Author's Note: Hi! This will be somewhat of a rambling author's note. Yesterday was a holiday (Happy Belated Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate!), and today I'm recuperating. I'm operating on a few hours of sleep on top of that. But, in the spirit of thankfulness, I want to express my gratitude to those of you who are reading and reviewing. I began this story, not sure of the response it would receive, only certain of the passion and artistic expression I was putting into it. This story is maybe a little more personal to me than other stories I've written, so I am truly grateful for each and every reader and review. It means a lot. :)

I hope you enjoy this next chapter. It was a tougher one to write, especially a few things in the beginning. I'm thrilled to share the second scene...I know it took awhile, but we will see Spock. :)

My beta, MissBAMF, really went the extra mile on this one and guided me through a few rough patches with this chapter. I know I keep saying it, but only because it's true - I can't thank her enough. I really appreciate her patience and generosity!

Again, thank you for reading! I am not sure when the next update will be, so I appreciate your patience. I can promise I'm doing my best. :)

oOo

And If I Stand Next To You

Chapter 6

i'll get over my own hell (to save you)

oOo

"Len, can't you set that aside for a little bit longer?" Nora called from the couch.

Jim glanced up from his own breakfast, Nora's gentle reprimand the kind that would make almost anyone listen.

"Maybe until James is done with his breakfast?" she added, sending Jim a smile.

Jim glanced around the room, shocked to find that everyone else had finished eating. He'd be the first to admit that he always ate slowly these days, finding food either distasteful or disinteresting. But that meant they had been waiting on him. His shock intensified when he realized that they'd all stopped talking at some point.

Confused and mad at himself for not noticing earlier, he attempted to rationalize their silence to himself. The best thing he could come up with was this—they were too nice to him, afraid to hurt his feelings.

They were too nice to rush him, too nice to keep talking around him when he couldn't even communicate while he ate, and too nice to nudge him along when he'd ultimately fallen into some sort of daze, a world of his own. Jim hated that most of the time, when people were 'too nice' to him, it was because they pitied him. He didn't want pity. Didn't need it.

Jim knew he should hurry. Bones had to be strangling Jim in his mind by now, impatient to get his hands on Jim's injury and fix it. But when Jim considered chewing and swallowing at a faster pace, his stomach rolled. He kept his eyes off his breakfast, the thought of which now made him nauseous. He couldn't let himself become that much of a nuisance to Bones or to Nora. He had to find something else to keep his attention.

That something else was a seven years old with her nose in a book. Jojo must have sensed Jim's eyes on her, because she spared a glance at him over the top of her page. She made such a cute picture that Jim winked at her, surprising even himself. He just didn't do things like that anymore, hardly having enough energy to take a damn bath. Plus, winking at anyone required the 'Happy Gene' and he was all out of those these days.

Her eyes crinkled with laughter, reminding Jim of Bones when the doctor had next to nothing to worry about. Except, Bones sometimes smiled, but he didn't laugh much anymore. Apparently, he was all out of the Happy Gene, too. Jim had sucked it right out of him.

Wanting to distance himself from the dark turn his thoughts had taken, Jim looked across the room at the couch. Nora was sitting there, knitting, a quiet hobby she'd always enjoyed. Though she worked fast, Jim had no doubt she was also taking advantage of the time to observe her family, missing nothing. Jim felt a pang in his chest. His mother had never been like that. Winona never sat in the living room with Jim long enough to even leave an imprint in the cushion. While Nora missed nothing, Winona had missed everything.

Head down and studious, Bones poured over his device. He paid no attention to his mother, or to Jim, for that matter—but he was sitting on the couch, near Jim.

Since Bones' apology—or, rather Jim's ugly man cry—a little of the tension had eased between them. Jim couldn't help but think that Bones was actually leaving him little clues that things really were okay between them, like crumbs along the trail in Hansel and Gretel, like in a fairytale, like…

Jim stopped himself right there.

Like a fairytale? Where had that thought even come from? He understood Bones' concern for his mental and emotional health, but maybe Jim should refuse the next dosage of whatever anti-anxiety drug he'd given him, especially if it gave Jim weird thoughts about fairytales.

He had the right to do that, didn't he? Refuse treatment?

"Hmm? I need to get through your notes from this morning, mama, as well as Jim's most recent blood tests," Bones muttered, head still bent.

Jim's hand went limp against his plate. He wondered just how thorough Nora had been with her notes this morning.

He twirled his fork in his hand, uneasiness spreading throughout his body. Nora was an exceptional nurse, observational skills just as exceptional. More than likely, she'd written down everything.

"Hmph," Nora said, setting her knitting on her lap. After giving Jim and Jojo a look, she leaned in towards Bones and spoke in an urgent whisper. "Leonard, James looks like he's going to fall over any minute. A small gust of wind could knock him right over, the poor boy. I'm not sure he can take much more."

Jim quirked a brow in surprise, forgetting his own anxiety when Nora's flair for the dramatics emerged.

Bones' head snapped up, eyes widening in concern. "What? He does? He looks like what?" he asked, looking from Nora to Jim. Without waiting for an answer, Bones' eyes perused him from head to toe, suddenly frowning. "You look a little peaked, Jim. Why didn't anyone tell me put my notes away?"

Jim rolled his eyes, this type of selective hearing from Bones hardly new to him.

