I do not own Star Trek or its characters. This work of fiction is not for profit.

Jim wished that the moment his cabin doors whooshed shut behind him, he could stop being Captain James T. Kirk, hero of earth. But that couldn't happen until he went through the correspondence on his desk.

He sat down, rubbing his temples. Being back on the Enterprise was a small relief from the media circus that San Francisco had become. There were endless press conferences, meetings with Starfleet higher-ups, and funerals.

At the beginning of it all, he had felt everything too keenly – the elation and responsibility of being a "hero," the guilt and pain of each death, the tentative beginnings of friendship with his new crew. Weeks later, he had tuned it all out. He had to, in order to function. He had a ship to run, even as she remained in orbit around Earth while final repairs and tune-ups were made.

Jim had been able to contact his family briefly, but the media made it impossible for visits of any meaningful length. Everything he had ever touched, every place he had ever been was now a tourist attraction.

He needed someone to talk to. But as captain, he couldn't want to appear weak. He didn't dare visit the ship's counselor. And his best friend – well, Jim was still hurt by what had happened during the entire incident with the Narada.

"Pike made him first officer."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Thanks for the support."

It still stung, even now. Bones was responsible for getting him on the ship, but what had he honestly expected him to do once he got there? Twiddle his thumbs in Sickbay?

He hadn't seen much of his best friend in the ensuing chaos. He had kept an eye on reports detailing the repairs going on in Sickbay. He occasionally went by when Bones was off shift. They had shared a few meals together in the mess, but they hadn't said much.

Jim clicked send on the last of his reports and held his head in his hands. His life was accelerating around him at warp speed, but he felt like he was stuck in neutral. He could act and go through the motions, but he felt none of it.

He needed to feel something.

Decision made, he pushed away from his desk and walked towards the bedroom, shedding his uniform as he went. He knelt in front of the bureau and opened the bottom drawer, taking out a battered medical kit. He carried it into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. Jim reached for a clean towel and spread it on the floor in front of him.

He opened the kit and removed several tools, setting them down on the towel. His body trembled slightly in anticipation and relief; the routine was familiar. First, he picked up the sterilizer, waving it first over the scalpels of various sizes and then the underside of his left forearm.

He picked up one of the scalpels, took a deep breath, and held it. He positioned the scalpel carefully with a steady hand against his skin. He continued controlling his breathing as he pressed down and made a small incision, causing blood to well up.

Jim gave small gasp at the tiny sparks of pain, tingling against his skin. He released the pressure on the blade and tried to savor the feeling even as it ebbed and slipped away, like water through his fingers.

He took two deep breaths before slicing carefully into the skin again, crying out softly, both in pleasure and pain. All he wanted was to feel. His universe narrowed to this one room, this one moment, where no one expected anything of him.

He leaned back against the tub a few minutes later. His arm was a mess of cuts, oozing blood. Jim savored the endorphin rush that came with the pain; it was the only thing in his life that gave him any kind of lift. Everything else revolved around being solemn, dutiful, controlled. Maybe once the Enterprise was on her first mission, he wouldn't feel so … confined. But for now, this was his one escape.

As the pain in his arm faded to a dull ache, he picked up the dermal regenerator. His world was fading back to neutral gray, his feelings going with it. He told himself that it was just a temporary solution. He wouldn't always be like this.

He had to believe that things would get better.

Jim knew that Bones was watching him. Hell, everyone was watching him, waiting to see what the new, young captain was going to do. He could feel the weight of it, almost like they were waiting for him to screw up.

And he was starting to think he would eventually.

Still, the scrutiny was no match for Bones. Jim tried to avoid him a bit more, but of course, that didn't go unnoticed either. He was honestly surprised he hadn't been hypoed from behind and dragged to Sickbay for an exam.

But Bones was asking lots of questions and harping on him for not eating enough. Finally, during dinner one night, Jim couldn't take it anymore.

"Bones, what do you want? You won't stop hounding me!"

Bones's expression remained annoyingly calm. "I want you to tell me what's wrong. You're not sleeping or eating properly, and you're withdrawn. What's going on?"

Jim sighed, picking at his food. "Nothing. It's just a lot of changes and a lot of pressure."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Jim shrugged. "Nothin' to talk about. It's just a lot to get used to. I can handle it."

