Weary to the core, and not nearly warmed enough by the coffee, Leonard finally dragged himself back across the campus. Somewhere beyond the fog and the Golden Gate Bridge, the sun was setting, but here on the Academy Quad, there was no sunset. There was only the dim gray of dusk wrapped in thick fog, like the world wanted to close in on him, capture him, and whip him with the sharp sting of the November wind in punishment.

The door to the dorms slid open, and the turbolift dutifully whisked him up the eighteen floors to his room, but his dorm building had never felt less welcoming. He didn't deserve a welcome. Jim was somewhere out there, and Leonard had no idea where to even begin looking.

He should have known better. He had a Ph.D. in psych, for God's sake, and as soon as he'd realized what he'd heard, he should have known not to push it. He should have been the goddamned doctor that he always claimed to be, and have taken just care of his patient instead of pushing Jim to talk about one of the most traumatic ordeals any modern-day human being had ever experienced. He should have treated Jim's symptoms, which were more than enough of a concern to keep him busy, and helped him recover. And then, failing in all of those, he should have followed his best friend and made sure he was okay, and not left him alone on a day like this. He should have, he would have, but he hadn't - and now his best friend was who-knew-where, probably alone, reliving that anguish in his head over and over and -

"Hey, Bones."

Leonard all but stumbled to an abrupt halt in the doorway at the low, broken voice coming from the shadows in the far corner of the room. His breath caught, and he barely managed to choke out, "Jim?"

A soft grunt - affirmative. Of course. Nobody else. "Sorry I let myself in. You did give me your passcode, so I figured you wouldn't be too upset if I -"

"It's okay, Jim. Perfectly okay." He dropped his bag by the door and automatically kicked off his shoes. "Lights - seventy percent."

Jim was sitting on the ottoman, hunched over and curled in on himself. He looked small and scared. Leonard felt his stomach fall to his knees. "Thank God you're here. I was… I… Jim, listen, I shouldn't have -"

"I'd forgotten."

Leonard's intent to apologize, to try to make things right, fell flat. "What?"

Jim didn't look up. "I had forgotten. Actually, someone made me forget. Blocked my memory. I didn't know… didn't remember that I'd been there. On Tarsus IV. At least, I didn't remember until today."

Leonard barely felt his feet move until he realized he'd crossed the room. Slowly, he sank onto his armchair and faced Jim. The haunted look in Jim's eyes was so deep that Leonard almost felt that he was drowning in that coldness. He'd forgotten… a repressed memory… and the hostage sim made it all come back. Fuck, no wonder he went into shock. "You remembered it right in the middle of the training sim, didn't you?"

Jim nodded bleakly. "Before… I remembered, but I didn't. I've been thinking about it all day. There was this Vulcan on the ship that rescued us… he touched my face… did something to my memory, and it all went fuzzy, like a dream or something, and I forgot about it."

Leonard shook his head, trying to absorb this new information and not quite able to do so. "But it didn't work, because you remember now, and you remembered like that." He gestured with his hands as if he could encapsulate the entire goddamned fiasco from the training sim, and the shock it must have been to Jim. It was utterly inadequate, and he shook his head again. "Nobody ever warned you, nobody put it on your record, nobody gave you a chance," he whispered hoarsely. "It should have been on your psych profile. Somebody should have known. They should never have tied you up like -"

"But they didn't know either, Bones," Jim said, his voice distant. "They didn't know, and it's not their fault. Nobody knew. I didn't even… I didn't know. I didn't know." His breath caught, and Leonard startled.

"Jesus, Jim, I can't make you talk about this! Not right now, not tonight. Forget I said anything. I was wrong to ask. I shouldn't have pushed you. I was… was just too stunned. By what you said. I heard - goddammit." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and pressing his hands roughly against his face, trying to block out the haunted look in Jim's eyes - the look he'd seen in the eyes of those kids on the holovids; the kids that must have included Jim.

A hand touched his arm.

Leonard's head shot up fast enough to make his neck twinge and his eyes water, but Jim held his gaze. Slowly but decisively, he reached out and grasped Leonard's hand, pulling it between them. Then, without releasing his hand, Jim looked away to stare at the wall, as if he could see the memories taking shape on the blank surface.

"I hadn't been on the planet long," he began quietly, fingers warm and not-quite-trembling. "Just a few months. I was causing too much trouble on Earth, my step-dad couldn't handle me, so my mother figured… she figured it would be good for me. Ironic, huh?" He made a sound that was supposed to be a laugh, but it sounded like a cough.

"Jim, you don't need to -"

If Jim heard him, he gave no indication. "Sam is my brother. Well, his first name is George, but that was our dad's name, so I called him Sam. He was causing more trouble than I was. Kept running away, and mom knew that the next time he did, he wouldn't come back, so she sent him, too. We were supposed to attend a farming camp and boarding school. Hard work and discipline and old-fashioned rustic shit. It wasn't bad, actually. I liked it. Even started behaving myself."

As he talked, he slowly squeezed and kneaded Leonard's hand, much the same way Leonard had been rubbing Jim's hand while he'd been semi-conscious on the floor of the observation deck. Leonard just let him, distantly aware that he was Jim's anchor, tethering him to the present, to reality. More presently, he just couldn't fathom taking anything away from Jim at that moment when the kid had already lost so much.

