Title: I Can't Hate Myself More Than I Do (But I'll Try)

Set Directly after Just Lose it

McCoy realises that something is off when Kirk wakes up in the morning. He's definitely hung-over and that comes with the usual side-effects, but this time it's more than just a hangover. Kirk is steadily avoiding his eyes, and except for the times he dives to the bathroom sounding like he's retching up his stomach lining he's silent.

Something's wrong and McCoy knows it. Morning classes come and go and Kirk still hasn't spoken except for the bare minimum. A half-hearted answer that was surprisingly wrong in response to a question by a professor... a few words during the discussion in their Xenopolitics Fundamentals...brief encounters and then he retreats back into himself.

It's not right and it's not Kirk.

McCoy confronts him outside their last class before lunch. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

If McCoy didn't know him he might believe the quick way he says it but McCoy can read Kirk and the words have just the right amount of leave –me—alone and please—just—shut—up hidden in them.

"Bullshit."

"Really, I'm good , don't worry."

"If good looks like you Jim then what the hell does bad look like?" McCoy snorts.

Kirk's sickly pale and looks anything but good, McCoy reaches out to touch him intending to pull him closer and do another quick exam...after all it wouldn't be the first time Kirk got a concussion and insisted on walking around like he was okay when he obviously wasn't.

Kirk pulls back—flinches back— if McCoy's honest with himself and then other man's breathing quickens. "It's fine Bones." He seems to read McCoy's mind. "I don't have a concussion or anything like that...just a bad headache."

McCoy snorts. "Last time I let you diagnose yourself kid, you wanted me to believe you "just had a cut" when you had an open fracture. So I'm not going to—" McCoy reaches out to grab Kirk as one hand fumbles in his pocket for a mini medscanner. As soon as McCoy's hand touches Kirk's shoulder he goes stiff, involuntarily pulling away. The remaining blood in Kirk's face seems to have drained away and all of a sudden he looks like a frightened child.

McCoy's sees his throat bob, once, twice, then he makes a gulping sound and brings a hand to his mouth. "Bathroom's over their Jim." McCoy sighs nodding toward the door that a few steps away to his left. Kirk's already moving and disappears inside. McCoy's left standing in the corridor, students walking past. He replays the last few hours in his head. Kirk flinching when he's touched, not speaking, not looking at anybody.

He may not be a genius but he's smart enough know that Kirk isn't acting like a headache is the only thing that's bothering him. McCoy pushes open the bathroom door to find Kirk hasn't even managed to make it to a stall. He's bent over a sink, mostly dry heaving and looking like crap. Some guy is finishing up at a urinal and comes over to wash his hands.

McCoy recognises him as Finnegan, one of Kirk's erstwhile rivals who seemed from day one to have taking issue with him. Finnegan isn't sympathetic. "Out late again? Get what you deserve, can't wait until they kick your entitled party boy ass out back to where you belong."

McCoy bristles at the comment, but Kirk manages to gasp out past heaves. "Fuck you."

Finnegan laughs and slaps Kirk on the shoulder in a way that he could only get away with because Kirk was too busy being sick to retaliate. "I'm not the one hacking up a lung. Can't handle your liquor? Looks like you're the one who got fucked Jimmy boy." Finnegan walks past McCoy and flashes him a grin. "See you Doc, go take care of your boyfriend."

McCoy wants to say a whole lot more but instead he settles for "Just get out, asshole."

Finnegan leaves still laughing and McCoy's left with Kirk who is mostly done being sick. He's coughing and his arms are trembling as he supports himself over the sink. Finally, he wipes away the strings of saliva and bile dangling from his lips and straightens up.

McCoy shifts uncertainly and then blurts out. "You feel a little better?" then immediately regrets it. Kirk has got to be feeling worse he looks like hell, and obviously feels like it, plus this has got to be at least the fifth times he's thrown up that day and his stomach muscles have to be killing him.

It's pure crap but Kirk says it anyway. "Yeah, I'm good."

McCoy sees right through that statement but settles for running a furtive scan on Kirk. It's easy because his friend walks ahead keeping just out of arms reach... the few time McCoy gets closer he starts to walk faster or moves to the side. If McCoy wasn't watching closely he might think it was an accident as it is he knows it's not... Kirk doesn't want to be touched but McCoy doesn't know why.

They arrive at the messhall and not unexpectedly Kirk takes sips of soda and pushes his small pile of food (that McCoy forced him to get) across his plate.

