Author's Note: Thank you for reading and commenting last chapter! Just a head's up that Spock might seem a little OOC through certain parts of this story.

Thank you, diamondblue4 and junker5, for editing this chapter! I know it's work - and I greatly appreciate the time you invest into the story.

I almost split this chapter up but didn't want to disappoint any of you with the lack of Jimmy and McCoy moments. :D So you get an unusually long update this time. :)

oOo

Chapter Nine

How Did We Forget (That Love Was on Our Side)

oOo

Sitting in the opposite corner from McCoy in the lab, Spock regards Archer on the viewscreen for the seventh time in just three short days.

There have been more questions than answers. More doubt than assurances.

He feels the tightening of the noose as the end of the two weeks close in, the time at which they must relinquish the young captain to his mother. A woman who has failed to care for and nurture him from the first time she held him in her arms.

He has not let a moment pass by without looking for a way that will allow them to keep their small captain under their care. He cannot fathom Winona Kirk deep in the bliss of a second-chance at motherhood, lovingly cradling her son in her arms, for he is unable to believe the woman has an ounce of compassion for her son within her. Jim may call her on 'Remembrance Day,' the anniversary of his father's death, and his birthday, but it does not mean that she answers. Or, if she does, that she asks about her son's well-being beyond a barely socially acceptable inquiry.

He does not know if Jim has read the logs of those who witnessed his birth in the shuttle, but he has. He has not confessed to Archer his recent, criminal behavior, his hacks into the confidential and personal files of the Kelvin crew, nor will he. It was also necessary to protect Jim, his friend and captain. For now, he, along with two others on New Vulcan, are the only ones who know that it is possible to begin building a case against Winona with a few presses of a button and the testimony of Jim's brother, Sam, could they find him and prove her negligence.

After the baby had been placed in Winona's arms, and the initial shock of losing her husband had worn off, she had ignored her own son, refusing to look at him for the duration of the shuttle ride as she grieved with her back turned towards him.

Her disregard of her own newborn son had not ended there.

Indeed, she had pushed him away from the moment they were rescued, and medical personnel had detailed her behavior not only in her medical file—but their personal logs. There is also documentation of continuing intervention for up to four weeks following Jim's birth, from visiting nurses and other health professionals. However, after that date the records are incomplete, and strangely so, their 'holes' matching up with those of Jim's childhood medical records and the corresponding undocumented history. Strangely absent was any documentation of the abuse Jim had suffered, first as a small child and continuing throughout his childhood during Winona's long absences. Abuse that Jim had suffered at the hand of his uncle, and revealed to Dr. McCoy in pieces over the years.

Incomprehensible.

Archer unsettles him. As does the mere thought of Winona Kirk. The woman is an officer in Starfleet, nonetheless, and Archer a powerful man. Yet the admiral's scope is limited, which prevents him from locating the heinous limb of Section 31 and cutting it off permanently.

He dares not reveal his anxiousness to anyone, especially Leonard.

Leonard is close to breaking in a way that Spock has not seen since Jim's death in the warp core. Consumed with reversing the age regression and too stubborn to cease his efforts, the smallest interruption sets him off. Like a spark to an accelerant, or an explosive on the brink of detonating.

The tension is thick, consuming them both. He, too, is torn. He contemplates his choice between spending time with Jimmy or setting a tray of food on the doctor's desk.

In the end he chooses to aid in Leonard's survival. He provides the doctor with sustenance.

It is not the choice he wants to make. He is aware of the challenges Jimmy faces despite the attention he receives from his caretakers. Loneliness. Sadness. He is painfully aware. Yet it does not change the fact that Leonard can no longer function if left to his own devices and, at the same time, continue to give all that he has to their research efforts. Efforts that will bring their captain back and end the looming threat before their time runs out.

Simply put, the doctor is not Vulcan. He will eventually collapse from exhaustion, if someone does not convince him to change his course of action.

Spock has never before felt so uncomfortable in the lab as he does now. Leonard's usual scowl has turned into a sorrowful grimace that Spock cannot bear to watch. The doctor's eyes are given to glazing over as he pours himself into their research without respite to eat or sleep. He does not answer when they call him by name, and barely glances at the notes Nurse Chapel sends him twice a day.

Leonard, for all appearances, has entered another world, one with a thick, impenetrable wall surrounding it.

He is concerned that if Leonard is even reminded that the end is near, he will crack, and the doctor that they know will become a shell of his former self.

He reveals none of this to the admiral. Unlike before, when he waited with bated breath for Archer's statements, he no longer is confident that the admiral has been completely truthful with them.

He does not know what it will take to get the whole truth. Yet he is willing, above everything else, to do all that is necessary to uncover it in order to keep Jim...Jimmy safe.

"Whitcliffe denies Section 31's involvement in Hart's murder," Archer says.

Of course. Spock expects no less coming from Whitcliffe. "I do not believe you," he challenges.

"I never said that I believed him, Commander," Archer's response is clipped, the furrow between his eyes deepening.

Spock blinks, shaken that he has forsaken logic for an emotional response. "Your tone is not convincing," he says sharply, covering his illogical slip.

It is the harshest criticism he has ever given an admiral, the only criticism, and he stares at Archer expecting a rebuke.

Archer surprises him with a sigh. "I want to believe him," he admits. "It would make things easier. Yet it makes no sense to me that Hart's murder was an act unrelated to the situation at hand, Captain Kirk's regressed state. I fear that Yorktown could be crawling with others willing to carry out these reprehensible orders, orders which have no business coming from Starfleet. But Whitcliffe denies their involvement, and we have combed, very carefully I might add, Mr. Spock, through hundreds of records and nothing indicates otherwise." He pauses, looks down at his hands and adds quietly, "You'll have to sit tight for now, Commander. That is all that I can tell you until we gain Whitcliffe's full cooperation—or we become aware of further intel ourselves."

