Title: You called me and I came home to your heart
Fandom: Star Trek reboot with various crossovers
Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine; title from Browning.
Pairings: none, as yet
Point of view: third
Notes: written for reel_startrek to prompt Sky High
More notes: thanks to stillane for reading over two scenes
Still more notes: the crossovers should be fairly obvious, but if you're wondering and can't figure it out, feel free to ask.
On Leonard McCoy's first day at Starfleet Academy for Gifted Students, he accidentally got in the middle of fight. Since of the two combatants one had superstrength and the other impenetrable skin, Leonard was the only one hurt: his right arm broke so badly the bone poked out in three places.
Spock quit fighting the moment he realized someone else had gotten involved. Nero didn't stop until Coach Pike froze him in place.
Leonard's arm healed, of course. And Jim Kirk invited him to a table full of kids and insisted on calling him Bones.
Leonard was awake before dawn, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, imagining every single thing that could go wrong. He knew that his backpack was all ready to go, lunch was being paid for by Principal Wayne, the schedule was set and he'd walked it—but they'd realize they'd made a mistake and they'd send him away, the police would arrest him for what happened, everyone would know he had blood on his hands—
"Hey, Leo, breathe," Wally said, one hand on Leonard's shoulder. "Kiddo, just breathe. Everything'll be alright."
Wally made breakfast. Leonard picked at his helping while Wally worked his way through three.
"So," Wally said. "You know where your classes are?"
"And you have all your books?"
Leonard nodded again.
"You'll be fine, Leo," Wally told him. "Bruce doesn't make mistakes like that."
Leonard took a forkful of cold eggs and didn't answer.
"Do you want me to go with you to Bruce's office?" Wally asked.
Leonard shook his head. "I'll be fine," he said. He forced a smile. "Don't worry about me."
After his meeting with Principal Wayne, where Principal Wayne just went over his schedule again, the code of conduct, and then wished him well, another senior led Leonard to his first hour, History of Abilities (and Everything Else) with Mr. Ford. "I can show you around the rest of the day," Dick Grayson told him. "Or you can try to wing it."
"Thank you," Leonard said, "but I've spent the past couple days exploring. I know my way."
Dick smiled at him. "Good. Your classroom is just down that hall." He nodded to the left and hurried back the way they'd come.
Leonard took a deep breath, straightened to his full height, and walked to the door.
Mr. Ford welcomed him, assigned him a seat, and then continued on with the lecture, thankfully. Leonard hated to be the center of attention. He quickly and quietly pulled out his supplies.
"We're on page 62," the student next to him whispered. Leonard murmured his thanks and flipped to the page.
"Mr. Guster," Mr. Ford said. "Can you tell me the difference between empathy and muscle mimicry?"
"Yes sir," the boy next to Leonard said. Leonard jotted down his answer and didn't say another word for the rest of class.
At the end of the hour, Mr. Ford called Leonard up to his desk. He shuffled a few papers and then offered Leonard a packet. "All of the previous lecture notes are in there," he said. "Burton Guster compiled them for you, mostly from his own. Dick Grayson helped."
"Thank you, sir," Leonard murmured, taking the packet. He placed it carefully in his notebook and waited.
"Oh, go on to your next class, Mr. McCoy," Mr. Ford said after a moment. "And don't worry about tomorrow's essay—I expect yours on Friday, instead. That should give you enough time to catch up."
Leonard nodded and hurried out the room.
Second hour was science with Dr. McKay. Leonard waited by the desk until Dr. McKay looked up; he waved to the class and said, "Sit anywhere, kid."
Leonard chose the back row, next to Dick. "How'd history go?" he asked.
Shrugging, Leonard pulled out his book and notebook. "It was interesting," he said. "I got a copy of all the notes I missed, which is pretty nice."
Dick grinned. "You're welcome, Lennie," he murmured as Dr. McKay said, "Alright, time to begin. Everyone but the new kid, piece of paper and pencil."
