"So?" he teased, tapping on Jim's forearm, right over the scars, "You gonna tell me how you got these?"

He heard Bones sigh in frustration, before the tapping stopped and felt his presence leave.

Jim's eyes flew open;

"Wait," he groused out before he could stop himself, voice raw from not being used for so long.

Bones spun back around, facing him with wide surprised eyes.

"I need to tell you something."

Bones stared at Jim for a moment longer, hoping to see his face twitch and start laughing as if the whole explanation was just one of his cruel jokes.

Human experimentation? Judging by all the cuts and scars on Jim's body, he dread to think about what those bastards Ruri and Cadel did to him.

Instead, the blonde remained glancing down at his hands, as if in shame or embarrassment.

He finally pursed his lips together and spoke up;

"So…they did some testing on you, huh?"

Jim however was still quiet, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind hoping he wasn't going to fall silent for days again.

"Yeah, I can see why you didn't want to tell anyone," he continued sardonically, watching his friend for any sign of movement.

Apparently he was content staring at his fingers.

"Don't know why you thought anything different," Jim mumbled under his breath, still staring down at his hands, "Why else would I have all these cuts?"

McCoy caught the sight of his PADD out the corner of his eye. He ought to tell Pike about this.

"Could have been torture for information," he suggested, leaning to the side and grasping his PADD with the tips of his fingers.

Jim scoffed, "That's what it felt like."

He swiped the screen on, beginning to tap through several options to send a subspace message to Pike.

"I mean like an interrogation," he corrected, typing in what Jim had told him, "But you're sure it was just to get information about humans, and not an attempt to pull secret stuff about Starfleet?"

He saw Jim shrug from above him, still typing their conversation down on his PADD.

"I don't know. They wanted a copy of my memories for some reason," then Jim snorted in realisation, "They're gonna have a rough time at the beginning."

McCoy frowned, glancing up towards Jim briefly, trying to decipher what he meant before deciding it was probably personal and leaving it alone.

Send.

"Well, apart from the fact you've got a dozen and one marks all over your body, you seem pretty damn healthy to me," he tossed his PADD away and stood up from his chair, gazing down at Jim and trying to get a glimpse of his face. The kid was unreadable.

"Does Spock know?" Jim glanced up from his fingers and for once, actually looked McCoy in the eye.

The doctor ran a hand over his face, "You mean about…this?" he gestured to Jim, paused then shook his head in the negative, "No, it's patient confidentiality. Except with Pike."

Jim frowned, and winced for some reason, "Pike knows?"

"He made it an order that I tell him, but said he wouldn't put it on the record," McCoy softened his voice and locked eyes with Jim, noticing the tension lines in his face, "I think he's just worried about ya, kid, but he pulled rank on me to get his way."

McCoy expected a huge argument to recite from the Captain's mouth, but instead he just dropped his head back down to gaze at his fingers and sighed.

"Oh."

McCoy was tempted to make a sarcastic reply to that, but instead sighed, throwing his hands in the air in submission, "Alright, what's goin' on with you, Jim?" he questioned, standing as close to the bed as humanly possible, inches away from the frame.

"Nothing." Jim mumbled under his breath.

"Nothing? Jim, you were experimented on for christ's sake. If you need to talk to someone, you can talk to a counsellor, or talk to me, or—"

"I'm fine, Bones," Jim demanded in his captaincy-tone, an attitude he hadn't heard in weeks.

He sighed, "Alright!" then slumped back onto the chair, "What do you want me to do to help?"

Jim clenched his fists together, a sure sign of agitation, "I said I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I don't want to talk to a god damn shrink! I can deal with this myself, I always have done, and I will now!" Jim yelled, subsequently causing a spike in the monitor's heart rate.

"Easy, easy," McCoy soothed, standing up from the chair once again and heading towards the shelving to grab a sedative, just in case.

"I just don't want to talk about it, Bones," Jim was saying from his bed, arms folded across his chest, "Not yet, anyway."

McCoy approached from behind him, keeping the monitor's green numbers visible from the corner of his eye. A loaded hypospray was protectively grasped in his left hand.

"That's alrigh—Christ, Jim, you're jumpier than a damn startled alpaca," the blonde had jumped the second he started speaking, as if he didn't see him coming.

He heard him snort and force laughter, "Sorry, guess they had more of an impact on me than I thought."

