dark_ages | landing party ( for thecanarylives )

[ It really isn't Jim's fault that this has happened. Leonard just got reckless and stupid, letting himself relax when he should've been alert for native presence. After all, he and Sara had gathered a bit of attention to themselves down there, and leading the way to where the shuttle was, he just got too relaxed and they were caught halfway there.

He's yet to learn that the ship did in fact manage to get the shuttle back, as well as their makeshift satellite device. But right now his focus is on the team, although none of them seem to have suffered quite as much as he has, probably the result of some of the locals recognizing his face from before. Still, he's acting like none of it affects him, and with one hand on his nose and another on a bone healing tool aimed at his own face, he pulls and yanks on his own nose, setting it straight again.

It comes with a loud, pained yell and a few colorful expletives, but with the bone healing tool the bleeding quickly stops and the swelling soon starts to go down, only leaving the ugly splotches of blood behind to be cleaned.

Still panting and reeling from that pain, his eyes move across the room, only to find Sara standing in the middle of medical. ]

Sara? What the hell are you doing here?

[ Basically, if she's here to yell at him for being an idiot, please don't. ]

[ She's kept herself busy the past few days, blaming herself for the mission gone south. If she hadn't been so sloppy and gotten herself stabbed, if she'd followed her instincts and headed off the locals before they'd gotten the chance to attack, she could've been on the clean up mission and none of this would've happened. They wouldn't have been so bent on revenge, she could've been there protect him - them. The team.

The sharp grunt of pain sends a shudder up her spine and she clenches her fists instinctively, fingertips itching to do something, anything that might help. When she finally lays eyes on him, the worn, beaten down, bloodied state of him, her gaze softens and something in the pit of her gut twists hard, stopping her in her tracks. ]

Christ, what the hell did they do to you? [ Her words are just above a murmur, and she draws closer to his bed, gaze scanning him up and down. ]

What does it look like they did to me?

[ Looks like they beat him up, is what. He says it in a softer tone regardless, an eyebrow raising despite his state once that initial pain and shock subsides, and the regenerator is done healing his nose. ]

I'm fine. Nothing some good reliable modern medicine won't fix, and I'll be on my feet by the end of today. I'd say you should've seen the other guy, but...

[ Well, Leonard didn't really put up much of a fight, particularly knowing he'd just end up getting killed faster if he stood up to such a large group. Or forced to watch as they killed the others on the team. ]

[ The quip is probably supposed to be light-hearted, like knowing he'll heal is supposed to be comforting, make it okay that he looks like he's just been put through a garbage disposal. But Sara's brow just furrows, something defeated in her eyes as she reaches out, but thinks better of it and sets her hands on the arm rest of his bed. ]

I should've been there.

[ She shakes her head. She should be relieved that he's back in one pieces, but now that it's over there's only that flood of guilt. That she should've done better. ]

[ His eyes flicker to her when she approaches, noting the way she almost reaches out, then retreats. It's weirdly nice, even if only for a moment, to think that all this time she was this worried about him specifically. But he also doesn't want that to weigh on her mind. ]

So what, you should just be on every away mission that ever happens? You know that's not happening, Sara. There are always going to be other missions, and there will be times where we'll get a little more banged up. It's par for the course. I know what I signed up for.

[ He may be a doctor above all else, but he is a Starfleet Officer too. He may lack the level of skill or practice that she has, but he's gone through the training, the experience, all that jazz. She shouldn't be feeling like he constantly needs someone there to save his useless ass. ]

[ For the first day or so, she'd made a fairly concerted effort to pretend all that stress and anxiety was for the good of the whole team. But as the hours ticked by, and news came back that McCoy himself had been taken, she was fairly sure the crew was starting to get a clearer picture of just why she was getting so upset at a side mission gone south. ]

It was my fault. [ Her voice is tight, clipped. Her brow furrowed down as she stares down at her hands, grasping the arm rest at his side. ] They took you because of what I did to their tribe. If I hadn't... [ She shakes her head again. ] If they'd... Leonard, they could've killed you...

[ Yeah, he's starting to get the feeling that the crew is getting all sorts of clear pictures, and he can only imagine how affected Sara must've looked by all this for them to be watched as intently as they are being now. He manages to glare at one of the ensigns that's hanging by his bed just because, scaring him into dropping a tray with various tools before he hastily picks them up and makes a run for it. ]

Shit. Okay, I'm too banged up for this conversation. Hold on.

[ He barks at a nurse to bring the wrap leg regenerator, which is going to be a pain to get around his own leg but he'll manage. Then he nods to Sara. ]

Get me a decent scanner, then pull the privacy dividers.

[ It's not a room so it's not perfect, but it will block out most of their conversation, so no one can listen in or try to take a peek like it's any of their damn business. ]

Edited 2020-08-17 18:10 (UTC)

[ It's likely a combination of his sleeping next to her bed after her stab wound and her irritability and worry after he went missing, plus the mildly unprofessional profile picture that's still up on her social profile. She's past caring what the crew thinks, though, too caught up in the anxiety of possibly losing him the past few days to pay attention to the gossip.