It was quiet for a moment before Bones spoke again, "Jim, I need to tell you something. I want to tell you that I'm sorry for not backing you up. I just didn't want to see you throw your whole career away, but I should have known better than to doubt you. You're gonna make a damn fine Captain, Jim. And I'll always have your back."

Jim swallowed thickly. Was he that transparent? How did Bones know exactly what he needed to hear? He forced a grin. "Thanks, Bones. But I don't need a crew of 'yes men.' I need a crew who will question me and keep me on my toes."

Bones chuckled. "I suppose you're right, though I imagine you're going to get plenty of that from Spock." His face grew serious again. "I won't ever let it go that far again, though."

Jim shoved a couple more forkfuls of casserole in his mouth before standing and clapping Bones on the shoulder. "Thanks, Bones. I appreciate it."

Jim knew he should feel better. He should feel relieved that no matter what happened, Bones had faith in him. But he still couldn't feel anything except anxiety. So, he knelt on his bathroom floor and cut his skin until he could feel again.

As he held the regenerator over his arm to fix the damage, his comm beeped, causing him to jump. The regenerator fell from his grasp, hitting the floor and sending a piece skittering off.

"Shit!" Jim cried, grabbing both pieces of the device. He wrapped gauze around his bleeding arm and tried to put the regenerator back together. He paused and answered his comm. "Kirk here."

"Captain, Admiral Pike would like to speak with you –"

"Tell him I'll contact him first thing in the morning."

"But sir –"

"Kirk out." He knew that would probably come back to bite him in the ass later, but he had more pressing things to attend to. His hands were shaking from the rush and onset of panic. If he couldn't get the regenerator to work, he would have to go to Sickbay. At least Bones wouldn't be on duty.

In fact, he could probably sneak in and borrow a regenerator, and no one would be the wiser. The wounds he hadn't healed close to his wrist and would probably be noticed, certainly by Bones and possibly Spock. Jim pressed his fingers against the wound, relishing the delicious sparks of pain. He rewrapped his arm, pulled his uniform back on and headed to Sickbay.

Dr. Perry was on duty when he arrived. He waved hello and announced he was going to take a look at the repairs and renovations. Dr. Perry nodded with a smile and went back to whatever she was looking at under the scope.

Jim carefully made his way over to the drawers of supplies. Having studied the schematics, he knew exactly where to find what he wanted. He looked over to make sure Dr. Perry was occupied and then quietly slid the drawer open and removed one of the dermal regenerators. He clutched it for a moment before putting it in his pocket and closing the drawer. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back against the supply drawers.

"Captain, are you all right?"

Jim jumped. Dr. Perry was standing near him. "Yes, sorry, Doctor. I'm fine."

"You seem a bit agitated," Dr. Perry observed. "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

Jim resisted the urge to press his fingernails in the wounds on his wrist. He pressed it back hard against the drawers instead. "Well, truthfully, I have had some trouble sleeping. Nothing major. Could you give me something for that?"

Dr. Perry bobbed her head. "Of course."

She disappeared into the adjoining room, and Jim quietly let out the breath he'd been holding. Keep it together, he told himself. Just a little longer. He jammed his left hand into his pocket, curling his fingers around the regenerator.

Dr. Perry came back a moment later, with a small bottle of pills. "Here. These should help with the insomnia. Please come back if you experience any other symptoms."

"Thanks, Doc," Jim responded with a wide grin. He turned and left Sickbay, forcing himself not to run.

Jim grunted in frustration. Despite the blood running from the outside of his shoulder down his arm, he still could not feel. He barely felt any pain.

It had been a difficult day. He had endured an awkward video call with his mother. She was proud of him but very worried about him suffering a similar fate as his father.

And then Pike was asking him a million questions about the repairs. He knew the admiral was trying to help make sure he was prepared for his new job, but he felt as if every decision he made was being question at every fucking turn.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, cutting into the skin again. He couldn't feel it. "Fuck."

Suddenly, the computer announced, "Medical override accepted."

Jim heard the doors to his room swoosh open. Bones. He panicked and frantically started to wipe up the blood.

"Jim?"

"Bones, what the hell is going on?" he shouted through the bathroom door as he ran the regenerator over his arm.

"We need to talk."

"Really? You broke into my room just to talk?"

"This is serious, Jim."

"You know, you've got no right to do this."

