Poor Jim :( He's got this (admittedly super short) chapter of peace before we make it back to Earth and then there is no hiding for him. I'm still loving your speculations and thoughts. For those of you who wonder if Jim can take any more without breaking, the answer is no, not really. But hey, at least he's got Jo…

"Absolutely nay bloody way." If you'd have asked him a few years ago if he'd ever have had the brass ones to stare down an angry Vulcan, Montgomery Scott would have been unashamed of his answer. Angry Vulcans were bloody terrifying, this one especially.

"Mr Scott-" Spock's jaw was clenched so tight he could have cracked rocks with it.

"I said nay!" Scott said firmly, standing in the entrance of the engine room with his arms crossed over his chest. "Not a bleedin' chance."

"It is imperative we speak to the Captain about the situation at hand." Scott supposed it was. He'd heard, of course, what had happened above deck. It was a small shuttle and they were a loud bunch. By all accounts the shit had hit the fan at warp seven.

Scott had been making his way up top to investigate all the commotion when he'd practically been run off his feet by Jim. He'd had only a second to make his decision, but when Spock rounded the corner in pursuit, Scott threw himself into the doorway.

Apparently he was suicidal, and far too sober.

"Leave the lad alone." Scott implored. "Give him a wee bit o'space."

"We do not have the luxury." To his credit, Spock looked genuinely regretful and as frantic as a Vulcan ever could – it's all in the eyebrows, Scott had learned.

"Look, if the lad is hiding down here from you then it's because he needs to, nay because he wants to."

"Hiding will not help him." Spock said.

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "Aye, maybe no. But have ye ever known Jim Kirk to run from anything?" To things, things that wanted to kill him, and at great speeds. But not away. Not ever. "He needs to be alone, so you'll leave him be."

Spock looked torn between duty and desire. He was showing far more control than he gave himself credit for, especially since he hadn't just moved Scott physically out of his way. He could. Bean pole though he might look, he had three times the strength of the strongest human.

"I am…concerned for his safety." Spock admitted reluctantly.

"I'll keep half an eye on the lad." Scott promised. "Just give him some time. Some peace. He's nae gonna have any of it when we get home."

Eventually Spock nodded. "Please call me if…" he didn't finish. Scott could fill in the blank.

"Aye sir." Scott promised. He felt a flood of sympathy for the dejected Vulcan as he turned and made his way back up top. Jim bloody Kirk was a menace even when he wasn't trying.

But this wasn't the first time he'd stepped between his Captain and the XO. Not by a long shot. Jim often sought solace amid the Enterprise's engines, sometimes even sleeping in the depths of Scott's department.

It didn't take a genius to see that the lad was haunted by some pretty nasty demons and if his therapy involved nacelles, who was Scott to judge?

Following Jim down into the depths of the shuttle, Scott could only imagine how bad the lad must be feeling to actually flee a conversation and hide. Like he'd said to Spock – Jim Kirk didn't run from anything. Except perhaps his past, which, as all things do, had clearly caught up with him in a bad way.

Knowing Jim as he did, it would be bad. It had to be. You didn't have the kind of emotional baggage Jim did from the inconsequential. Scott had been present when Jim's time on Tarsus had been revealed, but he wasn't naive and he wasn't stupid. The paint by numbers account Sam Kirk had given must have been nothing on the reality.

As an adult, there was probably nothing Jim couldn't overcome if he set his mind to it, but when it came to these open wounds, well…Jim was still very much the child they had been inflicted on.

Scott could see it clear as day in Jim's huddled position between the aft engine and the process cooler.

"Jim, lad, you have ta calm down if you dunnae want the doc comin' down here." Scott said, keeping his distance and his voice soft as Jim practically hyperventilated. "Slow breaths now, nice an' steady like."

Jim heard him clearly. Scott could see him struggling to comply and he held his own breath as Jim dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and clenched his fists.

It took him several minutes, but eventually he calmed and slumped against the engine, eyes red against pale cheeks.

"That's better." Scott praised. "Good lad."

"I'm sorry." Jim whispered, voice small and shamed. He made to stand but Scott shook him down.

"Ack, dunnae be daft. You stay right where ye are. It's a nice wee spot." Warm, perhaps not comfortable, but safe. Jim swallowed and nodded, not once meeting Scott's eye. Scott flashed him a smile regardless. "There we go. You take all the time ye like. I'll be over here if ye need me."

He just about heard Jim's softly whispered "Thanks Scotty."

Scott was studying Jim's supposedly secure file. It had already been leaked to the press, so it wasn't like Scott needed to leave well enough alone. Besides, he wasn't looking at all the damning things inside it – though seriously, how the bloody hell did Jim not have any academic training besides three years in a lousy community school and six months with Kodos the Crazy? – instead he was looking for clues as to who had broken it wide open.

Jim's coding was as bugshit crazy as the rest of him and made little sense to anyone who had even a remotely organized mind. Scott didn't exactly keep things in order up there, but there was a system of sorts. His own brand of logic. The security protocol Jim had written was… well you needed to be a whole lot crazier than Scott was to make sense of it.

Still, he'd need to break it himself it he was going to understand how someone else had. Chekov would be on the job as well, and between the two of them they would get there eventually. He just had to not lose his mind in the process, and was lost in the job when he realized that someone had managed to sneak past him.

He'd kept Jim in the corner of his eye, because while he might be willing to defend the lad from his overly zealous crew, he wasn't stupid enough to leave a distraught man completely unsupervised. For the most part, Jim had barely moved. Now though, Joanna stood a few feet away from him, dressed in pyjamas covered with stars and clutching a blanket in one hand.

Jim blinked up at her, concern etched into his face. "Jo?"

"I had a bad dream." Scott could barely make out her quiet voice, but he managed if he strained.

Jim swallowed, "Me too." He held up a hand and the little girl rushed to him, curling up against his chest and tucking her blanket around them both.

Curling his arms around her and resting his cheek on her dark hair, Jim held her as tightly as she held him.

Scott turned his gaze back to the table and jumped a foot in the air when he saw McCoy sat opposite, silently holding out a flask of something that hopefully had a blindingly high alcohol content.

If Jim and the lass needed the purr of an engine to sleep, who could blame them?

And if Scott could see tears rolling down Jim's cheeks before they got lost in Joanna's hair, well, it was none of his damn business, was it?