Note: Sorry this took so damn long to post. I know it should've come a while ago. I kind of freaked out or something. I would compare it to being on stage and making the mistake of looking directly into the faces of the audience members during the middle of the 2nd Act of a play. And of course, you're finally scared shitless. You freeze, forgetting all your lines until someone nudges you or whispers the words into your ear. That's kind of what it felt like. That moment of "What the fuck am I doing?" Sorry about that. I think I'm good now that I've had my moment of stage fright. And just so you know, this chapter has been rewritten about a thousand times because the damn characters wouldn't do what I wanted. Sorry if it shows.

IV. Not Alone

Leonard found himself surrounded by a thick dark fog. Distorted shadows reached for him, snaking long fingers towards his shaking form, ready to lead him deeper into the darkness while something on the other side made a feeble attempt at pulling him back to consciousness. The fear Leonard felt was lightly overshadowed by frustration as he realized after endless hours? Days? There really was no way to classify the time, but after endless whatevers of neither side prevailing over the other, he became irritated. But there was always that fear lurking behind it all because any moment now one side would win and he would have to leave.

There was no telling how long Leonard stayed there, hanging in that godforsaken limbo, waiting for something to happen. Eventually the shadows pulled their long fingers back into the darkness and left while the other side grew stronger. As he slowly felt the blackness dissipate around him, he thought he could almost hear Jim's voice, but the blackness was still too thick to comprehend, other than a few thoughts here and there. Damn it. You've been so… leaving…don't need…why? Just a few disjointed and unconnected words that had little meaning by themselves.

Eventually, after ages of waiting not-so patiently and struggling fruitlessly to speed up the process, Leonard finally managed to pull himself mostly back into consciousness. He was instantly aware of the complete and utter quiet filling the space around him. It gave him pause. He was afraid to open his eyes. For one brief moment, the glimmering hope that he was dead lit in his mind. Then he inhaled and there was a familiar scent in the air, the sterility of antiseptic. It invaded his nostrils and unless the afterlife smelled like a hospital, he knew that he was still very much alive. In an instant, memory came crashing back down on him.

He remembered that the doctor in him panicked a little at first and tried to staunch the blood flowing freely from his wrist with his fingers. That is, until, a few short minutes later, when the pills kicked in, and boy, what a sensation that was.

At the fevered blinding pain that started in his lower abdomen he finally dropped his wrist and gave in to the spasms that rolled through him in waves. The agony was extraordinary. It was like every star in the galaxy had exploded inside him, an overwhelming heated pain. Then it would lesson for a short time, receding to a dull ache covering his body and he would shudder and gasp and try to recover before the next. Then a new wave would hit, and every part of him that felt like it was on fire before blazed anew in pain more excruciating than before. The wildfire spread, engulfing more and more of his body with each passing wave.

And then there was Jim. He knew that's who it was when the door chimed and that the stupid son of a bitch would be overriding his changed code or hacking the system momentarily. It didn't matter much though. He was lying there, drowning in his own blood, wondering why the hell the goddamn pain shooting through his body hadn't torn him apart yet. It was hard to focus on anything else, so he missed Jim entering.

The next thing he knew, the lights, which seemed to have a personal vendetta against Leonard's eyes and pounding head, were turned on way too bright. He snapped them shut against the offending glare and swallowed hard against the nausea lingering in the back of his throat. Somewhere in the haze he heard Jim's voice, real or imagined though, he didn't know.

Then another shock of pain was shooting through his body, down his limbs, sparking electric currents to his fingertips. He arched his back against the pain, fingers clawing at anything he could grab on to. There was a sickening rise in his throat and he only just managed to roll onto his side before heaving painfully. Each jolting spasm of his stomach emptying itself seemed to feed the fiery licks of pain even more.

The firm touch on his shoulders and the sound of someone calling his name coaxed his consciousness alive, had him searching for the source of the sound and touch. Leonard's eyes connected with a grey shirt spattered with red he suspected belonged to him. He followed the shirt upwards to the man's neck and finally to the familiar face attached to it. Damn, it was Jim. But once Bones' eyes found Jim's unsettling icy blue ones, filled with concern and alarm, he couldn't look way. The eyes grounded him to the present, and for a brief moment, his pain dissolved. Until Jim ran, or rather hobbled, to the bathroom, reappearing with two towels.