"Jim, please. Just come out, and we'll talk."

"Okay. Just give me a minute!"

Jim packed away his tools as quietly as possible, making a mental note to sterilize them later. He shoved the box under the sink, threw the bloodied towel into the refresher, and pulled his shirt back on. He took a deep breath and then left the bathroom.

Bones was sitting on the couch; his medical kit was beside him.

"What's up, Bones? Someone hurt?"

Bones's expression gave away nothing. "Yeah. Apparently, you are. Or were."

"What are you talking about?"

"A dermal regenerator is missing from Sickbay. When I went to look for it, I found blood on the drawer it was in. I had it analyzed. It's yours."

Jim felt the color draining from his face as cold panic gripped his heart. He shrugged. "Yeah, I borrowed it. I had a cut, and I prefer to take care of these things myself. Want it back?"

Bones stood, his expression furious. "You're lying to me. If it was something that needed a dermal regenerator, then it wasn't small. And if it's not small, there's no good reason you wouldn't have come for help. Or at least told me about it. Did someone hurt you?"

"Bones, drop it."

"Who hurt you, Jim?" His fists were curled in anger.

"No one, Bones. It's not what you think, and it's none of your business. Leave it alone. I'll give you the damn regenerator back, okay?"

Bones took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself. "I can help you, Jim, if you let me. Tell me who did this."

Jim shook his head. "I don't need any help. I'm fine. I need you to leave. Now."

Bones's eyes narrowed, focusing on Jim's wrist.

Jim looked and realized that a small trickle of blood was visible.

Bones stepped forward, grabbing Jim's wrist and pushing back the sleeve.

Jim rebelled, trying to pull away. "DON'T!"

McCoy stared at the newly healed skin. The scars hadn't completely faded yet, standing out in pale white crisscrossing lines. "Jesus, Jim …" He pushed the sleeve further up, tracing the scars all the way up his arm.

Jim felt his face burning. "Bones –"

"Jim, I'm going to give you one chance to answer me before I drag you forcibly down to Sickbay and have you declared medically unfit. Who. Hurt. You?"

"No one –"

"Last chance, Jim."

Jim sagged back against the wall in defeat. "Look at the angle of the cuts, Bones."

He watched as McCoy studied his arm with a clinical eye. After a moment, his head snapped up. "Jim … you did this to yourself?"

Jim bit his lip and looked away. "Yeah. And it's none of your business. I'm always careful. My regenerator broke, so I borrowed one from Sickbay. You can have it back. I won't do it again."

"Why did you do this?"

"I said I'll stop, okay? Just leave it alone."

"I'm your friend. I'm not going to just leave it alone. You need to talk to me. My threat to drag you Sickbay stands."

Jim growled, pulling his wrist from McCoy's grasp. "Fuck you. You don't know what this is like. I needed a way to cope. That's all. Lots of people do it, and half of them aren't as careful as I am. I know what I'm doing. This is none of your business."

McCoy's face hardened. "I'm going to up your amount of choices to three, Jim. One, you come with me to Sickbay, and this all goes on record. Two, you go see the ship's counselor and tell her everything. Or three, you talk to me. Right now. What's it gonna be?"

Jim glared at him. "You've got no right to do this."

"I'm being generous, Captain. Any CMO in his right mind would have hauled you off already. But you're my friend, and I don't want to see you lose what you've earned. I'm giving you a chance to handle this off the record. But that means that you have to talk to me."

Jim crossed his arms. Bones had him cornered. He had no choice.

"Take off your shirt."

Jim physically jumped. "What?"

"Let me see the damage. I don't doubt that you've tried to be careful. But you're not a doctor. I'm your friend. Just let me make sure there's no permanent damage."

"Fine." Jim jerked his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor.

McCoy opened his medical kit and pulled out his tricorder, running it over Jim's arm from all angles. "Good God … Jim, how long have you been doing this?"

Jim shrugged his other shoulder. "On and off since senior year started."

"Well, it's obviously been 'on' a lot lately."

"I told you; I was trying to cope with the stress."

McCoy went into his kit again, pulling out a regenerator and running it over the cut Jim had missed. "Most people go to the gym when they're stressed. Meditate. Argue with a friend. Have sex. Why this, Jim?"

Jim shivered. "So I could feel."

McCoy finished his treatment and stepped back. "Jim, what do you mean?"