Well, it was possible. After a traumatic event, it was common for a person to become jumpy as their fight-or-flight instincts unnecessarily took over.

"Alright," he reached his left hand up to Jim's neck to warn him in advance, "You need to sleep for a while, get that heart-rate back down, while I figure out what to do with you."

Jim didn't seem phased by the terrifying hypospray that was inches away from his neck, "You're just doing that to punish—agh!" his head spun around to face his doctor, "Fuck! Warn me before you do that! Damn it!"

McCoy frowned, pulling away the hypo and glaring back at him.

"I did warn you. I held the hypo to your neck so you knew it was coming, but you didn't even look at it."

Jim huffed in frustration, but McCoy could tell his anxiety levels were rising for whatever reason.

"I didn't want to look at it, I was looking at the monitor."

He raised an eyebrow, "When did you ever gain an interest in your health, you negligent sonovabitch?" he teased curiously, as Jim rolled his eyes and slumped back against the bed.

Thankfully the sedative was taking effect on him.

"I like…the numbers go up and down…"

McCoy nearly snorted, pocketing the hypo and standing next to the blonde, "Yeah? Well despite looking at something else, the hypo should have come into your left peripheral vision anyway, so there's no defending yourself here, Jim," he grumbled, placing a hand on Jim's forehead and expecting a fever.

Pretty normal. The drugs probably made him loopy.

"S'green now…"

He sighed, that was a good sign, "Yeah, it's green."

"Green numbers…"

"Uh-huh."

"You…you blue, righ'?"

"Not anymore, I'm in my whites."

"Who…"

Jim fell quiet, and for a hopeful second McCoy thought he had finally fell asleep.

"…blue?"

Or not.

"Spock's blue, Jim."

After a couple of moments, McCoy watched Jim's heart-rate calm down to a more acceptable rate, a sleeping rate, and huffed out a sigh of relief.

Finally.

Jim was in a state of tranquilised limbo by the time he was being pulled out of his stupor.

He vaguely felt someone hitting his shoulder and growling his name.

"Jim! Wake up, damn it!"

His eyes were open, but they wasn't focused at all on Bones.

More like, the pretty white walls.

"I'm not telling you again! Snap out of it and eat something before I shoot you up with adrenaline!"

Jim snorted, glancing up at Bones warily and nodding.

"Salad."

It was Bones' turn to look confused this time. "What?"

Jim's eyes drooped as he contemplated sleeping again, "Salad."

Bones rolled his eyes, "That's something I never thought I'd hear from ya. Well, if you want it so much, I ain't gonna stop ya," and walked off to the side.

He shut his eyes for a second, only to be shaken awake again a millisecond later.

"Hey. Jim. Wake up, you've gotta eat."

He groaned under his breath, "Nooo, I wanna sleep…"

Jim heard someone sigh, before infant was muttered.

"You want Spock to see you like this?"

His eyes flew open at that, "Spock's here?"

McCoy smirked. "Ha. Yeah, he's on his way down, since it's after his shift and all. Now. Eat."

A plate of salad was plonked onto his chest; he glared at it in distaste and frowned at his doctor, "I don't want salad."

Bones threw his hands in the air, "You asked for it, damn it!"

His eyebrows furrowed further, "I did?"

McCoy inhaled sharply, stammering under his breath in frustration before shaking his head and grunting.

"Okay. Here's the deal," he grouched, slamming a hand onto the biobed rail, "Eat something and I'll let you leave tomorrow."

Jim squirmed under McCoy's scrutinizing stare, "But I don't like salad…"

"Then I'll get you something else!"

A rush of energy surged through him, "Something with fries?"

He saw McCoy's very disappointed, displeased, rock-hard expression in response to his request, but evidently something had struck him, as he just sighed and stalked away.

Jim sat up, "So I can?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

That 'promise' (or it was a promise as far as Jim was concerned) apparently came with a price.

When Spock strode into the room meaningfully, began a conversation with McCoy, then caught sight of Jim; he immediately side-blogged over to Kirk and asked him how he was holding up, like a cloned broken record.

It was however a price he was more than willing to pay. He'd pay this price every day. Spock wasn't usually one to let his concern be known.

"Mister Spock…I didn't know you cared!" Jim winked, wincing when a knife of pain shot through his blind eye.

Spock, as usual, used his heritage to defend himself, "I am merely enquiring for the well-being of the Captain," he stated, as if surprised that Jim didn't know this already, "As my duty as first officer, and acting captain, I must ascertain whether you are fit for duty."