"The first signs of the crop failure showed up a few weeks after we'd arrived. I almost felt like it was my fault. I was such a stupid kid. I felt like I was killing the plants. Like I'd failed. It kept getting worse. Weeks went by. People started to panic. Sam said it would be okay - the Federation would come. The outpost was so far away though. Then the rumors started."

Jim's face was slowly becoming pale, and Leonard worried that he'd work himself into a state again, but he didn't dare interrupt. As much as he was concerned over Jim's physical health, it was clear that Jim had been planning what he was going to say, waiting all day to get this out. For his emotional health, for the long term, Leonard knew that Jim needed to do this.

"People started talking, saying that food was going to be rationed away from some people, only given to others. But some said - they said that…" His voice broke, but his grip on Leonard's hand tightened; he took a bracing breath, and pushed on. "I needed to know what was going on, so I snuck into the governor's headquarters."

"Shit…" Leonard breathed.

Jim kept right on talking. "Sam told me not to. Said I was crazy. He was right - I don't know what I was thinking. Sam wouldn't stay behind though. Kept trying to talk me out of it, but when he couldn't, he waited in the woods outside the compound. I got in through the ventilation system. I saw him - Kodos. I saw his face. I heard him. I heard the plans, and the rumors were true. Half of the colony, Bones. Half of the fucking colony." He shuddered. "I found the list. It was on the desk, and when they left the room… I had to see it. Anyone who wasn't good enough… anyone who wasn't smart enough, strong enough, capable enough… they would die. I had friends on the death list. Kids from the camp. I had to warn them. I had to warn everyone. I even managed to get back outside before they caught me."

Eyes squeezed shut, and Jim clutched Leonard's hand even tighter. "I tried to yell out a warning to Sam before they could stop me; to get away, to warn the kids, to get people to leave the colony. The guards didn't like that much. They tied me up, blindfolded and gagged me, and they beat me. They decided to use me as an example to keep the survivors in line. Let me starve in front of everyone so people could see what would allegedly happen to everyone if they didn't 'select' who would die immediately."

"Jim…" Leonard whispered. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. He remembered hearing a story about a kid they'd used to make an example to the colonists, to keep them compliant; it had been gruesome. The Federation had never managed to identify the boy, and he'd been presumed dead. Leonard felt his throat tighten as realization sank in. "Jesus, Jim, this is too much. You've got to stop. Don't do this to yourself…"

Jim shook his head, silencing any protest Leonard could have made. "Let me finish this, Bones. Let me remember. I need to remember now. I'm here. I'm alive. I made it out."

"How?" was all Leonard could say.

"My brother. And some of the kids from the camp. Sam had heard me yelling the warning, and he managed to get back to camp without getting caught. He got a bunch of the other kids away from the colony before the executions. I guess they figured they owed me for warning them, and they helped. I don't actually know they got past the guards. I was blindfolded, and I'd been on display for… shit, I don't know how many days. I barely remember Sam untying me and carrying me out. We hid in a cave outside the colony. I was asleep most of that time. The ships carrying relief supplies came, and Sam told me that the shuttlecrafts were landing, but they wouldn't know to look for us that far from the settlement."

"How did they find you?"

"They didn't. They left. It was a Vulcan ship that arrived two days later. They must have better sensors than Earth ships. They found our lifesigns. We went back to Earth on the Vulcan relief ship. I don't remember much of the journey back. Slept through most of it."

"I'm not surprised." Asleep, my ass. Fucking unconscious… goddammit, Jim.

Jim nodded. "But I do remember one thing… and it's one of the last things I remember clearly. It's what made me forget. This Vulcan… the one that actually found us… I remember him saying that what I'd been through had been too much for my mind, and would destroy me eventually. He asked me if I wanted to forget, and said he could help me." Jim coughed once, and tucked his chin against his shoulder so his face was turned away from Leonard. He looked ashamed, and it made something in Leonard's chest twist painfully. "I wanted to forget. I was so tired, and everything hurt. Fuck, I just wanted to forget."

Leonard stared at the thin wet streaks that had suddenly appeared under Jim's eyes. He couldn't fathom it. It wasn't real. Jim was the cocky, sarcastic, juvenile, obnoxiously brilliant jackass with the winning smile… not this. But the hand gripping his own was hot and real and trembling, knuckles white, all bone and sinew and real human flesh that had almost died ten years ago. Jim had almost died ten years ago.

"And it worked?" Leonard asked hesitantly. "Vulcans are touch telepaths. Did he alter your memory?"

Jim started to nod, then shook his head. "Altering it would have been damaging to my mind, he said, and I was too young. Damaged. Ha! I was too damaged to be fixed. So instead, he faded it. It was like a nightmare I'd had - not real. Whenever I'd remember a hint of it, I figured I was remembering what people had said about the massacre. I thought I was remembering a story I'd heard, or… or a holovid broadcast I'd seen, or… something else. Anything else." He shuddered, shaking his head jarringly as if trying to clear the images from behind his eyes. "Someone else, not me. It didn't feel like it was me. I'd forgotten. And I suppose I should be grateful. He gave me ten years of peace… or… something like peace… not that my life has ever been peaceful." He sighed, and finally withdrew his hand from Leonard's.

The palm of Leonard's hand felt cold and empty, like it was missing something that just should be there. He put that out of his mind and swallowed against the dryness that made his throat feel like it was sticking to itself. "How did they explain the gap in your memory?"

