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The Cook-Off

Summary:

At first, the gloriously feminine and fascinating object of Jim’s affections seemed to embody the perfect source of blame for their rocky marriage. Who could possibly compete with a beautiful siren? A vibrant TV personality? That sexy toss of glorious red hair? That inviting smile? Every action evocative of a confidence McCoy simply didn’t have?

 

It certainly wouldn’t be him. He didn’t know who he was anymore. When he looked in the mirror each morning—a stranger stared back.

Notes:

I truly meant to post this story after I had finished it — but I have no self-control, obviously. Bear with me as I have yet another WIP on the board. ;) There will be one more chapter.

I’d meant for this fic to be a one-shot but it grew, having a mind of its own, as these fics tend to do. I hope you enjoy the next part to this Jim and his McCoy’s story. I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to sharing this particular part. Writing Gaila is SO. MUCH. FUN. (Oh, why did they have to kill her off?)

Thank you, diamondblue4, for betaing this for me. If only I had your mad editing skills! <3

I dedicate this to everyone who loves cooking and baking. Including three of my closest Trekkie friends. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

McCoy wasn’t sure who was to blame, exactly. He just wanted to attach the blame to someone so he could finally breathe. Not live. He didn’t deserve that. Breathe. He just wanted to breathe.

 

At first, the gloriously feminine and fascinating object of Jim’s affections seemed to embody the perfect source of blame for their rocky marriage. Who could possibly compete with a beautiful siren? A vibrant TV personality? That sexy toss of glorious red hair? That inviting smile? Every action evocative of a confidence McCoy simply didn’t have?

 

It certainly wouldn’t be him. He didn’t know who he was anymore. When he looked in the mirror each morning—a stranger stared back.

 

 

When he couldn’t squelch the guilt, he shifted the blame to Kevin, the rising star who seems to effortlessly replace Jim in the cinematic world.

 

Followed by Ben, who didn’t have to even ask what was troubling McCoy. Those wise eyes had witnessed so much pain in his own life that it had taken Ben mere seconds to see right through him.

 

Followed by Spock, when McCoy’s flagging self-confidence intensified his struggle to believe that his relationship with Jim was unchanged and unthreatened. The stoic man had, after all, initially encouraged the friendship between Jim and Gaila, a stance that had taken McCoy by surprise. No, by a choke-hold.

 

Pike could not escape his wrath, either. Although, deep down, McCoy knew all the old man wanted with his whole heart was to see Jim get a taste of his old independence again. Something they all wanted for him.

 

And Jim. The younger man had taken the brunt of the blame and the force of McCoy’s unfounded jealousy time and time again.

 

If this wasn’t poetic justice...

 

Now that he’d discovered the deep, dark truth of his error—that no one was at fault—not even him—he was alone to take it in and reap the consequences.

 

McCoy squeezed back tears, a ragged breath escaping him as he thought of his husband, without him who should be there by his side. God, why had he left in the first place? He’d been so stupid to let things get this badly between them, forgetting that he hadn’t married just Jim, but Jim and his illness.

 

There was no point in rehashing his poor choices when the future was so uncertain, but he couldn’t help but wonder when, exactly, things had unraveled one more time.

 

He prayed he could make it up to Jim before time, capricious and uncaring, reared its ugly head again. If it hadn’t already.

 

McCoy had the scans—the test results—in his hand.

 

And Jim—

 

McCoy dropped his head in his hands, papers crumpling within his shaking palms.

 

—Jim did not.

 

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Two months ago….

 

Gabby wasn’t merely a friend to Jim. She was a lifeline. Not a moment went by, except for the short time it took Leonard to walk her outside, that he was without her.

 

He relied on her and her warm presence when he watched TV, which still wasn’t very often even now, more than a year after Kevin’s interview. That he’d been nervous the first time he sat down to watch a prime time show, drama or otherwise, in a day when personalities and actors and actresses vied more than ever for popularity with cheap shots, was an understatement.

 

He didn’t want to go down that rabbit-hole again, an experience that he didn’t exactly remember except for the feeling of sheer terror it gave him.

 

“They’re talking about how to get rid of gray hair, Bones.”