Jim snorted, knowing that the Vulcan had just unknowingly opened pandora's box.

"Hey, I'm the doctor here, Spock, I'll tell you whether or not Jim is fit for duty!" Bones chimed in from a distance, clearly overhearing their conversation.

Jim swore he saw Spock minutely frown.

"And he's not," Bones added quickly, rightfully assuming Jim would take that moment to jump out of bed.

Jim frowned, "You told me I was perfectly healthy!" he accused, pouting like a five-year-old who just got their toy taken away.

Bones rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Yeah, physically, perhaps. I've healed your scars as much as I can and mentally you seem fine. You're talking again and that's good," he confirmed, pausing to let them know there was a but to it.

"But, internally I'm a little concerned."

Jim held himself back from throwing a pillow at his doctor in frustration. Even he knew it was childish, but hell, he wanted to punch something.

"That's not fair! You said I could be released if I eat something!"

Bones scowled and stomped towards the bed, "Oh yeah that's right Jim. But there's a lil' problem. You haven't eaten anything!"

True, those fries were still sitting on a plate in front of him. Probably cold by now.

He tried to hide a fry or two under his pillow hoping Bones would notice and think he was eating, but apparently that ingenious plan didn't go as well as hoped.

"Doctor…I request some time alone with the Captain. I must speak with him," Spock enquired calmly, more of a demand than a request.

The doctor glared at the Vulcan for a second, apparently seeming like he was about to argue with him.

But thought the better of it.

"Alright, Spock," he agreed cautiously, pursing his lips before he spoke his next words, "But no…weird Vulcan crap, alright? I won't risk it."

Spock nodded, clasping his hands behind his back and continuing to lock eyes with McCoy with a stoic expression before he scoffed and walked away.

Leaving just Spock and Jim in the room together.

Both men watched each other in silence for at least an entire, long, soul-destroying minute, before Jim's other half decided to pipe up.

"Jim…doctor McCoy has told me you have been behaving eccentrically but is unable to pinpoint the issue."

The blonde clenched his fingers into the sheets, tightening further as Spock continued to glare into his soul.

No-one could know about the blind eye problem. He would get immediately thrown out of Starfleet.

"What kinda…eccentric behaviour, mister Spock?" he asked innocently, knowing full well of his recent jumpiness.

"Doctor McCoy told me that you have been surprised with his presence on numerous occasions, I believe he described it as 'jumping harder than a damn kangaroo', and also implied that you will 'smash the whole damn bed up', eventually."

Jim couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. He never thought he'd hear Spock say something so remarkable.

"Captain?" Spock stopped reciting the words of the grouch and frowned, "Am I correct to assume your finding this humorous means that this is a true occurrence?"

Jim snorted.

"I mean, sure I've jumped when he hit me up with a hypo or two, but I do that anyway," he explained, holding his head to the side defensively, "I always do, you know that, Spock."

Spock clearly had a problem with this, as he just seemed to watch Jim closely for a while and formulate his next great speech.

"Captain, I…believe I know what your problem is, and I must tell you that it is acceptable, and that we will resolve the matter as soon as possible."

Jim literally felt his face drain of blood.

Shit.

He knows I'm half-blind.

"Spock, I…"

"It is of no consequence to me, Captain, we can tell the doctor and—"

"No, Spock," he breathed, closing his eyes and trying to figure out how to tell a rule-abiding Vulcan not to rat his condition out to Bones, "Don't tell him, okay? I just…I'm not ready yet."

"Captain, this will affect the crew. And your working relationship with the doctor,"

Jim was about to butt in and interrupt his surreptitious attempt to get him to admit his flawed self to Bones, however…

"But, we will tell the doctor together, for the good of the crew, that you are afraid of him."

Jim nearly spat out the cold fry he was eating.

"What? Afraid of him?" he spluttered, mortified at the thought, "Spock…Bones is my friend!"

Spock, gazed at him for a second, clearly taken back that he was wrong in his analytical logical thinking.

And then…pulled up a stool, sitting down beside him; ramrod straight.

"I do not like the idea of the Captain being troubled. I would…greatly appreciate the truth in the matter."

Jim swallowed hard, pressing his fingers into the sheets again, eying the forgotten fries as a way to avoid eye-contact.

