Author's Note: Updated 2/15/15 with new scenes. Chapters 25 and 26 have been adjusted, as well. The original end scene for this chapter is now in Chapter 28. I will explain the reasons for all of this crazy editing when I post Chapter 29.
I got this to you all a little sooner than I expected! I may not be able to update more than once (and sometimes, twice) a week but I usually can't do less than a 4k chapter these days. So, maybe that makes up for delays. :-) I am thrilled you liked the last chapter. Thanks SO much for reading and following along, and for those reviews which are priceless for authors. I usually try to reply to those individually, and if I get confused and miss you, I apologize. So, to the guests reviewers - thank you so much, as well. That you've taken the time to read this fic is humbling because as much time and thought and creativity as I put into it, I am just a lowly author. :-) DLB48- I am always thankful and appreciative for the beta. You keep me on my toes!
One note about this chapter as far as timeline. The beginning of this chapter takes place one day after the last scene in Chapter 26. We will skip ahead four more days for the third scene. That info is included in the scenes, but I wanted to clarify. Time will be passing by in the next chapters, sometimes more quickly in one than in others. Happy reading!
McCoy's body coiled tightly as he observed the admiral's face on the screen. He attempted to read the man but found it impossible to find a crack in his expression. This was it, the conversation with Admiral Archer about Jim, a few days sooner than he'd like. They had spoken for some time already, but the admiral had not hinted one way or another if he would authorize Jim to remain on board. McCoy fought for the right to keep Jim aboard, of course, being that he was his physician, but a Starfleet officer in Jim's condition would ordinarily be sent to a Star Base facility for rehabilitation.
"Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy: I will be blunt to both of you and in my recommendations to the board. It is imperative that Jim Kirk return to the position as captain of the Enterprise, preferably prior to the conclusion of your five year mission. You and the Enterprise crew have performed miracles in the past. Indeed, I suspect that even now you are researching, investigating and experimenting more than we have discussed here. Continue your efforts to return Kirk to his former status. I'm giving you full authority to do whatever you deem necessary and appropriate. Jim Kirk is one of our most ingenious and resourceful officers and after hearing your concerns and reviewing your reports, I am confident he will find a way to accomplish some work on his ship despite his limitations. Contact me again once he has rehabilitated sufficiently and you certify him fit for duty as captain. Prior to that time, I also request that you send regular report to my office according to the schedule I'm sending now. One more thing..."
"Yes, Admiral," Spock replied.
"I would like to speak with Captain Kirk alone once he is settled in his quarters."
"Sir, with all due respect, I don't think -" McCoy protested.
"Hear me out, Dr. McCoy. I realize he is not Captain Kirk at this point in time and furthermore, that I am, essentially, a stranger to him. I will speak to him as if I would speak to a civilian under your care. I only want to see for myself what you have recorded in your logs. As far as the board, I feel I will be able to sway them, especially if I have spoken with Kirk personally."
"Admiral, that is an acceptable compromise." McCoy didn't dare breathe.
"I thought it would be." The admiral's tone softened. "Just get him well."
The screen went dark.
McCoy stared numbly at Spock. "I didn't think it would go that well. I honestly didn't think it would."
"I confess that I, too, did not calculate the odds to be in our favor. Your arguments were most convincing, doctor."
McCoy groaned and placed his head in his hands. He was relieved but exhausted. Last night he had covered a partial shift for M'Benga and, thus, lost his chance to catch up on sleep.
"Sickbay to Dr. McCoy."
McCoy tensed, glancing warily at Spock. "Go ahead, Chris."
"He's not eating, Leonard," Christine whispered through the comm.
"Damn," McCoy muttered, mindful to be quiet. She must be in the same room as Jim. "He was difficult about it before I left last night, too. Alright. I'll be right there. McCoy out."
Spock's gaze pierced the doctor. "You received insufficient rest."
As unnerving as it was to see the hobgoblin concerned about his well-being, McCoy merely shrugged and heaved himself out of his chair. "I'll sleep sometime but for now, Jim needs to eat. His aversion to food heightened the past twenty-four hours."
