Jim walked into the first bar he found, about forty minutes away from the Academy. It was dingy and quiet and honestly looked where criminals went to forget the fact that they were wanted dead for a few hours. It wouldn't have been his first pick normally, but at this point in time he didn't care. He wanted about a fifth of vodka to drown out Maggie Jay's accusations, a gallon of rum to get Bones' hurt look out of his mind, and an ocean of whisky just to forget his own name and all the shit that came with it.

He didn't make eye contact with any of the other patrons as he shoved his way through the old-fashioned metal hinged door. He just moved up to the bar, calling for six shots of vodka for starters. The bartender, a surly looking woman with untamed masses of black frizz, set them up without ever speaking a word to him. He appreciated that right now. The total anonymity and disregard for anyone else that permeated the bar was practically a god-send at this moment.

He couldn't believe Maggie! Of all the things she could have said he thought that may have been the worst. He wasn't trying to make up for anything his mother may or may not have done. He was trying to learn from her example or lack thereof, but that didn't mean he was trying to make up for her shortcomings. He was sure a lot of people thought that, but he was just trying to do what was right for everyone. He was trying to make it easier for him, Joanna, and for Bones.

The fact that Jim was steering clear of Bones didn't mean he was trying to keep from making his mother's mistake of marrying any guy who smiled at her. He wasn't like that. He was just trying to make this work the best way he could. It may not make him full of sunshine in the end, but it would make it bearable. What was wrong with wanting that?

Then again another part of him asked what was wrong with giving it a shot? He wasn't clairvoyant he knew that. He couldn't see the future. He was looking for the worst outcome and planning for it accordingly. Some part of him wondered if he tried, if it wouldn't pay off. It wasn't the first time he had thought about that, not even close. It was just seventy-five percent of the time he ruled that it wasn't worth the risk.

He took a shot to drown the thought, then another just for good measure.

He wasn't here to think. He was here to disband the ability to think. Jim slumped a little in his seat, the alcohol already working to loosen the tension of his headache and the coiled muscles in his back. His face was still tight with a frown, but he figured it just helped him blend in. This place didn't exactly scream 'smile!'

He reached for another shot, aware enough of his surroundings to realize a few people had begun moving around. He figured they were getting ready to leave, probably to drink in solitude instead of…in solitude while in public. That didn't make sense, and the fact that he knew that meant he should take that shot quickly.

When he had the shot glass back on the counter and had his hand reaching for the fourth, he felt someone enter his personal zone. The muscles that had released seized again, but the headache still stayed below his level of tolerance, thankfully. He didn't bother to turn around. He didn't know what this person wanted, but he wasn't going to strike up conversation. He wanted to be left alone.

As he took a sip of his fourth shot, a heavy hand settled on his shoulder in what was decidedly not a friendly manner. He felt his hackles rising at the offending appendage, but he made the very strong effort to ignore it. He didn't need a fight. He didn't feel like he had the energy for it. He tried to shrug it off of him, but the person behind him spoke with a sneer clear in his voice.

"What are you doing here?" the man behind him asked.

"Leave me alone, man," Jim demanded without turning around. He stared into the clear liquid in the dirty shot glass, as if that would somehow get the stranger to go away, and maybe better yet, solve the rest of his damn problems. It was unlikely, but it felt better than letting himself get riled up.

The barstool next to him was occupied now, and it hadn't been a second ago. A woman about Maggie Jay's age sat there, long, black hair braided over her shoulder and her green tank-top proclaiming 'Earth.' She looked at him with near-colorless blue eyes that were settled into a nasty glare that morphed her entire face into an ugly visage. "What?" she asked coldly. "You too good to talk to us? You, in your snazzy red suit, you only talk to other alien loving assholes?"

"I'm just trying to drink." He brought the rest of his fourth drink to his lips but the woman slapped it out of his hands. It flew over the bar, where the surly bartender had already disappeared from, and shattered against the floor. That did not help the situation at all. Jim literally took a deep breath to reel in the reaction to lash out at the two of them.

Her glare really didn't help her features, which would be pretty, Jim noticed, and the satisfied smirk that came across her full lips clashed terribly. "Why don't you go drink with your other alien scum? You'd be more welcome there."

