"I was born with the wrong sign, in the wrong house, with the wrong ascendancy.", Jim sobbed along the numbing song playing through the speakers in his quarters. He was spread out on his bed, lying on his stomach and his head rested sideways on the damp pillow. It was nearing 2. am and he was still wide awake. There was nothing he desired more right now then to close his eyes and fall asleep, but he couldn't. Thoughts kept him conscious; thoughts of failure and of past mistakes. Jim sniffed loudly and turned his head to bury his face in the soft pillow, hugging it closer and muffling any sound that might escape his raw lips.

Today was one of those days. Technically it had been an average day, nothing really exciting had happened, but also nothing terribly horrible; and definitely nothing that had triggered him. He'd felt on edge since this morning, a nervous feeling at the back of his head which Jim had decided to ignore.

Until it resurfaced. He was standing on the bridge, simply watching the stars pass by – only routine work, monotonous – when doubt hit him. Am I the right guy for this job? Am I qualified enough to make these decisions? A nauseous feeling spread from his guts up his throat and left a bitter taste on his tongue. Jim excused himself and hurried to his quarters, fearing he would throw up every second now. As the Captain he had the right to retreat to his bedroom if he felt sick; and his shift would have been over in less than half an hour anyway, but he still felt guilty. I am the worst Captain, ever. I'm leaving my crew alone on the bridge just because I can't get my shit together. He'd felt guilty and worthless.

And now, even hours later, the sick feeling just wouldn't go away; as if someone was tying his guts into tight knots.

Jim huffed a shaky breath into the pillow, slightly tilting his head to the left to catch air before he rubbed his face against the soft fabric again. His body trembled with the cries that wouldn't come, his ears long deaf to the music filling the silence of his room.

Spock had just wanted to receive a PADD from his room when he heard the slow and lulling monotony of some song playing in the Captains room. At first he thought nothing of it - it was more often then not that the Captain listens to old earthen music in his free time. It was the late hour and the fact that the song was still playing when Spock returned with the PADD from his quarters that made him stop in his tracks. He halted before the Captains door, unsure if to knock or to keep going. He remembered a conversation he had overheard at the start of his shift; the Captain had left his shift early, saying he was feeling unwell. In this case it was his duty as first officer to make sure he was all right. But what if he was asleep? The Captain might wake from his knocking and waking him was the last thing on Spock's mind.

The Vulcan checked the corridor and made sure he was alone before he leaned towards the door and held his ear against it. The music – still the same song – was much louder now. "There's something wrong with me, chemically, something wrong with me inherently."

A drained voice hummed along the melody and Spock heard the slow movement of what seemed to be his Captain on the bed. Clearly not asleep.

He knocked loudly and waited a moment before speaking. "Captain? Are you feeling all right?"

There was another sound which didn't belong to the music, but it was impossible to make out any concrete words. "Captain?", Spock asked again.
"I'm fine, Spock.", answered the voice, clearer this time but the tone and the words were quite contradicting.

"I find you are not being honest with me, Jim."

Spock hoped to set Jim at ease by calling him by his first name; however, Jim still refused to tell him the truth,

"It's nothing, I'll be all right tomorrow."

Spock pierced the door with his eyes; Jim was clearly unwell and if the sound of his voice was anything to go by he might as well be in pain.

"May I come in?", he tried.

Again a muffled response, but this time Spock managed to encrypt it as a negative response.

"Have you slept?"

There was only shifting on the bed and this time no response at all.

"Then I might inform you that it is already 'tomorrow'", Spock said in what he hoped was a 'teasing' tone, which – in 78.4% of the observed situations - resulted in a positive or amused comment from Jim. Not so this time.

"I really don't want to talk to anybody right now.", Jim said in the clearest voice he could muster. "Just leave.", he added to himself and dropped and arm over his puffy eyes.

Spock began to feel concerned; he'd never seen Jim like this. Clearly there was something that could be done to help his friend and so Spock stood outside, contemplating what to do next.

