Author's Note: Greetings! I have some great news! Rubyhair has kindly come alongside for the rest of the story as my beta reader. She's awesome! I can't even begin to describe how thankful I am that she stepped up to help! Remaining errors are all mine. :)
This chapter is most definitely a segue into some crucial scenes, more action, hurt/comfort...a whole slew of things, actually, coming your way soon. In case you were wondering, I am trying to cut this story off at 160K (without author's notes, which is difficult to determine on this site). As always, thank you for reading. Also, if you drop me a review? Thank you so much! They really are encouraging. I'd absolutely LOVE to hear from you and what your thoughts are so far. :-)
Jim's right hand rested like a limp, discarded rag on the table and his expression looked just as dismal. He was thinking too hard. Nyota's heart filling with even more compassion for Jim and his circumstances, she contemplated how to move him along without it sounding like a parental order. Spock was under the care of Dr. McCoy, and although she worried, Spock did not need her at this time. Jim did.
Nyota reached across the table. Jim's cool skin instantly shocked her. She almost withdrew from the touch but knowing that skin-to-skin contact was important to him, she squeezed his hand lightly in comfort. Since finishing his last bite of food, he hadn't stopped playing with his shirtsleeves. Nyota would have found this nervous habit humorous in any other situation but not today. Jim's shivering began a few minutes ago and no wonder. His meal would have met the needs of the entire fleet. Combined with the thin pair of pants he wore and his lowered body temperature, she was surprised Jim hadn't complained about his state of dress already. She retracted her last thought. She shouldn't be surprised, but at least he had requested another cup of hot tea after Carol threw a light blanket over his shoulders. That was a tiny step of progress.
"Jim, did you have enough to eat?" Nyota asked.
Jim's eyes fluttered down. "I'm done. That sandwich was good. Scott...Mr..." Jim frowned. "Uhura...does he have another name? Mr. Scott...isn't right."
It was information she could not give him but as she exchanged a glance with Carol, she saw her own hesitancy reflected in the science officer's eyes. This was just too much to keep from him. It was heartbreaking, and Nyota swiftly deflected before either of them made a dangerous mistake. "Yes, for a Scotsman, Mr. Scott is all wrong," she twirled the liquid in her glass and sighed.
Thankfully, Jim's lips twitched. Relieved he had gotten the joke, for now he didn't pick up on many, she shared a quick smile with Carol.
"I guess you're right. Mr. Scott does fit." Jim shrugged with a smile. "Especially since Scott is also his last name."
"Are you still cold? We could help you find something warmer to wear," Nyota suggested.
Jim nodded.
"Alright," Nyota said softly and gave his hand a squeeze. "Would you like to lead the way?"
"I don't know if you should go in there," he said quietly, making her wonder if he felt some level of embarrassment. "It's...a mess."
"Oh, I don't know if I'd say that." Carol's gentle words came as no surprise.
"I think it has to be. I dumped everything from my drawers out on the floor." Jim flushed. "It's not something that you probably want to deal with."
"Let us be the judge of that, okay?" Nyota knew for a fact it wasn't as bad as he envisioned.
"I threw everything out...like a kid," he mumbled.
"You weren't throwing a tantrum, Jim," Nyota said gently.
"Felt like one."
"Do you really think that's what it was?" She kept a hold on his hand, but halfway through her sentence Jim's hand was gripping hers. It gave her hope see this brotherly affection coming from him like before. "Because I think your actions were based on something quite different."
"I..." Jim sighed. "I liked the feeling it gave me."
"Go on..." Nyota urged.
"The control." His flush deepened. "I don't have much control over anything."
"I know you don't. This has to be frustrating to you."
"I don't remember the old me very well, so I can't be frustrated," Jim replied simply.
"It's a natural emotion even if you can't recall the past. But Jim, you are yourself." She used caution, but it was a point they wanted to get across to him at some time. She suppressed a chuckle. "The way you asserted yourself and took your clothes out of the drawers? That's something the old you would have done."
He blinked. "Really?"
"Yes, and I imagine you want to put all your clothing away now, which is also what the old you would want to do." She took a hesitant breath when he nodded miserably. "So, you are a lot like him, even if you can't see it. But we can."
"Will you help me fix...my mess?" He averted his eyes. "I can't...I can't do it alone."
"Dr. McCoy told us that you don't have to worry about that until he returns," Carol said.
