Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

We’re all trying to find our new normal, our routines, our places, in this five-year-mission we’ve embarked on. Some things stay the same as they were before Khan, and others change completely. 

One big change is Carol Marcus joining the crew. 

I mean, a lot of people joined the crew after the rechristening, because so many either died or left before it. 

But with Carol it’s different. She doesn’t exactly feel like she’s a part of the little group that Jim and I mainly interact with, the group we still eat meals with, that come over for game nights, but she doesn’t feel like she’s totally on the outside, either. 

And I don’t necessarily want her on the outside, I just like things- relationships, people- in neat little boxes with clearly defined labels. But people and relationships aren’t that clear cut or easy. 

I’m in my room one evening when I hear Jim and Carol talking in the living room and I don’t want to intrude, so I stand there for a moment to try and gauge if it’s a conversation I can walk in on or not. When I hear my name, my ears really perk up. 

“Even if your friends don’t care… won’t Callie mind?” Carol is asking, her lilting, soft voice full of concern. “I mean, game nights have been a tradition for much longer than I’ve been aboard.”

Oh, he wants her to come to game night on Friday. And I'm not sure how I feel about that. 

I can hear the head shake in Jim’s voice, “nah, she won’t mind. I don’t know why she would.”

“I’m already taking up so much of your time. With both of you working shifts all day, the evenings are really the only time you two get together.”  

“Carol, you’re not taking up my time,” Jim implores. “I’m sharing my time with you. And game nights aren’t a private affair for just me and Callie anyway. You’re not intruding, I promise.”

While I agree with the sentiment that it’s not something for just Jim and me, it is true that game nights are already hard for me. It’s a lot of people and a lot of conversations all at once and a lot of foods and smells. I fight sensory overload the whole time. Jim has become my safe person on those evenings. I sit next to him and can lay my cheek against his arm if the room starts to spin. 

If Carol comes, his attention is going to be even more divided, if not on her entirely. 

But maybe it’s time I stop leaning on Jim so much, anyway. Both metaphorically and physically. 

“Well, if you’re sure…” Carol trails off. 

“You’ve been with us for months now. I want you to feel like you belong in the family,” he says. 

And god, she deserves that. She lost her dad, she deserves to have a family here. 

“You’re sweet,” she says back, and I can picture her pecking his cheek. “I’ll come then. What can I bring?”  

And when I walk out of my room a few evenings later to the group gathered to play Scotty’s pick- some old board game- I have to keep my steps from faltering as I find Carol in the spot I usually sit in, leaning close enough to Jim that I can tell she wants to wrap her arms around his for support. 

And god, I can’t blame her. She must feel nervous and awkward and out of place. But dang it if it doesn’t hurt all the while. There’s a spot open on Jim’s other side, but sitting there would just feel… competitive, somehow. 

I scan the chairs, eyes looking for a spot next to Nyota, but they’re filled by Spock and Sulu. As we are waiting for Chekov to arrive, there are a few empty seats I could take, but I feel my body being drawn back to my room as if by magnetic force. 

And Nyota has become less and less of a safe person, anyway. Not that she’s done anything, but since my birthday months and months ago, we’ve interacted less and less. It’s not purposeful, just life on a starship. I’m becoming closer with Christine because that’s who I see everyday now. 

I want to run. I want to hide. I don’t want to sit rigidly all night, trying to not encroach on someone’s bubble. It’s why I feel safe(ish) at dinner in the mess, because I’m sandwiched between Bones and Jim, like two tall walls between the rest of the world and me. I don’t feel bad sitting next to either of them, especially not in between them, because I know if my arm brushes one of theirs or if I sneeze or if I bump someone’s leg when crossing my own, they aren’t going to be annoyed at me or feel uncomfortable. 

So my eyes naturally then search for Bones, and I find him making a drink at the wet bar by the window. I follow his line of sight and find he’s also studying Jim and Carol, trying to hide a scowl on his face. He finishes pouring his drink and I expect him to take the spot next to Jim, but instead he strides to the couch, sitting near the end by Scotty. 

So then, I don’t want to sit by him, seeing as how he and Scotty have a bond and friendship built on being the older ones onboard. It would feel intrusive. 

I’m overthinking every step, and my chest is getting tighter with each heart beat. As much as I had hoped working in medbay would make me used to people, get better at socializing, it seems to have had the opposite effect. 

I’m just about to slowly back back into my room, when Carol looks up and smiles at me, “Callie,” she says happily. “Good evening,” 

All the eyes in the room turn to me and I have no choice but to step forward and wave as casually as I can, “hi…”

Barely pausing in his conversation with Scotty, not even breaking eye contact with him, Bones pops up and walks over to me, gently takes me by the shoulders, and steers me to the couch. I curl up in the spot next to him as he sits down, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as humanly possible. 

My eyes roam all over the board game in front of us all, trying to get a semblance of how the game is likely played based on the pieces and game board. Trying to find some logic, something solid, in this situation to grasp onto. I barely notice my breathing speeding up. 

As Bones resettles next to me, still engrossed in conversation with Scotty, he carefully puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. 

He lays a hand over one of mine that’s got a death grip on my knee, stoking the back of my white knuckled hand gently with his thumb. 

I take the hint and loosen my grip, trying to suck in air. 

The front door swooshes open and Chekov comes in, looking frazzled as he carries a bowl full of presumably piroshky, as he typically makes a batch every week. More often if he’s feeling homesick. 

As he comes over and takes the empty seat on Jim’s other side, it just leaves the spot next to me open, meaning I’m really basically in between Bones and Carol. 