"My decision to prohibit Soona's visit has upset him. Perhaps I can rectify the situation."
McCoy's eyebrows shot up. "If you're suggesting we let him see her, I will not agree to it."
"I am explaining why the captain cannot partake of his meals. Although he senses our compassion and friendship, he cannot help but remain troubled by my decision. He also continues to mourn the loss of the Re'an as it reminds him of similar emotions of his past. It is a combination that vexes him."
"You're right," McCoy recalled the quiet captain, who had hardly said another word after Spock left for the bridge two days ago. "We have to be careful, Spock. He could be depressed, and that only makes the situation worse. If he's depressed, he won't eat. If we want to continue to spoonfeed the truth to him, we need to be aware of this - and be sufficiently prepared. One thing is for certain...he's not ready to hear that Dr. Jahnas is alive because she can't be allowed to visit him, either."
"No," Spock said. "That visit would now be most illogical for three reasons. Given the situation with the snakes, she has been in direct contact with them like Soona. Secondly, now that we have had additional time to observe Jim's modified personality, I do not calculate their interaction to be suitable or beneficial for the captain at this time."
McCoy had also considered that second reason. Aleyah was...unpredictable and lively. Sometimes volatile, and Jim was always the one to deal with her then. At this point, Jim was a meek, quiet man who did not comprehend all the intricacies of Standard as he once had nor the basics of social interaction, especially any that involved women, let alone Orion women.
"Aleyah would eat him alive."
"Doctor, I assume you are not suggesting that the captain become sustenance for Dr. Jahnas. However, if I am interpreting the colloquialism correctly, that is, indeed, a danger."
McCoy snorted. "And the third reason?"
"The captain's despair following my initial decision nearly overwhelmed my controls, doctor. I cannot experience that level of emotion again and still be capable of assisting him in his recovery."
Though the honesty shocked him, McCoy schooled his features. He knew Spock cared deeply for Jim but the recent, stronger feelings of friendship were unlike anything he ever expected from the Vulcan. He was now certain he hadn't imagined the tears leaking from the commander's eyes as he stood outside of Jim's room.
"May I accompany you, doctor?"
"To sickbay?"
Spock nodded. "He is distressed despite my efforts to calm him from this distance. My presence will soothe him."
"It will, will it?" McCoy sighed in mock exasperation. "If you must..."
But he couldn't help the barest of smiles that appeared on his face as he left the ready room. Not only did Jim have him, he had a Vulcan who just admitted he had a heart. McCoy never thought he'd live to see the day. Hobgoblins.
Spock was correct, of course. As Spock settled into a chair next to Jim, he finally took a bite to eat.
But then a tentative voice broke the silence. "Bones."
"Yeah?" McCoy said, not looking up from the computer. Jim's body temperature hadn't budged since yesterday when Spock directed Jim to 'test' their bond. He'd prefer more progress, but he didn't see how he could push that today. Not until he knew Jim was on his way to healthier eating habits - and a little stronger.
"I...I'm..." Jim's voice broke.
McCoy turned around then, Jim's woeful eyes unexpected. "Jim, is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered, knuckles whitening as he clenched the spoon in his left hand. McCoy wanted to ask him to use his weaker hand, but something in Jim's voice made him pause. "For...not eating. I...know that upsets you. It worries you. It always has. I mean, I think it has. I just...couldn't. I'm...upset but I can eat now that Spock's here...but..."
McCoy gently stopped Jim, enveloping the cool hand which held a spoon. "Don't say another word about it. I'm not upset."
They could delay this for a little while longer. He couldn't bear to see Jim waste away anymore but he didn't want Jim to begin hacking it back up if he wasn't ready.
"Are you sure you're ready to eat now?"
"I don't know...I..." Some emotion flickered across his face.
"Jim is concerned that soon he will experience a panic attack," Spock said quietly.
Jim bit his lip and gave one short nod.