"Oh." Jim's voice thinned. "He is mad, then."
"No," interjected Carol. "Dr. McCoy said that it was fine if you wanted to reorganize your clothing again, but only if you wanted to. He doesn't want you to feel pressured into working with your clothing today, Jim."
"I do," he said quietly. "I need to fix it."
"That's what we'll do then, if you're sure," Nyota stood. "But first, we'll - "
"Find me clothing that actually matches?" Jim deadpanned.
It took Nyota a few extra seconds to realize he was making fun of himself. Carol cocked her head at Jim as if she couldn't believe it, either. Jim cracked a wide smile and shook his head.
"Come on, Uhura. It's bad. You can't deny it. Even blind I know it's offensive. It's why I wore the shirt to your party in the first place." He paused. "I think."
Carol hid a grin behind her hand.
Nyota wasn't so ladylike and snorted. "Jim, I admit that your fashion sense may have taken even more of a hit when you paired Spock's old shirt with red sweatpants - but you have us."
"We won't let you down," Carol affirmed.
"I know you won't. I am grateful that I have you both to help me." As they followed him to his bedroom, Jim's smile held only to be snuffed out as he took a seat at the foot of his bed. "I should've changed before I ate."
Carol dove into a pile, her hand lingering on a long-sleeved shirt. It was black, the color Nyota also expected Jim to choose. "No, you needed to eat, captain - Jim," she finished lamely.
Jim's mouth pressed into a firm thin line. The women held their breath as the seriousness in his eyes hinted that he wanted to comment on Carol's error. But, he didn't and the silence grew uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, Jim." Carol said after a moment, a sheen in her eyes. Of all of the senior crew members, Carol had been the most cautious, literally tip-toeing around the man. Carol would most likely never forgive herself if this upset him or provoked some reaction. Thankfully, Jim's countenance softened and now he appeared thoughtful and nowhere near being as upset as they had first thought.
"It's okay, Carol." He rubbed his chin. "I would have a hard time, too, I think. I guess...if it happens it happens. I don't mind...much. I mind it more when Spock does it purposefully."
"Do you have an idea of what you wanted to wear?" Nyota took a seat on Jim's floor, diving into another subject and into a massive pile of pants.
"Black," he mumbled under the cover of his hand. "Something black."
"Alright. You're in luck." Carol gently set the shirt in his lap. "I can find a sweatshirt for you, as well. You had several."
He nodded.
"Jeans?" Nyota asked. He gave an imperceptible frown and shrugged. She exchanged a look with Carol. Obviously, jeans were not in his database. She pressed the pair of denim pants into his hands. "Try them. They always look nice on you. There's a belt out here if they're too big, but these are a smaller size. I think they'll fit just fine."
He shifted on the bed, appearing more uncomfortable by the second.
"Jim? Is there something else you think you need?" Nyota had discreetly handed him a pair of boxers with that pair of jeans, which he appeared to have discovered and kept hidden from Carol. "Dr. McCoy also mentioned you may want to use the sonic shower."
"I forget how to use the sonic shower," he whispered. The lines of his face tightened before she could reassure him that it was alright he didn't remember. By the time his jaw clenched, she knew it may be difficult for him to hear and then attempt for himself, but she would try to explain the procedure to him. Those were the instructions she received from Dr. McCoy and if she failed, Sulu was on the bridge as backup.
"It's simple. Since you already know how to ask for your favorite tea as well as the food you wanted to eat, I'm sure you'll be able to speak the commands necessary for the shower." Nyota nudged him to stand.
Jim scrunched up his face. "B..b..but," he sputtered.
"They're basically the same thing," Nyota said sweetly.
Jim looked even more confused. Nyota kicked herself. He wouldn't understand that light-hearted comparison. "You've taken steps to assert your opinion and that is a skill you will use every day here on the ship, Jim."
"Oh, I see," he said slowly. "It will help Bones if I do these things on my own, won't it?"
"It will help you most, Jim." She paused. "But he does worry. It will help him, too."
Jim's eyes fluttered down. "And then you'll help me put my clothing away the way it had been before?"
She should've known.
"The exact way it was before?" Although she was dying from laughter on the inside, Nyota tried to keep her voice soft and even but couldn't stop the slight inflection at the end.