Now, though, she's realizing the hole she's dug herself into. How stupid and reckless all of it was, how completely unprepared she is for whatever conversation he's planning on having.

Her attention flits to the nurse, then back at him, and she straightens a little, taking her hands off the bedside. ]

No, it's fine. I'll get out of your way. [ She puts on a small smile, attempting to at least feign professionalism, pretend like now that he's back, the job's done. Mission complete. ]

[ Leonard realizes the moment that she decides that it's best to just up and leave now, in the way her frame straightens and she pulls her hands from the bed. He reaches out for her arm before she can go, urging her to look at him. Too late for damage control now, he's pretty sure. ]

Then why come here in the first place? Why show that you care only to act like it's no big deal after all?

[ He presses his lips in, knowing full well that this is possibly the worst place to have this conversation, but he can't just let her go like that. ]

Why won't you just talk to me, Sara?

[ She stiffens at his touch, but doesn't pull away. Glancing up to meet his gaze, she lingers for a moment, the breath tight in her throat. Already all too aware of the many pairs of eyes currently on them, she lets her voice drop to a soft murmur. ]

Not here, okay? [ If she has to do this - and she does owe him that much - then she sure as hell isn't doing it with an audience. She shifts to take his hand from her arm, brushing her thumb over the back of his wrist and setting it back on the bed. ] Get some rest. I'll come by tonight.

[ He's quiet but he lets her move his hand, nodding slowly. She is right, this isn't the place, and it's best to just wait until later. ]

I'll be in my quarters. [ He says it without thinking twice, then quickly adds. ] But we can meet elsewhere.

[ She shrugs it off, putting on another smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. ]

It's fine. I'll drop by after my shift.

[ She lets her fingertips linger against the bedside a moment, then takes a step back. ] See you, Doc.

--

[ She's running late. Partly because training went longer than expected, but also because she's been taking her sweet time. Tidying up the gym, getting in her own nightly workout, showering and changing into a fresh uniform. A time or two - okay, more than that - she's half-convinced herself not to show, but besides the fact that it's still her fault he'd end up kidnapped and beaten to a pulp, there's still that aching need inside her to see him again. And not just to make sure he's properly healed.

It's late into the night, so the hallway's empty enough that she won't be spotted by too many curious eyes. She's had the bulk of the day to think of what the hell she's supposed to say to him tonight, and yet, by the time she's buzzing the door to his quarters, she's still come up with nothing. ]

[ The healing process doesn't actually take too long. He ends up asking the nurse for help in getting the wrap around his leg, then he programs it to fix the broken bones on his leg, a process that takes a few hours. But once that's done he's good as new, and the nurse's had all that ample time to take care of his fractured ribs, as well as any other scrapes and bruises he might still have.

With that done, all that's left is cleaning up the mess. The rest of the team wasn't nearly as banged up as him so they've all left a while back, and he's not exactly eager to dive into work right now, so he gives himself the rest of the day off.

He takes a long, hot shower to clear all the dirt and blood and sweat off, shoving his torn up uniform into the replicator and getting himself a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Then he lies down on the bed, aiming to just have some rest, but ends up passing out completely.

He doesn't wake up until there's that buzz on his door. Groggy and disoriented, he checks the clock, then lets out a hissed curse as he gets to his feet, tries to fix his hair a little so it doesn't look like he's literally just climbed out of bed, and he rushes to go open the door. ]

Sara.

[ A breath, an awkward pause, then he gestures inside. ] Come on in.

[ She's fresh from the showers, hair still wet and piled into a bun at the top of her head. The Starfleet-issue training joggers and tanktop she usually wears have the embroidered red stripes down the side and across the shoulder, her gym bag slung over her shoulder.

The door hisses open and she looks up at him, the tussle of his hair and the weariness in his eyes, an apologetic smile tugging at her lips. ]

I can come back. You need to rest... [ Still, she follows him through the doorway anyway, because she's being stupid and postponing this conversation won't make it go away. ]

Are you kidding? I've just slept through the whole day. I think I'm good on rest.

[ If anything he won't be able to fall asleep again now, but he can always find some work to catch up on. First, however, he does think that they need to have this conversation and clear things up between them once and for all. ]

Right, then. Let's just... sit down and talk about what happened today?

[ Never mind that she’s going on day 3 of little to no sleep.

He gets right down to business, and she tries not to look too much like she’s dreading it. Leaning back to perch against the edge of his desk, she crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs. ]

You mean when I almost lost my shit ‘cause I thought you might be dead?

Almost?

[ He can't resist delivering that with some amusement. She looked very much like she lost her shit back in sick bay, so much so that even in the midst of the confusion, a good portion of his officers were more focused on what was going on near his bed than anything else.