The thought makes me curl into him just a bit more, and as the game starts, he brings his other arm closer to me, sharing the cards he’s been dealt so I don’t have to play an unknown and new-to-me game on my own. 

He talks lowly in my ear in between his quips with Scotty, explaining the game and calming me down. 

I somehow expect myself to start to feel uncomfortable, to feel awkward or like I’m being too needy. But it never happens. I slowly relax, little by little, until I’m casually leaning into Bones’ side, laughing at the story Sulu is telling. 

Still, he keeps an arm around me the whole evening, until the game ends and everyone starts to stand and clean up. 

I expect Jim to settle back into the couch for a movie like we typically do, Bones staying as well, and I even expect Carol to stay. I’ve accepted it, I’ve accepted that I’m not going to be able to fully relax tonight, that Carol is probably here to stay, not just tonight, but for the long term. 

What I don’t expect is for Jim to announce to me and Bones, after everyone else has left, that he and Carol are going to go for a walk through the arboretum, check out the view of the nebula we are studying from there. 

Bones and I share a very brief but very knowing look that they’re going to be checking out a view, but not one of the nebula. 

As the two hurriedly leave, we both roll our eyes as we finish pushing the chairs back where they go. “Some view…” I grumble. 

Bones snorts, “as long as it’s not a view I’m walking in on.”

“Aren’t like- well, like-“ I find myself stammering, my autistic filter worn down after a night of masking. My cheeks flush, “don’t people typically do that stuff with the lights off?”

He glances up, surprise in his eyes, but he just shrugs casually as he ties up the trash. “Depends. Not always.”

I shudder, hating the idea of anyone ever not only getting me naked, but seeing me naked. 

I huff and look around, before I shrug, “alright. Well. Guess I go to bed.”

“Are you actually tired or just bored?”

I sigh, rubbing at my arm uncomfortably. “I mean… no, but… I just really need to decompress, I suppose.”

“I've got the remake of Contagion, finally. We could watch it since Jim’s gone and it’d freak him out to see.”

“The remake of the remake?”

“The remake of the remake of the remake,” he nods towards me with a smirk. 

I snort before I nod, “sure, yeah.” 

He goes to get the movie and I change into sweatpants, scrub the makeup off my face, and throw my hair into a bun. I’ve felt overstimulated all night not just from the people, but the literal mask of proper clothing and makeup I’ve had on, and I’m eager to shed it. 

That’s something that’s been hard for me in medbay, having to mask all day. Everyone tries to tell me not to, but I see the strange looks people outside of the senior medical team give me when I do. No one gets my sense of humor, they think I’m being sarcastic when I’m trying to be nice, and I can feel everyone studying my every move, both bodily and facially. 

Every day I come home and scrub my body down in a hot shower, trying to scrub off both germs and judgment. Then I only have an hour before I have to get dressed yet again in something socially acceptable- not sweatpants and a messy bun- and go to the mess for dinner, where I’m expected to make even more conversation. The constant masking is really taking a toll on me, and I’m desperately trying to not let it show. 

So the evenings when it’s just me, Jim, and Bones have always meant so much to me, because I can actually unmask and unwind. 

But weirdly enough, when it’s just me and Jim, I have difficulty doing that. He wasn’t there when I got the autism diagnosis. He wasn’t there when I was slicing into my skin because I was so overwhelmed. He wasn’t there when Section 31 tried to use my diagnosis against me to take me away. He wasn’t there when Bones taught me to unmask. 

So when it’s just me and Bones… it makes me feel guilty that that’s when I’m most comfortable. That’s when it’s easiest for me to unmask. 

Even more so, because I spent a year with him as my caregiver more than Jim was, he can read me like a book way better than Jim can. 

Bones is the one who can set down food in front of me and distract me enough to get me to eat it. 

Bones is the one who can see when my hypermobility is acting up because I’m trying to hide my winces of pain. He’s also the one I can more easily admit things to about when I don’t feel good. 

Bones is the one who can tell when I start missing my mom without me saying anything. Because he’s a dad who misses his own daughter. 

Bones is the one who can see me start to either get flustered or shut down when I’m doing clinicals without me even saying anything, and then sends me somewhere quiet to compose myself. 

And now, Bones is the one who sees when I feel lost because Jim is becoming more focused on Carol than he is me. 

Or him, for that matter. 

Bones and Jim spent three years in the academy as roommates. Bones was the first and only person Jim ever told about Tarsus. Bones was the one who snuck him onto the Enterprise and is the whole reason he even has command. Bones was the one who was there with him almost every night for the near-year before I came along. Dinners, drinks, movies. So I know Bones has to be feeling his absence just as much as me, if not more. 

Jim’s evening plans have become elusive to us, and we only figure out where he actually is when we ask the computer or hear from someone like Scotty that he saw them- him and Carol- strolling the halls. 

And Jim is entitled to his privacy, he’s entitled to his own relationships, especially after dying and rehabbing for a year. 

I can’t tell if they’re sneaking around because it’s a superior/subordinate relationship they aren’t ready to label, or because they don’t want any scrutiny or questions, or maybe they don’t even know what the relationship really is yet. (Which makes zero sense to my autistic brain because how can you not know exactly what your romantic status is with someone?!)

All I know is that Jim dips out most evenings after dinner, and somewhere along the way, with me busy in medbay and him with his own duties, we stop meeting for lunch. So I really only see him at breakfast, dinner, and in passing, otherwise. 

