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When they beamed back to the transporter room, a medical team was waiting, and McCoy wasted no time in getting Jim on the gurney, shouting orders to the nurses to get him back to Medbay.

Everyone else followed behind, and were quickly shuffled to waiting biobeds by April and M'Benga, but none of them had more than lingering headaches, and some scrapes and bruises from the explosions.

However, even after they had been cleared, they all stuck around, waiting for McCoy to reemerge from the private room he had taken Jim into.

The doctor kept them waiting for nearly an hour, but when he finally came out, he was quick to reassure them that it wasn't as bad as it looked.

"Some minor internal bleeding, a couple of fractured ribs, lacerations, and a whole lot of bruising," he informed them. "Easy fix, I've seen him sustain a hell of a lot worse in hand-to-hand combat classes back at the Academy."

They all let out sighs of relief, as McCoy ordered them all to leave. "The idiot's sedated," he said brusquely. "There's no point in you all hanging around here cluttering up my Medbay. He'll be out for another few hours."

Knowing better than to argue with the grumpy doctor, most of them left, with plans to return once they had eaten and changed clothes. McCoy knew it too, but he was too tired to argue.

Carol didn't say anything as she determinedly made her way to the biobed McCoy and the nurses had moved Jim to. She sat down on the edge and grasped his hand gently, studying his peaceful expression and noting the way he seemed so serene when medicated; she had never seen him this still before.

McCoy set a tray down on the table next to the biobed, causing Carol to jump slightly and look up. The doctor smiled slightly. "I won't force you to leave," he said softly. "I know it wouldn't work. But you should eat something."

Carol looked over at the tray, and noted that it held a plate of what looked like pasta with chicken and vegetables. "Thanks," she whispered, hesitantly taking a few bites, while still maintaining a firm grip on Jim's hand.

McCoy watched her silently for a few minutes, before he let out a short breath of air. "You love him, don't you."

Carol looked at him, surprised. After a moment, she lowered her eyes, turning back to her boyfriend. She didn't know how to even begin to untangle the knot of emotions in her chest. Did she love him? She knew she enjoyed spending time with him. She liked him, a lot, even if she could barely admit it to herself. But love? She had never really been serious about any of her boyfriends before, not like she was with Jim. She found herself thinking about him at all hours of the day. She would be lying in her bed at night and imagining he was there next to her; she'd be working on a project in the science labs and suddenly start wishing he was there keeping her company.

McCoy watched her think for a minute, before he stood up and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He squeezed briefly, and then walked away, leaving the couple alone.

Carol was glad for the solitude. McCoy had suddenly thrown her thoughts into turmoil, as she tried to unravel the feelings threatening to cut off her air supply. She needed Jim to wake up. She needed to see him open his eyes. She needed to hear him tell her that he was fine. Even if she knew it wasn't true, there was something reassuring about knowing how often he would spout that irritating line in the process of trying to convince them that this whole ordeal hadn't affected him in the slightest.

It was almost an hour later when McCoy returned, pulling a seat over so that he was on Jim's free side, and settling into it with barely a glance in Carol's direction, instead focusing his attention on the PADD in his hands.

It wasn't too much longer after that, when Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura returned, taking a seat on the next biobed over as they nodded greetings to McCoy; Scotty made an appearance about half an hour after they arrived, coming up from Engineering after being informed of McCoy's estimation for when Jim would wake up from Uhura. Spock wasn't too far behind, returning from the planet once his calculations indicated the Emperor had things well in hand.

Carol barely noticed their arrival, continuing to focus on her unconscious boyfriend.

Less than half an hour after everyone had gathered once more, Jim began to stir. Carol squeezed his hand tightly, straightening in her seat as she watched his eyelids flutter.

A minute later, he opened his eyes, and seemed surprised to see so many people crowded around, but didn't comment as McCoy was immediately there, running a tricorder and making note of anything that was even slightly off of normal.

"So what's the prognosis?" Jim asked amusedly, knowing as well as McCoy that there was nothing seriously wrong with him.

