From the previous chapter: Suddenly, a transporter beam was engaged. Leonard looked frantically around the sim room, even though he already knew who had been taken. A second later, the Sarvoskan in the middle of the screen stepped aside, allowing a full view of other two dissidents, who were holding a struggling Jim Kirk between them.

.&.

Something in Leonard's chest seized like a rabbit in a trap. It's just a sim, it's just a sim. In the span of half a heartbeat, Leonard realized he'd never again be able to brush off Jim Kirk as nothing more than a drinking buddy, an unlikely friend, and the most endearing pain in the ass he'd ever met.

And then one of Jim's captors belted him in the stomach, and he crumbled to his knees, coughing and sputtering. It was in the span of that other half-heartbeat that Leonard decided that he was indeed capable of killing another living being.

On the sim floor, the cadets had gone dead silent. They knew they were playing a different game now, but all they could do was to react carefully and continue to play along. Merino stepped forwards.

"As long as you have one of my crew captive, the Federation will not negotiate. Your only chance at gaining our cooperation is to release our Ensign. If you require a captive, take me instead, and we may negotiate."

The Sarvoskan laughed bitterly. "Commander, do you think that would serve our purpose? If we kill you first, you can not talk to your Federation leaders. However, you might be more enthusiastic to cooperate with the motivation of seeing your crew members tortured, one by one. I have heard that you humans are emotionally sensitive creatures. What will it take to motivate you?"

He gave a twitch of his head, and one of his henchmen suddenly shifted his grip on Jim, pinning Jim's elbows tightly behind him while the other captor struck his face once, then twice. Jim grunted in pain as his head snapped back, but he quickly called out, "Don't listen to him, Commander! Don't compromise anything! I'll -"

One of the captors was suddenly holding a strange stick-like device, which he prodded against Jim's side. There as an electrical whine and crackle, and Jim cried out as his body jolted and his knees buckled. The medical sensor alarm beeped, and Leonard quickly noted that Jim had indeed been hit with a hefty jolt of electricity. No real risk to a healthy adult, but definitely enough to be painful, and possibly enough to be temporarily debilitating.

It was apparently not enough to debilitate Jim Kirk. Just as quickly as he'd been shocked, Jim regained his footing and wrenched his arms free of his captor's grasp. With a desperate but controlled swing, he made a close-quarters strike with his elbow, clipping the first captor sharply in the jaw and sending him reeling. Then sweeping out with his foot, he caught the other henchman behind the knee and dropped him.

However, the Sarvoskan who seemed to be leading the trio was too far away for Jim to strike quickly. Before Jim could even take a step towards him, he'd drawn a weapon and aimed it. There was a flash of light and a pained cry of surprise as Jim collapsed backwards, his arms loosely wrapped over his abdomen.

There was something that didn't look quite right there, and Leonard spun around and checked the med sensor readouts. The Sarvoskan weapon, although not fully set to stun, was set higher than it would have been for a first-year sim. Jim hadn't taken a fall. He'd gone down because the blast had temporarily overwhelmed his nervous system. Feeling his own hands shake, Leonard pulled up a more detailed scan. Jim was conscious, but unable to move, lying in a heap on the floor of the hostage room. He was almost still, save for the slight twitching of his limbs from nerves firing randomly. It had to hurt like hell. His heart rate fluctuated a bit, but held within acceptable limits - What defines acceptable? Leonard thought darkly.

The two henchmen had already gotten to their feet. Leonard clenched his jaw when one of the captors kicked Jim's prone form and a faint moan came over the speakers. The head dissident spoke again. "This one has spirit. Should you refuse to cooperate, I am certain that he will be most amusing."

"Cooperate with what?" Merino said, her voice strained. "What are your demands?"

"First, the return of our leader. If he has been killed, you will pay. Second, I demand that the Federation withdraw from Sarvos, and that our own government recognizes the sovereign rights of the northern continent."

From the floor of the hostage room, Jim moaned, "Don't do it, Commander -" He was cut off by another kick to the gut.

Leonard bit his tongue.

Krae'vex spoke up next. "If you continue to abuse our guests in this manner, it will do nothing to help your cause. You will gain nothing by injuring our Federation friend."

"Friend." He spat the word. "This human is nothing to us. Just an animal. Yet you care for them more than for your own citizens of the northern continent. It is nothing to kill him. And Ambassador, he would merely be the first. Your communications have been cut off and your transporter frequencies have been scrambled. We control who comes and goes from this room. We will continue to take the Council Members and the Federation delegates one by one until you are the only one remaining, unless you cooperate with us." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Tie him up."

In the sim room, Hudson continued to try to crack through the communications block to reach the Essex. Merino and Krae'vex danced the volatile dance of hostage negotiations. On the observation deck, the officers tapped notes into their datapads. Pike watched the proceedings as if he could drill holes through the viewports with his eyes. Leonard… barely noticed any of it.

Technically, he was doing what a good doctor would do. There was only one person in the sim who was at medical risk, so his attention should be focused on Jim. However, he couldn't deny that his own heart beat a little too fast, and his own hands shook slightly as they pulled up detailed scans. He couldn't deny that each time his gaze jumped up to the viewports, his eyes were fixed on Jim's body, which was being manhandled far too roughly by his captors.

Ropes were wrapped, twisted, and tightened around his wrists and ankles. A blindfold was dropped over his eyes. And finally, a cloth gag was stuffed into his mouth and tied tightly. Jim, who had smoothly succeeded in beating the first round of the simulation, almost by himself, was now completely immobilized and helpless. On his stomach at first, he was hauled bodily to his feet. His legs were practically boneless beneath him, and the two Sarvoskans jostled him as they held him up like a prize catch.