"I will not leave Captain Kirk's life to chance," he says with a disdainful curl to his lip.

"And I don't expect you to," Archer acknowledges. "Be on alert. Trust no one."

Spock barely refrains from sneering at him, his lack of control stemming from a decline in his time spent in meditation, an activity he has all but forgotten about. "No one?"

Archer's smile is hesitant, but believable. "I hope you feel you can trust me, and the others I have looking into this mess, but I understand if you don't. Were you here on Earth I could do more. We could do more. I'll send the copies of the legal documents Whitcliffe's office has drawn up regarding custody of Jimmy and the names of the social worker and child psychiatrist who will be assigned to him to make the transition from Yorktown to his mother easier."

Spock flinches. According to the last report, HQ's messages will reach the ship on which Winona Kirk is stationed within two days. Longer than HQ had anticipated. Too soon for the Jim's crew, nonetheless.

"I don't like it, either," Archer says in a low voice, leaning in towards the screen. "Nor do I like it that all of you are sitting ducks out there. However, as it stands, I don't think you should risk getting on another ship but your own, quite frankly. And yours, unfortunately, is far from being ready."

A thud jars Spock from his conversation with Archer.

"Is he listening this time?" Archer asks, eyes filling with concern.

One look at Leonard's desk informs him that he has not been eavesdropping. Instead, the doctor is slumped over with his head on his desk and his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

He has fallen asleep.

It is his job to make sure he is undisturbed. "I must go," he murmurs.

"Keep in touch, Commander." Archer narrows his eyes. "And take care of yourself, first, or you'll be no good to that young boy."

The screen grows black. He walks over to Leonard, carefully removing the PADD from under his head and placing the samples that were now precariously close to the edge of his desk on another counter.

He continues their work on his own, relieved that an entire hour passes before Leonard lifts his head and glares at him.

"Dammit, Spock," he grouses. "Wake me up the next time I fall asleep."

He stands and stares down his nose at the doctor. "I will not."

Leonard scowls and jerks his head, indicating the samples that he'd previously removed to safety. "Hand me those again. I had an idea." He rubs his eyes. "I think."

Spock clasps his hands behind his back. "No."

Leonard looks at him owlishly. "Fine, I'll do it myself."

Spock steps aside as the doctor stumbles to the adjoining consoles, leaning on them for support as he walks over to the far counter.

"You know you coulda made it a lot easier for me if you'd just handed them over," Leonard grumbles, reaching for them. He suddenly stops, recognizing that his hand is shaking at the same time that Spock does. "Dammit," he whispers. He rubs his eyes and stares down at the offending appendage before withdrawing his arm and slowly clenching his hand into a fist. "Jesus, Spock, we have days. Hours."

"You cannot continue to work like this," Spock advises softly.

Leonard's eyes grow surprisingly sharp. "And let Jim continue life as a extremely vulnerable child?"

"That, too, is unacceptable."

Leonard blinks at him. "We're at a stalemate."

He wishes it were not true. "Jim would not wish for you to damage your own health."

Leonard sighs wearily and shakes his head. "Don't even go there, Spock. I need one more day then I'll take a break."

"You said that at 2200 hours, two days ago, Dr. McCoy."

"So, I lied." Leonard grunts and snatches the samples with renewed energy, turning around and striding back to his desk. "Let's get back to work."

"Very well." Spock walks by Leonard's desk and grabs his comm when he is not looking, a task that is far too easy to accomplish.

Fifteen seconds later, a message to Nurse Chapel is sent directly from Dr. McCoy's device.

oOo

Jaylah enters James T's house with caution, eyeing the security personnel from the Enterprise that had survived Krall's attack. They line the corridor and guard the door, a necessary precaution according Commodore Harris. But too much has happened, too much that will frighten a small child, for her to relax anywhere she goes.

Even here, in a house created for no ordinary child.

She wishes to steal him away for herself, taking him far from the things that threaten to harm him.

At least he has his friends, if they will only come back to visit him. She is angry for James T, who murmurs the names of them in his sleep, and cries for them when he is lonely. Names of friends who have forgotten that a boy lives here, a boy who believes he had been abandoned.

She knows what it is like to be a child and all alone, and that is why she decided to come here long before her shift begins.

She looks about the room and sees them sitting by the window. Not only Sulu, but Nyota, too, who often refuses to leave the little boy even when her shift is done.

Sulu holds James T in his arms, pointing at a spot in the distance as they look outside through the window. "That is where Demora loves to play," he explains. "The park."

The boy tucks his head into the curve of Sulu's neck, hiding his face completely.

Nyota and Sulu exchange a look over him.

"With slides and sandboxes, and a swing that lifts you practically to the moon," Sulu murmurs, stroking James T's back. "Ben and I will take you and Demora there as soon as Nurse Chapel allows it."

James T still says nothing.

Sulu and Nyota exchange another look. "We need to do something," he whispers.

Nyota's eyes fill with determination. McCoy, she mouths to Sulu.

"Good luck with that," Sulu mutters. "They aren't letting anyone even near the laboratory. Chekov and I already tried. What about…" Spock, he mouths. "Throw a little logic at him, he's bound to come."

Nyota shakes her head. "Already tried that. He is taking it upon himself to make sure Leonard is functioning and eats enough. He said it was the most logical choice since all of us were here."

Jaylah cannot stand back any longer. She approaches them, joined by Christine who enters from another door in the room.

"This is not...right," Jaylah insists as they walk side by side.

"I know," Christine says, nodding, stopping when they reach Sulu and Nyota. "We all feel the same way. The good news is that I have just received a message from Commander Spock that will change things for the better around here."

Nyota visibly relaxed. "Something must have happened to change his mind."

"Sehlat?" James T whispers.

Nyota breaks into a tender smile meant for the young boy. "You enjoyed Mr. Spock's stories about his sehlat, didn't you?"

