Jim stays locked in the bedroom for two days. Leonard resorts to using the computer to monitor his vitals so he doesn't have to force his way into Jim's 'safe space.'

The afternoon of the third day Jim unlocks the bedroom door but doesn't come out. It's okay, even a little progress is still progress. Leonard just crawls into bed with him and holds him through his broken sobs.

"Are you ready?" asks Leonard standing at the door to Jim's hospital room. It's practically been home for both of them for months; both a second prison after escaping Nero and a sanctuary from the big wide world that awaits them out there.

"Yeah," replies Jim sullenly. He just sits there, feet hanging off the bed but not touching the floor. He's bundled up in a baggy hoodie that once used to fit quite nice, but now emphasises just how underweight Jim still is.

Leonard doesn't rush him. They have no real place to be anyways. Leonard still has a month leave before he has to report for duty, which according to Pike will mostly be meetings about whether he's going back to finish his last year at the academy or receive his commission and a posting. Jim's months away from even attempting to be certified fit for return to duty so there's nothing but limbo before them; a long stagnant wait before they can even decide what kind of lives they want to start.

Six of them came home, five of them survived. Riley has already parted ways with Starfleet, vowing never to serve again. Anderson and Felt are still undecided, stuck in the same unending limbo Jim and Leonard are in. Leonard supposes their medical recertification exams will make that determination for them.

"Yeah," says Jim again, nodding his head this time, like he has to convince himself to leave. He's spent most of the time in medical climbing the walls (his leg's still pretty useless so he isn't going to be literally climbing anything any time soon) and now that he can leave it seems too much too soon. "Okay." He slowly inches forward until his feet connect with the floor. Shakily, like a new born calf, he shifts his weight from the bed to his feet. He wobbles a little but in the end, he's standing.

Leonard grips the door frame tighter. All he wants to do is run over there and steady Jim, make sure he doesn't stumble, but this is something Jim wants and needs to do for himself. It's five feet from the bed to the door. Leonard's close to breaking his jaw from clenching his teeth harder with every wobbly and hitched step Jim takes towards the threshold.

"Okay?" he asks as Jim finally makes it to the door.

Jim nods. Sweat's beading on his forehead and he's already tired from that small excursion.

Leonard's already second guessing if it's too soon and they haven't made it to the front door of the hospital. "Maybe we should stay another couple days?" Maybe if he voices it, Jim will agree.

"No. We're going home," says Jim with steely determination. Just to make sure Leonard understands, he steps out of the hospital room.

Leonard grabs Jim by the arm, helping to take some of the weight off of Jim's leg. Together they hobble down the hallway and through the lobby. "Are you ready for this?" Leonard asks. The car's waiting out front but so are the reporters that have been camped out there for months waiting to get a picture of the hero of the Federation. It's a circus out there.

Jim just squeezes Leonard's hand harder. It had just been them, their fellow survivors and a ship of Romulans for a little over six months. After their rescue, it was the crew of the Enterprise and then the medical staff at the hospital and visiting brass officials. This is the first time Jim's going to be out in the world at large with the general public- a public that's been clamouring to regal their hero.

The doors open and it's a mob. Security does their best to hold people back but there's just too many. It's a whirlwind of confusion and noise. Reporters are trying to get quotes they can run in this evening's news by shoving cameras and recording devices in Jim's face. Others are pushing their way to the front to just touch the man whose actions saved someone they love.

Leonard has to hang on tight, so Jim doesn't get swept away in the crowd as he pushes forward trying to get them to the car.

Jim goes pale. Everyone is screaming his name, asking him questions he has no idea how to answer. There's so much and it's so loud, all the voice merge into one overwhelming noise that he can't decipher. There are hands on him that aren't Leonard's, pushing and pulling him in directions he doesn't want to go. It's throwing his precarious balance off. He holds onto Leonard for dear life so he doesn't get swept out into the mob. His grip is so tight he can feel his fingertips breaking Leonard's skin and blood welling up. He doesn't let go though.

Everyone is so close; faces and cameras so far in his personal space he could kiss them. It's claustrophobic. All these people want something: answers, statements, apologises, pieces of Jim that he no longer has to give. They want someone who no longer exists. They're taking all the oxygen and Jim can't breathe.

Leonard has to literally shove Jim into the back of the car, slamming the door quickly behind him. "Drive, go now," order's Leonard as he watches Jim roll onto the floor gasping. He quickly slips behind Jim, clutching him tightly to his chest. "They're gone, Jim. It's just us now."