"Seriously?" He snorted derisively. "Shit." It figured he would stumble across two xenophobes in his Starfleet cadet reds. It figured that he would stumble across them at all. Really? Did Karma just staple a 'kick me' sign to his back? He hadn't even thought about what he was wearing when he went out. He hadn't changed after he picked up Joanna, or when he graded. Honestly, he hadn't thought it would backfire on him. Who would have? He sighed, tiredly. He didn't want to deal with this shit. "Look, I'm just gonna finish my drinks and then I'll leave."

The hand on his shoulder tightened painfully, hauling him around to finally look at the man that had been hovering ominously over his shoulder. It kind of pissed Jim off that he would have been good looking, too, had it not been for the way his face was twisted. He was a little shorter than Jim, light blond hair and brown eyes. Why were such beautiful people trying to ruin his evening? Shouldn't there be a law against that?

"You don't deserve to drink in our bar," the man said, his voice smooth if threatening. "You don't even deserve to breathe our air, you alien hugging piece of shit. You're a traitor to Earth."

Jim rolled his eyes. What the hell? It wasn't like he had anything special planned for his night, anyway. "And I had been of the impression xenophobia went extinct with the turn of the twenty-fourth century," he muttered under his breath reaching for the fifth shot of vodka. He should probably stop, considering he knew this wasn't going to end well, but he had fought worse odds. Hell, only a month ago he had faced down four gorillas on significantly more than four shots.

Bones had Joanna for the weekend, and Jim figured there had to be some free clinic that would patch him up without needing his entire medical history or feeling compelled to alert Starfleet about his act of delinquency. If the man wanted a fight, he'd get one. He had a few qualms with fighting the woman, but in several previous fights the female friend of the man or men fighting usually stayed in the corner and cheered while throwing projectiles just to make it difficult.

"Do you have something you want to say to us?" the woman asked from behind him.

"Yeah, your new wave Nazi-ism is in poor taste," he said with a smug grin to the man. He shoved the other away from him as he stood up, still steady, though his vision wobbled momentarily. The man stumbled back with a glare, but Jim only smirked at him. "I'd love to stay and shoot the shit with you lovely excuses for human beings, but I think I'll take you up on your offer to drink with some of my own kind."

Where the hell the woman had grabbed the bottle from was a mystery to Jim, but he barely caught sight of her with it before the thick brown glass collided with the side of his skull. And very clearly and distinctly, just as the pain kicked in but before the darkness claimed him, he thought: fucking figures.

+ststst+

Waking up in a hospital was not exactly a new experience for Jim. His name and the word 'hospital' used to be synonymous. However, it had been a year and a half since his last visit, and that had only been because one of the hovercars he had been working on in Riverside had practically electrocuted him. Still, no matter how many times he had woken up in a hospital, it never made it any more relaxing.

He slowly opened his eyes, his lids feeling like they were leaded, and took in the pallid room surrounding him, as well as the horrifically loud beeping from the biobed. He felt his brows furrow almost without his consent. He closed his eyes again, trying to get more of his bearings.

First thing's first, what the hell had he done to warrant a trip to the hospital?

Vague memories filtered into his consciousness, his less than stellar conversation with Maggie Jay, running out of his suite, the bar. The thought he remembered two pretty people and the fact that they hadn't liked him for some reason or another. Other than that…

His obvious deduction was that he had been bashed over the head. Lovely.

Second matter of curiosity, how long had he been there?

"About eight hours," a very familiar voice answered him.

His brows furrowed deeper. God was apparently in the room with him. That couldn't be a good thing.

"Not God, Jim, though I do run a close second." He heard confident steps coming toward him, and he managed to open his eyes to see Pike staring down at him with concern written over his face. "You realize you talk to yourself when you're drugged up to the gills?" he asked, a small smile turning the corners of his lips.

Jim started to take a deep breath, but he aborted the actions when his right-side ribs gave a painful twinge. He winced, and took a shorter breath, telling Pike, "I hadn't been aware. Usually there are no creepily hovering men around to comment on the matter."