Indeed, the doctor scowled down at his Captain and put the tricorder away. "You'll be able to leave by morning," he acquiesced grumpily, before turning to the crowd. "All of you get out. It's late, we're all tired, and this idiot needs rest."

No one wanted to test McCoy's wrath when he was in this mood. After quietly expressing their relief that he was all right, Jim's friends left. Carol was the last to depart, leaning over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, and promising to come back in the morning. She didn't want to go, but even she knew when it wasn't worth arguing with the CMO. And right now, the doctor looked about one step away from a broken jaw, it was clenched so hard.

Yeah, it wasn't worth losing a body part over. Carol was a smart woman. She left Medbay at a brisk walk.

McCoy was silent for several minutes as he continued to give Jim a check over; even though there were machines that could perform the same tasks, he had always found a certain comfort in taking a patient's pulse by hand, using a stethoscope to listen to a heartbeat. It just felt more real and tangible to him, than simply reading numbers off of a tricorder.

Jim let him do it, because he knew his friend.

After several more minutes filled with tense silence, Jim knew he should probably get the doctor to speak; McCoy needed to blow off steam every once in a while, or he would spontaneously combust from all the pent-up emotions. "Are you all right?" he asked hesitantly. He was always willing to be the verbal punching bag that McCoy needed, but he didn't really have the mental fortitude to take on the job at this exact moment. He was still reeling from the emotional turmoil that had come with immersing his mind in the memories of Tarsus. He would be fine with a good night's sleep, but he doubted he'd get that tonight, not if he had to stay in Medbay. And probably not even if he was safe in his own room. It would take some time to get the mask back up, but Jim knew he would be able to do it. He had always managed before, after all.

That simple query seemed to be all the doctor needed to crack. He set his PADD down harshly on the side table and glared at Jim. "You bloody idiot." Jim raised an eyebrow, and McCoy huffed angrily. "You're asking me? After everything that just happened down there?"

Jim bit his lip, his gaze falling to his lap. "Bones…"

McCoy growled. "Don't. Don't try to patronize me, or placate me. I knew." Jim glanced up, and McCoy shook his head. "I knew, in the abstract sense, that you knew how to deal with pain. That you're used to it. I hate it, and I never asked or pushed for more details, because I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't tell me anyway. But there's a difference between knowing and knowing. And I never realized how much that entailed. For Christ's sake, Jim, you never made a sound."

He sounded so broken by the end, that Jim just had to comfort him. "I'm fine, Bones. Promise." McCoy looked up and took a deep breath as if to argue, but Jim shook his head, sighing slightly. "I wasn't, for a while," he admitted; the words felt painful as they came out of his mouth, but he knew he needed to say it, to get Bones to calm down. "But I was able to put it all in a box and set it aside. Really, you don't have to worry about me."

McCoy glared at him. "I always worry about you," he retorted. "You're a foolish disaster-prone idiot, and it's my job to clean up after your messes." Jim let out a light snort, and McCoy's gaze softened. "I won't ever press you for details, Jim. You're my best friend, and if you want to talk, I'm always here."

Jim nodded quickly, his gaze skittering away to focus on the far wall. McCoy let out a soft sigh, but didn't say anything else, simply pulling the light blanket up further so that it covered the lower half of Jim's chest, and giving him one last worry-filled look before he disappeared into his office.

Jim waited a few minutes before he reached over and grasped the PADD McCoy had left on the side table, typing out a short note for the doctor. That act done, he sucked in a deep breath and stood up quickly, willing himself not to react to the sudden flash of pain that ran its way up his back and down his arms.

He knew he should stay in Medical overnight, like McCoy wanted, but he also knew how to read the computer readouts on his biobed, and an overnight stay wasn't really strictly necessary. Moreover, he knew what would come the moment he did fall asleep, and he did not want an audience for that.

This whole experience had brought up too many long-buried emotions and memories of Tarsus, and Jim needed time alone to sort through it and set it all aside once more.

