Archive of Our Own ^beta

Leonard actively pushes a strawberry around his bowl of oatmeal like it's somehow going to make the meal more appealing. It's not the oatmeal's fault, Leonard's just in a funk. It started last night with what should have been a sprit lifting vid chat with his daughter being hijacked by his battle-axe of an ex wife. She was ranting about Joanna's poor grades and truancy at school, which for the record were still impressively good grades and only two absents. Yet somehow that translated into Joanna spiralling out of control like her father. Leonard thinks there are worse people she could turn out like, mainly her mother, but he'd rather his little girl be better than both of them. It doesn't help that his sonic shower broke this morning or that he awoke to the apologetic message of one of his research assistance explaining how they botched a series of test samples setting back his research by a couple of months. Disaster is rolling in and the Enterprise is steering right towards it. Leonard can feel it in his bones.

Leonard's perpetual rain cloud, makes Jim and Scotty's light-hearted enthusiasm for life, all the more insulting. Last thing on Leonard's mind are wild nights on shore leave and Jim's past questionable recreational activities. Life is fraught with danger, why go looking for more? Other people's happiness just seems like a bitch slap today. He's only half listening but he has a feeling Jim's carefree attitude about the topic is going to piss him off just because.

"Scotty, you're going to love it there. The locals have this one sexual position," enthuses Jim, a big smile over takes his face. "Let's just say, it'll make you believe in a higher power," he adds with a satisfied sigh.

"That higher power will be penicillin," mutters Leonard as he takes a sip of his bitter coffee. Of course the replicator only botched his order this morning. He makes a mental note to stock up on antibiotics and schedule Jim for a round of inoculations before leave even starts.

Leonard wishes he could be as laissez-faire about one night stands as everyone else but that's never been his thing. Normally he doesn't judge- each to their own; if they can live with their choices so can Leonard, but watching Jim carry on with anyone and everyone seems to pick at Leonard's soul. He tells himself he shouldn't care so much. That never seems to work. He never had a shot anyway.

Did he even really want one?

"You have something to add about the women of Den-ova, Bones?" asks Jim bemused. It's hard to ignore the permanent rain cloud at the end of the table. It's even harder to ignore that natural instinct to poke at it.

"Of the women? The women no, but you James T Kirk, are a whore." It needed to be said. That and misery loves company so Leonard's taking someone down with him; might as well be the Captain. The breakfast table in the officer's mess is hardly the place Leonard wants to hear about Jim's numerous sexual exploits. Especially today. It shouldn't bug him period, but it stings a little to watch Jim lavish attention on every other breathing organism that knows how to flaunt curves or swagger. Leonard's trying extra hard today to not think to hard about why.

"I prefer the term slut," counters Jim casually. "Sluts give it away for free, which I do. Whore implies I get paid. It's a bit more unseemly." He makes the effort to look put off by the idea. Leonard's feather are already ruffled, Jim can't help but ruffle them a little more. It's a dangerous sport but Jim enjoys it.

Leonard rolls his eyes. "Wouldn't want to accuse you of having entrepreneurial sense."

Jim folds his hands behind his head, puffing out his chest as he leans back comfortably in his chair like it was a throne. "When I'm done, everyone's satisfied. It's a service I'm happy to provide," adds Jim gleefully.

"Humanity thanks you for your service," grumbles Leonard. He's just waiting for the day they find a civilization that communicates through sexual acts or whose custom for forming relations with new species is an orgy. Jim will be in his glory and the Federation will have the best allies locked in perfectly.

"Doctor, to invoke one of your colourful euphemisms, I believe you awoke this morning in the incorrect bed," suggests Spock, looking pointedly at the doctor. The Captain and Doctor often exchange biting banter but there seems to be a sharper edge to McCoy's tone this morning.

"Side," corrects Leonard over Scotty and Jim's giggles. He doubts they're laughing at Spock's error though. "I woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He doesn't have it in him to deal with this level of monotony or immaturity today. "Not someone else's bed."

"Indeed," agrees Spock.

"Maybe that's the problem, Bones," injects Jim, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Scotty tries his best to hide a snicker. "You could join Scotty on shore leave."

Leonard glares hard at Jim and Scotty until their bemused smiles melt off their faces. "Is that your way of sayin' I'm cranky, Spock?" demands Leonard, pointing his spoon at the Vulcan for emphasis. He's not going to engage in this childish game with Jim. Not today.

"You do look more ornery than usual, Bones," agrees Jim.

"That's because this day's doomed. Or haven't you been listening?" continues Leonard. He regaled them all with his tales of woe and warnings of how the universe wasn't through yet, but the conversation quickly turned to happier prospects and fornication.

"Your gut feeling is no more a method for determining the outcome of the day then the casting of bones or the reading of palms, Doctor," says Spock with a tiredness that only Vulcans living among humans seems to possess.

"Are you comparing me to a voodoo doctor?"

"Nonsense, Doctor, you lack the ritualistic bone through the nose."

Leonard glares at Spock before turning his gaze on Jim who's in danger of choking on his eggs from laughing. He'll probably split his pants if he has to jump over the table to give Jim the Heimlich. "Mark my words, Mr Spock, the only thing this day is missing is the looming black crows to herald our impending demise," rants Leonard. "I'm tellin' ya Jim, we should just crawl back into bed and cancel the whole day."

"Really, Doctor, if we forfeited everyday you simply had a bad feeling, we would never leave space dock," cautions Spock.

"He has a point, Bones," concedes Jim, before stabbing the hash brown off of Leonard's plate and stuffing it in his mouth. Though the crawling into bed part is appealing.

The lights dim to signal yellow alert. "Gentlemen," says Jim getting to his feet first. Duty calls.

"See, it's starting already," protest Leonard as he follows Jim, Scotty and Spock to the turbo lift.

"Sulu, report," Jim demands as they step out onto the bridge. He heads directly to his chair.

Sulu jumps out of the captain's chair, giving his report. "We have a vessel emitting a distress signal. They are in need of medical assistance and need help evacuating their ship but there's some radiation interference. Transporters can't get a lock and we can't get an exact read on the damage. Visuals show some hull damage."

Jim turns to Spock, who is already busy at his station. "What are we looking at?"

"The ships designation belongs to the Karten but the design is Reptelian. There does seem to be significant damage to their engines and several hull breaches. There are some readings I do not understand that are making ascertaining a crew count difficult," reports Spock, with a curious expression.

With Spock busy deciphering a mystery, Jim turns to Scotty. "I want you to take an engineering team over in two shuttles, see if you can't help stabilize things and help evacuate those in need of medical treatment."

Scotty nods.

"I know it's M'Benga on away team rotation," starts Jim.

"It is," confirms Leonard.

"But I'd feel better about you leading the medical away team." Jim hits the comm. button for sickbay. It's not that M'Benga is in capable but Leonard has more experience in rescue mission and with time an important factor, Jim wants to put the Enterprise's best foot forward. "I'll have a medical team join you in the transporter room," he adds.

"Yes, Captain," says Leonard, following Scotty to the turbo lift. The universe strikes again.

"Be careful," bids Jim, watching Leonard and Scotty depart for the shuttle bay. He relays the order down to sick bay to have a team meet them in the shuttle bay along with Scotty's team and a security detail.

Jim shifts in his chair, watching on the main viewer as the shuttle docks with the ailing ship. He's itching to join them, to be part of the action but Starfleet is watching its newest and youngest Captain like a hawk and Jim's going to save his infractions for something bigger than a straight forward rescue his talented team can manage. He waits with anticipation as Scotty confirms they've docked and started looking for survivors and the engine room. He can hear Spock studiously working to try and explain the readings that have piqued his interest. Sitting on the bridge waiting while his people do the work is torture.

"Heading down to engineering," reports Scotty over the open comm.

"Two dead bodies in the docking area. Taking half the medical team with me to the front of the ship," adds Leonard. The bridge is probably the best place to start looking for injured in a situation like this.

Time seems to drag on as the bridge waits for updates from the rescue party. Jim stares at the view screen like he can change the outcome of whatever the away party is facing. The longer the silence, the grimmer the prospect of survivors and saving that ship; he's starting to give Leonard's doom and gloom a second thought.

"There's debris blocking access to engineering. We'll have to clear it first. Haven't seen any crew members yet," informs Scotty. The bridge can hear the clanging and banging of the rescue party working in the background.

Surely they should have found someone by now. It's a medium size ship, there has to be more than just the few bodies they found at the docking port. Jim hits the comm. button. "Bones, any survivors yet?" he asks impatiently. Someone made the call. There has to be someone alive over there; they need to turn this day around; they need a win.

"Ji-m there's… It's a … -ip," crackles over the comms.

"Say again Bones," repeats Jim looking at Uhura for answers. He's on his feet; pacing would look too much like worry so he stands by his chair and presses the comm. button extra hard- just in case.

Uhura tries to clear up the signal, turning dials and flipping channels.

"… evacu- … emerg…"

"Can you get a lock on them yet," demands Jim, unease growing deep in his gut. Desperation is fighting to crack his skilfully carved command face. Jim tilts his head to the side station signalling Chekov to help work on boosting the transport signal over the interference.

"Captain," yells Spock jumping to his feet, realization dawning on him like a glacial shower of dread. "The vessel is actually Orion."

"Get the away team out of there, now," demands Jim, frantically turning to Uhura. She's quick to open a communication channel to the away team and issue the emergency order to get off the ship. There's no response leaving the bridge crew to watch helplessly as the vessel jumps to warp, leaving only one of the shuttles drifting in its wake.

"Mayday, mayday," echoes over the open comm. in Scotty's voice. "It' was a trap. That slave ship just warped away with half of our people."

One year later

The cool chlorinated water rolls down Jim's face as he sucks in a needed breath. Gliding through the water he touches the end of the pool, turning to go back the other way. It's around lap seventy that his arms and lungs start to burn; a slight improvement from the month before, and the month before that. He pushes on, aiming for one hundred laps; never more, never less. It's a good way to start the morning, which always seems to come far too early.

Technically the start of his morning is re-watching the incident interviews. He doesn't know what he expects to find. He's watched them a million times. He knows them word for word now, as familiar as a favourite song and as painful as a death dirge. Still, he prays for that one piece of information that's somehow eluded him and will shine a light on all the answers.

It's one of the reasons he started swimming. He can get lost in the rhythmic motion and let his mind wander, turning the information over for new angles. He needs an outlet for this simmering rage that's been threatening to spill over into a full on boil. Time is not doing the trick. To be fair it's also the real reason he started swimming. All that anger came to a head in the gym, getting him kick out and banned from the boxing ring for breaking Lieutenant Michaels's face. Michaels hadn't done anything wrong other than agree to spar with Jim, to work through whatever was eating at Jim that morning. It was strongly recommended Jim take up a new hobby, preferably one less violent and a little more solitary.

Jim touches the start wall for the hundredth time, letting his body assume a more horizontal position. He bobs there for a moment, taking regular steady breaths before pulling his goggles off. A rather well polished black standard issue boot is resting at the edge of the pool. Jim's gaze follows the intruding boot up towards the well tailored pant leg and up to the unmistakable uniform shirt. Jim's surprised that the only emotion his body seems compelled to feel at his surprise guest is irritation.

"Good morning, Captain," greets the Vulcan in his usual precise and bland tone.

"I'm not your captain anymore, Spock," grumbles Jim, pulling himself out of the pool. His temper is costing him everything lately.

Spock tips his head to the side. "Captain Pike's command of the Enterprise is only temporary," reminds Spock. Neither acknowledges that the temporary has dragged on for six months now, well passed the proposed three months it was estimated it would take to find the missing crew members. "That is why I have come here today."

"Save it," says Jim tiredly. It's bordering on cruel now. Hope is slowly poisoning his soul. He goes to reach for his towel sitting on the bench finding it isn't there anymore. Spock holds out the towel and Jim snatches it back, rubbing down his hair. "Everybody's got a lead and they all go nowhere. We've recovered four of our people and dozens more kidnapped Federation citizens, but none of them are Bones. I'm sure you'll go and rescue dozens more but the common theme will be they won't be Bones either." It's almost like the universe delights in taking away the people Jim holds dear.

In the beginning there was no shortage of sightings and leads; nothing that panned out to the satisfactory conclusion Jim was looking for- his missing people, home and safe, all of them. He lost eight people that day and one confirmed dead on the remaining shuttle. The first month they managed to find three- two alive and another dead. It took two more months to find one more of the missing Enterprise crew member. Everyone told Jim he should be grateful he even recovered four crew members from slavers. Jim doesn't feel very lucky, especially when one of the four remaining missing crew is McCoy. Jim would like to think he would have fought that relentlessly for any one of his crew, but there's this nagging doubt that only Leonard's absence pushed him over the edge. Jim's scared to wonder if he would have put his command in jeopardy if he wasn't so hell bent on finding his friend.

The search has gone pretty cold since Pike took over command, after Jim beat the Orion prisoner half to death in a bid for answers. They grounded Jim for that, taking the greatest weapon in his arsenal for searching away from him. That interrogation led to the recovery or one more crew member and seven other Starfleet officers taken from another ship, so Jim doesn't feel all that bad for it. It wasn't Leonard though. He knows Pike has kept the search active for as long as possible, looking for clues around Starfleet assigned missions which started three month ago for the Enterprise. Everyone seems to have moved on- not Jim.

Jim could be back in the Captain's seat but his return to the Enterprise is contingent on not actively resuming the search. Starfleet can no longer allocate resources for three missing members.

Jim throws his towel over his shoulder and starts to walk away.

"This lead is about Dr McCoy."

Jim stops cold. A moment of weakness over takes him. He wants so desperately to soak up every detail, to know without a doubt this will be the time Leonard comes home. Deep down he knows that isn't true. They've been chasing a ghost for months now. The universe is infinite and the slavery network vast and secretive. Leonard is either dead or so lost in it, he'll never be found.

That thought keeps Jim up at night- Leonard out there somewhere, waiting for Jim to find him. He tries not to imagine what horrors Leonard is being made to endure, but he's read the reports about the experiences of Orion slaves. After the first month, death is always preferable. Jim fervently hopes Leonard was granted mercy in whatever form it may take.

Jim can't endure pretending a happy ending is going to take shape. Jim takes a deep breath, fortifying his resolve. His hand clenches tightly around his towel. "Talk to me when you bring him home." Jim walks away, never looking back. He doubts he will see Spock again.

Jim lines his cue stick up with the cue ball, pulling it back several times as he double checks for a better shot, before committing with a definitive thunk. The ball shoots forward on course sending the seven ball on its journey home before courting the five ball into the corner pocket. He washes down his success with a gulp from his condensation laden mug.

"So this is what you're doing with your life?" asks Pike with infinite patience. He's getting tired of pulling this kid out of bars and back alleys. Jim has exactly three settings and for the last year, he's pretty much stalled in self destruction mode.

"I wanted to be a captain, but they took my ship," sneers Jim, lining up his next shot. He'd seen Pike walk in, but since Leonard isn't in tow, they have no business to discuss. He told Spock as much two months ago. Jim's full up on lectures and pardons and false hope.

Pike pinches the bridge of his nose. An all too familiar headache is coming on again. "They didn't take your ship," he says, tiredly. They did, but it was supposed to be temporary; until Jim got his shit together and proved he could handle things without going off the handle because it's his friend was among the missing.

"Sure looks like you're sitting in my seat," Jim snaps as he makes another shot. It could have been worse. Pike is more likely to give the Enterprise back than anyone else in Starfleet. It doesn't make it any less painful though, nor does it make Jim any less helpless in his quest to bring Leonard home.

Pike really doesn't want to get into this circular argument again. He can sympathize; there are people in his life he'd do anything for too. But what Jim did, can't be ignored; especially when he refuses to apologise for it and is threatening to do it all again given the chance. Leonard wouldn't want Jim to go down that path. "Aren't you going to ask me how it went?"

Jim makes a show of looking behind Pike for Leonard who still isn't home. The Enterprise left almost two months ago on this latest hunch Spock spoke of. Jim maybe persona non grata with HQ, but he still has a few friends onboard, and they would have sent word if they'd been successful. Jim can't bear to hear anymore pipe dreams. "No," he says returning t his game.

Pike's not sure if he's disappointed in Jim's response or not. It might be for the best; what he has to say is a tough pill to swallow under these circumstances. "We found him."

Something tightens in Jim's gut as his breath catches. Is the appropriate response to laugh or cry? His body can do neither. Instead, "How long has he been…" tumbles out of his mouth before he chokes on the last word. Leonard can only be dead; Pike would be in much better spirits if he was bringing home the doctor alive and whole. This feels like a consolation prize for missing a funeral.

"He's alive," says Pike, solemnly.

That's all Jim needs to hear. He's half way to the door on wings he didn't know he possessed. "What are you waiting for?" asks Jim when Pike isn't hot on his heels. This is all his birthdays and Christmas mornings all rolled into one. He's been waiting a year to wrap his arms around that dumb son of a bitch and tell Leonard that Jim's the only one allowed to play hero like that.

"There's a complication, son," sighs Pike. And isn't that like drop kicking a puppy? He can see Jim wilt from here.

Jim's world starts to narrow and tunnel. He's really starting to hate that endearment.

"You'd better sit down."

Jim doesn't remember running into Starfleet Medical, leaving Pike about half way down the corridor. Or how his path to get to Leonard led him past the Enterprise senior staff, who are all patiently camped out in the waiting area to hear word from the specialized medical team M'Benga had standing by when they returned. The details, of the too white room that screams clinical detachment or the somber faces of the medical assistants as they stand unobtrusively against the wall behind the lead doctor, go unnoticed. All Jim can really see is raggedy black hair poking up and the glass of the observation window that's keeping him from his friend. Leonard's slumped on a bio bed sitting passively while doctors poke and prod. Jim tries to tell himself there's a non horrible reason why Leonard isn't bitching about being a patient and that he can doctor himself far better than these medics that look barely old enough to tie their shoes ever could.

Over a year apart and now only separated by a wall, Jim feels like Leonard is still galaxies away. For all that it looks like Leonard, undernourished and battle worn, it's like looking at a stranger. That spark of life wrapped protectively in grumpy concern is gone leaving a bland lump of clay yet to be sculpted. Jim watches the assessment, desperate to find any glimpse of his best friend.

It will be okay, he tells himself. A year at the hands of slavers is bound to leave anyone a little shell shocked and out of sorts. This doesn't mean anything. A little rest and time with his friends and family and Leonard will be as good as new. Jim will be able to get his crew together, his ship back and they can continue on like they never missed a step- Leonard standing behind the captain's chair bitching the whole way.

"Jim, we really need to talk about this," snaps Pike, finally catching up. He grabs Jim by the sleeve, pulling him back to look Pike in the eye.

Jim flinches like he's been burned, staring at Pike's hand like it's a personal betrayal. There's nothing Pike has to say that Jim wants to hear. They're wrong, they're all wrong.

"Captain Kirk?" asks a white lab coat clad individual as they step out into the hall.

Jim nods, unable to find his voice or swallow down the lump in his throat that crept up when he watched that ship jump to warp and has saw fit to stay ever since. Pike hasn't let go of his arm.

"We have a preliminary assessment we'd like to go over with you if we could," says the doctor.

"Jim," warns Pike. There's no turning back once the kid walks into that room and Pike is loath to send him in blind. He tried to explain on the drive to Starfleet medical but the words that he could come up with weren't penetrating Jim's head past Leonard is alive. He knows M'Benga's assessment intimately and doubts this team is going to find anything different.

Jim yanks his arm free and glares like he's facing off against an enemy. All he can see is the gold uniform from an organization that was instrumental in stopping him from finding Leonard in a timely manner. Every minute, Leonard wasn't safe onboard the Enterprise is a personal failure on Jim's part, further amplified by the shackles Starfleet placed on him during the search. Whatever diagnosis awaits, it can't be any worse then what Leonard's survived. He failed to protect Leonard and thus has forfeited any protection anyone wants to offer him now.

Jim holds his head high and marches behind the doctor towards the firing squad.

"Our test results have concluded there's significant brain damage…" explains the doctor, once he corrals Jim into a private office.

The room dulls out in a murky grey haze. The doctor's steady litany of long term prognosis and specialized care facilities slows and mutes until it just sounds like the thudding of Jim's heart. Eventually that fades into a buzzing that grows louder and louder until it's the only thing in existence.

Every horror mentioned is like a knife slicing through Jim's skin, flaying him alive and carving him up in some mockery of a man. It will never cut deep enough though to adequately punish him for his failings. Jim played captain and his best friend paid for it.

The thing is, it can't be this bad, it just can't, because this is McCoy they're talking about; Leonard who's always cautious, and preaching safety and warnings while Jim's jumping blindly into fires. There's a symmetry to the universe, Leonard heals and protects people and Jim takes the risks, plays the hero with the glory and the guts, because he knows Leonard will catch him. Jim goes out in the blaze of glory because that's all he has; Leonard lives the long and happy life because he has everything worth living for. The universe got this one wrong- it should be Jim in that examination room.

The words that do stick out are "barbaric" and "lobotomy gone wrong." Time becomes incomprehensibly long, giving birth to universes and watching them die in the space between breaths, while somehow feeling like a sieve that could never hold on to a second of time. Jim watches his life play out in thousands of scenarios only to have each one wash away as the tidal wave of despair crashes down and reshapes the beach after it capsizes Jim's ship.

"Do you have any questions so far?"

Questions? Of course he has questions, millions of them. And only one person he'd trust for the answers. Jim sits there numbly. He can't convince his lips to form a single thought. He manages to minutely shake his head. Leonard chose him to be his medical proxy and he can't figure out a single thing to do or the right course of action here. Jim's just waiting to wake up on a barroom floor nursing a killer hangover and forget this alcohol endued nightmare ever happened.

He has the full mission report and corroborating medical reports in his hand and he can't bring himself to read past the first line to get at all the gory details. Jim's done his fair share or research over the last year into the conditions and experiences of Orion slaves. It was unsettling reading the information then, now when he actually has to lay eyes on the final result of that kind of treatment it's all become unimaginable.

"Can I see him?" asks Jim. Maybe they're wrong and when Jim walks in there Leonard will light up and ask what the hell took so damn long to find him? Jim will take Leonard home, stuff a hot meal in him and tuck him into bed, camping out on the couch until Leonard decides he wants to talk about what happened with Jim. Leonard's one of the most stubborn and resilient people Jim's met; if anyone can survive that hell, it's Leonard.

None of that happens when Jim walks in. The nurses and medics looks up, offering sad smiles like Jim's come to pay his respects to a terminal family member. Leonard doesn't look at him. In fact, Leonard doesn't make eye contact with anyone. His eyes stay glued to the floor with this blank impassive look on his face.

"Bones?" he says in this small broken voice that sounds like it belongs to someone else. Hope lives and dies on that word. Leonard doesn't crack a smile or even look up at Jim; he just continues his impersonation of a blob.

Jim can't help himself, his fingers are twitching, feet moving and his damn brain has forgotten how to breathe or adhere to basic social norms. He crosses the room in four quick steps wrapping his arms firmly around Leonard and squeezing him tightly. There's something therapeutic in feeling Leonard's solid bones, even if he's underweight now, and smelling that faint smell that is uniquely Leonard that no time in captivity could steal away. It feels so safe and right hugging Leonard, like the troubles of the world are vanquished. Jim never wants to let go.

He also wants to puke. Leonard doesn't reciprocate. His harms hang loosely at his sides and his gaze stays firmly adverted as he holds his breath in anticipation of something he expects Jim to do. Tension creeps up in Leonard's shoulders as he starts to hold his breath. Jim reluctantly lets go but stays in within arm's reach. Jim tries again, gentle and slow, "Bones?"

Nothing. It's like Leonard doesn't even hear him. "Leonard."

"Dr M'Benga says he had some success with using McCoy," offers one of the nurses in a sweet voice with a pity smile that Jim loathes in situations like this.

Jim wants to cry. It feels like he's falling down a cliff and there's nothing to grab on to. "McCoy," he tries. For the first time that name feels foreign in his mouth.

Leonard flinches like he expects Jim to hit him but refuses to look up. If anything he shrinks in on himself even more.

"McCoy, look at me," says Jim in the softest tone he can manage. He needs some sign that his best friend is in there.

A pained whine escapes Leonard but he reluctantly looks up. His bangs, which are longer than usual, flop haphazardly in his face. They aren't long enough to hide the look of anticipated terror Leonard has, like a wounded animal cornered, staring at an approaching death blow.

Jim feels like a stranger is looking back at him. There isn't even the faintest hint of recognition there. If anything there's fear and apprehension swirling in those forest green eyes, like Jim's just another person in a long line of people that have abused his friend. "Do you remember me?" he asks. "Do you know who I am?"

Silence is the only answer and it's crushing. Leonard sits there and stares at Jim, like it's Jim who's acting unusual.

After a few moments of awkward silence and being unable to look away, Leonard starts to fidget slightly. He wants to keep still like he's supposed to, but no one is telling him what they want. He doesn't know what is expected of him here and that's dangerous. Another whine builds in the back of his throat.

It hits Jim that Leonard is afraid of him. The quivering lip and tear laden eyes are a part of genuine fear Leonard has – of Jim. Jim, who's spent many nights dragging Leonard to every bar to help Leonard get over his ex-wife. Of Jim, who devoted every Sunday afternoon to helping Leonard get over his aviophobia by running shuttle simulations with him. Jim- whom Leonard risked his career for when he smuggled Jim onboard the Enterprise.

Jim's brain can't even process what is happening. This should be a happy day. He's been waiting for Leonard to come home for a year but what they brought back isn't his friend. He wants to protest, to say they made some sort of mistake. This is someone else. It's not. Behind the slightly gaunt face, underweight frame and vacant eyes, Jim knows he's looking at the shadow of his best friend. It feels like losing Leonard all over again. They brought home a ghost.

"We're just going to take him to run some more in depth scans," explains the nurse as she gently moves Jim out of the way.

"Yeah," Jim agrees, standing there utterly useless as they wheel Leonard out of the room. He stumbles out of the room; it hurts too much to stare at the now empty biobed.

Now that the doctor has disappeared, Jim's brain is stock piling questions. Not just medical questions either, he wants answers from everyone. Why didn't they tell him when they found Leonard? What kind of sick fucks would do this to someone? Did they do it intentionally? Why? Who? What? The hallway begins to spin uncontrollably.

Someone grabs his arm and kindly pulls him to the nearest bench. "You should sit down," says Christine. She rubs soothing circles against his back as Jim tries to stop himself from hyperventilating.

"He's not Leonard anymore," manages Jim around choppy gasps. "They lobotomized him." Saying it out loud is as painful a revelation as actually seeing it in person.

"I heard," says Christine, pained. She's done more than hear, she was on shift when the landing party brought the rescued slaves back. Leonard had been worse then, more desperate animal with mangy hair and pained whimpers than top Federation surgeon. It wasn't until the DNA sample confirmed it, did she even realize she was doing the intake work up on her former boss.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do here," he confesses, letting his head hang down. He threads his fingers through his hair, letting his nails dig into his scalp. The pain is the only thing that seems real. Of all of the outcomes he envisioned, this wasn't one of them. He didn't prepare for this at all. There was no course on what to do when your best friend is destroyed mentally because of your inability to recognize the enemy between interstellar cartography and the history of diplomacy.

"We can help you," says Christine, still rubbing circles against Jim's back.

That we rings hollow. We weren't responsible for the away team that day. We didn't put Leonard in that away team. We didn't fail to realize it was a trap in time. We aren't responsible for the care of the living ghost that was brought back with Leonard's name and face but not his soul. Jim's self incrimination turns to anger. No one told him Leonard was found until the Enterprise returned to Earth; that's two weeks the crew knew what they found and didn't tell, didn't give him time to prepare. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" he demands.

