Title: The Case of the Mondays, Part 8 (#19, J ‘N B Series)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Summary: Comment!fic inspired by this pic post at jim-and-bones; PI!Bones, Cop!Jim ‘verse. With both of them in danger, one will have to make a sacrifice.
A/N: There is one part left. That said, I do not know when it will get written or how the story will end. :/
Previous Parts: Another Day, Another Dollar, and a Daily Show? | Fight the Good Fight | Don’t Touch the Rock | A Tear Worth Gold | Another Day, Another Dollar, Part 2 | Pirates Read Too | The Case of the Mondays | Today’s Topic -Helmets! | The Case of the Mondays, Part 2 | Marked | Awesome Ideas Come from Awesome Brains | In the Keeping of a Spirit | The Case of the Mondays, Part 3 | The Case of the Mondays, Part 4 | The Case of the Mondays, Part 5 | Forewarned is Forearmed | The Case of the Mondays, Part 6 | The Case of the Mondays, Part 7

…”Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst’s gown—”

“But I can assure you,” she added, “that Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting his fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man.”*

At the opening of the library door, McCoy looks up from the novel in his lap, his index finger poised in the action of turning a page, and blinks, his imagining of Netherfield and condescending rich gentlemen interrupted by the noise.

He had originally snitched Pride and Prejudice from one of Spock’s bookcases with the intention of investigating the nuances of his captor’s personality. He had expected to find, perhaps, the well-used book to be some sort of secret code decipher or a rouse in which to hide Spock’s evil plans; instead it seems Spock is exceedingly fond of this love story, as evidenced by the dog-eared pages and crumbling spine. McCoy himself, having never read any of Austen’s works before, had become unexpectedly and increasingly engrossed in the world of the Bennets, Bingleys, and Darcys, forgetting for an hour his ill temper at the art thief and determination to find a way to free himself.

He cannot see the door from the angle of his wing-backed leather chair (it’s quite comfortable; Spock evidently spares no expense for luxury) but he knows nobody would dare enter this library except its owner. McCoy, ready for another verbal spar, uncrosses his legs and tosses the first barb over the top of the chair. “You know, you’d make a perfect Mr. Darcy, Spock. He’s as ego-bloated in fiction as you are in real life.”

Instead of the anticipated dry retort comes a breathless “Bones?“

Leonard instantly forgets about Spock; the book tumbles from his lap as he abandons the chair with haste, hardly daring to hope. But it is Jim, standing just inside the door to the library. He cries his lover’s name.

One moment they are across the room, far apart and both equally surprised, and the next they are in each other’s arms. Jim’s hands dig into the back of McCoy’s borrowed shirt, as if Jim never intends to let him go, and Leonard returns the hold just as fiercely. They need no words between them to express their mutual joy. It is some minutes before Leonard reluctantly eases back, pressing his mouth to Jim’s solidly as he does so.

After the kiss, he asks roughly, “How’d you find me?”

Jim’s eyes are tear-bright but the question seems to cause the man’s expression to turn hard like stone. “I’m going to kill him,” Kirk says darkly.

Is McCoy supposed to argue with that? But he gives Jim’s shoulders a light shake. “Before you go doing the obvious, we oughta have an escape route picked out.”

Jim bares his teeth, no doubt still thinking of Spock, and it isn’t in a friendly grin. “We’ll get out, Bones, no matter what. I promise.”

Leonard steps back with a sigh. “Please tell me you noticed the security on this joint. I swear to God, he’s got guard dogs.” He had heard one of them howling last night just down the hallway leading to his “guest room” and had lain awake, uneasy, for some hours until he was exhausted. The morning, however, had revealed no evidence of a nightly visit by the resident Baskerville Hound.

Running a hand through his hair, he moves toward the wide bay window of the library. He thinks about the situation they are in and draws a conclusion he doesn’t like. “You didn’t find me, did you? He brought you here.” Leonard watches Jim’s tripled reflection in the panes of the window. The way Jim clenches and unclenches his fist, fighting down fury, is answer enough.

McCoy says simply, “Tell me.”

Jim starts toward him, stops. The words sound forced, as if Kirk hates to say them. “He took you. At the ball.”

“When did Spock get you?” he wants to know. His story is old news by now, no sense in prodding painful wounds.

“At a warehouse. I thought it might be a trap but…” Jim swallows hard. “He did keep you there, didn’t he?”