That brief reprieve from Jim's sight was all it took for Leonard to regain his control, or as much as he had in his current state. He felt acutely more aware now, especially with Jim moving towards his bleeding wrist. It took a great deal of effort, but Leonard did manage to shake away the gentle hands on his wrist, though with a hiss of pain at the pull of torn skin.

"Bones, please. I need to try to stop the bleeding." Jim's eyes pleaded with that wide-eyed pained look that always made his chest ache. He was never successful at resisting against that look. But he sure as hell had to try. Through pain and fever he only managed to grunt out three words, but he made them as cold as he could muster, hoping it would be enough to get his point across. "Don't. Leave it."

Something unrecognizable flashed briefly across Jim's face before it was replaced with a different look: determination. Determination like Leonard had never seen before, his brows furrowed in such serious concentration that it was a wonder that Jim didn't have an ulcer just from the sheer power behind the look. "I'm not going to leave it alone." Jim paused, swiping his hand across his brow, leaving a red smear there. "Damn it! Leonard Horatio McCoy, I'm not going to sit here and watch you die."

Leonard started at the use of his full name, something he hadn't heard since he'd gotten caught stealing a slice of pecan pie before dinner and was scolded by his eighty-three-year-old grandma. At this point there was no denying that he was doomed and he knew it.

So he didn't even try to protest the second time Jim brought his strong hands to the deep slashes on his wrist. The gentle almost-caress of his touch made Leonard whimper. He hoped Jim thought it was from the pain and not from the close contact or the burn left on his skin from the callused pads of Jim's fingers.

And then Leonard nearly squeaked when he felt strong arms pull his upper half off the ground until he was awkwardly half-sitting in Jim's lap. He tensed for a second before giving in, letting his cheek fall against the soft fabric of Jim's shirt. It smelled nice, even with the biting scent of his own blood wafting around him. In a few short minutes he was completely relaxed against Jim's frame, especially when he was wracked with another spasm and Jim clung to him protectively, whispering things he couldn't make sense of in his ear.

After the throbbing ceased, Leonard remembered little else. The darkness began closing in on him rapidly and Jim's voice became more muddled and distant with each passing second. He remembered talking to Jim, muttering something in half-delirium; God knows what exactly though with unconsciousness creeping in so suddenly. For a short time he struggled against the black, straining to keep the comforting sound of Jim with him as he passed deeper into the dark shadows. Eventually Jim's voice faded until it disappeared completely and he was swallowed by darkness.

Now completely conscious, Leonard registered the unmistakable weight of a warm hand on his thigh. Curiosity overcame him and he finally opened his eyes, a little too quickly. He hissed in pain at the offensive glare coming from the lights before snapping them shut again. Before trying again, he waited for the throbbing in his skull to stop. More prepared this time, he slowly opened both eyes, blinking at the brightness before sweeping his eyes around the room.

Leonard recognized the gleaming sterilized walls of the sickbay immediately and would have kicked himself if he could have. Of course, he had already recognized the place just from the familiar sterile scent which had been his constant companion since his childhood days spent waiting for his dad at the hospital, but he had hoped and prayed that somehow it had just been his senses tricking his brain.

This was the last place he wanted to be, surrounded by the white walls, suffocating from the smothering concern of the members of his staff. There was no way he would ever be able to look them in the face again.

Without moving, he did a quick survey of the room, recognizing it as one of the private rooms usually reserved for the more important diplomats and ambassadors who he sometimes cared for. The only thing different was that to his left there was an extra biobed that someone had pulled into the room, although at the moment it was empty.

Leonard sighed and let the achingly painful feeling of helplessness wash over him. Only he would fail at killing himself. It was just another thing to add to the list. He should've expected it really. As far as doctors go and even just people really, there were far more competent ones than him. People who wouldn't have committed the classic of all errors, the error that he of all people should have known better than do: underestimate Jim Kirk.

But he had, despite the gnawing feeling that he was forgetting something, that one of the variables wasn't accounted for. Damn, he was starting to sound like that walking computer passing as a Vulcan. But he had screwed up and he would soon be facing the consequences of his actions, like so many times before. Consequences he hadn't really taken into account before, because there was no way he could fail. He was a doctor and knew exactly where to cut to do the most damage to himself. But he was also a failure and once a failure, always a failure.

Leonard turned his wrist over and stared for a moment at the shiny pink scars gleaming there in the blaring florescent light. A few more times with the dermal regenerator and they would be completely gone. No one would ever know what happened. That is, if the entire damn ship didn't know about the disaster by now, which was impossible to say the least.

