Hello all! Thanks again for the wonderful reviews and keep them coming. I learn so much from you all, and they make me want to keep writing! This next chapter requires a little bit of explanation. It's another oneshot on the diplomatic run, but it originated a little differently from my other stories. I was in need of some inspiration and began searching for prompts of livejournal (for the first time, but really I enjoyed the site and have been exploring it more thoroughly lately). I found this prompt unclaimed in a Tarsus fic community and inspiration hit: The remains of James T. Kirk were found next to those of Governor Kodos... or so they thought. It was unclaimed (which is why I decided to write on it), and I'm entering no contests, I was just searching for a little...oomph! Anyway, hope you enjoy.

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Characters: McCoy (POV), Spock (POV), Kirk (POV)

Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Inspired by the prompt: The remains of James T. Kirk were found next to those of Governor Kodos. Or, so they thought.

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McCoy frowned over at the couch in the Rec Room on Deck Six. Jim was passed out there, tired after a long week of negotiations between two warring planets. He had managed to drag his nearly falling over Captain back to the ship when a cease fire had finally been reached and things seemed to be on the verge of settling down at last. He had grabbed his guitar, and had forced Jim and Spock into the rec room, locking it fast so they couldn't get out. "We are going to rest." he had growled at his overly stubborn commanding officers, and they had acquiesced, Spock retrieving a PADD to do some 'light' reading, and Kirk settling down with some brandy, talking to McCoy while McCoy played idly at his guitar.

Jim stirred fitfully, his hands twitching feebly in his dream, and McCoy immediately resumed playing, coaxing gentle melodies out of his Sally. He glanced over at Spock, who had looked up from his reading to stare at Jim, concern sifting deep in the passive expression. McCoy began to hum along with the guitar and smiled, satisfied as Jim's breathing seemed to even and the unconscious man seemed to relax a little bit.

"Surprisingly effective, Doctor." Spock spoke quietly. McCoy rolled his eyes and continued his playing, sinking deep into the melody.

A whimper from the couch startled McCoy a few minutes later, and he glanced up from the guitar, immediately refocused. Jim was moaning, turning his head back and forth as his body tightened, his legs curling into the thin chest.

"No…" he moaned, sounding frighteningly small and pathetic. "No…I'm not…No…"

McCoy put down the guitar and stepped quickly to his friend's side, Spock just behind him. He pushed the unruly hair off the young Captain's forehead, carding his fingers through it soothingly. "It's ok, Jim." he murmured gently, trying to sooth his friend out of the nightmare.

Jim began thrashing, nearly knocking McCoy off the couch, and suddenly McCoy was truly frightened. He had never seen Jim like this. In all their years at the academy Jim had never…

His thoughts screeched to a halt as he tried to hold his friend down. He suddenly remembered the Stardate, and knew…it was that time of year. The time of year where Jim was always off duty, and drunk, or requesting sleeping pills from McCoy. He had never given a reason, and the dark look McCoy had received when he had asked had put him off questioning his friend any further.

He shook Jim, the cries from his friend tearing at his heart. "Wake up, damnit, Jim! Wake up!" he shouted.

Jim's back arched as a painful scream tore from his throat. "Doctor!" Spock shouted from behind him.

McCoy didn't bother to turn. "Damnit Spock…help me here or go get me Nurse Chapel and…"

"Doctor, move!" Spock said, urgently, and McCoy moved, sliding back a little as Spock moved to stand by Jim's head. The long fingered Vulcan hand reached down, pressing into Jim's face carefully around the right eye.

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Blackness. Darkness. The smell of smoke hung in the heavy air that seemed to press down on him and choke his lungs.

Spock fought to keep a grip on himself. He knew he was experiencing Jim's nightmare.

He struggled to breathe, but the air was so thick, so heavy, he wasn't getting enough, his entire body ached, from a dull ache in his stomach to a flaring pain in his head and in his ribs. He struggled to move…he had to get out, but he could not.