"Sam told me I got sick while we were there on the planet. Some alien fever. That's why they sent me home, he said. He convinced me that we left before the crops failed, and that we spent those months on a slow medical transport home. Told me that I didn't remember because I spent most of the ride unconscious. He kept me away from news vids and broadcasts as much as possible."

Leonard boggled at the layers of deception. "How could that work for ten goddamned years, Jim? How could they do that to you?"

Jim laughed, and it wasn't a pleasant sound. "It worked because people didn't want to talk about horrific things anyway. Neither did I. If nobody talks about it, it never comes up. It worked because I needed it to work, because I clearly couldn't have handled it if I did remember… as we just found out, didn't we?"

"You never should have had to find out like that. Starfleet should have had records," Leonard suddenly growled, hearing Pike's voice echo in his mind - "We didn't know." - and suddenly unable to forgive them for their ignorance. "But they were too damned sloppy. They should have known. God damn them, they should have known! Then they would have known better than to do that to you in the training sim." Leonard was almost startled by the ferocity that broke his own voice.

Apparently, it startled Jim, too, as he gave Leonard an unreadable look. Slowly, he shook his head. "Bones, it's not their fault for not knowing. Sam gave the wrong name to the Starfleet officer on purpose, to protect us. He wanted them to leave me alone. And now that I remember everything, I'm glad he did it. I would have done the same thing." He snorted, and then folded his arms over his stomach, hunching forward over his knees. He looked so small, like he was thirteen years old again, starved and broken. "They wanted to debrief and counsel us when we got back to Earth… document everything… but I… I wanted it to be over. I was still a bit fuzzy from whatever that Vulcan had done to me, and from… well… everything, but I remember Sam sneaking me off to the bathroom when we landed, and instead of going back into Starfleet Medical, we escaped. Caught a transport back to Iowa, and showed up on Frank's doorstep. Frank wasn't happy, but I didn't care. I think I slept for a week." He gave a short, choked laugh that sounded more like a cry of pain. "I think I just slept for the past ten years."

Leonard stared at Jim. The kid had just bared his soul, and yet Leonard felt like he was the one who'd been gutted.

What the hell do you say to that? Leonard thought bleakly. How the fuck can I ever look at him the same way again? Goddammit. "Good God, Jim. How did… are you… I'm sorry, I…" He looked down from Jim's haunted face to his own shaking hands.

"It's not your fault, Bones. You weren't there. You couldn't have helped me."

"That doesn't matter. I'm here now. I was your doctor earlier, but let me be your friend here. Dammit Jim, tell me how to help you." He glanced back up. "Tell me… what can I do?"

A wrecked sort of smile twisted his face. "Send Toland a fat lip and a fruit basket with my compliments."

Leonard stared at Jim, torn between laughing and crying. He settled for coughing a few times as he rubbed his eyes harshly, not sure what to make of all this. The coughing turned into one choked sob, then another. He hated himself for it; he had no goddamned right to be crying now. Jim was the one who should be crying, breaking down, screaming, shattering, but Leonard couldn't even get a grip on himself, while Jim sat there stoically, reaching up to place a hand on Leonard's shoulder, gripping lightly with a reassuring presence.

But he wasn't quite stoic because his hand was shaking, just barely, his eyes were dry but haunted, and behind the set jaw and the press of his lips, he was so broken… so fucking shattered. It was something that Leonard didn't think he could ever fix, but dammit, he had to do something.

"No, Jim. No… I don't have the goddamned right to… I shouldn't be… you need… oh, fuck it all."

In one jolting motion, he lurched from the armchair and squeezed onto the ottoman, wrapping Jim in a fierce hug, as if he could protect him from his own past. He was surprised to discover how easily Jim fit into his arms, and how the kid just melted against his side. Jim's arms snaked around Leonard's waist, fingers clutching, holding, clinging desperately for something solid to grasp as if the rest of the world was slipping and spiraling away from him. From there, Leonard could finally feel Jim's trembling, which he'd been hiding the entire time. He could feel Jim's heart thudding through his shirt. And when the first silent, ragged sob came, Leonard felt that, too.

"It's okay, kid. I've got you. You're safe."

"I can't do this, Bones" Jim whispered hoarsely. "I can't. Won't. Can't… not again…"

He was trying not to let himself break down, but Leonard knew that some floods were too powerful for any dam, no matter how strong. "Nobody will see you, so it doesn't matter," he said, trying to sound reassuring, comforting.

"You'll see me."

"Damn it, man, do you think… do you honestly think that would bother me?" he ground out, frustrated to think that after all that, Jim would still feel like he needed to hide from him. He held Jim just a bit tighter, trying to say without words that he wasn't about to let go. "Fuck, I can't believe I left you alone all day."

"I ran off, Bones. I needed to. After you'd seen me like that, how could I stay?" He sniffed. "Weak. I let those bastards get to me. Everyone saw me like that. You saw me like that! I… I wasn't…"

Jim tried to pull away, but Leonard grabbed him by the arms and held him fast. Leonard looked squarely at red-rimmed eyes until they met his own. "I see you now, Jim, and in case you didn't notice, I still want you here," he said, his voice cutting like a razor. "You're not weak. Goddammit, you survived Tarsus IV - how can you ever think you're weak?"

