Author's Note: Chapter updated 2/15/15 and 2/17/15. Chapters 25-28 all have been edited with additional scenes. If you are able to do so, I do recommend going back and rereading them, although it will not be absolutely necessary. I will explain my reasons for this craziness once I update with Chapter 29.

I shall blame this author's note for dragging the word count of this chapter over the 5K line. Also, because of where Jim is at in his rehabilitation, I don't want to rush through to the end. These steps are important for him. REALLY important. They are absolutely necessary for him if he is to return to being the man he once was - or close to it. Not to mention that the McCoy and Jim tension really isn't resolved in Jim's mind, and can't be resolved until he remembers all of his manifestations. Believe me...he will recall ALL of those manifestations. Will he recall the REAL mission, though? Will the fact that Spock and McCoy are keeping 'the truth' from him catch up to them and bite them both from behind? Or one of them? I cannot tell you...not yet anyways. :)

I have to give a special shout out to my guest reviewers - thank you! I am touched that this story has grabbed your attention and has tugged on your heartstrings. I'll also give a special shout out to my other reviewers - thank you for taking the time to comment, especially when you REALLY enjoy reading. These reviews are truly priceless for a writer!

One more thing. I had an epiphany, and it may help things out as you read. At the end of the day, sometimes I just lose all of my common sense. Applying the word 'flashback' to a real scene that is in the past that's not really a flashback is not using common sense, is it? So, although I've explained those scenes, from now on they will be introduced with just a 'previously on Re'an V' or 'previously on the Enterprise.' How does that sound? Those types of scenes are for YOUR benefit, not that any character is really thinking them in the chapter. If Jim remembers one? I will definitely indicate that it's a flashback. (Actually...here's a small spoiler: captain's logs will come in handy before this story is over...they'll be necessary for Jim...) This week I will go back and fix those scenes that are real...there are only a handful so far.

I hope you enjoy this next installment. Please let me know if you do! Happy reading!


Spock regarded the fidgeting doctor standing inside his quarters. Nyota sipped a glass of water from her vantage on the couch, her feet tucked under her in her usual way. She tilted her head as she, too, watched McCoy cross his arms and lean against the wall only to straighten and pace in silence.

McCoy's visit tonight did not come as a surprise. Tomorrow marked the captain's transfer to his own quarters. It was a decision made by McCoy himself but having previously observed the doctor's behavior in sickbay, Spock already knew of his apprehension. "You are troubled, Dr. McCoy."

"Spock, I'm not sure Jim's ready for this."

At the mention of Jim, Spock's eyes fell on the untouched chess board on the table, the centerpiece Spock could not bring himself to put away. Its pieces lovingly cleaned by Nyota but otherwise left alone by his wife, the set, at times, was an illogical, haunting mockery of the captain's unfortunate circumstance.

"You cannot continue to shield him, doctor."

"Did you really just say that to me?" McCoy mouth dipped down.

"I assure you, doctor, that I did-"

"Spock," Nyota interrupted softly.

McCoy pointed his finger at Spock, his voice accusatory. "I've not been oblivious to the around the clock help you've been giving him. Being that you were preoccupied during the mission, I expected Jim to lose more control over the damn water in his eyes. But he didn't, and he fell asleep within minutes. Since then, although I know he's been exhausted by the therapy for both his leg and his arm, he's been too subdued. Quiet but content, almost like he's in a trance but...not. And that's all your doing."

"Indeed, it is," he admitted. It was the least he could do for the man whose very nature propelled him to sacrifice himself so freely. "I must shield him while I can so freely. It is for his benefit, doctor."

"And you're telling me not to protect him?"

"I did not command you to cease in your efforts to provide the captain comfort, doctor."

McCoy groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Do you know how exasperating you are sometimes, Spock?"

"Spock, it is altogether too late for the doctor," Nyota chided him.

McCoy shook his head. "If you didn't tell me stop, then what, pray tell, did you tell me?"

"Despite our efforts, we cannot expect that we are infallible. Neither can we expect the forces around us to conform to our desires."

"You're saying to expect...trouble?" McCoy rubbed a hand over his haggard face. "I am, dammit! I am every day! I'd just like for trouble not to come until he's a little more emotionally stable. I think he needs something from us right now that we haven't quite figured out. And, I can't put my finger on it."

"I have no doubt that you will soon determine the captain's needs, doctor."

"Better be soon." McCoy's heavy sigh weighed down his shoulders. McCoy waved a hand at him, turning towards the door. "G'night, Spock. Uhura."

Spock arched a brow at the sudden turn in conversation, but McCoy paused, appearing to have reconsidered his exit.

"Leonard, what is it?" Nyota asked softly.

"When the time comes, he's never going to forgive me, is he?"

"You don't know that," she replied, coming to her feet. Her eyes pierced him with compassion. "Those memories may disappear before he recalls them in greater detail."

McCoy looked away, sniffling as he rubbed at one eye and then the other. "I'm so tired my goddamn eyes are running like the mouth of a drunkard."

"It is not shameful to discuss your emotions with friends, Leonard." Nyota handed him a tissue.

Spock turned his attention elsewhere, sensing the captain stir in his sleep and determining that he could help Jim from afar.

"What would you do, if you were me?" McCoy implored them.

As Nyota drew a breath, Spock projected calming thoughts to his captain. "Be honest but only if the situation allows," Nyota said gently. "You know as well as the rest of us that he is not ready be told that most of what he believes is a lie. He's not ready because what the Re'an left in his mind will strengthen."