Gossip spread like wildfire on a starship like this, especially when they went through long dry spells with no missions and thus were left with little to entertain themselves besides the stories of who was sleeping with whom and what really went on in the Jefferies Tubes on Deck Seven at night. By now, the entire crew probably knew him as "that crazy-ass bastard" instead of "Doctor McCoy". And that was only the smallest of the prices he would have to pay for such a failure.

God, the worst would be Jim, especially if he'd seen the vid-message Leonard recorded for him. And because it was Jim, the annoying prying bastard that he was, Leonard could safely say that Jim had probably seen it already. Perfect. The cataclysmic ending to the entire fiasco.

Leonard groaned and lifted his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. Or at least he tried to, but damn, his arm felt a lot heavier than he remembered and the motion made his muscles quiver with exhaustion. He really did know how to fuck up his body. In the end, the gesture wasn't worth the effort and he let his arm flop back uselessly at his side.

The movement caused the head resting near his hip (pointedly ignored until that moment) to stir and the hand around his thigh to tighten infinitesimally. He turned his attention to the long callused fingers and didn't have to ask who the hand belonged to, even though the face of the blond man was turned away from him.

The last thing he really wanted from Jim right now was a confrontation about what had happened. There was nothing to talk about. He wanted out. That was it. And the message was only going to make things worse. Leonard didn't want to think about the rejection just yet. He didn't want to see the look on Jim's face when he told Leonard that, while he was flattered by the whole thing, he didn't have any feelings beyond friendship for him.

It didn't help that now that he knew that it was Jim by his side, he was suddenly hypersensitive to that hand burning into his thigh. And then there was the desperate longing to feel that scorching heat of Jim's hands running all over his body.

The burning conflict of emotions within him was making his chest ache. He wanted so badly the one thing he couldn't have and it only made that deep pang of despair filling him worse.

Leonard needed to put some distance between the two of them before he really lost it. He willed his muscles to work and eventually managed to remove himself from Jim's grasp and move as far over as the small biobed would allow. A sharp pain shot through his abdomen as he moved, but it was worth a little pain to have put just that little space between them.

Unfortunately, Jim's hand seemed to miss the warmth previously underneath it. Leonard watched as Jim's fingers snaked out, gently investigating the surrounding area for warm flesh. Finding none, the man jolted awake immediately to figure out what was amiss.

In an instant Jim's piercing blue eyes found Leonard's face. When their eyes finally connected, Jim's looked suspiciously wet, but those couldn't be tears ready to slide down his cheeks. But sure enough, in a few short seconds, wet tracks appeared on his face and Leonard couldn't help but feel his throat tighten at the sight. As close as they were as friends, crying was not on the list of things they did together often. Or, ever actually when Leonard thought about it.

With a choked "Bones" Jim launched himself on top of Leonard's chest, tightening his arms around his torso and burying his face into his neck. Leonard was taken aback and, after a moment, realized the kid was speaking to him, but his words were garbled thanks to the obviously good painkillers Leonard was on and the sobbing man that was apparently Jim. He struggled in vain to make sense of the bits he picked out.

"Bones don't you ever… thought you weren't…never told you…"

He let this continue for a few minutes, but eventually, Leonard had taken all he could stand of it. Because, after a brief moment of shock at Jim's actions, the urges he was trying so hard to keep at bay were coming back. And damn it, it was only throwing him further into his depression, knowing that if he were to steal a kiss from Jim's perfect lips the man would be gone before he'd get a word out.

Jim was calming down so he could get off and leave him alone. Either way, that was where their conversation would be headed, with him alone again, as depressing as it would be. He nudged Jim, or tried to, once again because his limbs still weren't cooperating the way he would have liked. So instead he swallowed around the dry hoarseness in his throat and forced it to work.

It took a couple of tries, but he finally managed to say quite forcefully, "Off Jim."

When Jim didn't move he protested louder. "Off damn it!"

Jim jumped out of his arms. He took a step back and looked hurt.

"Bones?" he said quietly, "What's the matter?"

Leonard might've laughed at such a dumb question if he was in a better mood. But he wasn't, so he replied with as much energy as he could muster, "Jim just leave me alone. I don't want you here."

"I will not just leave you alone. You could've died." Jim rubbed away the remaining moisture on his cheeks with a quick swipe of those strong fingers. Leonard tried not to stare too hard at them and focused on responding as coherently as possible.