"I uh…" he began, unable to decide whether or not this was just his emotions getting the better of him and if getting thrown out of the fleet was worth it.

Of course it wasn't, but could Spock keep a secret if he was ordered to?

"When I was down on that planet, with um…Cadel and Ruri, they did something to me and I uh…woke up, with uh, my vision gone—my left eye—just that, I can still see, it's just like, y'know, that one eye…"

"Jim," Spock interrupted him, a rare soft look upon his face, "Why did you not tell someone sooner? Humans find their senses extremely important to them, as must all creatures. If one of their main functions was taken away from them…"

Jim bit the inside of his cheek, internally berating himself for admitting this to his first officer.

"You must tell the doctor immediately so that he is able to rectify this."

Jim found himself shaking his head, regardless of the tempting idea to get his sight back. If that was even possible.

If it wasn't possible then he would immediately lose his job and his entire career. And his whole crew, his family and everyone in it.

But Bones could fix it…he could be suffering for nothing.

"It's a fifty-fifty chance," Jim accidentally concluded out-loud, much to Spock's confusion.

"Fifty-fifty, Captain?"

"Yeah, you know, like uh, fifty percent chance he could fix it and fifty percent he can't."

"I am aware of the saying, Captain. I just did not know what you were referring this 'chance' to."

Jim took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders and slouching back on his biobed.

"I suppose he'd want to get back in here, huh."

Spock agreed, "In a moment, perhaps."

The Captain sighed, rubbing his hands over his face in exasperation.

He really really wanted to get both his eyes in working order again.

"D'ya think he'd give up on me if he couldn't? Like, give up and tell the admirals, so that they can fire me?"

Spock looked taken aback but this, "I would assume not, Jim. I believe he would do all that he can to restore your eye-sight, and if you were to leave the ship, he would leave also," Spock encouraged him, "It is likely he would bend the rules to get the answers he needs, however against it I may be. I will not attempt to stop him, however."

Once again, Jim felt a broad smile wash over him, a new kind of hope blossomed.

"Alright, Spock," he finally agreed, "Let's do it."

When Jim exclaimed let's do it an hour earlier, hiding under a thin blanket and swiping absentmindedly through his PADD in fear of looking at McCoy's intertwining mix of a livid, anxiety-ridden, exasperated emotional face, was not part of his plan.

But alas, he lay curled up in a ball under a blanket with his PADD like a five-year-old not wanting to go to school.

The fact that Bones had yet to yank back his comfort blanket and start screaming into his ear for lying about his blind eye was probably a good sign.

He was also probably still speaking to Spock; the second that Bones had walked into the room and made eye-contact with the Vulcan, Jim had tucked himself away out of sight.

Out of sight out of mind, right?

That was how he hoped it worked in reality, at least.

"JIM!"

Ah, yes, there it was, the bellowing voice of a man who was about to lay upon him a hundred metaphors to exaggerate how stupid he was.

Jim slowly dragged his eyes away from his PADD and glanced at the beads of light shining through under the thin blanket.

"…Yeah?" he accidentally squealed. How unmanly of him.

His shoulders ached from being tensed up for such a long period of time. He tried to focus on that instead of his building anxiety.

"You better have a good explanation for this. It's been two weeks since I dragged your ass back from alien hell, and you never thought to mention you're fuckin' blind?"

Jim's grip on his PADD clenched harder, and he cleared his throat hoping he wouldn't squeak something out again.

"It's only in one eye," he defended himself, as if that was a perfectly good reason not to tell your chief medical officer that your eye-sight is half gone.

"I don't give a damn! Who knows what the reason could be? It might be serious!"

Well, I know what it is and it's not serious, so we're good, Bones.

At least, that was what he thought to himself.

"It's fine, Bones," came out of his mouth instead.

How that intelligent sentence he had formed in his brain filtered out into such mundane crap was beyond him.

"It's not fine, damn it! None of this—the hell are you doing under there—"

Jim didn't have a moment to prepare as the blanket was suddenly ripped over his head, exposing him to the harsh lights of both the medbay and his doctor's face.

The PADD was dropped from his hands as he quickly twisted onto his stomach and slammed his head back into the pillow.

Ah, darkness. Bliss.

"The fact you can't even properly adjust to the light difference is concerning too. You're an idiot, Jim."

Don't I know it.

"I believe it is normal for humans to experience a brief overwhelming sensation when quickly exposed to large differencing amounts of light, is it not?"