"This move...it's gonna do things. He's gonna find out. If he finds out too early and shuts down..." McCoy's jaw clenched.

"If that happens, it won't be your fault. He is in a period of self-discovery. We are all aware of these risks and we also know how to properly care for him."

"I hate seeing my friend this way," McCoy said in a low, hoarse voice. "I'd spend the rest of my life trying to protect him from what is bound to come. I'd do anything to take away the pain he'll feel once the inevitable happens and it all comes crashing down around him. I'd do anything, because I know this Jim will feel it all...and even deeper now that he has changed."

"What you are doing now for him is of utmost importance. Worrying about the future will not help Jim. Get a good night's sleep, Leonard. He needs you at your best tomorrow. I don't doubt your predication that this will be hard on him. Maybe it won't be difficult tomorrow, but it will be someday. For now, we take this one step at a time along with our captain."

As both men considered the wise words of Nyota, McCoy turned back to the door, looking dead on his feet. "Nyota, thank you. Spock, he needs you now more than ever."

Spock almost remained silent, wanting to wait until McCoy disappeared from view to respond only to his bondmate. However, Nyota prodded him to speak his peace before their friend left for the night.

"And I, in turn, have calculated that his presence in my life is a complete necessity," Spock stated. "I will not allow harm to come to Jim while you sleep. Return to your quarters comforted, Dr. McCoy."

McCoy's eyes widened. "Spock, I do believe that I will."

That being the last thing spoken between them for the night, the doctor sighed happily and left for his quarters.

Nyota grasped Spock's arm and her eyes, intense and thoughtful, locked with his. She was proud of him, and while it was not an emotion he permitted himself to frequently experience, he was gratified to know this. It had both pleased her and provided comfort for the doctor.

While he ruminated on his bond with the captain and how it revealed to him Jim's dynamic mind despite the meld's damage, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his in a warm kiss. What Nyota said was correct. However, Spock had calculated the level of intellectual and amiable communication he would experience through their bond after his recovery. He now longed for it. He anticipated it, but their present actions were of utmost importance in regards to Jim's recovery. So as Nyota slept beside him, one hand curled upon his chest, Spock did not sleep. Instead, he projected a continuous low level of calmness to Jim, warding off the succession of nightmares which threatened to disturb their captain.


"Alright, laddie," Mr. Scott cackled. "Once the good doctor has those in place, I'll hand you the data padd and you can begin. I cannae think of a better way to start the day than on a morning stroll with your lady."

Jim smiled, hesitant and a bit too tired from his short but concentrated physical therapy session for his hand and arm to handle the Scotsman's energy this morning - or his metaphors. Dealing with the ones Bones threw at him was hard enough. The addition of the dazzling words of the Scotsman was enough to make Jim want to go dive under the covers of one of the beds here in sickbay. The lady...the lady...morning stroll with his lady...Spock, what does that even mean?

Mr. Scott is referring to the Enterprise as a female, Jim. "The lady" is a term of endearment that you both use in regards to this vessel. To take a stroll with your lady means to walk the corridors of the Enterprise.

Jim nodded but the reference hit him as rather odd. He had loved this ship that much? Maybe they had told him about that reference already. He couldn't keep it all straight. Spock had explained many things since he'd realized he had been the captain of this ship, mostly things Jim didn't realize he was asking in the first place until after Spock answered him. At first, Jim had been slightly put off; he was mourning the loss of the Re'an and continued to harbor some level of resentment towards Spock for disallowing a visit with Soona, despite the warm attachment he had to the Vulcan and the Vulcan had to him. But, ever since he realized they had a bond, hearing Spock consistently in his head - sometimes as a soothing murmur almost beneath his consciousness and other times as the only voice of reason that would save him from asking a question that would embarrass himself- it had become a constant he now appreciated and anticipated. Especially when he wanted to sleep, because he found it difficult to do so without a sedative. Every night, Spock projected a calmness that Jim latched on to eagerly.

He would have liked to have kept those last thoughts to himself, but it was too late. He already sensed a frank smugness from the Vulcan.

"Spock, did you clear the corridors from here to Jim's quarters?" McCoy asked as he placed the second chip in Jim's other ear. Jim found comfort in the fact that the doctor had asked Spock the same question not five minutes ago. He was looking out for Jim, which contrasted with the feeling he had that not long ago, the doctor had not looked out for him. He had ruminated this morning on Bones' apology from over a week ago, more perturbed at himself for clearly having no sound reason to be afraid or upset with him at all. Especially as Jim reflected on the numerous, comforting acts of the doctor.

Jim simply didn't understand any of it, including his condition. He almost didn't want to; his stomach twisted when he started thinking about these things. Strangely enough, Spock offered him no feedback to clarify these incidents, either.

"Affirmative, doctor."

"Jim, they're tiny but powerful. Let us know if the sound's too loud."

"Here ye are, Jim." Scott's hand placed a miniature data PADD in Jim's gloved hand. "Go on..."

Sweat beaded along his forehead. Jim sucked in a breath as the therapeutic glove automatically forced his fingers to grip the device.

"That was a wee bit better than yesterday," Scott's bright voice echoed.

Jim lifted the device to his chest, pain firing from his hand past his wrist to his elbows. The small PADD might as well have weighed a ton for the time it took him to do just that.

"Good work, Jim," Bones' hand rested upon Jim's shoulder. "Now, find the loop on your belt and hook the device there."