"I mean, I can't feel anything. Happy, sad, angry, hungry, nothing. None of it. I did this when I wanted to feel something. I needed the rush just to feel. Everything else is just … numb." He gestured to the healing cuts. "Even this is numb. I couldn't feel it today."

"Jim, why didn't you tell me about this? I would –"

And suddenly, Jim could feel. White, hot rage filled him. He shoved McCoy backwards. "You would have WHAT? You didn't even stand behind me when I was trying to save the ship! Why would I have trusted you with this?"

McCoy held up his hands. "I said I was sorry, Jim. It was mistake. God, if I'd known you were keeping something like this –"

"DON'T!" Jim shoved him again. "Don't even talk about it!"

Bones nearly fell over the couch but regained his balance, stepping to the side of the couch. His eyes narrowed slightly. "I see what you're doing, Jim. It won't work."

"Oh, you're a shrink now, too?" He side stepped, so he was facing McCoy.

"You're trying to start a fight, so I'll hurt you. I won't."

"You said you wanted to help me."

"Not like this."

"Then get the fuck out of my room!" Jim rushed forward, swinging out. McCoy ducked, grabbing Jim's newly healed arm and twisting it behind his back.

Jim savored the previous sparks of pain, sweeping his leg at McCoy's feet.

They both went down, but McCoy kept his grip on Jim's arm. Jim tried to twist out of his grasp as he heard the sound of rummaging in the medical kit.

"NO!" Jim yelled, wrenching his arm free. He tried to get back to his feet, but McCoy got his arms around Jim's waist, holding him down. A second later, he felt the sting of a hypospray in his side. "Goddamn it!" His limbs grew heavy; he couldn't push McCoy off him.

"Easy, there, Jim. Don't fight it."

"Screw … you," Jim groaned before darkness overcame him.

Jim came to slowly and found that McCoy had been busy while he was out. He couldn't help the anger that flashed up as he fought against the restrains. "LET ME GO!"

"You're awake," McCoy said calmly, watching him from against the wall.

"Computer, security alert! Captain's quarters!" Jim yelled.

There was no response. Bones smiled. "I disabled vocal commands. You taught me that trick back at the Academy."

Jim pulled experimentally at the medical cuffs holding his wrists and ankles anchored to the bed. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"I'm trying to help you, Jim."

Jim laughed a trifle hysterically. "Really? Never woulda guessed."

"I understand why you didn't come to me before now. But please, listen to me. I can help you."

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" Jim yelled, thrashing against the restraints.

McCoy just watched him calmly. "Current evidence seems to indicate otherwise."

"I order you to let me go," Jim said, locking eyes with his CMO.

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "You're hardly in a position to be giving orders, Captain. If you were actually in command right now, I'd have to relieve you of it. And I know you don't want that on your record, especially right now. So, instead, I suggest you shut up and listen to me."

Jim temporarily gave up fighting the restraints. "Fine. What do you want?"

"I want you to answer some questions. First, can you feel now? Mad at me? A little scared, maybe?"

Jim growled. "Yes. I'm angry. Yes, I can feel. And trust me, when you let me go, you're gonna feel it, too."

Bones laughed. "We'll see about that, Jim. Now, you were hurting yourself for the adrenaline rush, because you're numb. Right?"

Jim felt heat rush to his cheeks. "Yes."

"I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, kid. And don't think I haven't noticed –"

"Fuck, I know you have, Bones. You watch everything I do. Join the fucking club. My life is one gigantic fish bowl."

Bones was quiet for a minute, and Jim hated the faint sympathy he could see in his eyes. "It'll be easier when we're out in the black. But even so, you need to learn to manage your stress without cutting on yourself."

"No, I don't. I've been doing just fine without help."

"Oh really? Thought you said it wasn't even working today?"

Jim bit his lip. He wished he hadn't let that slip earlier.

"That's because you're not really get what you need, Jim."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, tell me, Dr. Freud. What is it that I need?"

And then Bones approached him slowly and sat on the bed beside him. "Your whole life is about control. You have to control this ship and everyone on it. You have to control yourself, and you're controlled by Starfleet brass. You're trying to relieve the stress by controlling your body, controlling how you feel. Don't you see, Jim? It's the exact opposite of what you need. You need to let that control go; then you'll be able to feel and relieve the stress, the anger, whatever you need, kid. Only problem is, you can't do that alone."

