A/N: Sorry this took so long - I finished it like a week ago but didn't trust my vacation internet connection when I wasn't too exhausted to be on my laptop. And then I just kept forgetting.

Leonard settled back, watching where Jim had disappeared a while ago. He recognized the need to flee, to be isolated from those he cared about; the too-stiff set of his shoulders; the near-forgetting of something important – he just hadn't seen them in years. Separately, they meant Jim just wanted the subject to go away. Together, though… Jim was close to breaking. The hiding was a last-ditch effort to conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. A habit Leonard had been trying to get rid of for six years.

Damn you, Winona. He's gotten through hundreds of similar away missions without being overwhelmed by Tarsus.

Although, all of those away missions were pretty much non-stop action. And Jim was barely conscious for at least half of them… Tarsus would've been suppressed by adrenaline and pain. Or Jim is normally just really good at hiding his internal workings (which he is).

Anyway, it's better to feel, so you can let go. That's what the books say. That's what experience has proved.

But watching it still hurts, damn it.

A shiver distracted him. He set his tricorder down and breathed on his hands, rubbing them together to warm them. This planet was certainly prettier and less snowy than Delta Vega, but they felt like the only differences.

"Shouldn't this rain be hail?" he muttered, half to himself.

Spock answered anyway. "While humans would describe this temperature as 'freezing,' it is, in fact, ten degrees above freezing. So, no, this rain should not be hail."

"Fascinating," Leonard commented drily. Spock cast a sideways glance at him, recognizing the jab for what it was, but otherwise not responding. Damn it, he'd wanted the argument – it would at least distract him from the cold. And Jim. As badly as Leonard wanted to track him down and talk to him, he knew it would be all too easy to get lost, and he wasn't going to throw that burden onto Jim's shoulders – he felt responsible enough as it was. So all he could do was stay put and wait. And it was frustrating.

Some people would say that the hardest part about being a doctor was informing loved ones of a patient's death, right after losing said patient on the table. Others might say it was the long years of school. Still others would say it was the disgusting jobs.

They were all wrong.

The worst part was the waiting. Waiting for a life-saving diagnosis. Waiting for a medicine to take effect. Waiting to see if the patient would wake up. Waiting for the loved ones to come to hear the bad news. Waiting for the suffering to stop when he couldn't make it stop. Waiting for the injured to come flooding into medbay after a firefight or away mission gone wrong. Waiting for the next time Jim got himself hurt. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Because at least when he was talking to the ones left behind, or doing the trivial jobs no one liked, he was doing something. While waiting, however, he was completely helpless. He could only sit and watch – and sometimes, not even that. And it drove him insane. Especially when that patient was Jim Kirk (though he technically wasn't supposed to have a favorite, but hey, he was only human).

More like Jim I-make-everything-as-hard-as-possible Kirk.

"Doctor, may I borrow your communicator, please?"

Leonard jerked out of his thoughts. "What?"

"I believe I have discovered a way to circumvent the interference, and I require a second communicator to test my theory."

Leonard reached for his belt before remembering he'd dumped it on the ground in front of him after Jim gave it back. Instantly suspicious – Spock could've just grabbed it anytime – Leonard dropped it into Spock's outstretched hand, pondering his motives. Vulcan politeness, or the human urge to snap Leonard out of his thoughts? Out of the corner of his eye, he observed Spock adjusting the communicators, noting the slight tremors of his hands, the way he focused a little too much on the task – even Vulcans (or at least half human ones) had their emotional tells, although the hands were probably just from the cold. And Spock was trying pretty hard not to think about something.

"Penny for your thoughts," he tried.

Spock glanced up, angled eyebrows furrowing together. "Why would you trade an obsolete currency for my thought processes?"

Leonard sighed. "Figure of speech, hobgoblin – I wanna know what you're thinking about."

Spock mulled this over for a moment. "Fascinating" was all he said.

"You gonna answer my question?" Leonard pressed.

Spock resolutely kept his eyes on the communicators. "I am thinking of cutting through the interference."

He said it too fast – the speed of his voice was kind of like a substitute for the tone of a human's; fast meant he was Vulcan-panicking, slow meant he was enjoying the moment, etc. He's definitely hiding something. Not that it was surprising, Spock being Vulcan and not exactly on heart-to-heart terms with Leonard. Still, it had to be worth a shot, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his.