After a moment's half-hearted struggle, Jim surrendered and let his head fall forward against Leonard's shoulder. Another sob shook his body, even though he didn't make a sound. If it was possible, he curled in on himself even smaller. "I am weak. Sam had to carry me out… you had to lift me onto the fucking stretcher… pathetic. Not good enough. Never fucking good enough," he gasped. It sounded like he was drowning. "Not good enough for my mother. Not good enough to be a Kirk, everyone saying I should be a fucking hero like my dad. Not good enough for Starfleet… not good enough for… for…"

Jim all but collapsed against Leonard. His fingers were twisted into Leonard's shirt and his face was buried against that same soft fabric, and he might not have been crying, but there was no way in hell Leonard could miss the grief and pain and fear that was wrapped up in those heaving not-sobs. For a long time, Jim didn't move save for the convulsive shuddering of his shoulders, and soon even that calmed somewhat, but his hands stayed twisted tight in Leonard's shirt.

Leonard didn't mind. In no way could Leonard ever mind.

Jim finally stilled, with his weight almost fully supported by Leonard and his breathing quieter, softer. At first, Leonard thought that his friend was asleep, having thoroughly worn himself out, and hopefully dreaming of something other than horror and starvation, but then Jim made a small, scared noise.

"Bones?"

"Yes, Jim?

"Am I good enough?"

Frowning, like he was on the edge of something, Leonard shifted Jim's body in his arms. He slipped off the edge of the ottoman, and knelt down in front of Jim so he could get a better look at him, while still clutching Jim's shoulders in his hands. "Dammit, Jim, of course you are. How can you even ask a question like that?"

"I…"

And then, something clicked. Like a puzzle assembling itself in front of his eyes, the pieces of Jim that had been amusing but unimportant suddenly snapped into place, and Leonard was almost overwhelmed by the implications. The cockiness, the confidence, the arrogance, the need to be the best, because he had to be good enough…

Pure survival instinct, because anything less than perfect might not be good enough, and that was the difference between life and death. That's what it would take to end up on… good God. Leonard's mouth fell open. The list.

"What, Bones?"

Leonard startled. Blinked. "Jim?"

"You've got a question. I can see it on your face."

Leonard grimaced. Even exhausted and broken, Jim could still read him like a goddamned book. "Yeah."

"So ask. What else have I got left to hide at this point?"

For a long moment, Leonard looked at Jim, as if seeing him for the first time. His eyes were unguarded and open, like the young man's soul had been stripped naked and left for the world to see - on display like the starving boy he'd once been. It was a sight that made Leonard's stomach clench and his breath catch. Slowly, he nodded. "You said you saw the list… Kodos' list. Did you read the whole thing?"

Jim's eyes shifted - still open and honest, but far away now, as if he was seeing something in his own memory. His jaw quivered, and his shoulders began to tremble. His mouth barely moved when he finally answered. "Yes."

"Were you on it?"

Jim sat still as a statue, and the word was barely audible. "Yes."

.&.

When everything had been stripped away, dissected, and laid out for perceptive eyes to decipher, there wasn't much left to say.

They sat in silence for a long time, hands clasped together, with Leonard on the floor and Jim on the ottoman, hunched over, staring blankly at the carpet. The soft sound of Jim's breath, the occasional tremble in his shoulders, and the pulse thrumming in his wrist reassured Leonard second by second that Jim was alive and okay and would make it through this, and Leonard - Bones. For Jim, I can be Bones - would be there as long as it took. As much as he'd razzed the kid in lighter times and better days, he knew that Jim was something amazing, and if he could catch a break, if he could just have a chance - all he'd need was that one goddamned chance - the universe would be his. Somehow, Leonard knew that he'd be right there beside Jim when it all happened, and the universe would sit back, smirk at him, and say, Told you so.

Why does the universe sound like Jim? Leonard thought idly.

But for now, the universe would have to wait, because all that mattered was this small dorm room with Jim, Leonard, and the thick fog pressing against the windows, shrouding everything else from existence. Jim sat silently with a focused sort of determination that seemed like he was trying to reclaim the fractured pieces of himself, and Leonard held on to his hands as if that alone could help hold him together. Finally, long after Leonard had lost track of time, Jim shifted and looked up, making eye contact. His eyes hadn't gotten their sparkle back, but they were less haunted now and a bit more human. His mouth quirked into an attempted smile, and he whispered, "Thank you," as he finally pulled his hands back to himself.

"Anytime, kid."

With that loss of contact, Leonard felt like he'd lost his own grounding, and he found himself feeling inexplicably awkward. So he stumbled to his feet and did the one thing he knew how to do - he went rummaging through his cabinets for his stash of bourbon. That was how he'd learned to handle harsh emotions in recent years, but the events of the night were so far out of his league that he was actually glad when Jim called him off from that idea.

"Getting drunk won't help, Bones. Not for this. Replicate some coffee, would you?"

They drank coffee and talked about their classes. They drank more coffee and chatted aimlessly about not going home for the long weekend that marked the old Thanksgiving holiday, pretending they didn't like the way their families had cooked the stuffing for the turkey. They played a few games of 3D-chess, and Leonard was determinedly not surprised to find that Jim was an expert player. They drank even more coffee, and talked through even more meaningless topics, and ignored the world as the evening sank deeper into the night. After the fourth cup, Leonard caught on - Jim was trying to keep himself awake. It was almost 0200 hours. Sighing helplessly, Leonard reached over and took the empty cup out of Jim's hand.

