Title: Many Bells Down (3/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Sequel to Along Comes a Stranger; Riverside ‘verse. Dating Bones and Spock is wonderful, better than Jim imagined. Then Bones’ mother arrives, Spock receives the offer of a lifetime outside of Riverside, and Jim has to make a series of choices that could completely change his – and ultimately Riverside’s – future.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2

Part Three

“Have you met Gaila’s new paramour?” Nyota wants to know as she weighs a bowling ball between her hands. Discarding it for some reason, she spies a pink ball and picks that one to admire next.

Jim finishes tying the laces on his rented bowling shoes. “Who the heck says paramour these days?”

“Gaila does” is the woman’s absent reply. Experimentally swinging the pink bowling ball, she smiles with satisfaction. Jim, on the other hand, makes sure to give both Nyota and it a wide berth. She adds, “He’s good-looking” like that is the most important quality a man needs to have.

“So what?” mutters her blond-haired companion.

Uhura considers his nonchalant stance. “It bites you in the ass, doesn’t it?” She carefully returns the bowling ball to its rightful place on a rack. “Jesus, Jim, don’t be such a dickhead.”

“I’m not!”

“Is that why you pretended to be busy when Gaila stopped by the diner yesterday? You were rude.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “What do I care that she’s banging some rich dude?”

“So you are jealous!” Nyota’s eyes bore into the back of his head. “Why? You’re dating other people.”

He sighs. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Yes, I do. But does your little brain know that?”

He turns on her, suddenly mad. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She is one of the few people who won’t back out of a pissing contest with him. “I think you’re jealous because she finally got over you. I think you miss knowing that you had a backup.”

Jim stares at Nyota for a long moment. Finally he swallows down his anger and asks, more to himself, “You… really believe that?”

She reaches out and lightly runs a hand up and down his arm, as if to take the sting out of the truth. “Gaila didn’t want commitment when you did, Jim. You always said that’s why you two broke up even though you loved each other. After a while, though? She’d have given in to you, Jim. You knew that. You could count on it, just in case.”

“In case I never met anyone else,” he finishes.

“Hey, that’s not wrong. Everyone wants to know they have someone.” Nyota’s smile has a touch of sadness to it. “Gaila depended on you too, Jim, but she put on a brave face when Leonard and Spock came along. The least you can do is return the favor.”

His shoulders droop. “Am I really such an asshole?”

Nyota hugs him. “You’re the most generous-hearted person I know, dummy. You’re also male. It means you’ll still do stupid shit.”

Jim pulls back. “Why am I not comforted by your pep-talk?” he asks, despite the naked gratitude in his eyes.

She pushes him away and picks up her favorite bowling ball again. “Are you insulting me, James Kirk?”

He eyes first her then the bowling ball. Pink is a menacing color. “Nooo.”

She sashies past him to the lane they have chosen. “I didn’t think so.” Then, “Loser buys dinner.”

Nyota sucks at bowling. They both know it. So she didn’t come to here solely to play a game with him. In the same breath, Jim says “You’re on” and “Thanks, Uhura.”

Her only acknowledgement of his second statement is to toss a smile in his direction over her shoulder. Then it’s all concentration on how to bowl. She, like always, goes up to the thick black line at the beginning of the lane, squats, and gives the ball a mighty push forward. When it hits the gutter halfway down and she starts in on a round of cussing, Jim laughs, at peace.

It’s Friday and Spock will be home that evening. Jim is late to work due to his own presence of mind—more specifically, a lack thereof—because he managed to catch Spock at his Boston apartment and need to be reassured more than once that Spock wasn’t going to miss his flight back to Iowa.

Spock had eventually said, “Central time is 7:56 am, Jim. Will you not be late to work?”

At that point Jim had been struck with a sense of impending doom, cried “Jose’s gonna eat me for breakfast! Fuck!”, immediately banged his shin against the coffee table, and subsequently dropped the phone.

Spock’s voice came back to him from the vicinity of the carpet. “Jim, panic is pointless.”

He fell to his knees and said at the phone, “Remember those words when I’m standing in the unemployment line!” He almost added that Spock could be his sugar daddy and pay all his bills but Spock would not laugh at that joke, so Jim let the opportunity sadly slip away.

Currently he is flying down the highway, barely taking curves in a proper fashion (Bones would have a heart attack, and his mother would kill him dead) to cut down on time. Jim is tempted to stop his Harley one or two blocks away and silently walk both himself and it to the auto shop. Otherwise Jose would recognize the sound of the motorbike and come out of his office, fly-swat swinging, and be upon Jim in an instant.

He sighs, decides to face fate, and pulls directly into the parking lot. Strangely enough, no Jose pelts out the office door. And the garage doors are still rolled up.

Jim, suddenly worry for Jose overriding anxiety for himself, hastily yanks off his helmet and enters the front office. The door opens with a tale-tell beep, and he walks up to the deserted counter.

“Jose?”

