Disclaimer—Recognizable character belongs to Gene Roddenberry, re-imagined by the wonderful JJ Abrams. Any similarity to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Notes—Big thanks to vintagepearl for taking a look and insisting I post. You're the best, Girlie! First foray into "movie" fanfic.

Feedback—Always greatly appreciated.

For the Best—How McCoy lost the whole damn planet in the divorce.

Bones.

That was all that was left of Dr. Leonard McCoy as he listened to the judge repeat everything that had been "agreed" to at the settlement conference the day before.

He didn't even have any skin left. She and her attorneys had whittled away all that was soft and fleshy until there was nothing left of him. She'd taken the house, the vehicle, and most of his retirement—what little he'd been able to save during their union.

He wondered seriously what he was paying his attorney for. Maybe, had he represented himself, he could've at least saved a little face. He still would've lost everything, but he wouldn't have had to pay exorbitant legal fees. It wouldn't have been insult to injury.

When the gavel closed the case and dismissed the court, McCoy found himself startled. So, that was what the death of a marriage sounded like.

His attorney clapped his shoulder but he could offer no words of comfort or encouragement. How could he?

Her father.

That was going to make work delightful. Her father was Chief of Staff at the hospital where he worked. That was how they'd met. He'd introduced the eager young doctor, fresh from medical school, to his beguiling daughter.

Evil troll of a matchmaker.

He started to leave the courtroom when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Leonard."

He knew he should run, not walk, to the exit followed immediately by a stop at the nearest bar but he found himself dumbly looking into the eyes of his now former father-in-law. "Sir."

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that your time at our hospital was... stellar."

The past tense wasn't lost on him, nor was the unspoken word that hung thick in the air. "But?" he prompted.

The older man offered a jovial smile. "Our Leonard. Always keenly aware of the circumstances."

He wanted to correct him, that "our" obviously didn't apply any longer because, clearly, between being taken to the cleaners by both his attorney and his now former wife, he'd been fired.

"She's at the hospital all the time. Volunteering."

Had she been employed properly, maybe he could've kept more of his assets. He held up his hand. "I just hope you'll still offer me that 'stellar' review as I apply other places."

"Well, see, I got to thinking about your strengths, your expertise... I know exactly who needs you and, well, I made a few phone calls for you, greased a few wheels."

McCoy felt his stomach drop to his toes. Just how long had his demise been planned?

He removed an envelope from his interior jacket pocket and presented it to him. The United Federation of Planets logo was unmistakable.

"Starfleet?" he asked, tearing into the envelope. The letter inside proclaimed his acceptance. "You recommended me to the Starfleet Academy?"

"With the possibility of you two running into each other down here..."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "It's a big ole world. I'd say it'd be slim-to-none."

"It's for the best. For both of you."

He knew full well that his best interests were long since gone. Either awarded to her in the divorce along with everything else or they'd packed up and moved across the globe of their own volition. Space. God, the thought made his skin crawl. "And if I refuse?"

The genial smile vanished from the older man's face. "Then, good luck finding another hospital that'll take you." The threat was subtle but McCoy knew it was very real.

He spotted his ex-wife demurely waiting with her pack of vicious land-shark lawyers. She'd always wanted the world, to get her way. This was no exception and he knew it. "Starfleet. That's just... stellar," he muttered.

End.