Christine's hand stills. "M'Benga wanted to be sure." They were hopeful at first. Perhaps it was just trauma from being held captive for a year, that intense therapy and time could heal his spirit. As the test results started coming in, it became clear surgical intervention would be required. All too soon it became apparent that M'Benga and perhaps modern medicine entirely lacked the ability to repair what had been barbarically done.

"It took M'Benga two weeks to come up with a diagnosis? Pike might need to start looking for a more competent CMO," says Jim, bitterly. It's not fair, Geoffrey is a competent doctor, Leonard wouldn't have served with anything less, but Jim's not interested in fairness or kindness right now; not when both have been denied Leonard for so long. This was his real life Kobayashi Maru and he failed.

"The Captain, Captain Pike," corrects Christine, "wanted to wait until we reached Earth and M'Benga could confer with actual specialists to be sure it was irreversible before you were informed. We thought it would be better if everyone was certain before telling you."

Jim doesn't feel better about it. In fact he misses not having the opportunity to wrap himself protectively in the warm soft blanket of hope and denial. Now there's nowhere to hide in the harsh cold spot light of irrefutable fact and prognosis.

"What did the doctor say exactly?" she asks.

Jim holds up the PADD the doctor gave him helplessly. He wasn't paying attention once the word irreparable brain damage was launched into his head.

Christine takes the PADD, and skims though the report. It's pretty much what M'Benga had concluded. It's a grim report with not much room to sugar coat anything. It's filled with so much medical jargon, that even when Jim does pull himself together, the report is pretty much useless to him. It makes her miss her boss even more. He was grumpy and irritable but he knew who to put patients at ease and reassure them all. Leonard would have presented this report completely different; made it more sympathetic and to the point in terms the family could understand.

"There's a list of medical centers here that can take Leonard for rehabilitation. They seem to think he has the potential to rebuild enough motor function and behaviours that he can do basic things like feed and dress himself. Perhaps he could even rebuild some basic vocabulary," she says. "I could ask around to see which one is the best, but I have heard good things about this one." Christine points to one of the facilities on the list as she hands the PADD back to Jim.

"You mean put him in a care facility?" asks Jim, a little horrified. He's lost Leonard once, dumping him in some cold medical facility in the care of strangers seems no less cruel than leaving him in the hands of the slavers that did this to him. It's also the act of certainty that things won't get better; that Leonard's gone and he's never coming back.

"He needs round the clock supervision and personalized care. Finding a long term care home seems the only real option and in Leonard's best interest," says Christine, softly.

It doesn't feel like it's in Leonard's best interest. It feels like it's in everybody else's best interest to dump the permanent reminder of their failure somewhere out of sight and out of mind. Jim lets out a long breath. "Maybe."

Jim knows the way to Leonard's room; he's worn a familiar path there. Pike and M'Benga combined their collective influence to secure a room for Leonard in Starfleet Medical until Jim can make other more beneficial arrangements. Christine's even inserted herself into the nursing rotation so she can take a shift with Leonard.

"How's he doing today?" he asks as Christine exits the room making sure it locks behind her.

"He's sedated," she says apologetically. "Tried another escape attempt and as a result cut his hand up pretty good."

That's a punch in the gut. State of the art facility and still Leonard isn't completely safe. It's all self inflicted by desperate attempts to get away from people in lab coats and strangers. Apparently even a lobotomy couldn't erase the trauma of the whole ordeal, prompting a deep distrust and terror of medical in Leonard. This used to be his safe space.

The heavy sedation days are to keep Leonard from trying to flee. He's not running to anything, just trying to get away from the people tasked with helping. Jim had security let him go one day just to see if there was some part of Leonard trying to reach out, something he was looking for that they weren't providing. They tested the theory six times and every time Leonard just found somewhere new to hide.

The lighter sedation days are to just calm him since people in general elicit a fear response from him. He follows basic commands like sit and stay when someone's in the room like a dog. Jim has a sinking suspicion he knows a few other commands he doesn't have the stomach to test based on aborted movements and weird glances from Leonard when Jim enters the room.

Christine doesn't have to say it. Her pained smile and sad eyes are all the incrimination Jim needs. A specialized facility would be better than here; Jim just can't bring himself to commit to that yet. It's like admitting defeat, that Leonard's gone and there's no coming back. At least here at medical, Jim can delude himself into believing they're working on something to fix this- that the human brain isn't still the mystery they claim.

"I'm working on finding a place," sighs Jim. He just sees the whole thing as packing Leonard away in a box to be forgotten about while everyone else gets to move on.

"I know. He'll be glad to see you," she says, pulling the clips out of her hair. Her shift ended hours ago, but like Jim, she has a hard time leaving Leonard completely alone.

Jim wants to laugh. Leonard never seems glad to see any of them. Instead he says, "Enjoy your day off," before entering Leonard's room.

The lights are low but not off. Jim can see Leonard watching him wearily from his prone position on his cot. Leonard can be sedated with enough drugs to take down an elephant and still he keeps an intense visual on anyone in his space. Jim can tell the difference between light and heavy sedation based on whether Leonard tries to crawl under the bed or crouches on the corner versus times like this where he's physically incapable of doing anything other than glare at Jim.

"Heard you might have had a rough morning," he says claiming the chair in the corner. Jim likes to fill silences with his own voice. If he isn't doings something worth talking about, he employs the use of his gift for conversation. None of that swagger and charm works here.

God he'd give anything for Leonard to tell him to report to medical for a physical or quit spending all night drinking.

"Shady Acres is nice," informs Jim. "If you like that we're trying not to look like a prison sort of vibe." This morning's facility was a bust in his books. He didn't even bother to entertain the invitation for the virtual tour of the Vulcan run facility on Slatier IV. Leonard would kill him for even considering it. He can hear it now- the last thing a human with mental problems needs is to be stuck in a room with emotionally constipated Vulcans.

"Tomorrow's appointment might go better. It's a place down south. Not quite Georgia but close enough. Figured that might appeal to you." Jim's not sure if it would or not. For all Leonard speaks fondly of his upbringing in Georgia and what life was like there until his divorce, he never returned after joining Starfleet except for his mother's funeral.

Leonard doesn't support or deter the idea. He just lays there staring impassively at Jim.

"If you tell me what to do, I'll do it," whispers Jim. "It could be anything from get me a peach cobbler to go to hell, Jim and I'll make it happen." And he would. He'd do anything to hear that southern drawl again.

Leonard doesn't seem inclined to indulge him but there does seem to be a bit of condemnation in his eyes.

"I'm getting tired of picking you up off of the ground in back alleyways and barrooms," says Pike with clear disapproval written on his face.

Jim's getting tired of regaining consciousness with this speech but here they are. He rolls over on to his side to make getting up off the floor easier. It's much further down when he's trying to get up under his own power then when he's being punched out. The room is still a little wobbly so he couldn't have been out for that long.

Pike's quick to grab a table and order a water which he pushes over to Jim with a large stack of napkins. He levels the disappointed dad look at Jim which is becoming as tiresome as having to look for the kid most nights.

Jim stretches then pinches his bottom lip as he pulls away the cold, wet, bunched paper towel he's using to stop the bleeding. It doesn't feel too bad so the split can't be that big. "Yeah, well nobody asked you to," he says bitterly.

Pike looks heaven ward and shakes his head. He thought he was missing out by skipping his chance at having kids of his own; Jim's enough of a handful to sate that need for nine lifetimes. "Do you even know what today is?" he asks, trying to avoid all the pitfalls and traps of previous mornings. They can't keep doing this dance. Pike's not sure he has it in him to watch Jim wither and die like this.

"Ummmm," hums Jim, making a show of appearing to think about it. "Thursday?" is his sarcastic reply. Days don't hold meaning anymore; one is just like the next on an endless loop. Pike's time is best served elsewhere. Why he has to constantly show up and ruin Jim's day and buzz is beyond him. It's not like Jim isn't attending his duties. He spends an hour at Starfleet performing his light duties assignments, then checks in with Leonard and his medical team before lunch. After lunch Jim tours rehab facilities though his heart isn't in it.

There's one facility in the Galiao system that specializes in the rehabilitation of Orion slaves; it checks all the medical and care boxes on Jim's hastily made list. The only downfall is location. It's four weeks from Earth which means unless Jim transfers to a nearby space station it's four weeks away from his current posting or if he gets his ship back, infinitely out of reach.

Jim tries not to think to hard about that. Nobody's said anything about his command and he's afraid to ask. Does he even want it anymore? What is he going to do without it? How does his being on a ship impact Leonard? It's more pieces of a puzzle Jim's struggling to put together.

Then there's Leonard's daughter, Joanna. Can Jim put her father that far out of reach? Jocelyn made it difficult for Leonard to see her on Earth, Jim highly doubts Jocelyn will be travelling that far to let Joanna see Leonard. So he keeps looking for the next best place while he avoids any decisions regarding his life. So this little intervention is unnecessary.

"It's the awards ceremony for McCoy today," lectures Pike, knowing full well Jim's aware. "Of which you are obligated to attend," he adds with extra bite. He can tolerate the childish antics so long, but Jim's used up any leniency Pike has.

Jim snorts, surveying the table for any dredges of liquid hiding in the multitude of glasses. "Don't think Bones has a lot of uses for fancy medals anymore." The whole show is just so Starfleet can pat themselves on the back and claim another hero in their name. Leonard wasn't a hero because of his Starfleet training, he was a damn hero because that's who he is as a person.

It's not like Leonard is even going to be there to receive the honor. For all intents and purpose, it's being awarded posthumously. Leonard's in no condition to attend a ceremony and he certainly won't understand why they're trying to pin something to his shirt. Today is about a medal that will sit in a box for a person that doesn't seem to exist anymore. "And I don't think anyone wants me there."

"That's not the point. And you're right, they don't want drunk repeat offender fresh off a bender and a stint in the brig to show up anywhere. They would like Captain James T Kirk to make an appearance because the day demands it." Jim hasn't exactly been exemplifying the best of Starfleet the past year, particularly the last few weeks. Going out and getting drunk every night since Leonard's rescue hasn't gone unnoticed by Pike, the brass or security.

Jim shakes his head. He's not a captain, he doesn't have a ship. And even if he did, it seems in poor taste to have the person responsible for putting Leonard in the hands of his captors show up to honor him. "That's not a place I should be."

"This is what's going to happen," barks Pike in that low, calm deadly tone he uses on the bridge. "You are going to clean yourself up, put on a fresh uniform and attend that ceremony on time. You will stand there and you will salute at all the appropriate times because McCoy's sacrifice demands no less and because his damn daughter will in attendance and we will show her the respect her father has commanded. And if you can't do that, then don't come back, Jim." The warning is clear. Pike will not watch Jim self-destruct any longer and he will not tolerate it affecting anyone else.

"I think Joanna would be better served by my not attending," says Jim sourly. He hasn't even seen her since he told her Leonard was missing. So far it's been recommended that she refrain from visiting until they get Leonard acclimated and settled somewhere.

"You out of everyone there are probably someone that can relate to her best. You both lost your fathers."

"That's different. Mine died. Bones is still… She gets to live with a ghost." Jim's not sure who's better off.

"And you live in the shadow of one." Pike's quiet for a moment, choosing his words careful like a well planned attack. "Today isn't about you or me or even McCoy in this case. It's about showing that little girl that the price that was paid means something. What we do matters and we can't lose sight of that. McCoy's actions kept his crewmates safe. There are families that get to embrace their loved ones because of what he did."

"It shouldn't have been him." It should have been me, gets caught up in Jim's throat as tears start to slowly roll.

"But it was. Your father saved over seven hundred lives with ten minutes of command. He didn't do it because he didn't want to be here with you and your mother, he did it because it was what needed to be done. McCoy did the same thing. I can tell you this, neither of them sacrificed so you could throw it all away here."

Leonard steps off the shuttle. The ailing ship is as dark and foreboding as the feeling in his gut. It reminds him of a horror vid he watched once with a group of kids from school. The genera's never appealed to him, he's seen the horrors of what people can do to one another up close and the ravages of invisible foes as they drain the vibrancy out of the living; he doesn't need to see some reality suspending slasher running around in a rubber mask to get his thrills. He watched that vid with the same criticism he's applied to his life- why would anyone walk into certain death when it's presented as a dark creepy cemetery on Halloween night? Those mindless adults playing teenagers had it coming. And yet, he steps onto this ship that's bathed in ominous red lighting, acidic smoke and phaser damaged walls with the delusion he's going to remain alive. He probably owes those movies an apology.

He tries to push his unease aside, reminding himself that lives are on the line. His medical team doesn't look any steadier than him. Pulling in a steadying breath, his game face slips in place. He flourishes under pressure, a doctor can't afford not to.

Through the smoke Leonard catches a glimpse of something flesh like poking out from under a sheet of metal that used to be a panel cover. Chapel is at his side quickly, helping him to free the entrapped body. He has a diagnosis before he even runs the scanner over the body, but he has to be sure. He gently shakes his head for confirm the suspicion of the away team that's gathered round looking for good news. "He's dead," says Leonard regretfully.

"Alright," yells Scotty over the moans and groans of the ship and the hisses and whines of broken pipes and vents. "I need two of ya to work your way down to engineering with me and see if we can't stabilize the engines." He looks at his four engineers for volunteers.

"Three teams," orders Leonard parting his medics by waving his hand. Divide and conquer to find and help as many people as possible. Hopefully there are people still left to save. "I'll head to the bridge, see if anyone is up there," informs Leonard. "Second team, try to find your way to the crew quarters."

"Right," agrees Scotty. "I want an engineer and security officer with each medical team to help them open doors and get through corridors," he instructs. "Be careful. If ye run into trouble head back to the shuttles immediately."

The three teams head make their way through the ship in search of life. Leonard hears Scotty open a channel to the Enterprise as they start to separate. "Two dead bodies in the docking area. Taking half the medical team with me to the front of the ship," adds Leonard. It appears his warning about today was spot on, he just didn't give it to the right crew.

The ships a maze of twisting corridors that they navigate with nothing more than honest to god guess work. The scanners aren't picking up any life signs or readings of any kind. There's a low level interference disrupting their systems that the engineer that's tagging along can't identify or rectify.

"Where is everybody?" asks Chapel, shining her wrist light around. There's an unease in her voice that they all share.

The hell if Leonard knows. Surely they should have run into someone by now.

"Maybe they all made it off the ship?" suggests security officer Ainsley.

"Maybe," says Leonard, leading them further towards what he hopes is the bridge. They go down another couple of corridors before they hit the securely closed door of the bridge. Leonard swipes his hand in front of the sensor. Nothing. He tries pushing the open button. Still nothing.

"Let me try," volunteers engineer Brite as he pushes his way to the front of the line. "Give me a hand," he adds to the security officer.

Leonard stands back as the pair start to take the control panel for the door off. Between the banging and discouraging sparking sounds is something out of place. He tilts his head and strains his ears to try and catch the sound again. It's probably his mind playing tricks on him, using the eerie atmosphere and his abundance of imagination to concoct something that isn't there.

The gentle whimper is definitely there, but where exactly? Leonard takes a few steps down a side corridor, waving off Chapel as she looks at him curiously. It could be nothing, and they need to keep going to the bridge; it will just take him a second to check out.

The crying gets more pronounced the further he goes. He pulls out his tricorder but still no useful readings. He rounds the next corner to find a dead end. Leonard's about to give credence to ghosts when out of the corner of his eye, tucked away in a large storage compartment covered by debris he catches a glimpse of someone's knee.

Slowly he pulls away the sheets of hull plating and ceiling panels. "Well, hello there," Leonard says gently as he kneels down before the raggedy clothed child. She looks to be somewhere between ten and thirteen, not unlike his own little girl. She's dirty, with ratty hair; the trail of tears offering the only real speck of clean green skin. "Are you hurt anywhere," he asks, using his scanner. The personal scanners work up close, though a little slow with this interference.

The girl doesn't answer, just pulls her knees tighter to her chest. She's gone silent in front of Leonard, her tear laden eyes wide and fearful as they watch every move he makes.

He checks his readings. There's no sigh of physical injury but she is malnourished and slightly dehydrated. "Are you alone here?" he asks, looking for signs or anyone else, dead or alive. What is an Orion doing on a Karten ship?

She doesn't answer, just continues to stare like Leonard is the monster from the story that eats babies whole.

"Doctor?" asks Chapel walking up behind Leonard.

Leonard flinches hard, his heart rate speeding up. Apparently the little girl isn't the only one expecting monsters. Regaining his composure he says, "Nurse, this is our new friend…" he trails off hoping the little girl will fill in the blank. She doesn't. Whatever happened here, it must have been horrible.

"Does she need medical assistance?" asks Chapel keeping her distance so the little girl doesn't feel closed in.

"I think she'll be better with a hot meal and some clean clothes. What do you say? Should we get out of here?" Leonard extends his hand the girl. His mama always told him you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Sure he could throw this urchin over his shoulder but he doubts it will instil any level of trust between them.

She stares at Leonard blankly for a moment. He's just about ready to try another tactic when slowly she extends her small delicate hand towards his, the ominous rattle of the shackle around her wrist ringing out into the dark.

"What the hell," mutters Leonard, looking at the chain binding the girl. No wonder she's scared and hiding; who the hell shackles a child? It snaps into place like a lightning bolt splitting a tree. "It's a trap!" he yells, grabbing the girl in his arms. He pushes a stunned Chapel forward as he breaks out into a run. His team is about to open the doors to the bridge where the ship's occupants are probably waiting for them. "The ship's Orion, don't open the doors!" he screams but it's too late.

Leonard and Chapel hit the main corridor just as the phaser fire starts. "Head back to the shuttles!" orders Leonard, waving his people back with one hand as he holds the girl against his chest with the other. Chapel is running in front of him with fellow medic Ensign Ito. Brite and Ainsley are behind him, returning phaser fire when able as the slavers that were hiding on the bridge, just waiting for their pray to come in close, give chase.

With one hand, Leonard fumbles for his communicator. "Scotty! Get back the shuttles. It was a god damn trap!"

Leonard hears the phaser fire that takes Ainsley down. He looks over his shoulder to see if Ainsley is still alive, not that it would do much good. He can't afford to stop. The girl he's carrying will never outrun this hoard and despite her small stature, Chapel or Ito will never be able to carry her and stay ahead. It kills him to leave someone behind, but right now he has to save as many as possible.

"Bones, any survivors yet?" asks Jim, impatiently from the safety of the Enterprise bridge.

Right, Jim's waiting for a report on what's supposed to be desperate survivors. "Jim there's Orion slavers here. It's a slave ship," spits Leonard over the comms. It crackles and fizzes, succumbing to whatever the slavers are using to mask their signals and interfere with the Enterprise's sensors.

"Say again Bones," repeats Jim.

"Emergency evacuation, repeat we need an emergency evacuation," Leonard replies, desperately. If ever he needed that monstrosity of engineering called the transporter to work, it's now.

The docking section finally comes into view and with it the blessed addition of other members of the away team. The other security officers are divided, firing in different directions to try and hold their ground. They're surrounded; their only hope is to get on the damn shuttles and separate from the ship.

Leonard feels the sharp sting across his leg the same second he loses his balance, tumbling to the ground. The sharp bite of metal teeth rips through his shin as one of the slavers yanks back his whip like tool. The girl goes tumbling down with Leonard, hitting the ground and rolling out of his reach.

Leonard scrambles to his feet, his right leg tender, aching and unsteady now forcing him to run with a limp. Chapel turns to head back but Leonard waves her on.

The girl, slightly stunned by the fall, shakes her head as she sits up. The sight of Leonard charging towards her followed by a squad of slavers hot on his heels sends her scurrying to the side of the corridor. With nimble fingers she pries open one of the vent covers and crawls in.

Leonard slides to a stop in front of the vent. "We have to go sweetheart," he pleads reaching in for the girl that reminds him of his own daughter. She folds herself half and scoots back even further. Leonard's too big to go in after her and now she's out of reach. "Please, we have to get out of here. My people can keep you safe," he promises.

It's a short lived promise. One of his pursuers hits him like a rocket sending both of them sprawling over the deck. A little quicker to recover, Leonard's attacker begins grabbing at him for any spot to get a good grip on for leverage as he socks Leonard in the face.

Leonard believes in the virtues of a fair fight but not when fighting for his and the lives of his crew. Studying anatomy has its perks and Leonard is quick to bring his knee up hard into the Orion's genital area. The Orion rolls over howling before Officer Greer stuns him with a phaser blast.

"I told you to get on a shuttle," says Leonard as Chapel's there helping him to his feet. Chapel just glares at him the same way he glares junior officers that say something incredibly stupid. Leonard spares a quick glance back towards the vent. He wants to go back and try and pull the girl out but his people are being overrun. Painful he gives into Chapel's tug on his arm, following her back towards the shuttles.

Thank god Scotty's alright. He's helping battered away team members climb into one of the shuttles as the last two standing security officers dole out cover fire. "Where is everybody?" asks Leonard doing a quick head count.

"Everybody got split up," says Scotty solemnly. "Reager didn't make it." He points to the badly wounded officer slumped in the corner of the shuttle. Orion Slaver like to take captives but they don't like resistance and they can't afford to have survivors out there giving away their secrets.

Leonard has a feeling there's more Starfleet bodies lying dead on this ship somewhere.

A sharp metal spear embeds itself in the haul platting just past Scotty's head. "It's time to go, Doctor," he says. It's a hell of a thing to leave crew members behind but they just can't hold this position and go looking for the remaining crew that hasn't managed to fall back yet.

Just their luck the salvers would resort to medieval weaponry in conjunction to phasers. A phaser just isn't a match for arrows or crudely made swords in close combat. Scotty fires, taking down one of the salvers who gets absorbed by the mob trying to pierce their perimeter.

Leonard turns as Chapel screams, a large battle clad Orion trying to pull her back into the mob. Leonard took an oath to do no harm, that doesn't he doesn't know how to. His hand closes into a tight fist as he clocks the thug with a vicious right hook. Jim's not the only one that can hold his own in a bar fight. It takes four punches to free Chapel from the thug's grip and though Leonard's knuckles are aching and his hand feels like something's probably broken, he delivers one more, just to be sure. The Orion staggers back, unsteady on his feet.

Leonard uses his momentum to grab Chapel and swing her towards the shuttle. With a shove, he pushes her past the airlock doors to relative safety.

Not taking kindly to losing his pray, the Orion grabs Leonard by the back of the shirt, yanking him back. The fabric around his throat tightens leaving Leonard no choice but to step back. He blocks the first punch with his arm but raising his arm leaves his midsection an easy target for the Orion's next blow. The hit drives the air from his lungs bringing him to his knees.

Armed with the only weapon at his disposal, Leonard grabs his tricorder and swings it hard at the Orion's head. The silver metal makes a sickening crack against the thug's skull as the Orion tumbles to the ground. Leonard doesn't lament the headache he'll have when he regains consciousness.

"We have ta go, McCoy!" shouts Scotty, ducking into the shuttle.

Leonard makes it five steps before he hear it. "Wait. We're coming!" He turns and sees one of his nurses Evelyn Xanders with engineer Clark's arm slung over her shoulder from the third search team, trying desperately to get to the shuttle.

Leonard's five steps away from safety. He knows those two aren't going to make it, but those are his people- his nurse that he assigned to away team rotation today. He locks eyes with Chapel and they know at the same moment what desperate foolish idea crosses Leonard's mind.

Five steps to safety.

Five steps.

Five.

Leonard takes the five steps towards the shuttle and hits the button to seal the door. "Doctor McCoy!" screams Chapel as the shuttle door starts to close. Scotty can't wait any longer, the shuttle will be over run and none of them will get to go home. Leonard can't in good conscious leave his nurse here alone with these slavers. His people are prisoners here and they're going to need a commanding officer and more importantly a doctor.

"I'm not leaving them here," shouts Leonard over his shoulder as he moves closer to his people. It's a foolish move. He has people counting on him to return home: friends, family, his daughter, Jim. How's he supposed to look them in the eye, if he just leaves good people here alone?

He reaches them, throwing Clark's other arm over his shoulder but it's too late. The Orion ship goes to warp just as the shuttle disengages from the ship.

"Uncle Jim," calls Joanna, excited to see an adult she knows. Her blue dress ripples and sparkles in the afternoon sun as her white satin shoes carry her through the gathering of staunch Captains and stodgy Admirals towards the one familiar face.

Jim wipes the tears from his eyes with his gloved hand before he turns around; a big fake smile plastered on his face. She comes in fast and hard, wrapping her arms around his hips and burying her face in his stomach as she hugs him tightly. His hands fall on her shoulders, resting gently on the lavish locks of hair cascading out from the silver scrunchie trying its best to tame the thick hair.

"I'm so glad to see to you," she mumbles into his dress shirt. Of all the adults in her life Jim is always the most fun. He's a big kid that's willing to play and even convinces daddy to forgo the rules.

Jim wonders if she'll feel that way when she's older and able to understand exactly what Jim's role in things was or when she actually realizes what she's lost. "Hey Joanna."

"Mom's letting me take a month off from school. It's been great. I got to spend a week with grandma and grandpa and then we went to Paris," she says with an enthusiasm for life Jim wishes he could still feel. Her bubbly good mood becomes more somber as she asks, "When do I get to see my daddy and give him this?" She holds out the box containing Leonard's recently awards medal for bravery like she's not entirely sure what to do with, just that it belongs to her father.

"I don't…" starts Jim at a complete loss.

"He was away for a year and now it's been months," she protests, tilting her head in an adorable rendition of the same irritated stance her father takes when he's about to scold Jim for doing something idiotic. "We're supposed to have cupcakes together on our birthdays and we missed it last year. It's going to be his birthday again soon. No offense Uncle Jim, but eating one with you wasn't the same." She says it so plainly, like Jim's the one who's not caught up on how things should go.

Jim has to agree, he's a poor substitution. Since Leonard often didn't have physical access to Joanna on her birthday he resorted to vid call birthday parties. Jim helped him pick up cupcakes once during their academy days, one to arrive at Joanna's home and another for Leonard to eat with her on their call. Leonard even had Jim join them one year. They did cupcakes and watched her open his present.

Since Jim knows a thing or two about parents being absent on his birthday, he made it a point to uphold the tradition. That was back when he thought there was a remote chance of bringing Leonard home; he didn't exactly fulfill that lofty goal. So far they haven't gotten Leonard to cooperate with any kind of instruction or rules or interact in a positive way with any of them. Jim has no idea if the McCoy birthday tradition is even a possibility in the future.

"We'll have to see. Your dad's still not up to seeing people just yet." The words leave a particularly bad taste in his mouth. There's probably a special place in hell for people who lie to adorably sweet children about of all things, their birthday plans.

"I'm not exactly people, I'm his daughter," she chirps like she can't understand why adults can be so dense sometimes.

"Yes, but…"

"Honey, why don't you go over there and explore the garden? I have to talk to Captain Kirk for a moment," interrupts Jocelyn finally making her way through the crowd.

Joanna looks disappointed, her head drooping a little as she slowly walks away to check out the wonders of the Starfleet headquarters conservatory.

Jim would thank Jocelyn for the intervention but the devil never does anything for free. She stands there, just as intimidating as any admiral with her arms crossed but careful not to hide her fresh manicure or the large rock husband number two gifted her with. Jim swears the temperature around them just dropped a few degrees. "It's nice to see you Jocelyn," he tries, aiming for nice but bracing for her to rip his spine from his body.

"Kirk," comes Jocelyn's curt reply.

Jim wonders if her face would crack if she cracked a smile. He'd glanced at the front row during the ceremony a couple times, out of interest or self inflicted torture he isn't sure. Joanna looked board but like the well mannered future representative of high society, handled herself like a champ. Jocelyn on the other hand looked the whole affair was the biggest inconvenience of her life and should be award Leonard's medal just for withstanding the whole affair. Frankly if it wasn't for the social expectation, Jim doubts she would have shown up at all. "So how much does Joanna know?" asks Jim, cutting straight to business. Selfishly, he doesn't want to be the one to explain it to Joanna.

