“Damnit Jim… when’s it my turn to pet the dog?”
Uhura redraw !!
I freakin’ love this angel
All McCoys are born with a gift. Or a curse, depending on your outlook.
The curse came knocking on your twenty-second birthday. It didn’t care who you were with, your life plans, where you were headed. It showed up and expected you to take notice.
“It’s a curse, pure and simple.” Leonard’s grandmama Ella said when Leo pestered her about it when he was only nine. “Why anyone would choose to suffer is beyond me.”
“It’s a gift,” Leo’s mama said. “It bought me to your father.”
Eleanor McCoy still thought that the day David was diagnosed with Xenopolycythemia and then the day they buried him.
Leo was 22 when he assisted his father’s suicide. He was 22 when the xenopolycythemia took hold and offered no other way out. He was 22 when the curse started.
It happens to most as dreams. Dreams that give you two clear choices. Two paths. The one with your soulmate and the one without them.
It was a curse because you weren’t often given much time with them. Either you passed away in some freak accident or you found them so late that you were old and grey. Leonard had heard stories passed from generation to generation of McCoys attempting to ignore the curse–to take the other path–to live without their other halves.
But somehow, someway, the curse corrected the timeline of events, wove fate like a series of thread until you found someone you couldn’t imagine living without.
Leonard refused to accept that. He couldn’t go through what his mother went through. He couldn’t imagine leaving anyone behind. He’d put the curse to an end. And never tell his children about it.
Even when the dreams of a sandy blonde haired man with marble blue eyes started. Even when he felt in a dream the way he imagined being with your soulmate should feel. For weeks, despite himself, he woke up in an elated mood–the sensations and memories of the dreams spilling into the day with the same comfort and warmth he felt at night.
And then the nightmares started. Each dream he got there too late, showing up to a medbay where a body bag was laid out in front of him and the man’s eyes were closed, his face bruised and bloodied.
Well, fuck that.
Leonard took extra sims and pulled extra intern hours at the clinic. He forced the dreams away–ignored the looks from his mother, the pitying glances from his tired-eyed grandmother.
He married a woman with dark hair and hazel eyes who was too serious for her own good and never made him laugh. He loved her the way you love a friend.
It was over before it began.
He packed up his bags and fled. He moved faster than the curse could catch up. Space was a good place to hide. Starfleet would put him on a post so far away that the only beings he’d meet would be just passing through.
He sat next to a sandy haired man on a shuttle with marble blue eyes. For a second, he thought he was too drunk–hallucinating on too little sleep and not enough food.
Three years later, the curse became a gift.
Even when Jim was laid out on a medbay table, unzipped body bag making him look too small, too young, too dead.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Jim had told him when Bones first explained the curse. “It’ll be me before you, you know that, right”
They had been lying on the cramped couch in Jim’s quarters. It was late, probably morning and Bones had felt the need to confess.
Bones had kissed the top of his head. “I wouldn’t let you go anywhere, kid. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”
“I know, Bones.”
He couldn’t let that faith in him die right now. He couldn’t let this end. It wasn’t fair, dammnit. His parents had years. He had four.
And so he did what no other McCoy had done. He brought back his soulmate. He gave a finger to the curse. And he finally saw it as a gift.