There was a warning beep from the med sensors. The effect of the weapon was wearing off, and Jim's motor control was starting to return. As it did, his heart rate jumped even more so than when he'd initially been captured. Adrenaline spiked suddenly as well - far higher than it should have. He appeared to struggle a bit, but Leonard could see that he was shaking, not struggling.

The negotiations continued. Leonard ignored them.

His attention alternated between the sim floor and the medical sensors. There was no internal bleeding. There were no serious injuries. The effects of the weapon blast had completely worn off, and his nervous system was no longer reacting to the electricity that had been used to jolt him. Although the captors held him in a tight and unrelenting grip, they didn't hit him again. Still, Jim's breathing continued to become more rapid, and his heart rate was still climbing. Blood pressure going up… and up…

"Doctor McCoy, what's wrong?" Pike had whispered the question, but it startled Leonard nonetheless.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Nothing, Sir. I just… they're being a bit rough with him."

A strange look ghosted across Pike's face: understanding. "What about the alarms? You seem concerned."

Leonard conceded the point with a nod. "Kirk seems to be feeling a bit panicked, but nothing outside of the regulations." He hesitated, then decided to press forward. "Captain, why the change in the simulation?"

To Leonard's surprise, Captain Pike actually looked pissed, but not at the question. "They beat the primary scenario, but far too quickly. This sim has several options for continuation, and we still need to test the rest of the team for a real hostage situation. So… this is one we'd throw at a third-year team." The irritation in his expression clearly said that this was not his choice of scenarios for this team, but he wasn't in charge of this sim deck. Toland was - which made it blatantly clear why Jim had been chosen as the first hostage.

Leonard's breath stuck in his throat, and he coughed past it. "What are the medical risks to the cadets?"

Pike shook his head. "Nothing life-threatening. They just rough 'em up a bit. But the longer they go…" He shrugged. "It's not a no-win scenario, but the dissidents aren't supposed to agree to any compromises, and if the cadets stick to regulations, they won't compromise either. The test is to see whether or not the cadets will stick to their guns and uphold Federation policy, even if they start losing people, and whether they can still try to find a way out while under pressure. Basically, the key to this one would be overriding the communications, transporter, and exit hatch lockouts so they can escape, or holding out until the Essex breaks through."

"Do first-year cadets usually have the skills for that?"

Pike's mouth pressed into a tense line. "Only one on this team." He turned and walked back to the other officers.

Another beep, more insistent than the last, pinged from the med sensors. Jim was starting to hyperventilate. Adrenaline levels were spiking off the charts; heart rate was skyrocketing, becoming irregular. Leonard frowned. The hell? He looked back out at the sim, squinting across the room at the viewscreen showing the dissidents and Jim, but it was too far away to see well. He reached down and tapped a few buttons to pull up the hostage room broadcast on his own monitor so he could get a better view of what was happening. Behind the lead hostage-taker, still flanked by the two subordinate goons, Jim was trembling violently. Even underneath the blindfold and gag, it was easy to see that his face was deathly gray.

Then, all at once, his whole body went slack, just as his sensor alarm wailed.

Commander Toland, get him out of there! Leonard barely realized it was his own voice yelling at the senior officer as he rapidly took in the sudden change in Jim's status. Unconscious, blood pressure so low it was unreadable, heartbeat weak and unstable. How it had changed so quickly, Leonard didn't know, but he cursed himself for taking his eyes away for even a moment.

Toland strutted across the room to the med station, arms folded across her chest. "Cadet McCoy, you can't just beam people out of real emergencies because they faint. Just because your friend's fortitude crumbles when he's not in control doesn't mean -"

Leonard whirled on her, feeling a fury welling up in him that he couldn't quite define, and didn't want to. "It's Doctor McCoy right now, Commander. Cadet Kirk hasn't just fainted - he's less than a minute away from cardiac arrest," he snarled. "This is a medical emergency. I'm the doctor here, and I'm pulling rank. Get. Him. Out. Of. There."

The Commander glanced down at the monitor, and her eyes went wide as she realized what the readouts meant. Maybe she didn't like Jim, and maybe she wanted to scare him a bit, but it was clear that she didn't want any of the cadets in real danger. "Okay. Ramirez, pull him out."

A few rapid commands from the tech to the sim floor, and the hostage takers responded. Leonard watched as they claimed that Merino did not care about that particular hostage, pretended to kill him, and tossed him aside. A second later, the transporter beam engaged and Jim appeared on the pad, a motionless heap of twisted limbs, like the nightmare Leonard had imagined barely a half hour ago.

Over the observation deck speakers, Leonard heard the captors taking another hostage, the negotiations becoming more tense, and the scuffle of the new hostage being tied and gagged, but he put it out of his mind as he ran forward, emergency kit in hand. "Help me get him off the pad," he barked out to nobody in particular as he untangled Jim and removed the restraints, blindfold, and gag. He wasn't surprised that it was Pike who took Jim's feet and helped to carry him.

Jim was an absolute dead weight, body slack and heavy as they settled him on the floor. To Leonard's grim satisfaction, Pike kept Jim's feet elevated - thank God someone else around here has a goddamned clue - and he nodded his approval, but didn't wait to see if Pike acknowledged it or not, because the only thing that mattered just then was Jim. Without thinking, like a stupid, compulsive whim, he found himself reaching for Jim's wrist, because he needed the old-fashioned reassurance of feeling a pulse thrumming steadily beneath his fingertips.

