...I don't know what happened here, it was supposed to be a quick ending but then I wanted to be detailed.
I wanted to write the "treatment" parts as detailed and drawn out as possible to get the feeling with what Kirk is going through, as with most of this chapter he's facing his new found medical phobias, thanks to Reagan.

Anyway this is the last chapter, so I hope you enjoy this extended very angsty piece of writing.

Last time: Jim was used as a sex slave to get money from clients by Frank. They were found, and Jim was rescued.

Jim's eyes fluttered as his mind fought its way to consciousness, trudging through the flurry of drugs that inhibited his system.

He felt detached from the world, as if he was floating in a dream.

Voices echoed everywhere, and for a moment he couldn't pinpoint what they said, he didn't try to. But as he climbed further to consciousness, the world began to make a funny kind of sense.

A familiar voice boomed in his ear.

"Jim? You with me, darlin'?" the southern drawl was a comfort to Kirk.

Memories began to slowly resurface to the forefront of his mind.

"Frrr'nk?" Jim slurred, the entire room blurred and swishing around. He vaguely felt a hand on his arm.

"He's in the brig, Jim. You're on the Enterprise," the voice reassured him, "You're safe."

Jim sluggishly rolled his head to the side, the room tilting and blurring with him.

"Mmm'wasappen…" he tried to focus on something in the room, but his vision was just a mixture of mostly shades of white, and a few blues.

"It'll come back to you, Jim," the voice sounded a little hesitant, hiding something perhaps, "Are you in any pain?"

Jim stopped and turned his focus from the ceiling to whether he was in pain or not. He decided he didn't hurt, he was just kinda…floaty.

"Nooo," Kirk replied, beginning to get a little frustrated now at how out of touch he felt with the world. It was just a mess of colours and blurs.

Almost as if some unforeseen space god read his mind, he felt a sudden warm sensation spreading in his neck, before the world seemed to even itself out.

Eventually as objects in his vision pieced itself together, he noticed where he was.

Bones was hovering over him, as per usual, looking like he hadn't slept in days. There were dark rings under his eyes, a dark stubble forming, a scowl present that was so deep that it'd probably got stuck after being there for a week.

"B'nes…" Jim blinked slowly, the warm feeling spreading to his stomach when his friend smiled at him.

"Yeah, kid?"

Jim opened his mouth to ask what happened again, only to be answered by his own memories.

He took me.

Used me as a circus sex clown.

Fuck.

"B'nes…where's Frank?" Jim croaked, an urgent feeling niggling at the back of his mind, but something in him was stopping him from panicking.

Bones stopped hovering over him and sighed, taking his place on a stool beside Kirk and leaning onto the bed.

He turned towards Jim, "He's in the brig, Jim, like I said. They've got Reagan, too."

The cogs in Jim's brain took a while to finishing rotating, but slowly Jim nodded and took in the depth of his situation. He swore he felt himself sank deeper into the mattress.

McCoy's hand clasped around Jim's, "Listen, Jim," he paused and glanced down at the rest of Kirk's prone figure, shutting his eyes for a moment and taking another breath. "I need you to tell me everything you remember that Reagan did to you."

A knot formed in Jim's stomach as his horrid experience began to return to him. "Why…why Reagan?" he murmured, his speech beginning to sort itself out.

Bones squeezed his hand tighter, "Because according to Starfleet's records, he's an unlicensed surgeon that operates on people," he explained carefully, knowing Jim himself was a victim mere days ago, "And most of the time, these surgeries are just experiments."

Jim's eyes retreated back to staring at his blankets, fingers twitching as the memories engulfed him.

"I need to know everything he did to you, so that I can fix it. You understand?"

Bones felt the fingers in his hands grow more shaky, sweaty, as Jim began to work himself up with anxiety.
Gently, he rubbed a thumb across the fingers enclosed in his hand, hoping to encourage the words out of him.

"I think I was asleep," Jim whispered, his voice low and quivering, "I was acting all weird and happy…I mean I was a little anxious but…" he stopped there, pausing and considering how to phrase his words without bursting into tears like a kid.

McCoy didn't care if he cried though. It was a normal reaction, in fact, he would welcome any tears Jim would have to offer right now. "What happened after that?"

"Reagan pried my mouth open with gag," Jim swallowed hard, squeezing past the ball in his throat, "I remember him saying I couldn't be awake and that Frank was nuts or something, he put a mask over my nose and the next thing I know, I'm awake and everything hurts."

McCoy nodded, internally grateful that the man had even a slight bit more of human decency than Frank did. "Did he say anything about what he did?"

"Um…" Jim frowned, everything was quite a blur after this, "He said something about my knees, and Frank; he made me…" he stopped again, slamming his mouth shut and almost gagging.

McCoy knew what he was trying to say, and hating himself for understanding it, "I'm sorry, kid…" he murmured, releasing Jim's hand and running his fingers through the blonde hair, trying to provide an act of comfort through all the interrogating.

"Something about a chip," Jim remembered, gingerly pulling his arm up from his chest and weakly dragging it across his scalp, "He did something that made it hurt here a lot, but I don't remember…" the sentence was cut off again, this time by a quiet sob, "It just hurt…"

Heaving a sigh, Bones scooted his chair closer and pulled Jim into his embrace the best he could with the man lying on a biobed.

They sat there cuddling for about a minute, before finally McCoy broke away to inform him of the next steps.

"I've taken a look at your knees while you were out, I'm fairly sure I can—"

He froze.

"Wait a minute, your head?"

Jim sniffed and warily nodded, gazing up at McCoy's suddenly worried expression.

So, the frown wasn't permanently etched onto his face, then.

"Huh, let me look," he muttered, reaching behind Jim and sliding a hand over his back, "Lean forward a sec."

Kirk obliged, decisively wanting to do anything to rid of the pain in his head.

As Bones poked and prodded around the back of his skull, Jim occupied himself with his fingers, twisting them around until finally Bones jabbed a sore spot.

"Ow!" he yelped, swiping the hand away and scowling back at the startled doctor.

"Yeah, somethings wrong with your head then," McCoy declared, grabbing his tricorder from the side and running it over Jim's head, "But something's always been wrong with your head, you damned idiot."

Jim pouted, "It's from being around you, Bones, it's rubbing off on me," he snapped back. Bones offered a sly smirk before giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder.

"There is something lodged in that brain of yours, but I can't see what it is unless I get you in a better scanning machine," he informed Kirk, "The tricorder doesn't cut it."

Jim felt his hairs stand on end, "I don't wanna go inside a machine, Bones."

Bones only smiled. "I don't really need to. I know it's small and I know where it is. I just need to remove it."

Absorbing all this information, Jim nodded and tentatively started reclining his head back to the pillow, relieved when Bones let him as he didn't need to start prodding again.

"And as tempting as it is to just sew your mouth shut, I need to bring you in to the ship's dentist and remove whatever the fuck is over your teeth."

Jim glared, "That's a lot of surgery I need to go through."

Bones glared back at him, "And there's a lot of surgery that Frank already put you through. I can't leave you like this, Jim."

"So, I've just woken up from a traumatic kidnapping and used as Frank's sex slave for money, and you want to stick your fingers in my brain and let some stranger go drilling around in my mouth, as if that wasn't what just happened a week ago!"