 

Bones jumped over the back of the couch and plopped down down beside him. “Yeah?” He reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Jim’s lap without looking, stuffing the buttery goodness into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten all day.

 

Jim watched him, smiling. “You got some corn on your chin there—“

 

Bones wiped it off and grabbed another handful of his favorite snack. “Thanks.”

 

“And some new gray hairs,” Jim added, frowning as he inspected the sides of his husband’s head.

 

Bones rolled his eyes. “I know that, Jim.”

 

“Just thought you’d want to know I could, um, see them.”

 

Bones stared at him. “They bother you, is that what you’re saying?”

 

Jim blinked quickly, his thoughts tumbling one after another in a panic that he didn’t quite understand. “No, but I thought, I mean, I remember you hated them. Plucked them out.”

 

“You mean you do.”

 

Jim didn’t, not really. His confusion grew. “I thought...you, well…that everyone does…”

 

When Bones’ face went blank, Jim backpedaled. “Never mind,” he mumbled.

 

They stared at each other quietly. It was the most uncomfortable moment they’d had in...Jim didn’t know when. Maybe forever.

 

“...don’t they?” Jim added in a belated whisper.

 

Leonard seemed to deflate. “In your line of work, I guess they do. Youthful looks matter. More than to most people.”

 

Jim looked straight ahead. “I don’t have a line of work.”

 

Not anymore.

 

That was still a sore subject, considering all he’d lost, and he changed the subject at the same time as he flipped the channels on the remote with his greasy fingers, until he came to the one he wanted. The show he planned to watch. The one that had captured his attention.

 

Lifeguard turned celebrity chef, Gaila, on Eat Your Heart Out.

 

Her innovative cooking style and surprising recipes were a way better distraction than trying to hide signs of aging, or thinking about aging, or wanting to kick himself for saying stupid things.

 

In fact, Gaila never said the wrong thing—and she looked like she hadn’t aged a day past twenty. Her complexion was clear and wrinkle-free, glowing like no other skin he’d ever seen. As if she were from a different planet. And he’d heard that she never wore makeup, except for her usual lipstick.

 

He smiled to himself and thought of aliens, again.

 

He’d almost accepted a role which had his character stranded on Mars once. He should’ve taken it. Maybe he would’ve had an alien costar.

 

Now that would have been fun, almost as much fun as Gaila.

 

“What are you all googly-eyed about?” Leonard leaned forward, narrowing his eyes on the enthusiastic crowd cheering as the show opened live. “This is on again?”

 

“It’s a series now, Bones.”

 

“Yeah? Since when?”

 

Jim shrugged. “I’ve been watching it for a little while, I think. A few weeks? When you take Gabby out in the evening. Kevin was the celebrity guest the second week. I remember that much.”

 

Gaila suddenly appeared, waving with both hands, her high heels as crimson as the hue on her lips, not quite as orange-red as her hair. But Jim was struck even more by the recipe that had flipped across the screen in her signature scrawl. It was legible and carefree—two things he really wasn’t. He still couldn’t keep things straight and his handwriting was atrocious. And, he was a burden.

 

Gaila fixed things, she made things, she moved with an ease he didn’t have. She could even crack open an egg with one hand, stir cookie batter and dance at the same time, and stand beside an oven without breaking into a sweat.

 

At least, when he watched the show, he could pretend he was someone else. Someone more like his old self. The man he’d been before...

 

He could be like her in his daydreams.

 

He remembered, maybe, people wanting to be like him and him not liking it, but this was different, wasn’t it? Gaila was teaching them how to make the food. Jim never tried to teach people how to act.

 

And this meal looked different. Jim thought he liked different. Different defined him, and where he was in life. What was it that Dad always told him? You’re a funny fish, Jimmy, but our fish.

 

He tried to memorize every detail about the plated food. A spicy appetizer for chocolatiers—and Jim loved chocolate—followed by a lasagna recipe with a secret ingredient that already had his mouth watering despite the fact she used kale instead of spinach, his favorite.

 

But, if Gaila liked using kale, maybe it would be something he liked, too.

