Author's Note: As of 2/10/15, I have updated this chapter with another scene, the first one of the chapter! Hope you enjoy it...

So, here's that update I promised. Also, I'm going to be honest. Out of any story I've ever posted, this one has taken me the longest to write and it's been the hardest to not receive feedback for certain chapters. Something that I think would garner a review, is not, and it is disappointing. Seriously, guys, I thrive on feedback. THRIVE and without it, I die. Ask my beta reader, who has put up with hearing my disappointment this time around. Maybe it's the time in my life when I realize I am putting a great deal of time, energy, and effort into this. I have a family and I struggle with both mental and physical things that actually make writing difficult. And when I don't see a return, it's a little bit of a let down. But I can't stop writing, because that is part of who I am. Creating. That said, I appreciate so much those who are leaving reviews - and faving and following. I realize on this site you must love writing to continue, and I do love writing. I also am deeply thankful for the feedback I have gotten. I have to step back and realize I HAVE received a lot of feedback, considering. Still, I guess I need to wrap my head around the fact that this is what it is. I can't write better or differently than I do. And if this story has impacted someone in a positive way, than that's the best feedback I could ever get. Thank you for listening, if you've gotten this far. And also, I do hope you enjoy what's next, as Jim works things out. I know I promised some action in this story and there has been some and there is still more to come. :) Thank you.

Jim awakened to a smooth, clean scent that took precedent over any other thought he may have had first. He breathed deeply, using the quiet moment to deduce that the scent was familiar. Like...home. He could not place why it struck him as something so personal. He also didn't understand why it made him think of 'home' when the only 'home' he remembered was Re'an V. He was certain they did not have this. Water splashed somewhere beside him, enticing him to move his hand and discover its location and dip his fingers into it.

But then Jim remembered his failure and kept his arm stiffly by his side. He'd fallen asleep before Spock had arrived to help him with his therapy.

"You're awake."

Jim swallowed nervously. "Bones," he whispered. "Spock...did he...?"

"Did he come and find you were asleep?" Hearing the light-heartedness in the doctor's voice, Jim allowed himself to relax and wait for the explanation. "Sure did. Didn't mind a bit, though, so don't worry. He'll come again soon, after you take a bath and eat."

Jim blinked and lifted his hand, working to find his face. He stopped when his fingers ran over what he assumed to be stubble along his jaw. "A bath?"

"Yep. With water and everything, and I just made sure it's the right temperature." Bones gave a short laugh. "Seeing that you discovered your face and that beard you're growing, I can throw in a shave, too. At no extra charge."

"But...the water...we're on a star ship."

"There are rations for patients." Bones squeezed his shoulder. "I've given you pain medication that will only last a little over an hour, so we better get moving."

"Where are we going?"

"Right here. We fixed it all up for you so we didn't have to move you too far." Bones paused. "I do need a nurse to come in to assist, if that's alright with you."

Jim inhaled a sharp breath. "Nurse Chapel?" That was not acceptable with Jim. The Re'an didn't allow the female beings to help bathe the males even if they were patients, but how could he explain that to Bones?

"No," Bones gently said, as if he knew exactly where Jim's mind had taken him. "Do you remember Garig? He's usually on beta shift. You may have met him the second time you woke up, Jim."

"Oh," Jim said, deflating in his relief. He didn't remember Garig but Bones' choice was fine with him despite that.

"Is that alright?"

"Yes." Jim licked his lips. Whatever was in the air, it smelled good. "What is that scent?"

Bones made a noncommittal but pleased sound. "Ya like it?"

Jim hesitated, wondering if one answer was preferred over the other. He must have waited too long to answer, for Bones continued.

"You always liked to sit beside this plant in my mama's garden back in Georgia. Then she'd use the leaves for tea, and ya never complained. In fact, you always wanted more. Helped you sleep, so I didn't mind seeing you drink three cups in a row."

"Mint." Jim savored the word on his lips. He could almost taste that tea. He wanted to taste it.

"That's right," Bones said softly.