"And if this is the case - " Bones began.

Nora sighed loudly.

" - we should get moving..." Bones continued, his voice fading at the end, Jojo beginning an infectious giggle.

When Bones looked at them in bewilderment, Jim couldn't help but snort.

"Uncle Jim…" Jojo giggled harder. It was then that Jim finally gave in to a wide grin, if not for his best girl.

Bones gave Jim a second look. "Did I miss something?" Bones asked slowly.

Jim suppressed an all out laugh, since for one, it would hurt, and two, it would sound like a sick, hacking and voiceless Gorn, not that he had any experience with those. But as he held his breath, it may have hurt worse than if he'd just succumbed to that laugh, after all.

"Jim, are ya sure I didn't miss something?" Bones asked, frowning, moving closer to Jim, his eyes probing.

Suddenly, any part of his brain that wasn't already focused on Bones, honed in on the man. It was like he was touch starved, honestly. Jim needed his friend like someone needed air, wanted nothing more than the comfort he knew was there and a respite from his shame.

But then Bones raised his hand, holding a tricorder.

Jim's bubble completely burst.

Bones had probably kept that damn device close and within reach this entire time. Bones was sitting near Jim not as his best friend, but as his doctor.

Jim hastily backtracked his thoughts. He simply couldn't do this to himself anymore, feeling his cheeks reddening in frustration, knowing that he'd done enough already to humiliate himself.

"No, you didn't miss a thing, Leonard," Nora chuckled, answering for Jim, perhaps even intentionally getting the attention off of him. Jim wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. "But, maybe we did. You're very dedicated and concerned about our James. Carry on as you always do, my dear boy."

Both of Bones' brows raised before he shrugged in resignation. "If you're sure, mama."

"I'm sure," she said quietly. "We admire you for your diligence, Leonard. It's to be commended."

Bones cleared his throat, face flushing at the compliment. "I'm doin' what I should do, that's all." Bones set the tricorder down before looking at Jim, his expression professional.

Jim had already steeled himself for this change but it didn't stop the disappointment he felt.

"You have three fractured ribs, Jim," Bones said. "The healing process will take some time."

Jim had just enough self-control and self-worth left not to glare at the small inanimate object at Bones' side.

Bones took a breath. "I can give you a mild pain reliever while we use the regen units but I think that the main thing you'll be dealing with is your fatigue, and simply staying awake."

Jim blinked at him. Bones couldn't possibly be serious. Jim had to talk to Spock as soon as possible, which meant as soon as his ribs were healed.

Bones furrowed his brow. "I'll do whatever it takes to get this done as fast as possible, Jim. I know talking with Spock is important to ya, but if you fall asleep..."

"But, Daddy," Jojo whined. "You promised that Uncle Jim wouldn't fall asleep..."

Bones paused, smiling kindly at his daughter. "I did promise you, Jojo, and more than likely, he won't until sometime after I fix his ribs. It would be a nice way to help Uncle Jim rest, Jojo, even if he does fall asleep. You can always finish reading to him when he wakes up, alright?"

"But why can't I stay?" Jojo interjected worriedly, chewing on her bottom lip.

Bones glanced at Jim as if he wanted his permission to explain. Jim nodded.

"It will be painful for Jim," Bones said carefully.

"Oh," Jojo said, voice small.

"And he has to lie still for a while," Bones said, not looking at Jim. "It won't be comfortable for Jim," Bones continued quietly. "And because of that, Jojo, I can't allow you to stay."

"But I want to stay," she said, chin lifting.

"No, Jojo," Bones said, shaking his head.

"I want to help Uncle Jim. Like you do, Daddy," she insisted, voice morphing into a whine.

As sweet as that was, Jim whole-heartedly agreed with Bones. It wasn't that he thought Jojo couldn't handle it. He actually thought she could, but what if it bothered her even a little bit? What is she couldn't go to sleep, thinking of it?

What if she had nightmares, for God's sakes? What if Jocelyn added that to her agenda against Bones? Jim didn't want any of that hanging over his head.

"Jojo, I'm proud of you for wanting to help, but I don't think your mother would approve," Bones said gently. "Your grandmother will take you upstairs to play a game, but I will make sure that she brings you down when I'm done. Jim? Is this alright with you?"

Relieved that Bones had wisely handled the situation, Jim gave Jojo a small smile. He was the luckiest damned uncle in the universe to have her as his niece. Bones' plan was perfect.

"Good," Bones said, looking relieved. He rubbed his face, hand holding his chin while he looked down at his device. After a few seconds, he resumed typing. "Jim, I also think your body is sending you a message. You'll need to listen to it and rest when it tells you to."

And with that, Jim changed his mind. Bones' plan wasn't perfect. It was flawed, all flawed.

Jim glanced down at the half-eaten pancake on his plate, desperately hoping it would ease the frustration he was feeling. Because, dammit, he'd actually eaten more than one pancake. That was a victory, wasn't it?

Instead, it stared back at him in silent accusation. Bones began to talk, but his voice faded into the background.

A minute ago, Jim had been eating, actually eating, and savoring the taste instead of gagging. He'd felt good about himself, a feeling that he hadn't truly experienced for weeks now except for in therapy, after grueling hours of hard work.

But now...all of that stopped, his self worth unraveling.