Half a dozen kids groaned and Dr. McKay raised a brow. "What was that?"
Dead silence. Leonard ducked his head to hide his smile.
"You have ten minutes to give me twenty reasons why telekinesis is the most useful power," Dr. McKay said. "And I expect all of them to be scientifically sound." As the students started writing, he added, "New kid, start reading chapter one. In ten minutes, I want a sheet of paper from you with a quick summary of the first two pages."
Leonard opened his book and started reading.
Third hour, he had Art with Ms. Prince and he grinned as he walked past the desk. "Leonard," she said, regally inclining her head. "Wally has told me you're doing well."
He ducked his head. "Yes, ma'am."
She smiled. "Take any seat you like."
He chose one of the front tables and dug into his backpack for the sketchbook Principal Wayne had provided. "Hey," a boy said settling onto the stool next to him. "Did you know your hair is pink?"
"No, it's not," he replied, pulling the sketchbook out.
The kid said, "Yes, it is," and held up a mirror. Leonard glanced in it distractedly and then looked back, mouth dropping open.
His hair was pink.
"What the hell?" he demanded, glaring at the kid.
"Charlie," Ms. Prince called. "We've discussed this."
The kid slumped down. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "Fine, your hair is just like it was when you walked in here."
Leonard looked into the mirror again and his hair was normal. He watched out the corner of his eye as the kid grabbed a sketchbook from thin air. "Huh," he muttered.
The kid grinned. "Charlie Bartlett," he said, holding out a hand. "Coolest cat in the world."
Leonard shrugged mentally and shook his hand. "If you say so."
Impossibly, the grin got bigger.
By the end of class, Leonard had drawn three houses and two trees. Charlie had designed a poster about the school play—Phantom of the Opera—and offered advice on how Leonard could spiff his drawings up. Leonard thanked him and then proceeded to ignore him.
"Well done, Leonard," Ms. Prince told him as she walked the room, checking on everybody's work. "Your assignment for the night is to fill them in, with shading or color—whatever you wish."
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
Of all his classes, Leonard dreaded math the most. It wasn't that he was bad at it; it just took more work than anything else ever had. Mr. Sheppard told him to sit anywhere, so he chose the empty desk in the furthest corner from the front and waited for class to start.
He didn't recognize any of the kids, so he just hunched over his desk, book and notebook out, pencil in hand.
Mr. Sheppard did a quick review of Friday's lesson, which Leonard was grateful for, and then got right to it. Leonard didn't say a word the entire hour.
By fifth hour, Literature with Mr. Kent, Leonard was hungry. Ravenous, in fact. It'd been a long time since he actually felt hungry, even when he knew he needed to eat.
Mr. Kent welcomed him with a large smile and made him get up in front of the class to tell a little about himself. He mentioned that he'd lived a lot of places and liked anatomy, and then a brown-haired boy on the front row told a dirty joke. Mr. Kent focused on him and Leonard escaped to the back.
Once the class calmed down, Mr. Kent announced, "Take out a sheet paper; pop quiz time." To Leonard he said, "Don't worry about it. You can turn in a paragraph about 'The Story of an Hour' tomorrow."
Leonard nodded and flipped to the story in his textbook while Mr. Kent called out questions. Once everyone had finished and turned their quiz in, the kid who told the joke led a lively discussion about Mrs. Mallard and the perils of irony. Mr. Kent didn't even seem to be trying to corral him, just offering a word here or there. Leonard chuckled more than once, and actually laughed aloud.
When the bell rang for lunch, he smiled at Mr. Kent as he followed the herd out the door; he turned back when Mr. Kent called, "Wait, Leonard." He stood in the doorway while Mr. Kent pushed off the desk. "You're settling in alright at the school?" Mr. Kent asked. "You're happy?"
Leonard looked at him for a moment and then said, "It's too early to tell."