"During his first semester at the Academy he suffered a panic attack following a similar period of stress and inability to consume food."
McCoy filled with dread. "You remember that?" He asked with hesitation.
"Some." Jim set his jaw and pulled his hand away from McCoy's.
"Do you remember what triggered it?" McCoy prayed he didn't. He had a hunch that Jim would not deal well remembering Tarsus while he was grieving the utter desolation of a species with whom he identified himself.
"He does not," Spock answered as Jim withdrew.
McCoy breathed silent thanks for the Vulcan's bond with Jim. They may be able to make sense of this after all because McCoy reasoned there was more to the lack of eating than they first thought.
Jim's shoulders folded forward. "Should I?" He whispered, eyes pooling with liquid.
"It's perfectly fine that you don't right now." McCoy squeezed his shoulder, but Jim held his shoulders rigidly.
"I only remember that you were upset after it happened. Threw a glass and a plate against the wall when you thought I was sleeping. Then you tried to punch a hole in the wall."
McCoy winced as understanding finally dawned, and it was most painful to ask Jim the question burning on his tongue. "You think I will be upset with you if you can't eat."
Jim averted his face. "I don't think I could stand it if you were mad at me like that, Bones...again."
McCoy's heart broke as his friend referenced their 'disagreement.' "I won't be upset and I wasn't mad at you then at the Academy. I was mad at what caused you to be so ill."
His friend from before would understand that...Jim did understand that. But this Jim? McCoy thought he was going to be sick. It was all too clear to McCoy that the meld had done damage that could take weeks...months to reverse, even when their captain came back to them. Especially if memories came back to Jim like a slow but powerful storm about to hit. Or like a tornado ripping through his mind. McCoy wasn't sure which way was more formidable.
"Oh," Jim murmured, the food before him obviously on his mind.
"It can wait, Jim. We can go back to broth or soup."
Jim shook his head and lifted his spoon. "I'll try for you, Bones."
Seeing that he was determined to do so, McCoy stepped back and watched. Jim dipped into his applesauce. McCoy's chest ached as Jim took a second bite, his face twisting with distaste. This wasn't supposed to happen to them. To Jim. He didn't want be in space for the rest of this five-year mission without Jim as his captain. He didn't want to, but he would. He wouldn't leave him. Ever. Especially not now, when his friend had changed so much. Although he latched on to the same hope as Spock that their Jim would return, he couldn't abandon this one. He liked the kid. He loved him now just as he had before. He even smiled at the differences, some of them so polar opposite of Jim's old self that he got a kick out of this new persona.
"Maybe some cinnamon would help," Christine said softly behind him. McCoy had forgotten she was there, maybe she had left and come back again, but it seemed as if she held the answer in her hand - literally. Honest to goodness spice that no replicator itself could ever match.
"Where did you get that?" McCoy arched a brow.
"I like to cook, you know that, Leonard."
She sprinkled on the cinnamon for the captain, eliciting a smile from Jim when she told him that she didn't like plain applesauce, either. After a cautious bite, he dove into the applesauce like there was no tomorrow.
McCoy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Chris."
"Sure." She smiled, then adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "It wasn't exactly just cinnamon, but my own special blend."
McCoy frowned. His nurses all knew better than that.
"It's a secret, but never fear, doctor. I memorized his allergies and I know how much you hate him eating anything with extra sugar," she whispered, throwing him bemused look.
When Jim was almost done with his food, McCoy decided it was the perfect time to mention the next step. Time to give Jim a goal, one that McCoy was sure to continue to brighten both Jim's outlook as well as his own and ease the misery that was hinted of in Spock's expression. He didn't know how much of Tarsus the Vulcan had seen during the melds with Jim, but given the emotion in those dark eyes, it was more than McCoy had first thought.
"We're moving ya to your quarters soon."
Jim's hand paused mid-air. "I have quarters? Even though I'm not captain? Even though I'm not him anymore?"
McCoy's breath left him. Was that how Jim saw himself? Granted, McCoy had even begun thinking of Jim as two separate personas, even though the man before him was still his best friend.