So with one last glance at the closed CMO office door, he left the PADD on the empty bed, and made his way to the exit as quickly and quietly as possible.

He was fortunate enough to encounter no one on his way back to his quarters – it was getting pretty late, and most of Alpha shift was in bed already, and Beta was on duty. Anyone working Gamma shift would likely either be in the mess or one of the rec rooms. Jim knew he ran the risk of being spotted, but he was counting on nobody questioning whether or not he had been released from Medbay just yet.

He was the Captain, and that tended to give him a lot of leeway with most of his crew. Other than the command crew, who were likely already in bed, every other crew member would do little more than snap off a sharp salute as they passed him in the hall.

But it was late enough that he saw no one, and he quickly entered his quarters, setting the lock to turn away all but a medical override – even if he really didn't want to talk to or see anyone for the next twelve hours at least, he would never completely lock McCoy out.

That act done, he changed into a pair of comfortable sweats, leaving his chest bare. It was still a little sore, and he didn't want to risk irritating the fading wounds by covering them with any fabric. He lay down on his bed and forced himself to close his eyes.

Unbidden, the memories washed over him. He was fourteen, hanging from a chain as two guards beat him to near unconsciousness while Kodos loomed over him, asking him questions. He watched helplessly as his cousin Lisa was brutally attacked and murdered. Months of starvation, fear, panic, dread, and desperation. His aunt and uncle, Lisa, Anya, Hoshi, so many other innocent people, killed.

His fault. He and Tom had found the fungus, but he was the one who told Kodos. He was the one who believed the governor when the man said he would take care of it. He had waited too long, trusted Kodos' lies. He hadn't been able to protect his crew and Anya had died. He was the reason Kevin and Lisa had gotten caught.

Kodos, smiling serenely as his guards whipped Jim until there wasn't an unmarked area on his back, watching with parental disappointment as Jim refused to answer his questions, observing sorrowfully as the guards carved Jim up with a razor sharp knife and pressed a red-hot iron to his chest, his back, and in one agonizing instance, thrust it through his side, the hot metal searing and cauterizing the wound even as it pierced the skin.

God damn it. Jim rubbed a hand weakly across his face in an effort to scrub the memories away, while unbidden, the other hand moved to finger the knot of white scar tissue on his hip, recalling the fire inside as the metal pierced his skin.

After a minute of wasted effort, he knew the memories wouldn't be so easily pushed down.

With a sigh, the Captain levered himself out of bed, and made his way to his living room area, where the low table was stacked high with PADDs. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well do something productive.

XXX

Hours must have passed, but Jim didn't realize how much time he had spent reading over reports and filling out paperwork until a hesitant knock sounded at his door.

He looked up, startled, and set the PADD down, stopping briefly to pick up a discarded sweatshirt and pull it on before he answered the door.

Pavel was waiting on the other side, and Jim almost let out a resigned sigh, but managed to hold it in and keep his expression neutral as he waved the Navigator inside.

Pavel fidgeted nervously as Jim led him over to the couch. They both sat down, and Jim attempted a reassuring smile that didn't do much to put the younger man at ease.

Pavel bit his lip, his gaze focused on his lap. "Doctor McCoy has ordered us all to take today off," he informed the Captain, "even though none of us are really injured."

Jim shrugged lightly. "It's a good idea," he said softly. "You could all use the rest."

"And you?" Pavel asked, finally looking up, his eyes wide with worry.

Jim grimaced. "I'm fine," he promised. "I'm sure Bones would disagree, but I know my own body. Trust me. I've had worse."

He regretted saying that last part; after what was admittedly a restless night of burying himself in work so that he wouldn't have to do anything to get himself under control, his mental acuities weren't exactly back to normal yet.

His communicator dinged, and with an apologetic shrug, Jim quickly picked the device up and read the message from McCoy. It was short and abrasive, informing him that he was off duty for the next three days, and if he set even one toe on the Bridge before McCoy officially cleared him, the doctor would make it a week. It then berated him for leaving Medbay without permission, but Jim knew that Bones understood; if the doctor hadn't, he would have come down to Jim's quarters last night to drag him back. Bones knew why Jim didn't want to stay, and his lack of communication until now told the Captain he wasn't really mad, just concerned.