James T looks at the ground, avoiding her eyes.

"I've just learned that Mr. Spock will see you soon, Jimmy," Christine says.

James T shakes his head.

"When Mr. Spock makes a promise, he keeps it," Nyota says gently.

"You've been so brave, Jimmy," Christine murmurs, stroking his head. "You need one more set of shots but we're going to delay it until later today."

James T blinks at her, a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

Christine smiles. "This will be the last set of vaccinations," she says. "You've been so good, waiting to feel better, Jimmy. I don't think I even heard a peep of complaint from you the entire time. Just for that, you get something special," she holds out a stick, with something red like a ball on it. "Just don't tell Dr. McCoy."

James T squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

"Oh, no," Christine murmurs. "I forgot...I forgot that the doctor's name upsets him."

Nyota gently squeezes her arm. "Not your fault," she says, then turns to James T. "Jimmy," she says, brushing his hair from his face. "You earned that candy for being so brave for us."

Jaylah looks at it, confused. "What is...candy?"

"It is something sweet to eat," Nyota explains. "Like the cake you ate at the captain's party."

Jaylah brightens. She remembers. She'd had two slices of cake that night. "I would like that. I will have to find my own candy."

Glancing sideways at Jaylah, James T takes the stick with the red ball from Christine—and stretches his hand out towards her.

"Oh," Christine says, eyes widening. "He is offering his candy to you, Jaylah."

"James T, I cannot take your candy."

He nods, arm out.

"James T, no."

The boy frowns, practically shoving it towards her.

Sulu chuckles. "You better take it. I don't think he'll take no for an answer."

Jaylah can see for herself that the boy James T is the same as the adult James T. She swallows the lump in her throat and takes the stick with the red ball from him. "You gave away your prize for being brave."

Jaylah is certain she has never been given such a wonderful gift before.

James T scrunches up his face with what looks to be a great effort. "Don't wanna be bwave, Jaywah."

"Being brave sometimes hurts for a little bit, James T. But not much."

"My daddy was bwave," he whispers. "And he died."

Jaylah looks at the others the same time they look at her.

Christine clasps her hand over her mouth. "Oh, the poor baby."

"This has to end," Sulu hisses.

"We need to get Leonard now," Nyota whispers.

Christine firms her jaw. "I'm already on it. That was the message. Or messages." She lifts her chin. "I'll be back. And I won't be alone when I do."

She strides from the room, her eyes as fierce as a warrior's.

Jaylah knows now never to cross her.

Sulu gives a low whistle. "Don't think I want to be them right now."

Suddenly remembering the little boy, Jaylah turns back to James T and nods solemnly at him. "Your father was brave, James T. So was mine and he died."

His eyes widen.

She opens her arms to him. "I will tell you about Captain Numeer's ship and my friend's creatures that look like the same creatures in your house, James T."

He goes to her without making a fuss.

oOo

"You should take a good look at yourself, Leonard."

Leonard rubs the grittiness from his eyes and glances up to find Christine coming through the doorway of the laboratory. "I'd rather not."

His eyes still feel dry and hot from the lack of sleep, and he rubs them again, not completely certain she isn't an apparition. He hasn't seen anyone but Spock and the lab assistants for days, a decision made of his own volition. In fact, he can't remember the last time he'd stepped outside of this room. It does have, at his request, a hover cot shoved into the corner.

"You better," she says as she stands beside him. "Or you'll frighten a certain little blue-eyed boy with those dark circles under your eyes."

He looks down at his PADD, the results from the last tests he'd run with Spock blurring before him. He hopes she doesn't ask when he'd last slept. He isn't sure if he's taken anything above a catnap in days. "At this rate, I'll never see him," he mutters.

She sighs heavily. "But it's already been days since your last visit. An eternity to a little boy."

It's hard to ignore the implications of those words. In that time, all he's accomplished is hour after hour after hour away from the one person who matters the most to him.

"Days of nothing." He pushes away the device carelessly.

"On the contrary, Leonard," Spock says from his console. "We have discovered what does not—"

"Yeah, yeah, what doesn't work to change our captain back from a small child to his normal self," Leonard interrupts, his drawl thick with sarcasm. "Like that will help us."

It's rude and he should bite his lip to keep himself from saying something even worse to counter it.

But he doesn't.

"All we know is that his blood shows no abnormalities whatsoever, and without manipulating Jim's emotions and chancing that he won't regress, which we can't do without great risk, we won't make any progress in finding an antidote. If there even is a cure." He laughs dryly. "Our lab work could've been done by a first-year cadet."

The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth, but knowing he's unfairly treating his friend sours his stomach, as well.

Spock busies himself with work, quickly casting his eyes downward.

Leonard looks away guiltily.

Christine shakes her head at him.

"What?" he asks.

Her expression grows tight as the silence swells and crushes him with well-deserved judgment. Of the two of them, Spock has put in the most hours in the lab. Besides, the tests they were running were not, in fact, tests that first-year cadets could handle but tests that required someone with Spock's impeccable record of experience and intelligence.

And he certainly isn't hurting any less than Leonard is.

He'll never downplay the friendship Spock and Jim had. Jim needs Spock and, likewise, it has become clearer to him than ever that Spock needs Jim. Besides, it isn't like Leonard and Jim were more than friends, anyway. They're on level playing fields, so to speak.

Leonard racks his brain for a decent apology. He hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, but that's exactly what he'd done in his haste and anger. They hardly speak to one another as it is while they're in the lab, except to discuss the various tests they are running, over and over, like a broken record.

The truth is, the tests really are a broken record. Nothing resulting from them but lost hope and endless disappointment.

While he stares, tongue-tied, at no spot in particular in front of him, Christine clears her throat. He looks up. He's not surprised to see her narrowing her eyes at him, like a bird of prey seeking its victim.