"That was the general idea."

"I know that was the idea. Forgive me for not being ready to lose my best friend yet, especially because he's dumb enough to think that his life is worth nothing and that he has no one left who cares about him."

Leonard grimaced. He had hoped they could have waited a little while at least to have this heart to heart, perhaps until never, but then, Jim was never really one to beat around the bush. Of course, just because Jim wanted to talk, didn't mean he had to.

"Jim, can we talk about this later?"

"Bones, I'm not going to just forget about this."

"I know," he sighed, doing his best to ignore that aching longing. "I just…I don't want to," he finished lamely. How could Leonard explain to Jim about how it felt to have his whole world gone in a flash, to be left frightened and alone in the dark? He couldn't.

"I know you don't Bones, but it's like you always tell me. Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to."

Leonard didn't answer, because he did say that to Jim. Quite often, in fact. But it didn't change the fact that he wasn't ready to have his heart broken again.

"I'm not going to judge you, if that's what you're worried about. I'm your best friend, and, well, I'm here for you." Jim looked mildly uncomfortable saying those words. Leonard wondered why; especially since he had just finished leaving wet tear tracks on his chest.

"I just don't want to talk about it." Leonard knew it was foolish to believe that if he kept repeating this, eventually Jim would just give up and go away, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Really though, this was just an exercise in futility. They would just go back and forth until one or both of them exploded and that wasn't going to be a pretty sight.

"Fine. You don't have to talk about it. Just listen." Jim paused. Leonard could feel those perfect blue eyes watching him, even with his own eyes pointedly fixed on the rough blanket in his lap. "I was worried about you. You can't just do something like that to me."

Leonard finally felt that painful despair in his chest twist into a slowly bubbling, irrational anger. Why the hell did Jim even care? He would never be alone, even if Leonard was gone because Jim could easily get anyone he wanted on the whole damn ship. He would never know what it felt like to feel utterly lost and abandoned in the chaos of a life spinning away from his control.

"Damn it Jim," Leonard cried, finally meeting Jim's eyes to give him what he hoped was his death glare. "What part of 'leave me alone' do you not understand?"

"I promised I wouldn't leave. I'm trying to keep my promise," Jim replied calmly.

"You're keeping promises now Jim? Finally growing up and taking responsibility? Well, save yourself the effort. I don't want you here."

"Why not Bones? What is it? Just tell me."

"Because damn it Jim, you don't know what it's like to feel your whole world collapsing around you, and all you can do is stand there and watch it go down because everything you try to do ends up being like throwing water on a grease fire. It only gets worse. And in the end all you want to do is throw yourself into that mess and be done with it before it takes you first." Leonard stopped and was breathing hard now, heart thumping loudly in time with the anger pulsing through him.

"I understand what that's like probably better than anyone else on this ship," Jim protested quietly. The look on his face wasn't the usual pouty look he got when disagreeing with something Leonard said, but rather a serious look, eyebrows pulled down a little bit. The look didn't suit Jim at all.

"How Jim? I know I know. Your life is so hard," Leonard retorted acerbically. "Cushy job as a starship captain. And not on just any ship, but the flagship of the Federation. Not to mention that you're the biggest goddamn flirt I've ever seen and you always get whatever the hell you want. How could you possibly know what I'm feeling? Huh?"

Leonard hated the fact that he was the one to finally explode. He hated feeling an anger that was almost dangerously out of control, hands shaking despite being clenched tightly into fists at his sides.

He watched as Jim's face went stony save for the muscles in his jaw tightening, his own knuckles white as they curled into fists. They were almost mirror images of each other, carefully subduing the worst of the rage but still pretty damn pissed off.

"What the hell do you know? God, I thought you might understand me. I guess I was wrong. You think my life is easy? Yeah, it was easy with my abusive stepfather around, easy getting my ass kicked in every day since I was six until I was old enough to get the hell out of there. And it's easy to be—raped by the man. All you have to do is lie there and take it." He paused to take in the look on Leonard's face, then continued. "You're always asking me where the scars came from. Well now you know."

"Jim—"

Jim held up his hand to silence the other man. "Just don't," he replied, shaking his head and before proceeding to walk out.