His voice sounded parched even to his own ears but he didn't care to get a drink. He didn't think he would be staying awake long. He knew whatever drugs had been pumped into him hadn't fully worn off and though he could probably fight it if he wanted to he really didn't want to. His head hurt and his ribs ached. He must have really pissed off the pretty people, which was sad, because he was pretty too. All pretty people should get along naturally.

He moaned in protest to his own thoughts. Yeah, the meds still had a good hold on him.

He tried to readjust himself but his ribs gave very angry protest, and to top it all off his left wrist felt like it had just been stabbed. Pike pushed him down by his shoulder, saying soothingly, "Easy, there, Jim. You shouldn't be moving yet."

The response was automatic, and without thought. "Whatever, dad. I can't sleep on my back."

Pike's smile was soft, if a little indulgent. "Alright, son," he said with more emotion than Jim was coherent to understand. He gently grabbed hold of Jim's right shoulder, helping him onto his left side while keeping him from hurting himself. When Jim was comfortably settled on his side and his hands were well out of the way of being further injured, Pike asked, "Comfy?"

"Mostly," he answered with a sigh. He was falling asleep quickly, or more to the point the drugs were claiming him quickly. Still, he needed to know some things and clear a few more up. He forced his eyes to stay open, even though it was harder than almost anything else he had ever done, excluding going in for his C-section, but he had been knocked out shortly after that, so he barely remembered the anxiety.

He cleared his throat, quietly, calling Pike's attention to him. Bones needed to know that he wouldn't be showing up this afternoon. He needed Pike to tell Bones that something had come up, and he wouldn't be able to make it. He trusted the other man to come up with something plausible, just as long as he didn't tell the doctor he was in the hospital or that he had gone to a bar the night before. "Bones has Joanna…" he started, but the captain cut him off gently.

"No, actually, Jon has Joanna."

With sleep knocking at his door, that sentence made no sense to him. "Wha…? Why?"

"Doctor McCoy is in the medical center now," Pike explained. "There was a complication with your medication, so I ordered him to take over."

That computed, and he felt a rush of nerves take over him, waking him up just a little more. "You did what?" he asked breathlessly. "Why would you…"

"Jim, calm down." Pike was looking at his readings, which were slightly elevated. Jim didn't think it was anything to worry about at the moment. It wasn't like he was going to have a heart attack, not unless Pike confirmed what Jim suspected was not a joke.

He didn't know why it was a bad thing for Bones to know that he had left yesterday night, but it didn't make him feel better, that was for sure. He didn't want Bones to think any less of him for this, to think that he would pawn off his daughter just to go bar-hopping. That was just what he needed. "Bones is here? Why is he here?"

"I told you, Jim. You had a reaction to a medication. I ordered Doctor McCoy to take over." Pike was looking at him worriedly and more than a little confused. It was clear he didn't understand the problem, and Jim wasn't asking him to. He didn't want anyone to understand the problem.

Jim closed his eyes tightly, willing this moment to be a bad dream. He was unsurprised when the drugs came to take him over again. It had been hovering ever since he woke up, and though he still felt the panic, the weightless feeling that assaulted him as he closed his eyes was too good to let go.

The last thing he heard before he fell under again was the door sliding open and the dulcet tones of Bones filling his mind.

+ststst+

Jim woke clearly and with a visible start the second time, reaching for the hand resting on his stomach. He was more than shocked when there was actually a hand to grasp. He was sleeping on his back again, probably having been moved to his original position after he dropped back under the influence of the drugs. And there, resting on his stomach was a hand more familiar to him than his own. He followed the appendage, up the arm to Bones' form.

His chair was drawn close to Jim and he leaned forward in it to rest his free arm and head on the bed. He was asleep, though probably just barely judging by the completely uncomfortable way he was folded. Jim studied him silently for a few moments. His face was turned away from Jim, so only his mussed brown hair was visible to him. His shoulders were tense and his breathing was a little uneven. Jim rubbed his thumb against tanned knuckles, enjoying this moment while he could.

He relaxed as much as he could into the biobed, listening to the irritating beep of the monitors. In this moment it was almost easy to give into the part of him that just said 'cave already!' It was quiet and comfortable, even though Bones was totally unaware of it. It reminded him of New Orleans, although he hadn't been in a hospital and Bones had usually been in bed with him. However, Jim had usually woken before Bones, and he had always held Bones' hand to his body, taking in the creature comfort of having someone wrapped around him.