Wandering toward a small back room of the office, he notes that though its door is closed, a light is on inside the room. Jim stops outside the door, eavesdropping. He hears the low familiar baritone of Jose’s voice. A second voice follows, another man’s voice, and that makes Jim think twice about knocking. Sensing no tension in the air, he decides Jose is probably discussing shop with a customer and so Jim heads into the garage area to change into his overalls.

Jim reviews the work orders on a chart, attempting to choose between working on a car or the conked-out mailman’s truck sagging in the back of the garage. The U.S. Postal Service keeps the vehicles until they fall apart into a hundred pieces on the road; and only then does the government allot a small budget for repairs. Such jobs are the bane of the auto shop’s existence but as Jose says, they can’t turn away any kind of work. “Economy’s in the pits as it is” Jose is fond of repeating in Jim’s ears. “Fix the truck, we get paid, and mail gets delivered.” (Jim’s reply, while frowning at the small box-shaped vehicle, was “Fix it with what? Glue and duck-tape?” Jose had shrugged and left that decision up to Kirk.)

He hears someone say, “Consider it. We will speak again.”

Jim tucks the chart under his arm and peeks through a window into the office. Jose stares at the hand proffered by a man attired in a no-nonsense business suit before slowly extending his own hand and completing the handshake. Jose doesn’t return the farewell and silently watches the man exit the front office.

Jim stumbles through the door, itching with curiosity. It’s the blank look on Jose’s face that makes him ask cautiously, “Who was that?”

Jose glances in his direction. “Some hotshot. He wants to buy the garage.”

Jim could have been smacked with a two-by-four out of thin air and he would be less surprised. “What?“

Jose frowns, almost says something else, but changes his mind; instead he shrugs and fishes out a pair of work gloves from under the counter. Jim is hot on his heels all the way into the garage.

“Jose? Jose! Fuck, man, you can’t drop a bomb like that AND NOT TELL ME ANYTHING!”

Jose stops, turns on him. “You were late to work this morning.”

Jim is having none of let’s change the subject. “So fire me. Oh wait, I might lose my job anyway… if you sell the fucking garage!”

“Jim!” barks the older man. “Calm down! I didn’t say I was selling, okay? I—I don’t know.” Jose, whom Jim has rarely seen so uncertain, rakes a hand through the grey hair at his temples. “I don’t know, Jim” is all he can repeat.

Jose pulls out a white card from his pocket and stares down at it. Jim leans closer to Jose, heart thumping madly in his chest, to get a good look at the name of the bastard who is monkeying with his boss—and thereby Jim.

Below the logo and company title Eugenics Corp. in bold capital print is:
KHAN NOONIEN SINGH
CEO

Jim makes a noise that has Jose asking, “You know this guy?”

Jim shakes his head slowly, reeling. “No, I don’t.” Then more firmly, “But I’m going to know him soon.”

Why is Gaila’s boyfriend trying to purchase Jose’s business?

Jim had a bad headache that lasted through the morning into the late afternoon. By the time he made it to Spock’s house, his mood was awful, his road rage was swelling past the point of no return, and his language had devolved into something quite foul.

He had been asking himself the same questions over and over all day, only to have no idea of a good answer. Who is Khan, and what the fuck is this Khan up to? Gaila had closed down her shop for vacation time when he swung by at lunchtime (that’s what the stupid sign on the door said, fuck her too) and the loud noises in the diner only caused Jim to grit his teeth harder.

Then in his own home (okay, so it’s Spock’s, minor detail) Eleanor said something unappreciative to his back, he snapped at her, Bones snapped at him, and soon the atmosphere in the house was dangerous. When he turned on Bones, pissed, Bones didn’t have the sense to tell Jim to cool off. The day only got worse from there.

Now it’s two hours later, his headache has eased and the house is quiet. Jim is ensconced in the living room with Joanna. Eleanor (smug Eleanor, Jim thinks unhappily) is probably consoling her son and convincing him to run off to Georgia when night falls.

Jim jerks a page of the science fiction book in his hands, almost tearing it.

A young voice interrupts his train of thought. “When’s Uncle Spock coming back?” Joanna’s legs pantomime tick-tock, tick-tock in the air. She is lying on her belly and currently doodling on a page of her brand new sketch pad. Jim isn’t allowed to look at the picture until she’s done. She has told him so, quite firmly.

He frowns at the paperback novel. “Today.” He needs to calm down. That today was too sharp, and Joanna isn’t at fault for his bad mood.

“When today?”

“Soon today.”

She discards a green colored pencil for a pink one. The silence in the living room lasts all of ten seconds. “Are you fightin’ with Daddy?”

His breath catches. “No.”

Joanna stops coloring to peer up at him through her lashes. “But Daddy slammed the door just like Mama used to.”

It’s amazing how much a child can pick up at a young age. No wonder most parenting books caution against uncivilized behavior around children.

“Daddy and I aren’t fighting, Princess.” Jim, you are a such a liar, he thinks.

She goes back to her coloring. He re-reads the same paragraph twice. Two minutes later: “Look, Mr. Jim, look!” The young girl announces the finished production of her work and immediately scrambles to her feet to show it to him.