It wasn't there.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, pulling out the tricorder for a more thorough scan. There were no serious injuries - just some contusions - but Jim had completely succumbed to shock. His heart was still beating, albeit irregularly, but he had no vascular tone, his blood pressure was too low to read, and he was barely breathing.

"What happened?" Pike asked, a neutral tone barely covering the high emotions running just beneath the surface.

"Shock. Pretty severe." Leonard hesitated, then lied through his teeth. "They set that phaser too high. Must have hit his nervous system harder than it seemed. After the electrical prod, it was too much. I thought it might happen, but I didn't expect it to be this bad."

What Pike didn't know wouldn't hurt anyone. By the time Jim had passed out, the effects of the weapon blast and electrical shock had completely worn off. While that might have contributed to the deterioration in Jim's condition, this was something else entirely. Leonard had his suspicions, but he had no proof, and at the moment, all that mattered was taking care of physical symptoms. He loaded a dose of amiodarone and vasopressin into the hypospray and pressed it against Jim's neck. Pike was saying something, but Leonard didn't really hear him as he scanned Jim again. He was beginning to consider risking a dose of cordrazine when Jim's vitals finally showed the first signs of improvement.

Leonard dropped the tricorder and grabbed Jim's hand, not caring what anyone thought. Besides, physical contact was soothing and grounding for patients and often helped them come back after an episode like this. Just a good bedside manner. "Jim," he said softly, giving the unresponsive hand a tight squeeze. "Come on, breathe, kid. Can you hear me?"

A few seconds later, Jim gave a weak groan. His mouth moved, but there were no words.

Leonard felt one of the knots of tension in his stomach begin to loosen. "You're doing great, Jim." He glanced up at Pike, who was still dutifully keeping Jim's legs elevated. "Captain, try moving his feet and legs around a bit. That'll help get the blood circulating again."

Captain Pike didn't question the order. He nodded, and began gently moving Jim's legs, flexing and stretching knees and calves. Jim groaned again, and finally his hand squeezed Leonard's weakly in return.

"That's it, Jim. Talk to me."

Jim's mouth opened and closed a few times, working as if he was trying to form words, but there were only incoherent sounds, faint and confused. His weak, shallow breathing was interrupted by a thin cough, then another. He suddenly sucked in several deeper, convulsive breaths as his body fought for the air it needed to wake him up, even if he was unaware of it.

Once Jim's breathing had evened out again, Leonard leaned in closer. "Jim? Do you know where you are?"

Blue eyes flicked open, unfocused and glazed, not really seeing anything, blinking rapidly. And Jim whispered, barely audible, "Sam? Did we get away?"

Leonard frowned. "Get away?"

"Is it over?" Bleary eyes fell shut again. "We get 'way from Kodos?"

Leonard felt his stomach clench and his spine straighten. He'd only heard the name 'Kodos' from one thing… but that was insane… it couldn't… Jim couldn't…

"Jim, try to focus. Can you hear me?"

Eyelids fluttered, opened, and closed as Jim's head lolled to the side.

Leonard reached down with his free hand and cradled Jim's cheek, trying to hold him steady. "Come on, Jim, stay with me. Do you know where you are?"

"Sam? 'z that you? D'we get off Tarsus yet, Sam?"

Leonard might as well have been slapped in the face. He had imagined that. Or Jim was delusional. Or he had misunderstood Jim's delirious whispering, which really had been too soft to be heard clearly. Whatever he thought he'd heard, he hadn't. Just hadn't. He swallowed, trying to ignore the brick of ice that had just dropped into his stomach. "No Jim, it's Leonard." He took an unsteady breath. "It's Bones."

"Bones?" He blinked a few more times, his eyes beginning to show the first signs of lucidity. "Bones… I'm… wha' happened? Where 'm I?" His words were slow and slurred, but he was there. Finally.

"You're on the training sim observation deck, Jim." Leonard felt a bit nauseous at the idea that Jim really had no idea where he was. He looked so small, disoriented, and lost. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"I… I… there was… hostage… it's training." A look of relief, weak but stark, washed over Jim's features. "Jus' training."

Jim's hand started to shake in Leonard's, and Leonard squeezed tighter in response. "That's right. Just breathe and relax, Jim. You're okay." At least, he would be okay. He was still dreadfully pale; his lips gray and cheeks sallow. Not good at all. Leonard looked up and called across the observation deck. "Commander Toland, page Medical and have them send a stretcher and a replacement doctor. I'm taking Cadet Kirk to the infirmary."

"You're assigned to this station until the training sim is over, McCoy. I'm sure the other doctors can take perfectly adequate care of Cadet Kirk. You can see your friend later."

Flabbergasted, McCoy let his mouth drop open in indignant amazement. Fucking unbelievable. He dropped Jim's hand, although he didn't want to. Standing at his full height, letting his presence be as imposing as he could, and Leonard glared at Toland. "Right now, I wouldn't care if I didn't know this guy from Adam. Regulation states that care and transport of a patient is to be determined by his attending physician. I'm going with Cadet Kirk. Find yourself another doctor for the rest of this simulation." He was satisfied to see Toland wilt just a little bit. Taking advantage of her momentary wavering, he took a threatening step towards her. "And have your sim actors turn down the juice on that damned cattle prod before you have a whole squad of first year cadets going down needlessly. Doctor's orders."

Looking angry but thoroughly cowed, Toland spun on her heel and marched back across the observation deck. Leonard overheard her snapping orders irritably at the techs, who relayed messages to the infirmary and the sim floor, but he was already back down on one knee, scanning Jim with his tricorder. Satisfied that Jim was making slow but steady improvement, he put the tricorder aside and grabbed his hand again. Under the skin of Jim's wrist, which felt too delicate at that moment for a man who liked to feign invincibility, a thin pulse thrummed its rhythm. "Hang in there, Jim," he said softly. "We're gonna take care of you. Just relax now. Keep breathing."

