Though McCoy wanted to stay to support his best friend and his girlfriend, it became abundantly clear that the paramedics were overwhelmed by the number of injuries. While all planetside commanding officers and their seconds in command were on site in the conference room, the building had also been staffed by a skeleton crew during the evening hours.

He felt a little less guilty about his departure once more security had arrived and they'd set up a perimeter to keep the swarming press and the crowds at bay, setting up a space behind a series of vehicles to treat the injured where they would be out of sight. He'd at least watched two lieutenants escort Jim and Danielle to a space concealed from private eyes prior to entering the ruins of the building with an extra medkit.

Leonard had seen a lot of trauma during his years as a doctor, including their encounter with the Narada, but the scene before him was incomparable. Back then, he'd largely dealt with the aftermath as the injured and dying were brought into his medbay. In the hollowed out husk of Daystrom, he dealt with the carnage at the heart of where it had occurred, surrounded by blood, dismemberment, and faintly dissipating smoke.

Starfleet was already stretched thin after the series of confrontations with Nero, an entire class of future officers having been wiped out. The number of bodies that littered the conference room was only going to make it worse.

He'd taken the dozen flights of stairs up to where the heart of the damage laid, mainly because he could be of the most assistance there due to his extensive experience as a trauma surgeon that far surpassed the history of any other member of the medical team on site. The most serious case was undoubtedly his and it came in the form of a Terran woman in her late thirties with jet black hair, bright blue eyes, and a massive piece of tapered rebar embedded in her abdomen.

She flatlined on him twice and Leonard brought her back from the brink, but the metal was the only thing preventing her from bleeding out. If he removed it, she would die. If he didn't remove it, she would die, too.

He worked with a paramedic to try and extricate it from her body while cauterizing the wound with every centimeter, hoping that by the time the last portion came free, there would not be as much blood to contend with and he could save her. Though he urged her to hang on, the woman whose name he learned halfway through was Theresa ultimately could not withstand that much blood loss and would not be revived after flatlining a final time.

Two hours later, Dr. Leonard McCoy had saved the five remaining trauma patients, but the one loss haunted him. It was only when the last of the survivors had been cleared from the building and he worked with a handful of other doctors to identify the dead that he realized just how gravely Theresa's death would affect him.

A Vulcan paramedic was already tending to Spock with a security officer at her side, asking him questions about the timeline of events. Christopher Pike's body still laid on the black tile beside him, although it seemed someone had been respectful enough to close his eyes.

Preparing and signing his death certificate would have been a conflict of interest for an overwhelming number of reasons, but he was grateful for small miracles when he noticed the doctor assigned to him had been a student in a class he'd TA-ed for at the Academy. Given the man's respect for both Pike and McCoy, he'd allowed him to be the one to identify the body as a favor in an effort to spare the Blake sisters as his next of kin.

It wasn't much, but it was at least something he could do for them in a circumstance that was otherwise out of his hands.

Leonard found Jim and Danielle nearly exactly where he'd left them, except now, the sky had started to lighten on the horizon. He was halfway to their location when he noticed a semi-familiar man taking a nearly identical route. The doctor was emotionally and physically drained, but he summoned up all of his remaining strength to put himself in the older man's path.

"Dr. McCoy," the man addressed him curtly, effectively having been halted in his tracks.

"Admiral Blake," Leonard returned, equally as clipped.

Blake eyed him for a moment with steely blue eyes. "If you wouldn't mind stepping aside, I need to speak with my daughter."

McCoy drew in a short breath. He didn't want, nor need John Blake's permission to build a future with his daughter, so he had no qualms about bringing his plans to a full-stop. "Actually, sir, with all due respect… I do mind."

John's nostrils flared. "Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander?" Leonard had never quite heard someone utter his rank with such disdain before.

"Admiral, your daughter just lost her godfather. She's already grieving." He set his jaw. "If you're not planning on taking off on a mission today, then you don't need a First Officer right this minute."

"… how did you know about Commander Fabian?"

"I'm the one that signed her death certificate." The sounds of warring harsh breaths echoed between them, despite the cacophony that swirled. McCoy was dangerously close to doing something that he knew he would regret, but his protective instincts had kicked in and promptly shifted into overdrive. "Look, sir, I'm sorry for your loss, for the Sagittarius's loss," he offered, trying to unwind the tight coil of anger in his gut, "but there's definitely a better time and there's sure as hell a better place than here to have this discussion. We both know this isn't going to end in anything other than a scene and there are a lot of people here, not to mention reporters."

He knew the surrounding crowd peppered with press would be his trump card as there was nothing that Blake valued anything more than the pips on his imposingly broad shoulders, aside from perhaps his reputation. However, it didn't lessen the itch in his hands to deck him.