Jim glanced up and offered Pavel a smile. "Looks like I've got three days," he informed the Ensign.

Pavel returned the smile weakly, but his heart wasn't really in it. Jim let out a soft sigh, and waited for the inevitable inquisition.

It took another minute for Pavel to work up his courage to ask. "That wasn't the first time, was it?" Jim raised an eyebrow, and Pavel sniffed slightly. "You never talk about what happened back on…" he couldn't even make himself say the name, especially not after seeing the way Jim stiffened with just the slightest allusion to that godforsaken planet. Pavel gave a one-shouldered shrug. "You were… weren't you?"

He didn't need to be specific, Jim knew what he was talking about, but he couldn't do this. He swallowed harshly and let the far wall draw his gaze. "I've had way worse than what those assholes down there did yesterday," he said quietly, knowing that probably wasn't very reassuring.

Indeed, Pavel flinched violently, and looked down. "That doesn't make me feel better," he replied dryly.

Jim gave a halfhearted chuckle. "I'm fine, Pasha," he promised. "A few bumps and bruises, nothing life-threatening. Seriously, kid, don't worry so much."

Pavel still didn't look completely convinced, but he let Jim steer the conversation in another direction, and they spent another hour talking about some experiments in the science labs.

When the Navigator finally left, he definitely looked and felt better. So did Jim, in fact. Getting out of his head and talking about something not related to this most recent experience or his previous one without a doubt had helped him put some of it back in the box. He would be fine by the time he returned to active duty, as long as he didn't have to talk to anyone too much in the interim.

Jim knew how his friends all dealt with their issues; he was observant, and he always tried to be the best friend he could be, so he knew how to handle their moods – Bones would barricade himself in his room and drink an entire bottle of whisky while cursing whatever or whoever it was that was causing him problems.

Scotty would bury himself in the Engineering deck, working on any miniscule issue that he could find, and performing questionably legal upgrades that he really should get approval for first, but Jim always let him do it and let it slide because if there was one person he trusted with the Enterprise more than himself, it was Scotty.

Gaila would find the nearest willing being – male, female, or otherwise – and have sex.

Sulu liked to work himself to exhaustion in the gym, mostly by sparring with any willing opponents, using whatever medium he could – fencing, hand-to-hand, boxing, or other. He liked to be around people, to work out his issues physically and mentally.

Pavel usually buried himself in math, or came to Jim with his issues, depending on the situation.

Spock meditated, usually preferring to deal with any problems on his own, though Jim had been getting better at drawing him out by offering to play the Vulcan in chess. Those matches had become more vocal, and Spock was slowly starting to bring his issues to his Captain when they arose.

Kevin would come to Jim, no matter what. Jim was like his older brother, and he always trusted that no problem was too small for the Captain to help with.

April chose to get lost in some medical journal, reading about the latest discoveries and ignoring whatever was bothering her until it either went away, or she couldn't anymore. If it was the latter, she would generally go to him or McCoy to talk it out.

And Uhura liked to talk about it immediately, work through it, and move on. She tended to go to either Jim, Spock, or Gaila, depending on the issue.

Jim was still figuring Carol out, but he knew that she was a straightforward person, and much like Uhura in that she preferred to get whatever was bothering her out in the open so that they could deal with it.

So Jim knew how each of his friends coped, but he also knew that he was different from all of them, and he just needed them to let him figure his shit out on his own. Jim didn't like to talk about it, he didn't want to socialize, and he didn't want to get drunk.

He just needed time to himself to gather each and every turbulent emotion and horrible memory and shove it back into the dark corner of his mind labeled 'don't go there, asshole'. Sure, the common sense part of his brain knew that it wasn't healthy, but it had worked fairly well for him so far, so he didn't feel the need to mess with his screwed up system. He just needed to be alone so that he didn't have to worry about putting on a front for anyone else, because as much as he liked and trusted his friends, he still wasn't comfortable letting them see him like this.

