As much as McCoy hated it, Jim was a master at hiding what he felt. There had been too many times when he had been hurt, mentally or physically, and had been too stubborn to let anyone – specifically McCoy – know about it. And this time was no different.
Leighton, the sick bastard that he was, had been moved down to the cell block as soon as he had awoken, which had been right after Jim. There had been a moment when the two of them were both awake, just looking at each other with rage. And maybe it was the drugs, but as soon as Leighton was taken away, there was a change in Jim's face – from rage to sadness. But then again, McCoy didn't think it was the drugs.
Jim was healing – physically, at least – surprisingly quickly. However, he spent the first four days in sickbay after waking up in a drug addled haze, usually muttering to himself or dozing off. This wasn't unusual. Jim had a pretty high tolerance for drugs, but after a certain level it was like they affected him way too much – so he was either in pain or loopy as hell. And when Jim had hurt himself this bad, McCoy would much rather he be a little high. What was more worrisome was how he acted around others.
As a person, Jim was touchy and relished connections with others. And now he did what he could. He smiled when it was called for, and talked as best as he could with the crew members who dropped by to say hello. But McCoy couldn't help noticing that Jim would flinch when he touched him, and stayed quiet when other people weren't around. He was being complacent, and that felt weird. A quiet Jim was just wrong. That's how he went if he was really upset.
McCoy walked up to Jim's biobed. "Hey, kid," he said cheerfully, shaking Jim out of his thoughts. "How're you feeling?"
"Crappy. Can we stop these meds already?" Jim replied, scowling.
McCoy looked over his chart. "Hey, lighten up! We'll slow 'em down tomorrow, ok? I just don't want you feeling that hole in your gut."
Jim sighed and looked past McCoy before frowning and seemingly forcing himself to focus on his friend's face. "How's Leighton?"
"Don't worry about him. He's getting his just desserts. You just need to focus on getting better."
Jim's scowl deepened. "I don't need you treating me like I'm about to break. I can handle myself."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
"I've been through this before. This is nothing new."
"What's nothing new?" the doctor frowned.
Jim looked away. "I should have seen it coming. This is all my fault," he added bitterly.
"No!" uttered McCoy, feeling his heart twist in his chest. It was true that Jim ended up in a few too many messes, but as much as he liked to gripe Jim couldn't be blamed for what had happened to him. He turned Jim's chin towards him. "Look at me. None of this is your fault. Not your parents, Frank, or Kodos. And not Leighton. You did everything you should have done. You took care of a boy on Tarsus who was struggling to stay alive, and you brought him under your wing years later on this ship. Leighton did a brilliant job of hiding who he really was, but he wasn't the man you believed. You did nothing to ask for what he did to you, ya hear me?"
But instead of the response he was hoping for, Jim shook himself out of his friend's grasp and looked down at the bedsheets silently.
"What is it?" McCoy asked softly, sitting in the chair beside his friend's bed. As he watched Jim's face closely, he was shocked to see tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He reached forward to put a hand on his back, but Jim flinched away and blinked quickly, and he brought it back to his lap. "Please, Jim. Talk to me."
There was a long pause and Jim took a shaky breath. "How do I know?"
"How do you know what?" Leonard responded quickly.
Jim looked at a space by his feet. "If I can trust you?"
McCoy felt like someone had stolen his breath, and he remembered vividly Leighton telling him how Jim would never truly trust him. At this point, he didn't blame him. How many people had betrayed Jim's trust at this point?
"Listen, Jim," he said softly. "I want you to know, even if you don't believe me now, that I will never take advantage of you. How anyone could is beyond me. There's nothing I've worked harder for or appreciate more than your trust in me, however much that is. And even if you don't trust me now, I'll understand. I can wait to prove to you that I won't turn my back on you. I promise."
Jim's breathing hitched, and he started crying silently. This time, when McCoy went to hug him, he didn't pull away.
Spock watched silently as Jim performed his duties on the bridge. It had been three weeks since Jim had regained consciousness, and Doctor McCoy had cleared him for light duty. The Captain sat in his chair, reading files and acquisitions and approving changes. He seemed calm and composed, yet drawn. He was thinner than he had been before his encounter with Leighton, and Spock wondered if he had been eating enough. He would have to ask the Doctor.
The most startling thing, however, was how familiar this scene looked to him. The lights of the ship, the sounds of working crew members, and the pale face of his captain. Spock frowned as Jim reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and he realized with clarity that nothing had changed. Before they had ever gone down to Georgianna, and before Jim had been met with the betrayal of his friend, he had been the same. Though he hid them well, Spock knew what to look for – the persisting headaches, the thin features, and the tired eyes were all too familiar signs of Jim's discomfort.
Jim had been laden down with work before, and now he was laden down with something much worse – his own thoughts.
After Jim's shift ended, he passed on the conn and left the room via the turbolift. Spock followed closely behind, and the door closed just as Spock stepped in.