Six or seven bites were left at most, but just one would push him over the edge. It wasn't that he was even full. He simply couldn't finish and, disheartened, his impending wastefulness washed coldly over him, drawing the nausea clear up into his throat. He couldn't stop the feeling, couldn't prevent any of it because, as it was with everything else, he had no control.

Feeling worse about food than he'd had in years, Jim pressed a fist to his mouth, fighting to keep down what he had just eaten, never realizing that Bones had fallen silent, watching him.

He shivered as he contemplated the waste he'd made, his breaths excruciating as they stirred in his chest. He hated wasting food, so he ate everything he put on his plate. Always. Since Tarsus, he'd never been able to handle anyone else throwing away an uneaten meal, either, at times, his behavior putting him in awkward situations.

It had meant life or death for Jim over a decade ago, and one couldn't just erase that sort of thing from memory. Things still hadn't changed that much for him, as bizarre as that sounded even to him. He'd been poor in health then, too, just as he was now. Jim took another ragged breath, this one deliberate, fuller, aching the entire way. It jarred his ribs, the pain spreading everywhere, deep into his marrow and heart. This time, he welcomed it.

Pain made him move, made him act. Always.

Gritting his teeth, Jim squinted down at his plate. He stabbed a piece of his food with his fork in aggressive stubbornness. Where was his backbone? Gone? Just like everything else?

Jim chewed on his lip, still not bringing the fork to his mouth. The food probably wouldn't even stay in his stomach, but he needed something else to think about, to drive away his ghosts.

Jim couldn't stand or even deal with his own wastefulness right now, not with everything else stacked against him. Why he had even asked for a second pancake was beyond him. Sure he'd been hungry. Or so he'd thought, anyway, but he'd known at the back of his mind that he wouldn't be able to handle it.

As guilty as wasting food made him feel, something else made him feel even worse. Jim honestly wasn't sure that this—eating—had been worth seeing Jojo's face light up or Bones' relief that he wasn't headed for starvation.

He hated himself even more for letting them both down.

"Jim, you did good," Bones said. "You ate more than I expected."

Jim stared bitterly at the food, lip curling into a subtle snarl he didn't bother hiding. Bones' medication was doing this to him. Bones' medication was doing a lot of things to him. Bones' medication, the damn drug therapy, was brutal. There wasn't any other word that could describe it. It was brutal, making him dependent upon everyone. It was—

He caught himself, snapping back his snarl like he'd reached a cliff's edge or touched something hot with his hand. Dammit, what was he doing? As terrible as it sounded even to him, he'd been laying the blame directly at Bones' feet for the nausea—and more.

Guilt pricked at him. Bones' drug therapy was keeping him alive. Maybe even stopping him from regressing. Bones had hinted as much right before the first round of injections.

Jim closed his eyes, sickness swelling in his stomach not related to the food. What was wrong with him? Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes ago, he'd read Bones' apology. This therapy was helping him. He should be happy, right?

It wasn't Bones fault that Jim felt so ill, but it was Jim's own fault that he'd promised something he couldn't handle in the first place.

"Jim..."

Jim swallowed bitterly, acknowledging Bones like he should. From the corner of his eye, he caught Jojo biting her lip, peering at Jim through her lashes, nervous.

"Jim, it's okay," Bones reaffirmed, voice soothing Jim like he would a child. "We'll put the food away and get started."

Maybe some other day that would've bothered Jim. But today it was comforting, if only a little bit.

With Bones so close to him, it was nothing for the doctor to reach over in an effort to grab his tray. Jim still gripped his fork, unwilling to let go of the idea of finishing absolutely everything.

"Hey," Bones murmured in his ear.

Jim gripped his fork, knuckles whitening, his own strength surprising him.

"Don't force yourself to eat, Jimbo. Not for me or anyone else," Bones whispered, "We want you to be able to keep this down. Right, Jojo?" he added in a louder voice.

Jojo's head bobbed up and down as she smiled sweetly at Jim, expression almost mimicking that of her father's. A lump formed in Jim's throat when Bones' mom put down her knitting and watched him with concern.

All eyes were fixed upon him, waiting, the room heavy with expectation, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He wasn't even sure what he could do.

But then Bones moved, not waiting for Jim after all, and placed the device on Jim's tray. Confused, Jim looked up at him.

"Before I do anything else, I want to know exactly what's on your mind, Jim," Bones said firmly. "In particular, why you're so determined to make yourself sick when you don't have to."

That was a tall order, one Jim didn't think he could manage, at least not tactfully. And definitely not in front of Nora or Jojo.

"I won't know how to help you if you don't talk to me, Jim. I think..." Bones gave a strangled sigh, frustration falling from him in waves. "I don't want us to keep miscommunicating with each other like we have been doing, Jimbo. Especially when it comes to your health and comfort."

Jim glanced down at the darkened screen. Bones may be right, but Jim had no idea how he was supposed to tell Bones that the wasted food and this—being so damn sick—was something he connected with his time on Tarsus, an instinctual behavior he knew was stupid and useless, but nevertheless, couldn't get rid of. They'd already discussed that event before, what seemed like ages ago, so it wouldn't be a total shock. And maybe it had always been like this for Jim since the warp core, even before his system had been able to handle solids. It just hadn't hit him until now. His therapist had never picked up on it because it simply wasn't in his file, and Pike...