"Yes. You will be given your previous quarters, Jim," Spock's calm voice slowly pulled McCoy back to reality. "It is only logical."
"You may not remember it, Jim, but it will create some comfort for you," McCoy managed.
"When will you move me?"
"Once you've had a few more days of therapy." McCoy paused, seeing Jim's expression fall. "And you've managed to walk the length of sickbay." It wouldn't be long. Jim's leg had healed rapidly, almost overnight with the new drug.
Jim remained silent. McCoy racked his brain for something to throw out as an incentive.
"I'll make sure Garig comes by when I'm gone today and gets another bath ready for you when therapy is over."
"I take a bath every day, Bones. A long one."
McCoy rested a hand on Jim's shoulder. "You like them."
"I'm warm when I take them," Jim turned his head, expression filled with embarrassment.
McCoy fought a frustrated sigh as Jim's confession only emphasized the steady problem regarding his body temperature. Spock deduced that although strengthening their bond broke the barrier and benefitted Jim in the long run, it was the very thing causing this instability and flux of temperature. "Buddy, we're working on that. Meanwhile, trust me when I say two baths a day is fine."
"It's because I was captain, isn't it?"
"What are you talking about?" McCoy asked softly.
"The water credits...I have a lot."
It was time for more truth. "It is part of it, yes."
Jim turned his head back towards McCoy. He chewed on his lip, silent.
"You can ask me anything, Jim.
"Why do I have a lot as captain? Wouldn't other crew members need them more than I do?"
Spock arched an eyebrow, and McCoy couldn't help but grin a little at Jim's first official question regarding his captaincy. "That's exactly why you have a lot as captain."
Jim's face filled with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You gave a portion of yours away at your own discretion," Spock answered.
"I guess...that's good, right?"
"It is very generous, and does not go unnoticed by the crew," McCoy said. "Although you did give away part of your credits, you have more than enough to allow this for little while because you have only used the sonic shower since we left Earth. If it makes you feel better, you have a sound medical reason to enjoy these baths, Jim."
"So I can have another bath today?" Jim asked, his eyes searching for McCoy in his darkness.
It hurt that Jim couldn't see it, but he offered his friend a small smile in return. What they had planned to get Jim ready for his quarters was going to help. McCoy was sure of it. "Absolutely. "
"Chris," McCoy clutched Nurse Chapel's arm and escorted them both out of Jim's room once he confirmed that Spock could remain for a brief time. "That? In there? Do you realize what you did for him?"
"He's my captain, Len," she said, her gaze straight ahead. "It is my duty."
"Don't give me that," McCoy scowled. "Something's up with you, and I've noticed it since the very day that Jim came in with the allergic reaction. You've never been this gentle with him. Chris, you've been going above and beyond what I ever expected."
"I don't know what you mean."
McCoy sighed heavily. "You know better than to play games with me. Just tell me the truth. What the hell has made you go soft on Jim Kirk?"
Christine stopped, pulling McCoy closer as they stood right at the edge of the main area of sickbay. "After Nero? And before I received my next assignment? I put in some time to work with children - young teens - who suffered at the hands of abusive parents, including being starved near death. And then I worked with adults who..." Christine clamped her mouth shut, her eyes now hooded.
"Go on," McCoy urged her gently.
"I looked deeper into myself, contemplating what I was actually even doing as a nurse. It had me questioning many things, Leonard. Coming back to the Enterprise, I could never put my finger on it, then, but the captain showed the signs of things I learned those few months. I don't know why I hadn't figured it out before, and I wish I had. Even Carol asked me shortly before we left for this mission if I had ever considered that Jim had suffered some sort of trauma as a child. Maybe I had put blinders on, Len. My experience with Jim had been rocky from the start but then you know how Dr. Marcus' pled his case and then Jim contacted me with a genuine smile and request to come aboard. Dr. Marcus has an even softer spot for him than I do now, you know. She always has." Christine smiled.