He could override the door code - hack it if necessary - but Jim had stated unmistakably that he wanted his privacy right now. He could leave, just as the Captain suggested, and see if the 'problem would solve itself'; however, as a Vulcan, he knew that it was impossible for problems to solve themselves and he dismissed the idea of leaving instantly. Turning ideas around in his head, Spock came to the only logical conclusion: he had to consult with Dr. McCoy.

The Doctor was well adversed in human behaviour – being a human himself – and he was a person the Captain considered his friend. Aside from that, Jim and Dr. McCoy knew each other before either of them started duty on the Enterprise, therefore it was very likely that the Doctor would be able to help Jim in such a state.

He found the man in his office, PADDs draped all over the large desk and a concentrated grimace on the Doctors face. Spock was a bit surprised to find the Doctor working in the middle of the night and considered for a moment if he owed him more credit than he'd previously thought, before he filed the thought away for later analysis.

He focused on the matter at hand and knocked firmly before stepping in.

McCoy jolted up at the unexpected visit.

"Spock! What the hell are you doing here, to you even know what time it is?"

"I am well aware of the time, Doctor, it's 0213. The Captain is feeling unwell and I seek your assistance.", Spock stated matter-of-factly.
Already on full alert McCoy stood from the desk and strode past Spock to Jim's quarters.

"Jim is ill? My assistance? What happened?"

"I do not know. He refuses to talk to me.", the Vulcan answered, worry apparent in his eyes.

"That does not sound like Jim..."
"Indeed, I find his behaviour most unsettling. He stated that he 'really doesn't want to talk to anybody right now' and-"
"Is he listening to music? Like, the same song, over and over?"
"Yes, he is. Is it relevant?"

McCoy slowed his step slightly and huffed annoyed. "God damn it, he's on his damn period again.", he snarled, waving his hand dismissively.
"Doctor, you, as the medical chief officer, must know that human males cannot-"
"Yes I know, I didn't mean it literally!", he shock his head unbelievingly before continuing. "Jim may be out of puberty, but sometimes... well, sometimes his hormones just do weird things! As if he's on his period; he'll get weird mood-swings and be all edgy...", he cut himself off as they stopped outside of Jim's quarters. McCoy knocked harshly, a frown covering his face.

"Damnit Jim, quit sulking! You had us all worried."
"Shut up Bones, I don't want to talk to you right now. Why can't you just leave?! Why are you even here?"

"Because the hobgoblin will kick my ass if I don't at least try to get you to talk to us."
"Spock is there too?!"

"Affirmative."
Jim huffed exasperated. "I told you to leave."
"And I left. You didn't specify that I wasn't allowed to come back.", Spock explained calmly.

McCoy shock his head, annoyance turning into amusement. The whole scene was just too absurd.
"I feel like shit...", Jim coaxed, rubbing his hands over his face. He was now on his back, starring at the dark ceiling.

"Anybody would feel like shit if he had to listen to this crap! Turn off the music Jim, and open the door."
"The doctor is right, the music is definitely not... helpful to your recovery."
McCoy shot Spock a glance, before he nodded to himself and turned towards the door again. When he spoke, his voice had a softer edge to it,

"Look, we'll give you,... let's say, 10 minutes, okay? We'll leave, fetch something to eat and when we come back, we'll talk and you'll feel better, all right?"

Spock inclined his head in a asking manner, but the Doctor just raised his hand as a signal to wait.

"Can you get me some,... I don't know, something sweet?" Jim's voice sounded hopeful and tired and it made something in Spock's stomach clench.
"Mousse au chocolate sounds good?", McCoy grinned to himself and ran a hand over his face in disbelieve. "With the little brownie chunks?"
"Oh god, I love you."
"You're welcome, kid, see you in 10 minutes."

The Doctor turned and made his way to the cafeteria, Spock close by; still an asking expression on his face.
"See, the thing is,...", McCoy began as he inserted his card to the dessert replicator, "... Jim actually wants to talk to us. I know it's not logical, but that's how it is. He's in his room, alone, basically drowning in self-pity, listening to god damn Depeche Mode for Christ's sake.", he spit the name as if it was a curse and retrieved the first bowl of the promised Mousse au chocolate.