Jim doesn't respond. He just sits there limply in Leonard's arms trying to breathe.

Leonard takes a slow deep breath, in and then out. "Do you feel that, Jim?" he asks, his chest expanding and contracting in a slow steady rhythm against Jim's back. "Breathe with me. In. And out," he instructs. It takes a few minutes but eventually Jim's able to copy, synching his panic gasps into calm steady breaths in time with Leonard.

On the fourth day, Uhura comes as an unofficial liaison for the captain. It's a secondary job to checking in on her friends but she's the least intrusive person to come and ascertain Leonard's situation. Spock's put off any formal report from Leonard and has M'Benga coving sickbay- all things they're willing to do to help, but the ship needs to know how long it will be without its chief medical officer on duty.

"I'll report for duty and debrief in two days," assures Leonard. He hopes he's not lying. It's not fair to put hardship on anyone else longer than he needs.

"Okay. I'll let Spock know," she says. She hovers at the door for a moment. Leonard looks broken and haggard like he's been shut away for more than four days. More like a month, on a desert island. His hair is sticking out in tuffs, he's sporting a five o'clock shadow and his eyes are dark and red like he hasn't been sleeping. His hand hasn't stopped trembling since she entered the room. She can't even see Jim but imagines he looks just as rough. She flirts with the idea of hugging him. It will either fortify him or break him and she's not sure Leonard or Jim can handle the latter. "Remember, you have to take care of yourself too."

"I'm fine," snaps Leonard. There will be time to smooth his rough edges later. Just pack it up and shove it in a box to be examined and hashed out later; it's how he's dealt with everything else.

The box is so stuffed full now, it's threatening to explode.

"You're not," says Uhura, her voice even more gentle than usual. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." She doesn't know what she could possibly do to help, but by god, she'll try anyway she can.

Leonard tosses back another one. He's not even sure what he's drinking anymore but as long as the alcohol content is high, he doesn't much care. He's just so tired.

It's become some kind of morose game he plays- how many drinks will it take tonight. The real loser, is his liver. Normally he'd be concerned that the waitress and bartender don't even have to ask what he's drinking or that he never has to signal for another shot; they never let his glass go dry. Hell he's seen the underside of 'his' table in the early throws of morning more than he has his own apartment.

Pike slides into the booth looking sad and sympathetic and Leonard wants no part of it. He doesn't need anyone's pity. He wasn't the one that came home broken or equally as bad, didn't come home at all.

"How long do you think you can keep this up?" asks Pike. There's no condemnation in his voice only genuine concern. It makes Leonard want to punch him in the face all the more.

"Well past last call," snarls Leonard. If he wanted company he wouldn't be drinking in a dive bar at the bad end of town at two in the morning.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," says Pike with infinite patience.

"I don't know, I survived months of torture aboard the Narada. Be pretty ironic if tequila took me down now." Just the mention of that god forsaken ship makes his eyes burn with tears and his hand shake. "How did you even find me?" he grumbles taking another shot. It's not like their buddies or anything. Leonard knows Pike has a soft spot for Jim and some of that glow probably rubs off on Leonard a little but most of their interactions are professional or Jim related. Leonard's not expecting a Christmas card from the man.

"Rank has its privileges and its spies. Just like I know that after you spend all day in the hospital with Jim you come here and drink until you pass out or someone punches you out," says Pike looking hard at McCoy's scrapped knuckles. Leonard has the decency to look ashamed as he hides his hands under the table. Drunken bar fights are usually a Kirk solution to problems. "So I'll ask you again, how long can you keep going like this? How long until you make a drunken mistake when you're supposed to be acting as a physician?"

Leonard gives Pike a dirty look. Challenging his medical integrity is crossing the line. He'd never do anything to jeopardize someone by being drunk on duty. He doesn't even have patients anyways; he hasn't been certified fit for duty yet. The only one he can treat is Jim and even that he's mostly regulated to act as medical proxy rather than attending physician. "I would never." He takes an E-fifteen injection every morning when he drags his ass back to the hospital to counter act any lingering effects of the previous night for that very reason.

"Not yet," counters Pike, never breaking eye contact with Leonard. "It's just a matter of time though if you continue on this path," he warns.

Leonard shakes his head vehemently.

"You're going all day and night. The only sleep you get is if you're passed out drunk. I'm willing to bet you're barely eating. You can't go on forever like this. It's unsustainable. You're a doctor, you have to know that."