He's played that nightmare out a few times in his head. Why is my daddy like this? Why doesn't he know who I am? Why can't he come home? Why won't he get better? Jim doesn't have the answers, at least none that won't leave a lasting scar. It's bad enough she's lost her father, does Jim really have to give form to the boogeyman that did it, in a world where he father can no longer protect her from such evils?

"Enough, considering we don't know a lot." She looks pointedly at Jim, like he's personally withholding details.

Though, to be fair, he kind of is. The gory details needn't be whispered anywhere other than the deepest, darkest void in space. The rest of it is still a giant question mark hanging over all of their heads. Jim's heard it all; Leonard's current feral animal like state is permanent all the way to the lofty goal of probably being able to feed himself and follow basic social norms; basically, the gamete of junkyard coyote to eternal five year old. He did forward the basic assessment on to Jocelyn as a courtesy to help prepare Joanna. Time will be the judge of where they land on the scale.

"I have a business meeting on Le Terren in two weeks. I'll be dropping Joanna off at the Rebrook Academy on Ulta Four on my way there," says Jocelyn coldly.

"You're sending Joanna to school off world?" asks Jim perplexed. "I thought the custody agreement said…"

"My custody arrangement is none of your concern. Her father isn't here to visit her," says Jocelyn dismissively. "Rebrook Academy is a prestigious school. She'll receive a good education."

"When you dump here there on her own," snipes Jim. Jim knows what it's like to be dumped somewhere as a child and if Leonard isn't capable of being incensed about it, he'll be indignant on behalf of both Leonard and Joanna.

"Stick to captaining your ship and I'll stick to raising my daughter. I would say the terms of our agreement have changed drastically." Jocelyn rolls her eyes as if talking to a simpleton. "I'm sure Joanna would like to see her father before she leaves. I just need to know if we can make that happen. Otherwise she won't be back until the holiday break later this year."

Jim's head is spinning. He has enough deadlines and fires to put out, breaking a little girls heart again isn't on his to do list. Leave it to the wicked witch to kick Leonard when he's down one more time. "I'll run it by Leonard's medical team but I doubt now is a good time, he concedes bitterly. There's nothing to be gained by starting a fight here, especially in front of Joanna.

"You can reach us at the hotel," says Jocelyn before walking off to collect her daughter.

Jim stands there, unable to move. A few members of the brace give him solemn nods as they pass by but Jim can't even convince his body to return the nod. His brain is incapable of forming a plan to combat this curve ball life decided to throw. Jim supposes his first step should be to go visit Leonard and get the resounding no, he's predicting from the supervising doctor.

He turns to walk away before anyone decides to express their sympathies to him for the loss of his officer, and almost walks right into Uhura. "I can't right now," says Jim as she opens her mouth to say all the words that should offer comfort but leave Jim feeling cold and like an imposter. He moves quickly before she has a moment to change tactics and rebut his response.

Jim doesn't know what song is playing but his head is pounding in time with the bass that's cranked to the max. A dance club isn't his usual type of establishment but he and his usual haunt are taking a break for awhile. Apparently the owner's tolerance for his disruptive and costly bar fights has soured her to his presence for awhile. Whatever. It's not the social scene Jim's looking for anyways. He just needs to wash the day away from his memory.

He surveys the crowd until his eyes meet someone else's. The woman smiles coyly, continuing to dance with the group of friends she arrived with. Tucking her hair behind her ear she risks another glance at Jim, her smile becoming bolder as realizes Jim's watching.

Jim pounds back his shot. He can't stomach the idea of going home tonight or being alone so he better act on the opportunity presenting itself. Home is full of ghostly memories that do nothing but rattle their chains all night accompanied by a dark loneliness that swoops in like death and threatens to slowly carve out every inch of his soul and display it as some bloody epitaph to honour Leonard. His thoughts are no better, planting seeds for his dreams to concoct re-enactments of Leonard's hellish existence over the last year.

Jim takes a deep breath, his hand wrapping around the edge of the table he's sitting at as he prepares his alcohol addled brain to turn on the charm and secure him and unknowing warrior against his own self-loathing for the night.

"What are we drinking tonight, Jim?" asks Scotty, sliding into Jim's booth. He screws his face up as he takes an experimental sniff of the eerie green dribble abandoned in Jim's glass. If a man's going to drink himself to death, he could at least do it with something decent.

Jim throws his head back, letting it rest on the fake leather upholstered back rest. He doesn't even hide his disappointment and frustration, releasing an irritated moan that can be heard over the music. "What are you doing here, Scotty?"

"Can't one friend join another for a drink?" he replies with a sheepish grin. Subtlety isn't exactly his game; he's an engineer not a spy.

"It's hardly your scene," counters Jim, crossing his arms.

"Doesn't seem like yours either, yet here we are." Scotty shrugs, raising his hand to signal the waitress to bring him a drink.

Jim's nostrils flare as he sucks in a deep breath. "I'm not in the mood," says Jim sourly, cutting straight to the point.

Scotty purses his lips. "Captain Pike sent me."

Jim rolls his eyes. If it's possible he looks even more irritated. "I don't need a babysitter."

"The Captain thinks otherwise." Scotty swallows nervously. "Sir." He's not the man for this job; he fixes ships not people. "He also sent me with a message."

Jim shakes his head. Everyone is so busy trying to help but they certainly weren't willing to help in any meaningful way when he was looking for Leonard. "Well?" demands Jim, growing tired of the silence.

"He said to remind you that he's not picking you up off of anymore barroom floors."

"That's hardly the threat it's made out to be when he sends you instead," counters Jim. "You don't have to do what he says," he adds pointing out the obvious abuse of power in sending Scotty to do Pike's dirty work afterhours.

"I kind of do. He's my Captain." The statement's as painful to say as it is to watch it hit its mark. Pike still has command of the Enterprise and no one's said a peep about a change of command anytime soon. "And you're my friend. Plus we all know what happened the last time I disobeyed an Admiral," adds Scotty, sullenly. He didn't enjoy his never ending stint on Delta Vega, he's not looking for another one.

Jim watches out of the corner of his eye as his potential bed partner leaves the club with her group of friends. He's been torpedoed and left drift alone.

"Come on let's get ya home," suggest Scotty, sliding over to help get Jim to his feet.

Jim pulls his arm free of Scotty's grip. "I don't want to go home. I can't!" he says, pained. He grabs a hold of the table with everything he has.

"Alright," relents Scotty. Getting into a fist fight over where Jim ends up tonight doesn't seem really intuitive to why he was sent. "We won't take you home but ya cannae stay here." Scotty wasn't on planning to bring Jim home but like any good engineer, he knows how to improvise.

"You need to see a lawyer," declares Uhura, towering over him as she refuses to actually sit at the cafeteria table with him. She's clearly on a mission, wasting no time for pleasantries or even a hello. She's spent all day trying to track Jim down who's clearly spent this last year mastering the layout and hiding spots of Starfleet command while they've been chasing down Leonard. Scotty was supposed to have tabs on him, but awoke early to an empty couch and no clue as to where their wayward former Captain slunk off to.

Jim swallows his bite. He's nearly free enough of his hangover to deal with this. "A lawyer for what?" he asks, honestly perplexed. He's just taking lunch between meetings, he hasn't had time to do anything that requires legal representation today and he certainly hasn't found himself in the brig in months. Not that any of that should concern Uhura, who's been on the Enterprise while Jim's been left to rot.

Uhura rolls her eyes. Her sympathy for Jim only runs so deep and even that is mostly because of Leonard. "For Leonard. I heard what Jocelyn said yesterday and if you want to be the one making decisions you need to get a lawyer on the paper work."

"I'm already Leonard's medical proxy. I have been making all the decisions," he says with distain. Leonard chose Jim for that position about a month into their first year at the academy when an officer tracked him down and demanded he fill out all his entrance papers to the letter and not in some drunken scrawl that left more blanks than answers. There wasn't really anyone else for Leonard to ask. His father had passed away before the divorce and his mother wasn't in the best mental state to deal with any emergencies regarding her son that she was barely speaking to. Being an only child, Leonard had one cousin he could task with the burden but beyond holidays every few years the two barely spoke. Jim was as close to him as anyone, so why not? His mother passed before the start of their third year so Jim really was all Leonard had.

"That allows you to make medical decisions in emergencies but you need power of attorney. For reasons I'll never understand, Leonard told me once that he wanted you to handle his affairs." She could never understand why someone like Leonard insisted on being friends with the likes of Kirk. But Leonard, besides being cantankerous on the outside, is undeniably sweet, generous and caring on the inside, and as such, is too good of a friend. Uhura feels it's her duty to fulfill his wishes, even if she doesn't agree with them.

"His affairs?" Jim slams his fork down. "He's not dead, damn it. The man's still alive."

"But mentally incompetent to run his life," presses Uhura. She doesn't mean to be cruel but they can't escape the facts. There's a lot at stake here and Leonard can no longer fight for himself. He chose Jim as his champion when he was of sound mind and the tragedy within the tragedy will be if they can't fulfil that request.

Jim pushes his tray to the side, suddenly no longer able to stomach the few bites he was able to force down. He doesn't want to talk about this because this is only temporary. Leonard will get better now that he's among his people and more importantly his friends. Sure it will take some time but it will happen- it has to. "We're not doing this," says Jim simply.

Uhura looks a little sad. She sits down across from him looking fragile and defeated like he's never seen her before. "We went through something similar to this with my grandmother. She was smart and funny and always so sharp," she says wistfully. "It started small. She'd forget words, her train of thought; things that happen to all of us from time to time. Then it got worse and we all just thought it was age or she was tired. It wasn't and by the time decision had to be made she wasn't in a state to tell us her wishes or who she thought could best fulfill those wishes."

"It's not the same," protests Jim. He just needs everyone to get onboard denial railways with him and quit trying to derail his train with the truth.

Uhura places her hand over his. "There's a lot at stake here. And if you don't step up someone else will and they might not be as concerned for Leonard as you," she warns in the most warm and sympathetic tone she has in her arsenal.

"Who is possibly going to want to screw up Leonard's life anymore than it already is?" asks Jim.

Long drawn out fights with family members about her grandmother's fate replay in her head; people who all thought they knew what was best often forgetting what that a scared frail person was trapped in the middle of their war, battling for the right to be the one to make decisions. Then there's Joanna; the lost soul trapped in the middle of all this misery. "You need to talk to a lawyer."

Jim bites his tongue, letting out a long tired sigh instead of a biting remark as the lawyer fumbles his awkwardly stacked pile of PADDs he carries into his office. Uhura should be proud at Jim's restraint. This bumbling lawyer doesn't even look old enough to attend law school let alone have an office with an actually license, is making it all too easy for Jim to question the wisdom of this plan. She pointedly refuses to acknowledge the look Jim's shooting her that screams this whole exercise is a waste of time and energy.

"I was able to obtain a copy of Mr McCoy's will," starts the lawyer, finally taking a seat. His desk is still a clutter with PADDs and files.

"He's still alive," says Jim, coldly. His finger tips dig into the leather arms of his chair. Everyone always wants to talk about Leonard like he's dead. "And it's Doctor."

Uhura elbows him subtly, like she's trying to discipline an unruly child, smiling warmly at the lawyer.

Jim's not interested in making friends. He's just here to make sure he has the authority to give Leonard the best help and treatment available until Leonard comes out of this. Because it doesn't matter what M'Benga and the rest say, Leonard will get better. He has to. Jim's watched Leonard perform miracles for years, he has to have saved one for himself.

Frowning, the lawyer looks down at his notes. "Right," he agrees.

Jim doubts that will be the last time the lawyer makes that mistake.

"Doctor McCoy's paper work is all pretty straight forward," the lawyer assures.

"Great," says Jim, starting to get up. He has more important things to do.

"Sit down," hisses Uhura, grabbing the hem of his shirt. She didn't call in this favour for them to leave without getting ever t crossed and every I dotted. The guy might not look like a high powered attorney but she was promised he was one of the best at the firm and able to see them. "So Jim just needs to sign some things and he'll maintain conservatorship permanently?"

The lawyer glances over his notes. "Mr McCoy, doesn't have any immediate family alive other than a daughter who appears to be under age."

"Doctor," mutter Jim. He slumps down in his chair slightly to avoid the outright display of sulking by crossing his arms.

The lawyer continues, unfazed by the interruption. "Unless the extended family or Starfleet can make a case that Mr Kirk is incompetent or incapable of performing these duties, I don't foresee a problem in regards to decisions about Dr McCoy's medical care. There may be some contest to Mr Kirk having financial control and parental rights maybe another matter though."

"Someone could contest financial rights?" ask Uhura, a little curious.

Jim's mouth gapes slightly as his brain tries to comprehend a more important word than finance. "I'm sorry, what about parental rights?"

"Yes. Mr McCoy named you as parental guardian of his daughter should anything happen to him."

Jim sits there stunned. Uhura however, seems rather unfazed by the bomb that just went off. "My brain hurts," squeaks Jim, finally convincing his body to do something in its numbed state.

"Mine too," agrees Uhura. Leonard had mentioned making Jim a guardian if something happened to him but she always assumed it was if there was no one else. Never in a million years would she have believed Leonard would think Jim first choice and fit to look after his daughter. Most of Leonard's rants started with how juvenile Jim is.

"But," says Jim screwing his face up as he tries to force his brain to get a handle on this new information, "her mother has custody."

"She does," agrees the lawyer. "Technically, she has joint custody. I have all the paperwork in regards to Mr McCoy and Mrs Darnell's divorce and I must say her attorneys are good. Their custody agreement is very detailed and specific, much to Mrs Darnell's benefit except in this case where Mr McCoy can designate his portion of guardianship if his will or living will is enacted."

"He wants me to raise his daughter?" chokes Jim. The words feel especially jagged and sharp coming out of his mouth.

"You can fulfill his portion of custody agreement, acting as his daughter's guardian during the times Mr McCoy would have custody. He's currently guaranteed a specified amount of call and vid time per month and two weeks of physical custody a year when he's on leave. They are set to review the duration of Mr McCoy's custody every year, so we can push for increased or reduced time them."

"There has to be some mistake. I can't keep a potted plant alive let alone be responsible for a child," stammers Jim. He's not even taking care of himself right now.

"They put you in charge of a starship!" Uhura snaps, rather affronted. She's always had her doubts that most of Jim's skills were nothing more than ego and bravado but part of the magic was that Jim believed in himself so fully that this omission makes her question future missions.

Jim hisses back, "Not now."

"For two weeks a year. Given the transcripts of their divorce, I fully believe Mrs Darnell will contest this turn of events. We don't have to fight to maintain the right. Though that could be her avenue to fight for conservatorship in order to preserve his financial support."

"They're divorced and it's my understanding everything was settled and Jocelyn's very well off. Why would she want anything from Leonard?" asks Jim. The last thing he needs is to tangle with that vampire of an ex wife. Especially since she was one of her lawyers.

"Mrs Darnell can contest on the grounds of their daughter. Mr McCoy…"

"Doctor," corrects Jim, gritting his teeth.

"Is responsible for her until she is of age. That means part of his estate belongs to their daughter."

"Joanna can have it all," says Jim. He wouldn't take anything of Leonard's that should rightfully belong to Joanna even if he wanted something.

"Mr McCoy has left everything to her and listed you as conservator of such estate should Ms McCoy not be of age. That being said, since Mr McCoy is still alive there will continue to be funds funnelled into the estate. For example Starfleet owes him for his service and being injured in the line of duty allows Mr McCoy access to funds to finance his long term care, hence Mrs Darnell's potential interest."

This is more than Jim's prepared to deal with. In all their years together, Leonard never mentioned any of this. If he had, Jim would have resoundingly refused. There is nothing that Jim has revealed to Leonard that would even slightly hint that Jim would be a good candidate for custodian. He wasn't that thrilled about being Leonard's medical proxy but since Leonard returned the favour for Jim and Leonard was by no means the reckless one, he had accepted. This… this is so much more. "Do you need an answer this second?" There's defeat in his voice.

"No. Mr McCoy did leave several video messages for you that explain his decision. The rest can wait until legal authority is required or someone contests." The Lawyer slides over several data sticks containing the vids. "I'll be in touch."

Jim reaches over and grabs the data sticks before he and Uhura leave the office. The ride in the turbo lift is quiet. Uhura looks like she's turning over the right words to say but failing to come up with any. Jim just stares at the ground, loosely holding onto the data sticks. His fingers refuse to tighten around them; they're potentially Leonard's last words and he's just not ready for that. Looks like the denial freight train is destined to come into the station after all.

"If you need anything, we're all here for you," says Uhura landing on a tired but honest sentiment as they leave the lobby.

"I can't do this. I can't do any of it," whispers Jim and it sounds so broken, Uhura's heart breaks for him.

The revelations from the lawyer weren't as surprising to her as they were Jim. She was there when Leonard recorded a few of the videos for Joanna. She was a little surprised at just how much Leonard trusts Jim, but she's determined to make sure that trust isn't misplaced. "Watch the vids, Jim," she suggests before heading back to her temporary quarters.

Jim stares at the data sticks like they might come alive and bite him. He can't bring himself to play them; it's like opening Pandora's Box. Whatever is said on them was meant for Jim in the case of Leonard's death and he isn't dead.

What if it's condemnation? What if Leonard somehow knew things would turn out this way and recorded a lecture berating Jim so could know he fucked up one last time. He isn't so sure he can handle that right now.

Worse, what if it's Leonard praising Jim and celebrating their friendship? Would Leonard really want him to have those vids if he knew Jim failed to bring him home? If he knew it was Jim's command that put him in harm's way to begin with?

Day falls to night and night gives way to day and still Jim sits there staring at the unknown. One has his name written on the label in Leonard's hasty scrawl, the other says Joanna, written with a little more time and care. He honestly hasn't given Joanna much thought since he was relieved of his command. He was so sure he was going to bring Leonard home safely, that her future seemed assured.

The heart breaking conversation informing her her father was missing was more than he could stomach but every month he called her home and gave her another disappointing update that Leonard wasn't coming home yet. He made one update call the first month he was riding a desk instead of the Enterprise and promptly pulled the ripcord on any future disappointment by telling her someone else had to look for Leonard. She wasn't the first thing on her mind when Pike told him they had found Leonard and shamefully he doesn't know if she's been told anything real now. This is the person Leonard thought could raise his kid?

He needs to get back to the hospital and stare at those walls for awhile because he sure isn't helping there. Nothing he does seems to put Leonard at ease or make the situation better. If anything, Leonard seems to be more worked up when Jim is around. The closest they can get to calm is submissive to the nursing staff. And that's mostly accomplished with a constant sedative.

Jim's found a whole new level of uselessness. Can't command a starship, can't help his friend, can't bring himself to watch a vid. The prospect of walking into medical without having heard Leonard's message feels like a cheat.

If Leonard can survive out there in the hands of slavers for a year, Jim can press play on a god damn vid. Jim opts for some liquid courage first; he has quite the empty bottle collection accumulating. It takes a little more than a fifth of whiskey to find that courage.

Jim recognizes their dorm room in the background as Leonard seats himself in front of the camera. He can't help but wonder exactly when Leonard did this. Was it during their first year, when most of Jim's demons were still hidden? Their second year when it was well established Jim was a reckless son of a bitch with the aptitude to find trouble? Early in their third year, before the universe got turned over on its head?

"Well here we are," starts Leonard, looking about as uncomfortable as Jim feels. "I'm going to assume I didn't make it and you're left to pick up the pieces, Jim. Not how most people would see that one playin' out but I'm glad you made it kid." Leonard looks really genuine in his sentiment.

Hearing new words in Leonard's voice, whole sentences Jim's never heard before, for a moment, just a moment, it's like having him back. Leonard's southern drawl sends chills down Jim's spine. It's been so long since he's heard that voice, since Leonard looked at him and smiled. Every syllable guts him, flaying him open for death's vultures to pick his carcass clean.

"Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault, Jim. Whether you were there or not. So don't waste time blamin' yourself. I know you did your best."

Jim's best looks a lot like failure this time. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly impossibly dry. He saved the universe from a time travelling Romulan and somehow couldn't pull out a win against his friend being kidnapped by essentially space pirates.

"I'm gonna need you to start taking care of yourself now, Jim. I just need to know that you'll be alright and this ain't the start of some reckless spiral cause I ani't there to put you back together, kid. And I need you to be good." There's pain and sadness in Leonard's eyes like he's a god damn profit of all things Kirk and the tarot cards are all laid out on the table. "You saved me on that shuttle in Riverside, in ways you can't even begin to imagine. And I wouldn't change any of it."

"Bones!" comes Jim's voice on the video and Leonard turns to glance towards what would have been the door of their dorm. "I found out from Gaila that that cute nursing student you refuse to introduce me to is going to be out with a bunch of friends celebrating tonight and we have to go."

"I'll be there in a minute," Leonard barks, waving his hand dismissively. "I've got to finish something."

"Do extracurricular assignments on your own time," whines Jim as he pulls on a clean shirt.

"This is my own time, you enfant." Leonard give the camera a look like this is exactly what he was talking about.

"I got to go, but listen to me. You're destined for great things, just when you finally get that Captain's seat, be careful."

"Are you still studying? Did you not hear me? It's time to blow off some steam and…"

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor not a bar star." The vid ends, cutting off what was a good night. Jim would give anything to go back and relieve that night or any other before he answered that fake distress call. Jim would change, he'd change all of it. Leonard was so busy knowing what's good for everyone else, he failed to realize that Jim was an all consuming cancer that was going to end his life all too soon.

The screen flickers and comes alive again. It's their dorm again but about a year later. Leonard's sitting on the couch and through the dim light of the dorm, Jim can just make out his leg hanging off the side of his bed in the background. There's a lump in Leonard's bed and given the presence of glitter in his hair, Jim can assume Joanna was over for the weekend.

"I have something to ask you," say Leonard, quiet so he doesn't wake Joanna or Jim. It would have been unlikely, they were both in a sugar comma from spending the day at the fair. Jim only tagged along because he had some assignments he was trying to avoid and Leonard had said Joanna needed someone to go on rides with. Leonard looks hesitant, pursing his lips and do that thing where he scratches at the palm of his hand when he's uncomfortable talking about something. "I should have asked you before this. Hell, I should have done it in person, but I can't bring myself to hear you say no. That probably makes me a coward."

The apologetic and unsure look on Leonard's face, ignites a fire of irritation in Jim. There isn't anything Leonard could ask of him that Jim would deny if it was truly important to Leonard.

"The most important thing to me is Joanna and if I'm not there for her someone has to be. And I can't think of anyone better than you," implores Leonard.

Jim scoffs. He's not parent material. This video alone is proof; the adult is in the living room tending to adult matters while the 'children' are passed out in the back from playing too hard. He doesn't even have a good example of his own to reference. His dad died when he was born and his mother was rarely around. And on the rare occasion she blessed the Kirk household with her presence, she was checked out mentally.

Jim can see the weight he's feeling pressing down on Leonard in the vid. Clearly Leonard gave this preposterous idea thought. Somewhere down the line Jim gave him the horrible impression that Jim's capable of being responsible and parental to another human being. He really wishes he hadn't made that mistake.

Leonard lets out a long breath. "I've changed my will. You may think there's adventure out there, but I stand by my assessment of space and all its dangers. Again, if you have this vid then you've seen a lawyer and know I've named you as guardian to Joanna. I know it's the coward's way of asking, doing it when I ain't giving you the option to tell me no, but there's no one else I trust and I need you to do this for me Jim. I'll understand if you give up that right; it's a hell of a thing to ask somebody. I just needed to believe the best person would be looking out for her when I was gone and you're that person Jim, even if you don't believe you are. You're a good man, Jim and I know you have it in you to do this." Leonard wrings his hands in the ensuing silence.

The vid ends and Jim sits there numbly. He was already drowning and now Leonard's managed to tie two anchors around his feet. Jim's not father material. He's so far from it, Leonard should have had his head examined the second the notion came to him. He's failed Leonard and now Leonard's given him the power to fail Joanna too.

The halls are dark, lit only with simulated evening light. The quietness is eerie but given the hour, Jim didn't expect a crowd. Visiting hours have long since lapsed and medical has settled into night crew management mode.

Jim can't sleep; the weight of the universe is pressing down on his chest making it impossible to find a moment's peace. He wanders slowly down the hall careful to avoid any nurses that might send him home for the night. Alcohol doesn't settle his demons anymore; he knows he tried tonight. All Jim has to show for a night of drinking at home is a wobbly gait that has him staggering slightly to the right. He couldn't even find comfort in the arms of a willing stranger since that bastard Pike sent the Enterprise senior staff to stake out all the potential bars Jim would have tried tonight. For someone who claimed to be done with Jim's shit, the man certainly has no problem employing others to do his dirty work.

So Jim's slightly impaired brain has concocted the idea to try sleeping in Leonard's room, just like the old days before Jim got himself reassigned to be Leonard's dorm mate. Legal authority comes with access to Leonard's files and with that most of his codes which happened to include Leonard's medical overrides which carry weight at Starfleet medical. Since Leonard doesn't seem capable of feeding himself at the moment, some short sighted individual failed to remove Leonard's access privileges, a fact Jim is more than willing to exploit tonight.

He enters the code into the door and slips inside. It's dark enough inside to allow the patient to sleep but there's enough light that the nurses can come in and check on things if need be. Jim hangs by the door so as not to crowd Leonard who's lying on his stomach with his head facing the door; just like Jim left him the other day.

Leonard stares at Jim warily but doesn't move a muscle. Every once in a while he blinks his owlishly big eyes. That and the slow rise and fall of his chest are the only signs of life he exhibits.

Jim leans against the wall, sliding down it until he's sitting on the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Bones," he confesses in a soft whisper. He has Spock to discuss strategy with, or did until Jim decided he had no line when it came to finding Leonard. They took away Spock's council when they took the Enterprise. He had Leonard for everything else until that was violently snatched away. Jim's been on his own ever since, only now that he's known the company of other's he cares for, does he truly know what it's like to be alone.

Tears burn at his eyes as he realizes no response is forth coming. No more late night musings over drinks, no more lectures about reckless behaviour, no more complaining about space or federation technologies.

Jim can't take the silence. He'll fill it, even if it's just with his voice. "I saw Joanna yesterday. She looks good, happy even. She'd love to come and see you." It's probably just his imagination but something seems to change in Leonard's eyes at the mention of Joanna's name; nothing really tangible, just a glint that didn't seem to be there before. As quickly as it appears it disappears.

"Had the misfortune of seeing Jocelyn too. I have to ask, what were you thinking? Of all people… I figured you out of anyone could recognize evil when in its presence." Jim waits for a response; he can't help it. He and Leonard used to talk everyday- about the big things, the little and mundane things.

Jim's always had friends, he excels at walking that fine line between love him and hate him, but he's never been exceptionally close to anyone. Mostly because the people who were supposed to be automatically on team Jim Kirk were the first to leave him- his father, his mother and then his brother. It just became safer to keep people at arm's length. And then he went and let a grump doctor get close. Now Jim's all alone again and it's all Leonard's fault. "All you had to do was get on the damn shuttle," hisses Jim. The edge in his voice is sharp, cutting through the night. "You were right there. You could have done it. You should have done it!"

Leonard frowns. It's the first time these strangers have really raised their voices to him.

Jim knows he should shut his mouth but he's on a roll now and he can't hold back the hot anger begging to get out. "You told me you couldn't leave me standing here all pathetic but that's what you've done. It just took you years to do what everyone else does. You promised you wouldn't leave. You promised!" His voice gets louder with each accusation; his fist punctuation each point by slamming against the floor. "And Joanna? What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I'm nobody's parent. Did you even think about her when you made that decision?"