 

Bones chuckled after a moment, when Gaila and her guest and the other host were three steps into making the appetizer, and Jim’s stomach hurt from laughing at their conversation. “Cheatin’ on me, eh?” Bones asked, teasingly.

 

“Can I eat spicy foods?” Jim asked absently.

 

“You never had a problem before with it.”

 

“Good.” He paused. “Then, I need to get that stuff. Everything on her list.”

 

“I’m allergic to lasagna.”

 

Jim whipped his head around to stare at him. “But it’s pasta. You like pasta, right?”

 

Bones broke into a smile. “I’m kidding, you,” he said, leaning over to brush his cheek with a kiss. “It isn’t my favorite but I can deal.”

 

Jim nodded. “I’ll cook.”

 

His husband’s brows hiked to his hairline. “You’ll what now?”

 

“I can cook.” He threw him a lopsided grin. “With help, of course.”

 

Bones slipped an arm across his shoulders, bringing him closer, until he heard Bones’s comforting heartbeat in his ear. “You know I can’t resist that smile,” he murmured into his hair, quietly, as Ben came into the room with his dinner and sat on one of the recliners.

 

Ben made a low hum of satisfaction as he watched, which he always did when Gaila made masterpieces before their very eyes. Like he was tasting one of her dishes.

 

It made Jim happy that Ben liked the show as much as he did.

 

“Kanzi, I hope you are writing this one down in your head,” Ben said joyfully, making Jim laugh, as only he could. “Someday, you will make this. Maybe even better than the chef!”

 

And Jim, as he watched Gaila until his eyes were closing, could not help but notice the kindness she showed to everyone who walked onto her set.

 

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Seven weeks ago…

 

“She said she’d love to have me back on the show, if the producers agree,” Kevin said.

 

Jim’s mouth dropped open.

 

He quickly snapped it shut, relieved he hadn’t actually met Kevin yet, and was talking face-to-face with him, because he would’ve looked like an idiot. And he hated looking stupid in front of people.

 

But a repeat appearance? He was so pleased to hear it—Kevin was his friend, after all—that he stammered into his cell. “R-really?’

 

“Yep.”

 

“You going?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ve got a busy schedule. Not like you,” Kevin teased him. “I’m not the one who gets to take two naps everyday.”

 

Jim grunted. “Even with the nap, I can’t keep it all straight. I have to work on the book with Dad, and then my PT with Bones and that other guy, several times a day. And Ben’s kids always find me. Not that I mind. They make me feel useful.”

 

They’d arrived from Africa less than a month ago, Ben’s wife and children. Now Jim’s morning consisted of listening to audios on the deck—while watching the children alternate between playing frisbee with Gabby and baseball with the father. When they finished their game of chase, Jim always had lemonade in tall glasses with ice waiting for them, with a mint leaf on the side, and Bones had more than his fair share of stories to tell them about his childhood in the Deep South. Jim had to admit, they were entertaining. Bones had been one rebellious kid, which had surprised him, and even more so as a teenager.

 

“Don’t let it bother you, too much,” Kevin said. “Not running around. Frisbee’s overrated, anyway.”

 

“Bones has been talking to you about me again?” He’d always known Bones needed to know for himself that other people were watching out for him, too, and that was okay. He didn’t want Bones to be solely responsible for him.

 

“I can hear them,” Kevin said. “They’re playing ball, aren’t they?”

 

Jim almost smiled, glancing out into the yard as Ben’s youngest son rounded third, which was marked by a soft seed sack. “Yeah. Bones, too.”

 

“He cares about you, Jim.”

 

“I know.”

 

But there was one subject that bothered Jim. No matter how hard he tried to understand the good intentions behind it.

 

He was beginning to truly feel like a real shut-in these days. His parents and Bones walked circles around him. Especially Bones. Like he was a piece of fine china. Fragile and easily breakable.

 

And thanks to people who didn’t understand what had happened to him, who gave him condescending stares and asked questions that went over his head, or directed them at Bones or his other caretakers and not at him, he was reduced to feeling subhuman on a daily basis.

 

The thought of which made him feel even worse.

 

Suffering? That was a joke, of course. What he was experiencing wasn’t true suffering. Even at his worst.