Jim looked up at him, his pale face uncertain and anxious, but then he slowly let his eyes fall shut. "I… 'm embarrassed," he said so low that nobody but Leonard would hear him.

"What the hell for? Those bastards shocked you and beat you up. It's a normal reaction."

Jim gave a grunt that sounded more like a moan, and let his head turn to the side. It was clear that he wasn't going to say anything else on the matter, but still, Leonard felt his hand grip just a little bit tighter.

With a sigh, Leonard looked up at Captain Pike again. "You can probably put his feet down now, Captain. His blood pressure is still low, but he's stable." He nodded a sincere flash of gratitude. "Thank you."

"Not a problem, Doctor. You needed a hand, and I was here." He gently set Jim's feet on the floor, and his mouth curled up in another one of his inscrutable little grins. "It seems I have a habit of just 'being here' when Mr. Kirk finds himself flat on his back."

Jim's head came up with a lurch. "Pike?" He croaked, and just as quickly dropped his head back down again with a groan. "Urgh… bad idea. Captain Pike, what are you doing here?"

"Can't an Academic Advisor have the privilege of watching some of his advisee's training exercises?"

Pike's tone was professional, but Leonard barely kept his mouth from falling open as he sensed a note of affection, almost paternal, under the surface. How did Jim end up with the goddamned Commandant of Cadets as his Academic Advisor?

"Yeah," Jim muttered noncommittally.

"Oh, and Kirk… the first part of the sim there… nice work."

Jim grunted in a way that Leonard was sure he'd meant as a 'thank you,' but the way he then turned his head to the side and fell silent screamed shame. The look made something in Leonard break a little bit. There was no further time to think about it because the stretcher was arriving, and Leonard was briefing his replacement while they lifted Jim onto the stretcher, and he and the medic were wheeling Jim out the door while Leonard shot one last furious glare over his shoulder at Commander Toland.

She was looking the other way.

Pike wasn't.

.&.

"This is embarrassing, Bones. I don't need a doctor. I'm fine," Jim mumbled.

"You could have fooled me," Leonard said neutrally as he ran the scanner over Jim again. Even with meds, his blood pressure had only just climbed back up to 90/55 - better, but still too low for Leonard's comfort - and he still looked a bit peaky. However, the more his condition had improved during the trip across campus and once they'd reached the infirmary, the more he'd complained about being there. At least now they had the illusion of privacy from the sound-dampening curtain around Jim's biobed. "You didn't see yourself, kid. It wasn't pretty."

"I'm always pretty."

Leonard snorted. "Yeah, Jim. Yeah." He sighed. "That was one of the worst cases of shock I've ever seen, including the worst-case training sims I did in med school. You had no pulse."

That finally seemed to get through to Jim. "I what?"

"Your whole body shut down. No pulse. No blood pressure. Your BP still isn't quite back to normal. Maybe I should stick you with an old-fashioned IV to bring it back up faster."

Jim shuddered. "You're a sadist. Hyposprays are evil enough. And whatever was in that last one is making my scalp feel all weird. No need to turn me into a pin cushion."

"Fine, then. Stop whining and keep drinking your water."

Jim made a face at him but dutifully took another sip from the cup he was holding.

With a barely satisfied grunt, Leonard finally placed the tricorder probe back in its slot and set the whole thing aside. He leaned on the edge of the biobed and gave Jim a pointed look. "You gave me a bit of a scare, Jim. You looked like a ghost. Even with some pretty powerful drugs, it still took you a couple of minutes to start coming around. You had no idea where you were or who was talking to you."

Jim's mouth hung open for a second, then snapped shut as he looked away again in avoidance. Leonard narrowed his eyes. Oh no you don't.

"Who's Sam?"

Something in Jim's face closed up. "Drop it, Bones."

Leonard wasn't about to give in. "You were asking for him. Who is he?"

"Bones, you don't want to go there."

"As your attending physician, I need to know what happened. If you were hallucinating or severely disoriented, I have to make sure you're okay before I can clear you for duty." Inwardly, Leonard gave himself a mental slap. He was lying again, twice in one day, within the context of his profession. Inexcusable. It was perfectly normal for patients to experience disorientation after passing out, and to be confused about their surroundings. Leonard had to admit, to himself anyway, that he was too tempted by his need to uncover another piece of the puzzle that was Jim Kirk to adhere to standard protocol, and too worried about his best friend to let the matter drop.

"Where were you?"

"I… Bones, don't… please."

"I heard what you said. I didn't want to believe it."

"Please don't do this." He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. "I don't even… I didn't even remember -"

"Yes. You do." Leonard lowered his voice and spoke in an undertone. "What the hell happened, Jim? You didn't go into shock because of the electrical jolt or the phaser blast. I was monitoring you. It only started once you'd been tied up. What happened to you? Why did you start to hyperventilate, even when they weren't hurting you?" He squared his jaw and went right for the heart of the matter. "Were you on Tarsus IV?"

Suddenly, Jim's eyes went dark and stormy, like a veil had dropped and obscured the expressive blue that had shone openly and brilliantly since the day they'd met. It was like Jim had disappeared and another man had taken his place. He clenched his jaw, glaring daggers. "Doctor McCoy, is there any further medical reason for me to remain in the infirmary?"