Bones stood up out of his seat and grabbed a sedative, just in case, "Calm down, Jim. I'll make sure you meet with her beforehand," he sighed inwardly at the death glares Jim was giving him, "And if you'd prefer to never walk again and have every crewman in the vicinity to be staring at the coating on your teeth, that's fine by me."

Jim balled his fingers into a fist, "They'll get used to it. I can still command without having any surgery whatsoever."

Bones' eyes softened, "No, you can't, Jim."

That was it.

"You can't fucking dictate whether I can run my damn ship or not!" Jim shouted, nearly toppling sideways when he sat forward on his knees, "You're just pissed because I'm the reason why you have a shit load of paperwork to do!"

McCoy sighed, deciding to end this here and now. He gripped Jim's arm with one hand and attempted to fit a hypospray somewhere. Attempted.

"What, you're gonna sedate me because you can't think of a counterargument?" Jim's lips were trembling now, his face flushed red and ready to start sobbing, but the tears wouldn't come.

"No, I'm sedating you because you're stressed and upset," McCoy replied, trying again at grabbing Jim's arm, only to be shoved away at surprising strength.

"Get that shit away from me, Doctor McCoy."

Bones froze at the formal use of his rank and name, something that Kirk hardly ever did.

"Relax, Jim, I just want you to calm down, that's all."

Jim inhaled sharply, his fear of the situation instead portrayed with extreme anger, "I am relaxed! It's you who's the fucking prob—" Kirk all of a sudden sagged and slumped onto the bed.

But it wasn't because of a sedative.

"Jim?" McCoy tossed the hypo aside and stared up at his flashing red vitals. Everything but his temperature was plummeting. "Jim? Can you hear me?"
No reply.
"Dammit. Nurse! Get in here!" he shouted, darting to the wall and grabbing a bag valve mask.

Chapel stormed into the room seconds later, looking at the vitals before the door had retracted out of her sight, "What's happened?"

"No idea, he was talking, just suddenly dropped unconscious," he relayed, "He's not breathing." McCoy pressed the valve mask over Jim's mouth and nose, tipped his jaw up and started squeezing the bag.

"Are the resus pads on him already?" Chapel asked, having just pressed a hypo of cordrazine into the crook of Jim's arm and nothing happening. She made her way around the bed to the resuscitation machine.

"Yeah, just do it," he urged, staring at Chapel's every move, which just seemed too slow.

"Stand clear," the nurse announced, McCoy removing the mask. The only sound in the room was a building high-pitched wail ringing in the air, before there was a loud staticky boom and Kirk's body jolted on the bed.

When nothing happened, McCoy swore under his breath and continued delivering oxygen via the mask.

"Did Frank do anything to him that could have caused this?" Chapel asked, refilling another hypo of cordrazine.

"He said something about an implant, the tricorder showed something lodged into his brain," McCoy replied, paling at the sight of Jim's body, still squeezing on the bag.

"He's in the brig now, right? That's close enough to have a device to control the chip?"

McCoy suddenly glanced up in realisation, "Fuck. It's Frank," he ground out, realising that the man must have tried to kill him now that he'd been caught.

When another hypo of cordrazine went in futilely, Chapel scurried to the machine again, "Stand clear."

Again, McCoy stepped away from Jim, as another high-pitched wail resonated in the air, before Jim's body jerked and collapsed.

Like music to Bones' ears, the steady beep of a stable heartrate sounded from the monitors, signifying Jim was safe, for now.

"Thank god," Bones mumbled, placing the mask aside and letting out a sigh of relief, "We need to get him into surg—"

Then like a switch, the monitors sprung to life out of control, beeping and screaming for attention as Kirk's body suddenly jolted and thrashed on the bed.

"Seizure!" McCoy shouted, running back to the bed and pressing his hands over Jim's chest as best he could.

"Phenobarbital going in!" Chapel announced, pressing the hypo to Jim's straining neck.

After a few seconds passed and Jim's body didn't seem to be doing anything other than convulse, McCoy grit his teeth and gestured to his medkit that was lying half open under the bed, "Five milligrams of tricordrazine," he ordered, struggling against Jim's flailing limbs.

Quickly, Chapel darted into action and swiped the medkit from out under the bed, locating the medication and slotted it into the hypo.

As soon as it was administered in Jim's neck, the seizure tapered off until there were only muscle twitches and slight spasms.

"Christ," McCoy spat, gingerly releasing his hands from Jim's chest and relieved at the monitors settling into a normal rhythm. "Get Spock to take security into Frank's containment and search him, he's obviously trying to kill him from behind bars. I'm gonna take Jim into surgery."

Chapel nodded, "Yes sir," and left to retrieve her communicator.

Bones watched her leave, then sighed, pressing a button on the wall to request transport.

"You don't make anything easy, do ya kid?" he asked the unconscious blonde. He was breathing steady now, though his face had quickly gone from red to a scary shade of grey.

McCoy reached to Jim's fingers and squeezed his hand, hoping that even unconsciously, Jim would know that Bones always cared, and that Bones would always fix him.

Brig—Frank's cell.

Spock strode into the room like a man on a mission, followed by three serious-looking security guards. McCoy had told him what Frank had likely did to his Captain merely minutes ago, and was feeling the Vulcan equivalent of anger.

Not that he'd admit that, but it was clear on his face.

"Frank," Spock announced, stopping outside the older man's prison door, "Prepare to be searched."

As the door opened, the other man simply laughed and threw his hands up. "What's this, huh? An innocent old man still a threat to you even tucked away in this shit-hole?"

Spock narrowed his eyes dangerously, "You are not innocent, and you are not a threat to anyone on this ship. However, I am aware of your attempts to murder the Captain and I will remedy this."

Frank shrugged as the guards surrounded him, scanning him with a various assortment of devices and patting him down, "I assure you, Mister Spock, I can't do shit sitting in here. And I'm not capable of murder."

"He's clear, sir," one of the redshirts announced, looking up to Spock for instructions.

Spock however was not convinced.

"Search his cell. We will not leave until we find something."

"Aye sir," all three of them said, rallying off to all four corners of the small room and searching for anything that could be dangerous.

Frank watched them, scoffing, "Search all you want, you won't find anything but little old me in here," he sneered, then turning back to Spock, who looked as if he were about ready to commit murder himself.

After ten minutes of searching and Frank complaining, the guards made their way back to Spock, frowning, "There's nothing here sir," one man said.

"Absolutely nothing," said another, "We've searched every nook and cranny."

In the corner of his eye, Spock could see Frank smirking. It was logical that the man was hiding something.

"Frank," Spock stated the name loudly to get his attention, "The Captain went into cardiac arrest approximately twenty minutes ago, furthermore he suffered a seizure, both of which has been overcome. This was not by coincidence, especially as we are aware of the implant that you have put into his brain—"

"Oh, I didn't put the implant in his brain, Spock—"

"—Therefore, it is only logical to assume that you are controlling this implant and are causing the events. I advise you to be forthcoming with your confession and tell us where the controller is."

Frank raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to mock the Vulcan, not at all feeling threatened by him. "Nice, where'd you learn that sentence, does it work on all the men?"

Spock remained staring at him for a decent answer.

Frank sighed, "Why the hell you searching me for? Reagan was the guy who put the damn thing in his brain."

After a few more seconds of a staring competition, Spock turned to the redshirts and gestured to the door, "We will investigate Reagan's cell," he decided, "Lead the way, gentlemen."