Mr. Kent nodded, though he looked a little sad. "Go on to lunch. I think today's fishsticks."
Hefting his backpack, Leonard hurried out the door. Since he actually did feel hungry, he decided it would be best to eat.
The cafeteria's noise blasted him as he entered and he took a step back, eying the crowded tables. But now he could actually see the fishsticks and he really was hungry, so he straightened the backpack on his shoulders and strode forward to the line.
Once he had his tray, he glanced around the room, looking for a table. There seemed to be an empty spot in the far-corner with his name on it, so he headed that way.
He didn't even realize he'd walked into a fight until he got punched in the shoulder and fell over, snapping his arm, bone poking through in three places. He crouched on the ground, clutching his arm as it healed—he felt the pain, and it really fucking hurt, but within moments nothing remained of the wound except blood.
One of the combatants knelt beside him. "My apologies," he said, voice solemn, dark eyes showing grief. "Are you injured?"
"Nah, I'm good," Leonard answered, gaze turning to his lunch, scattered around him. He wasn't hungry anymore; he never was after he healed. The boy offered a hand, so he took it, letting the kid pull him up.
"Forgive me," the boy said. "I should have—"
"Ah, lay off it, Spock," another boy interrupted, shoving himself between them. "He's already told you it's fine."
Leonard blinked, seeing the same expression on the first boy's face. That wasn't exactly what he'd said, but it didn't matter.
"You should join us," the new one said. "Since Spock hurt you and all." He thrust a hand forward. "I'm Jim Kirk."
Dazedly, Leonard shook. Jim Kirk grinned and pulled him towards a full table.
A teacher, Coach Pike, if Leonard remembered correctly, stopped them on the way. "See the principal before the end of the day," he told Spock. He looked at Leonard, asking, "You're okay? Not hurt?"
"I'm fine, sir," Leonard said quietly, just wanting attention off him as quickly as possible.
"C'mon, Coach," Jim burst in again. "Let the kid eat."
Coach Pike smiled, shaking his head. "Alright then. Finish your lunches."
Leonard's lunch was spread out over the floor, but it wasn't like he was hungry anymore, anyway. Jim was still tugging on his sleeve, so he slumped down next to him. "Here ya go," Jim said, passing his own tray over. "I'm done anyway."
"I too have finished my meal," Spock said, settling on Jim's other side. "You may have the rest, should you wish it."
"Thanks," Leonard muttered. Just to have something to do, he grabbed a couple of potato chips from Jim's tray.
"Okay, now that's Spock Grayson," Jim told him, nodding to Spock. "He's got superstrength."
"Yeah," Leonard muttered. "I figured that out."
Jim grinned at him. "Well, what you don't know is that he's the reason there's no more power-placement."
Leonard looked again. "Is he a Vulcan?" he asked quietly.
Nodding, Jim said, "Half, on his father's side. We can't pronounce his real last name—well, nobody but Uhura over there and Principal Wayne, anyway. He showed up and got all pissy because categories are illogical, pointless, and detrimental to the development of young powered minds."
Leonard turned his head to stare at Jim and raised a brow. Jim shrugged. "It's kinda legendary around here," he explained.
"You left out the part where he went cryin' home to his mama," another boy said, leaning across Leonard to grab a potato chip from Jim's plate. "And how she stormed up here—literally," he asided to Leonard, "and demanded that Wayne change a system that'd been in place for decades."
"It was a flawed system, Jack," a pretty black girl said. "And because of the fuss, you never got placed." She smirked. "Where would that have been?"
Jack turned back to the kid on his other side. Leonard glanced to Jim for an explanation but he just grinned. Again.
"Bones," he said. "Havin' fun yet?"
Leonard rolled his eyes.
After lunch, Leonard's schedule directed him to Power Training with Professor Devereaux. Jim insisted on showing him the way, even though Leonard actually lived on-campus with Wally and probably already knew his way around better than Jim. Spock tagged along.