I’ve always spent my free time alone, my whole life. It’s not like it’s a problem for me. I’m fine being alone. I often think it’s better that I’m alone, since I’m so bad with people and relationships. It’s just that I had gotten used to someone else always being around for the past year or so. 

I’m not far out from my 18th birthday, which means I’m not far out from the anniversary of my mom getting her xenopolycythemia diagnosis. Sometimes I have to wonder if that was just another lie, because I have no idea what, if anything, she told me about her diagnosis was true. 

So without Jim, and without my mom, I’m feeling extra lonely lately, even if I do have Bones. I’m desperately trying not to be a burden on him, trying to not give him any reasons to worry about me. But I know he does, anyway. Christine is busy lately with doing correspondence programs to get her MD, and Nyota and Spock became closer than ever during our year off, so while I know they’re still there for me, I’m always trying to not bother them, either. 

The group chat between me, Auggie, and Cayde is alive and well, but long distance friendships are extremely hard to feel very connected to. But in a way, I feel closer to them than anyone else. Yet, knowing they’re living their own lives, lightyears and lightyears away, forces me to remember how alone I really am. 

And unfortunately, alone, even when it’s your normal, does sometimes get lonely.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s past 12am and I’m still up and about and vacuuming the floors in our quarters. 

It became a weird habit for me, living with my mom, that I’d stay up until early in the morning cleaning. It was the only time of day she wasn’t around to watch and nitpick. The only time of day I was truly alone, was able to go about my business and not be perceived by anyone, let alone anyone as judgemental as her. 

And now that Jim is spending so many nights at Carol’s- genuinely thinking I don’t know he’s gone- I’ve reverted back to the old habit. It’s calming, in a way, to get everything clean and tidy before bed- and while no one is around- so I can wake up to a clean space in the morning. It takes some of the day’s pressure off of me. 

Of course, I don’t need to do any cleaning. We have a porter for that reason, and even Jim’s yeoman, Janice, tidies up the place if need be. But Jim is a neat freak and I don’t want to make anyone clean up after me, so neither of them are much needed. 

Still, I need free time to do something without any pressure on me when I get off of my medbay shift for the day. Coming home to laundry that needs done or a bathroom floor that needs mopped, simply so no one else has to do it, just makes me even more exhausted than I already am at that point in the day. 

So nights like this when Jim is gone, mopping the bathroom floor turns into mopping the floor around the wet bar, since I have the mop out. Doing my laundry turns into grabbing Jim's as well to make it a full load. Tidying up my room turns into tidying up the living room, folding blankets and fluffing pillows. 

So I’m vacuuming, moving from my room to the living room, lost in my own little world, when the door between our quarters and Bones’ slides open and scares me half to death. 

I yank off the headphones I’m wearing, noise cancelling, naturally, and the music I have blaring automatically pauses as I turn off the vacuum cleaner. 

Of course I knew the door was unlocked, it pretty much always is. It’s not like Jim or I walk around undressed, so it’s safe to leave unlocked. And the nights when I’m alone, I actually check to make sure it is unlocked, just in case… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just so I feel less alone. More safe. 

Bones is scowling at me, and I sheepishly set the vacuum upright and turn to face him. 

“Why are you up?” He drawls. 

“Did I wake you? Was I making too much noise? I’m sorry, I-“

He holds up a hand, “I was up. Why are you up?”

I shrug, “cleaning.”

I can tell he holds in a sigh, “is Jim not here?”

I shake my head, “he thinks I don’t know but… yeah, I know when he’s gone.”

“Wait- you’re telling me he’s gone overnight? And often?”

Another sheepish nod. 

“What, he’s sneaking out like a damn teenager?!”

“Hey…” I object with a pout. “I’m a teenager and I don’t sneak out.”

“No, but you stay up all hours cleaning.” He shakes his head, “and why are you?”

I look at the time, 0115. “Not tired,” I answer flatly. 

“Did you take your meds?”

“Not yet,” I lie. I have taken them. They just haven’t been working lately. The times when my brain works overdrive like it has been, when I mask so hard around people that I don’t even know who I really am when alone, not even my sleeping meds can shut it off. 

“That’s why you’re not tired…” he grumbles. “Take your meds at a decent time, and you’ll be in bed by a decent time.”

“But this is my cleaning time!” I object, trying to justify my lie. “This is when it’s quiet and I don’t have anything to do or anywhere to be or anyone to see and I can actually get stuff done.”

“You’re going to burn yourself out if you’re not resting and sleeping enough.”

“I’m a nursing student,” I scoff. “When do I have time for rest?”

He frowns, “are you not getting enough downtime?”

“Of course I am!” Another lie. 

“Then why are you up cleaning instead of sleeping?”

“I told you-“

“Do you do this every night?”

“Yes, but-“

“Then you aren’t getting sufficient rest for your autistic brain and hypermobile body.” He jerks his head to my room, “go take your pills then bring back your blanket and pillow.” 

“Why?”

“Just do it…” he huffs without any real malice. 

I throw my head back and groan but pretend to go do as he says. 

He’s waiting for me in his quarters as I trudge in with my fuzzy blanket and pillow in my arms. “Are you gonna watch me sleep like a creep or something?”

“Something like that,” he says as he waves a hand for me to follow him. 

After the ship was remodeled post-Khan, they gave all the senior staff upgraded rooms, most including a second bedroom to be used as an office. At least, that’s the official reason. Seeing as how we are the first ship with a non-Starfleet long-term occupant, they figured they might as well prepare for the inevitable and plan for bigger quarters with more than one sleeping area. 