A few engineering students join them at the table...and then a medical student McCoy recognises from there medicinal botany class comes over too...with Gaila innocently trailing behind. McCoy knows it's no coincidence the Orion woman chooses to sit at their table. She's been none too subtle in her attempts to get Kirk to sleep with her and surprisingly Gaila is the one woman who even though she's offering freely and multiple times a day he never takes up. It's weird but McCoy's always assumed even Kirk must have had some limits and Gaila would certainly push anybody's limits.

Predictably, Gaila settles next to Kirk and McCoy watches the exchange that starts.

"Hi, Jim."

"Hey."

"Last class I really had some trouble with the vector calculations and I was wondering would you mind explaining them to me...The professor said if I was having trouble I should get a tutor and since you have some of the highest grades ...well I thought." Gaila takes Kirk silence for agreement and tugs out a Padd. Kirk takes the Padd but then stares at it blankly for a few moments before pulling up some page and explaining. His voice is hoarse and he looks increasingly uncomfortable as Gaila feigns rapt attention while moving closer and closer to Kirk. Her hands are drifting lower and lower too and McCoy knows from sitting next to her too many times where they're going...Gaila really has no boundaries.

Normally this Kirk would be uncomfortable and might make some joke or scoot away but this time as Gaila leans in close and kisses his cheek "Thanks Jim, I really get it now." As she says "get it" her hands drift even lower and McCoy's pretty sure he knows where they are. He's about to intervene because Jim obviously isn't enjoying her attention but he's not saying anything either, when Kirk stands up dropping the Padd on the table with a heavy clatter and bolting out the messhall.

A few people are staring now, and Gaila is looking disappointed as always and stares wistfully at where Kirk has disappeared from the messhall. McCoy leaves to find Kirk and it takes a moment before he spots him, half hidden in an alcove. He's sitting on a bench head hanging down in his hands and heavy breaths shuddering through him.

McCoy sits opposite and Kirk jerks, his eyes flicking upward panic in them for just a moment until he sees who it is.

"What are you doing?"

The next words are muffled, and a poor attempt at being snide. "Trying not to throw up."

"Headache's that bad kid?" Kirk gives a barely perceptible nod and McCoy's already prepping a hypo of one of the few medications Kirk can take, it's only a mild one to take the edge off but it's better than nothing. McCoy continues conversationally. "Sounds like you might have a migraine." Kirk shrugs and McCoy delivers the hypo, letting the medication hiss into Kirk's blood stream before he continues. "But a migraines not the only thing going on with you."

Kirk still doesn't speak, instead he carefully straightens up as the medication starts to take effect. "Thanks Bones." He already starting to stand up and says the last words like a quick dismissal. " I feel a lot better."

"Damn it Jim, what's going on with you?" McCoy grabs his arm keeping him from standing, and is rewarded with Kirk visibly pulling away for a second or two before he forces himself to relax. "You're pale as a ghost and look like you've seen one, you're not looking me or anyone in the face, every time someone gets near you flinch and—"

"It's noth—"

"Shut up, don't tell me one fucking word if it isn't true...don't even speak if you're just going to lie. "

Kirk glances up at that for the first time meeting McCoy's eyes. He holds his gaze for just a second before turning to stare at his feet but in that second McCoy's see the dark rings around his eyes , the fear and...shame... that are hidden there.

Before McCoy can ask, Kirk starts to tell him. His voice is low and no matter how much McCoy tries to catch his eye he's looking anywhere else but at his friend. "Last night you said..." Kirk stops and then tries again. "After we left the bar , you told me ..." Abruptly he breaks off, and stares at his hands.

Minutes pass and finally McCoy's who's been wracking his mind for what he might be talking about asks "I told you what Jim?"

Kirk turns to look at him then. His eyes are shuttered, and his face is closed off. "Nothing...it's not important."

"If you took it so seriously it's pretty important, so I think—"

"It's none of your fucking business."

McCoy's surprised by the vitriol but he counters. "Jim, just tell me what is it."

Kirk stares at him for a moment like he's about to tell and then he takes a deep breath and raises his voice. "Fuck this, I don't have to tell you one goddamn thing...I never told anybody and I don't have to tell you."

Then he's gone and McCoy doesn't try to follow after. He reads the anger in his footsteps, the set of his shoulders, and the tightness of his jaw and by now knows Kirk well enough to know when it will be best for them both if he doesn't push...at least not right then.

