Title: How To Save A Life
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A story of addiction and realizations.
Author's Note: I was listening to 'How To Save A Life' by the Fray and reading Star Trek fanfiction. It inspired me to write this and I stole the title. I struggled a bit with the end, but hopefully it turned out well. I also experimented with a slightly new style of writing for me. I don't know if it turned out good. This can be read as TOS or reboot really.

His quarters were warm. A comfort. But not enough. He knew what he needed. His body and mind cried out for it and he barely made it over to his dresser, dropping to his knees in front of it and digging through clothes to pull out the little bottle of nondescript pills.

His hands were shaking.

So close to ending his misery, to getting his fix. He shook out some of the rusty red pills and popped them in his mouth without thought. He swallowed them dry, letting out what was nearly a sob of relief when he felt them quickly going to work. He recapped the bottle and hid it again, movements once more controlled and even. His mind calmed, muscles relaxed as he slumped against the dresser.

Four men had died on the planet earlier that day. It was his fault. He should have been able to realize the atmosphere was hiding signs of life sooner. A fifth, one very precious to him, had almost been among the victims.

Sometimes the pills were the only things that kept him going.

Emotions under control, muted. Thoughts clear. Numbness. Logic.

It all equated to peace.

Another away mission gone astray. His fault again. The pills were his refuge. He managed to stumbled over to his dresser and retrieve his stash. He swallowed some quickly.

His dependence was getting progressively worse. He required more and more pills, more often. When he needed them, it was almost impossible to ignore the aching desire for the drugs. The symptoms of the need grew worse as well.

He kept taking the pills.

He needed them. The side effects were manageable. They were worth it.

On the bridge and whenever he was on duty, he acted normally. Cool and efficient. The pills kept him this way. No one had any idea of the pills hidden in his quarters. No one needed to know.

Not even his closest friend. The one he loved who would never return such feelings. Which is why they were kept locked away.

It was logical.

It hurt.

Emotions refused to be controlled. So long, he had relied on the pills.

Now he was almost out. He would have to resort to only one pill per day and wait two more days before the Enterprise would stop for supplies on a small trading planet.

He tried to work. Without nearly enough of the pills in his system, it was difficult. Finally, he broke down. He took one of his accumulated sick days. The CMO was concerned but he talked the man out of examining him.

He tried to meditate, keeping his quarters extra warm. He still found himself shaking and yet sweating. He felt jumpy and his head throbbed. He blocked out the pain to the best of his ability.

His Captain came to visit him later at the end of his shift. When he tried to come in, he locked his quarters and pleaded with him not to come in, claiming an infectious but overall harmless virus. The human didn't leave until he finally lost his temper and snarled at his friend to go.

He felt terrible afterwards.

He needed his pills.

As soon as the Enterprise landed, he found an excuse to beam down alone. His mind was so dazed and focused on getting what he needed, he barely registered anything. He didn't notice the lone blond human following him.

He met a seller of the goods he sought in an alley beside a shady bar. Not a place he would normally be.

These weren't normal circumstances.

Credits and goods were quickly exchanged. The seller seemed to see something and ran off. Turning, he saw why.

A beautiful blond man he knew well was storming toward him, looking furious and yet sad. Betrayed. His heart leapt and he clutched his nondescript bottle, shame welling in him. Then defensiveness. He needed these pills. Who was his captain to tell him how to run his personal affairs?

"Spock. What are you doing?" Jim asked desperately, grabbing his friend by the shoulders.

"Captain. How did you find me?" Spock asked shakily.

The blond ground his teeth and shook his head. He looked close to tears. "Fuck Spock. Call me Jim. I followed you. I've been worried. You haven't been yourself. And now I know why."

"You do not understand. Jim, I need these. You have no idea…"

"No. I don't want excuses. These are drugs Spock. Serious drugs."

Spock grew defensive. "They are an ancient Vulcan remedy," he hissed, anger growing. He couldn't control it. His emotions were whirling around, no longer dimmed by the pills.

Jim just shook his head. "Why Spock? Why? You're the strongest person I know. I thought you were the smartest too, but you're not if you are doing drugs," he argued though his voice remained soft. Almost broken.

"The pills are why I am strong. They keep my emotions in check. They dull them. I could not manage without," the Vulcan replied desperately, eyes wide. Jim's words had hurt. He needed his friend to understand.