Her body language is easy to read, proof that they've worked together a long time. Long enough for her to scold him like he's a child. But she's right. He is an idiot, and not just when it comes to Jim.

When it comes to Spock, too. Other than Jim, and perhaps Christine, Leonard can honestly say Spock is his closest confidante.

He's completely lost himself in his work, forgetting, too, that Spock is emotionally tied to this, as well, and forgetting about Jimmy's needs as a child. One thing is for sure. He doesn't need to check on the boy while looking like a zombie. Neither does he have to look in a mirror at himself. He's had plenty of experience over the years with a series of sleepless nights coupled with hard work, sometimes with alcohol, to know what would stare back at him from a mirror. A disheveled insomniac.

There's no doubt he looks like hell. Even if he had the time to see Jimmy, he couldn't go looking like this.

A heavy sigh rumbles from his chest. "Spock, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"An apology is unnecessary, as we are both under pressure," Spock says quietly, their eyes meeting as he looks up from his work.

Pressure to fix this before HQ can finally reach Winona.

"No," he protests. "No, it is. While it's inevitable that we'll lose ourselves in this, it's not an excuse to say inappropriate things just because we're upset."

Spock quirks a brow.

He winces. "What I mean is, it's not an excuse for me to say inappropriate things."

"You misunderstand," Spock says, smoothly getting to his feet. "I do not agree that we will—or should—lose ourselves in this operation." He takes several steps towards McCoy and clasps his hands behind his back, his eyes probing and, if he's reading him right, even pleading. "We must not lose sight of our purpose. More is at stake here than blood samples."

Immediately, the image of a darling little boy sweeps through his mind, flooding every part of him.

He missed him. "You mean...Jimmy," he says quietly.

Spock's usual inscrutable expression slips over his face, belying the previous emotion he'd shown. "I am certain your absence has affected him."

"It has," Christine says. "That's what I came to tell you both."

Something in him snaps. He lurches out of his chair, swaying momentarily from the accompanying dizziness, before rounding on her. There is only one thought in his mind. "Good God, Chris! Has he regressed again? Has he had another episode? What was I thinking, leaving him all alone—"

She places her hand on his arm, stopping him mid-sentence. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" He can't catch his breath, and swallows with difficulty. "How can I calm down when Jim is only three years old! Three! And I left him!"

"Because you have to, for his sake." She looks at him steadily. "You know he is not alone. He has me. He also has Sulu, Nyota and Jaylah. He hasn't regressed again. All I wanted to say was he isn't responding to any of us like he does to you. He's...well...for the lack of a better word...depressed."

He doesn't want to imagine Jim depressed, let alone a depressed three-year-old Jim. His shoulders droop with failure, but the instincts he's honed over the years about Jim surface like wildfire. "Is he eating? Is he sleeping?"

"He's doing as good a job with that as you are," Christine says.

His heart sinks, imagining Jimmy losing even more weight than his already thin body can handle. "So, not good," he says roughly.

"Last night, he hid under his bed again, which you'd know if you'd read my messages," she accused.

He hadn't read them because of the work he'd had to do in the lab—or maybe her reports had started to run together.

Her next words finish driving the stake into his heart. "He fell asleep holding his bunny with your name on his lips, as he always does."

"Dammit, Jim," he whispers, bracing his arms against his desk.

He cranes his neck to look at Spock, not trusting himself to ask what he wants most for fear he'll say no.

"Commodore Harris previously informed us that the starbase's resources are at our disposal." Spock comes to Leonard's desk and picks up his PADD. "Unfortunately, that does not include rest. Only you can avail yourself of that."

"I can take a hint."

"You'll do more than take a hint," Christine says sternly.

"But I haveta...haveta see Jim, first." He stumbles from his desk towards the doors, waving a dismissive hand at Spock. "Let me know if ya find any leads, Spock."

"Oh, no," Christine says, taking him by the arm, her grip made of steel. "You look dead on your feet, but it's your heavy drawl that's more telling. I'm making sure you go directly to your quarters, first. Six hours of sleep, Dr. McCoy. Maybe more. You can't see Jimmy looking like the walking dead. Spock will be with him while he waits for you."

He groans. "Six hours? Chris—"

"You'd expect me to take care of Jim if your positions were reversed, wouldn't you?"

She has him there. "Four hours."

"Five, and that's final."

"Okay," he reluctantly agrees.

He sleeps for eight.

oOo

Jimmy jumps up from his seat and hugs himself tightly when Mr. Spock walks into his house. He is excited to see him, but scared at the same time, and doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He hopes he doesn't hide the truth from him, like Mommy does sometimes.

When Mommy goes to work, she usually leaves him with Uncle Frank, who doesn't work except to deliver the strange boxes that come to their door. She says she always comes into his bedroom in the morning to give him a kiss while he's still sleeping. He has never actually felt her kiss him so he isn't sure she actually does. Wouldn't he know she was there, since she's his mommy? He always knows when Uncle Frank steps into his room, sometimes before he even calls his name from the door.

He thinks Mommy lies to him to try to make him not feel so sad. He feels sad about it, but he lies, too. When she comes home and asks him about his day, he always says he had a good day, so she doesn't feel sad about being gone for so long or hearing Uncle Frank complain about watching over him. Or ask him why his body hurts all over.

Then he gets a kiss on his forehead, one that he actually knows is real. He would lie over and over just to get that kiss.

Mr. Spock stares at him without a word, and Jimmy is certain that he's reading his mind when he says, "I will not lie to you, Young Jim."

He wrinkles his nose. Young Jim? What does that mean? Does that mean there's an Older Jim? Another...him?

"I will tell you a secret," Mr. Spock says softly, crouching in front of him.

He smiles, a happy feeling spreading through his chest. "I can keep a secwet."

Mr. Spock nods. "I am sure that you can, and that is why I must tell you why I have been away."

He nods back, breathless. It sounds very important! "Is it about the bad men?"

