Battle Scars.

Leonard Horatio McCoy was the greatest man Jim Kirk had ever met.

It was fact, pure and simple. Jim knew this to be true because out of all the people he had met in his life, Leonard McCoy was the only one to not want something from him. The only one to help others solely because he could. Because he wanted to make their lives better. Jim considered it a privilege he didn't deserve to call himself a friend of McCoy's. He hadn't exactly been at his best when they had met but Leonard had looked past that, past the bullshit, saw Jim and accepted him as he was, flaws and all. And there were plenty of flaws.

Jim Kirk was a man made up of flaws. He was brash, arrogant, quick tempered, greedy…nothing like McCoy, who apart from his infamous temper was the complete opposite of Jim in every way. Jim was self aware enough to know that he would've turned out differently if certain things hadn't come to pass; his father's death, Frank, Tarsus, losing his brother…if those things hadn't happened maybe he would've still ended up in Starfleet, with his family only a comm call away, they'd have been there for graduation. Maybe his flaws wouldn't have turned from cracks to crevasses and he would deserve a friend like McCoy. Maybe.

But those things did happen, each one had left a wound that destroyed different parts of Jim, moulding him into who he was – the flawed individual who carried the weight of the universe on his shoulders because he had seen what happens when no one steps up. There was no way in hell he would ever let anything like Tarsus happen again, not if he could stop it – no one should have to see that.

He wore his arrogance like a mask but he also studied his ass off so he could back it up if and when the time came that he'd need to act. His temper was easy to explain – he was fighting the bullies of his past by beating the shit out of the bullies of the present. The greed…that was relatively new; he had always enjoyed learning new things but after arriving at the Academy his thirst for knowledge had increased exponentially, he wanted and needed to learn as much as he could because he didn't know when he'd need it but he knew he would someday.

If McCoy knew half of the thoughts that raced through Jim's mind at any one time, he'd probably run for the hills. But Jim was greedy in that respect too – his mind quietened around McCoy. The man projected such a capable aura, something in Jim recognised that he didn't need to constantly be on red alert around him. He could relax for awhile. He could rest.

He may not deserve the friendship but he would cling to it for as long as McCoy offered it.

And when one night, about six months before the end of their first five year mission, McCoy came to his quarters and offered more than friendship, Jim froze. They were sat side by side on his small sofa, their heads resting against the back but turned towards each other, McCoy's hand on Jim's knee. It could be interpreted as a friendly gesture but not when combined with the soft look in his eyes.

"Bones?" He asked, hoarsely.

Hazel eyes rose up to meet his own blues ones as McCoy's tongue flicked out to wet his lips, "Yeah, Jim?"

Jim's own eyes shot down to follow the movement and felt a flush rise up his neck into his face, he swallowed. Why hadn't he noticed how close McCoy was? They were practically in each other's lap. His hand was warm on Jim's knee through the soft material of his trousers. Uncertainty rose in Jim's chest – was he reading this right? Was McCoy serious? How pissed would he be if Jim was reading this wrong? Would it ruin their friendship? He couldn't lose-

"Jim? Breathe for me, okay?" Bones said, suddenly sat up and facing Jim fully. When did he move? Jim didn't know. "Breathe with me, 1…2…3…there we go, you're doing great, Jim. Keep breathing with me." Bones kept murmuring to him for a few more minutes until the dizziness he hadn't even felt at first passed and he could see straight again.

"I can't, Bones. I can't." Jim croaked. He couldn't make himself any clearer but he could see that McCoy understood.

He looked down and nodded his head before lifting his gaze back to Jim. "Okay, Jim."

But Jim could see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes, he wouldn't push Jim on this after his panic attack, the need to help and heal was ingrained too strongly in him. He'd rather suffer himself than cause any hurt to Jim.

"Bones-" Jim started.

"I get it, Jim. Really. It's okay. We're okay." McCoy cut him off. He pulled back on the sofa and made as if to stand.

Jim's hand shot out and circled McCoy's wrist, "Bones, wait...I…" He stopped and shook his head, tightening his grip on his friends wrist. He took a deep and tried again. "I want…I need…fuck."

McCoy sat back and place his hand tentatively over Jim's hand on his wrist. "We don't have to talk about this tonight, we have time, Jim. And if you decide you don't ever want to talk about this, that's fine too. We'll be okay."

Jim shook his head again, more forcefully. "I'm not okay, Bones. I'm fucked up." A frown appeared on McCoy's face and he opened his mouth to interrupt. "I am, Bones. Always have been. I was born into a fucked up situation and it has just kept on coming." Jim looked down to their joined hands and shrugged. He knew himself well enough to know that if he didn't get it all out now, he wouldn't have the balls for this conversation later.

"Sometimes I just…wish I couldn't feel, I wish I couldn't love. I wish that I could stop 'cause it hurts so much." He heard McCoy draw in a sharp breath at the mention of love. Did he still not get it?

"It would be better for you if you didn't want," Jim gestured to himself with his free hand. "this. I'm flawed, Bones."

McCoy made a noise of disagreement, "Flawed? Kid, you're a genius." He held up a hand to forestall Jim's protests. "You're smart, kind, charming…hell I'll even cop to funny after hearing some of your lame jokes." He squeezed Jim's hand. "Besides, I have a few of my own flaws."

Jim snorted, "Growling like a bear at everyone that looks at you before noon isn't a flaw, Bones."

"I'm obsessive, I'm sarcastic, I'm stubborn as all hell…but you're my friend anyway." He counted them off on his fingers. Jim hesitated, what McCoy was saying was true – he was all those things, but so much more.

"I'm paranoid, even more stubborn than you, I'm terrible with any kind of relationship-"

"Jim, we've been friends for 8 years now, that's a long time. You're not as terrible at relationships as you think. Also, those flaws you listed? Aren't flaws." Jim snorted again, more forcefully this time. "They're not flaws, Jim, they're scars. Battle scars." Bones said, softly. "And I wouldn't be much of a doctor if I let a few scars scare me away."

Jim stared at him, wide eyed. Huh, he'd never thought of it that way. It had never occurred to him to view the cracks that he saw as flaws as wounds that remained from his past. It made sense, objectively. But years of self doubt couldn't be erased over night.

"We have time, Jim. And if you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life showing you exactly why I think you're worth it." Bones said, tenderly.

Maybe it was time for a leap of faith, he thought, reminding himself that he trusted Bones more than anyone else in the entire universe. Releasing a shaky breath, Jim nodded slowly.

Some battle scars would never fully heal, but maybe Bones could sooth the ache they had left behind. Maybe. They had time to figure it out.

-END-