Fortunately, they all decided to leave him alone for most of the day; Jim suspected either Pavel or Bones had told them not to bother him.

It was late evening when his door chimed, informing him of a visitor. With a weary sigh, Jim answered the door, surprised to see Kevin standing nervously on the other side.

He gestured for the younger man to enter, and they stood awkwardly by the door for several minutes, neither one seeming to want to take the initiative to speak.

Finally, Kevin drew in a deep breath. "Pavel told me what happened," he said bluntly.

Jim grimaced, but shrugged. "I'm fine," he said simply, but by the look on Kevin's face, he wasn't very convincing. Honestly, Jim really wasn't sure how much of that statement was really true, and he knew that Kevin knew that as well.

Kevin bit his lip, fidgeting slightly as he briefly considered whether or not he should contradict the older man. Finally, he let out a short huff of air. "You don't owe any of us anything, Jim," he reassured. "But you know you don't have to deal with everything alone. I'll see you later, yeah?"

He didn't wait for a response, and just rested a hand lightly on Jim's shoulder for half a second, before he left.

Jim stood there for a few moments longer, gaze focused on the closed door, thinking about how much Kevin had grown up from that terrified little boy he had tried so hard to protect – had failed to protect – all those years ago.

With another weary sigh, he finally dragged himself back to his bedroom, hoping that sleep would come a little easier tonight. He sent a brief comm. to Carol before lying down, promising her that he was fine, and telling her that he just needed a little time to himself, but he'd see her tomorrow. Her response was full of understanding, alleviating Jim's worries that he would drive her away with his inability to open up or let her see him while he was still processing. He hoped she was all right; after all, getting kidnapped and forced to watch someone you care about tortured couldn't be pleasant. But the tone of her message sounded fine, if a little hesitant, and she offered to stop by at some point the next day, which he quickly accepted, not wanting to risk further alienating his girlfriend.

XXX

Chris waited until the next day to comm. him. Jim was eager to have an excuse to set the paperwork aside and took the call willingly, even if he was a little apprehensive about what the Admiral might want to discuss.

Chris, for his part, had read through the reports that had been filed by all members of the away team, and was sickened to draw similarities to the half-dead teenager he had found abandoned in a torture chamber all those years ago.

Jim looked healthy but tired when he accepted the call, and Chris immediately furrowed his brow in concern. "You all right, kid? You look like you haven't slept in days."

Jim grimaced slightly, knowing that the Admiral wasn't that far off the mark. He hadn't been able to get more than an hour of sleep last night, before he put on some workout clothes and headed to the ship's gym. When he had returned to his quarters hours later, well before anyone might actually see him working out and tattle to McCoy, he didn't exactly feel better or more relaxed, but he had been successful at exhausting himself enough that the memories were no longer at the forefront of his mind.

Knowing that Chris was still waiting for an answer, Jim just offered up a halfhearted shrug. "I'm fine," he placated, hoping he sounded more convincing than he thought he did. He had really been saying that way too much lately.

Chris raised an eyebrow skeptically. "It's me, Jim. I'm not an Admiral right now, and I'm not your superior officer. It's just me. You don't have to lie, or pretend. This call is encrypted, no one can listen in or record it. I read the reports, and I know what you're going through right now. You don't have to tell me anything, but you know I would never judge you."

Jim fidgeted slightly, looking down to avoid the understanding shining in the older man's eyes. He wasn't used to people knowing what he wanted, and more than that, actually listening to what he wasn't saying and letting him control the situation.

Chris waited several minutes, wanting to prove to Jim that he meant what he said. He wanted the kid to talk to him, but he would never force Jim to do something he didn't want to do. That was why he had never pushed back then, why he had done nothing beyond offer the teenager a bed when he had shown up after running away from Riverside, why he hadn't tried to get him to stay or called anyone, and hadn't looked for him when the kid had disappeared sometime in the night after Chris had patched him up.

