Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I know I updated the last two chapters pretty quickly. Next update will be around the end of the week. DLB48, I greatly appreciate your wonderful beta assistance!

Nyota perched on the bed, purposefully brushing her hair as she prepared for her morning shift. She had come to savor the quiet ritual of preparing for work together with Spock. However, on this particular morning, concern for Jim overshadowed the contentment she usually felt. The palpable tension between the captain and Dr. McCoy the previous evening unsettled her. She had been observing the growing chasm between the two friends for several days and now felt compelled to speak up and suggest her idea to Spock.

"I think you need to make more of an effort, Spock."

"Nyota, I believe you indicated my presence was pleasing to you."

"I can't lie. I do love our time together even more now." Nyota set down her hairbrush. She smiled at Spock sitting next to her. Thinking fondly about their indulgence in one another, she tucked her legs underneath her on the bed and then rested her chin on his shoulder. He turned his head towards her, allowing her to press her lips on his cheek with more care than usual for a hurried morning. "And I know you do."

"I cannot lie, either." He added nothing to the statement. She preened, seeing straight through her Vulcan mate's unflappable expression to his love for her.

"However," she added an edge to her voice, "I believe your relationship with your commanding officer should not suffer for my sake. He may need you even more after that horrendous goading."

"Nyota," Spock reprimanded.

Anger laced her voice as she retorted. "I simply cannot trust anyone who posits such shocking accusations as that being did. Prince Lequa completely ignored the fact that Kirk died for his crew, that he thwarted numerous debacles. I believe he deliberately provoked the captain, but why?"

"I do not know the answer to the question, Nyota. I surmise that there is more going on here than we know. Nonetheless, the captain handled himself well," Spock commented. Nyota heard a touch of pride in his voice.

"Did he impress you?"

He'd impressed Nyota. In fact, she could not name one time that her confidence in Kirk had ever waned. He was especially grounded in the way he captained, which took her by surprise. What was unsettling, however, was the fact that she and Spock both witness he lacked the extraordinary passion that they so admired in him, the same enthusiasm they at one time had scorned.

"Indeed. Nyota, I saw in Jim a sense of caution as I visited him in his quarters. He was hesitant in accepting an act of friendship. It...gives me cause to worry."

"Do you think Kirk has suffered another so called tragedy?"

"My calculations are that yes, he has."

Her stomach swirled with dread at Spock's revelation. Spock was rarely wrong when it came to James Tiberious Kirk. He had just admitted that logic tells him that Jim has experienced more hardship than all he had confessed to them. How much could one man take? Shortly after meeting the captain she determined that his childhood had been difficult and cruel, quite possibly worse than one her wildest imagination could conjur. She could see no other reason why someone with his intelligence and conviction would turn to alcohol, women, and bar brawls as often as he did.

"I see that you are troubled, Nyota. Do not be. We will help our friend and captain." Spock delicately leaned his forehead against hers. She breathed deeply, finding serenity in his tender expression of love and comfort within a brief moment.

She kissed him before pulling away and slipping on her boots. Spock's shift began shortly and they both needed to prepare for the return to Re'an V. Feeling content after Spock's embrace she lazily turned her attention to the day ahead. Next she and Spock would head to the mess hall for a quick breakfast. The command team often met up there before beginning their shift together. The companionship of this time had decreased over the past few weeks largely because of the tension between Kirk and McCoy. Kirk would be on alpha shift today, meaning that he should also be eating around now. She fervently hoped that McCoy would not stand the captain up for their breakfast together yet again. It was a rather disconcerting, missing piece to the puzzle.

"What will you do?"

"I cannot press him. I will do as you suggest, Nyota."

It would be good for them both to stretch their wings again. It wasn't that they had become strangers to their friends, only a little less social.

"Nyota..."

"Yes, Spock." She already stood by the door waiting for him. Spock took his time to rise off the bed. Although he'd helped her a moment ago, now he appeared troubled, pensive and unwilling to leave their quarters.

"In what shall I suggest we engage?

"The same things you did before." Nyota cocked her head, curious that Spock's hesitancy seemed to be based upon this question. "Nothing has changed for the two of you, not really, has it?"

"I am unclear."

"I see." That was not what she wanted to hear. "What was different?"

"He did not exude the confidence I am accustomed to seeing from him."