"That's not what I meant, Spock, and you know it."

"There are no other thoughts that matter at this moment, Doctor."

Leonard tried not to roll his eyes, but seriously. "Oh, come on, hobgoblin, you gotta work with me."

"You are not working, Doctor."

True. "I'm a doctor, not an engineer. My job is keeping you and Jim healthy, and neither one of you are letting me, so forgive me if I appear to be sitting idly by."

"You are forgiven, Doctor."

You sarcastic little-

"Guys! I found a place."

Jim ducked back into their tiny shelter, his uniform once again plastered to his skin. He smothered a sneeze, and Leonard instantly turned his medical tricorder on him. "Damn it, Jim, one away mission-"

"It's probably just a cold, Bones. Let it go."

"This is an alien planet with alien bacteria, Jim – do I have to remind you of another time you said it was 'just a cold?'"

"No," Jim mumbled, ducking his head sheepishly. He quickly regained his air of command, though, adding, "But still, we're not doing this here. Let's get totally out of the rain before we all start turning blue. Wait, do Vulcans turn blue when they get really cold, or do you guys turn green or something?"

Spock didn't dignify that with a response, instead silently standing and collecting his communicator and phaser. Leonard took his own communicator back – away team protocols and whatnot – and slung his medkit strap over his shoulder, tucking his tricorder inside. Jim straightened up again, wincing as his injured shoulder brushed against a branch. Leonard reached for a hypo of local anesthetic, but Jim stopped him short with a pointed "I'm fine." Then Jim was walking, and Leonard was too focused on not tripping over thick undergrowth to try a sneak attack.

Soon – but not before Leonard's body was protesting the speed, Jim was stumbling tiredly, and Spock was shivering again – they arrived at a random cave in the middle of the forest. The opening was about seven feet tall and four feet wide, and, after traveling through a corridor, the interior widened into a space about twenty-by-twenty. The walls were rough, but the ground relatively smooth, and it was warmer than outside and dry. The cave's exterior had been a dark, shimmering black, but the interior was silver, like the Enterprise's hull, and somehow…

"Why is it lit up in here?"

Not really lit up, per se, but there was enough light to see by, despite this space being at least ten feet inside the cave, the entrance nothing but a dim rectangle.

Spock's tricorder was already out and scanning. "The rock appears to be composed of a reflective material. It is not as powerful as a mirror, but it seems to be reflecting and magnifying the light managing to filter in from outside."

"Cool," Jim commented. As soon as Leonard and Spock were safely over the threshold, he sank down beside the entrance, leaning carefully back against the wall. Leonard wanted to copy the young captain – just flop down and sit there – but he also had a job to do, whether Jim liked it or not.

"You want this thing back, Spock?" he asked, holding out his communicator.

Torn from his examination of the rock, Spock nodded. "Yes, please. Thank you."

Relieved of his communicator, Leonard settled down beside Jim, who sighed in exasperation. "Really, Bones?"

Unfazed, Leonard pulled out his medical tricorder and held it over Jim's shoulder. "Yes, really. You don't seem to realize it, but I'm your doctor and you're injured. Therefore, I am going to do what doctors do. Now, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

"Doesn't matter," Jim retorted, edging away. Leonard lightly poked him just below his shoulder, though, and he froze in place.

"You know it matters if a light touch incapacitates you like that," Leonard said pointedly. "Your shoulder isn't dislocated or sprained, just strained because, as per usual, you got stuck in a situation that requires you to use it after getting it injured. I've got a local anesthetic that'll take away the pain but leave you wide awake, although a nap wouldn't do you any harm."

"Not here, Bones."

At least he didn't reject the painkiller. Which means he's either listening for once, or it's killing him, or he just wants to appease me. Well, I won't complain.

Jim winced as Leonard administered the hypo, even as some tension eased from his muscles. Tucking his arm protectively against his torso, Jim leaned back, angling his body to partially block the entrance.

"Keeping watch?"

Jim's only response was a one-shouldered shrug. Leonard's heart sank at the apathy, realizing Jim's alone time hadn't worked and he was still trying to close off his emotions. Leonard repacked his medkit and settled down beside Jim, far enough away to give him space, close enough for silent comfort; Jim neither rejected nor accepted the motion.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Keep your penny."

"Jim…"

"Why don't you go bug Spock?"