Jim smiled, not catching on. "Thanks, Bones. Think you can get the replicator to put a bit more cream in it this time?"

"No, Jim. I'm not getting you a refill." He stood, feeling his joints creaking stiffly. He walked to the kitchenette and put both cups into the reprocessor, then turned and leaned against the countertop, folding his arms across his chest as he gave Jim a pointed look. "You need to sleep sometime tonight. Just because I haven't scanned you with a tricorder doesn't mean I can't tell that you still need some rest to recover from today."

Looking stung, Jim sank back against the sofa cushions and stared at the ceiling. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I don't want to sleep."

Leonard took a slow breath. He'd seen this in patients before - patients who had been pulled from fires or flash floods or other traumatic events. They'd refuse to sleep because of the fear that what they might see in their dreams would be worse than what they were imagining while they were awake. He couldn't really blame them. Hell, after his father's death, he hadn't been able to sleep for three days, and when he finally had, well, it hadn't been pleasant. And then, during the custody battle after his divorce - fuck, he'd lost more sleep over that bullshit, over the fear of losing Joanna, and the harsh reality that he actually had lost her…

"I understand, kid," he finally said, then amended it, "I mean, I can't understand what it must be like, you know, for something this bad, but I've had more than my share of sleepless nights. But you've still got to get some rest."

"I don't want… it's just…" Jim picked his feet up off the floor and swung them onto the couch, pressing his back against the arm of the couch and pulling his knees up. As small and defenseless as he looked, curled up on himself like that, there was an uncomfortable note of self-disbelief in his tone. He gave a forced, humorless laugh and shook his head at himself. "I can't deal with my roommate tonight. He's not a bad guy, but - did you know that he irons his underwear, Bones? It's just not normal. And he doesn't talk about anything but subatomic pattern induction in transporter physics. I just can't…"

Leonard's mouth fell open. Jim was fairly indifferent about his roommate - he'd even said that he liked the guy well enough, and had been pretty lucky in that department. The real issue was obvious. "Jesus, Jim, you think I'm gonna send you away after a day like this?"

Jim shrugged, but didn't look up.

"You're kidding me, right?" Leonard shook his head in dismay. Jim had practically made his second home on Leonard's couch since the third week of the semester. For Jim to think that he was going to send him away, under these circumstances, on a day like this - it was unconscionable. "Jim, how many times have you crashed here after I dragged your drunk ass home from the bar? Or when you just drank too much of my good stuff to walk back to your dorm without getting nailed by campus security? You've never needed to ask before."

"This is different," Jim mumbled, saying exactly what McCoy had figured he was thinking.

"So what if it is?" Leonard crossed the room and half-sat on the arm of the chair. "Jim, I'm saying that you didn't need to ask then, and you don't need to ask now. The invitation was always there, and I'm not about to retract it."

Jim finally looked up, and for the first time since he'd opened his eyes on the observation deck floor that morning, there was a glimmer of something hopeful there. He seemed torn between gratitude and reluctance to let himself accept what he obviously needed. "I didn't think about it like that," he said warily.

"Well kid, maybe you should." Leonard let his shoulders slump and tilted his head, considering Jim, or more specifically this shadow of Jim left by the day's trauma. He hoped he'd see the old Jim again soon; the one who wouldn't think twice of crashing on his couch, drinking his bourbon, or putting his feet up on the coffee table like the place was just as much his as Leonard's. In truth, not that Leonard would ever say it out loud, it made the cramped dorm suite feel more like a home. He gave what he hoped was an encouraging look. "I'm here if you need me."

"Thanks, Bones," he said, the words forced and rough. He hesitated as if he'd been about to say something, but instead, he looked away.

"What, Jim?" Leonard prodded gently. "Come on, spit it out."

Jim shook his head, but after a moment, he spoke quietly, still not looking up. "This is gonna sound weird, and shit, I can't believe I'm talking like this, so chalk it up to the most fucked-up day I've ever had, but…all the people I talk to, all the people I've fucked - they're just a blur of faces. It's okay when I'm talking or working with them, but I never get too close because they're not really real… if you know what I mean. Like they're there, but they're flat." His head drooped, just a tiny bit, like he was hiding from his own words. "You… you're real." He froze for a moment, his mouth open as if more words were just about to spill out, but then he tipped his head forward so Leonard could no longer see his face and mumbled, "Thanks for letting me stay tonight."

The myriad of possible implications sent Leonard's mind reeling, but it was the simple one that grabbed him: the kid was lonely. Leonard had no idea what to say in reply, to thoughts voiced or silent, so he said nothing.

Jim must have decided that Leonard's silence was a bad sign, so he snorted a dry laugh and looped his elbow over the back of the couch. He was trying to appear casual, but that only emphasized the exhaustion in the tense lines of his body; despite four large mugs of coffee, it was clear that sleep was beginning to claim him. "Jesus, that sounds so fucked up," he mumbled, staring off at the ceiling. "If I'm this fucked up when I'm awake…" His voice broke off roughly, but the rest of his unspoken plea was clear enough.

"You need to sleep," Leonard said flatly, trying to sound firm but sympathetic - his best doctor's voice, which he hated using on his friend like that. "I'm happy to have you stay here, but I can't sit back and watch you put your health at risk after what your body went through today."