Jim clenched his jaw, using his other hand to locate the loop. He transferred the device to the loop in over a minute yesterday during the first trial run, which had been far too long for his liking. He hoped to do better today. He sighed in exasperation when he missed the hook the first time.

"Try again," Bones murmured in his ear.

His hand felt as if it had been rendered in two but he huffed a breath and tried again, the device catching. He closed his eyes in relief. His hand dropped to his side, unclenching itself, and the muscles along his entire arm cramped. He sucked in a breath as the pain grew, but soon the discomfort faded. It was Spock, and Jim didn't protest. He didn't have faith in himself that he could do what Bones wanted him to do today if the pain in his hand continued to distract him: find his way to his quarters using the device and a cane, be given a tour of his quarters, and undergo some testing that Chekov was preparing while Bones and Spock were on duty. Shore leave had officially ended the day he'd walked into the hallway outside his room. He would be seeing less of his best friends and more of the senior crew as they continued to operate in shifts to visit him.

The day had been exhausting already and it was only mid-morning. Thanks to both Marin and Garig, the therapy for his arm and hand had been grueling. It wasn't the last he would see of them. They were scheduled to visit his quarters each day. The good news was that the infectious wound healed earlier in the week and since yesterday he was getting around by himself without a limp. However, his body had been mostly dormant for over three weeks recovering from surgeries and various injuries. Movement was still laborious. He only hoped he wasn't as dizzy as he was yesterday when he had walked the length of sickbay and lost sense of his surroundings.

"You know the drill," Bones squeezed his shoulder then dropped his hand.

Jim was on his own. He nodded and straightened his shoulders. His fingers touched the edge of the padd. Finding the raised portion, he pushed down on the button. The device scanned the room, filtering what Jim needed to know to walk out of sickbay's doors, into the corridor, and finally to his quarters. The program informed him of every inch of his surroundings.

He stood a few seconds too long, almost twitching.

"Jim?"

"I...uh..." Jim rubbed his head, which was the very thing on his mind. He felt the bare, cool skin of his skull - and he hated it. Something like this shouldn't bother him, should it? Where had his hat gone?

"I believe that the captain-"

"Spock," he shook his head, transferring his weight to the other foot. "No captain and no...no...just forget it."

"Jim, you keep rubbing your head." Bones hesitated. "Is it the hair?"

"Never mind," he mumbled, hating he was so transparent. "'s fine."

"No, we can wait a minute," Bones said slowly. "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible while doing this. Is the lack of hair bothering ya?"

"Yes-" Spock stated.

"No-" Jim shot out at the same time. Jim huffed a sigh. "I mean, it's a...a little...chilly."

Demoralizing was more like it. He had no hair. He was bald. He was going out into the ship for the first time. He had ...fuzz. No, actually, it couldn't even pass as fuzz. Bones told him yesterday that because his system had been impaired, his hair growth had been stunted for three weeks. Jim hadn't taken it well, even with the new promise that Bones had fixed the issue. The very possibility existed that despite the fact they cleared the corridors, someone could see him - and he was bald. He felt the proof with his hand, wincing.

"Ye have nothing to be embarrassed about laddie, awantin' your hair back. 'Tis only natural."

Jim swallowed with difficulty, Mr. Scott's observation hitting the mark.

"Okay, let's find your hat, then," Bones said. "Nurse Chapel?"

"Lieutenant Uhura brought another one in just yesterday because the first one you had the nurse on alpha shift accidentally discarded." Christine said softly. "Here, Mr. Kirk-"

"Jim. Just Jim," he stated, flushing immediately as Chris transferred a warm, knitted cap to his hand.

"Oh," Christine stated, surprised. "Jim, then."

"I'm sorry. I'm not...I shouldn't have said..."

"The captain prefers Jim because Mr. Kirk sounds cold and foreign to him."

"Spock, really. You don't have to keep doing that." Wishing he had already learned the control required to stop projecting his embarrassing thoughts, Jim gave an exasperated sigh and pulled the hat over his head. Only, he couldn't quite get it pulled over the one side. Another pair of hands touched his, ones feminine and soft. Christine, he assumed, when he smelled vanilla for Bones was more of a woodsy, pine scent, with a hint of mint. When Bones' back was turned or the doctor wasn't in sickbay, Christine was always there ready to assist Jim.

"It is imperative that I do so for your benefit."

"So...this is going to be a...a thing?"

"A thing?" Spock echoed.

Jim scratched the bridge of his nose. He really wasn't sure what 'a thing' was, either. "A...a...habit?"

"Indeed," Spock said without apology.

Jim sighed. "I figured as much."

"If you were to speak your mind, I would not have to resort to such tactics."

"Speaking my mind is..." Jim rubbed his jaw. "Uncomfortable, Spock. Awkward."

"It never was before," Spock said softly.

Jim frowned, not sure what to think of that statement. His past was incredibly vague and for the first time...

"And here I thought I was the only one who argued with Spock these days," Bones said with amusement. "Here's your cane, Jim. It's the precaution we talked about, especially with your right arm in danger of being injured if you fall or jostle it. Take it with your gloved hand, okay?"

His mood having soured since Spock referred to him as captain, Jim transferred the cane to his better, left hand.

"Jim, you must use your right hand," Bones gently admonished. "It's your dominant hand, in the first place, and if you don't use it in these simpler tasks, it will be even more difficult to rehabilitate as time progresses."

But Jim held the cane fast with the hand he chose, heart thudding loudly in his ears. "I don't want to be someone I'm not, Bones. I don't...I don't want to...to..."