Mr. Spock's brows raise. "Yes," he says but does not ask him how he knows about them.

He bites his bottom lip, thinking of the guards surrounding his house. "Oh."

"You are young now, Jimmy, but you were once closer to my own age," Mr. Spock continues.

"I was big?" he asks, awed.

"Yes, Jimmy, you were an adult." Mr. Spock looks at him with dark eyes. "You were my friend. You were...Dr. McCoy's friend."

He'd been big, and now he is not? It makes sense now. That's why the doctor has stayed away.

He starts to cry. "He doesn't want m-me."

Mr. Spock closes his eyes as if in pain, then opens them long seconds later. "That is not true. He loves you as much as he did when you were an adult. He loves you so much that he is trying to find a way to fix what the bad men did to you. He worked too hard but he is stopping now to rest. He will no longer be in the lab but with you at all times, Young Jim, if you will give him another chance."

His chest heaves in distress and he can't stop it. "P-pwomise?"

"I promise, Young Jim." Mr. Spock takes his hand. "Do you promise?"

Jimmy stares up at him and nods, his tears stopping.

"Very well," Spock says quietly. "Now we must eat."

He eats as much as he can, even a few bites of vegetables, thinking about the secret the whole time.

He'd been big!

This secret is the most important one he's ever kept.

He'll never tell a soul—except for Bones.

oOo

Leonard is grateful no one is in Jimmy's 'house,' except for Christine, Spock, and two security guards from the Enterprise. She's already chewed him out. Hopefully, she's satisfied now. He isn't looking for more of it.

No one will be able to pry him away from Jimmy now that he's done working in the lab. Anything he does from now on—will be in here, where Jim is. No exceptions.

"He's been napping for an hour now," Christine whispers as he walks in. "His stomach is finally full for the first time since he woke up so young. I know that's what helped him fall asleep."

He clutches his tricorder and nods, focusing in on the small child tucked in a ball in the bed.

The boy's little mouth is parted slightly as he sleeps like Jim does—did—when he crashed on Leonard's couch.

"You're probably right," he says hoarsely.

Jesus, he looks like a baby. Especially holding that darned bunny.

His thin, small body is swallowed up by the bed, a stark contrast to the image swimming in his mind of a captain who loved to sprawl on the bed while he slept. His arms and legs bumping Leonard throughout the night when the stress of being captain became too much and he needed to sleep next to his best friend to satisfy his craving for a comforting physical touch.

His friend is gone, and in his place is this child who has no idea of the trouble and danger surrounding him.

Jimmy's brow furrows, as if he is dreaming, and a soft sigh escapes through his open lips.

"Just look at that," Christine whispers. "I've had to stop myself from disturbing him. He's so adorable."

He spies the new bruises she'd commed him about on his way here. They snake down Jimmy's arm like tattoos, reminders of that abusive bastard.

Jim regressing in age is difficult enough, but having to deal with future injuries is a living nightmare.

He'd noticed it the first day—and had tried hard not to dwell on it since. But it is no longer safe to delay the inevitable. He should take the time to write down what he remembers from what Jim had told him about his childhood. God knows the worse of it isn't even in his medical records. His staff should be prepared; Spock, too.

He can't let himself go beyond that. Not yet.

He sits on the edge of the bed and gently touches the darkest bruises. "Maybe we should find him some long sleeves. I don't want him to see these when he wakes up."

"I'll find him a shirt," Christine says. "Are you still planning to go to the park with the Sulus?"

"Yes." He gently squeezes the boy's hand without looking up at her. "Commodore Harris has assured us security will be there."

"Good," she whispers. She places her hand on his shoulder and squeezes it. "He needs time to play with another child. It'll be good for all of you. I'll get that shirt and be right back."

"Thanks, Christine." All he wants to do is stay here, with Jimmy, where he should've been in the first place. Damn the regression. Damn Section 31. Damn everything else but showing a little boy that he won't leave him again, that he loves him with his whole heart.

Spock, who he'd forgotten was even there, stands at the end of the bed with his hands clasped behind his back. "I believe he already knows, Leonard. He asked for you as soon as he was given the last of his vaccinations."

Leonard swallows. "Yeah?" He scans the boy for further injury, and finding none, breathes a sigh of relief.

But it's only a matter of time. And if Jimmy isn't in his care, but Winona's, what will Jimmy have to endure?

For the first time in his life, he wishes he had the wherewithal—the goddamn ability—to do something Jim would do.

Something drastic.

Something entirely crazy.

Something illegal.

Like steal Jimmy from right under HQ's noses.

"Oh, Jimmy," he whispers.

"Doctor?" Spock inquires.

"Later," he murmurs as Jimmy's long lashes flutter. "Christine?" he calls softly. "Have that shirt yet?"

"I do." She rushes over, and helps him guide the garment over Jimmy's head and his arms through the holes.

Soon, those precious bright blue eyes stare back at him.

"Why, hello," he says, smiling tentatively.

Jimmy blinks. "Are you weal? Not a dream?"

He nods. "I'm as real as you are."

The boy brings his bunny up to his chin. "And my bunny?"

He fights a smile. "As real as your bunny, too."

"I missed you," Jimmy whispers.

"I…" He cards his fingers through the boy's blonde hair. "I…" He falters, words like I failed you and I don't deserve you and I'm sorry and I won't leave you again and I'll always be there for you on the tip of his tongue.

But he doesn't say them.

He realizes he doesn't have to. He's never had to say them with Jim. Never. Even when he sticks his foot in his mouth.

Jimmy innocently opens his arms, his eyes so full of trust that it seems to have wiped the slate clean between them.

He can't wait to tell him where they're going. He can just imagine Jimmy's eyes lighting up at the sight of the park.