Pike wasn't here to call him on shit like this. He wasn't here to insist that Jim's records be fully revealed to the counselor. And maybe...maybe Bones hadn't thought of it. Jim could hardly fault him, Bones having more than just Jim to worry about, after all. He had a kid, a family. It was way more than Jim had.

Tears springing to his eyes, Jim quickly wiped at them. Dammit, why couldn't he just stop with the waterworks, already? It'd gotten past the point of embarrassment.

"Jim," Bones whispered, turning his body so that Jojo couldn't see Jim. "Do you need a moment?"

Jim shook his head, sniffling once, regretting that it wasn't as quiet as he'd thought it'd be.

"Are ya sure?" Bones asked, peering at him in concern.

Jim nodded sharply, slightly annoyed at being asked twice over every little thing he decided to do.

"Okay," Bones said, shoulders dropping, noting Jim's shortness. "I want to help you, but I can't do it on my own."

Jim wanted to ignore the soft cloth Bones handed him to wipe his eyes with, but he didn't. He swallowed his pride and used the damn thing, feeling a little guilty for his earlier show of annoyance.

"When I do things on my own, look where that gets us. An abandoned glass of tea," Bones said. "I can do better than that for you, Jim, but only if I know what you're thinkin'."

Bones may have been trying to make light of the sensitive issue between them, which made sense because he'd apologized, but Jim still reacted.

Fork clattering to the plate, Jim typed a reply before he could think twice about it.

It spilled, anyway, or don't you remember.

Bones' eyes flickered darkly while reading Jim's argumentative reply.

"Jim, I know it did, but it wasn't your fault," Bones said, mouth thinning. "And those tremors will get better, Jim, I promise."

Jim rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. It always came back to those, didn't it?

Jim's moved his hand along the PADD before he lost his nerve.

Why was I the one who was allowed to come back? Why not Pike, Bones?

Why me?

Why couldn't you just let me just die, Bones? Why?

But he didn't write that.

Instead, he was as honest as he could be at this time. As honest as he would allow himself to be.

I don't want to waste it. I hate wasting food.

Jim tried not to think why Bones' expression instantly softened and filled with an understanding that only he could have. Nor did he thoroughly consider that Bones had connected his low health to his thoughts about food, all without Jim having to reply to a single thing, or that Bones may be mentally kicking himself because he hadn't recognized it sooner, and thus, saved Jim more hurt.

"I'll wrap it up and put it in the fridge," Bones asserted. "When you want to eat again, we'll reheat it Jim. Nothing will be wasted."

Jim stared blankly at him for a moment, the idea a damn ingenious one.

He typed, Why didn't I think of that?

"I think the medication is working," Bones said, regarding Jim with compassion. "I know you're upset about some things, Jim, and rightly so, but without the medication it would be even worse."

Though he didn't like it at all, Jim nodded in agreement, not wanting to look like a total idiot.

"Here, allow me," Nora offered up, coming over to them and whisking the tray with his plate away. "I'll take care of it, Leonard, so you can tend to Jim. Jojo, come with me. We'll grab some sweet iced tea and head upstairs."

"Thanks, mama," Bones said, smiling at them both as they left the room.

Although it made no sense, Jim felt somewhat exposed without the tray and quickly crossed his arms. The sharp movement cause him to hunch, drawing in on himself.

A hand was on his arm almost instantly, anchoring him.

"Jim, ya alright?" Bones' voice broke through, laden with concern.

Jim ghosted his own hand over the spot on his side that bothered him the most.

Bones frowned, letting go. "We shouldn't wait any longer."

Jim froze. If he had to go back to the hospital...

The thought stopped there. He couldn't even think about that without wanting to cry again, adrenaline surging forward because of it, trying to prepare him.

Bones held the device within Jim's reach. "I know it'll be tough, that you're already uncomfortable, but ride it out for me, okay?"

Bones held the device steady as Jim typed his concern in one simple word.

Hospital.

Jim had never known waiting for an answer could be so excruciating. Bones seemed to take an absurd five seconds to read one word before replying to Jim's question.

"Given that your problem is what it is, Jim, no. No hospital," Bones finally said, sweet relief pouring through Jim's veins despite his general discomfort. "I have everything we need, and Jojo is going to read to you after it's done. Remember?"

Jim scowled, kicking himself for forgetting that already.

"I came as prepared as I possibly could and the hospital did drop off an extra order early this morning," Bones paused, hesitating, "an order that I requested."

What? Jim mouthed.

"What was troubling you just now, when we took away your tray?" Bones asked, sounding like a shrink.

And just like that, Jim was annoyed again.

He had to wonder when, exactly, he became obligated to tell Bones everything he was feeling just because he didn't have his voice.

When Bones' brows shot to his hairline Jim realized his resentment must have shown on his face.

"I'm sorry, Jim," Bones hastily added. "I shouldn't overstep but...I want to help if I can."

Jim rolled his eyes and waved his hand towards the PADD. Bones gave him a tight smile, but held it for Jim while he typed.

I felt naked. Like you unclothed me and left me for the world to see.

This time, Bones rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Jim, could you be more dramatic?"

When Bones swore, Jim looked around the room for Jojo, forgetting that she wasn't there. Shaking his head at himself, he resumed typing.