As the four men left, Frank remained behind smirking at the one redshirt that kept their eye on him as the doors slid shut.

Brig—Reagan's cell.

Reagan on the other hand was staring contemplatively at the floor, sitting on his bed and wallowing in self-pity.

Why oh why did he agree to help Frank with this shitty plan? He only agreed to remove Jim's enamel for his experiment and that was it. But the damn psychopath dragged him into everything else, doing monstrous things to the innocent young man.

Stopping the man from walking again, putting a hideous-looking sealant over all his teeth which even the 20th century era made look more appealing, inserting an implant into his brain so that he was constantly drugged into being obedient, and so Frank could punish for misbehaviour.

Well, at least one of the latter was true.

Looking up, he heard footsteps approaching his cell. Three redshirts and the guy that had squeezed his shoulder into unconsciousness, somehow.

"Reagan." Spock greeted, knowing he was a little more humane than Frank was.

"Sir," he greeted back, wondering what the occasion was. Was it time for his trial already?

"Are you aware of the recent events transpiring around the Captain?"

Reagan blinked, "You mean Jim?"

"Affirmative."

"Well, I know what I did, you don't have to make me repeat it for a third time. Yes, I cut his ligaments, I put an implant in his brain, I ruined his teeth, what more do you want?" he moaned, "Be happy that I flogged out of the obedience part."

Spock shook his head, "No, I am referring to the incident twenty-three minutes ago, where the Captain had a seizure—" he stopped, his Vulcan brain telling him to repeat the last part of Reagan's sentence in his head. "Explain what you mean by, 'flogging out of the obedience part'."

Reagan swallowed hard. He hadn't told anyone about this, especially not Frank. He'd have probably been shot right there and then, or used for sexual appeal or—

"Reagan. Explain."

Reagan jolted, "Alright, I'll talk," he sighed, "Frank told me that the chip in his head should give him control over shocking him and actually making him obedient," he frowned, "But he also got me to stop him from ever walking again, he was in so much pain…he woke up half-way through, crying, I gave him a medicine to make him amnesic to the event."

Spock let out an irritated Vulcan-sigh, "Continue."

"Uh, well I felt bad. If he was obedient he'd just be a vegetable, I didn't want that, he's still so young and I only agreed to remove the enamel from his teeth for my own experiment. So, I made the shocking chip, and didn't alter his brain chemistry."

Spock frowned, "If you did not make him obedient, how was Frank unable to find out?"

Reagan smiled at that, "I gave him injections daily. I mean we were only there for two or three days, so it was hard to get caught. I mixed them into sedatives, mixed them into the anti-convulsant, and he was convulsing so much that I had loads of chances to get the drugs to him."

Spock nodded. This was admittedly good news. It would however explain the report of Jim's lucidity, likely from the lack of injections since being caught.

"The injections were the same ones used on him before Frank kidnapped him. They worked back then, but his body became so used to it that they just made him confused and sleepy. He wanted to help Frank, I think he adored him because of the injections, but because they were less-effective he wasn't as obedient. Frank hurt him a lot."

Spock nodded. This was information useful to relay back to the doctor. "I thank you for your confession, and your decision against altering the Captain's brain chemistry. The effects would have been…catastrophic."

Reagan nodded, "I'd keep an eye on his brain, though. He's had so many damn injections, he has a very high possibility of brain damage. I did warn him, I really did."

"I believe you, and I will inform the doctor. I am confident he can reverse any damage. However, I must get back to the issue at hand."

Reagan stood up, much to the surprise of the scattering redshirts, "Of course."

"The Captain went into cardiac arrest followed by a seizure due to the chip you have inserted in his brain. The implant is being remote controlled, and I must confiscate the item," Spock demanded, "We have already searched Frank's cell, there is nothing in his person that is suspicious or seems dangerous."

Reagan frowned, "He gave me this when we were being sorted into our cells," he admitted, walking to the side of his bed and picking up a remote device from the draw, "He was pressing it like crazy, said it didn't work then gave it to me."

Spock narrowed his eyes, "When approximately were you sorted into your cells?"

The prisoner shrugged, "About an hour ago."

Perhaps it was a delay. The wide distance between the cells and the Captain could have caused a delay, not to mention the interference beam upon entering the brig.

"You have been most helpful. I am grateful, although I still cannot comprehend the actions you took upon the Captain to injure him so," he remarked, taking the remote from Reagan.

Reagan slumped back onto the bed. "I didn't have a choice. He said if I didn't help him, he'd either have me killed or use me as a slave alongside Jim. I already took a big enough chance when I didn't alter his brain chemistry."

Spock nodded. He noticed that the man looked slightly older than Jim, perhaps Doctor McCoy's age.

Without another word, Spock and the security guards left, not looking back upon either of their prisoners as they left the brig.

Operating room.

"Bones…" Jim was wide awake on the table, having been woken up because according to McCoy, 'It's brain surgery, so unless you want to function remarkably close to a carrot, you need to stay awake.'

"Yeah?" Bones stopped pacing and stepped in front of Jim, having been waiting for the news from Spock that the implant controller had been taken from Frank. He had been staring at the implant itself for ten minutes before growing frustrated and pacing back and forth.

"Can…you please take off your mask…at least until you…carry on…" Jim breathed, still feeling a little pulled down by the anti-anxiety medications.

Bones frowned, but decided if it would make Jim feel at ease, he pulled it down under his chin. "Can't take it off, kid, but this is the best I can give ya."

Jim did his best to smile, "S'fine…better…" then quickly scowled again, "This is…cruel…"

Sighing, Bones sat down on the stool beside Jim's table. "And why's that?"

The blonde scoffed, "I don't wanna…be awake…for this…" which was true. Who would want to be awake while someone has their fingers inside your brain and you can't move.

"Like I said, I can sedate you until we can continue, but you'll be drowsy when you wake up."

"But I don't wanna be sedateeed!" Jim whined, his fingers rubbing along his chest in frustration.

Bones rubbed his gloved hands across his face, "I know Jim, but—" the door suddenly burst open, another scrubbed-in nurse walking in. "They've got it?"

"Yup," the nurse confirmed, "Apparently Frank went nuts on the controls and threw it in Reagan's cell in an attempt to frame him. We have labs running DNA tests on them."

McCoy let out a sigh of relief. Finally, Jim was relatively safe from being electrocuted again and they could continue.

"But sir, there's something else," she warned, "Reagan said that Frank asked him to use the implant to alter his brain chemistry.

McCoy nodded, already informed of this by Jim, "I know, the kid's told me."

"Reagan confessed that he implanted the chip to a wireless shock remote, which is what Spock has, but he never used it to change his brain chemistry. Said he felt too bad for the young man, bless him."

Jim glanced up upon hearing this. Reagan didn't alter his brain chemistry…? Then there wasn't any chance of him being severely brain damaged!

"However, he gave Kirk hidden injections to give Frank the illusion that he was obedient. Also mentioned that he was shocked a lot, so there's still a very high chance of brain damage, particularly between the parietal and occipital lobe, where the implant was lodged," she added, "I would map out any damage while you have him open."

McCoy nodded, not sure what to make of this. The damage would have been much more severe if his brain chemistry was slowly being altered, he supposed Jim was lucky.

"Thanks, uh, Nurse…?"

"Carter, sir. Nurse Carter," she smiled, "I wanted to offer to scrub in."