Finally, Jim let out a weary sigh and slumped down in his seat, resting his elbows on the table and scrubbing one hand across his face in an effort to get rid of the burning sensation behind his eyes. It didn't work.

"I've tried really hard to put behind me," he admitted quietly. "I thought I had." Chris winced sympathetically, wanting nothing more than to be there in person so that he could give the younger man a hug. Jim groaned tiredly and glanced up, his bloodshot eyes meeting the Admiral's worried gaze through the comm. "I really thought I was over it," he said, his tone seeking approval, or maybe absolution. "I moved on, I put it away and I refused to let it rule my life. I thought I was fine, but then…" He looked down, swallowing harshly. "I was back there, and he was the one standing over me." Chris knew exactly what he was talking about, even if Jim couldn't bring himself to actually speak the name. "It brought everything back, and now… maybe I'm not as over it as I thought?"

Chris let out a gusty sigh. "I'm sorry Jim. I wish I was there. You know I'm always here to talk, but I know it'd be easier if it was face to face. It probably doesn't feel like it, but talking does help. Is there anyone there you could go to? I'm sure any of your friends would be a good sounding board."

Jim winced and shook his head. "I can't." He looked slightly panicked, and Chris knew he had maybe put a toe over the line. "They don't… They wouldn't… I can't tell them."

Chris leaned forward slightly. "What about someone who already knows? Ensign Riley, or maybe Doctor Vanderbilt? Ensign Chekov could be another possibility."

Jim just kept shaking his head. "They don't need to… I don't want them to…" He didn't seem to be able to finish the sentence, but Chris thought he understood.

Jim always felt like he had to be the strong one, and back on Tarsus, he had been the leader. Jim didn't want Riley to see the man who had saved him as anything less than strong and whole. Same with the other two, though Chris thought that he might be more willing to talk to Doctor Vanderbilt, if push came to shove. Those two were the closest in age, and April had been one of the leaders on Tarsus as well.

"You don't have to, Jim," he tried to placate the Captain. "I just thought it might help. But it's your life, and you know you better than anyone else. Please know that you can contact me any time though, OK? Don't be a stranger, I miss you."

Jim flinched minutely, feeling bad that he hadn't been talking to the Admiral as much lately, as he had in the year immediately following his promotion to Captain. "Sorry," he apologized, but Chris waved it off, understanding that sometimes out in the black, time tended to flow together and lose meaning. "I should probably get going, but I'll try to comm. you soon."

Chris nodded. "Get some sleep, Jim. You look like you could use it."

Jim grimaced, but inclined his head, and signed off.

Interestingly enough, he did feel slightly better, and briefly considered Chris' claim that talking helped. So maybe the Admiral had a point, but Jim didn't see himself ever actually being able to tell his friends about his time on Tarsus. He couldn't talk to Kevin or Pavel either; he was a leader to them. They didn't need to know how affected he had been, still was, by that planet. They didn't need to know that he still had nightmares, that he was self-conscious whenever he went without a shirt, that he felt incredibly disconnected to the rest of the universe.

He could call Tom. He always liked talking to his first First Officer, and he didn't feel like he had to hold anything back with the man. They had been leaders together on that planet, and Tom understood his hesitation at letting anyone else in. But Tom was busy too, and didn't need to deal with all of Jim's crap.

Maybe he could have dinner with April sometime. While he had technically led her as well, she had been their CMO, and had shouldered a great deal of burden on that planet. She might understand better than anyone else on the Enterprise, but it was still different. No one could really relate to the weeks of torture he had endured. The horrible betrayal of having a man he had looked up to as a parental type of figure use him, have men tear his skin open, break bones, burn him, mutilate him, and then leave him for dead. No one truly understood what he had gone through on that planet, not even Chris, as much as the older man tried.