Oh, Spock was still here. Good.

"Right, thanks, Spock. If you'll just go ahead and show me your medical degree I'll arrange a lesson with my staff and you can lecture them about your profound findings, since you're a doctor and all."

"I am not a doctor."

"Shut up then!"

Jeez, lay off the poor guy, I'm the one that fucked up.

Like always.

"Jim, if you don't get your head off that pillow, I'm gonna rip it out from under your face and hit you with it."

Ugh.

He moaned his protest loudly into the pillow before beginning the slow, soul-destroying movement of manoeuvring his tired, exhausted muscles onto his back.

At least the lights had been somewhat dimmed. Bones still cared then, no matter how terrible his bedside manner might be.

Jim slowly forced his eyes to meet with McCoy's, who in return was simply just thoughtfully staring at him through furrowed eyebrows, probably trying to come up with a solution to his predicament other than insulting and shouting at people.

When his hard expression softened, and he began striding around to the back of his biobed, Jim knew Bones had come up with a plan in seconds.

"Right, Spock, I want you out," Jim heard from behind him, followed by a series of unfamiliar beeping sounds.

Jim glanced up at Spock to see his reaction, and of course he didn't seem too happy about that.

"Doctor?"

"You heard me, I can't have you in here."

Spock opened his mouth to protest again, but Jim spoke up and waved him off, "It's fine, Spock," he encouraged, smiling when brown eyes locked onto his, "Bones just doesn't want anyone to see him mess up 'cuz he has no idea what he's doing."

He knew he incurred the wrath of the gods when he heard the man shout behind him,

"Damn it, Jim! Do you want me to help you or—"

"Bones…" he cautioned, trying to let him in on the message his joke was trying to convey.

"Oh. Yeah. Well I mean, no, I do know what I'm doing but…" Jim heard a frustrated sigh before an exasperated "get out, Spock, please."

Wordlessly, Spock merely turned around, frowning, still obviously confused with the conversation.

Jim watched the door until it hissed shut, leaving him alone in the room with one angry and tired doctor.

Having nothing else to look at, Jim had no choice but to listen to the incessant beeping and humming of the unknown sounds behind him, his ears tuning in to every step that the doctor made around the bed.

The whole idea of the unknown was ramping up his anxiety, and he knew it was going to soon be obvious to his doctor when the heart-rate monitor, the only beeping he recognised, began to beep faster.

Bones soon resurfaced around to the front of Jim's bed, watching him carefully the entire time.

"You doin' alright?"

Jim nodded feebly into the pillow, pursing his lips and feeling how dry and cracked they were.

Bones nodded back, before turning his attention to the foot of his bed and whipping out a PADD, "I'm gonna run a couple of tests, see what's causin' this," he explained skilfully, eyes locked onto the PADD while he typed onto it, "Unless of course you know why already, which would avoid unnecessary testing, but something tells me you won't say anything either way."

Jim snorted and rolled his eyes. Bones knew him too well.

Bones would find out about the implant in his head either way, but for some reason he just couldn't find it in him to be able to speak about it.

At least with testing, even if it took longer, he wouldn't have to say anything at all, and Bones would find out on his own.

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when the biobed suddenly started rising upright, and he cleverly tried to hide it by swatting at his leg as if he felt something crawling on it.

"I ain't stupid, Jim, I know I scared the shit outta ya."

Jim discontinued hitting his leg and scowled up at McCoy, who had just set his PADD down on the biobed.

"Maybe if you told me when you were doing stuff I wouldn't be so jumpy."

McCoy glared at him, "Maybe if you weren't so damn jumpy I wouldn't have to tell you every single thing I'm doing."

Jim rolled his eyes, "I'm blind in one eye, you telling me you're unable to accustom to a vulnerable patient's needs?"

Bones smiled, "So you do admit it."

Jim scowled, "Maybe I should get another doctor."

"Like hell you are," Bones stalked behind him again, leaving Jim none-the-wiser as to what was going on. The rhythmic beeping he could hear from behind him was beginning to get on his nerves.

When the doctor reappeared into his peripheral vision with a device he'd never seen before, he scowled suspiciously at it. Bones caught sight of him and rolled his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Jim, it's just a damn ophthalmoscope."

Jim blinked.

"It's a what?"