Jim nodded sheepishly. "It made sense to organize it all by color, that way I wouldn't mess anything up in case I had a bad day and forgot where I put all the different colored shirts. And, anyways, Bones had put the black shirts and the blue ones at the top. I liked that. A few pairs of jeans were there, too, as well as the hat you made. I remember liking jeans now. Bones knew what was best. He's...he's my friend and just knew."
Emotion pricked her eyes like daggers. Jim's simplistic, childlike response would haunt her the rest of the day and most of the next. She battled her deep concern for Spock's well-being, comparing his health to the gaping hole in each crew member's heart caused by a missing captain. She was almost certain now that she agreed with Spock to continue whatever he needed to do for James T. Kirk. "Then we will get straight to work."
McCoy tamped down a groan as his bruised body began to ascend the mountain before them, although Spock insisted it qualified as a hill. "So, now we know that the ground can give in at a moment's notice. Wonderful."
"Indeed, we are now aware that these risks occur only at the lowest level of terrain, beginning at -"
McCoy's heavy sigh drowned out Spock's statistics. "Spock. Doesn't matter a whit to me what the stats are only that miraculously all of us survived and my medkit was crushed after we fell."
"That was most unfortunate," Spock replied.
"That's your answer for everything, isn't it," McCoy muttered under his breath.
"Fascinating." Not even appearing winded, Spock continued to ascend.
"What is?" McCoy frowned.
"I find it fascinating that you directly correlated my reaction to this incident with my previous, brief state of unconsciousness."
McCoy scowled and dug his boot into the ground to heave himself up to a small break of rocks. He paused, glaring at the Vulcan's disappearing back. If anything could go wrong on this short mission, it had, beginning the very moment the team of seven beamed down to the Class M planet. It was like Jim was right there with them for all the maladies and mishaps that had occurred. Ensign Chekov, of all people, burst out into a strong case of hives. After no indication whatsoever, the ground beneath McCoy, one botanist, and one security officer gave way and had it not been for the overgrown plants that came down with them into a hole of earth, they would all be facing broken bones and worse instead of various contusions. Security remained with the other botanist as McCoy, Spock, and Ensign Dorle made their way to higher ground, Spock leading the way.
The worst part was being on this damn planet while McCoy's best friend, who had suffered from an anxiety attack straight from hell without him, remained on the Enterprise.
"These life forms..." McCoy made record time catching up to Spock, his irritation with the acting captain intensifying and driving his steps as he thought of other dangers. "What do you know?"
"They make their home one thousand kilometers away, doctor. They are peaceful farmers, having abandoned their hunting and gathering way of life over five thousand years ago and annihilated their only enemy at the same time."
"Peaceful, my ass," McCoy muttered under his breath. "That's what was said the last time. Your point being?"
Spock straightened, pausing as he glanced at McCoy. "I believe that the cap-"
"Hold it right there, mister," McCoy frowned. "Don't even tell me you're going to suggest bringing Jim down here."
"This planet sustains a substantial amount of flora. I estimate at least one thousand five hundred sixty-two species," Spock stated.
"Mr. Spock is correct," Ensign Dorle spoke softly from beside McCoy. "We are having difficulty distinguishing between a few hundred of those. The captain could help us categorize on texture and scent alone if our early scans are correct and these species are well-suited for human hands. These are most unique plants, doctor. Based on early scans, we have some expectation that they are suitable for medicinal purposes but we do know they are highly intertwined with the planet's lifeforms and their way of life."
Spock halted them as they reached the pinnacle. McCoy stared coolly at Spock but followed him through a thinly wooded area and into a clearing. McCoy's gaze fell upon a pond, the water so pure and unpolluted he could see straight to the bottom. Although bright blue and green sparsely-leaved trees and plants built a circular wall around them, he didn't have the constant gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach as he had on Re'an V.
Re'an V had been dark and thick and foreboding. This planet was light and airy and promising. Just as McCoy could see right through the crystal blue water, he saw exactly what Spock intended.
"Did you even consider the captain's allergies? That this is a planet we've hardly stepped foot on for two days? That Chekov was already beamed back to the ship on account of an allergic reaction? That Jim is still building up his muscle again from over two weeks of dormancy? His right arm still bothers him, he hasn't regained total use of his right hand, and I suspect right now that he is napping. Again."