It was really nice to just have this moment, and it would probably go a long way in his memories. It would probably go a long way in both helping Jim be okay with this 'just friends' sentence he had imposed on himself as well as making it even more difficult.

He really needed out of this crisis. It was really beginning to make his brain hurt. He loved Bones, and he was pretty sure Bones loved him, and they both loved Joanna, but one day Bones wouldn't love Jim, and that would just fuck up the entire dynamic of everything…and why was he thinking like this? That thought had more run-ons than any of the essays he had graded yesterday.

Oh, fuck, the drugs had obviously yet to dissipate.

He just barely refrained from jerking away when Bones closed his fingers securely around Jim's.

"You know," the doctor started groggily, his accent thicker and working even more to drive Jim crazy. "When you said you'd spend more time with me today, I had assumed it would be in my suite, not at a hospital."

He picked his head up off the bed, and his normally tamed hair was sticking up in all sorts of bizarre angles, just like when he had woken in New Orleans. He turned his hazel eyes towards Jim and it was more than apparent that he hadn't received much sleep over the night. Now instead of being reminded of New Orleans, Jim was reminded of the way Bones had been on the shuttle ride, all messed up and barely sane.

Hard to believe that was only a month ago. He felt like he had lived three lifetimes since then.

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind, either, Bones," he said, reaching out to fix the other's hair. He sighed, noting that though his ribs still protested it wasn't as violently as it had been when he had first awoken. That had to be a good sign. "When the hell can I get out of here?"

"Probably another two hours or so," Bones said, leaning back in his seat, taking his hand away from Jim. He rubbed his eye tiredly, proving to Jim it hadn't been a steady night for him. "They broke four of your ribs and completely obliterated your wrist. That alone would have kept you in here for a while. Then to add insult to injury you apparently stumbled across the only illiterate doctor in this entire city. The one damn anesthetic you're allergic to and the dumbass chose that one for you."

Jim hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes trailing over Bones' tired and rumpled form.

A small smile flicked onto his lips when Bones raised a brow. Then a scowl took over his features, not necessarily angry but waspish, definitely. "Y' know you take nearly being killed a whole lot better than most people would."

"I'm still here," Jim said with an aborted shrug. He didn't necessarily want to tell Bones that this was really no where close to a near death experience in his book. It was irritating, he wouldn't deny that. But he was okay and in one piece. He was honestly more perturbed about his healing wrist and tender ribs than the mess up on anesthetic. Lord knew with his list of allergies it was easy to overlook something every once in a while. He gave Bones a small simile of a smile, saying, "Obviously it wasn't that serious, or you are just that good."

"Let's not test the theory," the doctor growled. He shook his head wearily, before pressing it into his hand. Quietly he asked, almost as if he didn't want to really know, "What were you doing out there anyway?"

Jim took a deep breath, feeling his ribs give a throb of protest. He didn't want to bring up Maggie Jay or anything related to that entire conversation, but he didn't want to sound like a jackass either. "Ran out of things to do at the suite. Thought I'd see what San Francisco night life had to offer." He tried cracking a humorous smile. "Apparently I drew the wrong lot last night."

Bones didn't find it that funny. In fact, he looked like he didn't find it that believable either and that made Jim want to fidget. The way Bones just stared at him, stared through his lies like he always did. Jim couldn't even make a retreat. The drugs in his system had worn completely off, yes, but he didn't have any doubt that Bones could subdue him before he even made it out the door. Ribs at less than full capacity had the tendency to slow him down. The fact that Bones was now watching him like a hawk made him well aware that even with healed ribs he wouldn't make it far without a struggle.

Jim cleared his throat, giving Bones a glance before trying to haul himself into a more suitable position. If he was going to be stared at he wanted to at least be in some semblance of an upright position, not on his back. He felt out of sorts enough without having to take this conversation lying down.

He only lifted himself up about a centimeter before Bones was out of his seat, hovering over him and grumping, "Damnit, Jim! Don't move. Your wrist isn't fully healed."