"The captain does not wish to be forced to become who he once was," Spock continued for him. Jim sighed, irritated with the address of captain, but inside he was relieved that Spock had said what he found difficult to share.

"You think all this is to make you what you were?" Bones asked softly. "Without your consent?"

He nodded, clenching his eyes shut until Bones' hands gripped both of his shoulders and he knew the doctor stood directly in front of him.

"Jim, I can understand why you would feel that way. For one, things are still confusing for you, and two, you've experienced a great loss. As your physician and CMO, I have told you before that I have decided that it is best for your health for us to keep some things to ourselves until you're strong enough to handle them. Either way, we want what is best for you. We want you to be able to find your way to your quarters on your own and to feel comfortable on this ship. For the time being, you do belong with us and it's for your safety that we are training you to walk the corridors. It is so you feel a sense of accomplishment that we begin testing you soon to see what tasks you can manage on this ship."

"And...and if I'm...I'm never him?" Jim swallowed uncomfortably, his heart fluttering. As the days passed, his awareness of his surroundings and situation grew little by little. His awareness of his friends had, as well, and for now he had come to a decision: it was too difficult to dwell on who he had been. Dwelling on the present was easiest, and it didn't make sense for him to try to find someone that could never be. He didn't really have a choice in the matter but he didn't want them to work so hard to find the old him - he was terrified that person was too damaged to be found and they would be devastated to learn that in the end. He wanted to keep them from getting hurt, most of all.

"The Jim you are now? I like ya just as much as the old Jim, especially with this hat you're wearing," Bones said fondly, tugging at the sides of the knitted hat until the ends covered the top of Jim's ears. His hands were warm, and Jim soaked up his touch. "Who cares about being bald! The hat brings out your eyes, kid. Spock likes ya just as much, too. I know you know that, and it's just your insecurities talkin' right now. And that's okay. We will take this a day at a time, buddy."

As if to reiterate the doctor's words, feelings of acceptance and friendship washed over him. Jim tilted his head towards Spock, momentarily speechless by the sheer propensity of emotions that Spock used to try to calm him. It was working, and so was Bones' unconditional love and compassion. In seconds, his shoulders relaxed and his mind became more malleable to the upcoming task.

"Are you ready to lead the way to your quarters?" Bones paused. Jim nodded slowly. As he had expected, Bones took the cane from Jim's left hand and gently prodded his gloved hand to open and placed the cane within his palm. "I know you don't want to be pushed right now, but it's important you try a little harder, Jim. I'll be right beside you, monitoring your progress. If I see that you really can't manage, I'll step in, alright?"

Jim gritted his teeth but decided that he would do anything for Bones, even this. He took a deep breath. He really had no choice but to begin. He walked with as normal gait as possible, listening to the prompts concerning walls and turns that were only audible to him as he used the cane to ground himself.

But as he walked in the vacated corridor, his two best friends beside him and a loyal Scotsman behind him, he was unable to shake the idea which had come to him earlier. He finally allowed himself to reflect on those thoughts that he'd hastily brushed aside earlier - and attempted to hide them from Spock for he would rather die than give them false hope.

He was now curious to know what it would be like to be that person, that man they so desired that he become again. Even though he wasn't their captain as they remembered, and he wasn't even sure who that man really was, their love remained. He didn't understand it. He wondered if they really did feel the same about the new him as they did the old him, and his heart beat faster the harder he focused on the idea. He realized that no matter how hard he tried to unravel their affection, it remained steadfast.

One thing was certain - they were his closest friends, both then and now, and they deserved the best. But the only best he knew how to be right now was this...being this new Jim.

He had a sinking feeling that it wouldn't always be enough.


McCoy observed the man lingering in the doorway of the captain's quarters with a sense of pride. Thinking of the engineer and his key part in Jim's progress, McCoy turned his head and nodded his thanks to Scott. He received a wide smile in return. Spock nodded stiffly. His response was somewhat delayed, giving McCoy pause. Jim had managed to navigate the entire way to his quarters without any assistance except for the device and the one time McCoy caught him by the elbow when he stumbled. It should have been enough to put smiles on all three of their faces, but Scott's enthusiastic beaming would suffice.

"You alright?" McCoy asked when Jim still made no move to enter.

"Yes. Where would you like me to begin?"

Although the Re'an part of Jim broke through, McCoy knew better. His friend stood straight with his cane primed to go as he was told, but his sightless eyes revealed a fresh weariness from expending more energy than he had in over three weeks.

"I'd like you to go around your sitting area, Jim, beginning on the right." McCoy grasped Jim's arm. "But first, I think you should sit and take a breather."

It wasn't the first time McCoy helped Jim to a chair but the device had already alerted Jim the location of the chair. Jim's head turned in the right direction. He walked over and when his cane touched the chair, Jim's hand groped along the edge. McCoy held his elbow to steady him.

Jim paused. "I can do this part on my own, Bones."

Hearing an edge to his voice that hadn't been there earlier, McCoy withdrew his hand. "Sure, Jim." McCoy said, shocked at the unsettledness in his stomach. He had to squelch his anxiety now before Jim picked up on it. At times he hardened himself too much around his patients, and presently, he couldn't do so if he tried. This was Jim. A different Jim. If there was ever time for a bedside manner, it was now.

Jim lowered himself into the chair, silent as McCoy prepared a glass of water. Spock stood by Jim, and Scott inspected the areas in Jim's quarters that had been recently proofed for their blind captain before heading back to engineering. All potentially harmful corners had been removed or altered a few days ago, and providing Jim with more floor space had dictated a rearrangement or removal of already limited furniture.