 

Ben’s family—they were the ones who’d suffered. And their friends. And the people who weren’t friends but living in neighboring villages. Families without water. Food. A safe place to live. Fathers, mothers, young children forced into backbreaking work that whittled them down to bony flesh, separated from each other, sometimes with no memory of their loved ones but their final cries for help.

 

That realization haunted Jim at night.

 

He was lucky compared to many in the world.

 

He was alive. He had lived longer than he’d expected to live after his first diagnosis. He had more money in the bank than he could use in one lifetime. He was married to a wonderful man, someone he didn’t feel he deserved. Some people said Jim was even more good-looking than ever now. His mother had remarried and was happy, which meant the world to Jim, too. He had friends who cared, who didn’t live halfway across the world.

 

And he had the perfect dog. Gabby was both his right arm and his pillow.

 

He really didn’t have a single thing to complain about, did he?

 

So why did he feel this frustrated and unfulfilled with his life?

 

“Yeah,” he said, his heart squeezing tightly. “I know.”

 

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Six-and-a-half weeks ago

 

“I want to be like her,” Jim said breathlessly.

 

“Who? Gabs?” Leonard crouched down in the middle of the narrow pathway and rubbed Gabby behind the ears. “I have to agree. I’d love to get as much attention as she does. But it’s the treats that are the most enticing.” He smiled at Gabby. “Right, girl?”

 

Jim dragged one foot behind him as he walked, but he didn’t stop. Like the determined man he was, he walked for a half hour at least once a day despite his usual struggle to keep up. Leonard kept watch on him from the corner of his eye. But not too carefully. Jim didn’t like it when he was the nagging husband. Not on days like this, soon after a seizure had affected his mobility.

 

“No, not Gabs.” Jim said, moving ahead of Leonard. Gabby left Leonard’s side and immediately trotted beside Jim, where she knew she belonged.

 

Leonard set a slow pace to keep in time with Jim without making it obvious. “Your mom? I hate to break it to ya, but you already are like her. You both snore, or so I’m told.”

 

Jim laughed and shook his head. “Gaila.”

 

Leonard looked to high heaven, biting back a long-suffering sigh. That was the twelfth—maybe twentieth—time Jim had mentioned her name this day, alone. “Like her that much, huh?”

 

“She has this way about her. I don’t know...how to explain it...she makes me.. and others feel...she....” Jim frowned, his voice trailing away.

 

“She’s flamboyant.”

 

Jim scrunched his nose. “She cares.”

 

“I saw on the news that the producers are looking for out-of-the-box guests to have on her show,” Leonard said slowly, watching Jim for his reaction.

 

“Out of the box,” Jim repeated, mimicking Leonard’s inflection. “What does that mean?”

 

“Different.”

 

His eyes brightened. “Oh. That’s like me. Different.”

 

Leonard bit his bottom lip. “You’re my different, Jim,” he murmured.

 

“I mean, that’s me—oh.” Jim stopped in his tracks, suddenly wavering on his feet.

 

Leonard’s arm shot out to steady him. “Let’s call it a day, all right?”

 

“But…”

 

“You had a seizure recently, Jim,” he reminded him. “Less than twenty-four hours ago.”

 

“But…” Jim gripped his forearms, eyes widening with the hope that Leonard had unthinkingly put there himself. “That’s me.”

 

It took Leonard a moment to drop his gaze from Jim’s and give him the answer he didn’t want to hear. “No.”

 

So many things could go wrong, if he encourages Jim in this strange obsession, all of them out of their control.

 

Jim’s grip loosened on Leonard’s arms. “No? But...you said…”

 

Leonard thought quickly and lied, for the first time, to his husband. “I know what I said, but I thought you might have a suggestion. A colleague that was looking for something new…”

 

Jim stepped back from him, the warmth Leonard so loved leaving his eyes, too. “Different.”

 

Leonard refused to look down at his feet. He’d own this, even if he couldn’t tell Jim the truth. “Yes.”

 

“I don’t even have colleagues I still talk to,” Jim said, glaring angrily at him. “You know that.”