"We had a deal, McCoy, and I expect her to honor it," he growled in reply. "She can presume that she will hear from me."

His eyes turned icier than normal with the force of his glare, but rather than allowing the younger man to respond, he turned to stride off towards the barricades. There was no doubt in Leonard's mind that he was about to give interviews to any reporter with valid credentials.

McCoy himself cut a disturbing figure on his return to the triage area. He'd lost his sweatshirt at some point he couldn't remember and his tee shirt and jeans were smeared with blood.

Jim lifted his head at the sight of him, but he waved off any possible concern he was about to encounter. "Bones," he addressed him mildly.

"Jim." The blonde in his arms shifted and damp green eyes landed on his face prior to scanning the length of his body to catalogue the location of the blood. "It's not mine," he quickly asserted as if reading her train of thought. She nodded weakly, otherwise unmoving. McCoy reached to touch her cheek and wipe away a tear with the pad of his thumb, hands clean thanks to several pairs of gloves. The contact appeared to be a comfort, but it also caused her to crack even further.

"I'm sorry," he murmured sincerely, feeling moisture sting at his own eyes. "I'm so sorry, Darlin'. I hope you know how much he loved you and your sister. It was as clear as day to anyone who had the chance to see the way he looked at the both of you."

She sniffled and ducked her head once. "I—I have to call Sam." It was the first time he'd heard her speak in hours. "She deserves to hear it from me, not some random security officer."

"I'll take you back to my place," Jim offered, blue eyes still glassy where he stood next to her. "I'm guessing Bones is needed at the hospital?" He looked to Leonard for confirmation.

"They could use he me," he answered, vaguely confirming what both Jim and Danielle already knew, "but I could also—"

"No." The vehemence in her voice surprised him. "There's nothing you can do, Leo. You can't—no one can fix this," she explained in a voice hoarse from crying. "But there's a lot of people who need you at the hospital. I couldn't live with myself if I made you stay."

McCoy was quiet for a few passing seconds then he dipped his head in acquiescence. "Alright." He kissed her forehead. "I'll be over as soon as I can. Unless I hear otherwise, I'll come meet you at Jim's." He subsequently turned to his friend and grasped his shoulder with a firm hand, hoping that the touch conveyed his gratitude, as well as his condolences. "If you need anything and I don't answer my comm, call the hospital. They can page me wherever I am."

"I will." Though, given the finality of the circumstances, he doubted it'd be necessary. "We'll stop by your place first to pick up anything you need," he told Danielle once he'd turned his gaze on her. "Just in case."

"Right." She blinked slowly at Leonard. "You should go. I don't want to keep you…"

Leonard inhaled and exhaled slowly, marveling at her. Perhaps it was a numbness or a sense of disbelief that kept her from selfishly holding on, or maybe it was just a sense of duty ingrained in her by blood and by her upbringing. Either way, he knew that when his parents passed, Leo did not have even a glimmer of rationality in his body, let alone any compassion for anyone else's suffering in that moment. He didn't think he could have been that selfless.

Before he could stop her, Danielle stepped forward to embrace him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso in total disregard for the crimson staining his shirt. For the few precious moments he held her, he was reminded just how small and fragile she really was. They'd had a close call earlier in the year, but she was so resilient in the face of that adversity, even through the most emotional of moments. The blonde was a pillar, but he realized that even strongest of foundations could crumble when the ground shook violently enough beneath it.

He was a little grateful when she pulled away from him because he wasn't sure he'd have the strength to do it himself. "Go," she implored him. "It's okay."

No goodbye felt appropriate as he looked back at her. All that he could say was that he loved her and he'd be home as soon as he could.

The Californian sun rose over the smoldering remains of Daystrom. Though the attack had been executed hours earlier, they could still hear the sirens of emergency vehicles coming and going on the streets below Jim's apartment.

They hadn't moved all that much since they'd first returned to the empty space after an earlier stop at Danielle's apartment for a change of clothes. He didn't even bother changing out of his dress uniform. Kirk merely answered a few PADD messages expressing condolences and checking in to make sure he was relatively uninjured. The cursory communications from members of the brass were answered politely, albeit succinctly, while the messages from the crew received lengthier replies. Uhura and Sulu had been among the first to express their condolences, though they were not the last to send sentiments that enrobed them in a fresh wave of grief.

Danielle's dress uniform was laid out in Jim's bedroom, draped over one of his dressers. On any other day, there'd have been a joke there that he couldn't pass up, but it died on his lips before it could ever fully form. They'd ultimately retrieved a bag she kept packed with clothes, toiletries, and some other supplies in case of emergency, mainly because she couldn't bear to be in her home for any longer than necessary when she was surrounded by so many things that reminded her of her godfather. So many memories.

Christopher Pike's ghost was everywhere.