Of course, Jim didn't protest, didn't say a single word as McCoy pressed a glass of water he'd added supplements to into his hand. "Drink up."

Jim sipped twice before both his glass and shoulders dropped. He made no move to finish.

"Jim, it's best if you drink it all," McCoy urged softly. "You need all the fluids you can get to keep your health on a steady incline."

Jim obediently lifted his glass to his lips and drank every last drop without protest. McCoy couldn't help but think on the time when his friend would have rolled his eyes or offered some smart remark about McCoy being a mothering hen.

But that wasn't who Jim was now. Although something was obviously on Jim's mind, McCoy waited, hoping he'd speak up without being prompted. After a moment it was clear Jim wasn't going to share. McCoy suggested the next step.

"Are you ready to explore?"

In reply, Jim heaved himself out of the chair, hand poised with the cane.

Before McCoy could move another muscle, Spock was hovering at Jim's side, now his guide and an impeccable one at that. Jim listened to the prompts and brushed his cane against objects, his hand running over every surface. Spock offered explanations as they came to the replicator and various cupboards holding cups and other dishes. McCoy was content to sit back and allow someone else work with Jim. It was a different perspective but one he was quite willing to share with Spock.

After ten minutes of a careful inspection, Jim stopped at last and drew a breath. "This isn't familiar to me."

"It's okay that it isn't, but we want it to become familiar. A spaceship can be unpredictable, Jim, and it's important you're comfortable here. Your quarters should to be a place that feels like home to you, or at the very least, a safe place."

Jim replied with silence, his expression as impassive as that of his first officer's. McCoy didn't exactly know what he'd hoped would happen once Jim reached his quarters but this behavior wasn't what he had expected. Given the circumstances, Jim had been fairly talkative in sickbay before they left. McCoy's heartfelt words seemed to have eased his fears. Spock's presence provided Jim comfort. And now? It was if something simmered just beneath the surface, Jim's quarters appearing to be the very cause. Even Spock's spine had straightened so stiffly that McCoy was worried the Vulcan was going to snap.

McCoy's stomach swirled with unease. Being in his quarters clearly bothered Jim, and Spock had picked up on Jim's emotions. Other than asking Jim what was wrong and pushing for a response that would leave Jim even more upset, there was nothing to do but move on.

The palpable tension thickened the instant Jim stepped into his bedroom.

"Now would be a good time for us to show you how your things are organized in your dresser," McCoy said.

Jim squared his shoulders and began to walk- without his cane.

McCoy stepped back and glanced about the room. "Jim, wait a sec. Where's your-"

It was too late. Without the cane, Jim had shuffled his feet. He tripped, stumbling directly into the dresser. Jim cried out as his right side received the brunt of the fall.

"Jim!" McCoy darted forward.

Expression dazed, Jim stumbled again but strong arms caught him, restraining him just before his head bashed against the dresser. Spock pulled Jim to his feet and wrapped his arms around the stunned captain.

McCoy couldn't reach Jim fast enough. This was just what he feared - Jim injuring his weak arm and hand further. "Let me take a look. If there's more damage done to that arm..."

Wincing and holding his arm protectively, Jim attempted to straighten himself. He pulled away from Spock. He went even further and turned his face away from McCoy.

"Jim, let me see it," McCoy repeated.

"I'm fine." Jim gritted.

"You sure about that, buddy?" McCoy asked in a soft voice.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut, silent as McCoy brought over his tricorder. McCoy scanned his arm and hand, mindful to keep his hands off of the tense captain as much as possible. Spock positioned himself behind Jim, invariably blocking him from any escape or fall.

Soon, McCoy lowered his scanner with relief. "Besides some inevitable bruising there was no additional damage this time, but you have to use these precautions, Jim. That means the cane along with the device."

Jaw clenched, Jim gripped the edge of the dresser with his left hand. His fingers turned white at the knuckles. Now knowing very well that the dresser was there, he stood in front of it with a lift of his chin and an undeniable stiffening of his body. He was like a soldier ready for battle.

And after that incident, maybe he was ready for a fight. Memory loss aside, McCoy couldn't imagine what being blind would be like. Jim had always been independent, apart from his perpetual need for McCoy's medical knowledge and skills. He was now forced to depend upon others as he adjusted to this life, until Spock deemed it safe to break more of the Re'an barrier or it mostly dissolved on its own. At one time, Jim had faced challenges head on, but he had changed. Who knew how well he would adjust. Re'an tendencies prevailed but despite them, Jim was still human and experiencing strong, human emotions. Bitterness towards his condition was natural, and McCoy expected to see it gradually emerge in Jim as the Re'an barrier broke.

"Your things aren't organized as before. They are color coded for your ease." McCoy searched for a sign from his friend that he was willing to be instructed. They were losing ground with him - fast.

Jim swallowed, his gaze to the floor. "I understand, but I don't remember how it was before, anyways."

Not certain if he imagined the hint of bitterness in Jim's tone, McCoy softened his voice. "Alright, Jim. We labeled your dresser drawers with the Braille system until you get used to things. Even found a couple books a crewmember had that you may like to read. Uhura will go over Braille with you when she-"

Jim blinked. "I already know how to read Braille."

"You do?" Considering the languages Jim knew, McCoy shouldn't have been surprised.

Jim's brow creased. "Well, I think I do. There was a ship headed for the base where...where my mom was stationed? I may have been fourteen?"