Spock decided to replicate different kinds of food which could be described as 'finger-food' and a cup of tea and a small bowl of steamed vegetables for himself - still attentively listening to the Doctors voice.

"So yeah, he feels lonely but at the same time he's stuck in some deep hole of nothingness, rethinking and overthinking all the things he's ever done and said, every decision he's ever made and if I know one thing after sharing a room with Jim at the Academy, it's that he's damn insecure sometimes. I'm telling you this because for some reason Jim chose you to be his friend, and we as Jim's friends have to work together here." McCoy looked up from his plate and met Spock's gaze. "I still hate your guts, so don't get your hopes up.", he said, brows furrowed but his words lacking the usual fierce.

Spock wasn't sure what to make of this or what to answer and so the silence dragged on. Both men were still looking at each other before McCoy started to feel uncomfortable and decided to say something.

"Ever tried Mousse au chocolate?", he asked casually, eyes on the replicator again which was working on McCoy's portion of the dessert.

"No, I haven't, as chocolate has some unwanted effect on Vulcans."
"What kind of effect? Are you allergic or something?" He placed his portion beside Jim's and started to turn towards the exit.
"It can be compared to the effect of alcohol on humans."

McCoy's lips twitched up and he stopped in his tracks. He set the tray down again and pressed the button once more. A third bowl of mousse au chocolate joined the other two shortly after and the Doctor turned to go for good. He felt the questioning gaze of Spock's eyes on his back but ignored it.

"Jim simply loves this stuff! It's like his perfect comfort-food."

"It does smell quite fascinating." Spock stated, following McCoy again as he lead the way out of the cafeteria. They stopped in front of the Doctor's quarters. "Now let me just fetch a bottle of bourbon...", he muttered, opening the door and quickly stepping inside. He grabbed the wanted bottle balancing the tray on his left arm and returned to Spock who was waiting patiently outside his quarters.

They reached Jim a moment later. "At least he turned off the music...", the Doctor muttered, not bothering with knocking this time.

"We're ready Jim, how about you?", he yelled, making his impatience clear.

"Do you have the mousse?"
"You'll find out if you open the door.", McCoy replied, rolling his eyes.
There was a moment of silence before the door finally, finally slid open.

The Doctor stepped inside, Spock quick to follow and they both flinched at the stench in the room.

"Goddamnit man, is your air conditioning broken or something? Jesus..."
Jim just shrugged his shoulders and tried his best not to fall back into the bed; after all he'd used quite some energy to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position. McCoy shot a glance at Spock and motioned with his head to the food they'd bought with them, as well as the bottle of alcohol. The Vulcan understood the implication and started arranging the food on a small table, then searching for three glasses. He'd heard of the term 'social drinking' and knew that, in the human culture, people who drunk together often shared a deep bond. It was only logical to now partake in this custom given the circumstances.

McCoy took the place to Jim's right on the bed, putting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a firm embrace. "Did you know that Vulcans get drunk from chocolate?", McCoy whispered; realization hitting Jim in the face.
"Are you telling me Spock is getting drunk tonight?", he asked, his gaze shifting from the bowls on the table to his friends.
"I don't know, are you, Spock?"

"I believe that is the whole purpose of our meeting tonight, is it not?", the Vulcan answered, returning from the kitchen area.
"Damn right it is! I even bought your favourite bourbon along."

"Wow, a drunk Spock,... I can't even imagine-... Hey, will you be all slurry, and rambling and stuff?" Jim's eyes followed his movement and Spock was relieved to see the familiar sparkle returning.

"Well, we'll find out sooner or later,...", McCoy smirked, glad that Jim was so easy to distract sometimes. Taking the glass and the bowl Spock was handing to him, he waited until everyone was seated. Jim took the other pair and finally Spock sat down on Jim's left side, Jim in the middle, his cloths still twisted and his hair a mess but nobody paid it much attention.

"To awful earthen alternative music, to weird alien biology and to good old bourbon.", McCoy exclaimed, raising his glass. Jim and Spock chinked glasses with him and Jim felt the knot loosen as he took the first sip.

"You know, maybe I did some things right.", he mused and emptied his glass.