"Come here, kid," he whispers hoarsely, and wraps his arms around him. It's a snug fit. Jimmy presses against his chest, and he returns the embrace, holding him as if he'll disappear before his eyes. "Let's go have some fun."

oOo

At the crack of the bat, Harris's wife gasps beside him. She jumps to her feet as cheers from the crowd begin, and so does he.

The ball arches in the air and travels beyond the fence of one of Yorktown's athletic fields. He grins. Make no mistake, Katie Harris, his fourteen-year-old daughter, has just hit her first homerun.

"She did it. She hit a homerun, Lukin," Leesa cries. She cups her mouth and shouts, "Go, Katie!"

Pride wells in his chest, as well as relief that he'd chosen this game to attend, carving a few hours out of his day. The first he's had with his own family in days. "It's all that extra practice."

Leesa's eyes follow their daughter as she rounds the bases. "She has the natural talent for it, just like her father."

"Don't know about that." He'd barely made the team as a junior.

At home base, his daughter beams at him. He gives her a thumbs-up sign.

"You're too modest, Lukin, as always. We have to celebrate later after we pick up the boys." Leesa glances sideways at him. "You do have the rest of the day off, right?"

Harris's smile falters. "Not exactly."

The cheering dying down around them, Leesa sits back down on the bleachers without a word. Harris fights a sigh. He sits beside her. It's clear she's angry when she refuses to look at him.

He takes her hand. "It won't always be like this."

It's just that he has one important little boy to worry about. Dare he say the most important person on the Yorktown? And with nothing coming from the lead Captain Nemeer's crewman had given him, he's back at square one. The Admiralty had cautioned him to tread carefully with the investigation, but it isn't in his nature to sweep a murder under the rug like that. But Archer's private message to him confirmed that he wasn't sweeping it under the rug, either.

Not only that, but Whitcliffe had denied him access to any other contract that Captain Kirk had signed—if he had signed more than one. Whitcliffe wouldn't tell him that, either, refusing to confirm or deny his suspicions.

At least on this query he was getting some help. From the President of the Federation herself.

She'd acknowledged today that she's no longer going to put on blinders, but will do her best to aid them—as long as Winona Kirk is not in the picture. She had made it clear that since Winona has proven herself as a respectable and capable officer in Starfleet, even if she no longer has a part in her adult's son's life, there may be little she can actually do to help their case if the boy is placed in her care.

Winona is the widow of a hero in the public's eye and the mother of another, greater hero, James T. Kirk. Of course the president is concerned about revealing the complete truth about the Kirks and creating an utter scandal. A scandal the Federation wants to avoid at all costs.

But he won't quit insisting that he be given access to more files—

"Lukin!" Leesa says, interrupting his thoughts. "Are you even listening?"

He grimaces. "Sorry."

She crosses her arms. "Maybe you should go now, so you're back to tuck the boys in at bedtime."

"I'll be back late either way," he says frankly.

"Please, tonight…" she implores, her eyes hopeful.

"I'll tr—" He stops speaking, drawn to the movement he sees from the corner of his eye.

"What?" Leesa asks, turning her head and following his gaze. "What is it?"

He checks his chronometer. They are right on time. "I'll be right back."

He stands to leave, but Leesa grasps his wrist, holding him in place. "What is it now?"

"The Enterprise crew," he says carefully.

Her brow quirks. "Oh?"

"They have…" He stops before he says Jimmy's name. Archer had not divulged any detail of this to his wife the other day, only the nature of his rank. "...been too busy to return my comms as of late. I'll try to talk to them now. I planned on speaking to them tonight, which is why I'll be late getting home."

She smiles tightly. "Fine."

"Sweetheart…"

"Go," she says, turning back to the game. "I'll watch our daughter's game, like I usually do."

He sighs, wondering with every step he takes away from her if anything between them has really changed at all.

He reaches Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy before they turn onto the walkway leading up to the park. They walk slowly, with Jimmy sandwiched between them, walking also, so it isn't difficult to catch up to them.

"Commodore," Spock acknowledges.

"Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy."

"Thank you for arranging this outing up for him," McCoy says. "He's been chattering about it nonstop since we told him."

"It was my pleasure." He smiles down at Jimmy, who is looking up in awe at the twist of high buildings and hoverrails above him. "Looks like it might be hard to get this little guy to pay attention to anything else, though."

McCoy ruffles Jimmy's hair. "We have all the time in the world, isn't that right, Jimmy?"

The boy nods, his gaze still not breaking away from his new surroundings.

McCoy chuckles. "He's been tripping on his feet the whole time we've been walking."

Spock suddenly scoops the child captain into his arms, naturally, like he's done so every day. "Please excuse us. We will be...swinging," he says swiftly and walks towards the park.

Harris stares after him. "'We will be swinging?' Is that Vulcan vernacular for 'hurry up?" he asks after a moment.

McCoy snorts. "Subtle, isn't he?"

"I'm surprised he didn't remain in the lab."

McCoy grows quiet. "He couldn't go back to the lab when he saw how much happier Jimmy was with both of us around."

"Will you continue working at all?" he asks, treading carefully on what could be a sore subject for the doctor.

"I won't be, but Spock will," McCoy says, scowling. "I'll only do whatever I can manage to do in Jimmy's room without too much disruption to his routine. I'll begin a more extensive test on his brain activity tomorrow, but that's all for now. I don't want anything in that room reminding him that we're worried about him."

"Has he had another emotional outburst?"

"No," McCoy says, looking relieved. "We're doing all that we can to prevent one. We're certain that Spock's touch telepathy will stop an incident, like the one he had before, before it causes Jimmy to regress again."

"Another reason why he came along?"

McCoy nods. "Would have asked him to come along, anyway. Let me tell you, a pouting Vulcan is no picnic."

Harris smiles. "I hope you have a nice time. I should return to my daughter's game. If there is anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Commodore."

They part ways, and Harris walks back to the game, relieved their conversation had been short and he can please his wife with the surprise of his swift return. He wishes he'd thought to bring his sons to the park, to play with Jimmy, before chaining himself to his desk again.