Jim thought of 'mint,' again and a warm feeling crept into Jim's stomach, turning in a gentle way, over and over. The soothing, addictive feeling never subsided, even as they disconnected him from IVs and catheters and he was transferred to the tub. He thought of Bones' home in Georgia as his hand met with water and rested against the hard surface of the tub. The lightly scented water gently lapped against the skin of his arm and clear up to his shoulder - but he couldn't remember that home no matter how hard he tried. He remembered Mrs. McCoy's voice, bright and clear. He remembered Georgia's sunlight. He remembered mint, and he closed his eyes, relaxing as Bones' southern drawl reassured Jim that he held him and he was in no danger of drowning.

Jim liked the scent of mint and the feeling it gave him, but even more than that, he liked the feeling that maybe he could trust his friend a little more than he had first thought.

McCoy stood, stance rigid with crossed arms right outside the captain's private room. Spock stood a respectable distance away from McCoy and waited for the doctor to speak his mind.

"Spock, whatever you do, please don't cause him more pain. I believe the bath and more food helped, but Christine was right - he was unsettled earlier, which is expected, given that Jim is a thinker."

"I will do my best, doctor."

"Doing your best isn't good enough, Spock. He's...he's having a rough time. It's written all over his face."

"He was quite pleased with the bath, doctor, and even more pleased with the reminder of your home."

The doctor gave Spock a small smile in return. "I was hoping that would help."

"However, Jim continues to dwell on all the unknowns."

"I..." McCoy cocked his head, eyebrows meeting. "You know what's going through his mind, then?"

"Very much so, but he does not know my thoughts. I am shielding him from them, and..." Spock hesitated.

"What is it, Spock?"

"The bond from Jim's side is stunted by the barrier, but he is recalling events of the past and this is upsetting him. We must proceed now, while he is submissive."

"Do you realize how disturbing that is to hear?" McCoy's eyes flickered with sadness. "Our captain? Submissive?"

"I am aware." Spock felt it keenly, but did not allow himself to show this emotion.

"Do you know how much more disturbing it is to see that attribute in him? His passiveness? It's not Jim." McCoy blinked and looked away.

Remembering Nyota's cautioning to remain considerate of the doctor's feelings, Spock refrained from pointing out the utter lack of logic in McCoy's last statement.

Recalling, then, that he had thought much the same regarding their captain, Spock said nothing in reply at all.

"Well," McCoy sighed. "We do need to proceed right away, especially since we already had to delay this. You need to break some of that damn barrier immediately, or at least try, as long as it doesn't hurt him. Alright, Spock. I've given as much pain medication as I dare to, but his leg wound...It's not that much better, when you look at the big picture. He has a long way to go, Spock, and a lot of pain to go with it once you penetrate that barrier and he regains his sense of touch in his entire body. Be careful with him. Please."

"Understood." Spock slipped past the doctor. The doctor lingered behind, then abruptly pushed past as an alarm sounded. McCoy rounded the biobed, swearing softly. Both of Jim's hands shook under the restraints. The captain sucked in a breath, his face strained with effort.

"I'm sorry, buddy," McCoy sat beside Jim and gently grasped the younger man's gloved hand. He pulled the glove off and began to massage it again. "I promise I'll do this all day and night if it helps you, but I can't remove the glove for long periods of time."

Nyota knew his plan. McCoy's severe expression revealed that the doctor was also aware, and Spock felt no guilt for that which he was about to do. He waited only a moment, until McCoy set Jim's hand down on the biobed. Spock then placed his own hand on Jim's feeling shoulder. He paused, wanting Jim to first acknowledge his presence before proceeding.

The human's heavy breath settled as expected and then Jim said tiredly, "Spock, my pain stopped as soon as you touched me."

Spock did not wait for Jim to question 'why,' for Jim would not unless his state of mind allowed him to forget. "Yes, Jim. You are aware that as a Vulcan, I am a touch telepath. I can also alleviate your pain, and will do so now as we continue your therapy."

"You're taking away my pain...taking...it for yourself..." Jim sucked in a breath.

"Please breathe, cap-...Jim." Spock blinked, startling himself out of his semi-trance. Berating himself for a misspoken word and the tense way Jim now held himself, Spock closed his eyes and began the process again. This was the opportune time to test their bond, when Jim was willing and submissive. It was imperative that Spock continue his attempts to break down the Re'an barrier as much as possible. He did not expect to be able to destroy it all even now, but Jim was even more receptive to their bond than before.