"As I recall, you were not convinced Mr. Chekov's reaction was specifically induced by any flora from this planet but a result of what he consumed in the mess hall this morning. Those varieties which are harmless to humans will be sufficiently scanned beforehand, doctor, and tested. We require at least five more days to complete our scan of the phenomena and moons surrounding this planet as well as its inhabitants. Thus, the captain has three days to prepare. Furthermore, our transporter will beam Jim to the exact area in which he could be useful. He will not expend more energy than is necessary." Spock arched a brow. "Lastly, I believe you will continue to debate the merits of the captain accompanying us on any mission. You will also continue to use weak arguments in opposition as your irritation with me progresses and you do not overcome your feelings."
"Weak?" McCoy couldn't believe it. "He's making baby steps. This is a goddamn monstrous leap."
"Ensign Dorle, would you excuse us?" Spock asked.
"Yes, sir." Dorle nodded and moved an appropriate distance away.
"Dr. McCoy," Spock began calmly, "This opportunity would reveal his usefulness to him and thus, impart a level of fulfillment that we are unable to provide for him otherwise."
"No." McCoy crossed his arms. "That cannot happen here, Spock."
"There is nothing to fear, doctor. The environment is two point nine degrees warmer than the average Georgia summer day. Ensign Dorle is a patient man, and Jim will be comfortable while he works with him. Of course, you would also accompany the captain."
"The only thing I fear is pushing things too fast, too hard. You've already discussed this, obviously, and made the decision without me." McCoy's irritation with Spock skyrocketed as he acknowledged the truths: to their knowledge, there was nothing to fear here and the ensign did have the patience of a saint. If Jim had his sight, he'd kick off his boots, roll up his pants, and sit by the damn pond to enjoy a few quiet moments. It crushed McCoy. "You're trying to butter me up first by requesting my presence on the away team so I can see this place - and then proceed to talk about my Terran southern home? No."
"It is merely a suggestion. You are Jim's attending physician. Therefore, the ultimate decision is yours. Giving him an opportunity to assist will benefit him. He must feel at ease with us, and he has yet to reach that level of comfort."
"Of course he hasn't! He hasn't come to grips with his blindness, either." McCoy gave a frustrated sigh. It was his professional opinion that Spock's logic was getting in the way of the heart of the matter - Jim's overall health, including the physical. "This is a long process, Spock."
"I am well aware of the process, Dr. McCoy." Spock's eyes darkened.
McCoy lifted his chin, his mind revisiting the medical concerns of Jim's condition. Now added to that was Spock's own mental and physical health - both of which remained a dangerous unknown if he shielded Jim. "It's a complicated process. I am not sure that this step is necessary yet. Allow him to have more time to work things out first."
"I believe that after speaking with the Admiral, he will desire to do more than remain in his quarters. We both concur that Jim exploring the much of the Enterprise is unsuitable at this present time," Spock finished firmly.
"You think that we won't be able to contain him? Is that it?" McCoy had given that some thought as well, but the Re'an barrier was still strong in Jim. He did not believe Jim would try to break out of his own quarters or disobey remaining within the parameters that they had set for him.
"This will be a safe place."
"Re'an V was supposed to have been a safe place," McCoy said in a quiet voice, fingering his comm. He'd heard enough. He'd seen enough, too. As much as he knew Jim would love to sit by the water and maybe even dip his feet into it, the risks were too great. With Jim in his present condition, they always would be. "Look where that got us."
"Jim knew of the risks, doctor."
"Does he know of the risk you wish to take with your own health?" McCoy challenged, miffed that Spock seemed to have read his mind even without the Vulcan voodoo. But, more than that, McCoy didn't want to see two of his best friends in the direct path of irreparable harm. Not that he'd ever admit that to the commander.
Spock arched a brow. "Dr. McCoy, as I expected, you returned to your original argument. I now ascertain it would have been prudent to have delayed this conversation until tomorrow."
McCoy snorted. If he didn't know any better, that was a well-placed, Vulcan deflection. "To give me time to cool off from earlier?"
"Indeed, and I have agreed to your wishes, doctor. Now, heed mine. You are relieved of your duties for the remaining duration of your shift. You may return to the Enterprise for a time of reflection upon the proposed mission as well as on the purpose of shielding the captain should he experience another episode. It is imperative, however, that we continue our discussion after you have reconsidered Jim's involvement on the planet." Spock paused. "I also insist that you refrain from returning to the captain's quarters until I have beamed aboard the Enterprise and the captain has requested our presence."