So Bones’ quarters now include a second bedroom as opposed to just being a studio style. Instead of making it into an office space, it was my understanding he was keeping it open for Jo, since Jocelyn told him she wasn’t going to fight him on her visiting anymore. But also seeing as how we are planning to be in deep space for 5 years, I think that’s more wishful thinking than anything else. 

That is until I see the room now, for the first time. 

I had expected pink and frills and a room that screams of Joanna, but the room is basically bare, just the standard Starfleet shades of grey. The first thing I notice is a weighted blanket, and my eyes narrow suspiciously. There’s a noise machine on the nightstand, already humming with soft white noise. The room itself is cool, almost frigidly cold. 

It’s strangely the perfect conditions for me to sleep in, specifically. 

I swivel my head to look up at him at the same time he takes my pillow out of my hands and tosses it on the bed. “Wha-“

He takes my blanket and spreads it over the top in one swift motion. Then he looks at me and hold out a hand, “padd.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s bedtime. Gimme your padd.”

I bristle, “I’m not a baby.”

“No, but you need to shut your mind off.”

“What if I want to read?!”

“I’ll get you a book.”

“You want me to just stare at the ceiling?!” I ask, near panic. 

“No,” he sighs. “I can see the exhaustion on your face. Who knows how long you’ve been runnin’ around sleep deprived. I’m just asking you to try and go to sleep. If you’re still wide awake in 20 minutes, fine, come get your padd back. But you need to sleep. You’re going to get burnt out otherwise.”

Oh, if he only knew… 

But he can’t know. 

I sigh, “but I need my padd for an alarm in the morning.”

“I’ll wake you up.”

“I have a bed of my own, you know.”

“Yeah, and you ain’t in it, and you don’t have a brother at home to put you in it. So,” he points, “get in this one.”

I roll my eyes dramatically but relent and crawl under the covers. I ball my fuzzy blanket in my fists up by my face as I lay on my side and let out a breath. 

“Thank you,” he says, self satisfied. 

I grumble, but close my eyes. 

He leans over to drop a kiss on my head before he leaves, and I feel my shoulders relax. I’ve been going to bed so late and so full of tension lately, and so alone, that melting into the bed with someone nearby is more calming than I’ll admit. 

I will also refuse to admit just how quickly I fall asleep. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

One night, I wake up in my bedroom drenched in sweat and thrashing, shaking, barely keeping myself from crying out. I can barely even remember what I was dreaming about, it might have been about Khan, might have been about failing a nursing exam, might have been both. 

I push myself from my now-soaked sheets and change out of my soaking clothes, putting on fresh underwear, sweatpants, and an oversized sweatshirt. 

Still shaking, I turn back to my bed and sigh. I could- should- get in bed on the other, dry side and go back to sleep… But…

I bite my lip and look towards my door, as the memories and details of the nightmare become clearer. I was in medbay, Jim was in surgery with Bones, and it was my job to take care of everyone in the main bay. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t remember anything, not even what the normal blood pressure range is for a human. Everyone started deteriorating under my care, and when the monitors all started to wail, the same way Jim’s had when he was in the SFM ICU and his heart stopped- that’s when I woke up. 

Crossing my arms over myself, shaking like a leaf, I know I need to see Jim at least, to convince myself he’s okay. 

I pad barefoot to his room and find the door open- and his bed empty. 

He had clearly waited until I was asleep to slip out this time. I don’t even need to ask, but I do anyway, “computer- locate Captain Kirk.”

Captain Kirk is on deck 35, crew quarters, cabin 131

He’s with Carol. Of course. 

Still shaking, I go back to my bedroom and stop in the doorway, staring at my bed. 

My ears ring and roar as I strain to hear something, anything. But the silence is a reminder that I’m utterly alone. 

I’m tired, I have an early morning, and I need to go back to sleep, but I know I’m not going to be able to if I’m alone. Not after that nightmare. And god, when did that become the case? When did I become so needy?

I weigh my options, ponder the outcome of each, the consequences of not getting enough sleep tonight, and I sigh, resigned. 

I stalk into my room and grab my pillow and my spare fuzzy blanket before turning on my heel and heading into Bones’ cabin. 

I walk lightly, tiptoeing, not wanting to disturb him yet needing to be in close proximity to someone safe.

But I underestimate the hearing of a man who has years of being a doctor and a dad under his belt, a man who can wake up at the drop of a hat. 

I’m halfway down the hall when his bedroom door slides open and he peers out, jumping slightly when he sees me. He quickly becomes worried instead of surprised, “what’s wrong?” He drawls, voice thick with sleep. 

“Nightmare,” I shrug, pulling my pillow closer to my chest. “Jim’s with Carol and I don’t… I can’t… I won’t go back to sleep if I’m alone.”

His eyes rake over me, and I can tell he’s taking in my damp hair and red eyes, the slump of defeat in my shoulders but the tension on my face. 

He gives a nod before he puts a hand on my back and guides me into his spare room. 

I expect him to leave after I’ve gotten in bed, but instead he perches on the edge, moving to brush my hair back away from my face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Absolutely not. He doesn’t need to know how terrified I am of being inept. He’s going to doubt me if I’m doubting myself. 

I turn on my side and shake my head, “no.”

He hums in acknowledgment but keeps brushing my hair back, fingers lightly trailing my scalp and making me close my eyes as I start to sink into the pillow. 

“I went to find Jim…” I murmur. “Didn’t want to wake him up. Just wanted to see him… I didn’t want to wake you up either…”

“Sh, it’s fine, darlin’,” he hushes me. “Just go back to sleep. I’ll be here if you need me. I promise.” 