Jim sets aside his novel and carefully looks over her shoulder. “Oh, that’s good, Princess!” he tells her brightly. He works hard to let the knot of anger in him go.

She puffs up with pride and points at a lovingly drawn person. “That’s Granny.”

Granny is a rotund stick figure with an enormous hat reclining in a lounge chair. Jim snickers, feeling better already. Then there is Miss Joanna McCoy who is pretty in a pink bathing suit, complete with a bow on top of her head.

Jim’s fingers capture stray blonde wisps of Joanna’s hair tickling his nose as she leans against his chest.

Spock is obvious. He’s the tallest of all the stick figures, wearing pointy black shoes, no pants (did Joanna forget them?), and a flat line for a mouth instead of a smile. He looks so serious even in a seven year old’s drawing that Jim’s grin broadens.

“Is that Bones?” he asks, pointing to the person standing next to Joanna and holding her hand.

“Uh-huh. See, there’s his ste-steoscope—”

“Stethoscope.”

“Steoscope,” she repeats firmly, “because he’s a doctor.”

After staring at Bones’ swimming trunks, Jim puts a fist against his mouth. He mumbles around it, “Daddy looks good in pink.”

Joanna beams in agreement.

He clears his throat and looks the picture over one more time. There’s one more stick figure—well, not much of one anyway. Just a grinning circle topped with lots of short bright yellow hair.

Joanna explains, “You’re swimmin’. Uncle Spock thinks the pool is icky so he ain’t gonna get in with me ‘n Dad ‘n you. That’s why he’s over there with Granny.”

Jim pulls Joanna into a hug. “Spock’s silly, isn’t he, Princess?”

“Daddy says he might have a pho-bee-ah and I shouldn’t be mean and make him get in the pool.”

“Are we talking about Spock?” drawls a much deeper Southern voice.

“Look, Daddy! I drew everybody!”

Bones leans against the back of the couch and studies his daughter’s drawing. “Nice job, JoJo.” As an afterthought, “I can see Jim’s already drowning in the pool.”

“I am not,” Jim retorts indignantly. “I’m swimming.”

“He can hold his breath a long time,” adds Joanna in Jim’s defense.

Jim sneaks a sidelong glance at Bones. Noting the hard lines about the man’s mouth, Jim thinks he isn’t over his anger yet. Well, neither is Jim, not really. Without Spock to mediate or draw some logical common ground between Leonard and Jim, their fight hadn’t ended with apologies, only avoidance on both sides. Which leaves anger to fester rather than heal.

Jim checks the clock on the wall, eases Joanna from his side, and stands up. If he doesn’t leave in the next ten minutes, he might be late to Riverside’s small airport to pick up Spock. Jim goes to the kitchen, toward the door leading to the garage.

Joanna, however, skips along right behind him. Jim pulls off a set of keys from a hook and smiles patiently down at her. “Want to come along, Miss Joanna?”

She nods in the affirmative but her father says, “No.”

Jim and Joanna look at him in surprise. Bones touches the top of Joanna’s head. “I’m gonna go with Jim to get Uncle Spock, ‘kay, sweetheart? Uncle Spock ‘n Jim ‘n I need to talk about some grown-up things.”

They do?

Joanna echoes his thought with a more plaintive “Why?”

Bones finally meets Jim’s gaze, mouth thinned, and even though Jim doesn’t like what he sees in his boyfriend’s eyes, Jim comes to his rescue. Whispering conspiratorily loud in the little girl’s ear, he says, “We’re planning a party for a Princess and if that Princess hears about it, there won’t be any surprises left!”

With an excited gleam in her eyes, Joanna demands, “Is there gonna be a cake?”

“Maybe.”

She bounces on her toes. “It has tah be ice cream cake, Prince Jim!”

Jim grins and asks in mock-surprise, “Really? Princesses like ice cream cakes? What kind?”

“Strawberry!”

“Hmm…”

Bones breaks up their scheming. “Joanna, your grandmother’s out on the porch. You stay with her. And no pool time until we get back, understand?”

She rolls her eyes in a perfect imitation of her father. “I know the rules, Daddy. I’m not little.”

Bones tweaks her hair. “You’ll always be my baby girl.”

Her only reply is “I want the bestest party ever!” before scampering off.

Leonard’s shoulders sag once she is gone. “God,” he says in low voice, “I’m gonna miss her.”

Jim almost lays his hand on the man’s back but withdraws it at the last second. Instead he murmurs “I know” and opens the door to the garage.

After Jim unlocks the vehicle, Bones circles around to the passenger side of the red convertible and gets in. A silent Jim Kirk starts the engine to Spock’s restored Corvette. The airport is a long thirty-minute drive across town. Yet Jim wouldn’t be surprised if he and Leonard do not say one word between them the entire way.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• Many Bells Down (12/12) – from November 9, 2011
• Many Bells Down (11/12) – from November 8, 2011
• Many Bells Down (10/12) – from November 6, 2011
• Many Bells Down (9/12) – from October 30, 2011
• Many Bells Down (8/12) – from October 28, 2011