He climbs the bleachers, frowning when he doesn't see his wife. He looks around, starting with left-field first since his daughter's team were the visitors. Her strawberry blonde hair doesn't pop out at him, so he turns his head to look at the opposite side of the field.

"You're back," Leesa says, startling him from behind.

She's holding —and eating—a hot dog.

He looks at her, confused. "Since when do you eat those?"

She's turned up her nose at them ever since he's known her.

"Trying a new experience never hurt anyone," she says brightly, slipping past him to her seat. "Besides, I worked up an appetite at the gym."

She sits, oblivious to the bit of ketchup on the corner of her mouth.

He patiently takes her napkin and wipes the ketchup away, smiling to himself when she blushes. Rarely does he ever catch her off guard.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"No problem." The scent of a freshly grilled hot dog overwhelms him. "That smells good. Maybe I should buy one."

She shrugs. "It's only the fourth inning. You have time. Someone told me the hot dogs over there were better than the ones you buy at the stand. It's not far from left field."

He looks over her shoulder and finds the vending cart almost immediately.

Indeed, the hot dog cart is not far from the baseball field—and even closer to where he'd just been talking with McCoy, its view obstructed by a tree.

oOo

Jimmy and Demora swing side-by-side, looking like perfect companions against the backdrop of a beautiful park. Leonard can't put his finger on why, but watching Jimmy play like this, with someone much closer to his young age, sends a warm feeling through his gut.

"I think this is going pretty well," Leonard says, pushing Jimmy again.

They've been here for nearly an hour. No one has fought. No one's fallen off a swing or stubbed a toe. It is a smooth operation. He can say, with confidence, that he likes this idea of "play dates" and wants to have another with the Sulus as soon as they can.

Ben nods. "You're a natural at this."

"Pushing a swing?" Leonard says jokingly. "Takes a lotta skill, you know."

"Being a father," Ben says softly.

He misses the next push, his heart also skipping a beat.

A father.

That is one thing he'd never imagined he'd be to Jim in his entire life. Especially since he's wanted something more with Jim for so long.

A life with Jim, filled with romantic love has now become a distant, and dying, hope.

"That is what you are to him now," Ben continues. "You can see it in the way he looks at you."

He grows quiet at Ben's words, strangely soothed by his observation. Watching Jim so happy and young and free as a small boy, is doing something for his heart that nothing has ever done for it before. He wants Jim back, as an adult, but what if it never happens? What if Winona doesn't want Jimmy even if given the chance and then he could take him?

What if he could give Jim the happy childhood he never had? What if that is the reason all of this even happened?

If he has to choose, between his own happiness and Jim's, he'd choose Jim's in a heartbeat.

"And what about Mr. Spock?" he asks roughly. Of the two of them, he thinks the commander would be the best choice to fill that role. Someone who is logical. Strong. Dependable.

Not him. Not a man who acts mostly with his heart, especially when it comes to Jim.

Spock watches all four of them not ten yards away, probably hearing everything they said. Nothing got past the first officer. Especially now.

He has a sneaking suspicion that Spock isn't telling him everything about the case, but is holding something close to his chest. Most likely to help him as he transitions into the role as Jimmy's caretaker.

"Protector," Hikaru says, coming up to his husband. He quirks a brow. "Of both of you."

He wants to deny that, but it's partially true. Spock made sure he actually survived in the lab. He's standing aside with a stony expression, just daring anyone to cross them. No wonder the other children scattered to the other side of the park.

"I'm thirsty, Daddy!" Demora calls out, her legs pumping up and down.

"Me, too," Jimmy chimes in a small voice.

"Okay," Ben says, and helps her to slow down the swing. "We have water over by the bench for both of you."

Leonard grabs Jimmy at the waist and pulls him off the swing, his arms enveloping him. Jimmy squirms as he, too, wraps his small arms around him, but his arms fall short and clings, instead, to the fabric stretching across his broad shoulders.

"I like her," Jimmy whispers in his ear.

Leonard smiles and slows his stride. "I think she likes you, too."

"She tweats me like I'm big!"

"Well, you are," Leonard says. "Did you see how high you were getting?"

"Uh-huh," Jimmy says, pulling away from him a little to reveal a brilliant smile. "I was up to the sky! Can we do it again?" he adds enthusiastically.

"Sure, kiddo." Leonard sets him down beside the bench.

Jimmy scrambles onto the bench to where his bunny is already sitting, right beside Demora.

"Here you go, Jimmy," Hikaru gives him a bottle of water.

"Thank you," Jimmy breathes. With a look of determination on his face, he twists the cap off.

"I like your Bunny," Demora says.

Jimmy gulps down the water, choking when he tries to speak at the same time.

Water dribbles down the boy's chin and onto his shirt.

"Easy, now," Leonard says softly. He kneels on the grass by the bench and takes hold of the bottle, guiding it away from him.

Jimmy's eyes widen, his body pressing against the back of the bench.

A lump grows in his throat the size of Yorktown. Jesus, the kid thinks he's going to be beaten for this.

"You're not in trouble," he manages, squeezing Jimmy's knee. "I just don't want you to choke on your first day out."

Jimmy nods, but his expression is wary.

Leonard smiles encouragingly at him, despite the irrational fear that Jimmy believes he will strike him for this small mistake. He brings the bottle up to Jimmy's mouth. "Drink slowly," he cautions.

With a tentative smile, Jimmy obeys, and when he's done, remembers to replace the cap.

He takes the water bottle from him, and stands back when it looks like the two children want to talk.

Jimmy hugs his bunny, his legs swinging beneath him.

"Can I touch him?" Demora asks sweetly. She folds her hands and looks down at the toy on Jimmy's lap.

"Uh-huh," Jimmy says.