"Bones, I've missed plenty of nights of sleep over the years. That's nothing." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before they popped back open, tense and pleading. "If I close my eyes… I… right now, I can't handle what I see."

Leonard looked down at him; at the shoulders that didn't quite tremble, at the scruffy mess of blond hair that stood in every direction, at the eyes of a person who looked like he'd just stared death in the face and had lost a piece of himself in the process. Jim was starting to lose it, and judging by the internal struggle evident in his face, it was clear that he knew he was starting to lose it. It was a battle he couldn't win - not this time.

"Dammit, Jim." Leonard turned and strode decisively over to his comm panel and pulled up a communiqué screen. "Computer, send an official notification to the duty doctor at Starfleet Academy Infirmary, authorization Doctor McCoy, Leonard H. Message follows. Medical record, Kirk, James T.: Cadet Kirk is continuing to suffer from the side-effects of neurogenic shock, including decreased mental acuity, headache, and nausea. I am restricting him from duty for an additional twenty-four hours, with strict instructions to rest. I will continue to monitor his condition as needed. End Message. Computer, tag this notification with authorization code McCoy theta epsilon gamma and transmit."

"Transmission confirmed."

When Leonard turned around, Jim was staring at him with a look of pure amusement plastered thinly over his darker emotions. "You just wrote me a bullshit sick note, didn't you?"

Leonard quirked a half-smile, but shook his head as he walked back to Jim. "Sick note, yes. Bullshit, no. You're still suffering from what happened today, and you can't tell me that you're ready for duty tomorrow. I just gave them a list of symptoms that they wouldn't question, that's all."

Jim looked up at him, blue eyes peering through lightly tear-encrusted eyelashes, and for a moment, Leonard had to fight the urge to reach down and brush those eyelashes with a gentle thumb. Instead, he shook his head and patted Jim's shoulder twice before sitting down heavily on the ottoman. "But that means you get some rest. I'm not writing you a sick note so you can go out and act like an idiot. Tomorrow's Friday, so you've got the whole weekend. Otherwise, I'd have half a mind to sedate you to make sure you actually get some rest."

In a split second, Jim snapped from exhaustion to barely-controlled panic. His eyes went wide, struck with a sharp edge of terror that froze the room. "No, Bones… no… I don't want to sleep. Not tonight -" His face paled as body went rigid, and he seemed to be struggling to not physically push himself back against the arm of the couch. White-knuckled fingers dug into the cushion, and his head twitched, shaking no. "Don't make me fall asleep, Bones," he breathed, the sound harsh and anxious. "Don't make me sleep."

"Whoa! Jesus, Jim, relax! I'm not gonna sedate you!" Leonard said in a rush, holding up his hands, which were innocently devoid of a hypospray. Yeah, Jim was definitely starting to lose it. He was mostly lucid and medically stable, but was physically exhausted and emotionally spent, and his ability to think clearly had probably run out. "Kid, you can't see yourself right now, but if you could, even you'd be worried." He exhaled through pursed lips, shaking his head. What am I going to do with him? "Here… "

He reached up to the back of the couch and pulled down the quilt his grandmother had given him when he'd gotten married. It had always been his, though, not Jocelyn's, and he'd actually had a flash of gratitude when it had arrived in a box at his dorm mail drop a month after his sudden and insane decision to join Starfleet - short-lived gratitude, of course, when he remembered how much of his shit his lovely ex-wife had kept. But the quilt had memories. It had always smelled like the cedar chest his grandmother had owned, and to this day, it felt like comfort and home, all hand-stitched and real. As he wrapped Jim in the blanket and tucked a pillow behind the mess of blond hair, he hoped Jim would take some comfort from it, too.

Jim eyed him warily, but his body language betrayed him, and he slowly settled down and clutched the quilt closer to his chest. He almost didn't seem like Jim just then, like the man that Leonard had gotten to know over the past few months, but like a shadow of that man - tired, uncertain, confused, and disoriented. Leonard wondered where his mind must be, now that the first clutches of sleep were clearly beginning to claim him, and he couldn't quite hold his thoughts steady. Jim visibly forced himself to straighten his back, and he leaned forwards, making one last plea. "Please, Bones, just help me stay awake tonight. You've got to have something. Please?"

Leonard - Bones - wanted to give Jim everything he asked. Give his best friend a stimulant and sit up with him until the dawn started cracking through the cold November fog. Doctor McCoy knew better, and understood just how desperately Jim's body needed sleep, and dammit, he was a doctor, and he wasn't going to enable his friend's reckless demands when he'd been through such a serious medical emergency earlier that day. But that didn't mean that Bones couldn't help.

"You can't have a stimulant, Jim," Leonard said with a heavy sigh that came out more as a growl. Jim's face fell, but a second later warped into confusion as Leonard got up from the ottoman, turned around without even bothering to stand fully upright, and tucked himself under the bottom of quilt at the vacant end of the sofa by Jim's feet. In immediate answer to Jim's confusion, Leonard nodded, "You can't have a stimulant because your body is still recovering from this morning, you've already had too much caffeine anyway, and I gave you too many drugs this morning that affect your heart rate and blood pressure to risk an interaction. But you can have me." He reached over and patted Jim's knee lightly. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep on your own."