"You were fifteen years old, Jim," Spock quietly interjected

"I guess I saw my chance when I heard that a group of blind children were going the same direction. I faked some records and enrolled in the school. It wasn't for long...maybe only for a few weeks?"

"You pretended to be blind so you could galavant across the galaxy to visit your mother." McCoy almost didn't believe it.

That was after Tarsus, and Jim had never once mentioned this hitchhike through space. In fact, although Jim's relationship with his mother was better now and they communicated on a monthly basis, Jim had harbored great resentment towards his mother as a young teen, especially at tthe age of fifteen. Why, then, had Jim gone to such lengths to see her?

Jim's face lost a little bit of its color. "It was a few months of warmth and food without Frank," he said, as if he'd read McCoy's mind. That simple explanation revealed everything McCoy needed to know. Live with Frank? Or pretend to be blind to avoid living with an abusive step-father.

"Did you get to see your mom?"

"Never made it to the base. Ship got attacked by pirates and I got hauled off by the back of my neck like the scrawny, helpless puppy I was. I did escape them eventually but ended up far from Earth in the process." Jim exhaled a long breath. "That's all I remember. Nothing is really clear before that event and nothing after until the weirdness of being at the Academy with a guy who threw up on me on the shuttle ride there. Can we finish going over where my shirts are? And pants? And...whatever else is in here? I'm damn tired, Bones, and if you want me to do some testing I think I need to shut my eyes for a little bit before Chekov comes."

Halfway through Jim's monologue, Spock's brows raised to his hairline. McCoy brought a fist to his mouth, suppressing a sob that he belatedly tried to pass off as a chuckle. There was a little of the old Jim, a month missing. He had to see it to believe it himself. Spock did say to expect these glimpses of their captain from time to time, but not to read into them more than what they were- rare and precious peeks of his former self. Jim volunteering the information about his past and memories of his own accord was crucial. More could wait, especially after what Jim had accomplished just this morning. They must be patient.

"Yeah, Jim. We can."

*********previously on Re'an V***********

After firing at two Re'an renegades and promptly stunning them, Jim fell behind Spock in the twisted, flaming garden. They'd retrieved all the children and secured them with four security officers and Uhura. Now, Spock, Jim, and a team of limited security searched for the remaining renegades too stubborn to take the clear route that had been created for them. Something moved in the corner of his eye. He turned and aimed for the departing female warrior on their left. Something about her perplexed him but Jim couldn't afford to hesitate. Now that her arms were free from carrying a Re'an child, she ran faster than she had before. He fired just as she charged forward - and missed.

"Dammit," he growled and tore off his mask.

"Captain, I do not believe that is wise."

"I can't see worth a damn, Spock." Jim whipped his head around, looking for the Re'an warrior. He opened his mouth to request the assistance of one security officer but the scent of snake wafted his way.

Jim's eyes widened. She was closer than he had first thought. He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent to seep into his mind and into his lungs when he spotted the blue-skinned alien dashing across to a smokeless area. "Spock, I'll follow this one. Keep up with the others. That's an order!"

Jim tore off, having no time to explain to Spock what he was doing. Spock wouldn't be able to refuse since their numbers were low. He had second thoughtd about an accompanying officer - that would only slow him down. When he realized Spock had, indeed, ordered a security officer to follow him, Jim dashed into a cluster of fruit trees and through a series of crooked paths, losing both security and the alien.

"Dammit," he whispered. There was something about this Re'an female that nagged at him. After a moment, he cautiously peered out and finding no one around, emerged. Oddly, the warrior he'd been trailing earlier appeared on the same path. He began to run, his breaths growing heavier with each passing second. The creatures' scent pulled him to her and now that he picked it up once more, there was no other course for him but to follow the tantalizing trail. Although he couldn't make out her distinct features, she was different from the other Re'an. He thought it could be her size - it didn't make much sense. Neither did the fact that he'd witness her depositing one child away from the ensuing fight. Was she one of the renegades or not? He decided to follow his instincts and race ahead, never mind that he clearly felt the pull of the creatures.

A blow to his shoulders knocked him forward to his knees and his phaser straight out of his hand. He groaned, shaking his head to clear his vision.

"R'alk! te fwi'se!"

Jim staggered to his feet as he heard the war cry and whipped his head around to see eyes full of hatred. It was Man'en, the prince's cousin. The head warrior hissed at Jim and in one deliberate, smooth movement unsheathed a curved blade from his belt.

Man'en stood larger than life, his shoulders broad and his arms extended as he charged forward. Jim backed up as much as he could but rammed into the tree behind him. The warrior made a single sweep with his weapon. Jim sucked in his chest and dropped sideways, rolling away but not before he felt the blade slide across his torso. He cried out, dirt filling his mouth as he rolled. Tears flooded his eyes as the stinging of his stomach became unbearable. He stopped briefly, panting and spitting out as much of the bitter particles as he could before they choked him. He didn't think Man'en had sliced him too deeply, but he couldn't pause to find out.

Desperate for a weapon, Jim reached for anything that had fallen onto the ground below the tree. Nothing. There was nothing but dirt. But it was the Re'an's bitter dirt, nasty in the mouth as he knew, but possibly the same in the eyes. It could be a secret weapon if used correctly. Jim grimaced and tore at the ground with his fingers. He fisted as much as he could into his hand and when he sensed the enraged warrior looming above him, Jim tossed the handful of clumped Re'an ground into the air. He rolled away again, clutching at his bleeding wound. Man'en cried out, forced to abandon his fight as the particles entered his eyes like fiery red ants.

