Jim knew before Bones got to him. Even if it took him a little while to articulate it to himself, the evidence had become incontrovertible.
It helped, of course, that he had met doubles before. Androids. Transporter accidents. But he'd never been hailed by a distress call from himself. There was that, and the tattoos--none of which he had--and other incongruities. But there was no point denying this was Jim Kirk. He scrubbed a hand over his face, turning from the window to the doctor.
"And it didn't even work, did it?" he returned, taking the PADD. He was familiar enough with his own record to know what it all spelled out. "So he's not a robot. Or an evil twin?" He raised an eyebrow, and McCoy glared back at him.
"Maybe you're the evil twin," he ground out without any heat. It wasn't as if Jim did this to him on purpose.
Probably.
"No, I'm pretty sure I'd know," Jim said with forced cheer, because really, what else could you do? "How soon before he wakes up?"
"Not long. He's mostly dehydrated and malnourished, but nothing we can't take care of. He'll be good as new in a few days. But he's been through a lot, and I don't need you coming at him right out of the gate."
Jim raised another eyebrow. "Bones. You know me. Which means you know that I know he'll want to talk to me just as much as I want to talk to him."
The thing was, Jim was right, and McCoy had to relent, so once they'd done everything they could with hypos and hydration and a new set of clothes, Jim waited by the other man's bed for him to wake up.
no subject
It helped, of course, that he had met doubles before. Androids. Transporter accidents. But he'd never been hailed by a distress call from himself. There was that, and the tattoos--none of which he had--and other incongruities. But there was no point denying this was Jim Kirk. He scrubbed a hand over his face, turning from the window to the doctor.
"And it didn't even work, did it?" he returned, taking the PADD. He was familiar enough with his own record to know what it all spelled out. "So he's not a robot. Or an evil twin?" He raised an eyebrow, and McCoy glared back at him.
"Maybe you're the evil twin," he ground out without any heat. It wasn't as if Jim did this to him on purpose.
Probably.
"No, I'm pretty sure I'd know," Jim said with forced cheer, because really, what else could you do? "How soon before he wakes up?"
"Not long. He's mostly dehydrated and malnourished, but nothing we can't take care of. He'll be good as new in a few days. But he's been through a lot, and I don't need you coming at him right out of the gate."
Jim raised another eyebrow. "Bones. You know me. Which means you know that I know he'll want to talk to me just as much as I want to talk to him."
The thing was, Jim was right, and McCoy had to relent, so once they'd done everything they could with hypos and hydration and a new set of clothes, Jim waited by the other man's bed for him to wake up.