At any rate, it meant that she just grabbed the duffel and bolted at the first opportunity without changing her clothes. That had come with a shower at the captain's apartment. Again, another wisecrack had dissipated as quickly as it had sprung to the tip of his tongue.

"He loved you, you know."

Jim's head snapped up. Judging by the look on Danielle's face, she was nearly as shocked as he was that she'd broken the silence. "He—" Kirk stopped. "I don't know what to do now. I've never—" He ran a hand roughly through his flaxen hair. "I didn't get to meet Dad. I don't remember him dying. He's just this… memory, but not even mine."

"I don't know what to do either." Her voice was hoarser than he was used to, likely from all of the crying. "But I guess—I think that if you'd known George, this is how it would have felt."

"You had him for much longer…"

"You didn't know what it was like to have a father before him. Five years, twenty-five years, thirty-five years. What does it matter?" She turned her palm upwards "Before you, he didn't know what it was like to have a son."

Kirk's sad blue eyes studied her in a way she couldn't recall him ever doing before. He was silent, but very clearly considering. "He had you and your sister," he argued when he finally spoke. "He knew what it was like to be a parent, whether it was to a daughter or a son didn't matter."

She shook her head minutely. "Putting aside gender equality, there are things he never got to do with us that he was only ever going to be able to do with you. We're inherently different people, Jim, and that's okay." Danielle shifted on the couch so that her legs were tucked beneath her and her body was angled towards her friend. "He knew I never had any designs on being in command. I still don't. I'm just a simple scientist who likes to occasionally make things explode, but is perpetually curious. That's mostly why I'm in Starfleet. I don't want to be promoted to First Officer, not just because I won't be yours, but because I just don't want the job. Period." The corner of her mouth ticked upwards. "But you… you have the DNA of a leader. You wanted to be a captain and in a way, you were following in his footsteps. Maybe at the start, he saw it as helping shepherd a mentee towards that chair, but somewhere along the way, that stopped being the case and it became him helping guide his son along a path he'd travelled years before.

"He was—" Danielle's voice cracked and she found herself wiping her eyes with the back of a trembling hand. "He was so proud of you, Jim. Even when you were going to be his First Officer, he saw it as a chance to fly with you again for a while and do it right this time. He was exasperated with us both in a way only a father could be, but I could tell—the chance to travel amongst the stars again, the place he loved most of all, with two of his three kids? Even if it was just for a year, in my case?" She lifted her shoulders weakly, as if she was out of words to describe her godfather's elation. "It was a dream he never thought he'd get the chance to see through."

The quiet persisted in the room, save for their breathing and the occasional sniffle mixed with a faint siren outside of the windows. It continued on even as Kirk moved a little closer, just enough to be able to take her hand in a demonstration of what she suspected wasn't just comfort, but solidarity. Then he covered their joined digits with his remaining hand.

"I feel…" he trailed off, searching for a word he couldn't find. "Not lost, but—"

"Unanchored?" she offered instead and Jim promptly deflated. Judging by the way he reacted, Danielle knew she had hit the nail on the head, which only reinforced the unrelenting tragedy of the circumstances. "I know. Me, too."

A/N: I'm so sorry that I've been away for so long, but I promise that I am still working on this fic. This is a portion of the story that is very difficult and emotional to write and hits a little closer to home these days, as my grandmother passed away in February. So I can usually only write it one scene at a time before I need a bit of a break, so my apologies that it was slow going.

The funny part is that the "confrontation" between McCoy and Admiral Blake has actually been in a scrap file for over a year. I could not WAIT to share that scene with you and I am hopeful that you all reacted as I hoped you would. The day within the story is nowhere near over, but this felt like a natural point in which to end the chapter before we pick up with the crew of the Enterprise. I think the pace of the events will move a little faster after this, as I do not intend to write every scene of Star Trek Into Darkness into the story. Just the ones that serve my purpose, but canon won't be ignored. Does that make sense? Yes? Good.

Anyway, since I last posted, I have officially moved into my new house, which makes for a lot of peace and quiet that helps with writing. I'm also going for massage therapy for some post-op side effects from my surgery last December and as you guys may remember, I have this tendency to write an entire chapter in my head during those sessions, so… a little silver lining to the negative there.

Anyway, let me know your thoughts on this chapter. I hope you all are still hanging in there with me and I'll go on the record as saying there is absolutely zero way Paramount lets Chris Pine walk away from the franchise now that the contract issue has "leaked" (I use that term loosely because if you think someone on either Pine or Hemsworth's team didn't leak that to force Paramount's hand, you're crazy—says this lawyer). So don't worry. I'm sure we'll have more canon to draw from VERY soon.

Hope you're all doing well! I appreciate your continued reviews and support so immensely.

Xoxo Elle