Instead he sits back and tries to think about what he said that past night that would have wrought such a change. He had a beer or two and so his memory is a little hazy...but it was after he left the bar. He remembers being pissed, first at being dragged out to go drinking, then being ditched while Kirk had numerous assignations with people just the barest hint away from strangers.

He said some stuff last night...nothing more vitriolic than their usual insults...that is until he starts thinking back. He remembers the slut comment and the look on Kirk's face. He had thought at first it was indignation, now he looks back and sees the disgust in his own friends eyes...disgust at himself. The memory of what he said about an Orion Brothel makes him cringe especially as he remembers how Kirk was silent through it all but he looked sick...an expression he had until now attributed to the number of drinks he consumed.

And finally he remembers how pale and just...wrong Kirk looked as he wished him good night and McCoy feels sick at what he said back.

"Yeah, whatever. What don't you try to get back to your dorm room without stopping for a lay with somebody else. God damn it if I didn't know better I'd say you had a past life as a hooker."

And then Kirk had got sick and he taken him back to his dorm room and berated him for drinking so much. Yeah...I'm a great friend . McCoy thinks sarcastically.

There's something about what he said...something that caused Kirk to act the way he is now and he's got an idea...numerous ideas of what it could be... Either way he knows Kirk's never going to confess to him...

McCoy stands up a plan already forming. A sober Kirk would take a secret to his grave...but drunk...well let's just say McCoy didn't know he's friend so well because he was such a sharing individual normally.

XXXX XXXX

Kirk avoids McCoy for most of the day. He can't tell him, he doesn't want to see the look on his face if he knows what happened to him...what he did. He doesn't want Bones to be as disgusted and ashamed of him as he is with himself. McCoy's hard to avoid though and by the end of the day, he's finally cornered him in the messhall.

Kirk isn't feeling like eating, but he wasn't feeling like going to class that day either...some things just need to be done. He takes a few sips of soup and then pushes his tray away. Even those scant mouthfuls are pushing it, the soup's threatening to make a reappearance on the floor. He burps unexpectedly grateful when that's all that happens and closes his eyes willing his stomach calm.

"You busy tonight?"

Kirk jerks his eyes open as McCoy settles into the seat opposite him. He knows that the comment is just an opener to an interrogation and he doesn't want to be bothered. Instead of answering, he takes another spoonful of his dinner, which he really doesn't want just so he'll have something to do.

McCoy seems as unfazed as always and Kirk mentally braces himself for the barrage of concern and questions that will soon start. He blinks in surprise as McCoy says instead. "You up for a drink?"

Kirk frowns totally confused, part of him is suspicious wondering at how out of character it is for McCoy to offer a person still recovering from a bender more liquor. The other part of him is gratefully grasping the opportunity to do anything that doesn't involve spilling the secret he really doesn't want to tell and reliving the memories he really doesn't want to relive.

McCoy's sees the look on Kirk's face and continues before his plan can become too obvious. He knows he's caught his friend off guard and with only a twinge of guilt proceeds to make use of it. "We got two big exams coming up and I haven't studied for any of them. I was thinking tonight..."

Kirk really doesn't want to do anything but go back to his dorm room, and maybe sleep...maybe just lie in the dark. "I'm kind of tired Bones."

McCoy can read it in his face that it's more than just tiredness it's a ploy to get away and he's not allowing it...So he pulls the guilt trip allowing his indignant southern tones to deepen to their characteristic gruff annoyance. "Yeah, of course you're tired. You spent half last night drinking your liver into an early grave and didn't care that some of us actually wanted to study because maybe we all can't be geniuses...That Astro-nav course is required if I fail then..."

He trails off and Kirk predictably looks uncomfortable, knowing that McCoy had wanted to study and he had insisted that they go out for drinks yesterday instead. "Yeah, okay I'll come."

XXXX XXXX

McCoy's sets out a almost full bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He's not messing around. Beer would be a good sight cheaper, but he doesn't want Jim drunk; he wants him completely wasted. It's messed up that that's what it takes for Jim to talk and it's messed up that McCoy has seen Kirk drunk enough to know that but that's how things are. There are some things Kirk would never have told sober and whatever is bothering him is one of those things.

