes. Written for this prompt at st_xi_kink.

16The door thunked shut at his back, a sharp snap that startled Jim and made him whip around to face whomever had discovered his thievery. His crossed arms laden with bottles and hypos of previously locked up drugs, he dropped a few as he spun but he ignored the clatter of the falling items, blue eyes taking in the dark-haired man before him.

Green-hazel eyes flickered with anger, then sadness, and finally something undefinable, something Jim had never seen before. A gruff voice asked, "That shit won't get you enough credits to buy a cheeseburger from a fast food joint. Come with me."

Jim wavered on his feet as his stomach rolled. Whether from the impromptu detox or from fear - what person would help a criminal? - he couldn't say nor could he ever explain why he chose to follow the nameless, scrub-clad doctor, letting his arms go limp and plunging the drugs to the floor along side their fumbled brethren.

The guy led him away, taking him further and further from the medical stores to a well-lit room on the far side of the clinic. An order to sit in an uncomfortable looking chair was issued and, still unsure and shaking with needneedneed, Jim did.

"This is for the pain," he was told as a hypo was pressed to his neck, dispensing with a barely perceptible hiss. The guy changed settings again and tightened his hand on the small device, "This is enough to get you through the night. I'll give it to you if you'll make me a promise."

Jim licked his lips, eyes dilating as he stared at the hypo. He asked, "What promise?"

"Tomorrow, you'll come back here and get that gash on your face stitched up."

"What? You don't want to try to save me?" Jim's voice was laden in bitterness, memories flitting across the forefront of his mind of the string of bleeding hearts that'd try to get him off the streets, tried to get him clean. The last one had been a sweet older woman who hadn't understood, at all, why Jim feared his own home and preferred homelessness.

"Kid, when you wanna get clean, I'll help ya' do it, but you're not ready for that, are you?" A raised eyebrow accompanied the statement, the hypo bouncing in his hand, and Jim nodded.

"So, like I said - you come back tomorrow. Let someone clean up and mend your face."

Jim agreed.

19"Again, Jim?" Bones asked, approaching the young man seated in the nearly black waiting room.

The teenager in question was laying across several chairs, his head cushioned on one arm with a swollen, bruised eye slit open. A glossy, dreamy quality had filled Jim's gaze; he was high as a fucking kite, that was a given, but he seemed different than usual and it disturbed McCoy greatly.

"Jim, talk to me," he demanded, dropping the chart he'd been holding onto the abandoned nurses' station and hitting the light switch before skidding to a halt at Jim's side. Kneeling down he ordered again, "Jim! Talk. To. Me."

"Is it possible for whores to get raped?" he finally rasped.

Bones' heart clenched. He'd tried for two and a half years to get Jim to knock off the hustling, swearing he'd keep Jim's addiction fed even if he was penniless, but the kid never did and now they were faced with the one thing Bones had feared all along.

He forced himself to speak, saying, "Yes, they can, Darlin'," then, "Can you stand?"

Jim nodded with some effort and allowed the doctor to get him to his feet. He groaned some when he got his feet under him, saying, "I think I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" McCoy asked, wrapping one arm under Jim's arms and across his back.

"To get clean."

The shock of Jim's admission, if it was a shock, didn't phase Bones, who simply continued to walk Jim to one of the clinic's beds before telling him, "Good man. Now hold still so I can fix your eye."

21Jim sent him a picture of himself on his birthday, holding a placard between friends that read only "I'm still alive!" as though it were some playful statement to be made instead of a sobering accomplishment.

Bones left the holo in his locker at work, looking at it every time he missed the young man.

22Jim hadn't recognized him at first, the high of getting on the shuttle, of having a challenge to fulfill, had brightened his eyes and clouded his mind. The layers of clothing and the overgrown scruff hadn't helped, nor the deadened look in Bones' eyes.

And for McCoy, seeing Jim, now a grown man, had been something of a shock. He'd never known what the then-teenager's last name had been, but as they stared at each other, the shuttle careening toward San Francisco, Bones couldn't help a small smile.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Jim asked, a little stunned.

"I told you, Jocelyn took me for every penny. Tossed me out of my own home," he answered, "Lucky I got to keep my own jacket."

Jim sighed, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes and wiping listlessly at the dried blood under his nose. "You could have called me, you know," he went on, a little annoyed that after the four years McCoy had spent caring for him, when Bones needed support, he hadn't asked for it.

"Yes, Jim, because clearly you did the same. What'd you do? Get in a fight with a brick wall?" he shot back.

"Something like that," Jim replied, glancing out the window behind Uhura's head. "Did I ever tell you thank you for all the shit you did for me?"

"Didn't want your thanks then, Jim, and I don't want it now." Bones took the flask back from his friend and pulled a long swallow from it, then capped it and slid the container into his pocket. One hand wound around the harness, gripping it tightly and he jumped a little when Jim added his own.

"Just breathe, Bones," Jim comforted.

Comments

[dancing_serpent]

That was really interesting! I like how you did this - would fit into canon perfectly.