The distraction bought Jim five seconds. He saw his phaser and dove, but fell short. Cursing, he crawled, not knowing if his torso was truly being ripped in two or if the pain was merely amplified by the desperation of the situation. Jim propelled himself forward by digging his fingers once more into Re'an dirt. His body jerked backwards. As the fresh wound met with friction, the fire in his stomach swelled.

"No," Jim growled through the pain and twisted to kick at the hand that had a deadlock on his boot. His attempts were useless against the Re'an strength, and Man'en dragged him face down through the unrelenting, harsh ground as if he were weightless. The dirt darkened his vision, his eyes smarting from the painful, foreign particles just as the warrior's eyes appeared to have done. Dust swirled, and Jim choked. He twisted away, a wave of pain nearly stopping him. His breath caught when something else did stop him.

Man'en held his blade at Jim's throat.

"Today, human, you have lost," the warrior hissed.

Jim blinked away some of the grit from his eyes. Death, again, so soon? There was always that chance, and here he was. So soon. Again, and like before, he had nothing up his sleeve to save himself. It had been foolish of him to leave Spock, but...he couldn't explain what had happened. His mind had attached itself to the snakes, as it had at the first time he'd held the creatures. Following was all he could do - but it wasn't right. The snakes' connection with Jim from the beginning had been strong, and now it affected him until he had lost all sense. He had to tell Bones and Spock, but it was too late.

"Then do it. Now. While you steal away with innocent children," Jim challenged with fading breath.

Man'en grinned wildly and pressed the blade deeper against Jim's neck. Jim clenched his jaw, steeling himself before the alien's blade sliced him, but the bare flesh of his neck merely stung. A shallow cut? Jim sucked in a breath. What game was he playing at? Strangely enough, the warrior laughed, confusing Jim even more. Man'en withdrew the blade from Jim's neck and pulled out a dart blower instead- and crumpled to the ground. Man'en's weapon dropped harmlessly upon his chest. Jim widened his eyes in disbelief at the alien slumped beside him.

"Captain Kirk, you're injured," a voice murmured above him.

It was the very Re'an he'd been trailing, her hands pressing on his chest. Confused, he tried to lift himself up and away from her touch but halted his vain efforts when the scent of snake wafted his way.

"Lie still." She ordered, hands peeling back his bloodied shirt. He obeyed, but only because the scent of the creatures was stronger now that she was near. "I do not believe the blade cut too deeply but you are losing blood."

"You shot him." He murmured, attempting a guess in his sluggishness at what she'd done. A dart protruded from Man'en's neck.

"Yes. He sleeps from the dart's poison." Her eyes sorrowed. "I did not wish for you to be harmed for following me. They wanted you to follow me but...your capture would have been on my hands. You followed because you knew I was different and you smelled the snakes. You do not think with your right mind, captain, but it is not your fault. It is the connection you have with the creatures and their very scent which is capable of twisting even the strongest mind."

Hearing voices approaching, he rolled his head to the right.

"They are coming but I must warn you."

"Why?" He blinked to clear his vision. He saw her eyes. Her forehead..."You...you're not..."

"Re'an?" She shook her head. "No."

"You're human." Jim's mind raced with the implications. "Why are you here? Who are you?"

"I'm Soona," She leaned in, whispering. "I'm here to warn you. I think they need you, Captain Kirk."

"No," he grasped her hand weakly and lifted his head. "Why are you here, with them?" He panted.

She pursed her lips and took his hand and pressed it against his stomach. He winced but she looked firmly at him. "I must go. Do not lift your hand. I should have stopped him sooner but I didn't want to accidentally hit you with the dart. Be careful, Captain. Do not think that all is well with Lequa...with the snakes. I do not know exactly what Man'en and Lequa wanted you for, but they do."

"Jim!"

The voice now closer, Jim breathed a sigh of relief. Bones and Spock would find him soon.

She jolted to her feet and grasped the dart from Man'en's neck with a hand stained by Jim's blood. "Your doctor and first officer are approaching. And more Re'an, perhaps. I must go..."

"No! Wait...Soona..." Jim stared at her, thoughts churning in every direction. The snakes and their power - they had twisted his thinking. But the image on the symbol, the hands on the mind...mind...meld...snakes...Jim shook the thoughts away for now. He had more important things to consider - like saving Soona. "Do you want to leave?"

"Yes." She breathed sharply at her confession, averting her face.

"It's okay," he assured her. "I see the fear in your eyes. We can help you."

"I must go. If anyone sees me speaking with you...If they see what I have done to Man'en...you must say you did it."

"Do you want...to leave?" He forced out a slow breath, doubting Soona wanted any part in the kidnapping of Lequa's children. If she had, indeed, saved him from Man'en's capture, her life could also be in danger. But, more than that, he recognized the emotion in her eyes; he had felt something similar a long time ago. "You're here against you're will, aren't you?"

"They stole me when I was a child," she whispered. "Yes. I do want to leave. Will you help me? Now that I've helped you? I must...I must hide...I...send someone to the west corner of the garden in a few hours. To talk."

"Then, by all means...we will." Jim offered a weak smile, consciousness ebbing. Hearing his friends' voices, Jim relaxed into the dust, eyes on the black, curling vines of the Re'an garden that cascaded above him, giving the illusion they were falling from the sky. The dark vines reached for him with their formidable strength, obstructing his view as darkness encroached. Jim shivered at the sight and all went dark.