"Professor Devereaux," Spock told him, "can mimic voices. She is the instructor for freshmen. You are taking her class because you transferred in, correct?"
"Yeah," Leonard answered. "Until they're sure of my capabilities, I guess."
"So, you're a healer," Jim said, swinging around to walk backward. "Can you do anything else?"
Leonard shrugged. "Not that I've found." He turned to Spock, his curiosity overriding his usual brain-to-mouth filter. "So, you're part Vulcan. How's that affect your power?"
Spock replied, "Before my ability manifested, I was already stronger than the average human of my size and age. My true potential has yet to be tapped, and will probably remain so until proper stimulus is applied."
"What he means is," Jim interjected, "that until a supervillain has pissed him off, there's no way to be sure. He's not as strong as Mr. Kent, but, well—"
Leonard scoffed. "That's a given."
Spock inclined his head. "Beyond my superhuman strength, I am also a touch-telepath. That is not counted as a special ability, though, as it is my Vulcan heritage."
Leonard cocked his head. "How much stronger than a human is a Vulcan, anyway?"
"Generally, a Vulcan male is about three times stronger than a human male. The same holds true for the other gender, as well."
"So, that's been factored into all the tests, right?" Leonard mused.
Jim nodded. "They've gotten him at able to lift over ten-thousand pounds. And he only gets tossed through one room anymore when Mr. Kent punches him at half-strength."
Leonard's mouth dropped open. "You've fought Clark Kent?!" he demanded, rounding on Spock. "Are you out of your Vulcan mind?"
Jim snorted. Spock just stared at him calmly. "How else am I to learn my limits?"
Leonard stared for a moment before shaking his head. "You're crazy, both'a ya."
"Hey now," Jim laughed, "I resemble that remark." He nodded to a classroom. "There's Devereaux," he said. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Leonard answered. Spock inclined his head seriously and strode down the hall, Jim following with one more smile over his shoulder to Leonard.
"Later, Bones," he called, waving.
Leonard gazed after them for a few more seconds before entering the classroom.
Professor Devereaux called roll, all three of them, and then started scribbling in a notebook.
The moment her attention focused elsewhere, a blonde girl marched over to Leonard and asked, "So what's your deepest, darkest, worst secret?"
He stared at her and found himself answering, "I didn't heal my father," even though he hadn't planned on saying anything.
She considered that for a moment while he silently freaked the fuck out and then she said, "Huh. That's boring," and bounced off.
He glared after her, fingers clenched into fists, and a boy slipped into the chair next to his. "Don't mind Parker," he murmured. "She's—well, I can't really describe what she is. But she means well. And she won't tell anyone."
Leonard's glare shifted to the boy. He was short and scrawny, with floppy dark hair and bright green eyes. "I'm Sam," he said. "And you're with us until they're sure of how much control you have and move you."
"They'll move me?" Leonard decided that since he was trying to keep a low profile and just survive Starfleet Academy, he shouldn't make enemies. So he left Parker alone and focused on the kid.
"We're freshmen," Sam said. "See, we've all been here for a few months now, and they've decided how best to group us. The ones in here don't really have active powers, like strength or speed or, you know, elemental capabilities."
"Is that so?" Leonard glanced around again. Besides Parker (who was doing handsprings around the room) and Sam, there was only one other kid, another boy. "Who's he?"
"That's Cory," Sam told him. "He can feel other people's emotions."
"And you?" Leonard asked. "What can you do, kid?"
Sam ducked his head. "Nothing special," he said. "I can see the future, sometimes. Usually when I'm asleep, but I also get these really bad headaches." He licked his lips. "My brother told me he could fix me, if I wanted. You know, take the power away. But I decided to keep it because it makes me special." He glanced up at Leonard. "Like him."
Finally, Professor Devereaux looked up. "Parker," she called. "Sit, please." As Parker did, she said, "Now, I'm sure all of you have prepared a small demonstration of your power as we discussed Friday?" She stood and walked over to Cory. "Show us, Mr. Matthews."