For moment, Leonard was held captive by eyes of cold steel and the almost-physical sensation of ice splintering through his core. He'd never imagined Jim like this. Couldn't have imagined it. He knew there were wounds underneath the surface, but staring into the frozen depths of that glare, Leonard suddenly knew he'd just uncovered one that should have never been exposed, and might never heal. He'd run out of rope, and had just hung himself with it. Mouth dry, Leonard whispered, "No. You can return to duty tomorrow morning. Get some rest."

Without so much as a backwards glance, Jim swung his legs off the side of the biobed and stalked towards the infirmary door. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, but Leonard knew there was no way to stop him. But -

"Jim, wait."

Jim froze, but didn't look back. "What, McCoy?"

"During the sim… your performance as a medic. I promised I'd evaluate it. I did. You were great, Jim. I couldn't have done better myself."

Leonard thought he heard a faint, "Thanks, Bones," but then the infirmary door was sliding shut behind Jim and he was gone.

.&.

The afternoon spun by in a daze for Leonard. He left the infirmary and barely made it to his xenovirology lecture on time. Then he had a practical exam on shuttlecraft emergency medical response. That was followed by his regular four hour shift in the infirmary, which was spent patching up a gaggle of second-year cadets who'd gotten carried away in a Parisi Squares match. Leonard ran on autopilot, performing well enough to hide his distraction from everyone else, but unable to really focus. His mind wasn't at Starfleet Academy in San Francisco. It was on a planet he'd never seen before, running through sepia-toned images of the nightmare that was Tarsus IV.

It had been a modern-day Holocaust; the horror and shame of the entire Federation. Just ten years ago - goddammit, it's been ten years, hasn't it? - fresh enough to still cut into everyone's memories like a razor, wounds opening again every time it was mentioned.

Leonard had been nineteen years old. He remembered too clearly the holovids that had been broadcast across the quadrant. It had hardly seemed real, only because something so horrific couldn't be possible - not in this century, not in the Federation. People didn't talk about it because they couldn't. The mass graves, the needless loss of life, the children's haunted eyes and hollow cheeks …

Jim had been thirteen years old. Leonard liked to joke that Jim was a kid now, but they were both adults and their age difference didn't matter, not really. It had mattered in 2246, when James Kirk was only a child, surrounded by the most horrific tragedy in modern history. He hadn't actually admitted that he'd been there, but there was no other answer. And those holovids, all those children… which one had been Jim? Not every survivor had been listed, not every body had been counted. Some had given pseudonyms to avoid the media. Some had boarded any shuttle they could take, had disappeared into the black, and were never seen again.

He just hoped Jim wasn't going to disappear.

When his shift was finally over, Leonard lurched out of the infirmary and almost collided with Captain Pike, who was waiting in the main hallway. Leonard barely managed to catch himself before he crashed into the senior officer. "Sir! I… uh… what are - my apologies - what can I do for you, Captain?" Composure hadn't been his strong suit that day, and he inwardly cringed at his own babbling. Doctor Leonard H. McCoy did not babble.

It didn't seem to phase Captain Pike. "Doctor McCoy, relax. Please, this is unofficial business. No formalities."

Leonard forced his shoulders to relax, but his stomach was doing back-flips; he knew what this was about. Pursing his lips grimly, he jerked his head back towards the infirmary entrance. "There's coffee in the doctor's lounge, and there shouldn't be anyone in there at this hour."

Pike smiled, but it fell flat at his eyes. "Sounds good to me. Lead the way."

There were only two doctors and a handful of nurses on duty in the evenings, and they were nowhere to be seen as Leonard wove his way through the halls, desperate to be anywhere else, but knowing that he couldn't avoid this conversation. Shouldn't avoid this conversation. Really needed to have this goddamned conversation.

He flinched as they passed the entrance to the emergency ward, where he'd last seen Jim leaving in a huff. He tried to forget the sting he'd felt as his best friend had harshly called him McCoy, which just sounded wrong coming from Jim. He decided that maybe "Bones" would work just fine.

Finally, he shoved the door to the doctors' lounge open with his shoulder and held it to let Pike in. Automatically, he waited for the Captain to sit first, at the table, but Pike went directly to the armchairs in the back corner. Leonard raised an eyebrow, then walked over to the kitchenette and poured two cups of coffee.

The doctors were a bit spoiled, with a real coffee pot and a supply of actual ground Arabica beans. He suspected the Chief Medical Officer had made it a priority demand, and he wasn't complaining - it was the only place on campus where he could get real coffee without spending a fortune in credits. He had a funny feeling that he'd need it tonight.

"Cream? Sugar?" he asked automatically, looking back over his shoulder.

"Black tonight," Pike said, and Leonard thought he meant more than one thing.

Finally settled down with their cups of coffee, Leonard waited for Captain Pike to speak first, seeing as he was the one who'd come and found Leonard, but Pike just took a slow sip from his cup and held his silence, watching Leonard expectantly.

Fuck, it's my move. Pike was letting him set the tone. He could have started with any of a dozen things, but he went with the easiest. "Thanks for helping out on the observation deck. You know what you're doing."

Pike smiled - no enigma or hidden levels; just a smile. "I took First Responder Training, too, you know. And some of us actually remembered what we learned."

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed."

"So was I," Pike replied, clearly not talking about himself. "It's nice to see the occasional command track cadet paying attention to non-command courses. He was pretty good." He paused, and glanced down at his coffee. His smile faltered and twisted; a grim wound across his face. "Which leads to the obvious question," he continued. "How's Kirk?"

"Physically or otherwise?"

"Yes."

How did I know he'd say that? With a grimace, Leonard settled deeper into his chair, wrapping his hands around his cup as if he could gain some sort of comfort from it by osmosis. "Physically, he was doing well enough when he left."