“‘M just being a baby…” I pout, already half asleep. 

“No you’re not,” he soothes. “We’re here for you because you need us. Or… we should be…”

“D’n’t be mad at Jim…” I slur. “D’n’t tell ‘im I came here…”

I hear him sigh, and I plead, “please. He deserves… happy…”

“Didn’t he wonder why you weren’t in your room when you slept here last week?”

“He din’t know I was gone.”

“Didn’t-“ he sighs again, and I can tell he’s shaking his head, but he keeps gently brushing my hair back. 

“Please…”

“Alright, I won’t yell at him. But one more time of you needing him and he’s not around, I’m going to say something.”

“Kay…” 

I fall asleep long before he stops stroking my hair. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Ignacio Sanchez: you still up?

Bones glanced at the time, 0239. He shouldn’t have been up, but yet, he was. He just never slept well while in space. Disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence, and all. 

Not that he’d ever let Callie find out he was a fellow insomniac. He had to set some sort of example, especially if Jim wouldn’t. 

He truthfully didn’t even know how often Jim was sleeping at Carol’s. Or with Carol. Not that he wanted to know the latter. He just wanted to know that Callie was looked after. And it seemed the looking after was more so up to him, most days. 

Jim was very good at putting on a front, he always had been. So he knew to show up to breakfast and dinner without Carol and act like everything was normal. He knew not to talk about her. He thought that sneaking out at night to see her would go unnoticed. He thought the constant messaging with a smirk dancing on his face would go unnoticed. But Jim was underestimating both his best friend’s and his sister’s perceptive powers. 

And he had to wonder exactly how Carol felt about basically being Jim’s little secret. Not that anyone who cared to couldn’t figure things out. They were private, subtle, but with as many geniuses as there were on the Enterprise, there were probably more people that knew than they thought. 

And then he had to wonder how secrets being kept affected Callie- whose mother had kept so many secrets from her for her entire life. And he had started to worry that it was an example she’d end up following- keeping secrets she shouldn’t. 

He was able to keep an eye on her more than ever, with her working in medbay every day. If his eyes weren’t on her, one of the other senior medical team members had her in their sights. He insisted she eat in the mess as much as possible. He wouldn’t let her weasel out of their Tuesday night coffee dates. But the fact she could still hide when she wasn’t sleeping was troubling him. Not only because Jim should have been there to make sure she was sleeping, but also because it meant she wasn’t asking for help when she needed it. And that was a slippery slope for her. 

There was a lingering worry in the back of his mind that there were other things she was hiding, but he wasn’t sure. She was still wearing her safety pin necklace he’d gifted her, religiously, he always checked. But knowing she was spending evenings alone without someone to look after her and confide in and be there when she woke up in the middle of the night with a nightmare ate at him. 

He answered Sanchez, yeah. what’s up?

Callie is down here, in your office. Says she can’t sleep so she came to use the medical library. She’s refusing to let us give her anything so she can go to bed. 

He sighed. Keep her there. I’m on my way. 

He knew Callie would just grab the padds she allegedly needed and run off to hide somewhere she could hole up and study until she had to get ready for her shift. 

The fact that Igancio had clearly clocked right away that something was off wasn’t a good sign, either. 

Ignacio was becoming more and more of an aid in identifying when Callie was struggling, since he had lived experience from doing the same with Auggie. 

Still, she was a slippery one, that girl they all loved, and could hide her struggles better than anyone, maybe even better than Jim. So having tangible evidence that she was struggling was going to be the first step in helping her. Even if she didn’t want it. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“So here’s the thing…” Sanchez says to me as I try to leave medbay, arm full of padds. “The boss has a rule that if you show up here for any reason, we’ve gotta call him.”

“But I’m not here because I’m sick,” I object. 

A lie. My head is pounding. That’s the real reason I’m in medbay at almost 3am, I’m trying to sneak some painkillers. 

“Any reason,” he shakes his head. 

I roll my eyes, “that’s idiotic. Don’t go waking him up for no reason. I’m going back home now.”

The look on his face makes me roll my eyes again, “you already called him, didn’t you.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he was already awake.”

“You’re such a snitch,” I roll my eyes one last time, seeing flashing lights as my head pounds behind them. Then my eyes narrow as I ask, “why?”

“He’s always up late,” he shrugs. 

“He’s always-“ my eyes widen, even as the motion makes them water with pain. “Is he a closet insomniac?”

He tries to hide a wince that tells me I probably wasn’t supposed to know that. 

When Bones walks in then, I whirl on him, then have to hide the vertigo the movement gives me, “are you a closet insomniac?”

He shoots Sanchez a withering look and he sheepishly shrugs. 

He looks back at me, “I don’t need much sleep.”

“Oh, but when I say that, I get drugged!” I snap. 

“Because I don’t want you to become a chronic insomniac.”

I scoff, “psh, too late.”

He gives me a look, and Sanchez wisely scurries off before the war begins. 

“Is Jim not home again?”

“No, he is,” I shake my head, a mistake, as it sets off the jackhammer again. “He went to bed early, actually. But he’s there.”

“Why can’t you sleep?”

I shrug, “dunno. Just can’t tonight.”

Lie, lie, lie. 

Would anyone in medbay gladly give me painkillers? Yes, of course. But do I want to have to come up with an excuse for why I have a headache? No, no I don’t. 

Because I simply can’t find a lie to cover it up, that I’m having more and more headaches like I used to. They’re coming on more frequently as I work more and more with people, the more I need to mask and the more pressure I put on myself to keep my head above water. 