Bones sighed, pulling up a stool and scooting uncomfortably close next to Jim's biobed, "So that I can see the back of ya damned eyes," he explained sardonically, waiting for Jim to stop glaring at the device as if it were a special weapon derived from ancient Klingon heritage.

"Now, stop freaking out like a damned puppy and just look to the left."

Jim wanted to smack that device right out of his hands; but judging by the stern and concentrating look upon the doctor's face, it would probably do nothing but earn him the privilege of being strapped to the damn bed.

So, cautiously and unwillingly, he glanced to his left, tensing up when Bones grabbed his chin to the point where he felt like he was gonna explode.

"Christ, calm down, Jim, I've known kids that deal with this better than you."

Jim fidgeted with his hands and forced out a breath he was holding, "I just don't know what you're doing."

When a bright orange light suddenly pierced his left eyeball a few moments later, it took everything in him not to flinch.

"I told you, I'm just looking at the back of your eye," Bones explained slowly, deep in concentration, "It's routine back down on Earth, especially with kids, so stop being such an infant."

Jim forced himself to unclench his hands, deciding he could at least try to relax since Bones was probably internally suffering for having patience with him.

A few moments later, and he was aware of himself clenching onto the bed sheets again as the seconds ticked on.

"Look to your right."

Jim obeyed quietly.

God, this is worse than getting hyposprays.

At least they're over in a second.

Thank god eye tests aren't mandatory.

When there was absolute silence for 16 seconds straight (yes, he was counting), Jim started scratching at the sheets, desperate to get away.

He was so anxious for some reason, he had no idea why. Perhaps it was people getting all into his personal space.

Just like the Bovis people…

…When they examined me—

"Stop! Stop!" Jim yapped all too quickly, flinching away and wheezing for breath as if just awoken from a nightmare.

When he allowed himself to look at Bones' face, he expected there to be frustration, even anger, but all he could see was concern, eyebrows knitted together trying to figure out what he did wrong.

"You alright?" the other man finally said, the light on the tool fading out as it was automatically turned off.

Jim brought his arms up to his chest and rubbed them feebly, goosebumps forming everywhere.

"Yeah…"

Bones shook his head, placing his device aside and stealing a quick glance up at his monitors.
For reasons unknown to him, Jim was still afraid to move, or even to look away from the specific spot he was staring at.

"You're not okay, you're still panickin' a little. What's wrong?"

Jim felt his stomach flip at the sudden change in bedside manner, used to the witty one-liners and exasperated mannerisms.

"I can't do that again," he pleaded, ego completely out of the window at this point.

Bones looked at him sympathetically, nodding and wheeling to the edge of his biobed again, "I don't need to anyway," he offered, surprising Jim a little, "You've got a detached retina, which explains your blindness in the left eye."

Jim took this in slowly, unsure of how to feel. There wasn't a magical cure when it came to curing organs, he knew Bones would have to stick to the normal methods.

"And that means surgery, right?" he asked slowly, already feeling that dreaded anxiety ramping back up again.

Again, Bones nodded mutely, the expression upon his face having a sense of worry and protectiveness that Jim hadn't seen from the man since they met.

"You're gonna struggle with that, aren't ya?"

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Bones sighed, but smiled and patted Jim's shoulder gently, "S'alright, I can fix it easily, but I absolutely cannot have you flinching away like you did just now, and I can't have you asleep because I won't be able to access your eye properly, so I'll just partially sedate you. That alright with ya?"

Jim nodded again. He knew from past experiences, whether he wanted them or not, that being sedated meant all his anxiety, frustration, anger, sadness and panic would be pushed far away from his body, leaving him in some weak, contented limbo.

This was a rare conversation between the two men, where Jim's walls had collapsed, allowing his emotions to pour out to the man in front of him; and Bones didn't hide his worry and protectiveness for Jim under a coat of cantankerous personality.

"We'll talk about why the hell you're such a damn roller-coaster of emotions after I'm done."

Jim tiredly watched McCoy get out of his seat and march over to the tray of instruments behind him, fiddling with a variety of different tools for several minutes until he picked up a hypospray.

If Jim wanted to avoid hypos back then, it was nothing compared to the thought of them now.

Unconsciously, Jim's fatigued body suddenly flooded his veins with adrenaline as he flailed at the sight of the hypo and tried to get away, nearly falling out of bed doing so.

"Hey hey hey," Bones quickly pocked the device and strode over to him, Jim's eyes still staring at the pocket, "Easy, easy, look at me—calm down, Jim, calm down…"

Jim forced his eyes to look up at McCoy, lips parted as he tried to form a sentence, but he was breathing too fast to get a word out.