Leonard could only stare as the only man he truly considered a friend stalked out of the room. He felt like a first rate asshole. There was no way to take back what he said to Jim, the one man who apparently did understand how he felt. How could he have not known, never even suspected that Jim had been—abused. Leonard forced himself to think the word then swallowed it down with his disgust. And he was the ship's Chief Medical Officer as well as counselor. Perfect. He was doing great with that job.

But the absolute worst part about the whole situation was that he couldn't go after Jim. Even if he was in good health there would be no way he could haul his ass around the ship looking for a man who was a master at hiding when he didn't want to be found. And now Leonard knew why. Jim had probably been a champion hide-and-seek player growing up, disappearing when he didn't want to be found by that cruel hand under which he suffered.

So instead Leonard was left there staring at the blank ceiling, contemplating all the ways in which he was a royal fuck-up.

His wallowing was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the room. He turned his head towards the door, hoping futilely that it was Jim. He needn't have bothered. It was only Christine, and though she was his head nurse and probably most trusted colleague, Leonard wasn't in any mood to deal with her either. Sometimes she could be a stubborn pain in his ass. Of course, she had learned that from him, so he really had no one to blame but himself. She turned to him, trapping his eyes in her own.

"Oh, you're finally awake." She moved to push the button he knew would page whichever doctor was on duty. Looking around the room, she took in the empty bed beside Leonard's and frowned. "Where's the captain?"

He ran out after I told him that he's never known what it's like to have your world fall apart. Only then I learned that my best friend of five years was abused both physically and sexually by his stepfather growing up.

Leonard decided that probably wasn't the best thing to say to her, even if he could trust her not to say anything to any other member of the crew. He decided on a tamer version of the truth. "We argued. He left."

"What? Why'd you let him leave?" She looked pissed, and not just pissed, but pissed at Leonard, something he didn't like to see too often. He couldn't understand exactly why though. Jim was free to do as he pleased and there really just no stopping him sometimes. Still, Christine looked less than delighted with him.

"How was I supposed to stop him? I'm not exactly in top shape right now. And anyway, he's a grown man. He can do whatever the hell he wants."

"Not when he's in the care of my sickbay, he's not."

"Your sickbay?" he protested.

"Yes, my sickbay. When you go and pull a stunt like that, this becomes my sickbay."

They were interrupted by a middle-aged balding doctor clearing his throat awkwardly in the doorway. Leonard recognized him as the new replacement Starfleet had just sent them. What was his name? Mayhew? Melvin? Mehin? Yeah, it was definitely Mehin. Chapel didn't seem too thrilled at his presence, even though she herself had just requested it.

"Not now!" she snapped at him.

"But I need to just check on—"

"I said, not now!"

Mehin just stared at her, completely stunned into silence. It was obvious that he wasn't used to being talked to in such a way, especially not from a nurse. He obviously didn't know this particular head nurse very well. Leonard felt a swell of pride at the thought that she could reduce this man, who was technically her superior, into a stammering child. She would make a damn good doctor someday, if she wanted.

"You want to make yourself useful? Go find the captain. He's off prancing around the ship somewhere like the idiot that he is."

Mehin wisely took her suggestion and scurried out the way he came, eyes wide in apparent horror. Leonard turned back to the petite woman before him, noting the concerned look on her face. And suddenly he remembered what she said and concern filled him too.

"Jim's in your care?"

"Yes," she said with a tired sigh, running a slim hand across her forehead.

"What did he do now?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"Don't jump to conclusions. This time he happened to save your life. You did a hell of a job on yourself. We managed to repair all the damage except in your liver, which seemed to have some previous damage done to it already. We had to remove it and the captain insisted on being a live donor. He gave you a piece of his." She nodded solemnly after this.

Leonard felt his stomach tighten at her words. He was currently sitting with a piece of Jim Kirk's liver inside him. Whatever possessed Jim to be a live donor, Leonard didn't know. Despite his surprise, he managed to retort the same way he would when he didn't approve of something Jim did, even though this time he might have been a little touched by Jim's actions.

"He what? Damn fool."

"He's no damn fool. Well, yes, he is actually, but he cares about you a lot."

"Right," he retorted coldly.

"Leonard, you didn't see his face. You didn't have to see the look in his eyes when we brought you in or when we told him your liver was gone. He was willing to do anything to save you. Hell, he would have held your hand throughout the entire surgery if Mehin let him. He's an ass, by the way."

"Mehin or Jim?" Leonard asked.