The studying, the tests, the long clinical hours, all of it is hard enough for any nursing student. But add my autism, add the fact I have to socialize even outside of school/work, then add my hypermobility which makes my body ache after being on my feet all day, it’s all a whirlwind of overstimulation and stress. 

Then there’s the stress of missing Jim, of not having someone to unwind with, to confide in, to blow off steam with. I have no idea when the last time we threw mek’leths was. I alternate between having pent up energy and burnt out exhaustion all day every day. 

Bones sighs at me, “do you think we need to change your sleeping meds?” He asks softly. 

I shrug, “I don’t know. They work sometimes. Sometimes is better than nothing. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

He cocks his head, raises an eyebrow, “no patient of mine is ever going to be a beggar,” he shakes his head. “‘Sometimes’ isn’t good enough. Let’s try something new.”

“Tomorrow night?” I cut him off. “Please? I don’t want to be drowsy all day tomorrow.”

“You mean today?” He snorts before shaking his head. “Fine, but you do need to go to sleep sometime soon.”

“Which is why I came for reading materials!” I lie. 

He eyes me, “hmph. Fine. But if you’re still not asleep in an hour, I’m taking you off the schedule for the morning.”

“And how would you know?” I snark. “Gonna watch me sleep again?”

“If you actually slept, I wouldn’t have to,” he grumbles, placing a hand on my back to steer me towards the turbolift. 

I can only hope the painkillers from Bones’ personal stash in his desk that I was able to slide up my sleeve before Sanchez found me help knock both the headache and me out. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Hey, Auggie,” I sigh into the camera without really meaning to as I fall into the couch the next day. I never went to sleep, and my day was particularly rough even without that adding to it. “Sorry I’m late. It’s been a day.”

He cocks his head at me from his and Cayde’s dorm back in San Francisco, “you’re like, two minutes late.”

“Yeah, I know. A whole two minutes. I’m the girl that’s always a half hour early to everything. I’ve always said I’m going to be early to my own funeral. Being late dysregulates me like you wouldn’t believe.” I rub at my eyes, “anyway. How was your day?”

He shakes his head at me, “back it up. What’s going on? What happened today?”

I sigh, glancing around the living room as if to double check that I’m really alone, even though I know I am. 

I always am. 

“Just a long day,” I roll my eyes, yanking my hair out of the tight ponytail it’s been in all day. “We had injuries from an away mission to treat all afternoon. A so-called routine scouting mission that turned not so routine when the freaking plants started attacking. The away team came back with injuries ranging from a sprained ankle to a partially severed femoral. I was cleaning and dressing a lesser-injured science officer’s wounds by myself when the guy decided he needed to make sure I was actually qualified to not only treat him, but be in medbay at all by asking all these weird personal questions. How old was I again? Why am I not an academy graduate? Did my brother get me my assignment? Did I even want to be there or would I rather just be off playing video games?”

“He actually asked you that?”

I nod miserably. “And I mean, I get it. I’ve spent my life wary and not trusting any medical providers. But it was just like…” I shake my head. “I dunno. I’m so bad with people, it’s like I take everything way more personally than I should and I know it’s a problem but…”

“But it’s hard not to when it’s literally a personal attack.” He points out. 

I bury a hand in my hair and tug at it gently. Maybe a little rougher than gently. “Then when I was done with him, I went and asked one of the other nurses what else needed to be done. She looked me up and down, rolled her eyes, sighed, and told me to go stock the supply closet. I tried to tell her that I knew that there were still at least a dozen people waiting for treatment- it was a huge away team- but she snapped at me and told me that until I’m a real nurse, I need to realize that I’m just going to be in the way more often than not.”

“Jesus. What did anyone say about that?”

I shrug, “nothing. Because who would I tell?”

“Uh, McCoy, for one?”

I shake my head, “I can’t go running to Bones every time someone is mean to me.”

“But you can tell him when someone is being unprofessional. You know he doesn’t tolerate that type of thing. I know he doesn’t because Boyce doesn’t.”

I pull on my hair again, “I’m not going to get someone reprimanded because they were having a bad day or shift.”

“Yeah, but if I recall correctly, which we both know I do, that’s not the first time another coworker has talked down to you.”

“I’m a student, they're my preceptors. What else should I expect? And I mean, even if they were deserving of a talking to, it would just come off as them needing to treat me better because I’m the captain’s sister, not because I actually deserve respect.”

“Which you do,”

“I guess it’s just stuff I’m used to. Does it eat at me? Yeah, yeah a lot. I hate being disrespected and talked down to and dismissed. It reminds me too much of my mom. But I also know that I’m autistic and people don’t like me simply because they can sense I’m not like them. That I don’t care about social structure and hierarchies. Even when I try to. But also, they all think I don’t care because I think I’m at the top and untouchable because of who my guardians are. It’s a big circle of crap circumstances that I can’t change or control.”

“But you’re going to be miserable if people keep treating you that way.”

I rub at my forehead, my makeup already worn off from running around all day. “I’m already miserable…” I huff quietly, thinking he can’t hear me.

I look up, “everyone says it’s the book work that’s hard in nursing school. The memorizing and learning complex systems and rules and proper steps and procedures. But that stuff has never been hard for me. I love learning and I love learning things that make logical sense, that have rules, like bodies do. But the things that don’t make logical sense? That don’t follow black and white rules? That don’t have set guidelines? Like social interactions and the, quite frankly, customer service side of healthcare… it’s a lot harder than I anticipated.”