"We both know that's bullshit. You can manage. You choose not to. You took the coward's way out," Jim said evenly though his voice rose a little at the end, staring at Spock with those piercing blue eyes.

Anger bubbled up in Spock. His emotions were a whirlwind. He felt everything and nothing. Pain, anger, sadness, desperation, hysteria, everything blurred together. He felt out of control. His breathing was rapid and he began pacing and shaking his head.

"Spock, I know how hard addictions are. I grew up with people who had them. But I can help," Jim tried again. "Let me in."

Suddenly, Spock snarled and whirled around. Gripping his captain around the throat, he thrust the weaker human up against the wall. "I never asked for your help!" he yelled. He sounded nothing like the First Officer Jim knew and loved. He sounded and looked alien.

"Then I have lost you as a friend and you have lost me. Come find me if you want to stop being a lowlife and fix things. Until then, you're on forced medical leave when we return to the ship," Jim said calmly.

Spock flexed his fingers warningly around Jim's throat before the realization of what he was doing hit him. With a choked sob, he let go and stumbled back.

"You know Spock, I loved you. I did. I never said or did anything because I was afraid. Now, I'm not sure if I really knew you. I'm not sure about how I feel," Jim said before he left Spock alone in that dark alley.

So now he was alone. The depth of it hit him. He was truly alone. He had just lost his best friend. And for what?

What had he become? He was more of a shame to his family than ever before. He had never thought he could sink lower.

He had.

He looked at the bottle of pills. His hands were shaking so bad he almost couldn't hold onto it. Emotions finally broke free from behind their fragile damn and spilled forth. With a cry of rage, he threw the bottle.

He hurt. So badly. He couldn't hold back the pain, so he let it wash over him.

Sinking down against a dirty wall, he put his head in his hands and began to sob.

He was bent over the toilet in his quarters, retching violently. There was nothing left in his stomach to vomit up after so many times, but that didn't stop it from trying.

Panting and sweating and shaking, he rested his forehead on the cool seat. He had only been detoxing for a day. Yet it felt like this torture would never end.

The doctor knew of his condition, but he had forbidden the human from entering his quarters. The doctor settled for monitoring his condition from sickbay. He also begged him not to tell the captain.

His stomach twisted and he began gagging again. His head was throbbing and his whole body quivered. He wanted to cry, to scream, to just curl up and fade away.

He wanted it to all stop.

When he found his could stand, he made it back to his bed and lay down. He couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep or eat since starting his detoxification. It was hell.

He had to push through.

Distantly through his haze of pain, he heard his doors open.

"Please. Do not enter," he choked out hoarsely.

It was the captain. Spock heard him use the override and walk in. He couldn't look up into that face he loved so much. Instead, he put his head back in the toilet and threw up more stomach bile.

An icy hand stroked his hair and down his neck. Normally Jim's hand would simply feel cool, but with Spock's feverish state it felt far too cold.

"Captain. I did not want you to see me like this. I am… not well," he whispered hoarsely. He didn't feel like he could call him Jim anymore. Not after what he had done to him and the way he had betrayed his closest friend.

The hand began rubbing his back through the black t-shirt he wore. "Shhh. Spock. You can call me Jim. Bones told me what you were doing. I couldn't let you suffer alone," Jim whispered.

Spock's reaction was to gag again and whimper.

"Come on. Up you go," Jim murmured, helping the Vulcan up to his feet. "Let's get you showered and try to get some food in you."

"No. Jim… It hurts," he croaked out.

"I know. But I'll take care of you."

And he did. Jim gently stripped Spock of his clothes and helped him in the shower, cleaning him while he shuddered under the warm water. One dried and clothed in a loose robe, Jim got him some Plomeek soup and slowly fed it to him and made him drink some water. Spock still felt terrible, but better. Especially emotionally, knowing that his friend had come back. He was not finished detoxing, but he would make it. And he would never succumb to the dark temptations again.

As Jim was tucking him into bed, he asked, "Why? I betrayed you Jim. I did a terrible thing. You tried to help and I ignored you. Why did you come help?"

"Because I realized how mean I was to you. You were weak and needed help and I gave up. And I love you Spock. I really do. When I found out you were trying to detox, I felt terrible. I had to come see you," Jim whispered, lying beside him and stroking his hair tenderly.

"I love you too Jim," Spock whispered before he managed to drift off for the first time in too long.