Author's Note: I'll admit I am starting this story sort of in an awkward way, but the purpose is more Jim realizing he is sick (this chapter) and getting better (the rest). Just to warn you, there will be a lot of language issues in these first few chapters. This is sort of a journey Jim and I are going to take together. I don't know where it'll end up yet. Hopefully for the best and we can beat this thing. Obviously, I don't own any of the characters.

Lieutenant Kevin Riley, didn't see Jim very often. He was often stuck down in engineering, but now lately, the Captain had been spending more time down with Lieutenant Commander Scott working on the warp drive. Kevin had more opportunities to catch up, more opportunities to notice the stark changes in his Captain.

After a couple weeks of watching Jim and Scott work, Kevin gathered up the nerve to go to his commander after Jim had left one evening. Scott brushed him off, but Kevin knew he couldn't just let this go. He'd seen something similar with his mom when he'd returned from…being away. It's had led to her death as he was too young to know what to do. This time, he was going to speak up. Since he wasn't being heard in engineering, he knew he'd just have to go straight to the source. Kevin knew it was going to be hard, but hopefully the Captain would see the light and get the help he needed.

Jim sat up straight and shook his head. "Kevin, you're wrong. I don't have a problem. It's not like it's a big deal. I mean, yeah of course it's not good for me, but it's not like I'm hurting anyone else."

"That's where you're wrong," Kevin sighed. "You are hurting other people, even if you don't see it. We're supposed to trust you, the crew looks up to you. I know Chekov and I still do. Well I used to, but" Kevin stalled.

"What is it Kevin, I gave you permission to speak freely." Jim snarled.

"I know Jim, it's just hard to believe I am saying this, but I used to look up to you, I thought you were so strong and smart. I thought nothing could touch you. I looked up to you on Taurus, You were a hero, I wanted to be just like you. Not anymore though. I can hardly stand to look at you and what you've become."Kevin snapped.

"Fuck you!" Jim roared. "Fuck you and fuck Chekov too! I am not here to be your damn idol or anything like that. Why can't I be human? I don't need you trailing along behind me like some damn lap dog or something, and I especially don't need your hero worshiping. Get out of here."

Kevin stood stock still in a state of shock, hard faced.

"I said, get the hell out of my quarters," Jim roughly shoved Kevin towards the hallway. Kevin stumbled back against the door, but managed to catch himself before falling. Jim stood in the doorway glaring at Kevin, daring him to retaliate.

"Screw you, Captain," Kevin sneered and stormed out.

After the door closed, Jim felt the rage still coursing through his veins. Needing to release some energy, and not thinking clearly, he threw a punch at the bulkhead next to the door. It felt good so he threw another punch, then another. After a few minutes of attacking his walls, he suddenly thought of something.

Storming over to his desk, Jim took the picture of himself and Kevin from his desk and took it back to the couch. It was taken during orientation week his junior year. Juniors and seniors could volunteer to help a new plebe adjust to academy life and he'd been assigned Kevin by some random chance of irony or something. The picture showed Jim, and Kevin both young, and full of life, not like their first meeting, nothing like now.

Without a second thought, Jim started cutting the picture up into tiny little pieces. After a while, there was a pile of tiny bits of photograph paper at his feet, but his hands couldn't stop shaking. Before Jim realized what he was doing, he'd started cutting and stabbing at the cushion next to his thigh. The silence was roaring in his ears but he could faintly hear Kevin through it all, 'I wanted to be just like you. We trusted you.'

The scissors fell from Jim's fingers and slid to the floor with a soft thump. "Computer," Jim called out softly.

When it chimed in response, Jim opened his mouth and whispered with as much strength as he could muster, "Please alert Doctor McCoy to the Captain's quarters, and inform First Officer Spock that I am emotionally compromised and am releasing control of command to him until further notice." Jim closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around his frame. His fingers clenching at his sleeves, anything to stop the shaking.

McCoy chimed at Jim's door twice before using his medical over ride to get in. "Jim?"Looking around, he saw the messy state of Jim's quarters. "Jesus Jim," McCoy muttered, then noticed Jim on the couch, rocking himself with a distant look on his face.

Cautiously, McCoy pulled out his tricorder and made his way over to the couch. "What's wrong Jim?"

"Bones, I…" Jim's voice broke.

"What is it Jim?" All McCoy could see on his tricorder was elevated heartbeat and respiration. There was some chemical interference, and stress levels were spiking as well. All of this had McCoy very nervous.

"I need help," was all Jim offered.

"I'm here Jim, I'm here." McCoy didn't know what else to do so he pulled Jim into a tight hug, hoping that would help his friend relax.

A few minutes later McCoy's communicator pinged. "Doctor McCoy, are you currently with the Captain?"

"Yeah Spock," McCoy answered softly, as he looked down at his friend clinging to him like his life depended on it.

"I was just informed that the Captain has removed himself from duty due to being emotionally compromised," Spock explained.

"Jim, what's going on?" McCoy murmured.

"I wanted to confirm this statement with you and to determine the wellbeing of the Captain." Spock announced.

"I just got here Spock, I don't know what's going on, but yeah, Jim's in no shape to be in command." McCoy continued holding Jim as he spoke. "I need to get Jim down to sickbay. He isn't injured, from what I can tell, but he is sick."

"Alright Doctor, report to me as soon as you do know what is wrong with the Captain. Spock out."

McCoy sighed deeply, and looked down at Jim again. "Jim, can you walk to sickbay?"