He unpacks the medical bag he's prepared and stashes the contents in his desk drawer. He's brought a few hypos on anti-emetics, and analgesics as well as some vitamin boosters ( the few medications that Kirk can actually take), for afterwards, because two massive hangovers one on top of the other is going to be awful the next day...Good thing it'll at least be the weekend.

XXXX XXXX

Kirk arrives to find McCoy already reading something on a Padd, a glass of whisky in his hand and a mostly full bottle on the table in front of him. McCoy glances up, and nods towards the stack of pads. "Figured we could study the warp equations first and then get into the more advanced stuff."

"Yeah, sure." Kirk slips into the dorm, noting that McCoy's dorm-mate is as usual absent and probably will be for the better part (if not all) of the night.

"You want some?" McCoy gestures toward the bottle of whiskey, but Kirk makes no move to take it. He's weighing what's going on...McCoy's acting too calm, and Kirk's sure he's planning something...but then again the doctor is obviously planning on getting drunk ad only does that when he's really stressed...So whatever he's planning is probably not tonight. Maybe this is his way for apologizing for probing him incessantly for information earlier.

"Yeah sure." Kirk grabs the bottle and pours himself a generous helping. He takes a sip and then a larger gulp. The whiskey feels good burning down his throat to settle in his stomach, as it hits him, briefly remembers that he's eaten almost nothing that day and knows that he'll regret that in the morning after he's had another glass or two. However, for now it's all good. His headache is easing up again and he feels a little lighter.

"What's the fundamental theorem that Warp Theory is based on?" McCoy asks looking up from a data Padd.

Kirk answers and then pours himself another glass...

Minutes pass trading answers and Kirk drinking more and more.

He doesn't notice that McCoy has drank one and a half glasses at most and is nursing his second drink with only a sip here or there. It might knock another person on his or her ass but McCoy's drank a lot more in his time, plus he's got to stay sober enough that he can talk to Kirk once he's pliable enough.

Except that might not have worked. Kirk turns to him, his eyes unfocused and face starting to get flushed... He's had about five drinks in quick succession and that's mostly without any encouragement from McCoy. The doctor considers stopping him as he reaches for the bottle again, his hands unsteady this time. He has a pretty high tolerance but five glasses in the span of a little over a half an hour are enough to hit anybody like a ton of bricks. McCoy does some quick calculating in his head trying to figure out blood alcohols levels and risk for alcohol poisoning and is interrupted by Kirk saying. " Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He asks the question while pouring another glass of whiskey slopping it from the bottle in an untidy stream. His voice is slurred and McCoy sees him staring like he doesn't really care about the answer.

McCoy's wants to outright lie but he can't bring himself to. Instead he settles for the half truth. "Nope, kid I'm trying to get us both drunk." It's not exactly a lie McCoy's pretty sure after he hears whatever Kirk's going to tell him he'll be glad of a few shots of whiskey to take the sting out but he does feel just a little bad for taking advantage of Kirk's trust in him.

"Oh...okay." Kirk picks up his glass sloshing a little whiskey out as he drains the glass in one long gulp.

That's six.

McCoy lets him pour another one though under normal circumstances he would have long since at least attempted to stop him, instead he watches as he takes a few swallows from his new glass before setting it down. He's definitely drunk now, and hopefully enough so that he's not going to be able to help talking.

McCoy takes a sip from his own glass trying to figure out how best to say it..."Jim"

"Yeah?"

"What did I say yesterday that bothered you?"

Kirk turns to him and smirks, looking pretty silly with a drunken lopsided grin on his face. "The same stuff you always do...you're fucking annoying you know that." He takes another swallow of his drink and adds. "But I like you anyway Bones."

McCoy can't help but smile slightly at the candour that Kirk somehow only is capable of displaying when he's uninhibited. Then he says. "What exactly was it though?"

"Was what?" Kirk asks like he's genuinely puzzled...and maybe he is. He's definitely not firing on old cylinders right now.

"You know ,I said something and then you got a weird look on your face and all of today you've been acting off." Kirk is silent as McCoy continues. "Something upset you."

"It's nothing." Kirk instantly says, but McCoy notices the way he drinks the rest of his glass in one harsh gulp.

McCoy let's him pour half a glass before snatching the bottle back from his unsteady hands. "Bones!" McCoy ignores the irritated shout, it would carry more weight if half Kirk's words weren't trending toward slurred incoherency. McCoy knows what he has to do so he pushes. "We left the bar and then I joked about you being a slut and the look that crossed your face..."