If this was how Spock was going to play this game, McCoy had no objections. It was getting more difficult to breathe the same air. "As you wish, Mr. Spock."
McCoy didn't loiter in the mess hall for his early evening meal. After spending hours in the gym, he already determined he was going back for more. Alone and without Jim once again, sitting at their usual table stirred up too many memories and even more emotion than what he'd so far successfully suppressed. He left heartbroken. He left recalling that Jim had felt the exact same way in the manifestations.
McCoy left, feeling as if his heart may never fully repair.
When Jim returned to his jolly old self, McCoy would make meeting Jim for breakfast, lunch, and dinner mandatory every day. For life. Even if Jim didn't return to being the man McCoy had once known, he made the same silent but fervent promise to his best friend.
McCoy finally noticed Christine after peeling off his extra shirt.
"Dr. McCoy," Christine said, arms crossed and standing next to the punching bag right next to his.
"Didn't know you worked out at night." He muttered. He'd asked her to keep track of Jim, not him. "And, we're off duty, Chris. It's Leonard."
"You've been at this for hours." She looked pointedly at the faint pink hue on the wraps around his knuckles.
"Nope. Just took a break." McCoy hardly glanced up at her as he rewrapped his hands.
"A break?" She snorted. "It was ten minutes in the mess hall, after hours of punishing yourself."
"You would be to if you've had to listen to nonsense," he muttered.
"Len," she said, her eyes piercing him as she leaned forward. "Stop it. I know this past month has been difficult, but you're not thinking straight right now. Find someone to talk to -"
"Can't. That one person I would talk to? He pulled out a ridiculous shirt from his dresser yesterday, as well as every last article of clothing in that dresser. He is hanging out with Uhura as we speak, probably sipping hot tea to keep himself warm because his body temperature? It's nothing that I can fix." He pounded the bag, cursing softly. "There's too much that I can't fix for him. Me. His doctor. And I can't fucking fix this for him."
He swung harder.
"Oh, Len." Chris sighed. "Then...get a massage - not this type of anger management."
"Massage, my ass," he scoffed and swung again. McCoy began to tune out the words coming from his best nurse. She cared - too much.
"Yes, that's exactly my point," she hissed. "Do you really want to keep this up tonight? After what I saw today Jim doesn't need - "
Hearing Jim's name, McCoy jerked his head up and stopped the bag, chest heaving. He gulped a breath. "Jim? What's wrong with Jim?"
She rolled her eyes. "Len, pay attention. He's fine but he's going to need his best friend in one piece after spending a long day apart from you. I've been monitoring his vitals all day and sending you reports as you requested. You know he's fine. Go talk to the commander. They're back."
McCoy began another round. He knew they were back. He was merely ignoring Spock's most recent message a little while longer. Christine arched a brow and McCoy was almost afraid to hear what else was on her mind.
"Jim will notice what's up between you and the commander," she continued. "If I know from just observing you today that you and Mr. Spock are at odds, you know Jim will pick up on it."
"Dammit," McCoy whispered and pulled the bag forward. He leaned his head against the bag, arms wrapped around it to support himself. "You're right. Jim won't miss a single thing."
McCoy could see Jim immediately wondering if it was his fault and allowing self-blame to fester. McCoy couldn't let that happen. Chris was right, as always. She positioned herself in front of him, her no-nonsense nurse mode nothing new except for when it came to him.
"Hit the showers. Get dressed and go find - " She stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as she stared at a spot over his shoulder.
McCoy bit back a groan. "Don't tell me. He found me?"
"I'll see you, tomorrow." She smiled sweetly and moved for the exit. McCoy grimaced, resigning himself to the lion's den. He remained where he was. Spock was sure to be walking towards him and McCoy was in no mood to make things any easier on the Vulcan.
"Dr. McCoy," Spock said once he was within McCoy's sight. He opened his mouth to speak again, but his gaze fell on McCoy's newly wrapped knuckles. "You are injured."
"I can't even feel it, Spock," McCoy muttered as red seeped through.
"I insist that I accompany you to sickbay." Spock's mouth tightened.
The fatigue from his physical exertion finally hitting him, McCoy nodded and wondered how the hell he got himself into this mess. It was Jim who resorted to reckless behavior when he needed to burn off steam. Not him. Definitely not McCoy. He possibly leaned against the corridor walls once or twice, but by the time they got to the lift, he was well aware of Spock's hand on his arm guiding him inside. McCoy groaned and leaned his head against the wall. "I'm sorry, Spock."