Jim looked up at his first officer. "What is it Spock?"
Spock looked carefully into the eyes of his friend and cursed himself for not being more aware. He knew that psychic attacks left deep scars that took long to heal. He had offered his services to Jim, of course, but the captain had refused, and Spock had not pushed the matter any further. But he knew now that he should have. He had not seen what was happening in Jim's mind since they had removed Leighton. Who knew what Jim had begun thinking about the event.
"Spock?"
Spock blinked. "I wish to offer up my services again to you, Captain. I know better than most the effects of a psychic attack, and using a mind meld could assist you in the healing process."
Jim's features went hard. "Spock, we've been over this. I can handle this on my own."
"But why do you need to?"
Jim's mouth opened, and then closed again. "I need to do this alone because I need to know how to do it."
Spock's eyebrows contracted. "Captain, you know I will always be available to assist you, should anything like this happen again. You need not suffer in silence."
"That's my point! What if I need to do this on my own, because –" Jim broke off and pressed his lips into a firm line. But Spock understood what he was trying to say.
"You mean, what if I was the one who hurt you?" he said softly. Jim's silence was answer enough. "Jim, I know you have suffered greatly at the hands of those you trusted most, but believe me when I say that there is nothing I would not do to keep you safe, and no scenario where I would break your trust."
Jim looked up at him, his gaze softer now. "I know that, Spock. And I know that Bones would never take advantage of me, or Sulu, or Uhura, or Chekhov, or anyone else on this ship. But I knew that about Tom, too. How am I supposed to rely on you when relying on you could mean this story starts all over again?"
Spock nodded. "Sometimes a leap of faith is a necessary evil. If you never trust us completely, there is nothing we can do to show you that we will never betray you. Yet you may see that if you do put your trust in us, you will see what has always been there. It is a choice you must make, and I trust you to make the right one." Jim frowned and said nothing. "Let me know if you would like my help to advance your healing. I will see you back on the bridge soon."
The turbolift had been dinging for them to get out for some time now, and when Jim did the doors slid closed again, taking Spock back to the bridge.
Bones and Spock had asked him to join them for dinner, but instead Jim stared at his dark ceiling, considering the empty place in his heart.
As a child, Jim had been malleable and sweet natured and trusting. He did what he was told and tried his best to get others to love him. When Frank first arrived in the Kirk household, he had been a welcome presence for Jim. Unlike his mother and his brother, Frank paid attention to him, and at first Jim had relished his care. But when Frank began to drink, Winona never came back from her voyage, and Sam ran away, Jim had experienced his first instance of betrayal.
When Captain Pike visited one Christmas to find the house deserted save for a man unconscious in his own vomit and a boy nursing his wounds in the corner, Jim found himself on Tarsus, and Frank found himself behind bars. Kodos was a kind man. He taught Jim a great many things, and again Jim sought out the attention and love that he had been deprived of for so long. And this time, when he found himself in Kodos' basement being tortured over stealing food to help his friends, he became someone different. Someone with a hard outer shell who wouldn't turn to anyone for help.
Except Tom had already been attached to Jim before that shell was formed, and the events on Tarsus had only made Jim trust in the boy more. Anyone who had shared in that horrible time was someone who could be trusted. At least, that's what he thought.
By the time Jim began at Starfleet academy, his shell was as tough as armor. But that didn't stop the irascible Doctor McCoy from wriggling his way into Jim's heart. And soon after Spock and the rest of his crew followed.
But after Tom's betrayal, how did he know he could trust anyone? If someone who lived through Tarsus with him, someone he had trusted with his life, could betray him, why couldn't anyone else?
And yet ... had he trusted Tom with his life?
Yes, they had lived through Tarsus together, but Jim had never depended on him to do anything. It was always Jim doing things for Tom, not the other way around. And it wasn't like Jim minded it that way, but now that he considered it, he could see cracks in Tom's persona.
Yet when he considered Bones and Spock, he saw none of that. He had put his life in the hands of both, and both had done what they could to save him. Bones had saved his life literally many times, and the two of them had risked their own sanity to save what was left of his when the melded with him.
As these thoughts filled his brain, Jim began to feel something warm flickering in his cold heart, and suddenly he wanted to be with them. He got up and went to join his friends – his brothers.
THE END
Uh, hi?
Yeah... it's been almost a year since I uploaded this. I don't know why, but I just didn't come back to it. At any rate, I have now, and I hope you don't all hate me for this. You probably don't even remember what this story is. That's fine, I deserve it. I wanted to thank you anyway for joining me as I tell this story. Thank you to everyone who has followed and Favorited, and everyone who has reviewed. I appreciate each one of you.
Some of you may be familiar with my other story, Amnesia. Be on the lookout, because this new burst of inspiration may be headed straight there now.
At any rate, please let me know what you thought of this ending. I was tempted to cut it even shorter than this, but I felt like everything needed to be tied off completely.
Love,
Capstar