Kirk freezes as McCoy speaks, his eyes are somewhere else not quite meeting McCoy's but not avoiding them either. McCoy hesitates but when no answer is forthcoming, he continues. "Then I made a joke about the people you slept with and an Orion Brothel and—"

Kirk's really looking weird now, the glass in his hand is shaking and he's met McCoy's eyes but McCoy has found that he can't bear to stare into Kirk's.

They're hurt, like a visceral pain shining outward, plus their shame, embarrassment, disgust and a bunch of other emotions McCoy doesn't want to identify. He quickly finishes, feeling awful as he repeats what he said last night, and watches as the colour drains from Kirks face. He makes a strangled sound and drains the last of the liquor in his glass. His hand is trembling so hard some of the liquid slops down his chin.

"Jim?"

Kirk stares at him still not speaking and when he finally does his voice is slurred and cracking. "I'm not telling you."

McCoy can hear the fractured resolve in the tone and knows if he pushes Kirk will break... He drains the last of his glass and takes a deep breath. It feels wrong to be complicit to breaking him more than he's already broken...but then again this is the only way he'll ever find a way to build him back up. "Okay, don't tell me now, don't tell me tomorrow. But I'm not stopping asking you until you say what it is. It's eating you up inside."

He swallows sharply, then looks back up and McCoy can see his eyes are dampening. McCoy can barely hear him as he whispers. "You're going to hate me when you know."

McCoy would tell him how that's not true, but he knows Kirk can't and won't believe him.

His voice is just above a whisper and he staring at the ground when he starts. "Things weren't so great back at home...but when my brother left it got a lot worse. Frank—liked to punish me and—" He breaks off and digs his fingernails hard enough into his palm that McCoy sees small the small crescent indentations left behind slowly fill with blood.

McCoy wants to believe that the punishments were something physical even though that's not really any better than what he knows Kirk is implying.

Kirk takes a deep shuddering breath and his voice strengths a little. "I went to live with family for a while...off planet. It was okay and then stuff started going bad...really bad... I didn't want to...But we were hungry and I was just a kid...and then later I had too for the others...If I did it then the younger kids wouldn't have to ...and..." He trails off and laces his fingers together popping he knuckle joints so loud it sounds like gunshots in the confines of the room.

McCoy wants to break in and ask where this had happened. This was the 23rd century, things like what Kirk was describing didn't happen in the civilized universe...except apparently it still did.

It's silent for a moment and then he starts again. "You ever had to do something cause it was the only way?" McCoy nods but Kirk's already adding. " Well that's what it was like...we...we were just kids –just kids Bones and I couldn't let them die could I?"

Kirk continues on before McCoy can answer "and then when I got caught, I couldn't tell what they wanted so they—the guards—they—" He breaks off and rubs his wrists working the skin until it's bright pink. He's swallowing more now, thick sharp gulps, before he speaks. "My mom took me back home eventually, but I couldn't stay there...and when I left home I was still really screwed up., but there was this woman...and she ...well...Humans especially young humans are a treat in some parts of the galaxy... Aliens will buy us up to...to..."

McCoy fills bile fill his mouth and swallows it down sharply. He wants to not believe what he's hearing but the lie he longs to hear drowns in the truth of what he can't help but believe.

"I was already on some pretty heavy stuff back then, but what they gave me and the rest of us...you couldn't have stopped if you wanted too and after the first few hits nobody wanted to stop anyway...it wasn't—wasn't so bad you know...I didn't like it but it wasn't so bad, they didn't force me...sometimes..."

He stops dragging his nails across the back of his hands until reddish rivulets run from the furrows he's dug in his own skin. He shaking too and his voice is so unsteady as he finishes. "I got out eventually, but after that...after it all..." He looked up and met McCoy's eyes. "If it's my choice then what does it matter...if it makes me feel good then it's okay."

He asks the last part like a desperate question and McCoy is sure that he already knows the answers. Because he may have agreed, in most cases now he may even initiate what happens. But consent because it's your choice is very different from consent because you were never given a choice and you don't know the difference now.

There's a sharp contrast between choosing to be promiscuous and feeling like that's what you have to be.

McCoy feels sick himself as he watches Kirk trembling with tears running down his face. He suddenly looks much younger than his twenty years, much like the child he must have been when his innocence was taken.