"I'm uncomfortable." He told himself he didn't whine, but he knew he did. He really hated hospitals. He really hated this situation. And he really hated that this was going to head into dangerous territory and soon. He couldn't help it if he droned just a little bit.

"Then let me help. I'm your doctor. That's what I'm supposed to do," Bones said as if talking to Joanna, instead of a twenty-two year old man. In a manner similar to Pike, but with more expertise, he helped Jim maneuver into an upright position. When he was done, he gently picked up Jim's wrist, and reached for his tri-corder. Quickly and efficiently, he examined Jim's wrist. Focusing on the readout, or at the very least, using it as an excuse not to look directly at Jim, he asked, "Why didn't you come back over…if you were bored?"

Bones wasn't buying his excuse, and probably would believe any of Jim's other excuses, he knew that. However, it didn't stop the fact that Jim did not want to bring up Maggie Jay. He didn't really want to talk about anything from last night.

"It was midnight. Thought you'd be asleep."

The doctor cast his hazel eyes up to Jim with a look that clearly said 'that is the best you could come up with?' Jim didn't deny that it needed a bit of work. Bones shook his head, irritated and well within his right to be so. "Well, I wasn't. Hell, at that time Joanna wasn't even sleeping."

He knew that, or he had been pretty sure of it. Their daughter was a night owl in the biggest way, but still he just said, "Oh."

There were a few moments of awkward silence, in which Jim stared avidly at the evil white walls of his room, and Bones gingerly added pressure to his wrist. It stung but he figured one more round under the osteo-generator and he wouldn't even be able to tell it had been broken in the first place.

"What really happened?" Bones demanded, setting Jim's wrist on the biobed. He looked up, his eyes portraying his determination.

He shrugged. "Nothing, really."

The doctor pursed his lips, tearing his eyes away from Jim to look around the room and basically not at him. He looked like he was going to back off, like he always did, but then again, Jim thought, there was only so much a man could take. Bones had apparently reached his limit.

"Damnit, Jim!" he shouted after a moment, a glare taking over his face when he returned his gaze to Jim. He was forced to stop staring at the wall and actually look at Bones, his eyes a little wide. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Stop!" he ordered. "Just…stop. You know exactly what you're doing! You're pushing me away and its confusing the hell out of me. I had thought, when you said you wanted to get used to being around me again before we started anything that you would actually want to be around me. But for the last month you've been so back and forth about everything. You push me away if I ask something about you. You run at the slightest chance of anything even bordering on intimate. Hell, yesterday you left because I looked at you! Now, if you don't want a relationship with me, fine! Just tell me."

His last admission looked like it was a corporeal punch to the gut, and Jim felt like a heel for making Bones think that. He had wanted Bones to forget about him, had been preparing himself for when it happened. When it hadn't, Jim hadn't known what to do. He knew he had been pushing away; he was aware of that. He didn't think it would hurt Bones like this, though. The doctor looked miserable.

Jim swallowed a painful lump that was working its way up his throat.

"It's…" It was now or never. This was it, an ultimatum. Tell Bones he was right and it would all be over. They would carry on the rest of time as just friends and sitting close but never touching, some part always wondering. Tell him he was wrong and they dashed the thought of just friends ever happening. Bones would lose faith in him and move on and Jim would be heartbroken. He had to choose quickly, and he had to choose correctly.

"It's complicated." Déjà vu. "I do, but I don't. I want what we had in New Orleans and I want you, but I'm scared shitless of what will happen. I know I go back and forth, but it's only because I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Bones sighed, looking at him deploringly as if willing him to see reason. "Jim, I've told you. I'm not angry at you. I'm beginning to doubt I ever really was…"

"I know." He took a deep breath, feeling a very physical pain as he forced himself to continue, but it wasn't nearly as painful as the look on Bones' face. That honest, open want that condemned him, unknowingly, for being the biggest jerk in the history of the universe. "I just worry that your feelings are a manifestation of your love for Jo and the want to give her a complete family."

Bones looked like he honestly couldn't believe what assaulted his ears. His face blanked for a moment, like it had on the shuttle, but just as quickly it morphed into sheer incredulity. "Christ, Jim!" he groaned in frustration. "I'm not doing this just because she's mine. You could have found her under a cabbage, and I would show just as much interest."