He heaves a sigh, shaking his head. ]

Look, Sara. What you did back down on that planet was save our lives. If you hadn't knocked them out, we'd likely be dead, or still stranded down there.

[ He pauses. ]

But I also don't think that was the only reason why you went up to sick bay, today.

[ She glances down at her feet. He's right. And he hadn't even seen the multiple melt downs she'd had in tactical trying to track him down.

The furrow of her brow deepens as he speaks, and she tightens the cross of her arms before lifting her head to look up at him again. ]

What do you want me to say? That the mission didn't really matter until you went missing? That it scared the hell out of me when I thought you weren't coming back?

[ He sighs and sinks into a seat on the couch, weight falling limply like he's just too tired to argue. About anything. He never wanted an argument, least of all with her, and he honestly hopes that this isn't where this conversation is headed. ]

What I want... is to understand. You tell me you don't want anything serious, but then you get upset that I broke off what should've essentially been a purely physical relationship. And not even a long one, at that. You pull away from me, and then there you are, almost losing your mind over me going missing during a mission.

I just... Jesus, Sara. I don't want to argue with you. I just want to understand what you want from me.

[ She hadn’t come here to argue. She’s not even really sure why he’s here, except that he deserves some kind of clarity, and she knows she’s given him none of that since the day they’d supposedly decided to go their separate ways.

Christ, they weren’t even dating.

She hesitates a moment, attempting to find the right words. ]

It’s not about what I want. I care about you, Leonard. You know that. But people like me... we don’t get the things we want. The people we want.

[ She’s being vague and confusing again. She shakes her head, lifting her head to meet his gaze. ]

If I tell you the truth, about all the shit I’ve done, about who I really am... I lose you. That’s it. I guess I’ve just been trying to pretend that’s not true. Or prolong the inevitable.

[ He just stares at her. It's a dramatic answer, too dramatic, and touching on cliché a little, but he says nothing to it. He just crosses his arms and is quiet for a good, long while, staring at her. ]

So, let me see if I get this straight.

[ He shifts on the couch, sits a little more upright, clears his throat. ]

If you do tell me, there's the chance I'll be a complete ass and reject you because of whatever you've had to do to survive, and we aren't together.

If you don't tell me, we just don't talk about shit, we each go on our own way, and again, we aren't together.

[ He just lets the logic of that settle in her mind. ]

It's fine to say you just don't trust me enough to tell me. You don't wanna take that risk, you don't want to get hurt? That's fair, I can accept that. But it's not fair of you to decide for me what I will or won't understand. And don't try to turn that choice not to tell me about your past on me.

[ If he thinks that's cliche, he should meet the people she used to run around with. Dramatic doesn't even begin to cover the past decade of her life, and she's seen the judgment, the heartbreak, the disgust that comes with learning about who she used to be.

She listens to him lay out the fallacy in her own actions, the nonsense of the decisions she's been making on his behalf, biting her tongue and clenching her jaw as he argues his way through what she knows is true. ]

Fine, alright? It's stupid and it's fucking selfish. Is that you wanna hear? [ She can hear the waver in her voice, the tightness in her throat. She pushes herself up to pace along the wall near the door, sucking in a breath and dragging a hand over her face. Finally, mustering up some sense of resolve, she turns back to face him. ]

I was League of Assassins. I got paid to put people down. I wasn't doing it to survive, I wasn't forced into it. It was who I was. Sometimes I think it still is.

No, that's not what I want to hear.

[ The last thing he wants is to sit here listening to her berate and criticize herself, he just wants to figure out what she truly wants. Friendship clearly wasn't going to work all that well, so keeping their distance is what made sense. But her visit to the sick bay has made it obvious that she can't quite bring herself to do that.

He falls quiet as she turns, with the distinct feeling that she's about to drop something heavy. So he's both shocked and not at what she says next, the silence heavy as it lingers for a good while, until finally he lets out a breath. ]

Alright. Okay. [ He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Well that's a bomb, alright. But he looks up at her at last, as he gestures to the empty spot on the couch next to him. ] Can you please sit so we can talk properly? You're driving me crazy, pacin' around the room.

[ She’s prepared for him to tell her to go. Look at her with some kind of disappointment, anger, distaste. She’s watching him curiously for his reaction, some morbid curiosity or sense of getting what she deserves.

She’s sure as hell not expecting him to ask for her to sit. She stares at him a moment, brow cocking.

You want to sit and talk about it?

[ She hesitates, skeptical even as she crosses the room and sinks down into the cushion next to him. ]

[ He rises both eyebrows at her question. ]

Isn't that what we're here for? To talk?

[ He waits until she's sitting down next to him, letting a pause rest between them, just to give them a moment to calm down. Let everything settle. ]

Alright. Tell me more— about it. How did you end up with them?

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