Leonard nods. “I was there for a day, I think. Not long at all, considering circumstances.” His mouth quirks with humor. “I accused the bastard of re-enacting every cheesy gangster movie known to Man. Said if he was gonna put me in cement boots, he might as well get on with it and toss me in the river ’cause I had no hankering to share space with rats for a week.”

Jim makes a suppressed noise of dismay.

“So a couple of hours later he sedated me, packed me up, and brought me here.” Imagine his surprise upon coming to consciousness in a cozy bed and a tray of tea and biscuits and fresh fruit. Spock is the craziest criminal he has ever met.

For a few seconds, they look around at the neatly arranged, mahogany-paneled library. “Is this… his house?” Jim mutters, turning to eyeball the door left standing open with suspicion. The hallway beyond is quiet and empty.

Leonard answers the question because Spock kindly provided with that information two days ago. “Yes. One of his houses, I’m guessing. I have a room upstairs with a bathroom the size of Canada. And take a look out here.” He motions to the window.

Jim walks to the bay window and stares out at the scenery, silent and pensive as he thinks. Leonard watches Jim’s face, ridiculously glad they are together.

“It’s the Rockies,” McCoy supplies after a moment. “I think maybe we’re in Colorado.”

Jim turns to him, a hint of relieved amusement flashing in his eyes. “Why Colorado, Bones? Is it the snow?”

“Well clearly we ain’t in the desert, kid.”

“Like you’d know the difference. You grew up in the Everglades.”

McCoy pinches at Jim’s arm. “How many times do I have to explain geography to a bonehead like you? I was born in the deep South, not the fucking swamp.”

Falling back into their usual, loving banter dispels any tension bleeding into their reunion. Jim tugs McCoy to him until they are almost touching and wraps a warm hand around the back of his neck to hold him there.

“Bones,” Jim murmurs, lips against his ear. “Bones, I thought I was going to die without you…”

Leonard is too old to melt like a lovesick teenager into this man’s arms but his body is doing a decent impression of butter. Thank God Spock brought Jim.

His eyes fly open on the heels of that thought, and his entire body jerks in astonishment. Jim captures his chin, saying with concern, “Bones, what?”

Thank God Spock brought him?

No. He did not think that.

He fucking did not think that! He—

“Jim,” he begs urgently, “we have to get out of here. Now. Right now!”

Jim squeezes his arm, a show of comfort, and agrees. “I need…” Jim stares at the library in an entirely new way. “I need a weapon,” the man finishes grimly.

McCoy’s heart pounds harder in his chest. A weapon. Of course they need a weapon, because Spock isn’t going to let them walk out the front door. No, Spock had told him… “…you cannot leave until we have reached a resolution.” He lifts his eyes to Jim’s. “That’s what Spock said. He’s crazy, Jim. I don’t think…” He trails off.

I don’t think Spock wants me to leave him. And if I tell you that I might as well stab you in the heart myself.

This is too fucked up for him. Spock is crossing lines McCoy didn’t know existed. And he doesn’t trust himself to react in the rational way anymore, not after a kiss which should have never happened.

Someone is tugging on his hand. Leonard opens his eyes (when had he closed them?) to find Jim saying, “Let’s go.” He stares at the brass candlestick in Jim’s hand.

It was the general in the library with the candlestick, his brain supplies weirdly. Then, Get a grip on yourself, McCoy!

Freeing his hand from Jim’s, he grabs the twin to Jim’s candlestick and tests the weight of it. “Okay,” Leonard says, “I’m ready.” He doesn’t need to add Let’s get the fuck out of here already.

He is prepared for locked doors; he had tried to break one down—after failing to pick its lock first—the moment he had woken to captivity here and only succeeded in spraining his shoulder. He is prepared for the shatter-proof windows (tossing a chair at one had proved disaster when it rebounded at McCoy’s head). He is even prepared for those elusive guard dogs to make a snack of he and Jim.

Leonard does not expect, as he and Jim silently sneak along a hallway, to have Spock walk out of a room in a house robe and slippers and a cup of coffee in each hand.

The three of them freeze in place.

Spock’s eyes slide quickly from Kirk to McCoy then down to the candlesticks in their hands. One of his eyebrows slowly arches. “Ah. I had not realized you would attempt escape this soon.” He lifts the two mugs slightly. “I brought you refreshments.”