No problem. Would you like me to man cry again or something else—

"Give me that," Bones scowled, yanking the device away from his fingertips. "No, I don't want you to man cry again, you moron, unless…" Bones suddenly looked nervous, "unless that's something you want to do, I mean, then that's okay, Jim. You can cry, I won't judge or get mad, but no I don't think you have to—" he broke off, sighing in exasperation, Jim not even remembering the last time Bones looked this jittery. "Just," he inhaled through his nostrils, "hang on for a minute. I need to get a few things, but I'll be right back."

Smirking at Bones' sputtering, Jim couldn't help but lean his head back against the chair, slightly more relaxed than before. His eyes slid shut. He made no effort to open them. He was exhausted, his body sinking so deeply into the chair that he thought nothing when his head rolled to the side, hands going limp in his lap. He may have even dozed off for awhile, because the next thing Jim knew, a hand brushed through his hair.

"Hey," Bones urged softly. "Stay with me, okay? You get to stay put and relax while I get things ready, but I don't want you completely disoriented when we start. You do want to talk with Spock, right?"

Jim peeled his eyes open, seeing two Bones' instead of one.

Great, just what he needed. Two mother-hens.

Squinting, Jim rubbed his eyes until his vision cleared and he realized Bones was watching him with that same caution and pity. It was a look Jim had seen on his face countless times over the past twenty-four hours, one he absolutely hated Just like that, all of Jim's former mirth and relaxation was gone, and all because of one look.

"If you need anything, and I'm turned around or just not paying attention, press this," Bones said, grasping Jim's right forearm before putting a small, circular device in the palm of Jim's hand.

Jim wrapped his fingers around it, feeling the ridges of a button, grateful Bones had thought of this small thing to set him at ease. He didn't think he'd need anything but he nodded, warily watching while Bones reclined Jim's chair at forty-five degrees and set up a computer and the regen units near him.

Jim forced himself to pay attention to every little thing Bones was doing. If he didn't stay awake, how was he going to do anything as simple as talking to Spock? Bones wasn't going to play dirty when it came to Jocelyn. Even if Bones was thinking about it, he wouldn't play that way. Jim could see it on his face, hear it in his voice without even asking him about Jocelyn, and Jim knew why.

Jojo was hurting enough.

Bones didn't want her witnessing an ongoing fight between her parents. In Bones' mind, that would be worse than anything else. Jim didn't want Jojo to hurt more, either, and he had plans. Jim would do all that he could to stop Jocelyn, going as far as involving the last person Bones would ever expect to fight his battles for him.

"I'll need to take your shirt off for this, Jim," Bones said. "Good news is that this chair is heated, and it's warming up already."

Jim lifted a brow in surprise.

"You know Eleanora McCoy. She likes being prepared," Bones shrugged.

Jim vaguely nodded, recalling two closets in the house filled to the brim with extra blankets, water, pillows, boots, a hammer and nails, a set of knives, medical supplies, and who knew what else.

Bones starting to tug at Jim's shirt, pulling it upwards. "Well, my mama purchased this a year ago, saying she was getting up in age and wanted a decent chair that could help her in case she became an invalid. I wouldn't mind having one or two of these in medbay."

Jim couldn't imagine Nora ever being off her feet but he did appreciate her preparedness. And he'd approve an order of a hundred of these chairs in a heartbeat if Bones liked them so much.

Bones halted his movements, narrowing his eyes when Jim lifted his arm a few inches, wincing. Bones just shook his head. "I think I'll just cut the damn shirt instead of putting you through undue pain, Jim." He gently guided Jim's arm back down. "You're not attached to this shirt, are ya?"

Jim shook his head.

"Good," Bones said, turning around. He turned back around in seconds, holding a simple, utilitarian pair of scissors, face serious, cocking an eye at Jim. "Hold still, this could be dangerous."

Jim rolled his eyes a little.

"You know, for not being able to talk right now, you're a real smart ass," Bones muttered, sounding irritated.

Jim swallowed nervously.

Bones saw, stilling his movements. "Jim, can I continue?"

Jim nodded, swallowing again, his nervousness only disappearing when Bones pulled his hands back and discarded the pieces which were once his shirt.

But then Bones returned with the regen units, all business, reminding Jim that he was still helpless and vulnerable.

"Feeling warm yet?" Bones asked, holding one, hesitating for Jim to answer.

Jim nodded, heat already seeping into his back, spreading to his chest.

"Good. Now, you know the drill. Breathe and don't move," Bones frowned, adjusting the chair until Jim was almost flat on his back, then set the unit on Jim's chest. "Keep that button in your hand, so I can know if you're okay or not when I'm not here—"

Jim's finger twitched on the button, causing a shrill of alarm.

He looked wide-eyed at Bones. Was he seriously going to just...leave? Leave Jim here with the pain monsters? Alone?

Bones' lips thinned as he watched the computer and then glanced at Jim. "Jim, I'm not going anywhere," Bones said, squeezing his arm, drawl thickening. "I'm going to stay with you as much as possible. And if I do have to leave for a minute, maybe to check on Jojo, my mama will be here instead, alright?"

Jim's eyes fluttered shut, but it took a good moment before his heart settled into a steadier, slower beat.

Jim swallowed down another lump, opening his eyes and gratefully looking at Bones for setting him straight again. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him. He'd done this all before, even without a painkiller. Of course Bones wouldn't just leave.