Leonard brings one uncoordinated hand down over the edge of the bed. The bed is lower to the ground, letting his hand make contact with the floor easily. He slides a wobbly leg over the edge too, clumsily shifting his weight until he slides on to the floor. The words being levelled against him don't make sense but the tone is familiar. In a half crawl, half dragging his body, he positions himself at the man's feet. Leonard's body folds automatically, his knees pressing against his chest as he lowers his head in a bow against the floor and awaits punishment.

Jim stops his rant, the words getting tangled up in his throat with a sudden rush of sadness as he watches his best friend cower before him. His fists uncurl and with trembling fingers he reaches out, placing his hands on Leonard's shoulders. Leonard flinches hard at the soft touch but settles quickly. Slowly, Jim starts curling his fingers in the still untamed strands of Leonard's hair, quietly stroking his mane until he feels Leonard drift to sleep.

It's dark, the kind of darkness that takes Leonard a minute to decide if he even opened his eyes at all. The smell though, is what tips him off to the wrongness of everything. There's a stench of rot and despair that floats along the cold metal floor his face is pressed against. This isn't the Enterprise by any stretch of the imagination.

Leonard wants to sit up but everything aches and feels sluggish and his mouth feels like he's been sucking on cotton balls. Stunned, he assesses. It's far less damaging than other means of rendering people unconscious but they all feel the same waking up. The constant and frantic scurrying sound in the distance makes him wish he wasn't awake at all. A shiver runs through him as he pictures rats scurrying in the darkness. Do Orion slave ships have rats? Leonard can't remember but anything that likes to scurry in the dark certainly isn't going to be any friend of his.

He lies there, embracing the numbness of not moving. There's a gentle humming coming from somewhere, soft and comforting if not a little broken in its execution. He can't decide if it's really there or the ghost of a distant memory trying to offer comfort. Thinking is just going to lead to panicking. Panicking won't help anyone here. He distracts himself by going over the mental checklist Jim taught him during one of their survival command training exercises they had to pass if they ever wanted to rise above the rank of Lieutenant. The list wasn't that dissimilar to Leonard's own emergency medical list so it was easy to remember.

Number one, what does he know? Captured by slavers, not something Leonard personally had on his bucket list, but here he is. Slavers will want them alive but that doesn't mean they are safe. At least part of the away team was taken but Scotty was definitely on the shuttle. That makes Leonard the highest ranking officer and by default the officer in charge. Great.

Number two, what does he need to know? For starters where the hell are they and who exactly has them? There's actually slavers and then there's scavengers that like to sell easy targets to slavers for quick credits. Who and how many crew members are captured and what is their medical status? What kind of rations and supplies are available and is escaping a possibility? Number two is a little overwhelming, especially in the confines of darkness.

Number three, what does he have at his disposal? Leonard's hand runs over his hip. He supposes it was too much to ask for his captors to be incompetent enough to leave his phaser on him. Since he can't see the space he's being held in, objects to be utilized are a mystery. That leaves him with his wit and irritability, neither of which are best suited to this situation. So far he's not off to a great start.

Light floods the area blinding Leonard and sending a lightning bolt of pain shooting through his skull to bounce around like a pinball as he scrunches his eyes closed to try and escape. The headache that was lurking in the furthest recesses of his head is fully awake now. Covering his face with his hands he tries to block out the bright light that seems to be burning its way through his eyelids. Blinking slowly, he tries to open his eyes enough to look around through split fingers. Everything's a blurry mess of color and form that has no relevance.

The muted chuckle in the distance at Leonard's discomfort has to be a guard enjoying his prisoner's suffering. So, not alone. There are other raggedy breaths in the space and based on the blurry red and blue he makes out when he tries to look at the source, it has to be his fellow crewmembers.

After a few moments, Leonard experimentally lowers his hands. The world's still a little too bright, but the details are coming into focus. So far hospitality is earning zero stars and their accommodations aren't much better. He sits up on the uncomfortable metal grating comprising the floor of what can only be a storage space at best. High above them is a metal walk way in which their watchdog is positioned, glaring down at them.

The walls are barren except for the odd phaser blast scar and water stain. A thick coat of dirt pillows in the corners of the room fading to a light dusting of grime as it reaches the center. Leonard doubts they're the first unfortunate souls to occupy this hallow space. He catches the glimpse of a tail belonging to something in a rodent family as it ducks through a crack in the corner. It's the type of environment that has Leonard longing for a sonic shower and broad spectrum antibiotic.

Speaking of antibiotics, Leonard's hand runs along the seam of his pants until it gets to the tender and swollen part of his shin that whip tore into. The fabric sticks and pulls against his leg as he tries to get a good look at the damage. He's missing a small chunk of flesh, nothing life threatening but hardly something he wants to expose to this environment.

Sitting directly across from him staring at him with the most haunted and terrified look Leonard's ever had the misfortune of seeing on a face that young is the girl he found. Obviously her hiding spot wasn't safe enough. "Are you alright?" asks Leonard, voice hoarse. He isn't shocked that she doesn't answer. There isn't anything he could do for her even if she did respond; he's striped clean of everything except his uniform.

Leonard looks to his left, the former red and blue blotches growing very human features since last he looked. Xanders is sitting with her back pressed to the wall in the far corner with Engineer Clark half cradled in her lap. Her eyes never deviate from his slack face as she gently rocks back and forth like she's soothing a baby, humming the gentle notes Leonard's been hearing. Leonard doesn't need a medical tricorder to make his assessment. Humans can't live with their organs spilling out, even if his junior medic is doing her damnedest to try and hold the wound closed.

The blood on the floor is drying. If Leonard had to guess, he'd put young Clark's death at a few hours ago. "Evelyn," he says, trying to break her out of her spell. The humming stops and it feels like the last shreds of humanity go with it, fleeing the metal cage in a way its occupants can't.

"He's dead. Drew's dead," says Xanders in a small fragile voice that barely escapes her cracked lips. She never pauses in her rocking; her hand never loosens over the fatal wound. A lone tear runs down her cheek, following in the path of many others before it.

Leonard makes it a personal point to stay out of the personal lives of his junior officers, to maintain objectivity as their boss and for his own sanity. The kids that go into the academy fresh out of school tend to have soap opera worthy social lives as they figure out their place in both Starfleet and adulthood. Leonard already lived his soap opera, he doesn't need to be sucked into other's. Still, he somehow knows Xanders and Clark were close, couple of dates and romantic dinners kind of close.

He doesn't have any words to form a worthy condolence. They're prisoners on of all things, a slave ship, her boyfriend is dead and Xanders is green enough, that it's probably her first death in service. They're really in here. The only thing worse would be to lose hope.

"Evelyn, we're going to get out of this. The captain will be looking for us," promises Leonard. He's not sure if he says it for her benefit or if he just needs to hear the words out loud.

Xanders still doesn't look at him. "You sure?"

Leonard's read the briefing reports about the Orion smuggling operations and slave rings. He knows the statistics and they're not good. Once they hit the auction block it's a certainty they'll never be found and the ship they're on is warping towards that destination. "I know Captain Kirk, he won't leave a stone unturned. We just have to stay alive until he finds us."

The humming starts again.

"Jim!" shouts Gaila as she runs through the crowded shuttle station towards her friend. Excitement at seeing an old friend gives her feet wings.

Jim envy's the depths of her never ending smile that always seems to brighten the room and the undiminishable happiness that dances in the depths of those big bright aqua eyes. There are happy people all throughout the station and Jim wonders if he'll ever feel happiness again or is he doomed to play the imposter in other people's otherwise blissful lives.

"Jim," she squeals, practically throwing herself into him as she wraps her arms tightly around him in a hug. She melts into the reassurance that he's alive and well. When word spread that the Enterprise had been ambushed by slavers and members of her away team had been taken, Gaila was sure Jim's name would be among the taken. As fate would have it, Jim was safe, but what would come later for the youngest Captain in the fleet would be far worse.

Jim stands there, rather awkwardly, unsure of where he should put his hands. This isn't just old friends getting together, this is business. This is green skin all around him. He wonders if she would embrace him at all if she knew what he did to the last Orion he was this close to. Realizing the hug isn't going to end anytime soon, he gives in and hugs her back.

Gaila pulls back, looking a little sad. Softly, she asks, "How is he?"

"It's not good," is all Jim can force between his lips. He's still raw from last night, conflicted between everything he learned and voicing the anger he's been feeling towards Leonard for the last year. Mostly, he's pissed at himself for trying to vent that anger and frustration on someone who's no longer able to understand it. This happened to Leonard… because of Jim, he has no right to search for absolution for himself. And from Leonard of all people.

Another Orion steps up next to them, hefting a bag over his shoulder. He extends his hand, "You must be Jim. Gaila talks about you often," he says pleasantly.

Jim's stomach rolls. He's seen Orions since Leonard was taken. Hell, there are a few hundred within Starfleet, mostly female though, and thousands more within the Federation boarders. Orion slave girls are the prize of the universe. Since they've mostly turned it into a legitimate profession serving as entertainers and hosts, it's hard to find settlements and colonies that don't have a few living among them. Orions, while part of the Federation, have a few outlying colonies and planets that still hold to the tradition practices of actual slavery, particularly of their women, that refuse to conform to Federation law. Those rogue chapters have prospered by extending their slave trade to include kidnapped victims of the Federation they despise. The last time he actually saw a male Orion he was holding a broken piece of glass to their throat, threatening to slit it wide open if they didn't reveal the location of one of their processing facilities. Jim can still see the blood on his hands and feel the disappointed looks from his senior staff.

Jim forces himself to extend his hand to this individual and accept the very human handshake. He doesn't return the smile though. The greeting lasts mere seconds, Gaila's friend clearly sensing the tension in the air and Jim's reluctance to be pleasant.

Gaila's shoulders slump but she keeps her smile firmly in place. This isn't the easy devil may care guy she spent time at the academy with. It's like Jim's lost the thing that made him different, special, from the other people she met. This is someone with the weight of the universe on their shoulders. "Jim this is Thai, the expert I was telling you about," says Gaila.

Jim's brow furrows. "Thai? That's a rather human name isn't it?" he asks suspiciously. He doesn't have time for scholarly informed experts, Starfleet and Medical have dozens of those; he's looking for the real deal, with usable authentic information that's going to help. He wants someone who can give him the blueprint to understanding what's left of his best friend.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private to talk," suggests Thai, looking around the crowed station. This is hardly the forum to discuss such personal and distressing matters.

Jim side eyes Gaila who nods reassuringly. "Alright. My place is just around the corner," Jim suggests. He's not completely sure why he suggests his place; the thought of hosting an Orion in his own personal space makes him cringe. He tries to tell himself it's reflex, convenience and nothing more; it has absolutely nothing to do with the phaser he smuggled off the Enterprise being located in a secret compartment in his side table.

The walk there is silent. Jim can't get a read on Thai yet but he can tell Gaila's struggling to keep from asking a million questions. He knows because he could hear it in all the things she doesn't say in their communications, the awkward pauses as she thinks of something harmless to talk about to distract Jim from everything Leonard. Shamefully he's never asked about Gaila's upbringing; if this is something she grew up fearing or something that touched her life a little more personally. Really their relationship is based on falling in bed together and comfortable banter and innuendo that comes easily with no expectations of anything more, yet a willingness to be in each other's corner.

Their dynamic almost changed once with Gaila claiming love for him, but Jim nipped that in the bud with a rather inarticulate, "That's so weird." Neither spoke of it again. Gaila never voicing if those feeling died before they really took root, or if she buried them, never letting them sprout to anything more than a cherished bedfellow. For his part, Jim never had to explain why things would never progress past mutual yet temporary gratification.

"I'll make us some coffee?" suggests Gaila as the door to Jim's apartment opens and the trio walks in.

Jim points towards in the direction of the kitchen, using his other hand to direct Thai's attention to the living room. The pair sit down, opting to sit on separate couches creating the greatest distance one can, given the layout of the living room. Jim shifts uneasily with every clink and clang emanating from the kitchen that doesn't herald Gaila's appearance, his eyes occasionally darting to that secret compartment in the side table. It doesn't help that Thai stares at him like every psychologist Jim's had the misfortune of being ordered to see.

"You asked about my name," says Thai, breaking the uncomfortable silence. His soft voice floats across the iciness of the room.

"Doesn't exactly scream someone raised outside the Federation or human contact," confirms Jim, darkly. He's not here for the party line about how the Orion government doesn't sanction slavery nor does it know any specifics about the operations, but here is the tradition break down of the old ways, that the Orion history experts supplied him with. He knows the slave trade is alive and rather healthy in its practice. Jim got a pretty good look at parts of it when he still had a ship to look for Leonard.

Thai tilts his head in agreement. "It wasn't the name I was born with. My adoptive parents gave it to me," explains Thai, a heaviness hanging off his words. "Ta-I was one of the only things I would say when a Federation ship rescued a group of us from a damaged slave transport. My parents thought I was telling them my name, with a slight speech impediment. Slaves aren't exactly taught reading, writing and basic vocabulary."

"What does it mean?" asks Jim, trying hard to ignore the way his cheeks burn for automatically being on the defensive.

"There are seven distinct languages among the Orion people not counting various dialects. Slaves have their own language. It's a mishmash of words from the seven Orion languages and words used by alien prisoners captured by the slavers. Every house has their own version of the language which is really just understanding enough words and phrases to know what's expected of you. It's why your universal translators aren't efficient at translating it. Ta-I means master."

"And you kept it?" asks Jim incredulously. Seems like the last souvenir someone would want once they escaped that life. "You're parents didn't insist it be changed?"

"It was two years before they were informed what I was actually saying and what it translated to. By that time I was sixteen years old and had grown accustomed to it and my new life. I was calling myself master essentially. There's a certain power that comes from being the master of your own destiny."

"How did you end up a slave?" asks Jim, a little hesitant to voicing such a touchy subject. He needs the nitty-gritty though, he needs the pieces of the puzzle that's going to let him break through and bring Leonard back.

"I was born into it. My mother and brother were stolen from a small village in Bel-ant-que province. The master of their house took an interest in my mother and I was the result. She called me Hale in private. Officially my name was Capi-ne which loosely translates to Slave Eight. When I was five my brother was sold to another house and by the time I was seven my mother was sent to work at another one of our master's houses. I've never seen either of them since."

Jim slouches back on the couch. Obviously Thai has the experience for the insight he's looking for that medical hasn't provided yet. It kills him that it's coming out of the face of the enemy, though the soul clearly belongs to someone who has suffered just as greatly at their hands.

"It's not uncommon to lose people completely into the slave circuit," says Gaila, finally emerging from the kitchen with a tray of cups. Jim takes the offered cup from Gaila as she passes it to him before sitting next to Thai. He lets it sit on the coffee table as he tries to order his thoughts and questions in his head.

"Thank you," say Thai accepting his cup from Gaila and taking an experimental sip. He turns his gaze back to Jim. "So have I passed your test so far? I mean that's your real question, am I legit?"

Jim nods. The questions don't come though. He thought he was ready for answers but something in him is hesitant to open that door. There's no coming back from learning the gory details. Whatever he learns here will change him forever. What happened to Leonard will go from speciation to cold hard fact. "Did you read the files?" he asks.

"I did."

Gaila looks like she'd rather be anywhere else than a silent observer of the conversation about to go down.

Thai squares his shoulders, every line of his body following suit in adopting a professional stance. "Let me start by saying what your medical team has deemed as a lobotomy gone wrong is inaccurate," states Thai.

Jim's heart skips a beat.

"It went exactly right."

The declaration crawls up Jim's spin like ants in a line, sending creepy and chilling feelings thrumming along every bone in his body. The thought that Leonard's condition was an unfortunate side effect of their barbarianism was sickening enough but to know that what's left currently residing in a padded room in medical was by specific design is a whole new level of sadism. "Why would they…" he asks over the sinking feeling he doesn't want to know the answer.

Thai licks his lips before pursing them together. "A slave is only worth what it can provide to the house. It can be manual labour, sexual in nature, a specific skill. If a slave becomes too much trouble, they're killed. The disruption often isn't worth trying to break them."

Galia shifts uncomfortably, opting to look out the window rather than anyone else in the room. Jim just replays the last conversation he had with Leonard in his head and how obscene the topic seems now that the thought of someone touching Leonard so intimately- violating him on top of everything else. Jim's had all year to imagine every possible nightmare Leonard was facing. He wishes he could go back to the safety of ten minutes ago when it was speculation and a not certainty.

"You're friend had a very rare and specific skill set. Doctors don't come along that often, making them almost priceless. Yours proved to be more trouble than he was worth. I read the witness accounts. A lot of effort went into breaking him and when that failed, the only way to recoup some of that time, money and energy was to salvage the only thing they could- another body for manual labour. Lobotomizing slaves is just another tool in their arsenal. Especially ones hell bent on orchestrating escapes."

A manic laugh bubbles out of Jim. He can't help it. It crawls out of him like a frantic animal clawing and destroying in its frantic efforts to escape. Masterminding escapes and causing endless trouble is Jim's thing- not Leonard's. Leonard is a pacifist that bitches about their collective stupidity as they race headlong into danger. Except apparently not. When in dire straits, Leonard is not only willing to disturb the peace but excels at it.

"It's relatively easy to train them after you destroy their mind. If I've put the time line together correctly, I'd say they resorted to it about six months into his capture."

Six months. Right about the time Jim lost the Enterprise. He should have pushed harder, going after informants and prisoners with greater tenacity and threat. Maybe then he could have gotten to Leonard faster, actually rescued him.

"I also plotted his path through the slave network and can approximate they buyers, the trainers and enforcers involved in his captivity. It's fairly safe to say you can put any violations of a sexual nature out of your mind but the ultimate purchaser was a slaver named Ma'ltic who prides himself on being especially cruel. He likes a challenge and honestly given his reputation slaves would rather be put to death then serve him. He's a known buyer of G'blade," Thai shakes his head searching for the more appropriate standard word. "Black marked or last chance slaves."

"Last chance?" asks Jim, already not liking the answer.

"The ones marked for death. It's impressive Dr McCoy managed to protect that many of your people from worse fates. I don't have words to convey just how amazing it is that he actually organized some of their escapes."

Tears burn at the edges of Jim's eyes. On the surface it sounds extraordinary that Leonard would be the one but Jim's unsurprised. Leonard's compassion and reverence for life makes such a feat completely possible. It doesn't change the fact that Leonard was only forced into that position because Jim put him there. "How do we fix him now," chokes out Jim.

Thai looks regretful. "I'm sure medical has told you there is no fix."

"You think those reports even detail a fraction of what Leonard's capable of? You're wrong. I just need to get him over this hump and then it will be like it was before. You'll see," spits Jim.

"Jim," says Gaila with all the compassion and pity that everyone else offers that makes Jim's skin burn.

"You're not stuck with that feral animal they brought back, but Dr McCoy died out there," Thai cautions.

Jim tilts his head smugly. They don't know, none of them know Leonard the way he does. Jim will see Leonard prove them all wrong if it's the last thing he does. "You'll see."

"I hope you're right."

Jim opens the drawer in the side table, his hand hovering over it like it's not sure if it should go for the PADD or rip open the secret compartment and liberate the phaser. Saying no didn't work out too well for the last Orion that tried it. Jim grabs the PADD. Coercing answers from people hasn't worked out too well for Jim either. "Just tell me what I need to do to start bringing him out of this." He opens a blank file, ready to take notes.

Thai hesitates for moment. "He seems to respond poorly to his first name. At best they would have called him McCoy, though it's more likely he had an Orion name. Your best bet will be to resort to calling him McCoy. It will be less confusing."

"He has a daughter. It will probably be a stretch for her to call him McCoy," counters Jim.

"If you want to train him to respond to another name, start slow. Attach it to McCoy. You want him to go by Leonard, reinforce the idea of Leonard McCoy, then slowly drop the McCoy. They key to anything will be repetition, routine and short simple commands spoken with authority."

Jim starts to shake his head. "I'm not going to treat him like they did. I won't be his slave driver."

"Rescued slaves find comfort in it. It's safety in the familiar and whether you like it or not, that world has become familiar to him. You think you rescued him but he sees it as taking him away from everything he knows, his safe place such that it is."

Jim snorts. There was nothing safe about that place, nor what happened there.

"This isn't about your comfort or your very natural desire to comfort and coddle him after what he's endured. McCoy knew the rules there, what to expect and what the consequences were for breaking them. Here he doesn't know what you want for him or what will happen if he can't figure it out and that's dangerous for him. To reach him you have to employ his training no matter how distasteful you find it until he figures out a new rhythm for himself."

"I'm not torturing him or treating him like some work animal," protests Jim

"I'm not saying you should. But there are certain commands and expectations that he'll find comfort in, things that don't require thought he might no longer be capable of. He needs you to take control until we teach him how to take control himself again. There isn't an overnight fix here. It takes years and sometimes even then they're still unreachable."

Jim listens to every practice Thai was taught growing. He jots down thorough notes, careful to ignore the way his stomach rebels and his hand seems to tremble with each new detail. They continue well into the night and even after Gaila gives up and falls asleep in the arm chair.

Finally as dawn just begins to break, Jim finds the courage to ask the one question he's been putting off. "He has a daughter who wants to see him. She's eight. I need to know, will he hurt her in this state?" Jim can't imagine a world where Leonard could ever hurt Joanna. But it's his job to protect both of them now and no matter the state, he knows Leonard could never live with himself if he did harm her.

"Physically or emotionally?" asks Thai around a stifled yawn. "There's mention of a young girl in several of the witness accounts. While McCoy seemed to protect her for the most part, given the conclusion of that particular situation, he might react badly."

Jim shrinks dejectedly. He's spread thin with so many promises he can't hold up, he needed to be able to fulfil one.

"Like McCoy, you'll have to train her. Good news is she's young enough that learning how to work with McCoy will probably be easier for her than the rest of you."

"Thank god for small mercies," mumbles Jim, bitterly.

Thai tips his head like he can't argue that point.

Jim licks his lips, lubricating them for what he's going to try and force out next. "I want to know what it was like for him."

"I've painted a pretty accurate and complete picture for you tonight," replies Thai. He's been spilling details and scenarios for so long his throat is almost raw.

"I want to experience it first hand, to know what he expects from people, what he thinks we're going to do to him. I want to play it, know what it was like."

"You want to play slave?" asks Thai, sceptically.

Jim thinks it over for a few minutes, finally nodding. "If it's going to help me understand and get my friend back, I'll try anything."

Jim frantically taps his fingers against the wood railing of the gazebo. He's faced certain death, Klingons and furious time travelling Romulans and yet this makes him nervous. He hit the ground running the other day and hasn't slowed down since Thai armed him with a tentative game plan to get Leonard back on track. Normally he would have wanted to be more prepared for this meeting but like everything lately, he's up against an unforgiving clock that's never on his side.

"What's so important that we couldn't discuss it on vid chat?" asks Jocelyn in her soft yet deadly tone as she ascends the three stairs to the gazebo.

Jim takes a deep breath and tries to remember everything he learned in diplomacy class. He's doing this for Leonard. "I hope you're well this morning, Jocelyn," he greets with a forced smile that makes his cheeks hurt.

Jocelyn raises an eyebrow, not that dissimilar than Spock when he's trying to understand illogical human behavior. She crosses her arms, still managing to keep her immaculate manicure on display. "Make this quick, Captain, Joanna and I have a shuttle to catch."

Jim tries not to flinch under her glare that cuts down to his soul. He must miss Leonard something terribly because he can't help but see the similarities between Leonard and Jocelyn, secretly wondering what it would be like to watch two unmoving, stubborn giants fight and argue. "Now isn't the best time for Joanna to have the type of visit she wants with Leonard."

"Shame, she was looking forward to saying goodbye to her father before she leaves."

"Actually she can't leave for school," corrects Jim, delighting in causing her perfect smile to falter slightly. "According to your custody arrangement she has to reside on Earth for equal access for both parties." There's a certain joy that radiates from the words. Jocelyn, being a high class lawyer and architect of the McCoy divorce and custody agreement, used both to punish Leonard and keep him from Joanna as much as possible. If Leonard can't enjoy the irony of such an egregious document coming back to bit her in the ass, Jim sure as hell is.

It's probably just Jim's imagination but he swears the sun darkens a little and the crows start circling as she asks, "What would you know about my custody agreement?" Her air of superiority is on full display as she stares him down like a bug.

Jim doesn't flinch; he can't afford to. "I had my lawyer pull it. You can't take Joanna away from Leonard. He has rights."

Jocelyn smiles like she's about to execute the death warrant for a particularly annoying mosquito. "Leonard is not mentally capable of having parental rights, thus leaves me solely in charge of my daughter."

"No, but Leonard gave me his parental rights, meaning I have to have access to her, here, on Earth."

There's blood in the water now and something wildly dangerous flashes in those cold killer eyes. "That entitles you to vid calls and a very limited amount of physical custody at best. So limited in fact that I can send Joanna away to school as long as she visits Earth during school breaks to allow you said access. That is of course if I don't take you to court to re-evaluate the agreement on the grounds that you are unfit to have any kind of custody of my daughter."

"Oh I plan on challenging the amount of visitation allowed." Jim squares his shoulders and hands over his PADD. Jocelyn begins reading it immediately. "I already have a temporary injunction preventing you from taking her until we can go to family court and amend the agreement." He feels dizzy and so utterly out of his depth. Legal matters aren't his forte, unless you count his vast experience breaking the law. And being responsible for a little girl, Leonard's girl, of all things?

All pretence of her fake civility vanishes; Jim's in the ring with a professional legal killer now. "You may have survived your court-martial, Kirk, but family court isn't going to take too kindly to granting partial custody of a minor to a non biological parent who engages in torture and sedition. But I'd love to see you try." A smile forms on Jocelyn's face- a bright, evil smile. "In fact, let's see how well you do over the next four days."

Jim swallows. "Excuse me?" He's vastly unprepared to go to court right now, nor does he have the time. His lawyer assured him the soonest they could get in to discuss the matter would be weeks.

"I have to leave for business and now I can't take my daughter. That means her other guardian will have to be caretaker until my return. She's at the La Tour hotel with her nanny. You can pick her up before her nanny leaves to go back home today. I'll see you in four days Kirk. My only regret will be not being able to see the mess you're going to make first hand."

Jim stands there numbly as he watches Jocelyn walk away. He doesn't know what he won or if he even won this round.

It doesn't take much to clear Jim's work calendar; it's not like he has any real duties anyways. At best he's been a glorified paper pusher for the last six months and in the last two month since Leonard has been found, he's not even that. His social calendar is nonexistent so the only two considerations he needs to make via his time are his arranged meeting with Thai and his visits with Leonard. He has to hold his meeting with Thai because Jim can't stand the idea of waiting any longer to start making real progress with Leonard. His daily visits with Leonard can wait the four days until Joanna goes back home. The old Leonard would understand and the new Leonard won't know the difference even if Jim's rather sick at the idea of not being there.

What the hell do you even do with a little girl? Jim grew up with a brother and a series of parental units that subscribed to the free range child rearing method. The only guide he has is offhanded conversations and comments with Leonard. He's pretty sure Joanna's past the imaginary tea party stage but that leaves a whole wide universe of appropriate and inappropriate activities for him to screw up. Jim puts some serious consideration into checking the Federation database for another James T Kirk, because Leonard couldn't have possibly meant him as a suitable replacement. Jim's never even given the slightest hint that he can do this.

Jim's only watched Joanna once and that certainly wasn't planned. Jim clearly remembers the hesitancy in Leonard's eyes as he headed out the door to report for his emergency call in shift in medial that he couldn't find another cadet to take. Jim had to solemnly swear that if they had to leave the dorm room, he wouldn't take Joanna off campus and he wasn't allowed to bring over any girls to help him babysit. It was just Jim and Joanna for eight hours.