"An apology is unnecessary."
McCoy sighed and shook his head. "No, Spock. It is necessary. I've been upset and avoiding you and that was wrong. I know we need to talk about taking Jim along on the damned landing party. The thing is, Archer will inspire Jim when they talk because the admiral has always had that effect on him. I doubt it will be any different even now. Despite the damage done to Jim's mind, he will become antsy."
"Indeed."
"I will only allow him to be there for three hours a day," McCoy said, almost certain that it would be two hours too many for Jim. However, deep down, he also knew he had to appease Spock and give Jim this opportunity.
After all, both McCoy and Spock were fighting with all they had with the same goal in mind - bringing their captain back.
"You will permit Jim's presence on the away team for more than one day?" Spock queried.
"He can have two days, if he adjusts well."
"Three hours may not be sufficient," Spock said.
"It's three hours," McCoy said sharply as the doors opened. "Or nothing."
Spock closed the doors before McCoy took a single step.
McCoy's eyes widened. Spock only did this kind of thing to Jim, when Jim was being a stubborn ass about one thing or another and needed the advice of his first, whether or not he even requested it. "You've gotta be kidding me."
"I have said nothing, doctor." Spock arched a brow.
"No, but you just closed the damn doors," McCoy huffed. "You only do that to Jim, when he's being an idiot and needs you to set him on the straight and narrow."
Spock stiffened.
It had been over a month - and look at them. They needed Jim. "I miss him. He's here with us, but not completely. And...we're a mess," McCoy said quietly. "A goddamned mess."
Those statements as well as their unresolved issues weighed heavily between them for a moment. McCoy stared at the closed lift door, wondering if he really would be able to hide the emotions boiling at the surface from Jim.
"We are equally concerned for our captain's welfare," Spock finally said.
"You're absolutely right. I don't want him hurt more." McCoy turned his head and looked at Spock straight in the eyes. "I don't want you hurt, either, Spock. If you are, who will take care of his ship?"
"I must do what is necessary," Spock said, his tone firm.
"So must I," McCoy replied.
"The crew needs their captain."
"Spock, I know that. But, there's more at stake than that - more than we could possibly know, as you yourself have acknowledged. I need you to be okay. Jim needs you to be okay. Uhura needs you to be okay." McCoy continued, hoping Spock would listen with his heart rather than his logic. "I need you to be okay."
"You have necessitated my well-being twice now, Dr. McCoy." Spock said, his voice softening.
McCoy frowned. "It's true. How can I care for Jim when...or if..."
Spock blinked at him. McCoy could not continue that statement even if his life depended upon it.
"I see," Spock said gently. "I agreed to your wishes for now, as long as you are available to sedate the captain. You must be made aware that a mere sedative will be unable to shield him as I can."
"But it will help." McCoy didn't dare pose that statement as a question.
"Yes." Spock's shoulders relaxed. "I believe that we have settled on a compromise for the time being."
McCoy took a deep breath. "As long as Jim maintains his present state, yes, and until we both have determined that it is safe to perform another superficial meld."
"If his state changes, Dr. McCoy?" Spock asked.
"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," McCoy said.
"Very well." Spock nodded. The doors opened and he inclined his head towards sickbay. "Dr. McCoy, after you."
"You're sure they'll be here soon?" Jim scooted over on his couch to allow room for Uhura. The anxiety stirred miserably in his stomach, growing to an almost unbearable level as they waited. Carol left several hours ago, once Christine came by for the third time to check his vitals per Bones' request. Jim didn't quite understand why checking his vitals every other hour was necessary but he assumed Bones' overprotective nature had something to do with it. "Bones changed his mind, didn't he? He doesn't want to talk to me. Maybe I waited too long to ask them to come here. I didn't mean to wait so long, but I was tired - "
"Nurse Chapel practically forced you to take a nap," Uhura reminded him. "Dr. McCoy is not upset."
"But, maybe -"
"Shhh," Uhura whispered, her hand pressed over his mouth. "Calm down. They had something to work out between them. They're on their way, Jim. In fact..."
The door chimed and Jim jumped to his feet, hedging towards a safer room than this one - his bedroom. "I'm gonna...I mean... 'night, Uhura."