McCoy grinned, "You're the one Jim's gonna see tomorrow, huh?" at least she seemed nice enough to deal with Jim, "But yeah, you're not queasy or anything, are ya?" he joked, walking back over to Jim and offering the best smile he could considering the situation.

"Wouldn't have become a nurse if I was, sir," she retorted back, pulling her mask up and walking behind Jim.

McCoy noticed Jim's hands becoming more fidgety, probably from the anxiety of the impending doom that was looming over him.

"Jim, you're gonna be fine, I promise," he whispered, sitting down to reassure him before digging his hands in his brain, "The damage isn't as severe as we thought, so there's a good chance that we can get the damn implant out and get you to start recuperating straight away."

He shakily replied, "What about my legs?"

"Your legs too. I can replace the ligament in both your knees but you're going to need a lot of PT."

Jim scrunched his hands up into fists and brought them towards his chest, McCoy reaching over to grip onto his forearm to offer comfort. He was starting to hyperventilate, and the monitors overhead were proving it.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured, rubbing a thumb over Jim's trembling hand, "I'll just need you to do what I tell you to, so I know I'm in the right place. It won't take too long; we've already got it exposed; you do have a brain shockingly enough, and the implant is right in front of me."

Jim nodded solemnly, his heart racing in his chest, despite the reassurances.

"Sir? We need to start as soon as possible."

McCoy grunted under his breath and gave Jim one last reassuring smile before pulling his mask up and joining his staff.

"Give him 2mg of midazolam, I want to make sure he's as calm as safely possible," he murmured to the nurse next to him.

"Of course, sir," she replied, while McCoy got to work.

Twenty minutes later, and Jim was relatively calm. The surgery was going smoothly, as per usual for Bones, and they were very close to removing the implant.

"I'm gonna remove it now, Jim, alright?" he warned him, retrieving a pair of tweezers and waiting for the reply.

There was a very slurred "yeeeah" from below him, so Bones took it as the affirmative and continued.

Jim frowned when the room was silent after thirty seconds. Bones usually mumbled nonsense to him the whole way through, to give him something to concentrate on.

"Bones?"

A sigh, and a clang, "It's out, kid."

Jim himself took a moment to himself to relax. Now there could be no more shocks, no more seizures, no more hurting…

"I do need to check for damage, so uh, jus' bear with me for a little while longer, okay?" Bones' voice was thick deep in his southern drawl, extremely concentrated on something, whatever it was.

Jim shrugged it off, happy that he was finally free of that implant.

"You doin' okay?"

"Uh-huh…"

Jim heard some quiet murmurs behind him, beginning to get increasingly concerned.

"Raise your right hand for me, Jim."

Frowning, Jim struggled, through what he supposed was the drugs, but was able to sluggishly move it past the white sheets and in the air.

"Good." It was back to silence after that.

Then two minutes later…

"What'd you want from the replicator tonight, Jim?"

If he wasn't in such a horrible situation, Jim would have laughed at the out-of-place question.

"Mmm…m'dnno…"

"What's that?"

He made a "I dunno" humming noise at the back of his throat and left it at that.

"I need your words, Jim." The man sounded impatient. Jeez.

"Said…dunno…maybe…ugh…"

"You want a hamburger?"

Jim's eyes lit up, "You…let me?"

"Yep. You weigh less than a twig, so damn it all I'll give you hamburgers if it means you'll eat."

Jim lightly chuckled to himself, then sighed. He was exhausted.

"Left arm?"

Jim blinked, "Wha'?"

"Raise your left arm."

Scowling, Jim obeyed. The doctor could be a bit kinder to him. He was awake for his own surgery and he couldn't see anyone at all. They were all behind him, in his head.

Just as that thought came to mind, another doctor appeared in his line of vision, walked to the feet of his bed and pulled the sheet up above his ankles.

"Wha'you doing…" Jim slurred, his eyes beginning to flutter. Vaguely, he began to hear a pulsating beep from behind him, followed by voices calling for his name, but he welcomed darkness as it came.

"Jim."

….

"Jim."

….

"Jim, I know you're in there."

Kirk moaned. Had he fallen asleep? He was still exhausted.

"Just do one thing for me, wiggle your toes."

He moaned again. Screw off and let me sleep.

"Jim." The voice was not kidding this time.

"F'ne" he mumbled, wiggling his toes with ease.

"Good. We're gonna close up now and move onto your legs, so you can go to sleep, alright?"

Jim grunted. He was already asleep, no thanks to them.

"You did good, Jim. Real good."

Another grunt.

He waited for another voice to ask something of him, but instead he felt something warm enter his right arm. Then he was sleeping again.

Medbay.

The next grace to wakefulness wasn't so peaceful, as this time he was abruptly awoken by a blinding white light piercing one of his eyes.

"Nnnngh…!" Jim moaned, attempted to swipe his hand at the intrusion.

"There he is," a voice echoed, the light disappearing from his left eye and reappearing in his right, "Open your eyes for me."

Jim grunted. Didn't this happen five minutes ago?

"Get out o'my eye" he slurred, refusing to open his left one.

A sigh, "C'mon, Jim, I've let you sleep for the past six hours."

Or not.

Slowly, he cracked his left eye open, being rewarded with the piercing light disappearing from his right. Bones faded into view above him, except he was out of his surgical scrubs and was back in whites.

"We're all done," the man remarked, "It went fine, like I told you it would," he said proudly.

Jim groaned, "Don't y'wan' me t' wigg' my toes?"

Bones smiled, "Nope, I already got you to do that four hours ago."

"But…I don't remember it."

"Because you were really drugged to hell and in a shit load of pain, but like the great surgeon I am, you're right as rain now and are doped up on even more drugs than the entire medicine cabinet combined," then he paused, "Well, not that drugged, but—"

"Wha' 'bout…legs?" Jim was generally concerned about his legs. Did they fix them? Will he walk again?

Bones leaned in closer and yanked Jim's gown back, probably looking at his legs.

"Yeah, they're still there," he teased with a smirk.

Jim moaned loudly, "Boooones!"

"They're absolutely fine, Jim," Bones sighed, "I've regrown the ligaments and your body isn't rejecting them so far. You'll need PT starting from tomorrow after your…yeah."

Jim didn't even want to think about tomorrow entailed, so he settled for twisting his neck to face him properly and forcing a weak smile, "Thanks, Bones…"

Bones offered a genuine warm smile, "You're welcome, kid. Told you I'd fix you up. Ya even have a brain, wouldn't have believed it if I didn't witness it myself."

Jim frowned and gave a weak shove before addressing his next concern, "How much…damage…"

"There was a very high chance of damage, and there is some, Jim," McCoy softly told him, to Jim's shock.

Oh god, does this mean he can't command? How can he run a ship with brain damage!

"But," the doctor interjected at seeing Jim's rise to panic, "As you can tell, it's not severe, and it's not limiting. I can treat it over a course of around three months maybe more. You won't be able to command until then."

Jim blinked up at him hopefully… "It's…it's not too...bad?"

Bones shook his head, "No, it's not too severe. All the seizures that Frank forced on you caused slight damage in your occipital lobe. You might have problems with your vision, or processing visual information with the world, so to say. Which is why I can't let you command until I've treated it."

