Chapter Text
If there was one place that Bones did not want to be, it was Basic Field Training 2-817 at Starfleet Academy.
Granted, there were plenty of reasons to not be at Starfleet Academy, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. Going to space alone was already a rough transition for him, but the thought of having to take a combat class to graduate and get there wasn’t quite his glass of whiskey, either— he was a doctor, for god’s sake; when would he ever need that?
Jim had, as usual, made the surprising and unpleasant decision for them to train in the same class, since they’d likely have less and less overlap as their careers continued.
“It’ll be fun, Bones,” the blond clapped his friend’s back as they both climbed the steps to the combat training center. “Think of it as a workout.”
“You think I enjoy gettin’ all sweaty and out of breath?”
“You would if it was between someone’s sheets~~~”
Bones pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing another rant into a firm statement, “You’re a damned infant and I hate you for dragging me into this class.”
“All cadets are required to take a basic training course,” Jim reminded him. “I just thought it would be better for you to take it with me than by yourself, y’know, to have some motivation, that kind of thing. Plus, the 2-817 instructor is supposed one of the best at the academy.”
“And you’re sure you’re not just putting us through this one because the instructor is also apparently young and pretty?” Bones grumbled.
“Don’t be so bitter, Bones. Young doesn’t have to mean inexperienced.”
Leonard didn’t know what to make of you, finally coming to the training room your class took place in. You shared his posture, with crossed arms and shoulders back in a confidence he didn’t see in himself, but your expression was unreadable.
That didn’t sit well with him. Just because he was a surgical doctor by trade didn’t mean he saw no value in the study of psychology. Your posture was remarkably defensive for a group of people you’d never met.
“Welcome to Basic Training 2-817,” you greeted, voice like stone, once your class had gathered. “My name is Professor Y/L/N. This may be my first year of teaching this course, but I can assure you, Captain Pike didn’t request me here because I’m not qualified for field security.”
“She knows Pike!” Jim whispered to Leonard like it solved everything qualm the doctor had about taking this course.
“...so some physical tests to determine where you all stand is probably the best way to start. Any questions before we begin?” You raised your eyebrows, though not in a condescending way.
“Have you been on any ships before?” One of the younger cadets asked, “Like, on assignment? How can we be sure you know what you’re doing?”
You almost seemed flattered by the challenge to your authority, “Yes, but that’s all classified.”
“Starfleet information can be classified? Isn’t this an exploration and scientific organization?” Another female student piped up, and Bones would be lying if he wasn’t thinking the same thing.
“You command types can discuss things like that in your administrative courses later in your Academy career,” you gently but firmly ended the conversation. “I want to see laps, people. Can’t hold your own in a fight if you can’t keep up. Go!”
“Oh, she’s absolutely your type, Bones,” Jim laughed, removing his Academy jacket for the standard black undershirt. “She’s just as grumpy as you are! You’ll do plenty fine in this-“
“Cadet Kirk!” You called, making Jim jolt in surprise, “I said laps, not gossip hour! You and Cadet McCoy can talk when you’re out of my class!”
Jim hustled by you, severely humbled and even confused (how could you hear him so far away and so quiet?), with Bones in tow.
“And Cadet,” you warned, gently grabbing Kirk’s arm to ensure his attention, “don’t assume you know what kind of instructor I’ll be. That’s the kind of thinking that gets you killed out in the deep.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, and you released him to start his laps.
“She’s terrifying,” Jim grinned at Bones, “this’ll be fun!”
--
“...And I don’t think you want to be the one responsible for letting the Enterprise leave without one of its senior medical officers!” Bones snapped, hoping against hope that he could BS Jim aboard this ship. The crewman hemmed and hawed, looking between his PADD and the doorway to the ship and the belligerent doctor.
“I’ll take it from here, Lieutenant,” you said, sliding up with slick ease and taking the man’s PADD. He nodded and left you to it, the light reflecting on your red uniform and giving your face a deadly glow. Bones suddenly realized he was being faced with a much more difficult challenge: you.
“Senior medical officer, McCoy,” you frowned with interest. “Starfleet doesn’t give that out to every med track cadet. Tell me, is it because of your surgical history or in spite of it? A ship should have a functioning doctor as much as it should have a capable one.”
“My surgical performance history is none of your business, ma’am,” he said, trying his damnedest to keep Jim from fidgeting. “You shouldn’t be poking around my file, anyway.”
“As Captain Pike’s hand-picked chief of security,” you said firmly, “my job is to know everything about everyone on that ship, and that includes your file and history. Remarkable as you work is, your history points to you being more than attached to Jim Kirk. I assume he’s the closest thing you have to a friend here, isn’t he? I’m assuming he’s that lovely cadet you’re trying to smuggle on board.” You pointed at Jim’s less-than-functional form, and Bones huffed at how irritatingly right you were.
“And I thought that pointy-eared bastard was the most insufferable person here,” he grumbled.
“But that is Jim Kirk? One of Pike’s, I understand?”
He had heard Jim tell the story of Pike recruiting him before, and even though he wasn’t sure of the details, he just responded with a simple, “Yes, ma’am.”
Bones tried to disguise his relief when you nodded toward the door to the shuttle, looking up at him through your eyelashes (and certainly not in a nice way).
“Don’t make me regret doing this, McCoy. I shouldn’t even bend the rules that much.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He felt your eyes burning with scrutiny into his back as he ushered Jim quickly onto the shuttle.
--
“Buckle up, Bones,” Jim clapped his friend’s back as he headed toward the captain’s chair. Bones had no idea how they’d all lived, but there he was, the inherited CMO of the fleet’s flagship under his closest friend.
This is going to be a nightmare. No one should leave Jim in charge of anything, he thought bitterly. Thank god for medical override.
He made to turn back to medbay, but he spotted you at the security console, and he knew at this point you were the kind of person to leave more questions than answers.
You should not have been up and moving so quickly after that phaser hit.
You should have been grounded for three months on physical therapy alone saving Admiral Pike.
He had tried to pore through your file to get a physical. Every single page, he found, was more confounding than the last.
Classified.
Redacted.
Admiral rank only.
The more he looked, the more red tape had covered your career until your time teaching at the Academy. There was no way you exceeded his age. This was impossible.
He elected to keep quiet about his research as he approached you.
“Lieutenant Commander Y/L/N,” he greeted. “I...think I owe you an apology.”
“I could say the same for you, Doctor,” you nodded earnestly, and this had to be the most shocking thing about you he’d ever heard.
“Sorry?” he blurted in his surprise.
“I must admit, I underestimated you,” you said. “Aviophobia. I thought as soon as the Narada started firing, you’d be headed back dirtside before we left Vulcan.”
“Oh, I wanted to, trust me,” he said dryly. “I’m pretty sure if I leave at this point, though, Jim’ll cause a galaxy-wide incident.”
“That’s what I’m here to prevent, Doctor,” you smirked, eyes twinkling.
“Do my ears deceive me? Did you just crack a joke?”
“I’m full of surprises, McCoy,” you said, “and I think it’s in both of our interests if we just kiss and make up. I’m more than aware that I can be a little off-putting.”
He didn’t know what he could possibly say to that.
“Right...kiss and make up. That...sounds like a good idea for keeping the ship together,” he quickly clarified himself. “The making up part, I guess, though I’m not sure what we ever disagreed about in the first place.
“Good,” you held your hand out to exchange a friendly shake. “I’m looking forward to keeping the ship intact with you.”
He had no idea what the believe about you anymore, but he decided it was in his favor to agree and shake your callous-lined hand.
If you were willing to play nice, the matter of your blackened-out file could rest...at least for the foreseeable future.