Jim shook his head. "You don't know that for sure."

"I know what I'm feeling," Bones growled. He leaned over Jim, his hands on either side of Jim's hips. Dropping his head close, his eyes boring into blue, he said in little over a whisper, though that didn't help to detract from the firmness of the statement, "I am falling more and more in love with you as each day passes and you are being an asshole about it."

Jim's eyes widened and his heart thundered in his chest. He hadn't been prepared for this admission. He had expected almost anything else but that confession. The lump was starting back in his throat making it harder to breathe. He opened his mouth, hoping something would come out, something that would help, but in the end it only helped in making him look like a fish, his lips flapping open and shut.

The door slid open, to reveal Uhura. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked upon seeing them.

"No." "Yes."

Jim looked up at Bones; shocked that the doctor had been the one to answer 'no.' Bones met his eye briefly then stepped away. "No, ma'am. This is an ongoing discussion. It'll keep for a while longer." He gave Jim a sad backwards glance, before putting on a small smile for Uhura. "I've gotta go fetch the osteo-generator for his wrist, anyway. Make sure he doesn't do a handstand or something equally as foolhardy."

Then he exited the room, leaving Uhura and Jim staring after him, one confused and the other terrified that he had hammered the last nail into his own coffin. Slowly, Uhura turned to face him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her just yet. He was watching the door avidly. He had never been the one left after one of their discussions. He had always been the one leaving. He knew Bones had only gone to retrieve the generator, but it still felt…

It felt like he was sinking.

"Are you okay, Kirk?" Uhura asked as she came to stand by the bed.

He answered without taking his eyes away from the door, wondering idly if this was how Bones always felt - if Bones would just stare after him and hope he would return instead of scampering off to hide until he could get a better hold on himself.

"I'm fine," he said reflexively, like he had to the nurse who asked about his broken nose and black eye when he was ten, or on the shuttle that took him away from Tarsus IV, or even to Maggie the first month after he found out about Joanna. His eyes didn't leave the door, even knowing Bones was coming back. He had to see Bones do it. He had to see Bones come back.

Two minutes seemed to last an eternity, but that was about how long it took for Bones to grab the generator and return. When he did and saw them both staring at him, a small scowl stole across his face. "I did say I was coming back!"

He didn't quite stomp, though it looked like it took a goodly amount of effort not to, over to Jim's side, excusing himself past Uhura with a polite, "'scuse me, darlin'." Then, laying Jim's hand on the biobed, he ran the machine four times over the rapidly healing bone.

"How'd you find out Jim was here, Uhura?" Bones asked to break the silence that had permeated the room ever since his outburst.

Jim, who had been watching Bones the entire time, though the doctor had yet to actually look at him again, turned to his friend. She had taken a seat in the chair Bones had vacated, and she left her hair down, much in the same style she had it in at Shipyard Bar. She watched the two of them with concern evident in her features, although she quickly masked it when she saw Jim looking.

"My roommate mentioned a cadet had been assaulted last night at a bar in the bad side of town. I checked a few things, followed the story, and was completely unsurprised to see it was Kirk," she gave him that same unimpressed look she had given him at the bar so many weeks ago. He found it hard not to smile cockily at her.

Bones grunted his acknowledgement, before quickly flicking his eyes towards Jim. "Rotate your wrist clockwise and then counterclockwise twice," he ordered quietly.

Whatever smile Jim had was gone at the sullen tone of Bones' voice. He did what he was told, moving his hand this way and that, waving his fingers, and folding his hand down towards his arm as Bones commanded, keeping up a conversation with Uhura as he watched the doctor fervently ignore his gaze. When he was done with Jim's wrist, he did a quick check on the ribs the two xenophobes had broken, and a diagnostic to make sure there were no repercussions from being given the wrong anesthetic.

Then he left again, telling them he was going to fill out Jim's release forms and bring them back in just a few short minutes.

Jim wished he knew what to say to make this all okay again.

+ststst+

A/N: I'm just gonna smile and wave.

(take one step forward…now one step back…one step forward…and now we're cha-chaing)

InnocentGuilt