McCoy huffed, grumbling softly to himself in the background. As Spock heard snatches of 'crazy hobgoblins' and 'idiotic geniuses,' he allowed the bond with Jim to take precedent in his mind. McCoy disappeared from his thoughts, as did sickbay and anything else but Jim and the sentence the Re'an had given the captain - a blind, unfeeling world.

Spock's presence soothed Jim. He wanted more, wanted what blocked the pain in his arm but more than that, he wanted the peace the Vulcan's presence brought to him. Jim closed his eyes, feeling as if Spock was in his mind, but that wasn't possible, was it? He hadn't quite understood what had occurred before. But now, he thought he understood. But...Jim was Re'an now. The Re'an would not allow this to happen not unless they were...they were...were...no, that couldn't be...what if they were...were...

Jim's thoughts stuttered to a halt before he could finish. He sensed Spock even more now, as if he had been the very one who'd closed that door. The Vulcan didn't want Jim to know why he was in his head, and Jim acquiesced.

Jim was forced to accept Spock's presence but the reality was that he wanted to accept his presence. Jim allowed the Vulcan to create a space for himself, to watch him for a moment after Jim had first recognized his presence.

And then, Jim didn't know what to do next, let alone what to expect from Spock.

Allow me, Jim.

When the Vulcan pushed against another closed area, the Re'an area, Jim winced. That was special to Jim. Didn't Spock know that?"

I will not hurt you.

Jim knew this. Spock was his friend, and he could trust Spock, especially now that he stopped pushing against the Re'an area. Jim wanted to cry with relief. Spock backed away.

You can trust me.

Jim knew that...he knew that because...

A memory broke through, one that Jim didn't remember ever seeing. All was hot. The glass separated them, separated him from Spock's hand. Jim's own hand pressed with a finality upon the glass, as a fire burned through his body. He had no breath and it was worse than now. It was worse than not feeling. He was burning from the inside out, suffocating, dying, blind towards the end, blind like now, but Spock was there, telling him he was Jim's friend.

Jim's mind ached, the mental anguish pure and sharp despite the clouded imagery. The Re'an barrier clawed at the memory, but not before Jim recognized that he was on a ship. He'd had a job on this ship. He didn't know what kind of job, but it was the place of his employment. Why hadn't Spock told him? Jim instantly cowered away from the memory as the Re'an barrier tried to reabsorb it and Spock fought for it back, winning part of it back and storing that part carefully without Jim's knowledge. Jim couldn't ask questions. If Spock stored it away and didn't tell him, it was for a reason. There had to be a reasons. A reason Jim was not supposed to know. So he looked the other way.

Think of your friends. Remember walking side-by-side with them. This is all that should fill your mind.

Jim didn't mind thinking of walking. The other was too hard. Although his head pounded, he listened. He thought as the Vulcan had requested, unaware that Spock's Vulcan telepathic strength pulled other hidden memories from behind the Re'an barrier and carefully dealt with them. Jim didn't know how much time had passed and he hadn't felt the Re'an barrier disintegrate in a few areas, but it had. When Spock halted him, Jim acquiesced again. As if he were in a dream, Jim raised a heavy hand to rub his weary eyes. He opened them, nothing but darkness before him as he'd come all too easily accustomed to.

But something was different.

A sheet brushed against his legs. His feet were cold, as if Bones had forgotten to adjust the temperature of both the room and biobed. He sensed the bed beneath him. He rested his uninjured hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath with his fingertips.

His heart lightened as he realized the truth. Spock had returned to him one of the things the Re'an had taken, something he hadn't even realized he'd missed so much.

"Spock?" His voice was paper thin, stripped from his throat as he called for both of his best friends. "Bones?"

"Jim?" McCoy's voice came softly from his left. "You can feel, can't ya? I know you're experiencing some pain, but Spock is still in a trance taking care of the worst for you."

"Spock...did this...he..."

"Yeah, Jim," McCoy brushed a hand over Jim's forehead. Jim closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth of his best friend. He'd mourned the comfort of the doctor so much it hurt even now, clear to his core. "He did. It's taken an entire day. Actually, twenty-six hours. He cares about you, you know."

And Jim did for Spock. They were friends. They had... "A bond. We have a bond."

"It's a good thing, Jim. I don't want ya to worry about it, okay?"