He ducked his head. "I don't—" he muttered.
"Mr. Matthews," she said. "What am I feeling right now?"
Leonard glanced at Sam. "How can you demonstrate your power?" he asked quietly.
Sam shrugged. "Usually, I just talk about something I saw earlier," he replied just as quietly. "Sometimes, I make stuff up."
Cory finally said, "You're feeling hopeful."
"Very good, Mr. Matthews," she said, moving on to Parker. "Now, ask me a safe question."
Parker grinned up at her. "When are you gonna tell Nate about the baby?"
"Tonight after dinner," Professor Devereaux said. "Parker, dear, how d'you know about that?"
"I listen," Parker replied. "A baby!"
Professor Devereaux closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Parker," she said softly.
"Don't worry!" Parker assured her. "Nate doesn't know. I told Eliot and Alec to make sure not to tell him."
"Moving on!" Professor Devereaux announced with a wide smile. "Mr. Winchester, did you see anything this weekend?"
Sam nodded earnestly. "My brother's gonna ride his favorite horse this afternoon," he pronounced solemnly. "And Eliot's gonna go out with someone sometime in the next month, I'm really not sure on the date."
"Well done," she said, patting his shoulder. Turning to Leonard, she said, "On these reports, I expect either a small description of something you did with your ability over the weekend, or you use it here, in class. Whichever you prefer, Mr. McCoy."
He thought for a moment. He could either cut himself or tell her about the incident at lunch, which she probably already knew about anyway. "At lunch," he said, "my arm broke in three places." He held up the completely whole and healthy appendage. "I healed within five seconds."
"Very good," she said, walking back to her desk. "Now, we're going to meditate for the rest of class. I want each of you to focus on how using your ability feels."
Cory and Sam, Leonard noticed as he glanced around, had both closed their eyes. Parker was standing on her head, eyes crossed. Professor Devereaux had settled back in her chair, gaze distant, focused somewhere inwards.
How it felt to use his ability? He'd hardly ever done it intentionally, and it usually hurt. He had tested his ability, not that he'd ever tell anyone. He knew what he could and couldn't heal. He was pretty sure that as long as his heart was connected to his brain, there was nothing that could kill him. And he could heal others, so long as he had physical contact with them. But it wasn't like what he'd heard of Dr. Wilson's ability; Leonard healed others by pulling the hurt into himself. And then his own healing slowed down—what would usually take about half a second, if the wound originated in him, actually took three minutes. And the worse the wound, the longer it took.
He knew that he could probably bring someone back from the brink of death, but it'd kill him. He couldn't think of a single person he'd sacrifice himself for.
His father was a testament to that.
The bell rang, jarring him from his thoughts. "Your homework," Professor Devereaux called, "is to meditate for half an hour and then tomorrow we'll spend the class trying to lie to Parker."
Leonard raised an eyebrow, gathering up his things. Sam chuckled and told him, "It's much harder than it sounds, and she asks really outrageous questions."
"Mr. McCoy," the professor called when he'd gotten to the door. "Principal Wayne would like to see you in his office."
"You could do worse than Jim Kirk," Principal Wayne told him. "He's loud and brash, but loyal and kind."
"I just want to survive and graduate," Leonard responded. "I didn't come here for friends."
Principal Wayne's smile was small, barely a twist of his lips. "It's too late for that, Mr. McCoy. Jim Kirk has adopted you." He glanced down at the notepad on his desk. "Dr. Wilson has requested that you spend an hour a day with him for one-on-one tutoring, starting in your free period tomorrow. You'll be assessed again on Monday and we'll see which Power Training class you should join."
"Yes, sir," Leonard said.
Principal Wayne studied him for a moment. "You're settling in with Wally just fine? Any problems I should know about?"