 

He shook his head. “You do,” he countered. “There’s Ny, and Spock…”

 

“My friends?”

 

“They were actors, first,” he pointed out.

 

“But they’re friends, and I—”

 

“Think about it. Isn’t Spock into cooking exotic dishes?”

 

Jim’s mouth fell open. “Isn’t…” He gave a short laugh. “Are you serious?”

 

“Spock is nothing but serious,” Leonard muttered.

 

“I can’t believe this,” Jim whispered, his eyes watering.

 

“Jim, I…didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

 

Jim sucked in a breath. “Yes, you did,” he whispered, and turned on his heel without another word.

 

But the younger man’s lame foot was his undoing. Coming down on a rock, Jim lurched, off balance, as his foot turned sideways on the uneven surface. A rock Leonard should’ve seen. Should’ve known was there.

 

Leonard’s mind scrambled to make sense of the situation—to undo all of his failings—as Jim started to fall.

 

Gabby reached Jim before the switch in Leonard’s damn brain flipped on and allowed him to move.

 

Despite landing on Gabby, the situation went from bad to worse. Jim reached out wildly for McCoy, in a desperate attempt to break his fall.

 

Leonard, adrenaline flooding his body as his fear for Jim suddenly spiked, was finally able to move, but it was too little, too late. He cried out as the back of Jim’s head slammed against the concrete of the pathway.

 

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Six weeks ago…

 

“No, Bones. For the tenth time, I don’t have a headache.”

 

Although he was tired of the constant motherhenning, Jim allowed Bones to grab his hand and hold it tightly as they drove home from the hospital. Even though…it was useless. Everything was useless. He was useless. He was going to stop watching TV, he was so useless. It only got him into trouble. He knew that now. It was too much of a risk, and it scared Bones.

 

“Hey,” Bones said softly.

 

Tears pricked the back of Jim’s eyes, but to avoid the inevitable query about it, he looked in the opposite direction. He wouldn’t let Bones nag him about those, too. He stared out the window, lost in his thoughts.

 

The trees blurred by, much like his life felt at this point. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass. He longed for his old life back, a return to the way it had been before the tumor had ravaged it all. He longed for it even if it meant he’d be alone.

 

Jim’s stomach churned. He knew he shouldn’t have thought something so horrible—he would not want to be without Bones—but sometimes. Sometimes…

 

Sometimes he just had bad thoughts. Especially after his doctor appointments.

 

“You do have a headache,” Bones said, his concerned drawl thicker than ever.

 

“Yeah,” Jim answered in monotone.

 

He should feel badly about lying, but he was relieved for the excuse, and the escape the window afforded him. He could look somewhere else other than at the man who confounded him lately, without making it obvious that he was avoiding his husband's gaze.

 

“I’ll tell Ben that the kids can’t come over tonight,” Bones said with a sideways glance.

 

He released Jim’s hand and reached over to caress his forehead. Jim closed his eyes, relishing the warmth and concern against his will.

 

“You need to rest,” Bones murmured.

 

“No...no,” Jim said, staring down at his hands. He let them lie limply on his lap. He probably shouldn’t tell Bones he felt like he could sleep for a week. “Let them come. I’ll just...go to bed early.”

 

Bones dropped his hand, eyes fixing on the road ahead. “If you’re sure.”

 

Jim nodded once. “It’s good for them—and you—to have a family.”

 

“Okay,” Bones said. “If that’s what you want. I’ll help you up the stairs after an early supper, if you’d like the peace and quiet of your old room. We really should get that lift installed soon.”

 

Jim sighed. There Bones went again, about that lift. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money to pay for the expensive contraption—he could afford five of them, if he wanted. He just detested the thought of using one, being limited. And one he went down that route, what was next? He’d put it off as long as possible.

 

No one understood how much he hated how his body demanded these concessions from him, his health forcing him to become a man who couldn’t manage well on his own.

 

For the rest of the ride home, Bones’s hand weighed heavily on Jim’s shoulder.

 

It held him there. But it wasn’t a rock. Or an anchor. Or a comfort. It wasn’t anything like it had been when they were first married, or even six months ago.