Jim nodded, but was confused. He could see fine, he could see Bones in front of him, he could see where he was…

"But...I can see everything…fine…"

Bones smiled, "That's good. I said it might affect you. But either way, it has to be written up and if Starfleet finds I let you back, regardless of whether you think you're fine, they'll get us both sacked, and I don't want to lose you, Jim."

Jim swallowed hard at this, more so for Bones' gesture of affection than the idea of losing the Enterprise, although that was scary too.

"Three months?" he asked.

"Three months."

"I guess…that's better than a lifetime…"

"It sure is. You're lucky all things considering," Bones shifted and grasped hold of his arm, though Jim was too tired to see what he was doing.

Jim smiled, "Mmm…r'ly lucky…" his eyelids starting fluttering, and he silently cursed Bones and his sedatives as he drifted off to sleep.

"…..'he eaten?"

"No, the idiot hasn't bothered to wake up since last night."

"Maybe he should eat before I take him in?"

"Nah, I'm concerned he'll throw it up if he has a hissy fit. Better to feed him afterwards."

Jim groaned as the haze of sedatives began to wear off.

"Ah, he awakens."

Kirk half expected to find Spock upon opening his eyes after that sentence, but he only found Bones and a familiar woman that he didn't even know the name of. The room was moving too. Fast.

Jim bent his head back to stare at the ceiling, giggling to himself as the lights sped by, confusing his mind as he tried to digest the information.

"You got him on the good stuff?" the woman joked, who was on the end of his moving bed.

"Hell yeah, he's drugged on every anxiety medication he's not allergic to. Should be wearing off soon though, the last shot I gave him was at 0600 hours." Bones was beside him, scanning him as they moved, as usual.

"Did you sit with him all night?" the nurse laughed, seemingly having good banter with Bones.

"'Course I did, just making sure he doesn't have any complications after those two major surgeries," his friend bit back.

Two opposite doors slid open, and Jim was wheeled into a room with a smell that brought back bad memories.

"Jim?" the bed halted, and McCoy appeared to the left of his vision, "This is Nurse Carter, she's gonna fix the absolute mess that your mouth is in," he gestured to the nurse at the end of the bed, who looked up and smiled.

Jim frowned, "…M'member you…"

Carter walked beside him, next to McCoy, "Yep, I was helping with your surgery yesterday. I wanted to oversee a major op, rather than just working with the big holes in people's mouths," she laughed, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Jim flinched away. "Don't want this…" the last time he came face to face in a dental op, it was with Reagan, and that caused excruciating pain for four hours.

"C'mon, how'd you think anyone's gonna flirt with you if your mouth looks like that?" McCoy joked, "You look like someone who's been sprayed in the face with car sealant from the 20th century."

It was true, his entire mouth was pretty much coated with a weird white material that made his bite soft, but his teeth looked a mess.

"M'guess I'll have to live with it," Jim shut his eyes, trying to calm the quelling nausea in his stomach. The next thing he knew, McCoy was running a hand through his hair, trying to comfort him, not saying a word. He was doing that a lot lately.

"I know you're scared," Bones finally whispered, "But with the condition your mouth is in, you won't be able to eat again."

Jim shook his head, inching McCoy's hand out of his hair, "I don't want it…" memories of last week played in his mind. Being strapped down to the chair, a gag forcing his mouth open uncomfortably wide, sitting there for four hours while Reagan was drilling into his teeth, screaming and crying and begging them to stop while Reagan completely ignored him, as if it was normal.

And now they wanted to put him in the chair again, stick those drills in his mouth, to fix the mess Reagan made. No way…

"I promise, Jim," McCoy squeezed his hand, "After this, all you'll need to do is recover. You can have that hamburger I promised."

Jim's arms were trembling, but McCoy's thoughts were playing on his mind.

Carter was someone that McCoy trusted, but then again, Frank was someone McCoy trusted and look how that went.

"Please, Jim," Bones begged him, "Just do it for me."

At that, Jim caved in and nodded warily, sitting up but paused as a question came into his mind.

"Is…is Carter's name on the Starfleet register?"

Instantly, Carter, who Jim didn't even realise was watching him, stepped over to Jim with her PADD in hand.

"Of course, sweetheart. This is Starfleet's medical register, and this is me. I'm a certified dental nurse, and look, here's McCoy, see?" she scrolled down to McCoy's name and CMO rank, letting Jim know that she was in the same band of medical staff as McCoy. And McCoy was her boss.

McCoy nodded to him, giving a subtle hint of approval.

"M'kay," Jim mumbled, "But Bones if this happens again, I will actually sack you this time." Jim said the sentence with more anger and harshness than he had intended.

McCoy's face paled for a second, thinking Jim was serious, before noticing the quick change of expression and forcing a laugh.

"Alright kid, but you won't need to," then he paused, "Would it help if I stayed with you?"

At that, Jim rapidly shook his head in distaste, "No, no way. I don't want anyone to see."

Bones chose not to point out sarcastically that the nurses in the room could see. Instead, he gently grasped Jim's wrist. "You can't walk yet, obviously, so we're just gonna shuffle you onto the chair," he offered, his hands flailing when Jim effortlessly shuffled himself onto the chair without help.

Obviously, he was beginning to get his "I'm James T Kirk and I don't need help from anyone because I'm strong and powerful" mojo back.

"Alright, smartass," McCoy smirked, as Jim began to realise again what was about to happen as he settled in the chair. It wasn't reclined yet, which probably was the saving grace for why he hadn't immediately burst into a panic attack. His psychiatry degree days told him to wait until he was accepting of the situation before reclining him flat.

Someone entered the room at that moment, another nurse.

"Oh, Jim, this is my assistant, nurse Cessa." Carter announced to him, as Cessa moved around to take her seat beside Carter.

"Hi," Jim said almost in a whisper, his knuckles going white as he gripped the armrests too firmly.

"Heya Jim," Cessa greeted, perking up when realising it was the Captain. He'd never been in for an appointment before, probably because it wasn't mandatory.

As Cessa began to attach a bib around Jim's neck, the blonde shot his head to McCoy, "You can leave now." He didn't want anyone to watch what was likely to be a weak moment.

Tentatively, McCoy nodded, backing his way out very slowly. He knew that Jim wasn't ready to be in there on his own, there was just no way. What he had experienced last week was traumatic, and going through it again was surely to set off another panic attack.

But Jim's pride overtook his self-preservation, as usual, and the only thing he could do was help out in medbay until the obvious call came in asking for him to return because Jim threw a tray across the room or something.

Sighing, he allowed the door to shut and left.

"Alright, Jim," Carter wheeled closer and gave him what looked like sunglasses, "Just pop these on for me and we'll lower you back, since it'll be kinda difficult doing it sitting up," she smirked, giving a gentle pat on the shoulder and wheeling off sideways.

She was informed by McCoy about what happened and had pretty much been ordered to treat him as a severely nervous patient. Which was fine, as that was her speciality back on Earth.

Jim slid them on with difficulty, his arms still trembling and his breaths getting more rapid. One side of his mind told him to stop being such a pitiful child and just get on with it, and the other side of him replayed the many memories of last week as an excuse to get up and run for his life.

"Will this take long?" he croaked, chastising himself internally for how weak he sounded.

I'm a Captain first and foremost. Set an example. He tried to encourage himself.

"Perhaps an hour, maybe two. I'll do it as quickly as safely possible."

Jim merely nodded, unable to speak at this point.

Just do this, Jim. Do it for Bones. You're not like this, you're stronger than this.