Leonard does know that. He's not even running on fumes anymore, just a chemical cocktail he's administering to himself and the promise that tomorrow, he'll stop, tomorrow will be different. It never is though. There's just not enough of Leonard left to go around and he's trying so desperately to keep it all together but it just feels like its slipping though his fingers like sand. He's been drowning himself in alcohol to take away the fear of sleeping. "I can't sleep," he confesses in a broken sob. "Every time I close my eyes all I see is that place. My dreams are nothing more than watching the crew die on repeat."

Pike shuffles over the worn leather bench seat until he's sitting beside Leonard. He has nightmares about the Narada too, and he was only there a couple of hours. He gently puts his arm around Leonard's shoulders and pulls him close. Leonard's a sobbing broken mess, curling easily into Pike's embrace. "It's going to be alright, son," he sooths.

"No it's not, I can read the medical reports. He's like that because of me," sobs Leonard. He was there, he saw what happened, hell some of it happened to him. Worse, he can read the medical reports. Jim's never going to be the same and there's nothing within Leonard's or modern medicine's power to change that. Whatever their lives should have been, it's gone now.

"He's a live because of you and I promise you, it will get better."

Pike looks so sincere and sure that Leonard wants to ask what dark horror lives in the back of his mind. Instead he sits there crying on Pike's shoulder. And Pike lets him, until long after the tears have run dry.

Leonard been past exhaustion for weeks and he was already tipsy before the captain sat down next to him. Now he's emotionally spent on top of everything else so he doesn't put up much of fight as Pike throws him in a cab. He has no idea where they're going but if Pike wants to be in charge that's good enough for Leonard. He hasn't been making the best personal decisions of late anyways, if sleeping on a sticky sawdust covered barroom floor is any indication.

Leonard's pretty much a puppet under Pike's control as they pull up to a beautiful house with an impressive view of the bay. Pike guides him out of the cab and down the long brick walk way to the front door where the Captain punches in his entrance code. It's a large spacious house that speaks of a successful career. It reminds Leonard of his parents' home in Atlanta.

"Wait here," orders Pike, leaning Leonard up against the wall as he disappears around the corner.

Leonard stands in the foyer feeling rather small and extremely out of place like an incompetent burglar spying on a future victim. The house is pristine and Leonard looks like Pike pulled him out of a gutter somewhere. Hell, Leonard's pretty sure he's been wearing the same uniform all week. He's too dirty and drunk for a place like this. Throwing up on a Captain's expensive rug is all he needs right now.

Leonard kind of looks around, but doesn't venture too far from the door. From what he can see, the place looks like something out of a magazine- beautiful but not very lived in. All the pictures on display are of starships, nothing personal except one on the piano in the living room of Pike with his arm around a happy blond woman that kind of resembles Jim's mother of all people.

"Let's get you to bed," says Pike appearing with a bottle of water in his hand.

"Who's she?" Leonard blurts, pointing to the picture. He might not have succeeded in drinking himself into oblivion but he managed to lose his ability to sensor his mouth. He's not well versed in the Captain's life but from what Jim's told him and what he can piece together from Pike's place, it doesn't seem like Pike has a family tucked away in this house.

Pike glances over at the picture. "The one that got away," he says wistfully.

Leonard cringes. He didn't mean to poke an especially sore spot.

"You need sleep."

Leonard wants to protest, to remind Pike that sleep just doesn't want to associate with Leonard anymore but he's already helping Leonard up the staircase.

Leonard opts for passive resistance instead. If he's too much of a hassle, Pike'll just throw him back in a cab and send him on his way. It doesn't really work out. The Captain just dutifully dresses Leonard, like he's his kid or something, in some sleep clothes when it becomes apparent Leonard can't manage himself. He even tucks Leonard in.

"I can't," sobs Leonard. As much as he desperately wants to close his eyes and drift off, he knows the nightmares and terrors are just waiting to pounce.

"I'll be right here," assures Pike, turning on the bedside lamp. He settles himself on top of the covers beside Leonard, book in hand.

Leonard lies there, listening to sound of paper pages turning until he actually drifts off. To his surprise, it's the morning sun shining through the windows that wakes him.

"How do you feel today?" asks Pike, placing a bookmark near the end of his book.

"You stayed all night?" asks Leonard. Pike had just started the novel when he tucked Leonard it and now the man's almost done with it.

"I said I would."

Leonard's still bone tired and wrung out but he doesn't feel like he's about to tumble off the edge of a cliff. If he could just get a couple more nights of real natural sleep, he might be able to feel human again.

"I'll make us some breakfast," says Pike, standing up and stretching. "There's some clothes in the closet that should fit you if you want to change."