But Kodos had been like a father. Or what he imagined a father could be like, at least before he had met Chris. He had made Jim feel special, wanted, important. He had made Jim feel like he mattered, and that was something Jim had never known before Tarsus.

He had lost so much more than a few pounds and a lot of blood on that planet. He wouldn't say he had lost his innocence, because he didn't think he'd ever had that – how could he, when his mother and brother had let him know from the moment he had been born, that it was his fault his father was dead?

But he had lost a sense of belonging, and the first family he had ever known. On Tarsus, he had almost thought he could actually depend on other people for things. But then his aunt and uncle had been killed, and Kodos had betrayed him so completely, and he just decided that it wasn't worth it.

It wasn't until recently that he had started to reevaluate that opinion. With Bones, and Uhura, and Spock, Scotty, Sulu, Pavel, and especially Carol. Maybe he was supposed to be able to rely on other people. Maybe every lesson he had had punched, hammered, and beaten into him was wrong. It was an interesting thought.

Jim was drawn from his thoughts by the chime of his door, and he quickly hurried over to let Carol in.

The Lieutenant looked nervous and concerned as she followed Jim back to the living room, taking a seat next to him hesitantly. "I'm sorry I haven't come by earlier," she said softly, looking down at her lap.

Jim reached over and grasped her hand gently, smiling slightly when she looked up and met his gaze. "It's fine," he replied. Carol raised an eyebrow, and Jim shrugged. "I'm fine, Carol. I know it must have been really scary for you, and I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Carol immediately jerked back, staring at him incredulously. "Seriously Jim? You were tortured, and you're apologizing?"

Jim grimaced but nodded slightly. "Sorry?"

Carol sighed and rolled her eyes. "Jim, I didn't come here looking for comfort. I was terrified, watching you get hurt down there. I was angry, furious even, and I hated seeing you go through that. I came here today to make sure you are all right."

Jim slumped slightly, his shoulders dropping, to Carol's immediate concern. "I'm fine," he said again. "Really. I know how it looked down there, but I promise, I'm all right."

Carol frowned, shifting so that she was closer to her boyfriend. "Jim… you didn't make a sound. I know you've got a past, we all do… but throughout all that, you didn't make a sound… I just…" she looked down, wilting as she lost momentum. "I never want to make you uncomfortable or push you to tell me more than you're willing, it was just… unexpected."

Jim forced himself to take a deep breath before responding, knowing that Carol wanted answers, but not quite willing to take that step just yet.

Finally, he grimaced and looked up, his expression understanding but with a hint of steel behind his bright blue gaze that told Carol she probably wouldn't be getting any real answers today. "Carol, I know what you want, but I just…" He looked away, swallowing harshly. "Please don't ask me. Because if you do, there's a chance I might actually tell you, and I can't."

Carol was definitely curious now, but more important than satisfying her curiosity was making sure Jim was all right. She wanted to know, but she didn't want to know at the expense of her boyfriend.

"It's OK," she murmured, leaning forward to give him a light hug. Pulling back, she smiled softly and grasped his hand reassuringly. "Jim, it's all right. I do want to know whatever it is you're hiding, but I want you to be comfortable telling me. I won't force anything. You're allowed to have secrets, as much as I wish you could trust me when I say that whatever it is won't make me leave. I hope that someday, you will believe me."

Jim flinched slightly. He liked Carol, a lot, but self-preservation always won out. He had spent years burying everything and refusing to deal with it. He had convinced himself that his friends would never treat him the same if they knew, and it wasn't easy to change that belief. He didn't want to deal with their pity, or even worse, shame or disappointment. Maybe they wouldn't actually treat him that way, but he didn't want to take that chance.

Carol sighed resignedly. "I should let you get some sleep. Unless you want me to stay?"

Jim bit his lip, considering. He did want her to stay, but he was hesitant to risk questions or her seeing a nightmare. He was exhausted though, and he really needed a good night's sleep; maybe Carol could help with that.

He smiled slightly, and stood up, pulling Carol to her feet. "Stay," he said quietly, leading her back to the bedroom.

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