"It...helped me," he struggled to say. "But, he's hurting."

"I told you I wouldn't lie to ya but there would be some things I just couldn't tell ya. But right now, I will say yes, he is hurting, but he wouldn't have it any other way. That is why, for his sake and yours, I would prefer to sedate you again."

Jim's heart dropped. He'd just regained the feeling in his body. He didn't want to miss anything.

"Jim, your leg is recuperating from an infection of alien blood. Given the nature of your injury, it is very painful and you're gonna feel it when Spock can't shoulder it all for ya anymore."

"But he's tired now," Jim deduced. "He needs to rest."

"Yeah, he does, but he won't want to if you're awake. He'll remain even though I have a feeling he needs a day or two to recover. Now, I know you're probably dying to move around now that you can feel, but Jim...it's gonna hurt."

Jim licked his lips, nervously trying to figure out what the doctor was asking him. Jim didn't know what he wanted so why was Bones even suggesting Jim would know? Jim couldn't ask Bones, couldn't suggest anything, and for all of this - Jim was very confused. He was being given choices.

Ask him, Jim.

Jim took a tremulous breath. The Re'an wouldn't want him to.

It is one question, one that will benefit you. Ask Dr. McCoy.

Jim swallowed, panicked that he was failing the Re'an even though he had to obey Spock's seemingly simple request. Didn't Spock know this...this...hurt? That is went against everything Jim knew to do?

It will be alright, Jim.

In an act of trust, Jim decided to do what Spock asked. "What...what would you do?"

"I would sleep for awhile, to allow my body to rest and adjust without any complications for another day. Then, I would want to be awake and see how much pain I could handle. If I couldn't handle it, I would not suffer through it but ask to be sedated again until Spock was available to help me manage the pain."

Jim considered what Bones said. It was logical and sound.

"Is that okay with you?" McCoy asked softly, hand on Jim's forehead once again. "I want you to have a part in choosing what's next for your health. But, if you truly want to hang out here with me for awhile, we can. Otherwise, being sedated is not a bad thing. You'll still be able to feel when you wake up, buddy. Do you agree to sedation?"

Seeing a way to help everyone in this whole situation that revolved around him, Jim nodded. He'd do that for Spock, because he was given a choice. He'd do that for his best friend, because surely Bones had to sleep, too. Somehow, he realized that it was the choice he'd make even without the doctor's influence.

He was always choosing what benefitted other people and not himself. And this choice wasn't any different. It just felt...right.

Jim had chosen well and like a captain would. It didn't matter to McCoy that Spock had clearly influenced him and maybe even McCoy himself had influenced Jim, because that's what a first officer and CMO would do - properly inform their captain. Now, four days after that long, necessary but exhausting ordeal, Jim sat reclined in the biobed. With his good arm tucked carefully across his chest, he tipped his head back in contentment as Uhura read to him to keep his mind off his pain. She was doing an impressive job of it, too, always choosing books Jim enjoyed and ones that sometimes encouraged conversation between the two of them. The others had sat with Jim, but Uhura had taken the most shifts. When she first arrived, she placed a hat that she had knitted on Jim's bare head.

"For me?" Jim's eyes brightened, a slightly stunned look on his face.

"I'm not sure blue is McCoy's color, but it goes with your eyes perfectly," she kissed his cheek, causing a faint flush to rise on Jim's face.

McCoy shook his head, fighting a smile at his friend's newly-found bashfulness with women before going about his business - caring for Jim. Every effort was spent making sure the captain was as comfortable as he possibly could, whether it was in his bed or the most recent second option, a larger, cushioned chair with his injured leg carefully raised. Often, and for the first time since McCoy met Jim, he was now 'the captain' in McCoy's thoughts, for Jim was doing things that were more himself each day. Jim didn't realize it. The changes were minuscule, really. Minuscule but no less important. The captain never recognized the comments he made that encouraged the medical staff or his command crew or McCoy, most of all. Though rare, a question may come out of the blue and McCoy would answer, never making a big deal about it to Jim. Or Uhura would answer, for Spock had emerged from his meditative healing state two days ago but his responsibilities as Acting Captain had taken him away from Jim's side more often the past twenty-four hours.