 

It felt like a burden. A reminder of his own growing bitterness.

 

But Jim didn’t bother moving a muscle to try and get out from underneath it.

 

He would only fail. Again.

 

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Five weeks ago…

 

“Go on, you two,” Winona said, shooing McCoy and Chris out the living room. “I’ll take care of Jim. He knows you planned on leaving, right? I don’t want him to wake up and be shocked you're gone.”

 

“Yeah,” McCoy said, dutifully following his father-in-law. “He knows.”

 

Now, if he’d remember, that was a different story.

 

Chris watched him closely. “We don’t have to, you know. The back porch or your office would do fine.”

 

“No,” he clipped out, feeling short on words, already. While he didn’t exactly feel like a social butterfly, he needed to get away from Jim. Although part of him worried that every moment he spent away from Jim was just tearing their marriage apart, he was going to say something wrong to Jim, or do something he’d regret if he didn’t put space between them for a bit.

 

But leaving...it really did feel like a crime. They didn’t talk like they used to—Jim was always watching that damn show. And know Kevin was calling him everyday about it, which just encouraged Jim.

 

McCoy had already invested in a pair of ear plugs. He’d even use them once—okay, maybe twice—when Jim was watching Gaila’s prime time special.

 

He swore if he heard that woman’s peal of laughter one more damn ti—

 

“Leonard?”

 

McCoy snapped to attention.

 

“Are you okay?” Winona said.

 

He met Winona’s eyes guiltily, then turned his head to see Chris getting into his car.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”

 

She reached out and clutched his elbow before he could take another step, peering into his face. “Take care of yourself. I know how much of a strain caring for my son can be. I did it for over twenty years, under different circumstances, but the last few were the hardest of all. Jim’s needs are unique—but so are yours. Remember that.”

 

“I appreciate your concern,” he said, managing a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

 

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“So,” Chris began. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you—or do I have to pry it out of you with some of the best coffee in town?”

 

He’d never seen Leonard so out of sorts. The younger man had misordered not once, but twice, and still hadn’t touched his food. A plate no Southern-born and raised man would ignore.

 

Leonard poked at his biscuits, dragging yet another bite into the gravy and leaving it there. He didn’t even glance at the cobbler to the side. “I think we need some time apart.”

 

Chris frowned. “Well, I admit I’ve a little hard on you when it comes to Jim, especially this last year, but, really, we don’t even see each—”

 

“Not you,” Leonard said, scowling. “Jim.”

 

Chris set his fork down, leaving the rest of his steak untouched. “What’s this about?”

 

“We keep…” Leonard hesitated. “Arguing. We can’t even have a conversation without one of us drawing up short.”

 

“I’ve noticed something has been off,” Chris said cautiously. “But don’t you think the best thing to do would see a counselor?”

 

Leonard shot him a dirty look. “So you think this is my fault?”

 

“I didn’t say just you, did I?” Chris replied. “Therapy wouldn’t hurt Jim, either. In fact, I know he hasn’t followed up with his since his last appointment. It takes two people, working together, to make a marriage.”

 

“Tell that to Jim,” Leonard muttered, throwing his napkin down. “You don’t know...you don’t see...he’s like a child. He acts like one, constantly. I have to watch out for him every second of the day.”

 

“That is what you signed up for, isn’t it?” Chris asked.

 

“Of course it isn’t,” Leonard muttered.

 

Chris settled back in his chair, crossing his arms. “No?”

 

“I mean...yes...” Leonard winced. “But…also no. I hate to see him like this, but I also love him. But he…” He blew out a shaky sigh. “He’s getting worse.”

 

“You thought he’d get better once you were by his side legally,” Chris surmised.

 

Leonard shrugged. “I guess?”

 

“Life doesn’t work that way.”

 

“Believe me, I wasn’t under any illusions.” His voice grew quiet. “Just hopeful.”

 

“You have to take it a day at a time.”

 

“When I want a whole future with him?” Leonard barked out a short laugh. “When I’m planning for the next thing to go wrong with him?”

 

“You need to find a balance, Leonard.”