Pike eyed Leonard sideways, the question obvious in his expression. "Left?" He was a man who obviously didn't know how to miss a beat.

"Yeah," Leonard sighed. "Well, technically, I did discharge him, but it was pretty clear that if I tried to keep him longer, he would have left anyway. His condition was stable, and if he got some rest like I told him to, he should be fine. Physically, that is."

"And otherwise?" He took a small sip of coffee, surveying Leonard critically over the rim of the cup.

Leonard mirrored Pike and took a swig of his own coffee, not caring that it was too hot to take such a large sip, scalding his esophagus. He felt like he deserved the pain at the moment. "I don't know what to say, Captain."

Pike shifted in his seat and leaned forward, fixing Leonard with a gaze that caught him and held him and was going to keep holding him until Pike was damn well good and done with him. "Well," he began thoughtfully, "pretend that you actually believe that I'm half-deaf and didn't hear a single thing Kirk said while he was semi-conscious on the observation deck floor. Imagine that I'm a medically ignorant command officer, and all I know is that Kirk suffered a severe case of shock from nothing more than a low-level phaser blast and a hand-held stunner that has less juice than an old-fashioned electric fence." He inclined his head. "So, from there, tell me what you think you need me to know about what happened to Cadet Kirk today."

His eyes were piercing and clear, and Leonard understood that he was probably sitting across from the most intelligent man he'd ever met. Or, perhaps, one of the two.

Leonard gave Pike a searching look, meeting his eyes dead on. There's no avoiding this, is there? "There are two separate things I'm going to tell you." He squared his shoulders.

"First - okay, let's pretend that you aren't an observant genius with damnably good hearing, and you didn't hear what Kirk said this morning, and you have no idea that this wasn't a normal case of shock. This is what Doctor McCoy, Cadet Kirk's attending physician, needs to tell Captain Pike, Cadet Kirk's academic advisor: Today, at 0847 hours, during a training sim, Cadet Kirk went into shock due to a combination of physical and emotional stress. A low-intensity phaser blast and electrical shock set the situation in motion, and the rough handling by the sim cadre exacerbated what might have been an inherent fear of being restrained. Cadet Kirk was treated for shock and temporary cardiac arrhythmia and released when his physical condition was stabilized. He is clear to return to duty tomorrow morning, provided that he suffers no further ill effects. I would recommend that in your next advising session with Cadet Kirk, you present him with a non-mandatory opportunity to seek counseling for this potential phobia."

He rattled it off as if he was making an official medical log entry. It was almost identical to what he'd recorded that morning; professional, impartial, clinical. Doctor McCoy can do clinical; he's a doctor, it's what he does - but Leonard felt himself crumble a little bit when Pike inclined his head and spoke again.

"So, what would Leonard tell Christopher about Jim?"

"Off the record?"

"Off the record."

Leonard took a slow, shuddering breath, trying to gather his thoughts. Pike had heard what Jim had said on the platform, and he did understand that there was far more to this. He was a goddamned perceptive bastard who seemed to know a little bit about everything - just like someone else Leonard knew, and someone they both apparently cared about far too much for their own sanity.

"He was there," Leonard said simply, as if that explained everything.

"He was." It was a statement of fact, like space being cold or water being wet, emotionless and immutable as stone.

Leonard hoped that Pike would say more, but there was only silence, so he grit his teeth and pushed forward. "I tried to ask him about it when I got him back to the emergency ward, but he got angry and wouldn't talk to me. Maybe he had a flashback, maybe it was a repressed memory, but he was there, and he's been hiding it all this time."

He bit down on his words, briefly thinking that he should at least try maintain a shred of decorum in front of a senior officer, but in a breath he decided that he didn't give a flying fuck anymore. "Dammit, I knew the kid had issues, but that - fuck. That's not issues; that's a goddamned catastrophe. He only started to go into shock after the effects of the phaser blast wore off and he was starting to realize that he was restrained. His adrenaline level spiked through the roof to the point where it overloaded his system. I've seen terror on people's faces, but never like that. You saw it, too, Sir."

Pike nodded. "I did. I didn't like it any more than you did."

"Oh really?" Leonard started to challenge, but then he let his shoulders slump. He shook his head and hid behind his coffee cup for a few seconds, hoping to suck down some emotional stability with his caffeine. When he lowered the cup, he saw Pike watching him calmly, and he jerked his head in concession. "Yeah, I know you didn't. It's just…"

Leonard had been ready to launch into a diatribe, but his voice left him. How would he say it? In just three months, I've watched Jim Kirk become a goddamned fixture on the face of reality. Now, something has shifted and snapped and he's not supposed to be like this; Jim is cocky, juvenile and even sometimes ridiculous because he's tarnished and broken… but dammit, this isn't just broken - it's fucking shattered. He felt his breath running harshly in his throat, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull it together, and finally said, "I just never imagined - how could I imagine that he'd been through something like that? Could you?"

Pike didn't answer, apparently lost in contemplation of his coffee, but that silence sent a funny feeling through Leonard. Could Pike have imagined it? What the hell could have given anyone a fucking clue that something like this - "Wait," Leonard said slowly, and Pike looked up. "His records," Leonard continued, feeling an oncoming surge of anger, because goddammit, it made a sick kind of sense. "His medical records," he clarified, "and the Starfleet records from… from Tarsus IV. Starfleet must have known, so you must have known. All of you had to have known!" He ground out the last bit through clenched teeth, an accusation laced with fury.

He expected Pike to throw back a witty explanation, some Starfleet-issue tap-dance routine justifying everything, but all he got was a hollow sort of sadness in the eyes that met his own. "No, McCoy. We didn't."