McCoy frowned, seeing that the captain's body temperature dip by one point two degrees in the past two hours. Yesterday, the drop was point eight degrees and the day before that point six degrees. Nothing they did had resolved the issue, and the implications of this were disconcerting. Christine frowned, as well, and immediately replicated another pair of thick, soft socks for Jim's feet, to the captain's chagrin. She began to pull the sock over when Jim put a fist up to his mouth, trying to hide the fact that he was still ticklish as could be.

The captain made a face, a distorted one seeing that he was fighting an unstoppable laugh. "Socks again?"

"Your temp dropped more, Jim," McCoy tapped the controls on the bed.

"I think I may enjoy watching this," Uhura mused.

"No, Christine," Jim half-groaned, half-snorted with laughter as Chris purposefully lingered with her hand on the bottom of his left foot. "Please...this is just not fair."

"You know, Chris, I think you should have put that pair on him first." Uhura said smugly.

"Hmmm," Christine mused. "That is a good idea. Although, it means I will have to start over."

"What?" Jim's eyes widened. "Oh, no...please...no...that's torture..."

McCoy would've enjoyed the light-hearted, almost normal scene in front of him had it not been for the steady decline of Jim's numbers. He adjusted the room's temperature with a scowl. The room was going to feel like New Vulcan before the day ended. "I need to talk to Spock. Your bond...it's unstable."

It was the only thing that made sense. And being that Spock took awhile to heal from the meld, the Vulcan to human transfer could have only complicated things for Jim.

"So I'm cold...there are worse things. Like being...tickled." Jim groaned in good humor as Chris placed the other sock on his right foot, but McCoy could hear the laughter disappearing from Jim's voice.

He wasn't surprised when the captain's injured leg twitched involuntarily, increasing his pain instantly and eliciting a slow hiss from Jim. He fidgeted with the blanket, a fist clenching and hovering near the injury on his thigh. McCoy scowled deeper, cursing the alien blood for millionth time as he watched the pain snuff out Jim's happiness, the distractions failing.

The worse things were happening. Flecks of peach lingered in Jim's eyes, Jim still didn't remember he was captain, his demeanor remained influenced by the Re'an, and McCoy could not rid Jim of this utterly atrocious infection. Spock assured McCoy they were closer than before to finding the correct formula to stop the infection, and they were currently running tests. The blindness also persisted. Not only could Jim not see, he had no desire, no will to see. Although another probe into Jim's mind could possibly end the blindness, Spock did not recommend it until his own capabilities returned to normal. According to the Vulcan, the Re'an barrier had seen a 35.6% reduction, but what remained was even stronger.

The doors opened and Spock's unflappable gaze met McCoy's. "Doctor, I believe I can assist."

"Yeah. Why don't you do that. But first, I need to discuss something with you. His body temperature is-"

An alarm sounded but McCoy wasn't far. The captain had turned his head away from them all, laughter forgotten, but Uhura had paid no heed to Jim's obvious desire to be alone. She sandwiched the captain's good hand between her palms, her presence uniquely withstanding Jim's stubborn temperament. Jim's body was coiled tautly and his hand squeezed Uhura's, the captain having locked himself in a battle against the burning sensation in his leg.

And thus the problem.

"Ya gotta breathe, Jim," McCoy said gently.

Jim didn't. He didn't respond. He didn't do anything. He was reacting to the torturous pain like Captain Kirk would, a reaction McCoy would have been elated by except for when it came to Jim's well-being, he rather Jim not be a martyr.

Seeing that the struggle would be a future fixture every single time Jim was awake, McCoy nodded to Spock. "On second thought, I can wait."

Spock stepped closer to Jim, and Jim's head shifted slightly and he yanked his hand away from Uhura.

"No," Jim said through clenched teeth.

"Jim, the pain is spreading," McCoy held up a hand, stopping Spock momentarily. He wanted Spock to help Jim. The Vulcan's involvement like this was necessary for destroying the barrier, Jim's wishes be damned, but Jim had never said 'no' to them before. McCoy couldn't ignore it. "I don't want you to sit here miserable if you don't have to. Spock can-"

"...no," Jim gasped a breath. "..too much...for him."

"A Vulcan's tolerance-"

"...no..." Jim groaned. "That's...an order."

Jim's face leeched of color as silence hit the room.