Being the fun 'Uncle', he loaded her up with pizza and ice cream and candy until she puked. An exhausted and dishevelled Leonard came home to a sick kid. Leonard wasn't mad, he just let out a long sigh saying, "Kids will do that," before heading over to his room to tend to his daughter, leaving Jim hovering in the living room all night waiting to see if there was anything he could do to rectify the situation. Jim never babysat again and to this day he still doesn't know if Leonard was talking about Joanna puking or Jim being irresponsible.

Jim takes a deep breath and presses the door chime to the hotel room. He's doing this for Leonard. The nanny smiles pleasantly as she answers the door, standing out of the way to allow Jim entrance. It's just the two of them there, Jocelyn already half way to where ever her career is taking her.

"Uncle Jim!" says Joanna with a level of excitement equivalent to the level of terror Jim feels as she bounces towards him. "Mama says I get to spend the weekend with you."

"Sure do," replies Jim, exchanging terror of enthusiasm in his voice. At least one of them is excited about this turn of events.

"Her bags are all packed, Sir," says the nanny, pointing to living room.

"Bags?" asks Jim, surprised to find a large assortment of luggage waiting. "It's four days," he sputters. It looks like she's packed to move in.

The nanny just smiles like it's a regular occurrence as Joanna starts to list off the contents and their importance. Jim packs fewer things when he's on the Enterprise.

"Are we ready?" asks Joanna like they're heading out on a grand adventure.

Jim wants to say no, he's not ready for any of this. Instead he puts his anxiety in trying to solve the problem of how he's going to manage dragging these bags across the city by himself.

The trip to the lobby is enough to convince him to call a car instead of navigating public transit. It would probably be a bad omen to reach home without everything intact and since he has four days to look forward to, better to start off right.

"Here we are," says Jim, opening the door to his place. Joanna oohs and awes as she walks in, checking out all the rooms and the view as Jim wrestles her bags into the living room. Jim's positive her home in Georgia is ten times larger, with grand stair cases and chandeliers that would make members of the historical society salivate. Apparently views of San Francisco from the hundredth floor of a Starfleet apartment complex is different enough to be exciting.

"Where am I going to sleep?" she asks after surveying the land.

Jim's place is very much a bachelor pad. He has one bedroom and since he's mostly away on his ship, he hasn't had any company here that he wasn't sharing a bed with. "Umm," he mumbles perplexed. He hadn't given the sleeping arrangements much thought. He didn't have much time to give any of this much thought. "You'll be staying in my room," he says, eyeing the couch. It's not that comfortable but it's better than Jocelyn finding away to use his lack of bedrooms against him in court somehow. "Just give me a sec to tidy it up. What something on TV," he adds.

Joanna shrugs nonchalantly, flopping down on the couch with a put-upon sigh. "Computer, turn on TV."

Jim hears the news pop up, going over the latest developments of the outer colonies briefly before being hastily change to something sounding a bit more kid friendly. He grabs his work stuff and crams it into the top drawer of his dresser making sure to lock it securely. He doubts Joanna would have any interest in it or any inclination to touch it, but the last thing he needs is to be brought up on charges about classified items falling into the wrong hands because she accidently leaked something trying to play a game.

He tries to remember the prep work Leonard did to their dorm before Joanna came to visit. She's not that young anymore but Jim remembers the type of things he got into as a child and there aren't enough precautions in the universe. He thinks she a little more behaved than he ever was. He grabs some clothes for tomorrow and his toiletries before vacating. "It's all yours," he says, heading to the guest bathroom to deposit his stuff.

"What's for dinner?" she asks, starting to drag her assorted luggage into Jim's bedroom.

"Ummm… what do you want?" Right, kids need three meals a day and replicator option four and a bottle of vodka isn't going to work here.

Joanna mumbles and groans something that sounds like 'I don't know' as she sets about putting her belongings away.

It's not like Jim's never had food before, but it's like every suitable dinner option has been sucked from his brain. Normally this would be where Leonard scolds him for not eating and taking care of himself very well for the last year. The only thing floating around his head is pizza and ice cream and he knows how that turns out.

Jim makes a hasty call, shoulders sagging in relief when Sulu answers. "Captain Kirk," greets Sulu brightly, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" There's sounds of Ben and their daughter playing in the background.

"I need your help. Leonard's daughter's here, and I have to feed her, and what do kids even eat?" he asks utterly perplexed and feeling a little stupid.

Sulu laughs. Kirk is the last person he thought he'd be giving parenting advice to. "It depends on the day. I'll send you a bunch of Demora's favourite dinner replicator recipes. I'm sure one of them will be a hit."

"Thanks Sulu."

"How's it going otherwise?" asks Sulu, looking sympathetic.

Jim looks a little pained. "Ask me in four days?"

"It will be fine Captain. And as a helpful hint, there's a children's festival in the park on Saturday. It's a good way to kill an afternoon with family fun."

"Can we go?" pleads Joanna jumping up on the couch to kneel next to Jim. "Pleeeease?"

"I have to go, Sulu." Jim flips his communicator closed. "We'll see. I have some things to do Saturday, so I don't know if I'll have time to take you."

"Okay," says Joanna dejectedly, slumping down on the couch.

And doesn't Jim feel like a heel. The kid's asked for two things from Jim, her father and going to a festival and he's denying her both. "I'll do what I can." Those words feel especially hollow since the best Jim can do has been far from adequate this last year.

"That's what all adults say," she says, sullen and quiet. She tilts her head the same way Leonard does when he's burdened with monotonous tasks he loathes and goes back to silently watching a program on the life cycles of Platic Dragon butterflies.

Jim lies there, feeling like he didn't get any sleep at all. It's probably true; most of the night was devoted to tossing and turning both because the couch is not meant for sleeping and he refrained from using Johnny Walker to beat the voices in his head into submission. Today's going to go better, he tells himself, nothing but fun and distractions.

He slowly blinks his eyes open, a dark looming shadow before him. "Shit!" He scrambles back against the arm rest of the couch, trying to put some usable distance between himself and his attacker.

"Morning, Uncle Jim," says Joanna cheerily. "Mom says that's not a good word."

Jim lets out a long breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Realizing the threat is nonexistent, he slowly uncurls, putting his feet on the floor. "It's not. Don't use it," mutters Jim, cradling his aching head. A near heart attack and no sleep isn't the best morning combination. He's also highly suspect that it's the first time Joanna's heard the word and far worse given her father is Leonard. "I use lots of bad words. Try not to repeat them."

"Hummm," hums Joanna, pursing her lips together the same way her father does when he's analyzing something.

It's so eerily familiar considering Jocelyn denies Leonard access to Joanna at every turn. How does someone inherit a facial expression? Jim wonders what kind of mannerisms he mirrors of his own father and if he'll ever know which ones. George Kirk died when he was born; when Jim looks in the mirror, all he sees is himself. Is it a blessing or a curse to see something of someone else there? Jim raises his hand helplessly. "What were you doing?" Because the creep factor of having someone watch him while he sleeps is a little more than he was prepared for today.

"Waiting for you to get up," says Joanna, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "What are we going to do today? Can we finally go see Daddy?" She quickly climbs onto the couch next to Jim.

Thank you, Jocelyn for not explaining that little gem. Is it too much to ask that she tell Joanna it's not going to happen this visit? Now that that particular bomb is still in play, Jim has to re-plan his game plan. "Computer, what time is it?"

"It is zero six hundred hours."

Dear god, why? "What are you even doing up right now?" Jim wasn't planning on having to get the day started for another couple of hours; now he has even more time to fill. Joanna's all dressed and ready to attack the day and Jim's still trying to summon the energy to attempt wrangling himself some coffee.

Joanna shrugs, wrapping Jim's blanket around herself. "I wasn't tired anymore. It happens when you go to bed at eight. And I wanted to be ready."

Clearly eight o'clock was too early a bedtime. Jim licks his lips. He doesn't know how to even have this conversation with her. "Jo," he says softly. She looks up at him with big green eyes full of hope and the words die in his throat. Straight and honest, like ripping off a bandage, he reminds himself. "You're not going to… waste time having breakfast here. I wanted to show you all the sights of San Francisco and we'll start by having breakfast at a bistro I found during my first year at the academy," he says, diverting hard from the truth. 'See your dad' just wouldn't vocalize.

"Okay."

She seems content with the answer but like her father, Jim imagines she's keeping score of all the things he doesn't say or avoids saying. "I'm just going to grab a shower and then we'll go."

Jim climbs into the sonic shower and lets his head bang against the wall. Obviously the only thing the last eight month have taught him is to be a coward.

Sightseeing is evidently, exhausting. Jim's just about to call Joanna to dinner when he realizes she's fallen asleep on the couch. It's only six pm but Jim doesn't have the heart to wake her. He also hasn't gotten the nerve to break her heart all over again. Telling her Leonard was missing was one of the hardest things he's ever had to do.

Carefully he scoops the girl up and carries her to the bedroom. He takes off her shoes and socks before tucking her in and making sure the stuffed pla'tah Leonard bought at an off world flee market during shore leave one time, is safely under her arm.

He seizes this opportunity free of prying ears to contact the hospital and get an update. Under Thai's recommendation, Jim sent a list of approaches the staff and therapists should try so that all parties are using the same methods. It's being implemented with varying results and effort from the staff. If anything, Leonard's just as defiant as ever but the nurse assures him, it's simply growing pains and progress takes more than two days. Jim can't help but feel that maybe some of that turmoil is because Jim's disrupted Leonard's routine by not being there.

The next challenge Jim's facing is what to do with Joanna tomorrow when he attends his session with Thai. Learning the life of an Orion slave isn't for anyone, certainly not a child, so it's not like he can take her with him. He goes through his rolodex of friends and finds there are very few he trusts with Joanna.

Uhura and Spock have gone for the weekend. Jim assumes some long overdue romantic trip away from all the tragedy and loss. Pike's probably the best pseudo parent Jim can think of, but the mental image of Joanna turning Pike's office at Headquarters into a stuffed animal menagerie during important meetings is enough to make him reconsider. Asking a superior officer to babysit just feels over the line somehow.

He trusts Scotty with his life but asking him to mind an eight year old girl seems a bit of a stretch. He'd likely lose her in the bowls of the ship somewhere. Sulu has family plans and given the limited quality time the helmsman gets to spend with his daughter, Jim doesn't want to infringe.

Christine's working extra shifts, mostly so she can check in on Leonard while Jim's otherwise engaged. To ask her to tend to his daughter too, seems a little excessive. Gaila's still in town and while she's an adventure and a half, Jim questions the wisdom of giving her quality time to corrupt Joanna. She has even less of a filter than Jim does and the last thing he needs on his conscience is turning Leonard's prim and proper little girl into a hellish wild child like he or Gaila. There's really only one choice.

Jim sets his alarm for five am, just to be safe and prepares for another restless night. He's responsible for Joanna for four days and it's a crippling monumental task. How does he mange it for the rest of his life?

It's like implementing battle strategies. Jim maneuvers around the apartment, making breakfast and getting ready all before the sleeping angel in the next room begins to stir. He's contemplating waking her up as eight am rolls around when a god awful sounds starts radiating from the bedroom.

"What the hell's going on?" yells Jim to be heard over the noise as he enters the bedroom.

Joanna lowers her violin letting the bow rest at her side. "Ma says I have to practice every other day. And that's another bad word."

Jim frowns and mentally chastises himself. "I didn't know you played the violin." Jim has some recollection of Leonard mentioning piano lessons and something with horses and maybe a flute but nothing about a violin.

"I just started," she answers, raising the instrument to her chin.

That much Jim surmised by the noise it was making. The bow scrapes across the first string with an ear shattering scream that sets his nerves on edge. "How about breakfast and then practicing?" Give him some time to replicate a pair of earplugs.

Joanna chews on her lip as she mulls it over. "Alright." She careful places the instrument back in its case beside another case that looks suspiciously like another instrument and heads out to the kitchen.

"How many instruments do you play?" he asks wrapping his hands lovingly around his morning coffee.

"Five," she yawns, resting her elbow on the table and pillowing her head.

He fills her glass with fresh orange juice. Jim feels like he's earned points here. He's presented a well balanced breakfast, Dr McCoy would be proud of. "That's a lot of extracurricular."

"I play five instruments. My extracurriculars also include show jumping, volleyball, debate, French club and etiquette class. Ma says it will look good on my university applications.

"You're eight," counters Jim. His hobbies at eight included playing with parts in his dad's workshop, stealing apples out of the McKinnel's orchard and hustling other kids for their lunch credits at school.

"Tell that to Ma. I'm supposed to be well rounded, but I don't think that's all necessary for medical school." Joanna's nose wrinkles as she looks over the gargantuan spread. "Is it alright if I just have a bowl of cereal? I do have a lot of homework."

"Yeah," says Jim slightly dejected that his breakfast's been passed over. Homework- probably something he should have asked about or at the very least set aside time for. Is that something he's supposed to help with or let her figure out on her own? Jim never had penchant or inclination to do homework and there certainly wasn't anyone making sure it was getting done beyond a few stern lectures after parent teacher conferences. "You want to be a doctor?"

"I don't want to be a lawyer like Ma, but I know she wants me to be one. Daddy always seems to like his job, except when it makes him sad," she replies like they're the only two options in the universe.

The door chimes, putting a halt to the conversation, though Jim makes a mental bookmark to come back to it at some point. Joanna turns in her chair to watch as Jim goes to answer it.

"Jo, I want to introduce you to my friend Pavel," says Jim, leading Chekov back to the kitchen table. It's only when his painfully young Ensign is standing next to an actual child does he realize just how young Chekov is and how very much this feels like hiring a babysitter for the evening. He trusts his crew to run a starship, to perform with grace under extreme pressure, and yet he has a sense of unease about entrusting them with an eight year old girl.

"It's nice to meet you, Pavel," greets Joanna, extending her hand out.

"The pleasure is mine," replies Chekov taking her much smaller hand in his and giving it a gentle shake.

"I have a meeting I have to attend, but Pavel here," says Jim, clapping him on the shoulder, "is going to take you to that children's festival in the park Sulu mentioned. I hear there's going to be arts and crafts, performances, music and dancing. Should be fun." Honestly Jim has no clue if Joanna's even into any of that, but he's out of ideas and activities to distract her with forty-eight hours still on the clock.

"Yes, we'll have a good time," agrees Chekov hopefully. The last thing he wants to do is mess today up; the Captain will never trust him with another task again.

"I don't know," hums Joanna, as she mulls the idea over.

"You'd rather stay here to do homework and practice your violin?" asks Jim.

"Well if those are the only options, I'll get my coat," says Joanna, jumping off her chair and running to the bedroom.

"To the park and then back here before dark," instructs Jim. "Grab some lunch at the park but try to find something with a vegetable in it. I have some dinner options that Sulu gave me programmed into the replicator and I'll program your door access into my place. I don't think I'll be too late but bed time is definitely nine pm."

Chekov stands at attention. "Yes, Captain."

"And I don't care if you have to cause an intergalactic incident, you do not let her out of your sight. Do you hear me?"

"Understood."

"You're not coming at all, Uncle Jim?" There's a hesitancy in Joanna's voice as she takes a step back towards the bedroom.

"No, but I'll be home tonight." Jim reaches into his pocket and pulls out a communicator. He gets down on one knee and presses it into her hands, placing his hands around hers. "This belongs to your father. Take it so you can call me anytime you need me. My communicator is programmed in there and Chekov is a whiz with electronics if you need help. You're going to have fun."

Joanna turns the communicator over in her hand a few times before placing it securely in her pocket. "Alright." She walks over and takes Chekov by the hand, leading him to the door. "We don't want to be late, Mr Chekov, all the good craft pieces might be gone and then where will we be."

Chekov looks back helplessly at Jim as he's dragged out the door.

Jim stops quickly at the lounge in the hotel across the street before heading home just to get something to settle his nerves. The last thing Joanna needs to see is Jim falling apart. Especially when he's been dodging her questions with acrobatic skill so far; any questionable behaviour is going to blow the lid wide open on that can of worms. One quick drink won't hurt. It leads to two more because numbing his nerves has to be better than walking back into his apartment irritable and bitchy. And the couch is terribly uncomfortable; a few drinks will just ensure he finally gets some sleep.

Jim stumbles in the door some time after ten. He doesn't know what he thought it was going to be like getting hands on experience from Thai, but that wasn't it. The whole thing was far too real in a way that's left Jim raw and exposed. What's worse is at the end of the session, Jim gets to pick up and leave, back to his life like none of it matters. Leonard never got to leave, he never got to go home. The last year was a never ending nightmare that even Jim's self-flagellating ass can't replicate. But by god, he's certainly going to try.

Jim scheduled another session next week.

Chekov's ready and waiting for Jim to return with all the activities Joanna participated in today. "And I read her a bed time story," he declares proudly. "It's an old Russian tale about a wicked step mother, a prince and a fairy godmother that gives a girl glass slippers. But I could not get her to go to sleep."

"You mean Cinderella? Perhaps the evil step mother hit too close to home." Jim's not sure how he feels about potentially being on the hook for future bedtime stories.

"Da. I also sang a lullaby, but it did not work. I did not succeed today," he reports.

Jim would have paid real honest money to see that performance. "It's fine, Chekov," assures Jim, because he can't take that kicked puppy dog look from two kids tonight. "You did an excellent job. I've got it from here."

Jim stands there long after Chekov's slipped out the door. He's not exactly any more qualified for this than his young ensign. Lullabies and fairytales aren't exactly his forte. The best he can do is look for monsters under the bed, but he hasn't done such a good job of protecting McCoy's from monsters so far.

"Hey," he says softly, entering the bedroom. "Chekov says you can't sleep."

Joanna shakes her head with big tear filled eyes and pulls the blankets tighter around herself leaving a spot for Jim to sit.

Jim perches on the edge of the mattress. "You want to talk about it?"

"What's cognitive impairment?" The simple question explodes out of the little girl.

Jim goes cold. The universe is too cruel to be coincidental. "Why would you ask that?" It's probably too much to hope to dodge this phaser blast. He doubts Chekov would have said anything and Joanna wouldn't still be asking about Leonard if Jocelyn had told her more than Leonard's sick.

"It's what's wrong with Daddy, isn't it? Is that why I can't see him? It's what's making him act funny. Is it contagious or something?"

All the questions make Jim's head spin. He's busy trying to formulate appropriate answers when it dawns on him exactly what Joanna is saying. "How do you know he's acting different?" asks Jim still trying to put the pieces together. "And where did you hear the term cognitive impairment?"

Joanna bites her lips, looking everywhere but at Jim.

"Joanna," he says sternly.

Joanna lifts her hand from under the blanket presenting the communicator. "Daddy's communicator has access to all his personal information including the links to his personnel files which I was able to access on my PADD with his serial number. Nobody will tell me what's happening so I looked at the medial files and there was a vid," she confesses sheepishly.

"You hacked into your father's medical files?" says Jim in disbelief. "You're eight. How did you get encrypted files without his clearance code."

"I know my own birthday," she replies defensively.

Of course Leonard would use his daughter's birthday for his personal security code for non ship related purposes. Jim wants to be mad; there are so many things Joanna shouldn't have done but he essentially gave her the keys to the kingdom. And really, it's what he would have done. "Joanna, you can't read classified files even if you can figure out people's passwords and codes. If it was information you were supposed to have we would have given it to you." God does he sound like Captain Pike right now.

"But you're not telling me anything," she says.

She's right. Jim's been dancing around the topic for months and for all Jocelyn seems like the devil, she hasn't really said anything to Joanna either. It's probably unfair to keep her in the dark but the cold light of day brings a reality far worse than knowing what the adults know. Or does it? Jim spent months not knowing and it wasn't a better place than he is in now. He begins to wonder just who he's been protecting here.

"Is he dying? Or does he just not want to see me?" she asks in a small broken voice that shatters Jim's heart into a million pieces.

"Wh- why would you ask that?" utters Jim, trying to get his brain to work out just how to explain things. In all their attempts to shield Joanna, they let her conjure up an even worse case scenario.

"When Grand-daddy was dying they wouldn't tell me anything. And if Daddy's not that sick he would see me. I've been waiting to hear from him for forever and he's always talked to me before when he wasn't feeling well. So he must not want to see me."

Jim wraps his arms around Joanna and pulls her close. "No, Jo. He's not dying and the decision to not see isn't his, it's mine. I'm the one that won't let you see him," he says, face pressed against the top of her head.

"Why would you do that?" she mumbles into his shirt.

Jim takes a deep breath. "It's complicated. Your Dad, he's not the way you remember him," says Jim, replaying the observation vid in Leonard's medical files in his head. "The doctors don't believe he'll ever be the way we remember him again and I guess, I just want to protect you from that." He can feel her release a shuddering breath against his chest.

The one person in the whole universe qualified for this kind of a conversation is the one person who it's about. Jim watched Leonard break the hard news about a patient's death to their family once. It was at the end of a seventy-four hour shift during an outbreak the Enterprise had been sent to bring aid to. Leonard had lost eight patients that day. Jim sat there in the corner trying to be helpful by opening crates and sorting vials and watched as Leonard broke the news. Jim was amazed how calm and empathetic Leonard was and how he managed to make something so horrible feel a little less devastating.

The thing Jim envies most right now, is how easy Leonard had made that look.

Joanna pulls back to look Jim in the eye with her own tear laden eyes that are the exact same green as Leonard's. "So he won't be my Daddy anymore?"

"He'll always be your Daddy, Jo. Nothing in the universe will ever change that. It will just be different. Cognitive impairment is just their fancy way of saying that the people that took your dad damaged his brain. Right now the medical team made up of all the people who respect and love your dad are working hard to re-teach him things like feeding himself, getting dressed on his own, even how to talk."

"Like Daddy did with me when I was little?"

"Exactly. I didn't think it would be good for you to see him yet because he's still really confused and doesn't recognize his friends or where he is. There's a good chance he won't remember you right away."

"I still want to see him," she whispers.

"You sleep on it and if in the morning you still want to, we can go down to medical," says Jim, stroking her hair. It's probably not a good idea but it's the first things that's felt slightly right in a really long time.

Jim tucks Joanna back in and heads for the door.

"Uncle Jim!" calls Joanna. Jim turns. "Can you tell me the story of how you and Daddy met? I think I might be able to fall asleep if you tell me a story."

"Alright," he agrees, settling next to her in the bed. She falls asleep halfway through Jim and Leonard's encounter on the shuttle. Jim falls asleep himself just as he gets to their first full day at the academy. They both sleep through until morning curled up together.

Time is painfully slow when there's no way to mark its passage. Their captors aren't using the lights to simulate day and night, rather to keep their captives confused and on edge, by turning them on and off for different intervals. Leonard chooses to count the days by when their meals arrive. They get a thick mush at what Leonard's dubbed morning and some sort of pressed meat with something resembling bread at dinner. He's going to make Jim buy him an extravagant dinner every night of shore leave for every day he has to stomach this swill. So far he has six meals coming to him. And Jim better not forget the peach cobbler for dessert.

Day dreaming about improbable vacations is far better than his current company. Xanders hasn't breathed a word since Leonard convinced her to let go of Clark's body. He'd be concerned but there isn't a hell of a lot he can do given the circumstances and she's at least attempting to eat breakfast. Clark just stares accusingly at Leonard with his dead eyes from the corner Leonard placed the body; their captors unwilling to burden themselves with disposing of a corpse.

The girl is as much of a conversationalist as Xanders is. She cowers in one corner like a timid mouse, watching everything Leonard does with great hesitation. Leonard's fine to give her her space but it'd be nice to have a name for the face. The biggest interaction they've had is the rare occasion Leonard can coax her out of her corner with the promise of a piece of bread in an outstretched hand, like trying to feed a squirrel.

It leaves moral solely in Leonard's hands. Who is he kidding, he's no cheerleader. He misses Jim, who always has the right thing to say in these situations- or at least something to say to drive back the haunting lonely silence. He'd even settle for Spock's technical babble, Sulu's botany revelations or Chekov's exaggerated history lessons right now. All things that are getting further and further away with each passing day the Enterprise doesn't show up to rescue them.

They're still alive; Leonard has to hold on to that. He adds perspective to his list of things at his disposal and vows not to lose it. As long as they're breathing, Jim can find them; he can see his little girl again.

Day eight brings something new to Leonard's routine. Breakfast never comes and there seems to be more guards patrolling around the over head walkway. Leonard wonders how many cells they watch over and prays there aren't other members of the away team tucked away in them. Leonard's never been that luck and thus isn't overly hopeful. The ship also drops out of warp. It's not like there's a huge difference in the feeling of a ship as it travels from warp to impulse but when all you can do is sit there and stare at rusted walls, you notice the subtle change.

The door to the cell opens and two guards storm in with weapons drawn shouting in their native language. Leonard slowly rises to his feet with his hands raised in the air. "We don't have our translators anymore," he says slowly, careful to enunciate, like it will make a difference. Their captor were nice enough to take everything from them except the clothes on their backs. It's left them at a deadly disadvantage. "We can't understand you."

It's apparently the wrong thing to say, because one of the guards takes an aggressive step forward, screaming louder and jabbing his weapon towards them for emphasis. Their lack of comprehension doesn't seem to concern him considering the point is rather universal.

"We need our translators," insists Leonard, getting clocked in the head for his trouble. The impact of the hard metal butt of the weapon against his temple sends him crashing to ground.

The guard continues to yell, pointing towards the young girl who's scurried out of her corner to kneel on the ground in front of the other guard with her forehead pressed to the ground and her hands splayed above her head forming a triangle. The angry guard points towards the girl, raising his gun to hit Leonard again.

"Alright," snaps Leonard, "we get the point." Clearly they want them to follow the girl's lead. "Evelyn," says Leonard, nodding his head towards their example. He waits until Xanders has folded herself on the floor before he complies himself.

The guards use the submissive positions as an opportunity to shackle their hands and feet. At least they're nice enough to roughly pick the prisoners up and place them on their feet since the binds would make it almost impossible to accomplish alone. From there Leonard and company are marched out of their cell into a humid hallway, falling in line with other prisoners being marched out of their cells.

There are all sorts of species present; most Leonard can identify, some he cannot. Through the crowds of people he's able to zero in on the unmistakable red, blue and gold uniform tops of his people. Leonard breathes a sigh of relief. If they're walking they're alive and if others from the away team have to be here, at least they're alive.

The Enterprise captives all get corralled together, ushered down a long narrow hallway away from the crowded docking ring. No one speaks under the watchful eye of the guards but they share poignant glances between each other, filled with relief, exhaustion, terror and fear.

It doesn't take the universal translator to decipher the harsh shove from one the of guards- get in line, single file. Leonard capitulates because this is hardly the place or reason to start a fight. There's a group ahead of them, not a speices Leonard recognizes but they're all dressed the same so they must be another crew that fell victim too. Leonard watches as they're ushered through a series of scanners before being led out of the room.

"Blue shirt," says one of the guards, pushing Leonard forward onto the shiny glass floor of the scanner.

"Science or medical, might be of use," the translator chirps for the tech running the machine as he types in his notes on his PADD.

"Doctor," Leonard corrects as the scan begins. "CMO to be precise." It's more than just a boast about all his years of hard work and dedication, it's a clear and precise target that he is the highest ranking officer among his people here. Whatever these slavers' plans are, they start with Leonard.

The officer heeds Leonard little attention, focusing on the read out instead. "Healthy middle aged male," he reports, documenting the information.

Leonard could have told them that if anybody bothered to ask. He's not sure if his evaluation is in his favour or not, but it gets him yanked off of the scanner and shoved to the left side of the room where another officer is waiting with a long needle looking device in hand. Leonard's escort pushes him down onto an examination chair and holds his head in place. The officer jabs the device against Leonard's neck with a sharp prick and a rush of cold crawling under his skin. Leonard lifts his chained hands to rub at the sore spot. "Where'd you learn to practice medicine?" he bitches, while carefully watching the rest of his team make their way through the line. "You obviously missed the lesson on bedside manner."