Leonard thought for a second. "Wally's very… bouncy," he finally settled on. "Nice, but bouncy."
Nodding, Principal Wayne chuckled. "Yes, he is. I decided you would do better with a less-structured guardian for awhile. If that changes, inform me."
Leonard nodded. "Yes, sir," he said again.
Principal Wayne pulled a folder from a stack and flipped through it. "Don't internalize any problem," he said, meeting Leonard's gaze. "That's dangerous here. If other students bother you, tell me or Professor Kent, understand?"
"Yes, sir," Leonard murmured, lying.
"That's all." Principal Wayne shut the file with a sharp glance, letting Leonard know he hadn't been fooled. "I'm sure you have something to do."
Leonard stood and said, "Thank you for your time, sir."
At the door, he paused and turned back. "Sir?" When Principal Wayne lifted his head, Leonard asked, "You know what I did. Why—how can you trust me?"
Principal Wayne steepled his fingers and looked at him. "Everyone regrets some part of their past. Unless they are given a chance, those regrets may swallow them whole."
Leonard left without another word.
There was one hour left of the school day, but Principal Wayne had scheduled him a study hall. Tomorrow it'd be tutoring with Dr. Wilson, but today he could do whatever he wanted.
Leonard left the main building and walked to the stable, tired of people for the day.
Two boys were present when he got there, one mucking stalls and the other feeding the horses. Leonard threw himself into helping without a single sound.
"Long day?" the shorter boy asked, dodging a rakeful of dung.
"No," Leonard chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "Long year."
The three of them worked in silence until the last stall was clean and the last horse fed.
"Eliot Spencer," the shorter one said, holding out a hand. "That's Dean Winchester," he added, jerking his head toward the other.
"Leonard McCoy," Leonard said, shaking his hand. He wondered if this was the Eliot that Sam'd mentioned.
Eliot chuckled, letting go. "Moon likes you," he explained, gesturing to the closest horse, a dun mare. "Said you're cute for a human."
Leonard dropped a quick bow to the mare. "Thank you kindly, Lady Moon."
Dean finally spoke up, clearly shaking something off. "Sorry, dude. I'm not usually so spaced."
"No problem." He glanced around: the stable was large for just two workers. "Are ya'll the only ones who work here?"
Dean shook his head. "Professor Kent brings each of his PE classes here once a week." He clapped Eliot on the back. "Didn't you say something about Charlie needing exercise?"
Eliot rolled his eyes. "You're like a little kid, you know," he said. "Sure, go ahead. He's been itchin' for a run."
Dean whooped and hurried down the row, to the last stall on the left. Leonard raised a brow at Eliot.
"He has a crush on our lone stallion," Eliot explained. "The feeling's mutual."
"A stallion?" Leonard asked. "Is that smart at a school?"
Eliot grinned. "My talent," he said, gesturing for Leonard to follow him. "I can speak to anything with a heartbeat. Most of 'em like me. Charlemagne has promised to behave. He gets three chances. So far, he's done just fine."
When they got outside, Dean was already on and waiting, bareback but with a bridle.
"Helmet!" Eliot called to him. "I don't care if you learned invulnerability from Nero—you could still crack your head wide open."
"Hey now," Dean yelled back. "I also learned flyin' from Sheppard." He clucked but the horse—a black giant—didn't move.
"Fine," Dean grumbled. He lifted a hand and made a come here gesture with his fingers. Leonard startled as a helmet floated past his head.
"Wanna go for a ride?" Eliot asked Leonard as Dean strapped on the helmet.
"Sure." He hadn't been on a horse since before—well. Awhile.
Eliot considered a moment. "Hurry up!" Dean called from outside. "Charlie wants to go, and so do I!"
"Okay." Eliot tuned back into the barn and opened two near stalls. "How familiar are you with horses?" he asked. "We can tack up if you want."
Leonard shrugged. "I grew up around 'em."