He pauses, fiddling with the padd in his lap. “I know what you mean about dealing with people all day, as coworkers, patients, and teachers. It’s a lot. For a while I thought that the only way to survive was by enjoying my downtime. But then I started to hate everything other than my downtime. I started to hate even the parts of nursing I love. And I thought that I just had to push through it. But Boyce picked up on the fact that something was wrong and made me fess up after I quit my meds a while back. After that, he assigned me more time in areas with less forced interactions, less people. Because he said that burning myself out was a very hard place to bounce back from.”

I know what he’s implying I need to do, but I brush him off. “I’m glad you’re on the right track now,” I smile. “I’d hate to lose my studying buddy.”

He doesn’t let me worm out of it as he pointedly says, “and I’d hate to lose mine if she burns out and ends up hiding in the floors somewhere again.”

I snort, again attempting to brush him off again, “that was like, three times, max!”  

He gives me a look that’s all too much like his brother, and I sigh. 

“You have a whole hospital to learn in,” I object, “plus the campus clinic. I only have medbay. I can’t be reassigned or do anything to give me less to do with people. Being with people isn’t just part of my training, it’s going to be part of my job. I have to suck it up and get used to it.”

“You can’t get used to being burnt out, Cal.”

“I just have to build up a better tolerance. A better mask. Then I won’t get burnt out.”

He hesitates, “I think you’re already there.”

I roll my eyes, “then I’ll just have to start sleeping more.”

“You’re barely sleeping at all.”

“Which is why I’m going to start running laps before bed.” Before bed, at midnight when I can’t sleep, same difference. “It’ll clear my mind.”

He hesitates again, that autistic stubbornness of not wanting to let something go when you know you’re right seeping out. “Just… tell someone, if things don’t improve. Please?”

I flash him a small smile, “of course. It’s not like I’ve ever been successful at hiding things from these people anyway,” I snort. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Callie was trying to hide more things than just the sleeping issues from him. 

Because when Bones went into his desk drawer for his spare stylus, of course he noticed a packet of OTC painkillers missing. And he knew not even Jim was so bold as to pilfer meds. 

There had been ten packets there when he’d clocked out the evening before, as there always was, and Callie had been in his office after that, alone, trying to use the flimsy excuse of needing medical texts as her reason for being there. 

It wasn’t as if the meds were under lock and key, anyone on staff, especially everyone in medbay, knew they could ask for them at any time. 

But asking was the regulation. He’d let it slide to even just informing- ‘hey, boss, I grabbed some painkillers.’ Enough away teams returned screaming that headaches weren’t uncommon for his staff. 

But Callie, unable to sleep, clearly in enough pain at three in the morning to the point that she couldn’t ignore it and needed meds, that wasn’t common. Which was likely why she hadn’t asked. She knew he’d ask questions. Questions she clearly didn’t want to answer. 

Because it clearly wasn’t a one off thing, if it had been, if it had been a random headache or even cramps, she wouldn’t have hesitated. But if it were an ongoing issue she knew she’d have trouble covering up, that’s when her swiping meds made the most sense. 

He sighed as he sank into his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to decide what to do. 

Normally, he would have gone straight to Jim, asked him if he knew what was up with her. But the way he’d been disappearing more and more anytime he was off shift, he didn’t think Jim knew much of anything going on with Callie. 

He missed the kid, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

He wanted him to be happy, more than anything else. And damn it, he deserved to be happy, especially after… everything. 

But his happiness couldn’t come at the cost of his sister’s wellbeing. 

So he resigned himself to having a conversation he really didn’t want to have. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

0245 is when I officially give up on sleep. 

You’d think that not sleeping at all the night before would knock me out, but alas, sleep still isn’t coming. 

I change into leggings and a tank top, slide on sneakers,  and slip out of our quarters without even checking to see if Jim is home or not. 

The more stressed I get, the more my body seems to ache. The fact I’m on my feet most of the day doesn’t help, either. The days I’m off, I spend mostly sleeping, and then trying to hide the fact I spent all day sleeping from Jim and Bones. But my hips ache as I lay in bed, even as I toss and turn as I doze in and out. My knees tend to sublux and near dislocate if I sleep super heavy. My ankles keep swelling. And my shoulders, already aching from moving patients around in their beds, snap, crackle, and painfully pop no matter how I lay. 

So my idea to wear myself out by running, I figure, is a good idea, because not only will it get my nervous energy out, it might help strengthen my muscles and stamina for work. 

I pull my hair back in a ponytail as I make my way towards the track, the ship silent well into its gamma shift. My blasting music in my headphones cuts through the quiet as I begin to run, not bothering to even stretch first. 

I savor the burning of my muscles, enjoy the breathlessness running provides, and relish the pounding of my heart in my chest. 

I eventually come to a screeching halt, gasping for air like a person drowning, and lean my hips back against the wall. I place a hand on my chest as I struggle for oxygen, pulling it in as fast as I can. My touch lingers on the necklace I haven’t taken off since Bones gave it to me, the signal to him that I’m okay. 

I gently pull on it, rocking the safety pin from side to side.

As I sink to the ground, my back sliding down the wall, I can’t help but think about taking it off. 

Not as a signal to Bones that I’m not okay, but just an acknowledgment to myself that maybe I’m not. 

But then I scold myself for being overdramatic. I’m fine, I’m just tired. This is a schedule that tons of people keep, easily, at that. So many people have so much more on their plate, how can I possibly feel so burnt out?

I shake my head, angry at myself for being so whiny, so weak.