"Good, and now that your heart is being a little more reasonable, hotshot," Bones said in a dry voice, one that instantly reminded Jim of the Enterprise, a cranky Bones in his sickbay. It gave him an even greater sense of calm. "I'll give you the mild pain reliever and we'll begin."

In a few minutes, the units placed over his chest, his torso strapped to the chair, Jim began to feel the silent, powerful grind of bones knitting.

The pain was mind-boggling, and he had nothing but the damn button in his hand to press.

Jim clenched his empty hand into a fist, nails digging into his palm until it hurt. His arm barely moved but Bones fixed a fierce scowl on him.

Jim steeled himself for a scolding.

But didn't get one.

"It's pretty painful, huh?" Bones remarked quietly, moving a chair so he could sit beside Jim.

Jim's heart skipped a beat, his best friend's expression open and soft as he settled himself into the chair. Bones was the epitome of confidence, his gentler bedside manner emerging when he clasped Jim's hand. Without a voice, without the ability to express himself, Jim simply was not.

"Squeeze my hand when it hurts, alright?" Bones suggested in a soft voice. "It'll help."

Jim nodded, Bones comforting him like this in sickbay not new to Jim. Jim had even done so for Bones once or twice. Jim cringed at that thought. To say that he never handled it well when Bones was under the weather or injured was an understatement. Jim's throat closed just thinking of it.

The ensuing bells and whistles were loud enough to wake up the neighbors' dog. Bones arched a brow, alternating his gaze between Jim and the computer screen.

"I think we're in a pickle," Bones said after a pause, the lines of his face deepening.

Jim exhaled a slow and shallow breath, wishing he was not the sickly man he really was, unable to speak, wearing a damn bag to collect his urine.

"Wouldn't you agree?" Bones asked quietly.

Jim knew perfectly well that Bones was talking about the things they still needed to discuss, the buildup of tension since the warp core, because of the warp core. And this, the ridiculous way Jim set off the bells and whistles. Jim agreed they were stuck in a metaphoric sense, but he responded with absolutely nothing. It was better that way. He didn't even spare a single blink.

Bones hardly moved, either. "Hmm, interesting," Bones said slowly.

After another long moment, Bones leaned back. He blew out a rough breath, spare hand rubbing his chin, a pensive look on his face.

"I can't have your heart racing like that again. Not now, Jim," Bones said with a shake of his head. "Your body has been under enough strain already. It doesn't need more, it can't take much more, actually, but we need to talk."

Panicking, Jim's eyes widened. Talk? Now?

Jim was hardly ready for that.

When the alarms sounded for a third time, Jim wanted to hide.

Bones sent him a pointed look. Face warming, Jim set his jaw, and in his mind, crawled under the chair. With a blanket.

Bones sighed and released his hand, Jim's fingers instantly growing cold. In fact, his entire body felt chilled to its core when Bones stood, putting physical space between them as he walked over to another computer.

Jim squinted his eyes at first, wanting to see what Bones was typing. It was a futile effort, Bones' back barring Jim's line of sight.

Resigned that he'd have to accept whatever it was that was coming, Jim stared up at the ceiling. What was Bones doing? It wasn't like he could sedate Jim to get through this. Hell, they couldn't even talk to each other. There probably wasn't much that Bones could say to him without Jim's heart rate skyrocketing.

They were at a pathetic standstill.

Jim began to count as the time crept forward, faltering almost as soon as he began when the pain got to him. He groaned, the sound but a whisper throughout the room. He fought the urge to shift his body, even if just an inch. His finger twitched but he drew it away from the button. He wasn't being a good patient, not that he could help it, but he would put his best foot forward to make things easier for Bones.

Jim gritted his teeth, the regen unit beginning a round in a new place, barely noticing the footsteps and the rustle of Bones' clothing beside him.

Bones cleared his throat. The pain fought for his focus, the situation with Bones fighting just as hard for his attention. Wanting someone to blame, Jim looked away from the ceiling and accusingly at his best friend.

This was all Bones' fault. If Bones could have just remained his doctor, Jim would be miserable but calm doing this wretched regeneration business.

He'd be miserable and mostly alone, things nearly the same and as uncomplicated as they could be.

All Bones' fault.

"So, I shut off the alarms for now, but I'll see them on my PADD. Meanwhile, this is what we'll do," Bones asserted evenly, sinking down into the chair, grabbing Jim's hand.

Jim didn't give this time. Holding back wasn't easy, because everything in Jim wanted some form of comfort, but he'd had it with his uncontrollable, physical reactions. Though he really was touched starved, he didn't think Bones holding his hand was going to help him get through this painful, regeneration process - or anything else - at all.

Bones tightened his grip. Fingers stiff, Jim still refused to give but the doctor didn't seem to mind. In fact, Bones' expression never even cracked.

"Since you can't talk because the drug therapy affected your vocal chords, and I can't talk," Bones said, pausing, "we can't talk about the things we need to because the thought of doing that sends your heart rate through the roof, we'll just...do this...use our hands."

Jim arched a brow, the idea a little too vague not to smirk.

"Yes...hands. Get your mind out of the gutter, Jimbo." Bones rolled his eyes. "I'll stay right here, until I can take the damn regen units off your chest."

Jim wondered if Bones had lost it. His chest felt like it was being forged together by a meat grinder, the pain reaching almost every nerve in his body.