Jim frowned, deepening the strained circles and shadows around his eyes. "Bones, are you… I mean… you don't have to…" He looked away, as if his protests had become internal and he was debating with himself. Then he sighed. "Thanks, Bones."

Leonard gave a soft smile and a nod. "Computer - lights, ten percent."

Within a few minutes, Jim's eyes were closed, and the lines of tension began melting away under the quilt. He turned halfway onto his side, feet stretching out and pressing warmly against Leonard's thigh. Leonard smiled and rested a hand on Jim's leg through the quilt, just to feel that he was there. He couldn't help the twinge of protectiveness he felt, and maybe even a touch of possessiveness, and didn't bother examining why he felt like that. It was enough that he did.

Jim's breathing evened out, and Leonard relaxed to the soft, steady sounds of a human body at rest, reassuring himself with the knowledge that his best friend was safe and recovering and that he'd had something to do with it. He knew he should go to bed himself, get up from the couch and actually lie down and sleep properly - he had his regular classes plus four hours of clinic duty in the morning - but there was something serene and reassuring about sitting quietly and letting the day's aftermath wash over him and drift away. Maybe cocky, boisterous Jim wasn't there, but peaceful, sleeping Jim somehow made the place feel like home, too, like a tune from the past, familiar and soothing. It wasn't the quiet comfort of the Georgia countryside, and the cold November rain that had just begun pummeling the window kept him from having any such illusions, but it was good enough. And dammit, Jim was good enough, too. More than good enough.

"Bones?" came Jim's soft voice, muffled by the quilt which he'd pulled halfway up his face.

"Jim!" Leonard blurted, barely able to keep his voice down. "I thought you were asleep."

"Almost," he said, the word just a bit slurred. "Wanted to know… what'cha humming?"

Leonard blinked in surprise - he'd had a song stuck in his head, but he hadn't realized he'd been humming the tune aloud. "Nothing important, Jim. Just an old song… about Georgia. Really old."

"I like it. The song. You humming." He yawned. "Thinkin' of home?"

Leonard looked down at the blue eyes, almost completely obscured by shadows, peeking out from behind the edge of the quilt. With a grin, he reached over and patted Jim's hand. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Soon, Leonard was sure Jim was really asleep, and not long after, he drifted off with the disjointed lyrics of the ancient tune still echoing through his head.

heavy rain fallin', seems i hear your voice callin'
"it's all right."
a rainy night in Georgia, a rainy night in Georgia
it seems like it's rainin' all over the world
i feel like it's rainin' all over the world…

.&.

Leonard's own dreams were a fit of images, spinning flashes of all the fears he'd allowed to creep up on himself when he wasn't looking. Jim, unconscious on the floor of the observation deck, but this time, he wasn't responding to treatment. A painfully skinny boy lying in a cave as his older brother desperately tried to signal the rescue shuttles that were flying away, leaving them behind, leaving them to die, too late to be saved. Jim in a crumpled heap on the transporter pad. A child left for dead, his haunted eyes growing dim and finally fading out.

His father, with pain-glazed eyes growing dim and finally fading out. Joanna, on the other side of a judge's conference table, looking back at him with questioning eyes, too young to understand the meanings of phrases like sole custody and limited visitation rights.

Then there was Jim again. He was watching the fierce, confident, brilliant Jim Kirk, a few years older, captain of some goddamned starship, unafraid of anything, but still flesh and blood and so easily snuffed out of existence by an alien taking hostages, or a battle with a hostile ship, or a disease that Leonard couldn't cure fast enough as life slipped through his fingers, taking his best friend with it. Then he couldn't pull his eyes away from the image of a child, bound and gagged and left on display in the public square - and Leonard tried to reach him, but he couldn't reach the kid because he wasn't really there, and the boy faded away to dust in front of his own eyes.

He was back in the training sim room, watching Jim being bound and gagged and beaten in front of his eyes, but he couldn't reach the kid because there was a solid window between them. He pounded his fists against the window, screaming, demanding that the bastards stop, yelling for Jim to hang in there, just hang in there, because it would be over soon and Leonard could fix him. But the aliens didn't stop beating him, and finally Jim crumpled to the ground and didn't move as his biosensors wailed in defeat.

The foot that collided with Leonard's gut was actually a blessing because it woke him from the nightmare that had held him too long, but dropped him right into another problem.

"Jim!" Leonard barely managed to bring up his arm to keep Jim's foot from hitting him in the face as the kid thrashed and struggled against enemies that no longer existed.

"NO! Let me go, let me go, LET ME GO! Fucking bastards, get your hands off me!" He was fully tangled in the quilt, struggling in pure panic.

One kick got through and snapped Bones in the face, and there was the hot, sick feel and metallic smell of blood in his nose. He ignored the warm trickle down his upper lip and called, "Computer - lights!" Dodging the flailing feet, Leonard managed to get off the couch. He grabbed Jim by the shoulders and shook him. "Jim! Wake up, kid!"

"Sam, you've got to warn them! No! No, no, no… stop!" Jim twisted in Leonard's hands - Goddammit, he's strong, Bones realized in a combination of fear and awe - but he held firm, shaking Jim again.

"Jim, snap out of it. Dammit, Jim, listen to me!" Risking the chance of Jim wrenching out of his grasp, Leonard took one hand and relinquished his grip, and held that hand firmly against Jim's cheek. Jim flinched, but Leonard wasn't quitting on him. "Jim, you're safe. It's me. It's Bones. Wake up."