Kirk? Not confident? The idea was absurd. You couldn't have one without the other. Nyota didn't have a reply. It took her aback. It was all she ever saw from Kirk, even if he was faced with defacing statements left and right. Yesterday, even after the tension between captain and doctor. His shoulders had slumped ever so slightly for a few minutes but then there was nothing about Kirk's demeanor on the bridge that revealed anything but confidence. The virtue came hand in hand with his control, didn't it? Nyota clearly observed this the day before.

"The captain's reaction to the prince's statement indicates that he has indeed endured more in his past than he has revealed to us. It appears that the past is currently quite troubling to him. I am further unaware of whether the captain has confided in Dr. McCoy. Whether he has or not, he expected the doctor's support. That is why I have every reason to believe I have done some part to create this problem. If I had been doing my job as First Officer-"

"You have been doing your job, Spock," she interrupted without a second thought. Spock's earnestness to be the best First Officer for Captain James T. Kirk had not suffered because of their union. He was there for Jim unfailingly during their shifts and whenever else a need for the ship arose. There had to be something else. "You can't blame yourself. And now that you have a better idea of how to help the captain, I know you will do all you can to fix the problem."

Spock looked softly at her, his expression notably humble. "Nyota, perhaps I have not been doing my job as friend."

McCoy trudged into sickbay for his alpha shift, ignoring the pointed look Christine gave him concerning his attire and his hair. It was a distinct just got out of bed fashion statement that was entirely true and he felt no shame.

"That's...interesting. Since when do you come to sickbay looking like that?"

"Figured I'd shower here," he mumbled, self-consciously running a hand through his rumpled hair and brushing imaginary lint off of his wrinkled uniform. Talk about sleepless nights. McCoy knew without a shadow of a doubt that Jim only slept maybe three, maybe four hours at best but last night, McCoy himself had slept for only two full hours. He didn't know how Jim managed to keep up with his full schedule.

Guilt ate at McCoy. He and Jim had never formally agreed to meet for breakfast and coffee, but he knew that the younger man had come to depend on it. Normally, McCoy could think of nowhere else he'd rather be. Skipping it this morning was unreasonable and downright rude of him. He wasn't even sure why he skipped. He hated treating Jim like a stranger, hated contributing to the hurt and animosity and to the distance between them. He genuinely wanted to talk with Jim, even more so after the disastrous conversation at the banquet, but Jim defensively shut down every attempt at conversation.

The tension was so high between them that he could scarcely function as the man's doctor. Something had to give - and soon. Their efforts at avoidance were becoming visible to the crew and interfering with ship's functions. They couldn't go about avoiding each other like this, but he'd taken the hint first from Jim himself that he needed space. Perhaps McCoy was overcompensating, but now...he wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to do.

McCoy was worried. Every bone in his body screamed that Jim was heading towards a breakdown the likes the universe had never seen. If he couldn't figure out how to patch together their fragmented friendship, he might have to stand on the sidelines watch Jim self-destruct, his healer's hands tied behind his back and eyes blindfolded, helpless to save his best friend.

The warning signs were subtle, some of them minuscule, but they were there. Little things been piling up like a well-stocked armory for weeks. Jim never slept well and had often woken in a panic during their Academy days. It was obvious to McCoy that Jim wasn't sleeping like he should. McCoy suspected the nightmares had returned, but had no medical basis for questioning him until it affected his command. Jim's eating habits surely had degraded as well, but the weight loss was only minimal. Then there was the slightly bruised appearance under his eyes, accompanied by a faint, wild look in those same eyes early in the morning, and the other times he caught Jim blanking out. These were clear signs his best friend was distressed, haunted by a past that was trying harder than ever to sink its fingers into Jim's sanity.

McCoy saw the signs clearly, but he was unsure whether Jim was even aware of them himself. If he was aware, he probably thought he was coping, but it was far from the truth. McCoy feared Jim's trust in him had also plummeted. McCoy had once prided himself on being the stabilizing factor in Jim's life, but now the captain barely spoke to him, never confided in him that the past was creeping up to bite him in the ass. Jim no longer joked with him. He...he just...he wasn't Jim.

"Dr. McCoy?"

McCoy set down his PADD on his desk in his private office and turned around to face his most inquisitive, too-curious-for-her-own-good nurse. "Christine. Yes."