He shook his head in denial of the whole situation. What was wrong with him?

Bones' face towered over him, hands pushing against his chest and trying to get him to lay back down.

"S'alright, do you wanna try something different?"

Jim nodded immediately, unable to tolerate even the sight of hyposprays right now.

He pushed away the thoughts that tried to surface to the forefront of his mind—Ruri pinning his drugged body to the exam table and pressing hypo after hypo into his neck to get him unconscious. For some reason, the memory was now a sore point in reality, and he hated it. So much.

Bones returned momentarily with an IV drip, but even that sent another memory spinning around his brain.

It's alright, you won't be able to move around soon anyway, I've just given you a paralytic drug…look, you're drooling already!

Jim's body violently wrenched itself backwards, his torso almost taking a nosedive behind the bed having nearly fallen off the back.

Immediately, Bones, dropped the equipment he was holding and reached around the biobed, slamming a hand on a button which only set off an alarm.

Overwhelmed and confused, Jim gagged and tried to get away from his friend that was trying to approach him, unable to fathom why he was so scared. He didn't understand, this wasn't normal.

Watching Jim nearly fall off the biobed, Bones hit another button on the wall, instantly causing barriers on the biobed to shoot up on all sides.

"Okay, okay, look, no sedatives, alright? No sedatives, see?" Bones lifted his hands up as if in surrender, speaking to him as if talking to a child.

Jim shook his head, raising his arms up in a defensive position as if his friend was about to attack him.

He choked out a sob in confusion and watched his hands shake.

"What's happening to me?!" he nearly screamed, hunched up against the borders of the biobed and hyperventilating.

Bones approached him cautiously, reaching a hand over to Jim's wrist and taking it carefully.

"It's just a panic attack. It's alright, just breathe through it."

Jim made no attempt to shake Bones' hand away from his, but continued heavily breathing and looking around as if he didn't know where he was.

Monitors now wailing in his ears at varying frequencies, Jim cried out in distress in an attempt to block out all the noises, block out all the thoughts that were invading his mind.

He wasn't aware of the on-duty staff answering the button call and striding in, all his body did was fight off anyone that went near him, his mind a haze of confusion and fear.

Several people were trying to speak to him, some of them softly, some of them sternly, his arms were being grabbed, his legs were being pulled down, someone had pinned his chest to the bed and he had no idea who, so he just blindly fought, kicking and hitting, punching and screaming in hope that the invasive behaviour will stop; that the staff will stop surrounding him and examining him, like his own tormenters had done.

Someone was trying to hypo him in the neck, their arm descending towards his face constantly, but even as he hit the offending limb out of the way and screamed at the blue sleeve, it still returned seconds later to try again. Flashes of memory from his captors invaded his mind; he didn't want to be pinned down and sedated, used for information and watched through an implant, blinded and hurt, judged and at the mercy of his captors for the rest of his life.

Distantly, he felt it—someone taking his forearm, but this one felt different. It was as if this attacking hand wasn't like the rest of them. He vaguely felt himself jolting his arm away, automatically, as if it wasn't him that was controlling his movements.

But the feeling on his arm grew stronger, the sensation of whatever it was that had grasped his arm bringing some sort of grounding. His arm stopped fighting, eventually falling limp at his side, and the grasp on his forearm grew stronger. A pressure began on his head, as if five fingers were all delicately placed over his face, and he could feel every single one of them. More pressure was applied, gently forced into his PSI points, and immediately his entire body went limp and sagged against the bed.

His arms and legs were floppy, and his head was too heavy to move. Distantly he could still feel and hear himself breathing rapidly, but he couldn't control it.

Above him, his hazy vision—at least the vision from his right eye—cleared somewhat, the blurry images forming into shapes and colours, until finally he was able to tell what he was looking at.

Spock was to his right, his hand still firmly placed on his head, as if too afraid to see what would happen if he let go. Bones was on his left, looking absolutely mortified by what he'd just experienced. Behind him were several other white-clad figures moving around and talking amongst themselves, but Jim was too tired to focus on what they were saying.

It seems Spock heard the commotion after watching the onslaught of doctors rushing around, and had followed them into his room.

Jim was staring right at him, trying to make his lips speak his name, but the words just wouldn't come.

TBC...

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