There's something about Kirk that makes every protective instinct he ever had kick into overdrive and that's something only Joanna had ever managed to do. All he can see now is the little boy behind the grown man and unbidden his mind imagines how he would feel if his little girl had been the one in Kirk's position. The images are too much. He lurches up and manages to reach the tiny dorm bathroom before his dinner and possibly lunch makes a reappearance.

He gets back moments later to find Kirk still sitting where he left him. His face is bone-white and he appears so exhausted. His voice is hoarse as he looks up and practically begs. "Please don't make me say anymore. Please." He's got tears dripping into his shirt and McCoy can feel his own eyes smarting with unshed tears. He expected something bad, but nothing like this. Part of him wants to know the details, wants to know how old he was, and what happened exactly so he can take down whatever sick fucks allowed it to occur. However, Kirk's plea still rings in his ears.

So instead, he drains a newly poured glass of liquor and says. "Okay Jim."

Kirk looks away and mumbles "You hate me now, think I'm disgusting...wish I never told you." He gives a laugh that dies out to quickly and silently to be real. "I really am a slut...probably deserved what I got...Like Frank used to say."

McCoy stiffens at that, he wants to stand up and shatter stuff just because he's angry, he wants to drink until he's drunk enough to forget what he just heard and forget the images that he can't get from his mind now. But doing that won't help Kirk...McCoy doesn't exactly what he can do that will.

Nobody deserved what had happened to him.

Kirk stands up, he's unsteady and he knocks into the table knocking over the half-full bottle of liquor that's open. "Shit, sorry I'll clean it. I—" He swipes a hand across his face brushing away tears and then turns back to face McCoy.

He's wary now and still pale as a ghost but McCoy can see by the set of his shoulders that he's trying to pull it together. "Look I'll leave you alone from now on...just...just...please don't tell anybody what I told you." He continues on his eyes bloodshot and wild and his voice slurred. "I know you don't owe me anything but please...I can't have everybody know how fucked up I am—I can't have everybody know that—that—". He breaks off, a weird expression crossing his face and that's all the warning McCoy gets before at least a cup or two of sour booze and stomach acid splash down to decorate the throw rug and now forgotten data Padds.

"Sorry—I'm—sorry" He's still apologizing even as he continues to retch into the garbage bin McCoy quickly snatched up. "I'll leave in a—" The words are lost in another heave and it's a few minutes before Kirk manages to stop.

When he does he's still apologizing, apologies, pleas being endlessly repeated and tears and snot running down his face.

McCoy grabs his arm keeping him in place as he tries to stand. Kirk flinches at the touch but McCoy doesn't let go, instead he tightens his fingers.

He can't fix what happened in the past but he can try to fix what's happened now. "Jim...Jim"

It takes the second time for Kirk to look up, McCoy holds his gaze as he speaks putting as much conviction as possible behind his words. "That was stupid what I said. And I didn't mean it then, and I sure as hell don't mean it now. I don't hate you...I don't think you're disgusting or whatever self-deprecating crap you want me to believe. "

McCoy stops but then feels there's something else he needs to say. "Nobody deserves what happened to you." He swallows and licks his lips before adding. "You don't deserve what happened to you."

Kirk stares at him for a few more minutes and then his face wets with more silent tears. McCoy pretends not to see them as he grabs the hypos he stashed away earlier and cleans the self-inflicted cuts to Kirk's palms and the back of his hands. Fifteen minutes later Kirk's on the couch half way between sleeping and waking. "Bones?"

"Yeah?"

It's the sleepy, drunken question of a miserable person. "If I didn't deserve it then why didn't anybody stop it?"

And McCoy doesn't have the answer.

He wants to find Winona and wring her neck. He wants whoever that slave trader was and the clients, guards whoever else to rot in hell. He wants to say something that will make everything better...but life doesn't work that way. Instead, he says the only thing he can. And it's a promise he intends to keep. Kirk is halfway asleep and he probably won't remember it all in the morning but McCoy hopes he remembers this. He rest a hand on Kirk's shoulder and gives a slight squeeze. "I don't know Jim, but nothing's going to happen to you again. You at least got me kid...and I'm not letting anything happen to you."

Thanks for reading. This story technically doesn't fit in the series but I don't have many options for formatting on this site. This fic is actually a sequel to Just Lose it, not a part of the series After Tarsus. If you wish to see this series and all my other works in their actual form as intended complete with tags and such check me out on AO3. I post there before posting here, sometimes weeks or months earlier.