"You are not doing this to them, Kirk, not after the day they had," she grumbled. "They need to see you."
Before he realized what she was doing or could ponder what she meant, she pulled him along and they were at his door. It slid open at Uhura's command.
"Hey, Jim." Bones' voice sounded gruff. If Jim didn't know any better, contained a hint of emotion, the kind that made the doctor's eyes tear up when he least expected it to and the kind that made Jim's tear up in turn.
"Bones," Jim whispered. In the ensuing silence, the apology that was in his heart and on the tip of his tongue the entire day was forgotten. All he wanted was an affirmation that everything was well between them - and affirmation was what he received.
"C'mere, kid." Bones stepped into his quarters and crushed him with an embrace.
After Uhura slipped out quietly, Jim's two best friends explained more of the 'truth.' His mind raced with questions. He still didn't understand what had happened to him, but with that confusion came a natural contentment to let his friends explain only what was necessary and as they saw fit. At this time, they spoke not of what had caused his condition but of two events in the near future for which he must prepare.
Jim's mouth dropped open. They couldn't possibly be serious.
"Jim?" Bones called softly. "Ya alright, Buddy? I know it's a lot to take in."
"I'm going to talk to Admiral Archer tomorrow...and take part in a mission?" Numb, Jim repeated their words to him.
Bones shifted on the couch beside him. "The mission won't be for a few more days. I'd like you to get in as much physical therapy as possible before then..."
But Jim had already moved on. Dazed, he couldn't believe he would actually be a member of the landing party. It was...he really wasn't sure what he thought of that yet. And Archer wanted him to speak with him? He thought he'd always liked Archer, and although his tongue was twisted up just thinking of speaking to the admiral, he wasn't sure it would be so bad especially if Spock and Bones were with him.
"...I wanted us to be there with you, but Archer wants to speak with you alone, Jim," Bones finished softly.
Jim's eyes widened, only catching the last few words. "Alone? Why?"
"I suspect he wants to see for himself how you're doing without us influencin' ya." Bones squeezed his shoulder. "But you'll be fine."
Jim swallowed. "He could change his mind. He could order me off this ship."
"It is reasonable to believe that nothing you could say would alter the course the admiral has set, Jim," said Spock.
Despite Spock's words, the lump in Jim's throat swelled. He lost the Re'an. He lost his sight. He lost things he still couldn't remember even losing in the first place. What if he lost Spock? Bones? "I don't want to leave you," he whispered. He'd have nothing left.
"You have nothing to fear, Jim," Spock stated. "This is a measure the admiral believes will secure your place on board the Enterprise."
"You're in charge of me, Bones, right? You won't let them take me. Please?" Jim pleaded. "Bones?"
The silence that followed grew. Believing that he'd somehow hurt his friend, Jim almost wished he could take the words back. Which words, he wasn't certain. He knew without a doubt that the first thing he said was true. Even before he'd spoken the words, a memory sprung from a clouded place, guided along by a hand he knew well by now.
The images burned with brilliance and ushered in only one of many things he'd forgotten of his captaincy. Jim fought to keep the memory alive, holding on to it with a whispery thin resolve but resolve, nonetheless. He saw himself decidedly giving Bones that responsibility before they stepped foot on the Enterprise for a long mission and then again on Re'an V, with Bones looking him straight in the eye, with resolve, with affection. He heard Bones' ready reply as he clapped him on the shoulder, feeling that ghostly imprint there now. He sensed Spock trying to give more of the memory to him but then the Vulcan halted, obstructed by that something Jim still didn't quite understand and Spock could not break.
Jim twisted his hands together beneath the blanket on his lap, waiting. Spock had given him a gift. It was a beautiful, precious gift linking him to them in a way he never experienced before. And although he wanted reassurance that his very person was in someone else's hands - Bones' hands - even more, he wanted to know that his words hadn't upset the doctor. Jim couldn't stand the thought of Bones being upset and he being the reason. His friend. His best friend. He didn't dare breathe.
When the doctor's soft drawl filled the room, beckoning with all the gentleness he needed to hear, Jim sagged in his seat on the couch, unaware that a tear had leaked from the corner of the doctor's eye and he had merely needed a moment to compose himself.
"Yes. I am in charge of you, Jim. I won't let them take you," Bones said quietly. "But the truth is, Jim, there's not a single one of us here on the Enterprise who would ever let you go."