Caroline Chen is next up on the scanner, looking shell shocked and a little green. Considering young Clark's fate, Leonard is relieved at her status.

"Also medical or science," reports the tech.

"She's a nurse," says Leonard, keeping an eye on Chen as they take a blood sample from him. If having medical training is seen as useful, then Leonard's damn well going to exult his team's virtues. Valuable or being problematic; If they're seen as a threat there won't be a reason to keep them alive and they all need to be alive when rescue arrives.

"Young female," notes the tech as the guard seizes the opportunity to slide his hand under her skirt as he moves her forward off the scanner.

"Hey!" barks Leonard, trying to take a step back towards the scanner to instil the lessons about how to treat a lady and keeping one's hands to themselves that these cretins' mothers never taught them.

The move earns Leonard a quick but effective blow to the head with the blunt end of a phaser rifle. The blow sends him to his knees, the room spinning and sound echoing as his head protests. He's on his way to a concussion if he hasn't earned one already.

"Doctor McCoy!" shouts John Brite, trying desperately to shove off his guards and aid Leonard.

Leonard raises his hands to halt Brite's efforts before the young engineer receives the same treatment. "It's fine Ensign," he says, getting to his feet awkwardly; the shackles limiting his uncoordinated movements. It's not; nothing about their situation is fine, but he doesn't need anyone getting hurt on his behalf. Apparently in Jim's absence, Leonard is more than willing to take on the roll of group punching bag. After they're rescued, he'll conduct a study on just how many brain cells are compromised compared to one's level of command because he's certainly not going to tell Jim he understands the compulsion to take the brunt of things to protect his subordinates. Jim doesn't need that kind of endorsement for the stupid stunts the kid pulls.

The guard grabs Leonard and shoves him further down the line to the next station; the rough handling doing nothing for his spinning head.

Brite is shoved onto the scanner. "Red shirt."

"Security or engineering. Could be dangerous or good for manual labour. Possible neutralization," notes the tech, before signalling the guard to haul Brite to the right side of the room

"He's an engineer," pants Leonard. "He's not a threat, he fixes things."

"Silence," sneers the Orion towering over Leonard. He lifts his phaser rifle to emphasise his threat.

"Take him away," says the tech, waving a dismissive hand in Brite's direction.

Panic starts to rise in Leonard. They have to stay together. Being separated could make them harder to find. Being separated means they can't look out for one another. They've already lost Clark, they can't lose anyone else.

"We're Starfleet officers, you can't…" protests Leonard. The guard backhands him hard enough he cuts his cheek on his teeth, filling his mouth with blood. Leonard got the point the first time, but sometimes his mouth has other ideas. So much for not being more trouble than he's worth.

"You are nothing now. You're only purpose is to please and serve your masters, either with service, labour or pleasures of the flash," snaps the tech running the operation.

Leonard sees the way the guards are eyeing Chen. "We won't," states Leonard simply in a low neutral tone. "There's still time to set us down on a planet somewhere and save yourselves a lot of effort." Not to mention an irate Captain with the backing of one of the best ships in the fleet.

"You will. They all do in the end," the tech corrects with a sickening smile as Leonard's hit with a bolt of electricity that brings him to his knees and the cold but welcoming embrace of darkness.

Jim thought losing Leonard was the hardest thing he'd go through. Getting him back broken, was harder. Explaining things to Joanna- even more so. Sitting in the observation room of Leonard's physical therapy session with Joanna as she sees just what those slavers left of her father for the first time- currently in first place. Jim's re-evaluating his definition of agony.

He wonders how much she actually knows; she's Leonard's daughter after all. Jim's picked up a few medical things from Leonard in the short time they've been friends. Can she tell that he's calm and docile during this session from the constant sedation that's marked by his glassy eyes and general listlessness. Does she know it's preferable to the screaming and panicking in a corner? Jim's had concerns about the liberal use of drugs, but today he's grateful for it.

Joanna took his hand about a minute after they sat down; just loosely entwined her small fingers with Jim's. She squeezes harder though as Leonard fumbles the small red ball. It bounces off the table in small little hops until it gets to the edge where the firm rubber takes its defining plunge, smacking the floor with a muted thud, instead of back to the therapist. It bounces along its new larger space, each hop getting smaller until it slowly rolls its way to the corner to rebound a few times against the wall before lying dead.

Leonard doesn't lift his head but he watches the ball out of the corner of his eye. It lays there, discarded and useless as the man dressed in pristine white plucks a shiny blue ball from his pocket and pushes it across the table to rest against Leonard's curled hand.

"His hand shakes," says Joanna, never taking her eyes off of her father. "It never used to shake."

"No," agrees Jim. Leonard had the steadiest hands in the fleet, the hands of a gifted surgeon. Now they shake and fumble like an old man unable to perform the simple task of rolling a ball back to his therapist.

"Maybe he would do better if he used his right hand," she says letting her head fall against Jim's shoulder.

Jim's brow creases. "What do you mean?"

"Daddy's right handed, like me. Mommy's the one who's left handed."

Jim wants to say Leonard's ambidextrous, requiring proficiency with both hands but as he thinks about it, outside of medical, Leonard is right handed. Except ever since his return, Leonard has been keeping his right hand curled and tucked close to his body. Every session Jim's watched, Leonard attempts the tasks with his left hand. He didn't really pay it any attention; since the therapists never prompt which hand to use, Jim just assumed like most people, Leonard would comply with his dominant hand. He plans on going over the medical evaluations tonight with a fine toothed comb. "I'll mention it next time."

Joanna sits quietly for awhile before asking, "Can we go in and talk to him?"

Jim licks his lips. Rock, meet an even harder place. He doesn't know if what they're doing now is even advisable for Joanna; walking in that room is a whole other ballgame. Leonard hasn't demonstrated any violent tendencies beyond fight or flight. Joanna is probably the least threatening out of everyone but after what happened with the Orion girl from the ship… Jim doesn't want to have to add Joanna watching Jim stun her father in front of her to his list of difficult decisions.

"He isn't really up to talking to people right now. There are a lot of new faces and it confuses him. But I promise when he gets settled, we can absolutely spend some time with him." Leonard actually hasn't said anything at all. He's been mute except incoherent whimpers and screams. A speech therapist is scheduled in Leonard's future but medical isn't exactly confident it will make a difference.

"You mean he's going to get to come home soon?" asks Joanna with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Jim chooses his words carefully. He's dropped enough bombs, he has to be subtle about this. "Your Dad's going to leave the hospital but he can't live in his home anymore. He can't be left alone there."

"Of course not. He'll live with you. You always take care of Daddy," says Joanna with all the certainty that the sun will rise in the East.

"It doesn't work like that, Jo."

"Why not? Where else will he live? Are you going to send him away?"

Leonard never warned Jim that those big sad green eyes could be so deadly. "He needs a place that has special nurses and doctors around and people to keep an eye on him. I'm working really hard to find the best place possible," he promises, even though he's been coming up empty so far. "I'm going to make sure you can visit your Daddy."

Jim's embarrassed at the rush of relief that floods him as he sees Jocelyn step off the shuttle onto the platform. It's not even like Joanna's a bad kid or a handful like Jim was at that age, it's just overwhelming to be responsible for someone that young and that important to his best friend. Jim doubts he's cut out for this long term and still can't figure out what Leonard was thinking. There's a dozen people on the Enterprise alone that would be better suited for this responsibility.

Jocelyn covers half the platform before catching sight of them, Joanna waving excitedly. She stops, waving her daughter over as she taps her foot in expectation.

Jim thought he would be subjected to a complete interrogation of the last four days but Joanna's report will probably be more revealing than anything Jim could attest to. There's a selfish part of him that wants to be found unfit, for Jocelyn to win the battle over a sweet little girl that can't possibly benefit from Jim's influence. Jim's not sure he'd be able to bring himself to look Leonard in the eye if he didn't pursue this with everything he has. Leonard may not even know he has a daughter anymore but Jim can't look at the man they brought back as anything other than his best friend.

Then there's another part that's been relieved to have Joanna around, not only for the distraction but because it's like having a little piece of Leonard back. It's also nice to be around another soul that understands, that feels the enormity of the loss in their soul the way that Jim does.

Joanna let's go of Jim's hand and he's amazed at how empty it feel.

"Thank you for having me, Uncle Jim," she says taking her backpack from Jim's other hand. The rest of her assorted luggage, this time less meticulously packed, is already loaded into baggage claim for her and Jocelyn's trip back to Georgia. "You'll probably want this back," she adds softly, in a sullen tone as she holds out Leonard's communicator.

Jim wraps his hands around hers as he kneels down in front of her. Gently he closes her fingers around the device. "Why don't you hold onto that for awhile," he suggests. It's probably not the best parenting move considering the trouble she's already found by keeping it, but Jim's never been the conventional type. Besides, giving Joanna a communicator, Leonard's to boot, without Jocelyn's approval is a little bit thrilling in an all hands on deck, red alert, kind of way. "If you need to get a hold of me you have a way. But that's all you use it for. No more breaking into secure files or pulling records, got it?" he adds tapping Joanna gently on the tip of her nose. "Just because you can doesn't mean you should."

"Okay," Joanna agrees with a big bright smile that makes all the stars in the night sky jealous. "I promise." She gives Jim a brief hug before running off to greet her mother.

Jim stands there and watches them leave. Then stands there a little longer. Home, which seems unappealing to start with, feels even lonelier now that Joanna won't be there. That leaves going to the hospital. Armed with his first lessons from Thai, Jim feels hesitant to walk in there and actually implement them.

Jim quietly stands beside Christine at the observation window overlooking one of the therapy rooms. Leonard doesn't have a session; the nurses bring him there for his meals. Leonard can't really navigate the ward dining hall and it's easier to clean up any messes here than in his room. Plus, Leonard's poor coordination makes using utensils difficult requiring a staff member to practically feed him. Except for tonight, where Leonard appears to be alone staring at his plate of dry cereal pieces that are at least manageable finger food.

"How was Joanna's visit?" asks Christine.

Jim doesn't have to look at Christine to know how tired she is. He can hear it in the tight restraint in her normally melodic voice. Besides him, Christine has been at Leonard's side the most, helping whenever possible in her spare time. Jim's thought about speaking to Pike about transferring Christine to Starfleet medical, giving her a position here so she doesn't have to pull duty shifts and then volunteer her time here. It's not his place to make that decision though and Christine's never asked about it. When the Enterprise leaves on its next mission, she'll go with it and Jim can't bring himself to clip those silver wings of freedom that comes with knowing there's an easy out from having to sit here and watch Leonard like this. Jim's actually a little envious of that option.

"It was good. She's gotten big," replies Jim.

"They do grow up fast. Probably faster than most considering."

Jim can't argue that. There's a certain weight that befalls kids when a parent dies. Even Jim who was barely a minute old when his father died in the line of duty feels it every moment of his life.

Leonard just sits at his table staring at the plate of cereal, never moving to touch any or noticing the audience of two gathered to watch him from up high.

"Has he eaten anything?" Jim asks after a couple of minutes.

Christine shakes her head. "No. He just stares at the plate. It's such a fight to feed him they thought he might do better if it was something he could eat on his own. I don't know if he just doesn't like it or doesn't know what to do with it."

Jim lets out a long breath. "Okay." He reaches out and places his hand on Christine's shoulder. "You should go home and get some sleep. I've got it from here."

Christine looks hesitant, shifting from foot to foot. Leaving always feels like giving up. Maybe that extra five minutes might make the difference between another bad day and a breakthrough? Professionally she knows it won't but when it's someone you care about and not just a patient, it gets harder to tell. "Alright, but I'll stop by tomorrow before my shift."

Jim slowly enters careful to limit the noise he makes as he sits down across from Leonard. "Hey, Leonard McCoy," he says softly. The words get tangled on his tongue; he can't remember ever really using Leonard's full name and certainly not in such a private setting. Bones just doesn't seem appropriate anymore, like Jim's trying to summon a ghost he's told will never appear. Thai suggested if Jim wanted to get away from always calling him McCoy, which feels just as foreign away from uniforms and the ship, Jim should pad it together with Leonard and slowly wean McCoy out of usage. "You going to eat that?"

Leonard just continues to stare at the plate like it will grow legs and run away if he blinks.

Jim chews on his lip. His stomach is turning and his blood is thrumming under his skin so bad his hands might start shaking. "Tappa I, McCoy," barks Jim as sternly as any Admiral set to dress him down. He's practiced the words, repeating them endlessly in the mirror; this is the first time they've come out convincingly though.

Leonard instantly straightens, glancing briefly at Jim in disbelief before rapidly fumbling cereal pieces into his mouth. More end up stuck to his left hand and on the floor, then actually make it into his mouth but he's eating- on his own.

Jim feels empty, like the simple command for Leonard to eat, hollowed him out, leaving a shell to watch the results. He provoked the desired effect but the words and tone to do it make him feel dirty. He gently pushes the glass of water closer to Leonard. "You should drink."

Leonard releases his current fist full of cereal, letting it fall to the table and reaches for the glass.

Jim's quick to grab Leonard's hand, gently but firm enough to pin it to the table. "With your right hand," he suggests, nodding towards the hand Leonard is keeping tucked under the table. "That one," he reinforces, pointing to clarify his direction.

Leonard frowns, like it's Jim that's being exceptionally difficult through all of this. Slowly he raises his right hand above the table. It shakes even more than his left hand does. He makes it about an inch away from the cup before letting his hand fall onto the table. With a gurgling grunt, he rips his left hand free of Jim's grip and makes a grab for the cup.

Leonard's fingers don't spread wide enough to capture the cup properly, colliding with the side and sending it wobbling along the bottom edge until it tips over spreading its contents across the table. The water drenches his sleeve and worse, spreads out across the table until it runs over the edge and into Jim's lap.

The reaction is instantaneous.

"Shit," says Jim as a cupful of cold water splashes into his lap, pushing his chair away from the table to try and escape the bulk of it.

Leonard seizes the opportunity to yank his left hand back with a guttural yelp. The motion knocks the plate to the floor- yet another mistake. With Jim momentarily distracted wiping at the water soaking his pants, Leonard dives under the table out of the line of fire hugging his knees to his chest to make the smallest target possible.

Jim huffs in frustration, frantically wiping at the water before it has a chance to soak into the material. When he looks up there's a Jackson Pollock of wet cereal spread across the table and no Leonard. He can hear Leonard's shaky breaths come from under the table. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. Shit indeed.

"Len- McCoy," pleads Jim, "can you come out?" He squats down near the table but not so close as to make Leonard feel cornered.

It takes a moment for Leonard to remember himself. He's displeased one of these masters. All he can do is hope they're benevolent enough to forgive his trespass by offering himself up. In an action that's as familiar as breathing he rolls onto his knees, leaning over until his forehead rests on the ground. He raises his arms, bending at the elbow to form a perfect triangle around his head, index fingers forming the point. His thumbs extend out meeting to form a smaller triangle just like his original master who was so gracious enough to teach him. Leonard was a poor student then but through dedication and unrelenting instruction he was made into the perfect servant. Hopefully he can regain that status here- if they would just tell him what they want.

"No we're not doing that," sighs Jim as he watches Leonard fold into the expected bowing position. This isn't an Orion slave compound and Jim isn't a task master. He needs Leonard to understand that most of all- this isn't that hell hole and Leonard will never be there again.

A high pitched whine answers Jim but Leonard doesn't move. "Okay," says Jim, more to himself than Leonard. He sits down cross-legged, clenching his teeth as his wet pants pull and rub tightly against his skin.

Leonard lifts his head slightly, just enough to steal a weary peek out from under his shaggy limp bangs but not so much as to break form.

"You're not in trouble," starts Jim. "That was completely my fault. Joanna just raised an interesting point and I wanted to see if …" Jim's voice falters as he realizes Leonard's raised his head slightly at the mention of Joanna. Eyes glued on Leonard to gage his reaction, Jim continues, hoping it's not a fluke. "Joanna stayed with me this weekend. Four whole days and she didn't get sick once. You'd be proud."

Leonard doesn't display anymore of a reaction but he watches Jim a bit more intently as he talks about Joanna.

"Jo's doing good I think. Grown about a foot in the last year. She misses you though. I'd like to bring her by once we find some place to get you more permanently settled." Silence is the only response but Jim's grown accustomed to it. It's another dagger in the heart. Just when he needs Leonard's council the most, it's been stolen from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you. No one here is. And I promise I won't let anyone harm you again," whispers Jim, because it needs to be said, even if Leonard can't understand. He extends his hand out toward Leonard. "What do you say we get you cleaned up?"

Punishment is usually swift and quick. Waiting usually means that whatever is coming is going to be far worse than anything issued before. Leonard tries to follow the rules but the familiar ones don't seem to apply to these people and they aren't good at conveying what they do expect but when they do, it conflicts with what his first master taught him. This new master seems content to wait but that could just given him time to think of something worse to teach Leonard what is expected here.

Waiting's never been helpful, so Leonard crawls out from under the table. Maybe someone will finally make it clear what they want from him. Then he'll know what to do again to keep everyone happy.

Jim takes Leonard by the elbow to help him to his feet without banging is head on the table, but lets go as Leonard flinches violently, pulling his arms and head in tight against his chest. Leonard stays still, extremities pulled in close like a dying spider with the soft yet ragged breaths that send sharp icicles plunging through Jim's heart. Jim's had people envy him, pity him, loath him, use him, been leery of him, lust after him and maybe even actually love him but no one's ever been genuinely afraid of him before. Jim tries to imagine what it's like to never feel safe, even at home with the friends he surrounds himself with and comes up woefully short of understanding.

Painfully slow seems to be the only setting that works with Leonard, so Jim waits. It gives Jim an excruciating amount of time to think and get lost in his own condemnation over the last year but it's not about him. Eventually Leonard loosens, until his arms are resting at his side as he steals brief glances at Jim from under the rough edge of his bangs. Cautiously, he starts to move forward on his knees.

Careful to keep his hands safely away, Jim directs Leonard to sit on the chair. There's bits of cereal and wet patches all over Leonard's shirt. "I'm just going to…" says Jim as he slowly begins picking off clumps and setting them in a pile on the table.

Leonard holds his breath every time Jim makes contact with his shirt only letting it out when Jim's hand is safely over the table. He's used to pain, pain is the ultimate sign that a master values their slave; that they're willing to coach their slave through their trespasses to be the best servant one can be. This master makes no moves to inflict pain. If anything his touch is exquisitely gentle almost loving without having been earned. Leonard doesn't know what he's done that's made him unworthy to these people that they think he can't be of value anymore.

Jim holds his breath too, just waiting for the next panicked reaction from Leonard. His fingers almost tremble in anticipation of it as he picks off all the crumbs. There isn't really anything to try and soak up the water but if his pants are any indication, being in wet clothes isn't exactly comfortable. Jim starts to roll up Leonard's right sleeve to try and wring out some of the water to help it dry faster. His hands still as his brain tries to make sense of what he's seeing.

As he peels back the wet fabric patches of skin give off an iridescent glow. "What the hell?" says Jim, rolling Leonard's sleeve up faster. The patches appear to form an intricate pattern of lines and shapes extending from Leonard's wrist all the way up his arm. The glow fades mere seconds after the skin is freed from the fabric returning to its normal flesh tone but now that Jim knows where to look he can see the subtle difference between the marked and unmarked skin. The marked skin seems lighter, like a vein of pale blue pearl running underneath the flesh. The design runs under Leonard's shirt disappearing far past his shoulder.

Jim checks Leonard's other arm but can't seem to find any sign of the same subtle marks, glowing or otherwise. "What the hell did they do to you?" Jim breathes.

"The doctor's say it's some kind of ink from a fish or something. I pulled the scans and whatever it is covers his entire right arm, down his shoulder and across his back. I mean why? For what?" demands Jim as he paces back and forth in front of the view screen in his office. Thai just yawns, looking somewhere between awake and half asleep. In all fairness it is two in the morning so Thai's lack of enthusiasm could almost be justified except this concerns Leonard. Jim needs all hands on deck. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Thai sighs around a yawn, "glowing body art that can't possibly wait until morning."

Jim throws his hands in the air. "What if it's doing something to him? What if it's hurting him?" he sputters because everyone seems to be taking this in stride while Jim's having a mild panic attack. He's not crazy; Leonard's skin was pristine before he was taken and now it's a road map to the cosmos.

Thai rolls his eyes before looking around for something off screen. Jim stops his pacing and watches as Thai rolls up his sleeve before making a show of pouring a cup full of water down his arm. Jim watches as the green skin lights up with the same bluish iridescent glow under the rivets of water that he'd seen on Leonard. The pattern isn't exactly like Leonard's but it's made up of the same shapes and flourishes. It stands out sharper against green flesh than on Leonard, even the illumination seems brighter.

"It's not doing anything to him and it doesn't hurt." Jim opens his mouth to protest but Thai waves him away. "They're ceremonial tattoos done with the ink from the Pla'tarian fish which uses the ink to illuminate the water so it can hunt at great depth. It will glow in contact with water. Leonard's fine," assures Thai.

"But," starts Jim.

"The who and whys will take too long to explain and I have a shuttle to catch in four hours. When I get back in eighteen days, I'll answer all of your questions ad nauseam. In the mean time, if you can send me the images of the tattoo I can have even more complete answers for you."

"You're leaving?" asks Jim feeling a little lost. Thai's the greatest instruction manual at his disposal and he's not done studying it yet. What if something else new and weird happens?

"You're not the center of my universe, Jim. I've been asked to speak at a recovery seminar for other people impacted by the Orion slave ring. You might think of going next year."

Jim can't imagine Leonard would be anywhere close to being ready to be anywhere like that within a year, if ever, or what he could possibly get out of it. "I don't think Leonard's ready for that," he says finally taking a seat on the edge of his desk.

Thai shakes his head slightly. "I'm not talking about going for Leonard's benefit, I'm talking about going for yours. They have a lot of support groups and workshops for family members."

Jim frowns. Everyone's so concerned for him lately, but he's not the one that went through that hell. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," says Thai with a snort. "Fine people wake other people up in the middle of the night all the time."

"I'll wait to hear from you when you get back," says Jim in a clip tone, ending the transmission. He knows the tell tale signs of a lecture from a mile away and he's not in the mood tonight. Besides, Jim can do his own research; Thai isn't the only Orion he knows.

Gaila's no more enlightened on the subject than Jim is, beyond, yes some Orions use the ink for iridescent tattoos but unlike humans that use body art as a form of expression, Orions reserve it for tribalistic and religious purposes. Most of those practices have been so pushed out of the general population, examples can only be found in the remote tribes of Orion colonies. Jim wonders how in this day and age a whole race manages to keep such profound secrets, yet the Orion slave practices seem to be shrouded in mysticism even from their own people.

Joanna's a little more helpful. Jim has a list of five more medical facilities she sent him. Only two are actually what Leonard needs but it's surprisingly thorough research for an eight year old with a limited grasp of the situation. He makes arrangements to visit the facilities later in the week.

Jocelyn is less helpful. Even her messages manage to reflect her cold tone as she lists the details of her next departure and arrival for business and how Jim will be tending to Joanna for yet another weekend.

After a brief chat with his lawyer, they come to the conclusion that Jocelyn is just giving Jim enough rope to hang himself with, which Jim just might do. There are far too many balls in the air for him to keep up and give each the attention they deserve. Something's going to crash and Jim can't let that happen. There just aren't enough hours in the day.

There aren't enough hours at night either. Even in his own bed, sleep remains elusive. The night drags on except when Jim does manage to grab a hold of sleep; the sun quick to rise and end his brief two hour love affair with rest.

He knows Leonard would have some sort of lecture at the ready; something about the importance of a good night sleep and the proper way to go about getting it. Normally Jim would be able to hear Leonard's voice in his head, like an angel on his shoulder but lately that voice is getting harder to make out. It's still there, but Jim's lost the ability to hear the words. He's forgetting the sound and tone of Leonard's voice.

So Jim resorts to his tried and true cure for lack of sleep- he drinks. He drinks until all common sense is gone and getting into a fight with random bar patrons seems like a good idea. Jim doesn't even really fight back. If his opponent doesn't have a fighting chancing it ruins the game. Jim's in it for the pain more than the win. Every punch brings delicious retribution that Leonard, even Joanna are failing to visit upon Jim. If they can't punish him for what he's done, someone should. Jim takes every hit in stride, asking for more until blessed unconsciousness is bestowed upon him.

True to his word, Pike has been staying out of Jim's late night recreational activities. That hasn't stopped Pike from sending Spock or Scotty out in his stead. The pesky Vulcan has on three occasions, stopped Jim from getting what he deserves by blocking the first punch thrown. Spock even blesses Jim with a Pike level lecture about illogical human reactions and behaviour unbecoming an officer. Scotty is a little more sympathetic. His meddling usually consists of fighting back to back with Jim and then dragging Jim's ass home to bed.

Jim tours one of the rehab faculties Joanna found with her on her next visit. It's probably not the kind of bonding activity Leonard ever had in mind when pictured Jim looking after his daughter but Jim never pictured doing this either. It seems like a nice enough place. The staff is friendly and welcoming and the other patients appear to be content and well cared for. It's an hour out of San Francisco by shuttle, so the location is convenient to allow Joanna access. It checks all the boxes Jim put on his list and yet he doesn't want to say yes.

Saying yes seems so final, so accepting. Sending Leonard here means he isn't going to be walking out of medical and returning home, bitching about the dangers of space but still showing up at Jim's right shoulder as the Enterprise heads out on its next mission. Saying yes means this is the course of life from here on out and Jim can no longer desperately cling to denial. Because he is. Everything keeps piling up around him proving that the Leonard he knew is gone forever but there are moments, just before Jim falls asleep, as his eyes start to drift close and the sheets are cold and soft that he can hear Leonard laugh, or catch a glimpse of Leonard's 'what the hell Jim?' frown in the reflection of the window.

Saying yes is the first step to moving on. Except Jim liked where he was- Captain of the Enterprise with Spock on one side and Leonard on the other.

"What do you think?" asks Joanna from the swing in the garden.

Jim thinks the universe is unfair and greedy. But as care facilities go, it seems like one Leonard would have approved of. Of course, Leonard's only concern would be access to Joanna; Jim aims to be a little more discerning. Like he should have been when sending an away team to offer aid to a ship they knew nothing about. "It's a nice place, Jo."

"Do you think Daddy would like it?"

The swing comes back and Jim gives it a gentle push forward. "I think if you like it, he'd like it."

Joanna presses her lips together as she mulls over the idea. "Well, it does have a nice garden and a duck pond. The people were all friendly and the cafeteria did have peach cobbler on the menu. I know I checked while you were talking with the nurse."

If only life's decision could be based on whether peach cobbler was an option. "Well that settles it then."

"I mean it if you're sure he can't live with you," adds Joanna in that wistful hope laden tone.

Jim sighs. He'd love nothing more than to have Leonard living in quarters on the Enterprise. As for his apartment, there isn't enough room for him and Joanna which has prompted a home hunt for Jim as well. Especially since Jocelyn seems to be taking to dropping Joanna off frequently and at random intervals in a bid to make Jim refuse and use that refusal against him at their next hearing. "We've talked about this."

Joanna does same one shoulder shrug Leonard does when he's willing to drop a matter for the moment but is far from burying it.

"Come on," says Jim, grabbing the ropes of the swing to bring it to a gentle stop. "Let's go see if they have some paper work for us to fill out."

Of all the things Jim thought he'd be doing today, meeting Thai at Starfleet operations on the moon wasn't on his radar. Transporting only takes a few minutes so it's not like he's that far away if he has to get home right away but it still feels weird to not even be on the same planet as Joanna when she's in his custody. Not that he doesn't think Sulu can handle babysitting for the day. Joanna will probably have more fun playing games with Demora and her fathers than anything Jim could dream up but it doesn't loosen the ball of dread turning in Jim's gut. Is this what Leonard felt everyday of his life since she was born?