Spock glanced up, realized they weren't really talking about him, and resumed his work.

"Because you've had a rougher week than he has."

Jim snorted. "Really? I hadn't noticed. He'd be thrilled if his mom came back. It wouldn't be a reminder of every bad memory he's got."

"On the contrary, it would," Spoke broke in quietly. Leonard and Jim turned surprise gazes on him, but he remained singly focused on the communicators. "Her return would be a reminder of every childhood trial, but I remember them regardless, so it is pointless to desire she not be here to remind me."

Jim looked down, suddenly finding a loose rock positively fascinating. If Spock hadn't just bared a tiny piece of his heart (and if he were fully human), they probably would've shared a semi-triumphant glance at the slight change in attitude – Spock's words had definitely broken through his walls.

"He's right," Leonard murmured. "I realize you two have entirely different relationships with your respective mothers, but the principle is the same."

"I know he is, damn it," Jim snapped. "I just- I was thirteen when I vowed never to care about her again, and I survived sixteen years without her, and now here she comes, and suddenly I'm thirteen again and damn it, I don't want to be thirteen, I can't be thirteen, and I- I don't know anymore, and I can't do this again!"

His voice rising to a furious yell and then fading to a choked sob, Jim lurched to his feet and staggered outside. Spock set the communicators down and stood, but remained in spot, tethered by Vulcan inability to face powerful emotions. Leonard scrambled to his feet and followed Jim, calling over his shoulder "Just work on the communicators, all right? I've got this for now."

Jim leaned his forehead against the cave's exterior, his arms on either side of his head, hiding it. Even through the sheet of steadily-falling rain, Leonard could see him shaking, and it more than likely wasn't from cold. Jim was falling apart, finally, truly breaking, and God it hurt to watch the transition from strong young man to broken little boy, no matter how much Leonard reminded himself that Jim had to hit rock bottom before true healing could begin.

"Eleven," Jim rasped.

"What?"

"Scale. Eleven. Bones… It hurts, Bones. Why don't you have a hypo for this?"

Leonard stepped closer, lightly resting a hand on Jim's elbow. "I wish I did, Jim, but this kind of wound is only healed by time; lots and lots of time. But you know what helps?"

"What?" Jim mumbled.

Leonard glanced back at the cave entrance. "Your family."

"What family?" Jim rasped.

"Well, now that she's here, your mother. Uhura's like your big sister, I guess. Carol's your girlfriend. Pike's basically your dad. And, you know, Spock and me are kinda your big brothers-"

Suddenly, Jim was pressing against him, one hand clutching his shirt, the other arm wrapped tightly around Leonard's torso. After overcoming the initial moment of surprise, Leonard hugged him close, tucking Jim's head underneath his chin.

"It'll be ok, little bro," he murmured, giving Jim a reassuring pat on the back. He felt Jim nod against his chest. "Let's go inside the random cave in the middle of the woods, ok?"

Jim gave a tiny hiccup of laughter. "I-it's not random. There's a r-rock structure-"

"Shh. I'm a doctor, not a geologist."

Slowly, Leonard guided Jim back inside, neither one relaxing their grip. "Sit down right here," Leonard murmured, settling Jim in a spot near enough to Spock that the Vulcan's presence would be reassuring, but far enough away to avoid unnecessary awkwardness. Jim gradually cried himself out, and the natural next step would be a good long sleep, but naturally the captain (and, now that Leonard thought about, the Tarsus IV survivor) in Jim wouldn't let that happen.

"Bones-" he tried to protest.

"Nope," Leonard cut him off. "This ain't Tarsus, Jim, and you don't have to be a captain 24/7 with us. Spock and I are big boys and can take care of ourselves for at least a couple hours. You need a nap."

Jim tried to glare, but a yawn ruined it.

"…Fine. Two hours, no more, and wake me up if anything happens. Got it?"

"Of course, I'll wake you up if Spock so much as blinks. Now take a nap."

"Bones…"

"Jim."

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Jim curled up and, with his head pillowed on Leonard's leg, almost instantly fell asleep. Resting a hand on Jim's arm, Leonard turned his attention to the entrance to keep watch. A couple yards away, Spock continued tinkering with the communicators, glancing up at Jim or the entrance now and again.

And so the waiting began again. Waiting for rescue.

A/N: Yes, I did put Let It Go in a Star Trek fanfic.