He places it between them, fixing the bunny's ears so that they stick up. It's a strange sight for a bunny whose long, floppy ears look like they have no life in them.

Jimmy and Demora look at each other and break out into giggles.

"He looks silly," Demora says with another giggle. She strokes the bunny's head tenderly, a smile rising on her face. "He's so soft. Like my kitty."

Jimmy perks up. "You have a kitty?"

"I just got her. Her name is Buttercup!" Demora cocks her head, looking at the bunny thoughtfully. "Does your bunny have a name?"

Leonard stills. Maybe she can get it out of him. Even Christine is curious to know Jimmy's bunny's name.

Jimmy looks down at his hands. "It's a secwet."

"Oh!" Demora's eyes widen. "That's okay. I understand."

Jimmy peers at her through his lashes. "You do?"

"Uh-huh," she says, her head bobbing up and down. "I have secrets, too."

"Sorry, but we have to cut this a little shorter than we thought," Ben says suddenly. He looks up from his comm. "We have to leave in a few minutes. Supper time with grandma."

Jimmy's face falls instantly.

Demora's eyes fill with disappointment. "Do we have to, Daddy?"

"Demora," Hikaru warns quietly.

She sighs. "Okay, Daddy." She glances sideways at Jimmy. "Sorry, Jimmy."

He nods, looking even more crestfallen.

"You do have about ten more minutes, however," Hikaru adds. "Maybe Jimmy wants to look at the murals on the wall?'

Jimmy hesitates, then nods.

"Oh, good idea, Daddy!" She grabs Jimmy by the hand, tugging his thin body right off of the bench. "Let's go!"

"I'm going to go pway again, Dr. Coy," Jimmy says excitedly as Demora pulls him along.

"I'll be right behind ya, Buddy," Leonard assures him.

Demora skips ahead, Jimmy running to keep up with her. "I'll take care of him, Dr. McCoy," she calls over her shoulder. "Just leave it to me."

oOo

Jimmy hates to leave the park and his new friend, but his stomach has started to growl just like Demora's.

"Ready to go eat, buddy?" Dr. Coy asks, taking him by the hand.

"Uh-huh," he replies, but he isn't ready at all. He really liked the sandbox but didn't get much time to play in it.

"Bye, Jimmy!" Demora says, waving.

"Bye!" Jimmy echoes.

He stares after her, wishing he could go see her kitty. Mr. Sulu told him they could visit tomorrow after Demora has school. A whole day.

That's forever.

He sighs.

Dr. Coy hums. "I see that someone's a little tired. No wonder. You didn't stop once you stepped foot in the park. Up you go," he says, and lifts him into his arms.

Jimmy rests his head on the doctor's shoulder. He likes being here, where he can see everything.

"I see Spock up ahead by the building," Dr. Coy says. "I think he asked Miss Nyota if she'd like to join us."

"I like her," Jimmy confesses, feeling safe and warm in Dr. Coy's arms.

"Miss Nyota?"

"Demowa," he whispers, feeling sleepy. "She's pwetty."

Dr. Coy's chest rumbles with soft laughter. "She was very nice to you, buddy. I think you made a friend for life."

Jimmy closes his eyes, dreaming of the park and Buttercup. The next thing he knows, they're in a strange building with Mr. Spock.

Dr. Coy groans as he sets him down. "What do you weigh, kid?'

He giggles. "I'm not that bi—"

He suddenly stops, and his heart drops to the floor.

His arms are empty.

Empty.

His stomach flips. The park. They have to go back to the park. Or the murals. Or...or anywhere they'd walked. But how would he get there?

Eyes wide, he spins around in a panic.

Dr. Coy gently grabs his shoulders, stopping him. "Jimmy? Something wrong?"

He can't think of anything but the door. "Wh-where's the door?"

"The door?" Dr. Coy asks confusedly. "Jimmy, why—"

He spies a crowd, people coming and going.

He darts off. He runs as fast as he can, maybe faster than Demora.

People are in his way. He stops, tries to push through them, but he can't. Soon, he finds himself smashed between two Andorians who don't see him.

He's jostled about, like a wave in a storm. He can't breathe. He can't see. He's scared. He doesn't like being lost. He never has. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing himself to be somewhere far, far away with his mommy.

"Move!" Dr. Coy booms.

Jimmy looks up just as Dr. Coy shoves the aliens aside.

Dr. Coy looks angry. "Watch where you're going," he yells. "Didn't you see him there?"

The Andorians look angry, too, but Mr. Spock stands in their way.

Jimmy shivers, feeling small. Would they punish him for running off?

"Young Jim," Mr. Spock says, as the people back away from them. "Why did you run away?"

He shakes his head. They'll yell at him for sure if he tells them. He'd been careless. Stupid. That's why he always has bruises.

"Jimmy," Dr. Coy implores softly, crouching down to look at him. "We need you to tell us."

"We do not wish for you to be upset," Mr. Spock says.

Tears well up in his eyes.

Hot, ugly tears that he can't stop.

Dr. Coy presses a kiss on his forehead. "Tell me, Buddy. It'll be okay. I promise."

He collapses right into the doctor's arms. "N-no it w-won't," he sobs into his shoulder, crying with all his might.

It is too late.

"I fear he will regress again if this continues," Mr. Spock murmurs.

"Jimmy," Dr. Coy soothes. "We'll work it out. Whatever it is."

But the weight of what he's done is too much. He wants to disappear in the doctor's arms.

Forever.

His shoulders shake as he cries with all his might, soaking the doctor's shirt with his tears.

"Jimmy, buddy, I gotcha."

But he feels lost, scared, and completely alone. Something is missing.

The most important thing he has in the world.

Something he has all to himself.

"Young Jim, you must tell us."

And he does, while he clings to the doctor.

He wails it for the universe, not caring who hears him.

"I LOST BONES!"

And it's all.

His.

Fault.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please, review? :) I'd love to hear from you!