"What are we doing here?" asks Jim as he meets Thai outside operations.

"You wanted to know about the tattoos, so I figured I'd introduce you to someone a bit more knowledgeable."

"How can someone be more knowledgeable than you if you also have them?"

"It's complicated," replies Thai as they walk through the streets. It's always crowded; the main shuttle port as well as the hub for public transit are down the block from operations and the street is a straight shot to the arts and entertainment district full of street vendors and galactically diverse cafes and food stands. It's the perfect place for a day out if that's what they were looking for. Thai continues to lead Jim through the crowds with a much more important purpose. "How's everything else going with Leonard?"

It seems like a rather personal conversation to be having out amongst random people going about their happy lives but Jim has to be home before the end of the night and he has three weeks of Thai's absence to make up for. "Found a rehab center for him but it will take a month or so to get him transferred. Also looking for a new apartment and trying to catch up on all the reports I've been falling behind in." Jim doesn't mention bars or the fights. One of the perks of being the beneficiary of Leonard's belonging on behalf of Joanna is Leonard's personal medical supplies are in his possession. Jim made use of the dermal regenerator to hide his collection of bruises.

"Ah, a change in location," say Thai, side stepping a group of shoppers gathered around one of the street venders. Prepare for a back slide in progress for a little bit."

"Back slide? We haven't made any progress for there to be a back slide from," protests Jim.

"You've probably made more progress than you realize. Which will become very apparent when you back slide."

Jim doubts it but he's long come to terms with the fact that he might be too close to this to be objective. Spock would probably cite the incident with the Orion prisoner as all the proof Jim should need. "Then how do I avoid that?"

"You can't. This is a long journey of two steps forward and one step back. All you can do is try to not take two steps back. I suggest being around every possible moment to make the transition smoother."

Jim weighs everything on his plate. So much is getting ignored and even with all the extra attention some things are getting, it still isn't enough. He has a job. He has Joanna probably more than Leonard ever did from Jocelyn trying to drown him in responsibility. He has a life that he has every intention of getting back to and yet he can't abandon Leonard. He wouldn't even have that life if it wasn't for the doctor. But it's not like Leonard seems overly attached to Jim's presence. Leonard treats everyone with the same weary hesitance and indifference. "I don't think Leonard's really going to care about a personnel change."

"When I was rescued, it didn't feel like I was being rescued or being given freedom. It felt like I was being snatched from everything and everyone I knew. I was born into it, I exist because of it. I had a mother and a brother to tell me strange tales of what life was like without a master and still when it happened to me it was so incredibly foreign and weird. I still think you humans are weird, but back then, nothing about your lives and interactions made sense. There are slaves that are six generations in; that life is all they've ever known and you're not giving them freedom, you're giving them confusion and loss of identity and place."

"Leonard had a life, an identity and a family before this."

"No. Everything he knows, his whole life starts after they performed that lobotomy. You didn't give him anything when you rescued him, you took everything. He'll do better if you meet him half way. An half way is making sure someone he knows is in charge is around all the time."

"And that someone is me," mutters Jim with all the self crimination he can muster. He's not looking to be in that kind of control of Leonard. More importantly, he doesn't want Leonard to look at him like that; he wants Leonard to look at him like a friend, like he used to.

"Has to be somebody. Better it's someone that cares about him. We're here," says Thai stopping in front of one of doors in the entertainment district.

Jim glances up at the sign. "I've been to an Orion bar before," he says with irritation. He's been to many; watched the girls dance, had a few drinks and the food usually pretty good too. There are few well established colonies that don't have an Orion bar somewhere; ever popular spots for shore leave.

"We're not here for the entertainment value," says Thai with an eye roll as he walks in. "I'm sure you've seen commercialized Orion performances but only about ten percent are the actual authentic performances."

Jim follows still feeling like this trip is a waste of time. The place is dark with strategic lightening to both highlight the stage and create an atmosphere of mystery around the dancer. They grab a table near the back, but since it's a rather intimate setting, they're still rather close to the stage.

The next Orion woman takes the stage and Jim's jaw practically hits the table. "Is that Gaila?" he sputters, in shock.

Thai snorts. "Look closer."

Jim does. He's intimately familiar with Gaila's body and now that he's really looking, the face is similar but the body is wrong. More specifically, Gaila never had any of the iridescent tattoos that are on full display down the dancer's legs and arms, catching and reflecting the light. They're beautiful and elegant, elongating the stretch and flex of her limbs as she moves and contorts them to the music in the familiar but always intriguing dance.

"That's Adreana. She's Gaila's older sister," says Thai as he leans closer to be heard above the music.

There's most definitely a family resemblance there. Jim thinks he remembers the mention of a sister in passing but certainly nothing about her being a slave girl dancer or perhaps even a former slave. Shame burns deep in his gut. Knowing everything he's gone through since Leonard was taken, he silently prays Gaila wasn't going through any of it in secret while they were tangled in her bed sheet together.

Adreana finishes her dance, taking a bow before stepping off stage. Thai's quick to wave her over and after a moment of intense flirting and fake laughing with another patron, she joins them at their table. She's quick to run her hand down Thai's arm with a bright smile and a warm greeting like they've known each other for ages.

"Adreana, this is Jim Kirk," starts Thai.

"The infamous Jim that Gaila talks about," she says with a coy smile and seductive wink.

Jim's seen that look before- exploited it many times. "Gaila's …" begins Jim, extending his hand, in an attempt to offer some platitude that will ring extremely false since clearly Jim doesn't know anything about Gaila.

"Never mentioned me," finishes Adreana, taking Jim's hand and giving it a gentle shake as she rubs her thumb across his knuckles. Her smile never falters despite touching on a deep hidden vein of family drama that Jim can relate to. "We don't exactly see eye to eye on things so she's not going to advertise me to anyone. It's fine."

Jim thinks of all the times he's had opportunity to mention Sam and didn't. Unintentional secrets have piled up around him like everyone else. Does Jim actually know any of the people he calls friends? Do they even know him? And if Gaila, who he thought he knew pretty well, hasn't mentioned any of this, even after Leonard, what kind of secret pain was Leonard hiding from Jim?

"Your life?" asks Jim, slightly confused. It can't be the dancing. Gaila's a very sexual person a little seductive dancing shouldn't embrace her. Orion dancers don't even fall into the exotic dancing category since they're always clothed, even if the clothes can be extremely risqué.

"Adreana is a disciple of Sandrit. She's a slave girl by choice because her religion demands it," clarifies Thai as Adreana has one of the servers bring over a bottle of the local ale.

Jim's face must do something stupid because Adreana laughs like Jim's too slow to arrive at the punch line on time. "You've made a religion around the trafficking of human lives and slavery?"

"I assure you, the religion came first." Adreana fills their glasses with a cloudy pink liquid that flickers with specks of silver in the low lighting. Her movements are methodical and precise. Each tip of the bottle allows the light to reflect and highlight a different portion of her intricate tattoos. "Slavery is incredibly lucrative for those running the rings which is pretty much the driving force behind it now but once upon a time it was shrouded in tradition, values and beauty."

Jim's face scrunches in confusion. "How can treating people like that, taking them from their lives- hurting them, how can that be beautiful?" Tears threaten to fall, pricking at the corners of eyes as he thinks about the joy and justification they had in breaking his best friend.

Adreana looks a little sad as she says, "The Orion slave rings that you know are a far cry from our religious practices. Wealth and opportunity warped something beautiful into torture, rape, violence and death. The people that took your friend, aren't us. We don't practice it that way. They used an honourable system to justify their corrupt needs. We want them gone as much as you."

"We're not here to debate theology with you. We're here to speak to Stelara," says Thai, staring Andrean straight in the eye, not looking away even as her smile falters slightly.

The joy and flirtation drains from Adreana's voice as she asks, "What makes you think the La'te would be here?"

Jim doesn't know what's going on but he can sense the temperature change in the conversation, the cautious walls forming around Adreana and the determination growing in Thai to not be dissuaded by them.

"Because she likes to make sure her girls are safe. And there's no better time than to check up on the disciples of Sandrit than during Hol de Han. Here you are so…" explains Thai.

"She won't see you." She turns to look at Jim. "She definitely won't see him."

Thai pulls out a PADD. Jim gets a quick look as it slides across the table. It's one of the pictures he sent Thai of Leonard's tattoos. The rest are probably on there too because Adreana spends a couple minutes looking at them. She begins to slide the PADD back across the table but stops as Thai pulls a rope necklace from around his neck and slides it towards her. Adreana grabs it too quickly for Jim to see the charm hanging from it.

"She'll see me," insists Thai.

"Wait here," instructs Adreana, grabbing both the PADD and the necklace as she leaves the table heading towards the back of the theatre.

"What's a La'Te," asks Jim watching her go.

"It's a high priestess. The high priestess. How much do you know about our religion?" asks Thai.

Jim knows next to nothing. His cultural studies game is on point for a captain but that's mostly a list of cultural taboos and expectations to avoid incidents and maintain relations of Federation societies then actual in depth knowledge. He certainly doesn't have a wealth of religious knowledge for the Orions since they're not classified as a theocracy. Orions only had one religion throughout their history and by all accounts is pretty much dead. So dead in fact, that the Federation has next to no texts about it other than they believed in five gods most of which had female representation. "No more than the next the person. What does a high priestess have to do with the tattoos?" asks Jim.

"They're blessings from the gods," answers a woman with a dark haunting voice. She's draped in a long blue velvet cloak that covers everything from the neck down and long black hair that cascades past her shoulders to the middle of her back. Jim can see the odd bright silver loop and swirl peaking out below her rounded jaw that stands out exquisitely against her green skin. "And not spoken about in such public forums," she chastises, turning and walking away from the table.

Thai slides out of their booth, grabbing Jim by the arm to make sure he follows as he trails behind the mysterious woman. They go behind the stage and down a winding staircase that takes them two floors underground to the door of a private holo suite.

"No communication or recording devices of any kind will pass by these doors and into our sacred temple," warns the priestess.

"It's a computer simulation of your temple," corrects Thai. "Hardly sacred ground."

"If we cannot be in temple on this sacred day then a replica will act as such a holy place. A favoured son should be relieved to have any visage of their gods on this day."

"They're not my gods nor his," counters Thai, tipping his head towards Jim. "We've just come to get the translation of the words before you."

"Not your gods yet they put their sacred prayers upon your flesh and bless your soul with their divine spirit."

"The gods didn't put them there," counters Thai.

They step into the temple which is dark, lit only with candle light and an open flame in the center of an altar. Jim feels like he's violating something sacred but the gist he's getting is this sacredness violate his friend first.

"First we pray," commands the priestess.

Thai crosses his arms. "I'm not much for prayer. And who's he going to pray to?" asks Thai looking at Jim.

Jim certainly doesn't have an answer for that. He's not much for prayer or for religion in general. He's certainly not here to jump through hoops.

The Priestess whacks Thai upside the head with a slap that echoes slightly. "We pray," she emphasises.

Thai rolls his eyes and lets out a long sigh before getting down on his knees. "I guess we pray," he grumbles leaning forward until his head is touching the ground. He raises his arms out and up to form a triangle and then extends his thumbs and index fingers to make a smaller triangle.

Jim's seen Leonard do it often and it makes his stomach turn.

"You pray like a peasant," comments the Priestess as she removes her cloak and moves before the altar and assumes the same position. Her tight form fitting bodysuit reveals tattoos that shine bright silver and cover every inch of visible skin not on her face. They're elegant making her look like a living work of art.

"Imagine that," scoffs Thai without lifting his head.

She looks over her shoulder and glares at Jim until he gets down on his knees. "What's the difference?" he whispers to Thai. It looks like he and the Priestess are doing the same thing.

Thai whispers back, "She's flat against the ground."

Jim looks ahead to see that instead of having her knees tucked underneath her, her stomach is flat against the ground with her knees folded on either side of her torso. Jim's pretty sure he's nowhere near flexible enough for that. Just holding this position for more than five minutes is uncomfortable boarding on painful. He kneels in silence as the Priestess recites a litany of words he doesn't recognize only rising when she does.

When they finally rise, Jim just looks confused. He's not sure exactly what Thai hoped he'd learn here. The Priestess does everything in a language Jim doesn't speak and Jim feels lost. Maybe that's the point. He imagines Leonard felt the same way with captors speaking anything but standard and demanding things of him he wouldn't know. At least Jim doesn't have to worry for his life here.

"It's alright if you don't understand. Most people don't," says the Priestess. "Slave girl is a poor translation of an ancient concept. In our religion I have all the power. A slave girl belongs to her master but she chooses who that master will be. A master treasures his slave girl above all else. She ensures prosperity for the tribe who are honor bound to protect her at all costs. She appeals to the gods to bless her tribe through the ceremonial dances. If she is poorly treated hardships will fall upon the tribe. A master rules the tribe or the house and the slave girl is to serve him but only if he worships her."

Looking at the pictures in great detail she says, "I recognize these prayers. They were bestowed upon the Starfleet doctor."

"You know of Leonard?" asks Jim taken aback.

"Yes. He was brought to Mar'ian to serve the house of Ma'ltic as a G'blade. It was very generous of Ma'ltic," she replies simply.

"You knew he was there as a slave and you didn't report it?" demands Jim, his voice echoing off the walls. Here's someone who's clearly able to come and go and didn't report a federation prisoner. "How can you know where these people are and not say anything?" Jim feels like he's in the middle of enemy territory.

"My job is to ensure the safety of those in our order. If the masters do not trust me then I cannot ensure the safety of our disciples. That is my priority. The taking of slaves against their will is a threat to our order. If they are caught it puts us all in jeopardy," she counters taking very decisive and bold steps to put herself in Jim's personal space.

"Stelara's been known to smuggle out involuntary slaves," cautions Thai. "It keeps the authorities away and protects the order. They don't want forced participation any more than you do."

"We made arrangements for Jin'I to leave. He chose to stay and send the nurse in his place. Whatever happened after is not my doing."

Except Jim kind of feels like it is. "Leonard had a way out?" says Jim in disbelief. He feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Leonard could have made it home. He chose to stay, to leave Jim to pick up the pieces. He chose to give a fellow crewmate freedom. As mad as Jim wants to be at the idea, he can't because Leonard is a hero and Jim is selfish.

"You should take comfort in the fact that he was loved," adds The Priestess.

"Loved? Loved!" Jim tires to make the word feel right in his mouth but what's left of Leonard is not love. "They cut his brain up until there was nothing left but an obedient dog. That's not love."

"Ma'ltic did what he had to do to make Jin'I worthy. If he wasn't loved, he wouldn't bear the highest prayer Sandrit could give."

"His name is Leonard. Leonard McCoy," corrects Jim, his voice breaking. "Quit calling him Jin'I you sadists." Really it's just insult to injury. Jim thought he wanted to know more, he's regretting knowing anything. Worse, the Priestess can stand there and look at Jim like nothing torrid happened.

"I think we're done for today," says Thai, grabbing Jim by the shoulders and pushing him to the side of the room.

It's not until his back is pressed firmly against the wall that Jim realizes his hands have curled into fists. His chest is heaving and all he wants to do is inflict all the turmoil and pain he feels on someone in this room. Thai's right, it's time to leave and go back to the ruins this insane order has left he and Leonard with.

"Thank you for your time Stelara," says Thai as he pushes Jim towards the door.

The Priestess who appears unfazed by everything simple says, "Your father misses you, Capi-ne."

Thai goes a little rigid, stopping in his tracks. "The Morteen are ready for harvest; I'm sure he wishes he still had his best diver. And it's Thai now."

"He loves you and would welcome you back with open arms, Tears'an." She whispers more to Thai far too low for Jim to really hear and not at all in Standard. Thai just shakes and answers in kind before escorting Jim out.

They take the shuttle back to Earth. Thai thinks Jim could use the time to cool off and Jim knows he can't bring this kind of energy home, not to Joanna. They sit mostly in silence, Jim vacillating between being pissed that Leonard's a selfless bastard and proud. Most of the rescued crew claims Leonard is the reason they made it out but the sentiment never truly hit home until now.

"What did she say to you," asks Jim, mildly interested but mostly aiming to make Thai as uncomfortable as he feels about today.

Thai looks pensive for a moment before saying softly, "She said my former Ta'I wants me to come home and take over the house, that it would make my mother proud. I told her he has a real son for that."

Jim thinks back to Thai's revelation that his mother and brother were lost in the very system that did this to Leonard. "She knows where your mother is?"

"I lied to you when I told you I've never seen my mother since she was taken to another property. I found her a couple of years ago at a Temple of Odesain. She's a priestess now. I believe the human expression is she drank the Kool-Aid. She believes and supports every part of that life and loves my father dearly. Nothing would fill her with pride more than if I returned home. I'm allegedly his Morteen, favorite son. I suspect his acknowledged children and wife might disagree. She's not the person she once was nor does she see me for the person I am so it's better to just believe she's gone."

"I'm sorry," says Jim. It feels inadequate. "Is that why you have the tattoos?"

Thai lifts his arm and with a sad smile says, "Gifts from Sayon'ja. She's one of the lesser gods but her blessings are supposed to offer protection. There are five gods. Sandrit is the highest god of all, responsible for creation and life and the point of the triangle. Odesain and Fayat are less powerful but her equals. They're married and essences of light and dark. They're the lower two points of the triangle you make with your fingers. Sayon'ja and Sha'tol'mai are their children and the points of the larger triangle you form with your arms. They blessings and prayers are written in the language of the gods which is long since dead and only translatable by a few, mostly priestesses. If you believe, they're a great honor, if you don't it's a constant reminder that you're owned by someone else."

Jim can imagine Leonard's are more ironic than any kind of actual care for him and definitely a punishment rather than an honor. He can't bring himself to ask if Leonard would have earned them before or after he lost himself. Instead Jim asks, "Hers glow all the time, not just when wet?"

"It takes several times for the ink to really take. It's honestly like being burned alive every time. The priestesses use them as a sign of their devotion, to endure that many rounds. Most master just want to get the point across and refuse to monopolize that much of a slaves time to see them through to that kind of completion. We can see the marks even if they're not wet, they're that burned into your consciousness."

Jim's glad to be back on Earth. He parts ways with Thai and starts home. The lounge across the street is calling to him again. Bar fights just aren't an option with Joanna around. The last thing she needs to see is Jim coming home a bloody mess, so a fifth of bourbon seems a fitting substitute to calm his frayed nerves. Or it would be if that amount of alcohol had any effect on him anymore. A couple glasses will get the job done; Jim's not exactly a lightweight. Chekov picked Joanna up from Sulu's and brought her back the apartment, so it's not like he's leaving Joanna alone.

When he gets home Joanna's long since gone to bed. He sends Chekov home with his thanks and manages to make it to the couch before passes out.

Jim lets out a long breath. He's been questioning the wisdom of this move for awhile. There isn't a scenario he can think of in which it should end badly, but that was with the old Leonard, with Bones. This new Leonard is a wild card in which the values of the old one no longer apply. Jim's been training Leonard for week now and while there should be no surprises, doing it for real seems like asking for trouble.

"It will be okay, Uncle Jim," says Joanna slipping her hand into his.

Jim leans against the back of the turbo lift. He wishes he was that confident, and that naive. "You remember what I told you, right?" He's been practicing at home too. Joanna seems like she understands, but Jim can attest, that what you think you know and are prepared for, doesn't brace you for what you find. Anticipation is going to be working against them today too. The phaser tucked discreetly against his back feels heavy and captious.

Joanna gives an exaggerated nod.

The turbolift comes to a halt, the doors parting on their floor. Jim's finger twitches. He could just tell the computer to take them back to the lobby.

"Come on, Uncle Jim," Joanna huffs, pulling him off the turbo lift. She leads him through the hall, using Nurse Chapel as her guiding star. Christine is waiting at the end of the hall talking quietly with two gentlemen Joanna's never seen before. Based on their uniforms, they work at the hospital. She wonders if they worked with her father too.

Christine's smile is bright and huge as sees Jim and Joanna coming down the hall. Jim wishes he could feel that easy about today. Or perhaps just be able to fake it as well as Christine.

"Joanna! It's so nice to see you," greets Christine bending over to scoop the young girl up in a giant hug. "Captain."

"Good morning Nurse Chapel," replies Joanna.

"How's he doing today?" asks Jim, side eyeing the pair of orderlies with Christine, silently asking the question he never wants Joanna to hear.

Christine gives a small tip of her head. She's worked with both orderlies before and trusts them to be discrete for Joanna's sake but effective for Jim and Leonard's. "He was a little cranky last night but seems to be alright this morning. We have him set up in one of the visiting rooms coloring."

"Daddy's coloring?" ask Joanna, looking at both Jim and Christine curiously.

"Yeah," replies Christine. "He's really fond of the color blue."

Joanna lights up, eyes going huge in excitement. "That's my favourite color." She takes Christine's hand turning to stare at Jim when he doesn't immediately follow. "Are you coming, Uncle Jim?" she asks impatiently.

Jim glances down the hall towards the turbo lift. It's not too late. He can still scoop Joanna up and avoid the whole potential messy disaster. She'd probably hate him, but better him than Leonard.

Jim ignores the trepidation blooming in his gut. He smiles softly and says, "Right behind you."

True to Christine's word, Leonard is ferociously attacking coloring PADDs. Christine heads up to the observation window on the next floor leaving the two orderlies to unobtrusively sit and pretend to read on the chairs in the corners of the room. Leonard looks up briefly as Jim and Joanna enter but is quick to go back to his work.

Joanna hesitates at the door. Jim has been telling her for weeks what to expect, that her father is a different person now, but watching him sit at the center table intently looking at PADD, he looks the same. A little shaggier maybe, but just how she remembers him. Except, her father would have seen her by now, ran over and picked her up in the biggest hug possible with a smile that chases all the monsters away. He would have swung her around until she almost bursts from giggling then sit her down on his knee and ask his humming bird how her day was. He does none of those things.

"Daddy?" she asks in a small fragile voice that cracks like glass with each syllable.

Leonard doesn't look up or stop what he's doing and Jim can see Joanna's excitement for today start to evaporate. Selfishly, he'd hoped Joanna would be the key, the thing that broke through all the damage and brought Leonard back like a lighthouse leading a ship safely through rocky waters. Jim places a warm, steady, reassuring hand on her back. "We don't have to stay," he whispers when she doesn't cross the threshold. "We can come back another time."

Joanna licks her lips. Determination takes over and slowly she takes her first step forward. The sound of the stylus as it slides across frantically across the PADD is almost as loud as her heart or her shaky breaths as she steps closer. The chair grating against the floor as she pulls it out from the table seems disproportionately loud in the lonely room. "That's a pretty picture, Leonard," Joanna says sitting down across the table from him. The name feels large and cumbersome in her mouth like it doesn't fit. "Do you mind if I draw too?"

Slowly she reaches for the nearest stylus in the center of the table; a pretty shade of pink. Her finger barely brushes it and Leonard freezes mid stroke.

The room collectively holds its breath.

Leonard doesn't move but even with his head angled towards the PADD in front of him, he watches wearily as the small hand stretches across the table, tiny fingers wrapping around the stylus and slowly pulling it across the table. He blinks, turning his focus back to the PADD in front of him and the task of spreading blue across it.

Jim rubs his hand over his face, anything to keep anyone that might look in his general direction from noticing they're shaking. The tangle of unease and apprehension in his stomach doesn't disappear but loosens slightly. Jim sits at the next table, close enough to intervene but not hovering.

Neither Joanna or Leonard say anything to one another, Leonard still doesn't speak anyways, until Joanna finishes her first picture. She holds it up for Leonard to see, explaining how it's the peach trees in her grandparents' orchard and how she got to see them recently. Joanna does an excellent job of filling the silence with simple tales of what she's learning in school and places she's gone on the weekends she spends with Jim.

Leonard doesn't show any acknowledgment of the conversation, just continues on drawing, occasionally switching out colors. Every once in awhile, Jim catches him stealing a glance at Joanna's pictures.

They both reach for a sea foam green stylus at the same time. Their fingers collide, causing Joanna to flinch her hand away as her head snaps up. Leonard jerks back like he's been burned pulling his left hand back and under the table. They both stare at each other.

Jim sits up straighter in his chair, his hand flirting with the hem of the back of his shirt and the command to kneel dancing on the tip of his tongue.

"I'm sorry did you want the green one?" asks Joanna, picking up the stylus in question and holding it out for Leonard to take.

Leonard looks at her for awhile. It's the same look he gives Jim when he does something that doesn't follow the normal pattern of behaviour he's come to expect.

Joanna's hand shakes from side to side beckoning him to take it. "Here you go."

Leonard raises his hand briefly before letting it fall to the table, clearly pondering what the correct course of action is in this situation. Slowly he reaches out, palm up until Joanna drops the tool in his hand. Leonard closes his fingers tightly, pulling his hand back to this chest with its treasure protectively.

"Are those birds in the sky or fish in the sea?" asks Joanna, stretching her neck out to get a better view of Leonard's PADD. The pink and orange smudges against the blue background aren't well defined but clearly something. "I think the green will look nice on them," she adds when no answer is forthcoming.

Slowly Leonard goes back to coloring but he keeps a pretty steady eye on Joanna.

It's Christine that breaks up the party. "It's time for Leonard's physical therapy session," she says as she enters.

"Okay, Joanna, time for us to go then," says Jim getting to his feet.

Joanna purses her lips together, a slight frown forming. "Alright." She slides one of her PADDs over towards Leonard. "Here you go. Maybe you can put it up in your room or something? Something to remind you of home."

Jim's not certain but it looks like a picture of Leonard and Joanna standing in front of an old farm house with peach trees growing around it.

Leonard actually looks at the picture and slides the PADD closer to himself. He doesn't look like the shapes mean anything to him or that he understands the importance of the drawing. Jim just hopes they get out the door before he decides to draw over it or worse throw it across the room.

Joanna gets up, walking over to take Jim's hand. Leonard watches her leave the table, then stares at Jim who usually offers some interaction with him but this time stayed out of the way. "I'll be back later," promises Jim.

They're almost at the door when Joanna pulls away, running back to the table. Before Jim can stop her, she has her arms around Leonard in a tight hug.

Leonard just sits there; his arms hanging useless at his side. There's fear and panic in his eyes as this small person fits perfectly against him, her head tucked under the crook of his neck.

It lasts for a few seconds but as far as Jim's concerned and eternity passes. As quickly as Joanna embraces Leonard, the hug is over and she's back at Jim's side. Jim's heart starts beating again.

"Bye, Leonard," Joanna sings as she waves to him. "I'll see you next time."

Jim starts breathing again once they've left the hospital.

It takes all of three seconds for Leonard to remember what kind of black hole he's been sucked into and that's probably the most disappointing thing of all. It's not a bad dream. In fact, things seem to get worse every time he regains consciousness.

"Dr. McCoy, are you alright?" asks a familiar voice.

Leonard's head lulls painfully to the side. Whatever he's propped up against so he's not flat on the ground is not picnic either. He cracks open one eye, the other is less quick to respond and less inclined to capitulate to the simple request. It's a little fuzzy, but he can make out that it's Lieutenant Bradford looking at him concerned through two sets of metal bars because of course they would end up in actual cages at some point.

"Just peachy," he grumbles, tentatively probing at his swollen eye. The metal manacles jingle and clang as he raises his hands. No matter how he shifts, the metal bars of the cruelly small cage dig into his back making it impossible to find a comfortable position. It's barely big enough to sit up in and a few inches short of Leonard being able to actually stretch his legs out. They're not alone either, the cargo hold is filled with occupied cages, stacked four high. "Is everyone else alright?"