"Well, that depends on the day, but I was talking about Mehin. He pretty much insulted your friendship and Kirk was this close to throwing him out of an airlock." She motioned with about a centimeter between her fingers.

"Leave it to Jim."

"Yes, leave it to the captain." Christine sighed. "But Leonard, the man's feelings run pretty deep for you. I've seen Jim Kirk after hundreds of Away Missions. I've seen him battered and bruised and bleeding out, I've seen the look on his face after he's lost another crew member and he feels guilty because he believes it was his personal responsibility to take care of the kid. But I have never seen him so completely scared in my entire life. And I don't ever want to see that look on his face ever again. He just looked so…lost when we told him the outlook wasn't good."

Leonard had no reply ready for these statements and a mutual silence settled over them both as Christine moved to examine him. She only spoke to ask him a question about how he felt, did this hurt or whatever. He responded tersely to each question.

Despite sleeping for so long already, by the time Christine finished, Leonard was feeling drowsy again. His eyes closed of their own accord. Before drifting back to sleep, he felt her hand brushing his hair away from his forehead as she whispered softly in his ear.

"He loves you Leonard. We all do, but Jim most of all."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Leonard awoke sometime later to find Spock just sitting down in the chair next to his bed. He couldn't help noticing that it was the same chair Jim had occupied earlier.

"I apologize for waking you, Doctor. It was not my intention to disturb your sleep." Despite Spock's cordiality (which was how he always was), Leonard felt no need to use that gentlemanly Southern civility that he was raised with.

He swallowed against the cottony feeling in his mouth that told him he'd embarrassingly enough, been sleeping with his mouth open before replying.

"What the hell are you doing here? Come to harass me too? Question my sanity maybe?"

That damn eyebrow twitched slightly. "No, Doctor. And I can assure you that no one on board the Enterprise believes that you crazy."

"Bullshit. You can't be telling me that the gossip-whores aren't having a field day with this one."

"Once again, I assure you that there are no rumors circulating regarding your actions or the motives behind them."

Leonard felt his own eyebrow skyrocket upward. "That's impossible."

"It is not impossible, merely improbable on a ship this size," Spock replied, somehow managing to sound smug in that emotionless Vulcan way of his. Either that or it was all just in Leonard's imagination. He didn't know.

"Fine, improbable then," he amended. "I still don't believe you."

"It is of your own accord that you choose to deem my words as truth or falsehood, but I must inform you that I am incapable of lying." Spock folded his hands together in his lap.

"And how do you expect me to believe that every person on this damn ship isn't having fun talking about 'that crazy-ass doctor of ours'?"

"No one knows about the events that transpired aside from the captain, the medical team, Nyota and me."

"What?" his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How?"

"Each member of the medical team is of course sworn to protect a patient's confidentiality. And the captain threatened to, I believe his words were 'castrate them and send their genitalia out of the airlock' if he suspected anyone else knew. He also enlisted my help in quelling the rumors. The crew knows that you were involved in a near-fatal accident occurring while sparring with the captain. We also informed them that you have not been awake for any substantial period of time, but it was your wish to remain undisturbed until your release from sickbay."

Apparently Jim Kirk was full of surprises today. Of course it was making Leonard regret more and more his harsh words to Jim, but all he could really do was wait until Jim got back and try to make amends. He couldn't count on Jim forgiving him. Hell, he wouldn't blame Jim if he didn't. But he had to try at least.

Leonard heard the sound of Christine's voice reprimanding someone. Spock fidgeted for a second before ultimately rising.

"If you will excuse me, Doctor. I am currently needed elsewhere. I hope that you continue to have a speedy recovery." Then he briskly walked out the door, looking suspiciously like he was trying to make an escape.

It seemed that Mehin wasn't the only one intimidated by Chapel. Something to note for future use. Her words became clearer as she got nearer.

"You shouldn't be gallivanting around the ship in your condition. It takes time to heal from surgery, even with every medical advance we've made."

The patient made a noise in protest, but was cut off. "No buts. You have a fever. Now get into bed."

Leonard looked up to see Christine dragging Jim through the door with a firm grip around his arm. She let go and Jim slowly made his way to the empty bed on the other side of the room, grumbling all the way. They both watched as he begrudgingly got into bed and folded his arms across his chest in an obvious pout.

Christine waited until Jim was settled before addressing them both. "If I see either of you out of bed, so help me I will strap you down to keep you there." Then she turned on her heel and walked out.