"Wh...why...why did I just say that?" Jim's voice morphed into a whimper of a lost and hurting little boy. "Bones?"

McCoy took a deep breath. This was not good timing for Jim to show his true self. "Jim, I can't answer that right now. Spock, we have to proceed."

"But...I don't do that. Order. I don't...order. Bones?" Jim's eyes darted wildly and he reached for the doctor. His good hand fumbled at first but once he latched onto McCoy's arm, his hand was locked around the doctor's in a death grip.

"I'm sorry, Jim, but we can't have this conversation right now."

Jim froze.

"Do you remember me telling you that there are things we can't discuss because it's for your best interest? This is one of them."

"But...I gave...an order." Jim swallowed, his heavy breaths now shallow, painful efforts. "Why did I do that? Why...why did everyone stop talking? Did I...did I do something wrong? I don't understand."

"You did nothing wrong." Although everything in McCoy told him to spill everything to Jim, he forced himself to remain calm follow the guidelines they had set for Jim's benefit. "I know this is difficult, but you have to trust me. And for now, let's have Spock take care of the pain for you. If only for a little while."

Jim released McCoy's arm, shoulders curving inward and staring at the nothingness before him. McCoy hated the resignation mixing with pain on his face, and exchanged a worried glance with Uhura.

This wasn't Jim. Jim wouldn't want them to play games with him. Was that what they were doing? Were they making the time worse when they would have to tell him the truth? Or, would McCoy's ultimate fear be realized and that day never come?

"Bones," Jim whispered, his hand groping for McCoy's arm. "I don't want Spock to feel this. I want...to be...alone..." Jim grimaced, tension filling his rounded shoulders. "Please."

McCoy scowled. That was more than he expected. Spock needed to proceed. McCoy swallowed harshly. "I know you hate to cause anyone pain, but this is more important than we can explain to you right now, Jim. I have the authority to-"

"C.M.O." Jim's fragile voice bent under stilted letter. "Authority. That's what...that means... Bones? Authority?"

McCoy swore silently, sensing Spock's dark eyes boring into him. It was a major mistake on McCoy's part - and one that may prove too costly.

"CMO," Jim whispered again. "CMO. Chief...chief..."

"Jim-"

"I remembered something...earlier..." McCoy could see the wheels turning in Jim's head, causing the younger man to process too much information at a delicate time, therefore provoking an immediate increase in his heartrate. McCoy could very well see Jim soon experiencing a full-blown panic attack. "We were...camping...and... I had...cupcakes. You knew. You said...you were my CMO. And...if I have a CMO...chief...medical officer...if...I gave an order...it makes sense...that I'm...Bones?"

There was only one way to calm Jim, and only one way to calm McCoy's own heart as he heard Jim speak in broken sentences. He ignored the others in the room, including Spock's un-Vulcan worried gaze, and avoiding the IV lines, slipped on the bed beside Jim. He sat along the edge, for this was best. Contact, holding Jim close, not sending him directly to sedation. He enclosed his arms around his friend and cradled Jim's head against his chest, saying absolutely nothing.

"I'm...your captain." Jim said with disbelief, his weakened hand coming up to hold onto McCoy's arm.

Unable to curl his fingers correctly, however, his fingertips could not latch on the fabric but slid down McCoy's uniform. McCoy quickly grasped Jim's clammy hand with his own, stabilizing the captain's uncooperative muscles.

"Don't lie to me, Bones. I'm the captain...of...of this ship. But I don't remember. I don't know what to do. I can't see. I can't...I can't remember. Bones, I'm not me, am I?" Jim's entire body went slack in his embrace, like a man who had given up after walking along a tragic, steep and winding path and now faced a hopeless, just as twisted ending. McCoy tightened his embrace, holding Jim steady. "I..I was, because I can't be now. Bones? I...was...the captain?"

The captain's forehead perspired with the effort it took to speak and his breath was too uneven to appease the doctor. Jim buried his face into McCoy's chest, the captain in essence a trusting child like he had been since he first awakened. McCoy couldn't speak the orders to Christine. The damage was done and another minute wouldn't change a thing. Like it or not, they had reached the next stage, and the unavoidable would only worsen as time passed if they let things go.

McCoy took a cautious breath, but it was Spock who answered their captain with a firm but definitive and quiet, "Yes."