You Can't Be Too Careful [Star Trek/Leonard "Bones" McCoy Love Story]

[27.] Damsel In Distress

A/N: Okay, I lied. I found a way to update early. x) It's a short chapter, but it's what I've got, so :P I hope y'all enjoy! Thanks for being so supportive! You're all the bestest! <3

For reals this time though, the next update will most likely be April 26 or May 3 depending on my time. x) Annnd that's it! Without further ado, I give you chapter 27!

This one's for AlannaMaier, for being so dang awesome and sweet all the time! <3

[27] Damsel in Distress

(Bones’ P.O.V.)

            I had been afraid before.

            I had been afraid when I went off to college. I had been afraid when proposing to my first wife. I had been afraid (though I don’t like to admit it) when I was losing her. I had been afraid when our entire ship succumbed to gravity and tumbled through the atmosphere. I had been afraid when I saw my best friend was dying. But nothing could compare to the fear I felt when I saw Catherine walk through that door.

            Her usually rosy complexion was as white as a sheet, and those sweet brown eyes that usually sparkled with life were glassy and distant. Her entire right side was soaked with blood and vomit, and her hair looked like a hive of bees had torn through it. And finally, her wrist bone was protruding a good three inches out from her hand. I had seen many breaks in my life, being a doctor and all, but I had never seen something so critical.

            As I carried her to a table, I could hardly keep myself from going into shock. I allowed the medical orders to roll off my tongue, and I was able to begin the procedure without so much as a second thought about what I was doing. But I wasn’t completely focusing on what was happening. All I could focus on was how sick she looked, and how much I wanted to save her, and how hopeless everything seemed.

            We fixed her wrist, but the blood loss almost killed her. By the end of the procedure, the entire area was covered with crimson fluid and we were trying with all of our might to slow our pounding hearts. But she was safe. The bone was reset, the hole stitched up, and a brand new cast had been applied to her arm. Sustenance was being fed into her system through a tube. We had found a way to replenish the amount of blood she had lost. Still, I couldn’t stop worrying about her.

            Overnight, we transferred all of our patients to our main building in San Francisco. I had spent the last 48 hours with the other patients, especially Kirk, but all I wanted to do was be with her. I passed the time by mindlessly taking care of my responsibilities. I wanted to concentrate on my patients so that I might forget how worried I was, if only for a little while, but the image of her sallow face would not leave my head.

            Finally, after two straight days of tending to others, I decided it was time to visit her. My heart ached. My hands trembled. My head swam. And yet, I kept walking towards her room, almost like I was in a trance.

            Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and entered her room.

            She had improved since I had last seen her. Some color had returned to her face, and her hair had been combed. I quickly checked her vitals and found, to my great relief, that her breathing patterns were normal and her heart rate perfect. I sighed and pulled a chair up next to the bed. Catherine was sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling naturally.

            As I looked at her, tears sprung to my eyes. Catherine-my clumsy, nerdy, beautiful, strong Catherine-was shattered. Not just her body, but also her spirit. I saw it in her eyes when she entered into the Medbay. She looked so scared, which was expected, but she also looked… empty. I saw an unsatisfied desperation in her eyes. She was yearning for something that she had not yet obtained. And I knew, because I had seen that look in my own eyes after realizing that she was in danger.

            I swallowed hard and took her good hand in mine, subconsciously stroking my thumb across the top of it. I dropped my head forward and planted a lingering kiss on the edge of her thumb, squeezing my eyes shut so as to stop the tears from falling. All I wanted was for her to wake up and look at me with those dazzling eyes and that darling smile. I wanted to hold her close and never let go. I wanted to kiss her and tell her that I would always keep her safe.

            It was in that moment that I realized that’s all I really wanted: to keep her safe. Catherine, though strong and unbelievably stubborn, was an accident waiting to happen. And as endearing as her clumsiness was, it was dangerous. Even when she wasn’t being a klutz, she always seemed to be attracting danger. First, it was her leg. Then, it was Jordan. Next, it was her ankle. And now, it was her wrist. As courageous as she was, Catherine was a damsel in distress. More importantly, she was my damsel in distress.

            I almost laughed thinking about it that way. If she heard me calling her anything that implied she was weak in any way, she would slug me. She was convinced she could take care of herself. But I knew better. She needed someone to be there for her and keep her safe and save her from the danger that so evidently followed in her footsteps. Even if she was able to take care of herself, I didn’t want her to. I wanted to take care of her.

            I frowned. All of the times she had hurt herself in the past, I was there for her. When she sliced her leg open, I was there to clean her up. When Jordan tried to kill her, I was there to snatch her from the edge of the roof. When she had twisted her ankle, I was there to help her walk. When her dad died, I was there to comfort her. But this time…this time I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to pick her back up and shield her from the war she had been swept into. I wasn’t there to nurse her wounds until the last possible minute, when it was beyond crucial to do so. I wasn’t there to reassure her. Bottom line, I wasn’t there. In fact, I had almost been too late. And the idea of that happening again terrified me.

            With a deep sigh, I lifted my head and looked at her once more.

            “Please wake up,” I whispered to the silence. “Please wake up…I love you…”

            I stopped short. Did I just say that I loved her? Loved her? I had lost all will to even remotely think about anyone romantically ever since my first marriage failed. I could say that I loved Catherine. How was that even possible? It wasn’t.

            But there was no denying it. I did love her. I loved her more than anything.

            And that’s when it finally dawned on me: I was in love with Catherine Elizabeth Taylor.

…But the most crushing thing was that I could only hope that she loved me too.

            Startled by my own revelation, I stood abruptly from her bedside, dropped her hand, and exited the room as quickly as my feet could carry me. And yet, with every step I took, I longed to turn on my heel and go right back.