"You take Callisan, then," Eliot said, nodding to the gray mare. "Her bridle's hanging off the door. I'll be on Norm."
Both horses ambled out of their stalls. Norm was a big bay gelding and Eliot jumped off the ground, swinging himself up, bareback and bridleless.
"Wait," Leonard said, setting the bridle on Callisan, knowing Dean would give Eliot hell. "Helmets?"
"Oh, good point." Eliot pointed. "That room."
Leonard grabbed two and tossed one to Eliot. He put his helmet on and pulled himself onto Callisan while she stood there stoically. She followed Norm out of the stable and Leonard reacquainted himself with the movement of a horse.
"Took you long enough," Dean complained, grinning. Charlemagne pranced beneath him. "Wanna race?"
Leonard looked past them to the grounds, stretching for miles. "Wow," he murmured.
"Go on," Eliot told Dean. "Stay in sight, though."
"Mother hen," Dean chuckled fondly.
Leonard didn't see the signal but Charlemagne took off, Dean's laughter flowing behind them.
Norm and Callisan trotted after, Leonard trying to balance. At least if he fell off, it'd just hurt for a second.
"How you likin' the Academy?" Eliot asked, circling Norm around Callisan.
Leonard shrugged. "'s'alright."
"You live on campus, too, right?" Norm sprang a little ahead but then slowed for Callisan.
"Yeah, with Wally West," Leonard answered. "He's one of the science teachers."
"I remember him," Eliot said. "He taught me freshman year. Seemed like more of a kid than most of the students in my class."
"You live on campus?" Leonard asked Callisan to speed up and she quickened her trot.
"Yup, with Nate and Sophie—uh, Professors Ford and Devereaux. Me and two others foster with 'em."
"Who?" He almost over-balanced, so he gripped Callisan's mane.
"Two freshmen," Eliot called as Norm lengthened his stride to a canter. Parker and Alec, Leonard guessed, but then Callisan followed, of course, and all talking ceased.
They caught up with Dean and Charlemagne on the far side of the field. Eliot said, "Let's give 'em a break," so all three dismounted. The horses started to graze while Dean and Eliot settled at the base of a tree, helmets discarded next to them. Leonard glanced around before joining.
"So," Eliot said. "What's your power?"
Dean scoffed, "You haven't heard yet? He's the one who got between Spock and Nero at lunch."
"Oh," Eliot breathed in fake wonder. "You're that kid."
Leonard rolled his eyes. "I can heal," he grumbled. "Dean, what about you? I thought only Kent had multiple abilities."
Dean ducked his head, fingers plucking at blades of grass. "It doesn't have a name," he said quietly, almost ashamedly. "But I can watch other people's abilities and then do them." His laughter was sarcastic. "Like magic."
Leonard suddenly made the connection. "You're Sam's brother."
Charlemagne threw up his head, bugling. Eliot called, "Hush, boy! We'll handle it." To Dean and Leonard, he said, "We have company."
As they got to their feet, a shadow covered them, which quickly resolved itself to Jim Kirk with huge leathery wings.
"Well, if it isn't Batman!" Dean said.
Jim chuckled. "Clever, Winchester. Never heard that one before."
Norm snorted while Callisan walked over, nosing at Jim's wings. He practically giggled, flapping them a bit before they folded away, vanishing into his back.
"Bones," he announced, gently rubbing at Callisan's nose. "Spock and me were wonderin' if you wanted to go eat with us tonight."
"Actually," Leonard replied, "Me and Wally have plans."
"Oh," Jim said. Instantly a bright smile filled his face. "Okay then. Well, have a good time." He glanced from Dean to Eliot and back to Leonard. "I should head on back." He turned, the wings reappearing and stretching out wide.
"Wait, Jim," Leonard called, hurrying to his side. "Tomorrow. You wanna get some dinner tomorrow?"
This time, Jim's grin was real. "Yeah," he said. "Me and Spock are free tomorrow night."