"It's Friday."

"Yes," McCoy rubbed his eyes but was unable to rid them of the grittiness of sleep.

"You're usually with the captain for break-"

"He's busy," McCoy grunted and picked up his PADD again. His mood soured even more upon seeing a message from his ex-wife Jocelyn. He knew exactly what she was bothering him with again and coupled with the situation with Jim, it was almost too much to take. He was tempted to pull out his whiskey and risk the consequences if the green-blooded hobgoblin caught him. "I'll see him later when he comes to receive his final inoculation for the Re'an virus this morning."

McCoy sighed. The virus was a tricky one, the danger lasting well beyond their final day on Re'an V. Of course, Jim just had to be more susceptible than the rest of the crew. Even the augment blood transfusion could not overcome the damage Tarsus did to his immune system.

"And you didn't seem to care that Uhura had to cancel last night." Christine frowned, continuing as if she'd not heard him at all. "Leonard, I've been meaning to ask you. Why did you say you wanted to ask Carol out the other day? You had to know Jim was thinking about it. I even knew that. He's been so different around women these past few months, it was hard to miss that longing in his eyes. Nyota and I call those eyes his puppy dog eyes."

"Why does it even matter?" McCoy argued. Yeah, egging Jim on like that hadn't been the best of ideas. He'd rubbed salt on a wound that would never, ever heal and at the worst possible time, too. In his defense, it had seemed like a good idea in the moment. Sensing that Jim was struggling with his demons, he purposely provoked him, hoping to give him a new purpose and direction. Get him thinking. Propel him to act. He had been Jim Kirk's friend for long enough to know that the man responded to challenge and hardship.

Jim was supposed to challenge him for the chance to date Carol. It had only been an attempt to get the man to see that he was ready to venture into a more permanent relationship. It was more obvious to him than anyone else that Jim shied away from serious relationships because he had only experienced broken ones. Unfortunately, McCoy's plan of proclaiming a false interest in Dr. Marcus had backfired and Jim's anger unleashed on McCoy instead. Furious at himself, McCoy turned his own negative emotions outward.

"Puppy dog eyes, Nurse Chapel? Of all the ridiculous things to say about our captain. You might as well call him a golden retriever and give him a leash and a collar."

"Stop avoiding the question, Dr. McCoy." Her eyes widened. "You did it on purpose, didn't you?"

"Now why would I do that?"

"Leonard, I can't believe you." She accused. "You did do it on purpose."

"Why the hell would I?" McCoy scowled, angry about the hole he dug for himself.

"I don't know." Christine huffed. "Maybe to provoke him? It worked. He's provoked, at least it seems like it. The two of you never..."

"Never what?" McCoy growled.

He had no desire to hear her say what he had already admitted to himself. Truth was that Jim had been provoked before that, and it may be why it worked to provoke him so well about a woman. He and Jim had never allowed conflicts to get in the way of their friendship before. That Jim was reacting so violently and pulling away told McCoy that things were worse than he previously thought. Striking Jim when he was down was a recipe for disaster and he, Jim's best friend, had done just that.

Now that the damage was done, McCoy easily saw past Jim's act. Jim's behavior was a desperate front to avoid McCoy's questions and concern. He should have halted Jim right then and there - but he didn't. No doubt, he was the only one to stop this.

McCoy swallowed guiltily at the cruel part he was playing. He fervently hoped that Jim wouldn't make any rash decisions on his own since he now was shutting out McCoy almost completely. Things that had happened to Jim in the years gone past must be surfacing again at warp speed or he wouldn't be trying so hard to escape them. He was doing and using anything to avoid the inevitable. McCoy grieved as he realized that Jim was falling back into old patterns and coping mechanisms.

With a heart dragging along the floor, McCoy left his desk - and nosey Nurse Chapel - to hit the showers.

As bothered as McCoy was that Christine had noticed the burgeoning problem, he could answer Christine's question on his own.

The two of them never talked. The two of them never acted like they wanted to see each other. The two of them were at odds, broken in friendship. And, McCoy, for once in his career, didn't know how to fix things. If anything, he continuously erred as he reacted to almost anything Jim said or did without being able to stop himself.

He, the physician, the one who was supposed to heal, could only rub raw the festering wounds of his best friend.