"Okay, gonna lie you back now alright? Then I'll give you a minute to adjust."

Again, Jim nodded, reassuring himself in his head that this was very little compared to what he'd been through before.

Get through this to fuck over Frank. Fuck Frank. Fuck—Oh god the chair is moving, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god—

"You okay?" Cessa asked when Jim was flat on his back. She noticed the trembling arms and glanced warily to Carter.

"I'm fine," Jim lied, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to look in control.

So, Carter wheeled over with a contraption in her hand. Jim's heart raced as he remembered something similar being forced into his mouth to keep it pried open last week.

"Now, this is a jaw retractor," she explained, making sure Jim was well informed, "Because you're going to have your jaw open for a long time, it will start to ache, and you'll struggle to keep it open. This is just going to keep it open for you, okay?"

Jim swallowed hard, "So, uh, you're essentially forcing my mouth open." He'd seen this before. With Reagan.

Carter simply smiled gently despite the rude tone, "You might not feel in control of your jaw if this is holding it open for you, that's true. But if you want me to stop at any time, just raise your hand and I'll give you a break."

Jim gazed at the kindness on her face, so much different to the snarky smirks smeared over his captive's face's last week.

I'm totally going to banish dentistry from being practiced once I get my command back.

Squeezing the armrests harder, Jim nodded his acceptance.

"Okay. Now what's gonna happen is, I'm gonna go ahead and put this in your mouth, then I'll give a couple of injections numb it all up, there will be no pain," she explained carefully, "Then you'll just have to lie there bored for an hour while I fix everything, and we'll be done."

Jim was extremely grateful for the explanation. What completely softened the blow though was the fact there would be no pain.

"Okay" he mumbled quietly, knowing he had just agreed to what was likely his doom.

"Alright sweetheart, now I'm gonna pop this in your mouth, so open up for me…"

Clenching onto the armrests like they were his lifeline, he gingerly obeyed her, allowing the nurse to slot it inside.

Just do it. Do it. Do it. You're a Captain, you can do this. Do it for Bones, think about Bones, think about Spock, just do it, just do it…

"There you go," Carter replied, her smile reaching her eyes, "You doing okay?"

Jim was almost wheezing breaths, but nodded over-enthusiastically. He began to feel the tears start to well in his eyes. He was terrified, and no amount of self-reassurance was going to distract him from that.

Slowly, the assistant, Cessa, wheeled beside him with a tool in her hand, Jim hadn't seen Reagan use it before.

Carter picked up something from the—oh god it was a hypo.

"Just gonna numb you up, alright?"

Jim nodded, his breaths coming in shuddering gasps that he tried to hide. When Carter leaned over, Jim squeezed his eyes shut and dug his nails into the armrests.

There was a pinch. And that was it.

"All done."

Jim opened his eyes.

"Am ung?"

"Yep, you'll start going numb soon," Carter was miraculously able to translate from gibberish into English. Or perhaps it was the universal translator.

After a few minutes, Carter subtly nodded to Cessa, and then picked up what Jim's rapidly beating heart recognised as the dental drill.

"I'm gonna get started now sweetheart," she said softly, "If you need a break, just raise your hand."

The second she turned on the drill and the sound rang in the air, Jim's mind was plagued by the exact same noise from last week, the pain, the screaming, the terror, everything.

As it descended towards his mouth, Jim couldn't help but start kicking and screaming on the chair, as if the drill was his mortal enemy, worse than the Klingons, worse than Romulans, his ultimate adversary, Starfleet's arch enemy—then the sound stopped. And only his kicking and screaming were heard.

"It's alright sweetheart, just relax, it's alright," she comforted him, placing a hand on his shoulder to gently stop him from kicking and flailing. When Jim's behaviour didn't settle, she gestured to Cessa to get the retractors out of his mouth. "I've put the drill aside, just relax."

But Jim didn't relax. He was terrified, and he didn't want to be here. He didn't. He had to get out, he had to run.

Cessa removed the retractors, and Jim screaming turned into sobbed words immediately.

"I don't-I don't-I don't-I don't-I wanna go-I wanna-I wanna-I-I wanna-Let me-go-Please-Please!"

Carter rubbed her hand up and down his arm. "Sweetheart, no-one is going to hurt you, okay? But I need you to stop kicking, you're gonna hurt yourself."

"Pleeeease! Let me go!" Jim sobbed frantically, continuing and flail around like a fish washed up on shore.

Biting her lip, Carter decided to raise the chair upright again, hoping the feeling of control would help Jim calm down.

It didn't.

"I don't want this! I don't! I wanna leave! Get-get off me! Get off! Get-I wanna-leave-I…I wanna leave!"

Carter shot her head to Cessa, "Get Doctor McCoy," she murmured, watching as her assistant immediately wheeled over to the comm.

"I don't wanna!"

"It's okay, no-one is doing anything…it's okay, shhh…"

"I don't want-I don't want you to hurt-hurt me-"

"Nobody is going to hurt you, Jim, it's okay, it's all gonna be alright…"

But Jim's brain wracked his thoughts with Reagan, leaning over him, drill in hand and ignoring his pleas to stop.

Cessa wheeled back over to Carter and whispered behind her ear.

"He's coming."

"Thanks love."

Jim thrashed, "I don't want it!"

"I know, we're not going to do it."

"Please!" Jim cried out, "Please!" Jim couldn't get another word out as his breathing was too frantic for the syllables to form on his lips, strange noising escaping instead.

"Breathe, Jim, breathe…"

Jim stared at her as if she was Frank, and had just kicked his puppy.

"Breathe…calm down…" she coaxed, running a hand behind his back, "Breathe…"

He shook his head, his lips gaping as he tried to form words, his body realising he was starving of oxygen making his panic worse.

"Deep breaths sweetheart," Carter mumbled, "Slow deep breaths, nice and slow…"

Jim's throat sounded like it had tried to follow her advice for two seconds and gave up, his eyes were wide with unbridled terror.

Just then, the doors hissed open, and Jim shot his head over to see who else had come to hurt him, only for it to be Bones. Bones would save him.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, quickly kneeling in front of Jim's chair and taking his hands in his own, "Breathe, darlin', breathe…" he repeated the words of Carter from only a minute earlier.

"He was coping until I turned on the drill, went completely frantic. Full blown panic attack in seconds," Carter informed him.

Jim's mind was able to focus directly on Bones and nothing else, hanging onto him like it was his lifeline.

"I can't do it Bones, I can't," Jim gasped, his fingers clawing at McCoy's wrist, "Don't make me do it, please."

"You've got to darlin', who knows what will happen if we don't take all the mess out," McCoy stood up and shooed Cessa from her chair, sitting and wheeling over until he and Jim were practically knee-to-knee.

Kirk sucked in another breath, feeling like his chest couldn't expand any longer, "I'll—I'll take the risk, don't make me, please don't make me."

Jim studied McCoy's face for any indication that he was going to give in, but as per usual, he was stubborn and unrelenting.

Knowing there was no escape from here, Jim clung onto McCoy's wrists tighter, his nails digging into the skin. His body was overcome with trembling, his skin cold and the world blurring together.

"Jim," he saw McCoy reach out to him, but it all seemed to be in slow motion. Fingers grasped at his jaw, forcing him to look at Bones. "You're overreacting. They've been serving on the ship here ever since we set out two years ago, with Pike, remember?"