Who cares if my body hurts? If I’m not sleeping? Can barely eat? Feel nothing but exhaustion and a deep seated pain that I don’t want to fully acknowledge? Because how can I be feeling all that when I don’t even have any real responsibilities? When I’m doing something that I truly do love? I live with my brother for free, I have all my meals cooked for me, I have access to the best education possible and a built-in tutor next door, I have basically nothing to worry about.

I don’t deserve to feel this stressed and burnt out.

I bury my head in my hands, wiping the sweat off my face as I do so. I have to get past this. I have to suck it up. I have to be an adult. 

I have to realize that Jim is also an adult with his own life and schedule. 

I have to realize the same for Christine and Nyota. 

I have to remember Auggie has his own schooling to focus on. 

I have to stop leaning on Bones so much. 

I’ve forgotten, it seems, over the last couple of years what it’s like to be truly self-sufficient. I was purely self-sufficient for years, growing up with my mom. I didn’t count on anybody because I didn’t have anybody. 

And I need to realize again that all I really have is myself. That everyone eventually moves on with their own lives, and that I need to do the same. 

I push myself to my feet and start back towards our quarters, exhaustion finally weighing me down. 

As I climb into bed after a quick shower, I resolve resolutely to start to focus purely on my work and studies, because that’s what adults do. I have to stop thinking that I can thrive right now, and focus on just surviving. I need to let people go and do what needs to be done. 

Because as it has been proven to me time and again, all I really have is myself. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As loathe as he was to have to stare out the viewscreen, Bones did spend a lot of his time on the bridge. 

He would say it was because most everyone on the bridge were the people who most often ignored their medical needs and required a close eye be kept on them. But sometimes, he just liked visiting his friends. Not that he’d ever admit to that. 

So when the turbolift doors opened and he stepped foot onto the bridge, no one was surprised to see him. Spock even gave him a respectful nod as he made his way up to Jim’s side where he sat in the captain’s chair. 

“Bones!” Jim smiled up at him happily, “to what do we owe the honor of your presence?”

He tucked his arms behind his back, “just making my rounds,” he said nonchalantly. “I have a report to go over with you, if you have a moment. Privately.”

Jim nodded, standing immediately, “I’ll be in my ready room, Mr. Spock,” he called out. “You have the conn.”

Once they were in the ready room, Jim plopped himself behind his desk and looked at his best friend expectantly, “where’s the report?”

“It’s more of a verbal one,” he said, crossing his arms as he remained standing. “It’s about Callie.”

Jim stiffened, leaning forward with his forearms braced against the desk, “what about her?”

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face before putting his hands on his hips. “She’s struggling and hiding it. She’s not sleeping, she’s hiding pain, she swiped painkillers without saying anything-“

“She stole meds?” Jim gasped. 

“No, she dipped into the OTC stash without askin’ first. And that ain’t like her. I mean, it is, but she’s never gone that far before. She usually owns up to needing help, at least she had started to…” 

“She hasn’t said anything,” Jim said quickly, shaking his head. “And I haven’t noticed anything-“

“Have you been around to?” He cut in softly. 

Jim’s face hardened just a smidge, “what do you mean?”

“I mean you ain’t as subtle as you think, kid. I mean that when you’re gone overnight, Callie misses you. So much so she ends up sleepin’ in my spare room.”

Jim seemed to pale slightly at that, “she does?”

“A few times now, yeah. After I’ve found her awake in the middle of the night. I don’t know exactly why she’s not sleeping, but bein’ alone ain’t helpin’.”

Jim cursed under his breath, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t… I mean, I don’t…” he sighed and cursed again, more colorfully. He rubbed at his forehead, “she’s almost eighteen. I don’t want her to feel… babysat. She’s busy all day, everyday, I kind of just thought she’d want time alone after being around people all day.”

“And that’s a thoughtful gesture,” he nodded gently, moving to sit down in one of the two chairs across from his desk. “You understand that she has a tolerance threshold. And, like you said, she’s almost eighteen. But,” he paused poignantly, “she’s almost eighteen. She’s still a kid, Jim, even if she don’t wanna admit it. She’s a kid who needs the only blood relative in her life to actually be in her life. To be more than a ship passing in the night. She doesn’t need babysat, but she needs you present, even if she doesn’t say so. Even if she doesn’t think she does.”

Jim fiddled with his hands in his lap, same way Callie did whenever she got nervous. “I was on my own, at her age,” he said roughly. “And it sucked. It sucked not having anyone to lean on. Anyone to count on.”

“And I’m not sayin’ that you’re the only one she has. I’m just sayin’ you’re her blood- and as much of a duty you have towards your crew, you also have towards your blood.”

He nodded, “you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” he said gruffly, but with a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth all the while. “She just needs to know you’re there for her, and actions matter more than words, given her history.”

“I don’t have much experience with blood family sticking around long enough to even have the chance to show up for them,” he mused. 

“Well, now you do,” he said gently. He pushed himself to stand, “don’t mess it up.”

“What are you going to do?” Jim asked suddenly, worry in his voice. “About the meds, I mean.”

He shrugged, “I’m not going to corner her about it. Not yet, at least. If I push her too soon… she’ll close herself off even more. I want to avoid that, see if we can draw her out. Together.”

Jim nodded before pausing, “…why didn’t I know about this stash of free for all meds?”

Len rolled his eyes and turned to leave, “I think you know the answer to that.”

Jim smirked good naturedly, but stayed seated even after he left. 

For long minutes, he sat, lost in thought, his friend’s words echoing through his head. Especially the part about loyalty to his blood.

Then he turned his attention to the monitor on his desktop, and, after a few more minutes of contemplation, he opened a message he’d been avoiding.