"Listen to me, Chris," McCoy frowned, although he was honestly relieved that at least one other person he worked closely with in sickbay knew this part of Jim's past. It would make things a hell of a lot easier if they were ever in a pinch. If Jim needed someone besides McCoy and McCoy was unavailable. "What you just explained to me and whatever I say next-"
"I know," Christine said softly. "Dr. Marcus does not know any details. I know my duty to my captain."
"Could you possibly adjust more dishes for Jim? Tweak them to his liking? And then give the recipes to the chef? I will give you an extended list of his allergies, but I will have to approve all ingredients. I have seen a slight change in his preferences, of course. His palate has altered, thanks to the damn meld. For the most part though, it is the one part of this whole mess that hasn't actually worsened, considering."
"I would be happy to. Maybe once he's settled in his quarters I can bring a variety over. Nyota and Carol can help me, as long as I can get free rein in the kitchen."
"That will not be a problem," McCoy said firmly. "I have some time before Spock needs me on the away team today. I'll stay here with Jim. I'd like you get a headstart on this. Take my office, alright?"
"Yes, doctor."
As Christine walked away, McCoy imagined their captain enjoying most of his food. He could name on one hand the things Jim showed excitement about eating. This was the first good thing he saw coming out of this mess. He hoped it wouldn't be the last.
Jim leaned on his cane, his breath hot on his hand as he reached up and wiped his mouth. He closed his eyes, certain he was in a room that was spinning, like the Re'an room, the room with the...the...Jim's neck and face heated even more as he reconsidered where his thoughts were taking him. He seemed to lose all control during these sessions. Usually he ended up biting his tongue to keep himself from saying the wrong thing to his therapist, Marin.
Jim, you must focus on your therapy. Dr. McCoy will be there shortly.
Spock was right. This was what they wanted him to do, and he wanted to try to do his best for them, these two friends he loved despite the haze of memories. Jim exhaled a strangled breath, wiping at his forehead with the edge of one of his shirt sleeves, for he was wearing not one shirt, not two, but three to stay warm through this physical exertion. He repeated Spock's words to himself, but found himself too uncomfortable and winded to concentrate on anything at all. The trickle of sweat down his back had accumulated faster than he'd like. He wasn't sure exactly how far he'd made it, but it couldn't have been a great distance. Outside his room, probably, or right in the doorway and no further. Jim groaned, feeling his sweat on every inch of his body even more now that he stopped. His shirt clung to his skin like the therapeutic glove did to his hand, and he doubted anyone would be able to peel it off before he made it to that bath Bones promised him. He wasn't exactly certain he wanted to wait to undress before he plunged into the tub to rid himself of this slick sweat. Jim wiped a hand across his forehead, unsure if he was allowed to take a moment to catch his breath. He didn't want to upset anyone by doing the wrong thing, and he certainly wasn't going to begin making requests. It just wasn't his way, although Bones encouraged him to ask for things.
For the most part, Jim had yet to do so. But maybe...maybe voicing his frustration in this setting wouldn't be against the Re'an way.
"I hate this," he muttered, for the first time vocalizing what had been on his mind since he remembered working with the therapist. That day had been well over a week ago when he had been bed-ridden. The time spent in therapy for his hand was worse than this - this standing and taking steps. He wasn't in nearly the same amount of pain he'd been in then. It was the fatigue which drove his slow progress and filled him with frustration. It was the tiredness that he felt more acutely now that he was out of his bed.
It was learning that he had been captain.
Bones' captain. Spock's captain. Their leader, when it was Jim who clearly needed the leading. He felt shaken to his core, rudely awakened from his closed world and torn from the Re'an one. Jim swallowed back the grief welling up inside of him. He couldn't think of them now, not when Bones wanted him to do well today.
"I know you do, Jim," the therapist murmured softly. "Your leg is stiff, but given the progress you've made in just one day, tomorrow will be even better."
How could tomorrow be better? He'd still be their former captain - and as confused as ever.
No, Jim. Tomorrow, you will see your progress. Focus on your therapy. You do not need to be concerned about 'captain.'