*********** end scene **********

Chekov chattered, giving additional instructions as Jim tried to recall where exactly Bones had placed the glass of juice on the table. The doctor had trotted off to Jim's bedroom to comm Christine a few minutes ago, and Chekov now prepared Jim for a second set of tests and exercises. Their purpose almost amused Jim. He didn't recall much of anything about the departments on the Enterprise, of course. He was going through the motions, anyways, despite the fact that his brain felt as heavy as his eyes. For his friends, he repeated to himself. Learning where everything was in his quarters had drained him, and he felt a twinge of self-consciousness when Bones had to take the time to show him where every little thing was, right down to his boxers. He was also embarrassed for tripping over his own feet and falling into a piece of furniture he knew had been there. They said this was where he was to feel comfortable. Safe. Jim didn't feel comfortable, and other than when Spock specifically filled his mind with his presence, he wasn't certain he felt safe. He was in the dark - always. How could he feel safe?

All of these feelings went against what he thought would gain the Re'an's approval, but the Re'an weren't here. They were gone. He was supposed to fit here, on the Enterprise, but how could he do that when he couldn't even "fit" in his own quarters. Jim sighed. He wasn't sure he could tell Bones and Spock that he was scared. They would want to know why, and Jim didn't want to tell anyone why.

Only half-listening to the young man beside him, Jim carefully placed his left hand on the table, hoping he could find his glass without calling attention to himself.

"Here, sir." Chekov placed a data PADD at his fingertips. "Ze program is veady ..."

The 'sir' threw him as much as the 'captain' did from Spock and forgetting he'd been looking for his juice, Jim reached for the button on the PADD.

His hand bumped against something hard, knocking it over with a clang. "Shit," Jim whispered as his hand found the mess on the table. In seconds, his shirt and pants clung to his skin. He shifted his thighs, wanting to move out of the way from the juice oozing off the table but Chekov placed his hand on Jim's shoulder.

"Sir, hold still. I vill take care of this."

Mortified, Jim could only sit as Chekov scurried to get a towel to mop up the result of his carelessness. He froze when he heard Bones come up behind him.

"Let's get you cleaned up, Jim."

Jim's eyes stung. He didn't need 'cleaned up.' A kid needed cleaned up. A dog did, or a trained monkey. He wasn't any of those things. All Jim needed was to be left alone, but Bones didn't hear his silent command and neither did Spock, wherever he was. Jim hadn't heard even a murmur from the Vulcan, which confused him. Jim didn't want his thoughts broadcasting as they had before on their own. Maybe he was working too hard at reversing that. Maybe that was why he was so damn tired.

The doctor took off Jim's glove and with a damp cloth and great care, wiped the remainder of the juice from his hands. Giving Bones nothing but silence and then a stiff arm to hold on to, Jim allowed himself to be pulled up out of his seat and led to the bedroom. The quicker he acquiesced, the sooner this was all behind him.

"It's alright, buddy," Bones said once Jim stood in his room. "I'll let you do this on your own, if that's what you want?"

Bones had read him well. Jim tightened his grip on the cane. "If that's okay."

"It is, as long as you're..." Bones paused mid-sentence. Jim gritted his teeth, knowing what word was missing. Careful. "You have to use that cane, Jim."

"I will."

"Do you remember where everything is?"

"Yes." How could he not? It was all done for him with painstaking care.

"I'll be right outside, then."

Once the door had closed and he was alone, he took deliberate, slow steps. After he reached the dresser Jim wearily fingered the markings along his drawers, fumbling over the dots more than anything. He was half-tempted to plop down right on the floor in protest and sleep. Sighing, he knew that he couldn't. Bones wanted him to work a little longer. Besides, he had already taken a nap before Chekov even arrived. Resigned, Jim finally pushed the button which opened the drawer holding his civilian clothing, all placed in their particular spots for his convenience. He peeled off his wet shirt with great effort and let it fall from his grasp and land by his feet. He rested his hand on a pile of black shirts, thinking on this arrangement. He hardly cared what color of shirt he wore, let alone how they were organized.

Jim bunched the first shirt in his hands. He thought of the control he didn't have at the present time and after running his fingers over the dots, shoved the black shirt into the pile of blue shirts next to it. Adrenaline surged through his body. Heart beating wildly, he imagined the control he might have once had as captain or as just plain Jim Kirk, a man who could see, and dropped an entire pile of clothing on the floor.

It fell with a light but satisfying thud.


More than five minutes had passed since Jim went into his room to change. McCoy rose to his feet, anxious to see if Jim had managed on his own. He had several things to tend to in sickbay but if his hunch was right and Jim was unsettled in his quarters, he would delegate those things in a heartbeat. He would also comm Spock. Jim didn't just need the presence of his attending physician.

"Is ze Keptin alright?"

"I hope so, Chekov." McCoy made his way to Jim's bedroom. "But, he should be done alread-"

The door slid open. McCoy's heart constricted when he saw firsthand the product of his best friend's bottled up emotions. An assortment of once folded clothing lay scattered or bunched in new piles on the floor, and one Jim Kirk lay, sprawled face down on his bed, arms spread wide and wearing a peculiar pairing of pants and shirt, sleeping.

McCoy sighed. "Oh, Jimmy."


Author's Note: R'alk! te fwi'se! = My enemy! Rise and fight!

Nobs asked a question regarding Jim's abdominal injury in this chapter. As the scene already indicates, this occurs in the Re'an garden during the kidnapping. The kidnapping occurs days BEFORE the Re'an meld, so his abdominal injury does NOT need to be listed as an injury in chapter 19. McCoy would have taken care of it already.