He jumped, powerful wings pumping; Leonard nearly lost his footing, the wind was so strong. He watched Jim go for a moment before turning to catch the tail-end of a shared smile between Eliot and Dean.
"What?" he asked. "Shut up."
"We should head back, too," Eliot told them. He gestured to the horses, who all strode to their respective riders while said riders picked up their helmets before mounting.
"Wanna race?" Dean asked as Charlemagne pranced to the side.
"I'm not that good yet," Leonard said. "If the two'a you do, though, feel free."
Norm leapt forward and Dean yelled, "Hey! Cheater." Charlemagne took off after them and Leonard laughed.
Maybe this second life would be better. Maybe he could be happy here, and make up for… maybe.
When Leonard got to Wally's apartment, he quickly did his homework and got his backpack ready for the next day. The meditation was easier without other people around, though he kept thinking about Jim and wondering why the boy would want him around. He checked his email, which so far only Principal Wayne had—Leonard was to report to Dr. Wilson during his study hall every day for the rest of the week. Leonard emailed back a thank you for the reminder and then straightened up the kitchen. Someone had gone shopping—he suspected Principal Wayne or Mr. Kent, since Wally hardly ever remembered things like that. He made a mental note to request an allowance so that he could start weekly grocery runs. He needed to pull his weight so they wouldn't rethink their decision about him.
The door banged open and Wally whirl-winded in, saying, "Hey, kiddo! How was your first day at school?"
Leonard smiled. "It was… better than expected," he said honestly. "I'm making spaghetti. Is that alright?"
"Yeah! You need some help?" Wally walked over a normal speed and surveyed the preparations. "Want me to chop the vegetables and open the cans?"
"If you want, but you don't have to," Leonard told him.
Wally smiled. "You're a good kid," he said. From anyone else, it might have sounded patronizing, but Wally was like Mr. Kent: just too nice for things like that.
He did the vegetables and cans at a normal speed while Leonard browned the meat. Wally kept up a monologue about his day, barely letting Leonard talk, but he didn't mind. As they sat down, though, he said, "Now, Leo, tell me about your day. I heard you got in a fight?"
Leonard ducked his head. "I walked into it." He shrugged. "I healed immediately, so it doesn't matter."
Wally looked at him, unusually serious. "It always matters, Leo. What if it hadn't been you? There's dozens of kids here who don't heal, who aren't superstrong or superfast, who couldn't avoid a blow like that."
"But isn't that what Dr. Wilson is for?" Leonard asked. "He's a healer."
Wally shook his head. "Jimmy's good at superficial wounds. The way Chris said your arm was broken…" He shuddered. "No, Jimmy couldn't have fixed that." After a moment, he added, "Bruce is gonna have a serious discussion with Nero. He's out of control."
Leonard focused on his meal and they were quiet for a few minutes. Finally, Wally asked, "Did you make any friends?"
That reminded Leonard that Wally actually was his guardian, so he said, "Jim Kirk invited me out with him and Spock Grayson. Do you mind if I go?"
"Not at all," Wally answered. "When?"
"Tomorrow." Leonard looked up in time to see Wally's grin. "I don't know what they want to do beyond dinner, but…"
Wally nodded. "You have to be back for ten, though. Bruce's rule."
"Alright," Leonard said. "Um, I also met Eliot Spencer and Dean Winchester at the stable. I helped with the horses and then we went riding."
"So you have made friends!" Wally sounded delighted. "That's awesome, Leo."
Wally ate most of the spaghetti, but Leonard put some away for himself, hidden in the back of the fridge where Wally never went. Wally said, "I have papers to grade, so do whatever you want."
Leonard wanted a shower and sleep, so that's what he did.
He dreamed of Jim Kirk soaring across the sky with golden-brown feathered wings, then falling, blood pouring from him, and no matter how Leonard tried, he couldn't reach Jim before he bled out onto the dirt.