"Like this, Jim," said Bones quietly, giving Jim's hand a light squeeze. "Not goin' anywhere."

Jim began to understand. It was a way for Jim to communicate. For Bones to communicate. It was something that had symbolized a simple comfort for both of them in the past, just like it could now.

And without it, without Bones, his best friend, Jim realized that his world was irrevocably broken.

Still, Jim was an idiot. Bones, too, because Jim certainly wasn't going to place all the blame on himself for this mess they'd gotten themselves into.

"Jim?" Bones asked in a worried, soul crushing whisper.

Jim gave Bones the only smile he could. Worn and weak, he hoped Bones would understand this time.

His hand relaxed, accepting Bones' humble offer of friendship and comfort.

oOo

Spock did not regret cancelling his meetings today, but the face staring back at him with a wane and pitiful smile was not the face of the man he had seen three days prior. Indeed, it was an even thinner, paler face he had not been expecting at all. Dark circles under his dulled, sunken eyes, this man was a stranger. Had it not been for the blonde hair in a familiar cut, he may not have recognized Jim, his Captain, his friend.

Surely it had not just been the drug therapy. As Spock had not witnessed the administration of the drugs himself, he found it difficult to believe that the series of injections had caused this abrupt of a change.

Hey, Spock.

"Captain," Spock said after a three second pause, instantly ashamed of the hesitation. Jim's appearance should not have such a detrimental effect on him. Except it did, just like his death.

Jim winced.

I know. I look like shit.

"I apologize for my delayed greeting," Spock said immediately. "It was not my intention to infer your appearance was less than acceptable."

Jim sank back in his chair and rolled his eyes.

Come on. Just say it. Humor the sick man who was dragged to Georgia by his mother-hen.

"You look...fatigued," Spock said, deciding on flattery, uncertain how to respond to Jim's usage of the term, 'mother-hen.'

It's shit, Spock. That's the word you want.

"I believe..." Spock paused, seeing Jim blink his eyes as if he were in a daze. "Would you prefer we speak at another time?"

Jim's eyes suddenly widened, shoulders pulling back, looking to be in great discomfort as he attempted to straighten his posture.

Jim typed, movements awkward, hands wracked with tremors, disappointment washing over Spock upon seeing them.

bNo.m.

"Jim, you are not well," Spock pressed after he read the short, mistyped reply, worry blooming in his side, images of Jim's lifeless eyes in the warp core dancing in front of him

As distressing as it was that Jim seemed incapable of handling this conversation, Spock had already received a warning from Doctor McCoy about Jim's health. Not wanting to be the cause of more distress, he fingered the comm on his lap, preparing to send a message of his concern to McCoy. To his knowledge, McCoy was not in the same room as Jim in his desire to give Jim privacy. Spock had his doubts that Jim should be left alone at all.

Jim swallowed, his laryngeal prominence bobbing nervously. He shook his head, opening his mouth in a wordless plea.

Please, Spock. No.

"Very well," Spock agreed, ignoring his logic in favor of Jim's wishes.

Jim's eyes closed briefly before he gave Spock another small smile.

Itm 2will onlyy take a mminutre, beccfausee Ik had aw date wwith thyhe pain jmonsters not 2 llong agoo. Yyuu knnnow how cllingy tgy can bee.

Wanting to hide his sadness that Jim's tremors had indeed been triggered, Spock replied in the same written manner.

You are referring to the regeneration units. You were injured?

Spock found it rather difficult to hide his concern, resist the instinct to react and defend.

Jim bit his lip, clearly hesitating. Ffrackrud riibs.

Apparently, this had occurred during the time between Doctor McCoy's final message to Spock this morning and this very conversation with Jim.

Jim, how did you sustain this injury?

I criiedc, Sopockk. Jim paused, bringing a hand to cover his mouth. P i k e, he added slowly.

Spock blinked, now concerned that Jim should even be attending therapy if the force of crying caused this painful injury to occur. He also wished to inquire about Dr. McCoy's thoughts on the matter.

Jim glanced up from the keyboard briefly, and seeing Spock's reaction, arched a brow.

Yeeah, suucks. I'' guuesw I'''m ... frragjil?

Obviously, Jim was inferring to a fragility not only in the physical sense, but emotional as well.

The frightening image of Jim's still face behind glass flashed before Spock's eyes again, an image he could not deliver himself from, despite countless attempts of meditation.

Either way, fragile was something James T. Kirk was not.

"Before our last mission, I recall one ensign fracturing a rib when she contracted the Andorian flu," Spock remarked. "Another fracturing two ribs from the act of coughing."

Jim looked up, this third smile the warmest.

Thank you, Jim mouthed.

"What troubles you, Jim?" Spock asked without warning, testing Jim.

Spock was not surprised when Jim tried clenching his hands in an effort to control them. He patiently waited, sensing that Jim would only suffer from his interference.

Licking his lips, a look of steady concentration on his face, Jim began to type. Jocceelyn wgangts Jnojo. Take hrer aaway froium bBones. She';ps syuuspicious.

Spock immediately calculated every possible, influencing factor. She suspects Doctor McCoy has misstepped. In Starfleet, and in regards to you.

Eyes wide, Jim nodded.

That information is classified.