"I have water for you. Drink slowly."
"Where are we?" Jim inhaled a short breath, almost gasping as he exhaled and fought for another.
They were on a starship. Where he'd been captain, a man who was a complete stranger to him.
But we know you, Jim.
"After you catch your breath, take a moment to figure it out for yourself." She pressed a water bottle into his hand. He gulped most of it down, ignoring her caution to drink slowly. He wanted Bones to come back. Bones was...he was...Just where was Bones? What was he doing for the rest of the day? He admitted he may have not been paying attention earlier. He'd done the same thing yesterday. And the day before that. Things were a blur.
What was clear to him was Spock's friendship and affection as Jim learned about the Re'an. He recalled Bones holding him for a very long, long time and responding to Jim's needs with the compassion Jim knew he had. Spock projected these safe thoughts to Jim in an endless cycle.
"Is something wrong, Jim?"
Jim reluctantly pulled the bottle from his lips. "I can't remember where Bones said he was going."
"Dr. McCoy will return soon, but first, can you tell me where you are?"
The therapist was as adept as deflecting as he was, or thought he had been. Or...maybe Bones hadn't said anything in regards to what he was doing. Why was he even curious? Jim blinked again, asking incredulously, "The hall outside my room?"
"You're right. You made it clear to the end."
"Do I have to make it all the way back?" Jim whispered.
Did he have to become their captain again? Couldn't he just be...himself?
From Spock, there was silence.
The therapist made a humming noise. Jim closed his eyes, listening to it some more. "If I want to keep my head, I must make sure you do exactly that."
Keep her head?
She does not wish to face the wrath of Dr. McCoy for failing her responsibility as your therapist, Jim.
"Fuck," Jim whispered, testing the word that he had heard in his mind minutes ago. It was a strong word. Vulgar, maybe, but venting felt good. "I can't do this."
He couldn't be captain. He didn't want to be. He didn't want to work. He felt like he'd been working even before the damn therapy began - working on not drowning in a sea of the unknown. And now, he could hardly lift his head up above these things that he couldn't even begin to compute.
Like...captain.
"Fuck."
"You can do this, Jim." She soothed in his ear. "I'll be right here, marking your progress."
Jim, listen to your therapist, Spock soothed in his mind. I am always by your side.
The Vulcan's voice in his head droned on, and Jim shuffled. He imagined Bones' hand on his arm and his encouraging drawl nudging him along instead of Marin. Jim leaned on the presence in his mind to make it back to his bed, despite imagining every Re'an that he had met, now dead. He leaned on the promise of Bones returning and suppressed his tears of grief and loss.
McCoy walked into sickbay with the intention of first speaking to Christine and the therapist before returning to Jim's room. He instantly located one of the people he wanted to see. "Marin, how did the therapy go today?"
"He showed some spirit today, Dr. McCoy."
"It's about damn time he did." McCoy waited for the explanation. As surprised as he was to hear this, he was also relieved. How could anyone work with Marin and not vocalize how hard she was to please? Even as passive as Jim was, after a week and a half working closely with her or with the equally as tough cousin Bruk, something was going to have to give. Jim couldn't keep his emotions pent up like this forever.
Whatever Jim did, it was a beginning and very much only the tip of the iceberg.
"He did not like it that I made him walk back to his room," Marin smiled. "I confess that the captain's vulgar language was refreshing to hear. When we reached his room, he told me to be careful and, I quote, 'Don't be surprised if the damn door closes on your ass on the way out.'"
McCoy choked back laughter. "He did, did he?"
"I don't think he actually meant for me to hear that and I'm not terrible certain he even knew the words came from his mouth. In fact, I'm positive he didn't," Marin took a breath. "Before that, as I helped him sit down, I could see that his right arm was giving him some trouble. He favored his left and his right shoulder drooped. His face had a painful, bruised look. I think that it was a subconscious reaction to keep himself under control."