Jim made no sign of recognition, but McCoy felt him relax a little bit. Carefully, he pulled Jim to his feet, and threw Jim's arm over his shoulders. Slowly, carefully, he led Jim one step at a time, to sickbay. They passed a few people in the hallways but a sharp look from the doctor set the gawkers back to their tasks at hand.

Jim and McCoy walked right past Chapel, into the private office. McCoy helped Jim into a chair, then sat down across from him.

"Jim, what is going on?" McCoy softly demanded.

"I need help," Jim whispered.

"I know, I'm here, "McCoy assured him, but then he stopped whispering. "Jim, either you tell me what that chemical was that my tricorder picked up in your bloodstream or I have the computer tell me. Trust me, I would rather hear it from you than get some bad news from the damn computer." McCoy demanded.

"It's phesphic acid, I've been taking it since Delta IV." Jim's voice shook and his chin was on his chest.

"Delta IV?" McCoy racked his brain, trying to remember the planet.

"The planet that had the flooding, we took them supplies," Jim offered weakly.

"Del…That was two years ago," McCoy exclaimed in shock, whipping out his tricorder, scanning Jim again. "You've been on Phesphic acid for two years? Good God man! Why? Why would you do this? Don't you know what that stuff can do to your body?"

"Not to mention to my career?" Jim snorted.

"Forget your career man! You've probably done serious damage to your brain. Open your mouth," McCoy ordered.

Jim closed his eyes before opening his mouth wide.

"Slight tongue discoloration," McCoy murmured. Without asking, he opened one of Jim's eyes and studied it with a pen light. "Pupil dilation."

"Can you help me get rid of this?" Jim asked, finding his voice again.

McCoy sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. There were medications that could help drug abusers, the formula was pretty standard. Of course, it being Jim, this wasn't going to be good. "There is a treatment, but bad news."

"I'm allergic?" Jim guessed.

"It's the same make up as a hangover or detox hypo," McCoy explained.

"So I'm screwed?" Jim stood up and moved to towards the door. "I should go write my resignation."

"Wait Jim," McCoy scrubbed his face with his hands. When did I get so tired, he thought to himself. "There's another option, an ancient option."

Jim turned back to his friend. "What is it?"

"You're going to have to detox without any help, just do it cold turkey."

"By myself?" Jim asked.

"Well no, I'll help you, every step of the way, Christine'll be there too." McCoy explained. "I can try to come up with some new compound, but you know I've had no luck so far."

"Okay, so a day or two of this natural detox and I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but highly doubtful," McCoy nodded Jim back to the chair.

"What are we looking at here, Bones?" Jim asked, taking his seat.

"I'd say a week to be on the safe side."

"A week," Jim exclaimed. "We're on our way to the Ronara peace talks. I can give you four days maximum."

"A week Jim," McCoy repeated himself. "Spock can handle the peace talks."

"Forget this," Jim muttered, getting up again. "I'll just fix this later."

"Jim," McCoy snapped. "Sit down. This is important, you can't put this off. I can't let you walk out that door and back into command knowing that you're on drugs. You can't put this off any longer."

"Yes, I can."

"Don't make me medically over ride you. I know I can get Spock to back me on this if I have to."

"I can do this on my own," Jim glared. "It's not that big of a deal."

"We don't have to do this in sick bay." McCoy ignored Jim's comment. He was already planning his next three moves, moving throughout sick bay gathering a few supplies.

"I hate you, you know that," Jim sneered.

"I'm sure," McCoy responded absent mindedly, throwing a few hypos in his bag along with a couple padds.

"Forget you," Jim called out, making his way to the door

"Jim, you can walk out that door right now, but there are only so many places you can go," McCoy looked up from his packing, at Jim. "Unless you let me take you back to your quarters, the only place you will end up is right back here, in confinement."

In a fit of defiance Jim strode over to one of the hover gurneys and flipped it over.

"Very mature Jim," McCoy rolled his eyes.

Keeping an eye on his friend to see what he would do, Jim back handed a whole tray of supplies, sending them clattering across the floor.

"What in the…" Chapel demanded walking out of the lab.

McCoy gave her a warning look to stay back. "Alright Jim, that's enough. I've got everything I need. Let's go."

"Fuck you," Jim spat.

McCoy held in the shock of the mood swing from the last thirty minutes. He knew he was in for a long week. He simply grabbed Jim firmly by the elbow and started to guide him back to his quarters.

"Don't touch me," Jim hissed, yanking his arm away from McCoy. "I thought I could trust you, I thought you'd just give me a little hypo or something and send me on my way."

"Fine Jim," McCoy stepped back and let Jim lead the way. He decided to take the time to let Spock know where they were going.

"Of course, you're telling Spock," Jim growled. "You'll probably tell everyone. Then everyone will know. Everyone will look at me the way you're looking at me. You hate my guts, admit it! You've always hated me! Ever since the day I was born, I've been nothing but an inconvenient reminder of everything you lost!"

"Jim, why don't you go change into something more comfortable," McCoy suggested, ignoring his friend's rant as he entered the code to Jim's quarters. "I will get you something to drink."

Jim didn't respond, but he did stalk off to his bedroom. If there had been a door to slam, McCoy was sure Jim would have done that. Instead at the last second, Jim turned and flipped McCoy the bird before moving out of sight.

"You're welcome Jim," McCoy muttered ran a hand through his hair as he wondered how they would all make it through the next few days.