There was moment of silence before Jim spoke. "Geez Bones, your nurses are mean."

"Nah, they're just immune to your charms," he retorted. He turned to see Jim smiling lightly at that. After a second, it slid off his face and Leonard continued. "She told me you gave me a piece of your liver.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "But I'm thinking that if you're gonna continue to be an asshole, I want it back." Despite the harshness of the words, they had no bite to them. Even still, the guilt welling in the pit of Leonard's stomach rose again.

"Jim, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said." He shook his head.

"I know." Then there was another silent pause, which was surprisingly more awkward than the conversation until Jim broke it.

"I saw the video." Guilt and embarrassment washed over Leonard, but he replied.

"I thought you might've," he admitted.

Jim's blue eyes caught his own across the room before he spoke again. "I was so angry with myself for not being there for you, especially when you really needed me."

He couldn't take back the "I love you", could he? No, but he had to say something before getting crushed. "Jim, about what I said—"

"Bones, I'm not done. If I don't get this out now, I may never say it. When you said you loved me, I was…surprised honestly and a little horrified." Leonard felt the familiar sinking feeling in his stomach as he prepared for the inevitable rejection.

It must have shown on his face, because Jim was quick to add, "Horror because you were dying and I was so afraid of living with one more regret.

And then that Mehin guy said that without a new liver, you wouldn't survive and I knew that I couldn't just sit back and watch my best friend die. So I let them take a piece of mine. After the surgery, they said you might never wake up. Your case has no precedence you know and the readings were just so fucked up." Leonard did know. That was why he chose to do what he did.

"I just sat there by your side, feeling completely helpless, but what else could I do? And when you finally opened your eyes a few hours ago, I don't think I've ever been more relieved in my entire life." Jim paused to lick his lips and sweep his hand across his face.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is don't you ever scare me like that ever again. Because I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you Bones."

Leonard suddenly realized that sometime in his speech, Jim had gotten up and crossed the room. He was currently sitting on the edge of Leonard's bed and Leonard got the first really good look at him.

Jim's hair was mussed like he hadn't been able to keep his hands out of it, tugging at it like he sometimes did when he was stressed. His skin looked almost whiter than the clean walls surrounding them. There was a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his eyes didn't seem quite as bright as they burned with fever. Leonard surveyed the dark purplish shadows under those feverish eyes and noticed the brief flash of pain pass through them as Jim moved closer.

"Jim, you look terrible. And you should be in bed. You heard Chapel." No, Leonard wasn't afraid of Chapel actually making good on her threat. Nor was he worried about his self control with Jim sitting so close to him. That's what he told himself, anyway.

"Bones, this is serious. Resting can wait." He reached out and stoked the back of Leonard's hand with the pad of his thumb. "I'm trying to tell you I love you too."

As much as Leonard wanted to hear those words, had been dreaming of them for so long, now that Jim said them, he couldn't bring himself to believe them. A part of him wanted to, oh did it ever, but there was still that piece of him that couldn't help thinking that Jim was only telling him what he wanted to hear. He sighed, gloominess settling over him again.

"It's okay, Jim. You don't have to pretend."

"I'm not pretending," he replied calmly. "I can see why you'd think that but don't worry about it. I'll prove it to you in time." Jim squeezed Leonard's hand lightly then leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. And then another and another until he had kissed a light trail to the corner of Leonard's lips. Then he leaned in closer and softly pressed his lips against Leonard's in a warm gentle kiss. Leonard stopped himself from leaning into it or deepening it, even as a cold shiver ran through him.

"Now rest." Jim ordered and stood up to return to his side of the room, leaving Bones there with his lips still tingling. "I'm here if you need me," he said before climbing back into bed and settling back under the sheets.

Leonard found himself wide awake long after Jim's breathing evened out in deep slumber, pondering Jim's uncharacteristically open behavior. It was either the honest truth, or Jim was just telling him what he wanted to hear in a desperate attempt to keep him alive. Trying to figure out which it was only made Leonard's head hurt, so he finally did as Jim said and eventually managed to roll onto his side turning away from Jim, not caring that it took more energy than normal to do so. He let his eyes fall closed and couldn't help but feel a little safer knowing Jim was across the room from him and would still be there when he woke up. The rest he'd figure out later.

Another note: Oh, and guys, I really appreciate all of you who are humoring me and reading this. And commenting. It really makes my day, so thank you thank you thank you everyone.