Jim felt his heart beat simultaneously slow and beat harder in his chest.

Bones continued. "If you're going to lose control safely, you need someone to help you. Someone you trust."

Jim wanted to laugh in his face but couldn't quite manage it. "And you think I'm going to trust you like that?"

Bones smiled slightly and shook his head. "I already took the choice from you, Jim, took away your control. This time, I had to, before you did something stupid."

Jim glared at him. "Are you implying there will be a next time?"

"No." Bones straddled his hips, pinning him more effectively to the bed. "I'm guaranteeing there will be."

Jim bucked under him. "Get the fuck OFF ME!"

"No, Jim. I'm not letting you go. The other thing that's going to happen before I let you go is that you promise never to cut yourself again. And you give me all your knives." He ran his hand lightly over Jim's scarred arm.

Jim shivered involuntarily and renewed his futile struggles to get free.

Bones folded himself over, tucking his head into Jim's neck and letting his other hand cradle the back of Jim's head. "It's okay, kid. You fight as much as you want. You're not goin' anywhere."

Jim turned his head and screamed, fighting viciously. Everything poured out of him: his rage, his grief, his fear at failing at everything he had fought so hard for.

And Bones … Bones didn't try to stop him. He just held him, murmuring encouragement into his ear and stroking strong fingers along the nape of his neck.

"That's it, kid. Let it out. That's it. Fight. It's okay. I've got you. Don't hold back now."

Jim felt like his body was on fire; he was exploding like a star – burning, burning …

"That's it, darlin'. That's it."

And somehow, he didn't drift away, didn't burn into nothing, burn out before his time.

He closed his eyes and felt fingers on his cheeks, wiping away the wetness. "Shhh, darlin'. It's okay. I've got you."

"You didn't care!" Jim shouted, sobs fighting their way out of him. "You let him maroon me, Bones! You didn't –"

"I know, Jim. I'm sorry. I won't let that happen ever again if I can stop it. I didcare, Jim. I tore him a new one first chance I got. But it's okay if you're still mad. I understand."

"STOP IT! Stop whatever the fuck you're doing!"

"You don't want me to. As much as this hurts, you're actually feeling it. And that's better than being numb, isn't it?"

Jim kept his eyes squeezed shut, still leaking tears. "You didn't care –"

"Believe me, Jim. I did. I do. You know why I was so mad when I found out you were hurt today? Because the thought of someone else layin' a hand on you makes me so angry I can't see."

Jim blinked his eyes open, took in the sincerity in Bones's gaze. He watched, transfixed, as the anger melted into concern and … something else. Something like affection.

Bones swiped a thumb under his eye, gently wiping away the tears. "Feels better, doesn't it? Not being in control for once?"

Jim took in a few deep gulps of air. "M-Maybe." He felt a flush of heat in his cheeks as his dick twitched.

The corner of Bones's mouth titled up very slightly. "Hm. I think you might even likeit. Don't worry. That's pretty common. Now, will you promise me that you'll never cut yourself again? If you feel like you need to, I want to comm me. I'll help you, okay?"

Jim felt himself nodding slowly. He did feel better, like he had climbed up a mountain and actually reached the top, accomplished something.

"You gonna give me all your knives and regenerator?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Bones … if I wanted … another kind of release …"

Bones quirked an eyebrow. "A sexual release?"

"Yeah."

Bones leaned down and kissed a lazy trail along Jim's jaw line. "Reckon I could do that, Jim. In fact, I've been hopin' I would get the opportunity with you."

Jim closed his eyes as his cock again made its interest known.

"But not tonight, darlin'. You've had enough."

Jim actually whined as Bones got off of him and unbuckled the restraints.

"You've rubbed the skin raw. I need to treat those. Here," he added when he saw Jim's eyes go wide. "Don't worry; I won't drag you to Sickbay for this."

Jim sat up and flexed his limbs as McCoy grabbed his medical kit and sat beside him. "Bones?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

Jim smiled, and it actually felt like a real one for the first time in weeks. "Thanks."

Bones pressed a quick kiss to his temple. "It's not an overnight fix, Jim. It's gonna take time. But we'll work on it together, okay?"

Jim nodded, leaning sleepily against Bones's side; he was exhausted. "Yeah. That sounds good."

The End