Leonard complies and makes his way downstairs. Pike just stayed up all night to make sure the monsters didn't creep out of the closet, Leonard's not really in a position to argue at this point. Breakfast is quiet. What can Leonard possibly say to someone that's seen him at his absolute rock bottom? Especially when Pike owes him absolutely nothing in this life. It seems weird, but there are no words to articulate the gratitude he feels for something as simple as standing guard during the night. Leonard didn't realize how long it's been since he felt safe.

They're in the car for about twenty minutes before Leonard realizes they're not going to the hospital. In fact, they're heading in the complete opposite direction. "Hospital's the other way," he mummers like the car service doesn't know their way around town.

"Umm-hum," agrees Pike absently as he completes his reports on his PADD. The car doesn't turn around.

"I need to be at the hospital," protest Leonard a little louder. "Jim will be waking up soon and I need to be there."

"We're making a detour today. I'm going to drop you off at Dr Boyce's house."

Oh hell no. Leonard's grateful for the concern but he doesn't have the luxury of playing games. He's at the hospital before Jim wakes up and he stays until Jim goes to sleep for the night. Those are the rules. It's the unspoken promise he made to Jim and to himself and there's nothing that's going to tear them apart again. "I don't have time for whatever this is," snaps Leonard.

"You're going to make time," replies Pike with his own pent up irritation. "I'll stay with Jim at the hospital. You're going to get your shit together because you can't save anyone else if you don't put your life vest on first. I've seen too many good officers fall apart because they didn't take care of themselves. Jim's going to need a lot of help but you have to be able to give it to him and that starts by getting your ducks in a row. Philip Boyce is a good friend and a damn good psychologist."

"But..." stats Leonard though he can't really argue against anything Pike is saying. If it was anyone else, he'd give the same advice. But it's not anyone one else, it's him and Jim- Jim, who instead of worrying about his own ass, did everything in his power to look out for Leonard.

"Jim will understand," Pike assures. "This is about the long game. If you don't take care of yourself now, you're going to be too broken to help when Jim really needs you."

They pull up to a cabin style house just outside the city. Leonard reluctantly gets out of the car, glaring as Pike throws out a duffle bag full of clothing and toiletries. Clearly the captain believes Leonard will be staying more than just the morning. The car waits to drive away until after Leonard knocks on the door and Boyce answers.

"You must be McCoy," says Boyce. "Christopher said you need some help."

The fifth day brings Scotty and a bottle of whisky in hand. The Scotsman doesn't say where he acquired it and doesn't stay to share a drink. He simply hands it to Leonard and says, "I heard you might need it."

He also hands Leonard a PADD with the latest star charts, "For Jim, when he's ready," and leaves just as quickly as he came.

"I made you dinner," says Sulu on the sixth day, pushing his way past Leonard and through the door to avoid any awkward silence.

"Come in," says Leonard at a loss. It's too late since Sulu is already setting a table, not that his brain has entirely moved passed its initial shock of having the helmsmen of all people knock at his door. "What do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"Heard you could use a good meal. My husband and daughter once had the flu at the same time," says Sulu as he unpacks a plate setting for two and handful of dishes that smell delicious. "It lasted for three days. Between looking after both of them, I was exhausted. The neighbour was kind enough to bring over bowls of soup and a casserole so I didn't have to worry about making dinner. It wasn't much but one less thing to think about really made a difference."

Chicken soup isn't really a cure all in this particular case. "Jim doesn't have the flu," cautions Leonard. He's a little surprised any of the crew have stopped by. Leonard still remembers the looks of disgust and fear from the crew of the USS Michigan as he walked Jim off the ship for the last time after his breakdown on the bridge. The crew saw a captain that had cracked and put them in danger and Starfleet saw something broken and unsalvageable- both happy to be rid of their problem rather than try to understand it or take responsibility for it. This time the crew got a front row seat to seeing someone they live with savagely beat another being half to death with his bare fists.

Leonard's used to the rollercoaster ride. Even though the majority of the ride is fun, there's still the occasional uphill section to contend with. Most other people don't have the patience for it, once they figure out that this is Jim and Leonard's status quo, they're more than happy to steer clear of the potential shit show. Leonard's gotten good at working around including people in their lives for just that reason. He's been waiting for Spock to send him a dismissal notice since they got back to the ship.

"I know," says Sulu. It's poignant and they both know he's referring to more than just Jim not having the flu. "Family helps each other out when we need it the most, even if it's just bring dinner over or fixing a communications signal."