Kirk takes a stance Leonard has seen a thousand times. If Jim had a gun, it would be pointed directly at Spock’s head.

“We’re not interested in your hospitality,” the cop almost snarls. “You kidnapped Bones! I warned you not to—I warned you, Spock, and that was where I screwed up, because I thought you weren’t the usual kind of two-faced shitbag I always deal with.”

That… is not the you-are-under-arrest spiel McCoy expected to hear from his partner.

“Jim? Jim, what—?” When did Jim talk to Spock?

“I was wrong,” Kirk finishes, voice hard, “but my mistake doesn’t negate your crime.”

Spock’s eyes are fixed on Kirk; his bland expression gives nothing away. But then, McCoy learned long ago that what Spock says often is more meaningful than what he does.

The man’s words are spoken softly, almost gently. “Jim, I did not intend to lie to you. However certain… events took place which I could not ignore. I—” Spock grows quiet for a moment. “—am sorry.”

Whether the apology affects Jim or not, it rocks McCoy. He has never heard the art thief mean those words before. Generally it’s I am sorry you acted so foolishly or I am sorry you are inconvenienced by my diabolical plans or ‘I am sorry’ because these words make me seem polite.

Jim’s knuckles are white where he is gripping his candlestick. “I don’t accept your apology. Now stay the fuck out of our way.”

McCoy, being no fool, sidles along the wall on Jim’s heels as they cautiously edge past the statue-like Spock. He is shocked, certainly, but also suddenly hopeful they are going to make it out of here unscathed. Maybe Spock really is sorry, maybe…

“If you attempt to leave before advised, matters will go ill for you, Kirk.”

Goddamn it. That unyielding tone is back. Before McCoy can cry “Run!” to Jim, a shadow appears at the end of the hallway where the stairs meet the second floor. And the shadow growls.

“Dog,” Leonard doesn’t quite squeak.

This is not fair. Why does Spock have to have a dog when McCoy is slightly more than terrified of dogs. In front of him, Jim stiffens.

“Bones, stay behind me.”

At the same time, Spock says, “I would be remiss in not allowing time for your injury to heal before you depart.”

Leonard is torn between imagining the biggest, mangiest, blood-thirstiest beast in all of creation and trying to make sense of Spock’s statement. He settles for “I’m not injured, dumbass. I thought your doctor explained that to you ten times already.”

Spock has discarded the coffee mugs on a side table. “Yes, that is accurate, Mr. McCoy. Your partner, unfortunately, upon his examination did not agree with my physician that his concussion warrants care. The doctor found him infinitely more trying than you, or so I was duly informed.”

Leonard’s candlestick almost brains Jim of its own volition. “YOU HAVE A CONCUSSION?!” he yells too close to Kirk’s ear.

Jim throws him a not now, Bones look. “I’m fine. Just keep behind me, Bones, and we’ll make it past the dog.”

“I don’t care about the dog!” McCoy snaps back (but really he does because raging canine and it’s gonna eat him like a juicy steak, oh hell). “You didn’t tell me you were hurt, Jim!”

“And that’s Spock’s fault so the sooner we get away from him the better!”

“Technically,” interrupts their kidnapper, “the injury was not of my doing.” Suddenly the dog-shadow stops growling, as though Spock’s voice is a trigger, and whines instead. Spock calls calmly, “Come, Plato.”

The dog rounding the corner of the stairs is less of a monster and more of a fluffy brown-and-white cocker spaniel. It trots past Jim and Leonard and barks excitedly at Spock, who feeds it something small and crunchy procured from a pocket of the house robe. But when Spock does not give it another treat, Plato points its furry face in McCoy’s direction—and growls.

Jim’s hustle along the unguarded hallway (and toward freedom) is only slightly hampered by Leonard’s clinging to his back and whispering, “Jim, Jim, I think that dog wants to hurt me.” They reach the stairs without incident. They make it to the front door (why the hell is this house divided into wings? it’s confusing the hell out of McCoy’s sense of direction) without meeting any untoward or threatening presences. The front door itself is unlocked.

McCoy is thinking this is too easy the moment they step foot beyond the door and somebody takes a practice shot at Jim’s ear and a bullet lodges in the wood of the door behind them. Leonard hauls Jim backward on instinct and they fall into a heap on the foyer of Spock’s home.