McCoy sighed. Spock did say he knew Jim was troubled today but not enough to warrant postponing the mission. It was good for Jim to have a little bit of time away from them, even if McCoy thought of his best friend every damn minute that he was away.
"He did very well today. I have no doubt he'll walk the length of sickbay by the end of the week so you can move him where he could possibly be more comfortable."
"Marin, I'm sorry about - "
"There's no need to apologize for him." Her smile grew. "It was the pay-off for me - finally. I feel better about my job when things like this happen. Despite his frustration and emotional trouble, it was a good day."
McCoy entered Jim's room, satisfied with what he saw. Garig sat a few feet away from Jim, stoic as he watched the captain sleep in the tub.
"I got it from here." McCoy said softly and took a seat on the edge of the tub, which held a ridiculous amount of bubbles.
Garig must have seen his slightly confused expression. "He didn't ask for them, but...last time he found the few bubbles there were and slowly popped them. Since he can't see them, I believe he also enjoyed the difference in texture. Today, the process put him to sleep about five minutes ago."
If all this wasn't a little bit of the old Jim showing through, McCoy would eat his tricorder. As Garig slipped out quietly, McCoy decided his friend needed a little tender care. Smiling to himself at Jim's light snoring, he took a bottle of mint lotion one of the nurse's concocted and rubbed it on Jim's scalp. There were a few spot of dryness, and he wanted Georgia to continue to comfort his best friend. Jim was always subdued but it was time for bed, albeit a little earlier than usual. A long, uninterrupted rest was necessary. He had worked hard today. If anyone deserved this care, it was Jim. McCoy wouldn't be alive today had it not been for Jim's sacrifice in the Re'an's sacred room. Neither would Spock, Nyota, or Sulu.
As when Jim went into the warp core, the sacrifice had been too much.
Jim sighed into the hot, minty water. It was during the times like these that he truly felt warm, other than when his friend had held him two days ago. Jim's stomach had twisted when he'd thought of asking his nurse, Garig, for the added flair to his bath water, but the nurse added the bubbles before he even asked, not that Jim would have followed through, anyways. Now, Garig sat by the tub, giving him the only privacy he was allotted to by Dr. McCoy: not much. Weary from the physical therapy, Jim didn't mind. His water provided bubble coverage, not that he had illusions of any privacy in the first place. Things had begun to click in place, including how long he may have been in sickbay: over three weeks. A nurse slipped yesterday, earning an earful from Dr. McCoy that Jim heard loud and clear from his room. When he thought about it, Jim really hadn't been surprised. The catheters had clued him in, especially with the warnings they gave after they removed them. Now that his leg had healed and allowed him more movement, everything was even harder than it had been before. Especially walking, but he'd done what the therapist had asked. When Garig came with clear instructions that a bath was scheduled before the doctor returned, no words had ever sounded sweeter.
"Buddy, your skin's as red and wrinkly as a newborn."
Jim's head shot up at Bones' voice, suds splashing everywhere as his arms jerked in his surprise. "You're back. I should get out."
"Hey, now. Take it easy." Bones' hand gently guided Jim's head back against the pillow he was using in the tub. "I was only joking. You can take as long as you like. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. You worked hard today."
Jim rubbed at his eyes but the stinging only worsened.
"Here," Bones said softly. "I'm going to rinse your eyes with some clean water."
When Bones' hand gently lifted Jim's chin and water spilled over his eyes to flush out the suds, Jim felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.
Tears sprung and slid down, mingling with the water coursing down his cheeks. Jim froze, wondering why it bothered him that Bones was doing this. "Bones," his voice cracked. "I don't...I mean...this...I..."
"Shit," Bones whispered. "Hold on, Jim." A soft cloth patted his eyes dry and soon, the strong arms of the southern doctor lifted him out of the tub.
Jim shivered until he was placed on his bed, dressed quickly by his friend, and covers pulled over him, the soft blankets tucked around him on all sides. He latched on to Spock's calm murmurings and tried desperately not to think too much why Bones was holding him and apologizing to him once again. He was lulled to sleep before he came to any revelations.