"What?" Leonard wasn't sure he'd understood that right. "What do you mean, you didn't?"

"Just that," Pike said to the coffee cup in his hands. "We didn't know. It wasn't in his records."

Leonard's mouth fell open incredulously. "Starfleet has a goddamn record on everything. How can you tell me they lost the records on any person who survived Tarsus IV? How could they let something like that slip?" Leonard knew he was walking on thin ice - stomping heavily, if he was honest with himself - but he didn't care.

"You weren't on Tarsus IV, McCoy," Pike said evenly. His voice wasn't reproachful, but it wasn't gentle either. "You didn't show up in one of the relief and rescue ships to help process and cart away the four thousand starving and desperate people whose families had been ripped apart, whose neighbors and friends had been slaughtered. You didn't carry children who hadn't had a decent meal in months. I did."

A block of ice lodged itself in Leonard's stomach; he said nothing, but he was sure the look on his face said it all.

Pike nodded. "How could Starfleet lose records in the middle of that? Easily. I believe the technical term is 'colossal cluster fuck.' Federation citizens are entitled to their freedom and anonymity, and when it was over, unless someone voluntarily entered the counseling and rehabilitation program the Federation offered, we had nothing on them. A lot of people didn't want to go on record; they just wanted to go home. The only things we had to go on to figure out who might have been there were the colony roster, which had some serious inconsistencies, the first-hand accounts by those few who were willing to testify, and the list of people Kodos had selected to keep." He paused and bowed his head. "They destroyed the other list."

Leonard's throat tightened at the thought of that other list. Jim was alive, so he couldn't have been on that one. "But if it's not in his records, that means Jim wasn't on any of those lists… so how did you know he was there? How did you confirm it? You sounded like you were sure."

"I didn't get where I am today by thinking inside the box," Pike said with the dry humor of a person who had learned to laugh at death because the only other choice was letting death win. "I spent this afternoon going back through the transport logs of visitors and short-term residents on Tarsus IV in the months leading up to the crisis. There weren't many. Believe me, he was there. I'm not sure how he avoided the counselors and doctors on the transports and at Starfleet Medical, especially at his age, but I've learned not to put anything past that kid."

For a long moment, Leonard sat still, feeling numb. He had a feeling that Pike wasn't telling the whole story, but maybe he simply hadn't found all the answers yet. It didn't matter. There was so much to consider anyway, with so many details, so many things he'd never known, and they were all starting to blur together. All he could see clearly right now was the raw terror on Jim's face on the sim floor, and all he could feel was the cool skin of Jim's wrist with no pulse underneath it. "He's really a Tarsus IV survivor. All that… no wonder he went into shock," Leonard mused aloud.

There was so much more unsaid, but Leonard got the feeling that Pike caught everything that he couldn't put into words. The Captain nodded slowly, as if he was looking at something in the distance that only he could see. "I watch cadets in sims all the time," Pike said calmly. "I see fear, elation, defeat, victory, panic, confusion… but this was something different." He looked away from Leonard, and it was like he couldn't say anything else. Leonard didn't blame him - his own stomach was twisting with every second he spent thinking about Jim and Tarsus and starving colonists and mass graves. Even the freshly-made coffee had lost its allure. He hated this.

There was a soft, bitter laugh from Pike, and Leonard glanced sharply over to him. "Not that Kirk has ever done anything the normal way. You should have seen him in some of the other training sims. The ambush sim was priceless."

Leonard couldn't hold back a sad smile. "So I heard. Picnic, huh?"

Pike nodded, his broad grin over his obvious distress seeming like a bandage poorly wrapped over an open wound, but it stanched the bleeding for now. "Kirk went in by himself with a bag full of apples and potato chips, and strolled up to the 'enemy' so casually that he convinced them that the sim had been delayed and the cadre had sent in snacks to eat while they waited. Apparently, chips and apples crunch loudly enough that the sim players didn't realize they were being surrounded. Kirk even joined them and was halfway through his own apple when the rest of his squad jumped out with phasers drawn. Commander Toland was livid."

"I can imagine," Leonard said, unable to quite keep the admiration out of his voice.

"Yeah." Pike sighed in amusement, but then he shook his head. "Before you hate her, you need to know that Toland has her own past and her own reasons for what she does, but she has the cadets' best interest at heart. She really does. She plays by the book, she tests them hard, and she's damned good at what she does. It's just been a while since she's been out there on a real ship, and there are times when I think she forgets that it's the creativity and uniqueness of each cadet that can make the difference when they're commissioned officers out there in the black."

"Jim's got plenty of that, doesn't he?"

"You bet. You should have seen what he did with - nah, I'll let him tell the stories. I think he likes to."

Leonard took a shuddering breath, trying to get himself to laugh. "You're kinda like Jim, you know that?"

Pike's gaze softened ever so slightly. "McCoy, someday, I'm going to be a small footnote in the book of history. Unless I miss my guess, which would be a rare occurrence, then Jim Kirk is going to have a whole fucking chapter."

From anyone else, that comment would have seemed like nothing but hot air. Instead, Leonard felt certain that fate had whispered that secret directly in Pike's ear, and once stated aloud, it had been cemented in place, immutable, like a signpost fixed at the crossroads. The universe seemed better for it. That kid would go far and burn brightly, as long as he didn't burn out first. Leonard shook his head to himself, chugged down the rest of his coffee, and began fidgeting with his empty cup, watching the last drip of dark liquid circle around the inside surface of the cup as he turned it in his hands. "You knew him before he started at the Academy, didn't you?"

"Only briefly," Pike said, looking oddly wistful. "That is, if you count the day before."