Shh''e trryinng. It'sss why Bonmes came. L'llawyr. Jim hesitated. She'll Usre annhything Bbonessss does as an erxccus...the waay he drivves, eats, huugss Jooji...And Bones doekksn't kknow that I knoow. He's...prottectinhng.

He is shielding his patient from undo stress. You, Jim, Spock countered.

Which could have proved to be the doctor's greatest error.

"I will do what I am able, Jim, to prevent Doctor McCoy from losing his child," Spock said softly, knowing it would be the first thing he would do once he was done speaking with Jim.

Jim's eyes shone with relief, tears pooling. Thank you, he mouthed, but in the process, it quickly became a wide yawn.

"You must rest," Spock said.

Jim frowned.

"There is something else troubling you. Jim."

Jim shook his head once, then nodded.

"I do not have any other appointments, Jim. I will wait..."

Jim made a face. Youu cleared yojur schhuile for me?

"Indeed."

Wow, Jim mouthed, breaking into another yawn. He closed his eyes, and as if he'd forgotten Spock was there, and rested his head against the chair.

"Jim," Spock called.

Jim's brows rose without opening his eyes.

"Jim," Spock said louder, debating with himself just to let the captain sleep.

Jim's eyes shot open. In a bleary-eyed panic, he typed, It'ms Bonnes. Me.

"You are having difficulty with your friendship," Spock determined.

Jim's eyes widened. You coould saqy thatt. Howw did yyou know?

Given that Doctor McCoy is not only your primary physician but also your friend, I ascertained the stress I have observed you were both experiencing led to the doctor's decision, thereby allowing you to accompany him to Atlanta. I expected you would have been given the opportunity to discuss your friendship. However, I see this is not the case. You cannot, your unwell state prevailing.

Jim winced.

Has something else of significance occurred, damaging the friendship?

Jim stared at him. Yes, he mouthed. He scratched his cheek. No.

"Could you clarify, Jim?" Spock asked quietly.

I'm...it's commplicxcated. Wjith me...liike this bhut we need...tuwo talkk. Aboout…

Jim stopped, lifting his hand to his chin, partially covering his face as if to hide.

Spock hesitated, what he intended to say an infringement upon Jim's personal life. However, being that Jim himself initiated this conversation, Spock allowed his instinct to influence his decision to speak freely.

About the warp core.

Jim read Spock's message and dropped his hand. He nodded hesitantly, face paling.

"Has he spoken of the need to also discuss the -"

Jim waved an arm in protest, Spock stopping mid-sentence.

Shh! Hie might hear youj. Jim finished, casting a furtive glance to the side.

My apologies. I forgot myself. Allow yourself to heal. I have no doubt that he, as your friend, will bestow upon you the utmost patience at this time.

Spock's fingers paused as he considered life in the Enterprise would not be the same if this, a profoundly deep friendship, could not be restored. How he himself would be affected if these two men could not reconcile with past events.

Spock glanced up, sensing something amiss.

He was not wrong. Jim's head had dipped so low his chin touched his shoulder, mouth hanging open.

Jim had simply fallen asleep.

Just as Spock was about to pick up his comm, the image through his screen moved, revealing a blurred view of Mrs. McCoy's living room.

"Jimbo, what am I gonna do with you. That can't be comfortable," he heard McCoy mutter. "Hold on, Spock. Here, Jim. That's it...just curl yourself around that blanket...I'll get you another one so you can snuggle the way ya like. Just sleep, Jim...no one's gonna say ya need to do otherwise."

A few seconds later, a frowning Doctor McCoy appeared on the screen, the doctor obviously walking away from Jim. "It looks like I came down just in time. Sorry about that, Spock. I had a feeling he wouldn't last long. It's been quite the morning for him."

"Do not apologize. Our conversation was sufficient."

"Sufficient?" McCoy snorted. "Well, I suppose that's better conversation than I'm getting from him."

Spock lifted a brow. "He is unable to speak. Conversation is limited, doctor."

"You don't think I know that, Spock?" McCoy groused.

"I did not intend to imply that you didn't. I stated my opinion in an effort to remind you."

"It's just...it's a little more complicated than that."

"I must concur," Spock admitted, recalling Jim's tremors, the spelling errors despite Jim's laborious attempts for accuracy. "He was not steady as he typed."

"His hands shook?" McCoy asked, mouth set.

"Yes, the tremors emerging partway into our conversation."

McCoy sighed. "I appreciate you telling me. These are things I need to mention in my notes, and they've been occurring all too often. Listen, I'm sure he'll want to talk to you later, again, since he had to sneak in another little nap. You will, won't you?" McCoy hesitated, looking so unsure of himself, an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes, that Spock's mouth opened in surprise. "Talk to him again? You don't know what this meant to him."

Spock quickly regained his composure and nodded. "I will speak with the captain at his convenience."

"Captain, my ass," McCoy muttered. "He snuggles with blankets, and makes my computers go all crazy. Me, too, for that matter, his health the way it is."

Not understanding McCoy's ramblings, Spock remained quiet.

"Just, make sure you can talk later, alright?" McCoy finished in a huff.

Compelled to agree for Jim's sake, he replied, "Of course."

He had every intention of being available for Jim, also to fulfill his promise regarding young Joanna. In fact, because of the tasks set before him, he would do more than what Jim - or McCoy - even expected.

If he left within two hours, he would be in Atlanta with daylight to spare.