 

“You don’t think I know that? Do you realize that he wears a permanent tracker now, so I know without a shadow of a doubt where he is? And not just one, either. That watch I got him tells me where he is every minute of every day, and Gabby’s collar.”

 

Chris was stunned. He hadn’t known. “I’m sorry,” he said when he found his voice, aching in his heart for the both of them. “Thank you for taking care of our son.”

 

Leonard shrugged, glancing away at a bare spot on the wall. “He’d do the same for me,” he muttered.

 

But it sounded like he wasn’t quite sure.

 

“Of course he would,” Chris said gently. “Would it help to tell you that we’ve planned something that could possibly get Jim back on track?”

 

Leonard’s brow twitched. “Planned something? Like a party?”

 

Chris smiled. “Hell, no. Something...different. Something better.”

 

“What?”

 

“Kevin pulled some strings.”

 

Leonard stared at him unblinkingly. “He pulled some strings.” He worked his jaw. “Kevin. That’s great. Just great.”

 

Leaning forward, Chris narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t even said what it is, yet.”

 

“Oh, believe me, I’m quite shocked already,” Leonard deadpanned. “And what, exactly, did Kevin plan?”

 

Chris’s smile widened. He couldn’t wait to see the surprise on Jim’s face when he told him. “You know that cooking show Jimmy likes so much?”

 

“Yes,” Leonard said in a tight, controlled voice Chris didn’t quite understand. “How could I not? He watches it every damn—every day.”

 

Chris laughed. “That he does. I suppose you can’t ignore someone as outgoing and engaging as Gaila, now, can you? Well, Kevin asked if she’d meet Jim on his own turf. She agreed to stop over in a few days and surprise Jim, all on her own time. No producers, no television. Just old-fashioned cooking and baking. I think this is just what the two of you need. Something to lift Jim’s spirits.”

 

Leonard swallowed and pushed his plate away. It scraped against the table with a wretched, shuddering sound. “Yeah. Just what we need.”

 

 

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Four-and-a-half weeks ago….

 

“Is she here yet?” Jim asked, running into Bones as he tried to reign in his excitement. “Is she here? Is she?”

 

Bones reached up with both hands and grasped Jim’s shoulders, steadying him. “Calm down. Ny said she just pulled in.” Bones let go, only to yank on the refrigerator door, opening it with more force than Jim would have liked and causing the door to slam into one of the counters.

 

He winced. “That fridge is new, Bones—”

 

“It’s steel. It can take it,” Bones muttered. He peered at the crowded shelves, scowling. “You really needed all of this for today?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“We have no room.”

 

Jim grinned. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

 

Bones sighed and let the refrigerator door close with a resounding thud. “You have an appointment tomorrow morning, bright and early, Jim.”

 

He nodded. “I know. She knows.”

 

Bones wasn’t listening. He pulled his headset closer to his mouth and spoke into it. “She’s coming to the door, Ny?”

 

“Ask her what she’s wearing,” Jim whispers to him.

 

Bones frowned. “Ny, wait—“ He covers the microphone. “Her outfit? Really, Jim?”

 

“I don’t want to clash.” He had nightmares about it.

 

“It’s not like you’re going to be on a big screen.”

 

Jim felt a prick of sadness. “I know,” he said sullenly.

 

“Fine.” Bones sighed after a long pause. “Ny, Jim wants to know—“

 

Jim suddenly remembered. “Wait!”

 

Bones stopped mid-sentence, mouth tightening. “Hold on, Ny.” He gave Jim a dark look. “What now?”

 

“Is she in heels? Those red ones are as tall as the Eiffel Tower.” In Paris, where she wanted to vacation, or so she’d said on her last show. “She really could hurt herself on our front step if she’s not careful.”

 

“I’m sure she’s watching where she’s going,” Bones said through clenched teeth.

 

“Could you check. Please?” Jim had to beg. “I’d hate for something to happen to her, and then she would want to leave, and not come back, and it would reflect badly on Kevin—“

 

“Ny,” Bones growled. “Don’t let her go up the stairs. I’m coming out to escort her myself.”

 

Jim could hardly contain his excitement as he followed Bones out of the kitchen to the hallway. “Be nice, okay?”