Jim shook his head again, he didn't listen, he didn't want to listen.

"I don't care, I don't want to be here! You don't fucking understand! You don't—you don't fucking understand! You don't fucking care! You just—you just want to look good…" Jim shivered and hiccupped as the reality of what he was saying sunk in—his fear of the situation translating into anger and threats.

Instead, the grip on Jim's jaw grew firmer until he could feel the fingers digging into the bone.

"Look at me."

"N-no…"

"Look at me."

"M-m-mno…"

"Look at me."

Frustrated, Jim glanced up stared at the blurry image of Bones.

"Breathe with me, okay?"

"Uh…uh-huh."

"Follow me, deep breath in, hold for five seconds, and out." McCoy demonstrated, and Jim tried to follow, but his body choked out a sob half way through, and he shook his head in denial.

"I can't-can't do it…"

"Yeah you can, breathe in, with me, c'mon Jim." Again, Jim tried to follow his demonstration. His body just didn't want to comply.

Kirk let out a muffled cry of distress, trying to shake Bones' fingers off of his jaw, but the older man was unyielding.

"Get the fuck off me!"

"Look at me, Jim."

"No! Fuck off!"

"Jim—stop—stop moving, look at me—look at me—look at me,"

"Fuck off!" Jim was beginning to attack him now, using his arms to hit and smack him away.

"Jim—hold still, dammit! Carter, let's try the nitrous."

"Yes sir."

It wasn't difficult to remember the last time he was bogged down with nitrous.

'Right, well I better get him off to sleep so I can get started.'

Jim's frantic thrashing and kicking turned into a nightmare for Bones as the kid started kicking him in the stomach, nearly knocking him off the stool.

"Jim, dammit, sit still!" he yelled, deciding Kirk was too out of control now and began holding him against the chair.

"Let go of me, you fucking bastard!" Jim shrieked, hurling his head back against the chair in frustration at his futile efforts to escape from the doctor's clutches.

Carter suddenly wheeled beside him, with a nasal mask that looked extremely familiar. Too familiar.

'You excited, Jimmy?'

'You smell that, Jim?'

"Jim, I'm just gotta pop this over your—"

"NO!" he didn't want to be forced into tranquillity, vulnerable and free for the doctors to do with as they pleased. Images of himself strapped to the table while Reagan cut open his knee flooded his tortured mind.

Regardless, he saw the contraption hovering from above him, obviously they were trying different methods to get it on him as he was too powerful for them.

When Jim thrusted forward and backwards, whipping his head from side to side, he felt Bones' hands tighten around his torso, effectively pinning him against the chair.

He heard Carter from behind the chair, "Sweetheart you need to calm down, I just need you to wear this, that's all."

"No—" Jim coughed and struggled to get out of Bones grip, the hand holding the mask trying to shove it onto his nose but failing because of his rapid movements.

"Cessa, can you…?" was the last thing he heard before a pair of hands came out of nowhere, clamping either side of his head and holding it still. With his body pinned to the chair by Bones and his head pinned by Cessa, Carter finally succeeded in her sinful mission to shove the mask over Jim's nose.

"There you go, sweetheart," she cooed, much like Frank did, according to his ears.

"No…!" Jim started sobbing, he didn't want this. They were forcing it on him. It wasn't fair.

He heard Bones sigh from beside him, before once again a hand was released from his torso and began running through the strands of his hair.

"Breathe in through your nose, Jim," Bones coaxed him, his accent drawling southern as he knew it somehow helped to calm him down, "Just let it do its job, and let us do ours."

Jim gagged, his body catching up to his slowing breathing. As his strength left him, Jim let go of McCoy's arm, his hands dropping onto his lap as his breathing slowed to a normal rate.

Bones' other hand left his torso and gently captured Jim's hand, stroking it with his thumb and muttering reassurances.

"What's it smell like, Jim?" he heard Bones ask from the side of him.

Jim groaned, he didn't want to breathe it in, as it made him weaker. It was a villainous tool to weaken the doctors prey, and there was no way he was falling into that trap.

"How're you feeling, sweetheart?" Carter's voice appeared from the side of him this time.

"Mmm…" was all he could say through the thick fog clouding over his brain.

After a few more minutes of the gas flowing freely into Jim's nose and affecting his body, Jim couldn't help but feel like he wanted to go for a nap. Nurse Cessa had left, with McCoy having agreed to take over so that she could cover medbay while he was gone.

"What's it smell like, Jim?" Bones repeated, causing Jim's eyes to search him out. When he found the subject of the voice, he inhaled softly, shutting his eyes for a second. A half-smile formed on his lips when he tried to describe the smell of the gas.

"Mmm…strawberries…" he answered, noticing Bones quickly glance up to Carter, then begin to stand up.

As soon as McCoy left his side, Jim felt the chair vibrate as he was lowered down flat again.

"Strawberries, huh?" Bones humoured him, waiting for the chair to stop moving before wheeling behind him and nodding to someone Jim couldn't see.

"Yeah…" Jim soon found out who Bones was talking to when Carter reappeared by his side with the 'retractors' or whatever they were called, Jim couldn't remember.

His eyes were locked onto Bones as Carter pried open his mouth and started packing the retractor inside, for some reason Bones was interested and was looking down at him too.

When Jim remained still without a fuss, he felt a gentle squeeze on his arm.

"Good boy," Carter whispered, her eyes kind and reassuring. The edges of Jim's lip curved as he tried to smile. "Here's some sunglasses to make you look badass," she added, sliding them on top of the mask on his nose. It all seemed strangely familiar, as if he'd done all of this minutes ago.

Bones and Carter talked amongst themselves for a few minutes, but Jim couldn't care less.

"I'm not leaving him on his own again, it's not damn right."

"Well, I'm not gonna argue, he settles with you around."

Carter laughed, and Jim laughed too. Something was funny. Carter pulled her mask up.

Bones glanced over to him, a small smirk on his lips. Jim giggled again.

"Something funny, Jim?"

"Uh-huh!" he made a content noise at the back of his throat and smiled towards both the doctors.

"Good old nitrous," Carter chuckled, wheeling above Jim and taking out a contraption that was lying in a tray, very, very, very slowly…

Jim thought it was funny, so he started giggling again.

"Damn kid, let me in on the joke, huh?" McCoy smirked, wheeling up beside Carter and gently clasping the sides of Jim's face in his hands.

Carter approached with contraption which looked like a drill that had been miniaturized with a shrink ray. Jim's eyes glanced up to Bones as he felt himself start giggling again.

Then, there was a high pitch whirring in the air, and the fingers around his face inched, the thumbs stroking his cheeks in a rhythmic motion. It was nice, Jim liked the feeling of the fingers stroking his cheeks. He almost didn't notice when one of his teeth started vibrating.

"Good boy," he heard Carter remark over the shrill noise, "You're being really brave, aren't you?"

"Nurse, nitrous doesn't de-age someone to a child, damn it," Bones was scowling at her.

"It leaves him weak and childish, doctor. I do this for a living, speaking to them like this soothes nervous patients under nitrous."

He saw Bones shrug, "Well, I'm a surgeon, if they're anxious then I put them to sleep."

Jim was pretty sure he saw Carter smile under her mask, "Yep, and there's your problem right there."

The high-pitched sonic drilling went on for another twenty minutes, before McCoy hit her on the shoulder and told her to stop.