"Bones! Don't let them get you! Get out of here -"

Using his weight, he pinned Jim down with one arm and pressed both hands to Jim's cheeks, desperate to get the kid awake and grounded back in reality, instead of trapped in his worst memories. "Jim, you're in San Francisco. Starfleet. You're here in my dorm room. Come back, kid."

Jim's hand came up, fingers grasping at Leonard's hand on his cheek. Eyes twitched and snapped open, wild with fear, and he blinked a few times, breathing hard as he took in his surroundings. His hand began shaking violently, and Leonard squeezed tightly to help steady him. "Bones… oh God, Bones… I was…" The fear began to dissipate, but the shame didn't fade at all. He pulled his hand out of Leonard's grip and clumsily pushed himself upright, shaking his head and shuddering. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Bones, I didn't mean to wake you -" He cut himself off, and his eyes went wide the shame suddenly changed to guilt. "Shit, you're bleeding!"

Leonard wiped the back of his hand across his nose, looking with detached amusement at the red streak that smeared his skin. "It's not broken," he said, grabbing a tissue from the box on the coffee table, absently thinking, You're the broken one, kid, even as he pinched his nose with the tissue and tilted his head back slightly. He soaked through the paper too quickly, and was glad he was still wearing his red cadet uniform.

"You're doing it wrong," Jim said, pushing back the quilt and grabbing the box of tissues.

Leonard would have snorted, if he could. "And since when did you become a doctor?"

"Let's just say I've had a lot of experience with these." He folded the tissues into a thick pad. "Move your hand."

Feeling very awkward, Leonard let Jim take over. His hand was surprisingly gentle - No, I am never going to let myself be surprised by Jim Kirk again - as he pinched Leonard's nose just a bit lower than Leonard would have done himself. Jim's movements were confident, as if by taking care of someone else, or having a task to do, he was able to distract himself from his own issues. There was that hint of confidence and capability returning, even if just for a moment. For that reason alone, Leonard was glad to let him do this.

"Now tip your head forward, just a little bit," Jim instructed, resting a hand on the back of Leonard's neck. "If you tip it backwards, you'll choke on the blood, and it won't clot as fast. I'm sure you've treated more of these than you've had yourself."

"Gud guez."

Jim sighed. "I'm sorry I kicked you."

"Id'z fine," Leonard mumbled around the tissue. "I'b actually kinda glad you woke me up."

Jim gave him a critical sort of look. "A few bad dreams, too, huh?"

Leonard closed his eyes and actually leaned into Jim's hand. "Yeah." Sure, he could have waved Jim off, grabbed his vascular regenerator from his emergency kit, and fixed the nosebleed in a few seconds, but this… in some weird way, it was nice.

"Aren't we just a fucking mess," Jim said with an amused sigh.

Leonard gave a small grunt in agreement.

"But…" Jim said slowly, "I think, even fucked up and messed up, we're ahead of most people. We'll be okay. Right?" His voice was firm and confident, until that last word; he was waiting for Leonard to confirm it.

Something in the way Jim had said "we," as if that pronoun had always been there and always would be, caught Leonard's attention. By all rights, it shouldn't have been there at all; at least, not yet. They'd known each other for so little time. They had almost nothing in common other than the fact that they had nothing in common with anyone else. Technically, they knew almost nothing about each other. Hell, despite the fact that Jim had clung to Leonard like a goddamned limpet since the day he'd arrived, or maybe he'd just come back again and again like a cold virus Leonard just couldn't shake, Jim had never really spoken about himself until that very night. And despite all that, they were definitely a "we."

Leonard slowly reached up and nudged Jim's fingers out of the way, pinching his own nose with the tissue the exact way Jim had done. A few seconds later, he cautiously pulled away the tissues, wiping under his nose and sniffing a couple of times. There was no telltale feeling of blood running down his nostrils, and he smiled. "Right kid. We will."

He got up and walked to his kitchenette sink, wet a cloth, and wiped his face with it. His clock read 0437 hours - he had to be awake by 0700. He knew he should go to his bed and try to get at least a little bit of normal sleep, but he dismissed the thought before he'd even considered it. He walked back to the couch and grumbled, "Move over."

Jim frowned, but obeyed, sliding away from the end of the couch.

Leonard grabbed the pillow, sat down where Jim's head had been, and set the pillow on his lap. With a sharp nod, he said, "Now lie down and get some sleep."

"Uh, Bones… are you sure… I mean…" He waved a hand as if that explained what he meant, and it did.

Leonard rolled his eyes. "You can't kick me if I'm up here, can you?" he asked, glossing over the fact that he was offering to hold Jim all night if that's what it took.

"Don't you have your Humanoid Morphologies class in the morning?" Jim asked, still frowning.

Leonard shrugged. "I hate that class anyway."

And that was enough of an excuse for both of them.

A moment later, the lights were off, and Jim's weight was heavy and comforting, like a shield between Leonard and the storm still raging outside. Then, Jim reached up, took Leonard's hand and moved it, wrapping himself with Leonard's arm, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Bones wasn't sure who fell asleep first, but when he woke up hours later with the sun streaming in the window and Jim's blue eyes shining up at him, he knew they hadn't moved once all night.

.&.

(To Be Continued...)