He heard the sound of a door banging open and the running footsteps of several pairs of feet.

"God…" a voice said, somewhere above him.

"Search the mansion. Find Kodos."

"Sir? I think this his him."

"Are you sure?"

"He has the clothes, and the patch on his shirt."

There was a shuffling sound, and Spock could feel the presences of several someones around him. He struggled to inhale again, fighting to let them know he was there, he was alive, he could hear them.

Someone touched him. It was a gentle touch, the hand resting lightly on his neck, feeling for a pulse.

"Damn."

"He's dead?"

"Yeah." A hand ghosted over his forehead, pushing his hair out of his face. "So young."

"Put him with the others."

They thought he was dead. Oh god. Sheer panic overtook him as he struggled to move again, to shout, or something. I'm not dead! I AM NOT DEAD!

Spock's thoughts swirled and he struggled to find Jim in all of this, to latch on to his conciousness and pull him out of the dream.

"Captain!" he shouted, struggling away from the nightmare, from the sheer panic.

The emotion suddenly faded into the background, as Jim's voice, tentative, called. "Spock?"

"I am here, Captain. You were experiencing a night terror. The Doctor and I were unable to rouse you by conventional means."

"You…you...a mind meld?"

"Forgive me, Captain. I felt the action was necessary. The physical manifestations of your dream were most disturbing."

Spock felt a slow calm, tinged with shame flood him.

"Perhaps we should return to conciousness, Captain? Dr. McCoy will become most displeased with us."

He felt Jim's agreement, and together they returned to the conscious world.

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Jim woke blearily, to McCoy's worried face staring down at him as Spock's hand retracted quickly form his line of sight. He blinked and moaned.

"Jim?" Bones asked, the worry darkening his hazel eyes.

"I'm ok, Bones." He rasped, surprised at how raw his throat felt. He must have been screaming. He pushed himself up slowly, and gratefully accepted a cup of water from Bones, trying to breathe easily. In and out, In and out.

"What was that Jim?" Bones asked as Jim met the doctor's worried gaze again. He was silent for a moment, considering. He had never told Bones about Tarsus, he had managed to avoid these little displays. Normally this time of year, the days that marked the worst of his experiences, he managed to drink or drug himself into a dreamless sleep, and before he had managed to avoid the good doctor's questions. In all the craziness of negotiations he had forgotten. Trust his fucked up psyche to catch up with him this time.

"Captain? I too, am curious as to the meaning of your dream." Spock spoke, cool and calm as ever from his seat to Jim's right,.

Jim sucked in a deep breath and met Bones' eyes again. "You have heard of Tarsus IV?"

"Yes." Bones said, tersely, and Jim could tell from the look in his friend's eye that he was jumping to the inevitable conclusion before Jim explained.

"I was there." He said, softly. His gaze roved to Spock, and the pain in the Vulcan's dark eyes shook him a little. He tore his gaze away, back to Bones. There was pain in his eyes also, but Jim could see the Doctor's mask sliding on, the impassivity and gentle patience that helped him keep going. "They found me in the Governor's mansion, next to his remains. They thought I was dead too, until a Nurse examined me carefully enough to discover otherwise." He stopped, shuddering, staring at his lap. He couldn't go on.

"Jim." He heard Bones say, a gruff tinge to his voice. The Doctor was gone, his best friend was back. "Let's get you back to your quarters. One of my little red pills should help you rest tonight."

Jim nodded, and allowed himself to be helped up by Bones. He was handed over to Spock, and though he hated having to be half-carried and helped along, he knew he couldn't have done it alone. Spock was his crutch as Bones walked next to him, his guitar case grasped firmly in hand.

Later, he would barely remember being laid down gently in his bed, tucked in by his Vulcan First Officer (really? Spock?), after swallowing a red pill, as the gentle melodies of an acoustic guitar accompanied by Bones' soft voice sang him to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.