"What?" Carter looked pissed off for once, she hated being interrupted by other doctors thinking they knew better.

Bones pointing to one of Jim's back molars, "The coated layer was covering the tooth; there's a black mark over here, see?"

Carter frowned, leaning forward and analysing what it was. "Could just be a stain."

"Or, it's left over from a previous drilling done from last week that could have something to do with the mouth guard and was covered up with the coating."

"You want me to drill into the root of a perfectly healthy tooth because it could have something to do with the mouth guard?"

"It's not perfectly healthy, dammit! Reagan—our prisoner, removed the enamel from every single tooth, there's not a healthy one left."

"Then perhaps the coating is simply there to replace the enamel and has nothing to do with the mouth guard at all."

Jim watched McCoy's frown lines crease so deep that his nose was beginning to crinkle, "I'm ordering you to investigate it."

"Fine, but if it's nothing, it's on your head."

When the drill started up again, Jim flinched and instinctively began clawing on the leather of the chair.

It was instantly turned off. "It's alright darlin', we just stopped to decide the next best course of action, and uh, we're carrying on now." Bones offered a sincere smile, and Jim's fingernails stopped digging into the leather.

"Kay."

So, the noise started up again, and this time Jim was able to stay relatively calm.

"There, look," Bones pointed towards the now exposed molar, "It's been surgically attached to the root of his molar and then covered up with sealant. No wonder we couldn't see it."

Carter huffed, shaking her head and reaching to the side out of Jim's sight. Bones took the time to make sure Jim was still okay.

"You doin' alright, kiddo?"

Jim blinked tiredly, "Uh-huh…"

"You in any pain?"

"Uh-uh…"

"Tired?"

"Uh-huh…"

"Well, we, or I found out what the problem is, so we're just gonna fix it up and we'll be done, okay?"

Jim let out a slow sleepy breath, "Uh-huh…"

"We'll get you back in bed real soon, okay?" Bones continued to reassure him, "It should be easy to take out now we know where it is."

Jim wanted to say more than "uh-huh" in reply to that, but the retractors in his mouth were stopping him from speaking anything other than gibberish.

"Don't s'pose that you'll turn up to your physicals on time now that you know something much worse can happen," he jibed.

"Hey!" Carter shouted from the side, "I'll have you know that my line of work is extremely important to me!"

Jim grinned and shook his head. If anything, he was even less likely to turn up to physicals now.

"So important that you'll oversee other major operations because this doesn't satisfy you?" McCoy sneered.

Carter wheeled back towards them and jabbed McCoy in the side with tool.

"Shut up, I've got work to do, unlike you."

Jim watched Bones expression change from a playful jibe to apprehension when Carter stuck a tool in Jim's mouth, probably expecting him to lash out again.

Bones was never usually this upbeat and joking, especially with people he'd never spoke to in his life and just met. A niggling feeling at the back of Jim's mind told him it was all a show to keep him comforted. And he didn't really mind that, it was nice to see Bones smile for once.

"Okay…" Carter murmured, taking the drill in one hand and some weird tweezer tool in the other, "I should be able to dislodge it and take it out, this won't take a minute," she informed him.

The high-pitched whirring sound rung in the air again, Jim staring directly at Bones' face as a distraction from it. He had yelled at him and demanded that he left the room beforehand, but now he was deeply glad that he was there with him.

Kirk was nicely distracted, until he felt a tug and immense pain shooting from his tooth. He jolted and tried to push Carter away.

"Crap, sorry, the damn thing is close to a nerve, I'm not sure if I can…" there was a long pause, and a scrutinizing stare from Carter before she leaned back, "Shit."

Jim watched Bones sigh and try to take a look for himself, settling down again after realising it was an accident. "Here, yeah?"

"Yep, it's impossible to move it without touching the nerve."

"Nope, give those to me."

Carter stared at Bones astonished for a second, before making a "whatever" noise and passing her tools to him.

"What makes you think you can do it when you're not even a dentist?" she mused, both of them watching McCoy as he leaned over Jim and tried it for himself.

"I'm a surgeon…" he muttered, the sound ringing in the air again. It was beginning to upset Jim, he could feel it.

There was another tug, and small shooting pain that left as quickly as it came, then a sickening cracking noise as something was being torn. Every single one of his teeth felt like superglue was being removed from the surface, starting from the left hand side, over to the right. It felt disgusting.

"There you go, wasn't that hard," Bones dropped huge half-destroyed mess of lanky material on the tray beside him. "That looks much better."

Jim gazed up at him hopefully, uncaring of the contraption in his mouth prohibiting his speech "Ih eh un nuh?"

"Yeah Jim, it's all done now," McCoy breathed, placing the tools aside.

Carter gave him a nod of approval and quickly began removing the retractors from Jim's mouth.

"You did good, kid." Bones praised him, a hand resting on his shoulder. Jim licked his lips, finally able to close his jaw and nodded gleefully. "You want me to keep that mask on and put you to sleep, or I can put you on oxygen to wake you up a bit more, if you want?"

Jim blinked tiredly, the thought of sleeping suddenly appealing to him. He wasn't sure with how he'd react completely lucid without the nitrous being in the office, so he chose to sleep instead.

"Sleep" he croaked, his voice hoarse from being unused.

"Alright."

Jim didn't even remember falling asleep.

Medbay.

McCoy tapped through his PADD, checking Jim's allergy list for the millionth time, despite having it all memorised. He had Jim stocked up on a ton of drugs, he hadn't even come around from sedation yet.

It'd been two hours since the appointment, and Jim was recovering nicely.

Or so McCoy constantly tried to convince himself, having sat by his bedside since he was brought in here.

But he couldn't get himself to stand up and do something else. Every so often Chapel would approach him and ask if he wanted to swap; he always said no.

"Bones?"

McCoy's head shot up at the voice, turning to Jim and checking his vitals. Again.

"Hey Jim," he smiled kindly, "I'm here, you're fine. Are you in any pain?" his pain indicator was very low, but he thought he'd ask nonetheless, y'know, on the off chance it wasn't working.

"No…you got me on the good stuff, Bones?" Jim's eyes were fluttering, his eyes struggling to focus on him, it was obvious the kid was going to pass out from exhaustion again any minute.

"Yeah, you're on a high right now. When it wears off, it should be manageable," he gestured to the table, "Got you your hamburger too, like we promised."

Jim grinned, but quickly shut his eyes again. "…Sleepy…"

"That's fine, just sleep."

Jim offered a weak smile, "M'kay…"

McCoy waited until he thought Jim was asleep, before turning to his PADD again.

16 new messages from Spock.
8 new messages from Nyota Uhura.

"Bones?"

'Dammit, Jim.'

"Yeah, Jim?" he turned off the PADD and came to his side again.

"Is…is it all over now?"

Bones offered a smile, "It's all over, Jim."

Another pause as Jim's struggling mind tried to process it.

"Safe?"

"Yes Jim, you're safe."

And just like that, he was asleep again.

Damn right you're safe. Never gonna let you out of my god damn sight again you endearing piece of shit.

The End.

I have to leave it there, I'm really struggling now lol. I hope you enjoyed, and if you're bingereading this….then that's…a lot of reading.

If you enjoy hurt!Kirk, then feel free to follow my username or whatever the deal is here, as my fanfictions are just a never-ending library of Kirk angst.

Thanks for reading, guys!