 

“I’m always nice,” Bones retorted.

 

A wave of nausea overcame him. But maybe he was sick of the way Bones kept treating him.

 

A second wave caused him to stumble, and he tripped, slumping forward into Bones, who stopped and sighed.. “What,” he said tightly. When Jim said nothing, he started to walk again.

 

The room spun. “Oh, my God,” Jim whined, clutching Bones’s arm and pulling at it. “Wait. I—sick—”

 

He groaned, and wrapped his other arm around his stomach. How could he feel so ill? Everything had been going so well.

 

Bones came to a halt, twisting his head to stare at him. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

 

“I think I might throw up on you,” he said hoarsely.

 

“That’s just nerves, Jim.”

 

“Oh. Right.” Jim laughed shakily. “But I think—I’m gonna—”

 

Nausea welled in his throat until he was sure it was coming out of his ears.

 

He covered his mouth, gagging like he was some dumb starry-eyed teenager, not a damn adult who— “Oh, God,” he muffled out.

 

Bones‘s eyes widened. “Christ—

 

“I—”

 

“Jim, wait—”

 

There was no waiting. Jim wanted to cry. He thought he was actually was crying. He leaned over, too sick to—to—

 

A second later, Bones stared down at his shoes in dismay. “Dammit, Jim!”

 

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Leonard had thought he was having a bad day—until Jim entered the kitchen wearing that new shirt he had bought him for their anniversary, that blue one that brought his eyes, also wearing a dazed look that could come from only one person these days, but that would be as difficult to get rid of as it would the stink on a skunked dog.

 

Just great.

 

It wasn’t just a bad day. This was an atrocious no-good day from hell.

 

“Oh, my God,” the red-haired woman squealed. She ran up to Jim with a bright smile and gave him a crushing hug. “You’re even cuter in person, Jimmy.”

 

“J-Jimmy?” Jim stammered.

 

She gasped, stepping back. “Is that okay? You’re just so sweet, Sugar, I can’t stand it.”

 

Jim blushed a deep crimson. “Uh, sure? My dad calls me that.”

 

“Oh, and no wonder.” She clapped her hands. “Oh, I can just tell we’re going to have so much fun.”

 

And, then, she had the audacity to lean over and kiss him on the goddamn cheek, staining it with the imprint of her sinfully perfect red lips.

 

Jim dazedly touched his cheek.

 

No, there was no going back.

 

Gaila, queen of the kitchen, was now queen of his husband’s heart.

 

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Ben remained by Kanzi’s side the entire evening, watching over him, helping him, making sure he didn’t fall or forget to take his medication, because Jim’s husband did not.

 

He was happy to be of help, but he was sad for the couple. This should be a joyful time, seeing Kanzi’s dream come true. Instead, Mr. McCoy loomed on the outskirts of the kitchen, giving Miss Gaila looks that would fry a chicken. Occasionally he would sneak something from the refrigerator when he thought no one was looking, like one of Ben’s sons would when he was feeling ornery. He then spilled the only gallon of milk they had, after taking a huge swallow straight from the plastic jug.

 

That wasn’t all.

 

He’d even gotten a toothbrush he’d been using to clean the fine grooves of the kitchen tile stuck in Gaila’s thick, curly hair, like a hyena tangled in a trap of brush. This distracted Kanzi after all of his hard work, which in turn distracted Gaila. They forgot to watch the timer. They pulled the anticipated lasagna from the oven too late, dismayed at the burnt edges.

 

An accident, Leonard had said, while they ate what was salvageable. Although Jim and Gaila had believed him, Ben suspected Gaila knew exactly what had happened for she invited herself over the following week.

 

The look on Leonard’s face....

 

Yet no one—not even Leonard—could refuse Kanzi.

 

Ben sighed, determined to at least approach Leonard and remind him Kanzi would need his assistance—his gentle assistance—as he prepares for bed.

 

Sabotage was not becoming. Not to anyone.

 

Even if they were hurting where no one could see.

 

And especially if the other was hurting, his depression festering.

 

Yes, Kanzi was keeping a secret, too.

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Notes:

Thank you for reading! Reviews are always welcome!