“What the fuck?” Leonard shouts, mainly because his hearing is vibrating from the heartstoppingly close impact of the gunshot.

A voice clears politely. Spock has, it seems, followed them.

“That was an acquaintance of mine with a penchant for sniper rifles,” they are advised. “I fear you will be unable to locate him by sight but rest assured he is there.”

Leonard looks at Spock, incredulous. “You’re going to shoot us if we leave?”

“No,” Spock corrects. “Mr. Chekov will shoot you.”

McCoy is speechless at first. Pavel… oh, shit, Pavel! But why did Spock…

“You had the clues. It was only a matter of time before his involvement was confirmed,” Spock answers McCoy’s unspoken question.

Jim’s reaction is slow, much too slow. For a second, McCoy thinks he is too dazed to respond. Until Jim says, clear as day, “He’s not the first mole you’ve planted in my unit, Spock.”

“No,” Spock agrees.

“But he’ll be the last,” Jim states tonelessly. Then Kirk is on his feet, striding to the open door again.

Leonard cries in alarm, “Jim!” A tiny part of his brain acknowledges that Spock has echoed McCoy’s cry for Kirk with equal surprise.

Jim ignores them. He stops at the threshold, facing the outdoors, eyes narrowed and stance issuing a silent challenge. “Chekov’s been itching to put a bullet in me from day one. You think I don’t recognize that look in a man’s eyes by now? And that warning shot of his…” The corner of Jim’s mouth lifts. “…was only for me. He won’t touch McCoy, will he, Spock?”

Spock seems frozen, his reply caught by tiny hitches of his breath. “Jim…”

“Will he?” Jim demands, turning to burn his gaze into Spock’s dark, questioning eyes.

Spock doesn’t sound steady at all. “No, I—no. Not McCoy.”

Silhouetted in the sunlight, Jim finally settles his eyes on Leonard. In them is everything he won’t say in front of Spock: I love you and please, Bones, you must understand. It’s his Captain’s voice he uses when he speaks to McCoy: “You need to leave, Bones.”

Without Jim? The very thought is alien to McCoy. “I won’t,” he says stubbornly.

“You will.”

“We’re not splitting up, Jim!”

“If you don’t,” his lover says, unrelenting, “I will walk out this door.”

He makes a move toward Jim but stops the second his partner shifts away, a single step from putting himself in the line of fire. “Jim, what the fuck are you doing!” McCoy has never known panic like this before. “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE DOOR!”

“Bones,” Jim murmurs, “don’t you see? If you leave, you’re safe. If I die, you’re safe. Spock, the cop-killer,” he says, voice flat. “He knows he can’t hold you after that, can’t play his games. He will be the most wanted man in country.”

And I’ll hate him. I’ll never forgive him if you die, McCoy thinks. As it is, he hates himself when he says, “Okay. I get it, just—Jim, please, don’t do this.”

Jim’s eyes are soft; they have the same look Leonard wakes to some mornings to find Jim watching him. Those mornings, they love each other so sweetly it makes his heart tremble to think of it.

“You’ll go for me, Bones?” asks Jim.

He nods, unable to speak.

Jim steps aside, making room for him to pass through the door. Every step Leonard takes turns him into more of a wreck; but with every step, he promises himself the same thing over and over again. He tells Jim that same promise once he is outside, just an arm’s length away from the man he is leaving behind.

He says, “You’d better not do anything stupid, Jim, because I am coming back for you.”

Jim only smiles at him.

McCoy looks beyond Jim to Spock. “I am coming back for you, too, Spock,” he adds. “When I do, you’d better start running.”

Spock, like Jim, is silent but unlike Jim, does not show relief or hope or love at the threat. He is eerily blank, if pale; but he is, in some strange way, McCoy senses, waiting.

Yet waiting for what, Leonard does not know.

Walking away from Jim is the hardest thing he has ever done. But he is not going far, he thinks. He is going to catch that deviant Pavel. Then rescue Jim.

-Fini

____

* – excerpt from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

The Case of the Mondays, Part 9

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• The Light In Which We’re Cast (#39, J ‘N B Series) – from March 20, 2013
• Playing Life to Win (#38, J ‘N B Series) – from March 14, 2013
• An Intergalactic Fandom (#37, J ‘N B Series) – from January 15, 2013
• We Fight to Win (#36, J ‘N B Series) – from January 4, 2013