Leonard glanced up sideways, raising an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I guess you can say I was the one who goaded him into joining. Scraped him up off the floor of a bar after a brawl. Dared him to enlist, and he showed up at the shuttle the next morning with the blood still on his shirt and his face, and an attitude like he was ready to take Starfleet by the balls."

Leonard let his shoulders shake in a silent chuckle, and he put down his cup. Faintly, his fingers itched for the shape of his pocket flask - not so much for a drink, although he really wanted one at the moment, but just to hold it. "Yeah, that's Jim, alright. I was there. Met him on the shuttlecraft. He was such a mess… not that I looked much better." He pressed his lips together for a moment, thinking. "That's how you became his Academic Advisor, isn't it?"

"That surprised you, did it?"

Leonard shrugged awkwardly. "It's the fucking theme of the day."

"I was pretty surprised myself, to be honest. What were the odds?" There was something in the quality of Pike's voice that sounded almost reverent, but Leonard was sure he was imagining it. Pike leaned back in his seat and interlaced his fingers on his lap. His eyes focused on some point beyond the wall over Leonard's shoulder. "I stopped by the bar to track down a bunch of my new recruits who had missed curfew, and walked right in to find them turning Kirk into a punching bag. Figured he was just some local idiot townie, but because my cadets had messed with him, I needed his name to write up the report. I looked up his record and realized who he was. Shocked the hell out of me."

Leonard frowned. Who he was? What? He's just Jim.

Pike just continued, apparently caught up in his memory, not noticing Leonard's blatant confusion. "I couldn't believe that he'd been there all along, doing so little with his life, because if he can get himself right, he could be one of the best. He's got all the aptitude and ability his father had, if not more, and that's saying a lot. I studied his father's career and the incident with the Kelvin."

Leonard's gut was starting to feel like the butt end of a macramé competition with one twist and knot after another. "The Kelvin?" he asked, feeling really stupid.

It was Pike's turn to look surprised. "I know you're a doctor, and that Starfleet wasn't your first choice of careers, but I'd figured you knew about -"

"I know about the Kelvin, Sir," Leonard said quickly - too quickly. "The whole damned planet knows. And about Captain George… fuck. George Kirk. God damn… dammit, Jim."

Pike's eyes widened, and he set his coffee aside, not once letting Leonard out of his stare of disbelief. "You didn't know."

"He doesn't exactly talk about his family life," Leonard muttered, feeling humbled in a way that he didn't know he could feel. "Talks about everything else as long as it's absolutely inconsequential. Never shuts up, actually. But he never mentioned, not once… never said a goddamned thing… and I never put it together. I'm a fucking idiot."

"I wouldn't say that, Doctor. You -"

"Wouldn't you?" Leonard cut him off. "My best… okay, so he's my best friend. My best goddamned friend, and I didn't even know who the hell he is!"

"And maybe that's why you're the best goddamned friend he could have," Pike said flatly. "To you, he's Jim, and from where I'm sitting, I can't think of any identifier that he needs more. You two are going to go places together. And don't ever let me hear you call yourself an idiot again. Your record shows that you're one of the most brilliant doctors that Starfleet Medical has been privileged to have."

"You've read my record?" Leonard asked vaguely, still feeling a bit stunned - reeling, actually.

"Of course." Pike gave him another examining look, and Leonard got the sense that those piercing grey eyes in his skull could read a person more thoroughly than any tricorder. "Our new flagship, the Enterprise, will be ready to leave dry dock in about three years, and she's going to be mine. I want the best and the brightest on my staff, so I scout early. You can't blame me."

Leonard found himself nodding slowly in understanding. "The best and the brightest, huh? And Jim's on that list, isn't he?"

"If he keeps himself out of trouble, yeah, he is," Pike said, a hint of fondness creeping into his voice - a fondness that Leonard had noticed earlier that day.

"You care about him, don't you?" Leonard asked before he could stop himself.

Pike surveyed him carefully, as if trying to decipher Leonard's soul. "Somebody has to. I'm just glad there's more than one of us." He ducked his head and spoke in an undertone. "I never told you any of that."

Leonard gave him a meaningful nod. "Neither did I."

Pike seemed to get the message. This whole conversation never happened. With that, Pike leaned forward with a well-telegraphed groan and hauled himself to his feet. "I need to get home. I've got a stack of thesis projects to start reviewing for the semester."

Leonard stood, too, feeling awkward. "I… I need to go find Jim. I just don't know where to start."

"You'll find him," Pike said softly, a knowing look on his face. "With a friend like you, I think the kid might just have a chance. I'm glad he's got you."

With that, Pike clapped him on the shoulder and walked out of the doctors' lounge without looking back. Absently, Leonard rubbed his shoulder, noticing blankly that the spot Pike had slapped was the same spot where Jim had whacked him that morning. However, all he could really think was that although Pike might have been right about everything else, his parting words had been so painfully wrong. Jim didn't have him, because Jim had left the infirmary, and Leonard had just let him go, hadn't followed him, and hadn't checked on him. Now, Jim was somewhere out there, alone in his dorm room, on campus, in the city, in the surrounding hills - who knows - getting drunk, getting hurt, passing out, or…

Leonard swallowed thickly, unable to squash yet another fact about Tarsus IV that had jumped, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind - the astronomical suicide rate of the survivors.

Shuddering and shaking, he looked down at the cup of coffee that Pike had left on the table, and suddenly it felt like such a goddamned crime to waste coffee, or any sort of food or drink, when people had died over food shortages. Being at the I don't give a shit point, Leonard grabbed Pike's coffee and tossed it back.

It was lukewarm, but at least it was real.

.&.

(To Be Continued…)