"O'Malley's in the cage below you, Xanders is two cages to my left and Ainsley and Chen are around here somewhere." Bradford cranes his neck to gaze down the rows of cages. "I think they're three rows over to the right. Haven't seen Brite since processing. Last time I saw Clark was when we were captured."

"Clark's dead," says Leonard bitterly.

"What are they going to do with us?" asks Xanders.

"They're going to sell us to god knows who and for god knows what," says O'Malley.

Xanders chokes back a sob.

"Enough. The Captain is going to find us. We just have to hang on until then," says Leonard. Moral inspiring speeches aren't his forte but he is familiar with promoting hope.

O'Malley asks, "How do you know? We've been gone for days. We're light years away. They'll never find us."

Lieutenant Jensen Bradford looks desperately at Leonard, like Leonard imagines the rest of the team would if they could see him from their positions.

"I know, because Jim Kirk's stupid enough to not believe in no win scenarios," says Leonard with a pained smile. "He won't ever give up. So you all need to do whatever you have to do to survive. You better be alive when the Captain finds you or I'm going to put a serious reprimand in your file for disobeying my direct order. We will get through this." He knows the odds and if it was anyone other than Jim looking for them, he might believe all hope is lost.

O'Malley isn't wrong. The cargo ship delivers its haul planet side at a warehouse facility. Everyone sits helpless in their cages as machines come and remove them from the hold, travel down a maze of corridors to a large cold open room. Each cage is placed in a blue square painted on the ground which spaces out the single stacked cages about twenty feet apart on all sides. There has to be a hundred cages scattered throughout; one hundred lonely souls pulled away from everything and everyone they know.

Then come the crowds. They make their way through the gauntlet of cages examining each occupant, chatting in a rhythmic litany of gibberish that holds no meaning without a translator yet is almost certainly discussing Leonard's fate. It's mostly Orions touring the facility, some species the Federation has yet to have any dealings with and a few Leonard can't believe would engage in the slave trade.

After an hour of being treated like a zoo animal the crowds disperse allowing haunting silence to descend upon the room. It should feel reassuring in a situation like this to be left alone, out of reach of anyone that might want to do harm when their pray is so unable to fight, but it just feel ominous. It crackles in the air screeching like a banshee leaving no solace or rest for the downtrodden.

The motorized clunk of a hover transport breaks through the oppressive silence and anticipation as two guards walk it in and load the first cage on it. The prisoner protests and begs; the harsh tone of the unknown language making it hard to determine which with human ears. They disappear behind the huge silver automated door and the room plunges back into its silent purgatory.

One by one the cages are pulled, never to return. As the hours drag on, their numbers dwindle. One of the reasons Leonard chose medicine was so he can do something when tragedy strikes. Instead of being completely helpless in people's darkest moments, he's spent a life time training to be able to execute a solution, to snatch people back from the edge of oblivion. There's nothing he can do here, except watch, watch as one by one the medical team he put together, the crew he serves with a taken away. Leonard's never done helplessness well and it's going down like an atomic bomb now.

A weird sense of relief washes over Leonard, bubbling up as a half chuckle half sob as finally, finally, his turn comes. The only thing worse than be taken is having to watch the others go into the unknown before him. Now it's his turn to travel down the same dimly lit path.

The room he's transported to is dark. It somehow makes the creak of the cage door opening seem louder. Rough hands reach in and grab him, none too gently, by the legs, yanking him out. Once free, the same hands drag him to his feet then grab him under the arms lifting him from the ground and carry him forward. Leonard's set down on his feet and he can feel someone playing around with the chains binding his hands. The distinctive click of a lock snapping into place sounds and the hands leave him standing alone in the darkness. He gives the chains an experimental pull. They're still firmly in place binding his hands together but know they're locked to the floor with just enough slack to let Leonard stand there.

The light comes on, shining on Leonard with the intensity of the sun. The spotlight illuminates him and nothing else, leaving darkness beyond its ring. Leonard squints, trying and failing to raise his hands high enough to shade his eyes. There's indistinctive murmurs ahead of him and he can just make out the faint outline of what looks like people ahead of him.

A loud voice sounds over a speaker system, cycling through several languages until it finally finds one that's familiar to Leonard's ears. "Our next item on the block is number nine-four-three. Healthy human male, with a potential medical background. The bidding will start at five hundred thousand credits."

A bell sounds and the room erupts in conversation. Leonard only half listens catching bits and pieces as the computerized voice relays information through eight different languages. These people are fighting to control his life and there isn't anything he can do about it. The casualness at which these people seem content to bid is alarming. So much for the universe being a far more civilized and advanced place.

"You're all vultures," barks Leonard, because the point has to be made. Part of Leonard hopes he costs a lot, just to be a financial inconvenience if he can be nothing else.

"The bidding on item nine-four-three is complete," reports the computer. "The item can be picked up in shipping."

Leonard would object to being referred to as an item but doubt's there's a human resources department available.

The spotlight shuts off and Leonard has to blink a few times to get the bright spots dancing in his eyes to fade away and adjust to the darkness again. He's spared from the cage this time; the guards unshackling him from the thick metal ring in the center of the stage and dragging him off like a dog on a leash. The pull jerks Leonard forward giving him no choice but to walk with the guards.

The thought to protest crosses his mind, to dig his heels in and make them work for every inch. If there's one thing he excels at it's being stubborn. His own words come back to haunt him. Do whatever you have to do to survive. He chokes down all the anger, hate and fear that's building up. It tastes sour and poisonous but he has to give Jim every chance.

They get to a small room and very quickly Leonard rethinks his decision to comply. A spark of alarm runs a long his spine locking his feet in place. Fear runs its long boney fingers up his back caressing his jaw before plunging into his heart. Besides the armed escort and the waiting lab technician the only thing in the room is practically a coffin.

"In," orders one of the guards pointing to the stasis pod.

Leonard shakes his head minutely, pulling his arms tight to his body to try and avoid the guard's grasp.

"In," repeats the guard, the hard line of his eyes conveying his irritation. He drives the point home further using his weapon to point at Leonard and then the box. The second guard raises his fist.

"Fine," blurts Leonard, his brain complying before he can convince his body to follow. He can't win a fist fight with his hands chained.

One of the guards shoves him forward while the tech looks board with the whole thing. He checks over his PADD before letting out a put-upon sigh.

It's hard to climb inside the stasis pod both due to Leonard's limited mobility and because his body is wracked with tiny tremors. Leonard's not claustrophobic but he does have a fear of being buried alive thanks to a late night horror vid his mother warned him not to watch. He didn't heed that warning then so his imagination has some pretty good ideas about how this ends. He's a prisoner in an illegal slave ring that's smuggling its prisoners. There's a lot of room for error in this operation and that stasis pod doesn't exactly look well cared for nor top of the line. It would just be his luck to suffocate to death in shipping.

Leonard gets in and lies down and the tech closes the lid without remorse. It clicks shut as the lock is engaged a soft blue light coming from the bottom underneath Leonard signalling the tech has activated the start sequence. He lets out a shaky breath. All those times he fretted and worried about Jim alone getting into danger, he'd initially been glad Jim hadn't accompanied the away team. Now here alone on the edge of the universe unable to defend himself, Leonard secretly wishes he was back to back with Jim to face it all.

"Leonard's always happier on days you stop by," comments one of the nurses as Jim walks by the floor's reception station.

"It's the baked goods," replies Jim, holding up the white box in his hand. Jim's been taking baked treats with him. It's emotional manipulation at its best but with the upcoming transfer Jim wants to keep Leonard as calm as possible. It's not completely self serving. Leonard manages finger foods better; utensils still proving to be an insurmountable enemy. He's also more willing to eat if it's something Jim gives him.

"Hey Leonard," he greets entering Leonard's room.

Leonard looks up briefly before going back to his frantic coloring. It's more scribbles with crayon programmed styluses but Joanna's put a few of them up around the apartment with cleaver titles. They're mostly blue backgrounds with color splotches speckled though out then any real defined forms. Joanna's designated it Leonard's blue period.

"Are you hungry?" he asks opening up the strudel box.

Leonard hums, dropping his stylus and scrambling to kneel at Jim's side, his head resting against Jim's thigh.

It makes Jim cringe but he's learning to pick his battles. If Leonard's more comfortable being fed this way, Jim's not going to fight him on it. Not right now anyways. It will be the first battle once the move is over. He runs his fingers through Leonard's shaggy hair as he hands down the pastry.

Leonard looks at it like a gift from god, holding it gently in his hand as he waits for Jim's permission. When he gets it, he takes an experimental bite. He goes for a second bite and a third finishing it off in five large bites.

Jim's found Leonard likes pastries with fruits in them best. Except lime. Leonard may have choked down that key lime tart because Jim gave it to him, but the look on his face was pure agony. Jim can't remember if Leonard had an aversion to limes before but he's made a mental note about it now. Just like he's made a mental note that Thai and Gaila and most Orions he's seen lately are left handed, like Leonard insists on being now.

Leonard sits leaning against Jim until he's finished eating then goes back to his latest masterpiece. He'll do that until one of the nurses comes in and directs him to the next activity designed to develop motor, cognitive or verbal skills. Jim wonders if he actually enjoys any of these activities or just does them because he's been told.

"I'm going to bring Joanna by in a couple of days," says Jim. So far Leonard's tolerated her presence as long as she keeps her distance. On the rare occasions Joanna does cross the imaginary boarders of Leonard's personal space he freezes up, going completely still and holding his breath but takes no action against her. As long as she stays on her side of the table doing the same activity as Leonard they get along. It's the best outcome Jim could hope for.

Leonard slides the PADD across the table towards Jim. "Hmmmm Rrrrrrd," he moans. He stares at Jim expectantly for a moment, then moves on to his next drawing.

Jim wishes he knew what Leonard was trying to say. As it stands, moaned sounds are a large step from Leonard's pervious silence. He sent Thai a transmission of the sounds desperately hoping they were alien words of some kind. He even asked Uhura to take a listen to see if it was something she could place. It wasn't anything Thai recognized, but he offered to ask around his net work of survivors and case workers in case someone could place it. Jim's not getting his hopes up on that one.

He wonders if Leonard even understands anything they say to him anymore. The medical team says scans show that there's enough damage that it could go either way. Jim spends his lunch hour in a park near headquarters with his translator off just to see what it's like to hear conversations all around him without understanding. It's a loneliness that Jim can't explain, surrounded by people but an island unto himself.

If the drawing have clues in them, Jim's not smart enough to pick them up. The only connection he can make is the blue matches Starfleet uniforms. But the wisps of colors, usually pinks and teals don't add up. Sulu had said they might be people one day when he dropped Joanna off from a trip to the aquarium with Demora. Demora's early works often depicted splotches of yellow for Sulu and whatever color shirt Ben was wearing the day of the drawing. Starfleet doesn't have pink and green uniforms leaving the only option there being a self portrait of Leonard with an Orion. "Hmmm Rrrrd, indeed."

Jim's not sure why Uhura asked him to lunch but he could use the break from packing so he took her up on the offer. With Joanna coming over more and more, he decided to pack up some things and put them in storage to make more room for her until Jim can settle on a new place that actually has two bedrooms. They make small talk that feels a little too forced and avoid the meaningful questions. During a quiet moment Jim looks at his hand where he managed to cut it open on a piece of glass from a photo frame he was packing away. It was a picture of him and Leonard of all things. "I cut my hand today while moving some stuff into storage," he confesses.

"Is it okay?" she asks reflexively. If it was anything serious Jim wouldn't be at lunch with her.

"Yeah. It was nothing; not very deep at all. A couple seconds with the dermal regenerator after it stopped bleeding and it was good as new." He rubs his thumb across the palm of his hand. The skin is perfect, all traces of his clumsiness removed.

"A lesson to be more careful."

"Yeah," agrees Jim softly, still looking at his hand. "The thing is, I had to fix it myself." He frowns as he finds nothing but smooth flesh, pristine and clean. If only all life's problems could so easily be wiped away.

Uhura's brow knits slightly in confusion. A small cut Jim could heal on his own hardly seems worth mentioning at all, yet he seems rather troubled by the situation, sparing it more thought than most of his command decisions of late.

"It's not that I can't do it for myself or haven't in the past," he clarifies. He's hid the scares of his fair share of wild nights. "This is just the first time I realized that Bones isn't going to be the one to fix it every again. It's something so simple and pointless but knowing that I was going to have to be the one to do it from now on and not him, hurt far worse than the cut ever could." Jim sniffles slightly, clearing his throat and trying to force his unshed tears back where they belong. Getting all sappy at lunch with Uhura was not the plan.

Uhura places her warm steady hand over top of his; an anchor in a tumultuous sea. "The big things are obvious, things you can prepare for and expect to hurt or leave you feeling empty and alone. It's the little things that catch you off guard and take you by surprise; things you never thought about and took for granted." She felt the same way when she realized why game night hadn't been happening anymore.

Jim and Spock had a routine of playing chess. On those nights she would gather with Scotty, Sulu, Chekov and Leonard to play cards and the occasional board game. It was obvious when they forwent their ritual after Leonard went missing. There was no mystery as to why they stopped while they were still looking for Leonard. It wasn't until recently, when what will be their new routine had settled in and each one in passing has mentioned how they miss getting together, that Uhura realized it was Leonard that made sure they got together. Leonard organized game night; Leonard kept them turning up even when life got busy. Now without that thread, they're all adrift.

"It's stupid," mutters Jim finally leaving the palm of his hand alone. There are real problems in the universe and he's moping over a few drops of blood. Except nobody has ever managed to be as gentle and caring while shouting about your clumsiness as Leonard. He just had a way for making you feel like it would all be okay. Jim misses believing it will all be alright.

Jim feels like he's being called into the principal's office as he reports to Pike's office. Hell, the man even has that disapproving glare as he pretends to finish some work in an effort to make Jim squirm as he waits and stews. "You wanted to see me, Sir?" He can only imagine what Pike's going to berate him for today. In fairness, Jim does give the man a lot to work with.

"Yes," says Pike, folding his hands under his chin. "The Illation delegate needs transportation to the Rimadi home world to finalize their agreement. Basically they just need to sign some papers and peace will be achieved."

"Good for them," says Jim absently with a shrug. Honestly, he'd rather stare at the walls in his office then discuss diplomatic matters he had no involvement with and probably never will.

"It's a milk run," continues Pike.

"Babysitting jobs usually are," agrees Jim. This must be some new form of his unending punishment.

"And it's all yours."

Suddenly diplomacy is a little more interesting. Except Jim must have heard wrong, because he remembers the looks on those admiral's faces when he barely escaped with his career and rank, but not his ship. It's not unlike the look Pike has on his face now.

Pike was the only one that believed Jim's desk position was temporary. And he was right, because he's handing Jim the keys to the car again. "Sir?" Jim's been waiting for this, itching to get back a sense of normalcy back into a life that's been completely upended. Jim knows what to do on a Starship; it's been a long time since he felt in control of anything.

"I don't think you're ready but the brass does. So you leave Tuesday. It's four days, there and home. The delegate will do all the work. You just have to get them there. Your crew is ready to go." Pike has his reservations. Mostly because Jim refuses to admit he crossed a line, meaning he's likely to do it again, and because unlike everyone else, he's bothered to look in on Jim and can't ignore his budding relationship with alcohol and denial. At least real alcohol is harder to find on a Starship.

"Thank you," says Jim dumbfounded. It's been forever since anyone offered good news.

"Try not to scratch the paint," cautions Pike.

Jim leaves quickly before Pike revokes his status. He's been itching to get back out there; being grounded doesn't suit him. He feels like he can breathe again.

Jim's practically giddy as he takes his spot on the bridge. The command chair is like an old friend. His troubles feel like they're light years away as the crew performs their familiar dance at their stations. It's exciting and familiar and as they leave the solar system, Jim finally feels like he's home.

He spends the second half of his first shift trying to ignore the feeling that he left the stove on. He'll deny he looks over his shoulder constantly for a CMO who never appears and he tactfully ignores Spock's raised eyebrow and Uhura's sad smile when he uses the wrong name when asking sickbay for a status report. He's back on his ship, the pieces will fall back in place. They have to.

Day two on mission starts with a comm. call from one of Leonard's doctors describing the latest meltdown and can Jim come down because lately Jim presence seems to calm Leonard. And just like that Jim feels like he's caught in a gravity well. Everything has been about Leonard for almost two years; first the all consuming search, then finding him and now rehabilitation. Jim's own private life is all about Leonard too; research with Thai, taking care of Joanna. When does Jim get to breath? To go back to the life he worked so hard for?

Jim drowns his guilt for such thoughts in his morning coffee. Leonard's not doing this to Jim, it's happening to Leonard. For the first time Jim wonders about his career. At first it was a non issue because powers above him were holding it over his head and Leonard required his complete attention. He always thought he'd be back out in the black someday. Jim can't even do a milk run without feeling guilty that Leonard is struggling; how's he supposed to resume command if this is the state Leonard will remain in.

Jim tells himself there will be bad days, he just has to give it time. Tomorrow will be another day and things will settle back at home.

Day three… brings trouble.

Day seven sees the Enterprise returning home to find Pike waiting at the airlock. "What happened to your face?" he asks as Jim steps off the ship.

Jim made a point to skip medical after the ambassador punched him in the face. It's not that Jim doesn't have faith in M'Benga's skills, it just feels sacrilegious to step into sickbay without Leonard on board. It's impressively bruised and swollen but the bleeding stopped and his nose isn't broken. "It's apparently a great offence to not live up to your word. Even if you are failing to return the delegate on time because the Amari sent a warship to disrupt the treaty," he replies sullenly.

Pike looks like he's mulling it over as he falls into step with Jim who's refused to stop. "You completed a successful mission. Congratulations Captain."

The words feel hollow and Jim doesn't feel like celebrating. He was providing a glorified taxi service and somehow he let that get out of hand. The track record of his last couple of missions is rather dismal. The home front didn't fare any better. Jim has several messages from medical with grimmer reports each time.

"Admiral Carson would like to speak to you about your future," says Pike, struggling to keep up with Jim's quick determined pace.

"I have to go see Leonard," says Jim curtly. He doesn't have time to get side tracked. He doesn't even notice when Pike stops walking. Jim can only put out one fire at a time and this one has been raging for days.

"He's been like this for days," says Christine, voice tight to hide the concern. "They tried a couple different techniques the first few days that calmed him a little but he never really settled. They had to resort to sedation which just led to a struggle with the orderlies. Dr Ranstone thought maybe letting him scream it out might be worth a shot."

Jim can see it's not. Leonard's worked himself right into a fit. He's grunting and moaning all sorts of unintelligible sounds while frantically pacing the room banging against the walls. It's like watching a caged tiger.

"Do you know what set him off the first day?" asks Jim.

Christine shakes her head. "He was fine in the morning but as the day wore one he started spiralling. At lunch he was just uncooperative but by the time evening came he was more like this." She seems sad, like this is somehow her failure to keep Leonard afloat with Jim out in the field. "I even tried bringing in that peach fudge he used to special order from that confectionary shop in Atlanta before missions. If anything that seemed to make him angrier."

If Leonard doesn't calm they both know the next step is heavy sedation and possibly restraints to not only protect Leonard from himself but the nursing staff as well. "I'll see if can get him settled."

"I think he missed you," says Christine as Jim keys open the door.

If only that were the case. The sentiment is a knife wound to the gut. Jim wants nothing more than to have a Leonard that recognizes him looking back, to know there's still some piece of the man he used to know, to know Leonard remembers something. He hasn't seen any evidence to support that idea. Jim's pretty sure he's as interchangeable as the furniture in that room except for the fact that he's become well versed in every distasteful command beaten into Leonard.

Leonard's trying to get enough leverage to pry a control panel open with his finger tips when Jim walks in. He's practically shaking with frustration and anger, engaging in some guttural animalistic grunts.

"McCoy, enough," snaps Jim. "Shut-tu."

Leonard goes ramrod straight, snapping his head around at the unexpected and sneaky intruder. Immediately he drops to his knees, bowing his head to the floor while making a mewling sound in the back of his throat.

Jim walks softly towards the bed and sits on the edge. Leonard crawls over and bows at Jim's feet, hands desperately clinging to Jim's ankles. His shoulders heave as he's racked with sobs.

Jim's hands fall to Leonard's head, gently carding his fingers through Leonard's hair. "Shhhh," he soothes, "no one's mad. You're safe here." They sit like that until Leonard's cries himself out. "I'm right here." Maybe Leonard has become attached because with that he seems to settle a little more. Jim feels a whole new level of shitty at the thought that maybe Leonard felt abandoned this week. Jim never abandoned Leonard, not then and not now.

Jim gently lifts Leonard's chin until they their eyes meet. He needs to know Leonard understands when Jim tells him Leonard will never be alone here; his whole Starfleet family his nearby and ready to help in any way possible.

The second Leonard lays eyes on Jim, really looks at him since he walked in, a high pitched whine escapes his lips. Slowly he raises a hand softly running fingers up and down Jim's jaw. Cautiously he traces the outer edge of Jim's impressive black eye before daring to move onto the black and purple flech probing the damage.

Jim sits there, eyes closed. If he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend he's on a biobed on the Enterprise enduring a medical exam by an over protective CMO. He can practically hear Leonard telling him to get better at ducking or quit sticking his nose in danger. "Bones?" he says, the word fragile on his lips like a desperate prayer.

Leonard rips his hands away violently leaving Jim cold and shaken in their absence. He opens his eyes to a room he's growing to hate and Leonard's voice fading back into a distant whisper. His lips burn with disgrace for only a treacherous heart would whisper the name of a saint into the darkness. Bones is dead, and Jim's never been any good at summoning ghosts. He tried for years with his father and failed at every attempt.

Leonard stands up, growling angrily as he storms over to the table. The plastic building blocks don't stand a chance as he slams his fists down. One by one he bats them off the table, sending them flying into the wall. They ping against it, ricocheting across the room in various directions like darts.

Jim sits there, afraid to move for fear of losing that comforting feeling of Leonard's hands on him. He can't find his voice as the orderlies enter, using careful force to subdue Leonard enough for Christine to deliver the sedative.

Leonard goes down struggling all the way. It's not a violent resistance more flailing arms and feet that happen to connect and make submission more difficult. Leonard's violence is never pointed, directed or malicious in execution. He moans angrily when his limbs become too heavy to fight against the people holding him, until his eyes eventually droop closed.

"Are you alright, Captain?" asks Christine as she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah," he croaks, finding some semblance of his voice. He doesn't move as the orderlies scoop Leonard up and take to an observation room to sleep it off.

Jim decides he's going to sleep it off too. If he doesn't the memory of Leonard's hands on his face is going to haunt him. He has a history of wanting things he can't have. He would do anything to go back to that breakfast before the away mission or any moment before that really and just live in that moment. Jim's willing to sit there and listen to every lecture Leonard can conjure, or endure an eternity of unending physicals and he won't even complain. Not even a little.

Jim hits the liquor cabinet, glass in hand before he realizes that leaving on his last mission meant he didn't restock. He stares at the pitiful dredges at the bottom of his collection of bottles. Collectively it isn't enough to do anything for him and he can't bring himself to go out and buy more. Replicated stuff just doesn't have the same punch.

He chews on his lip as he eyes the bathroom door. There's one quick sure fire way to bring today to a swift end. M'Benga prescribed sleeping medication when Jim was barely getting four hours a night, pulling double shifts on the bridge trying to find his away team. He's found a better substitute for sleeping meds since he landed himself behind a desk, but he kept the prescription stocked. He needs to be together tomorrow so he opts to take it, sauntering into the bathroom and dragging Leonard's medical bag out from under the counter.

He fishes out the hypo, grabbing his prescription from the cabinet, and loads a double dose. One will just help him stay asleep, but he has to get to sleep first. Two will send him off to oblivion, burying today in the past with all the other painful things Jim longs to forget. It bites into his neck with a sharp hiss and he saunters back to the couch leaving the hypo on the sink counter.

Because Jim has to forget. Bones is gone and wanting something out of someone who's incapable of bringing him back is cruel.

Jim throws the last holo vid frame in his box. Captain of the Enterprise for two years, stuck at Starfleet Headquarters for another year and his possessions all fit in one box with room to spare. He never had plans to stay behind a desk so why bother filling an office with personal effects? That's what he tells himself anyways when it only takes twenty minutes to close all his reports and pack his crap.

"Any chance I can get you to reconsider?" asks Pike as he looms in the doorway.

"No," replies Jim, getting up from his desk for the last time. He tucks his box under his arm and heads for the door. He wants to be back out there but three missions in and three melt downs later, the correlation is hard to ignore. At first Jim thought it was coincidence. The second time he chocked it up to going from medical to the new rehab facility, but the next incidence proved the only change in Leonard's routine that seemed to effect him was the absence of his master. Jim's not hopeful enough to assume it's him personally that Leonard misses, just the steady authoritative hand at the end of the leash. It seems selfish to put Leonard through it all just so Jim can go play captain for a few days at a time.

The crew deserves better too. The Enterprise hasn't taken a real assignment in months because her captain can't commit to leaving for weeks at a time. Spock's been doing all the heavy lifting anyways. Jim's well aware he's dumped most of the captain's duties in his first officer's lap, even when he is present on the bridge. And he knows Spock omitted Jim's hesitancy to make decisions when their last mission hit a rough snag on his mission report. Jim lost his backbone when it came to sending Scotty, a trained and highly skilled engineer into the fray. Instead Jim went and had Scotty talk him through the disarmament of the torpedo over the comm.

Pike didn't think Jim would, but he still has to ask. "I'll keep the chair warm for you," he insists because despite Jim's leave only being for three months, he has a bad feeling about where Jim might find himself at the end of those three months.

"She's all yours," says Jim with an overly cheery smile and firm clap on the shoulder as he walks out. He's walking out on everything that he thought mattered to him but Starfleet hasn't brought him any joy in awhile. He's responsible for Leonard; the least he can do is be reasonably sure Leonard's going to be in a good place. He can't do that and be out there amongst the stars.

"Punishing yourself for what happened isn't going to bring him back, Jim," calls Pike, as he watches Jim walk down the hall towards the turbolift.

"That's not what I'm doing," insists Jim. He's actually seeing things through for the first time in his life. If that means his happiness is secondary for awhile then so be it. His mother once told him a fish and a bird can fall in love but where will they live? He never got that until now when his home among the stars is no longer suitable for Leonard. Of course, just because he understands it, doesn't mean giving up on his dream hurts any less.

"Giving up your life doesn't change anything." Pike's seen this before and he's afraid Jim won't come back; he'll just hide behind one more month, until he wakes up and finds all those months have equated an entire life of avoiding getting back in that chair and making the hard decisions. Jim's good for Starfleet, in the same way Starfleet is good for Jim.

"Just three months remember," counters Jim, with a coldness he's been unleashing on the universe for weeks now, as the turbolift doors close.

Jim's a bottle and a half in to mourning the loss of his ship when there's a knock at his door. He may be choosing to take the break but it's a forced choice brought on by the sick irony of the universe and fate's vindictive cruel streak. He got the party started pretty early so it's not like this unexpected guest is intruding at an obscene hour. Knowing his luck it's probably Scotty or Uhura with some moral boosting speech. Or Spock with some pearl of wisdom explaining how the hard decision is the right one. Or worse, it's Pike. It's probably Pike because Jim can't handle whatever angle he's going to come from right now.

"What?" he snaps as he opens the door. Any tirade he was about to go on dies in his throat as Joanna stares back at him with those big innocent eyes. Jim kind of wants to crawl into that bottle he started and die.

"Hi Uncle Jim," she say bobbing on her toes. It makes her sneakers light up and her bright pink backpack jingle with its contents.

"Hi?" he says confused as she ducks under the arm he's braced against the door frame and walks into the apartment. Jim's head follows her, trying to decide is he's hallucinating or not. His head snaps back to the door.

"Clay's trip was moved up and we have to leave first thing in the morning," says Jocelyn handing Jim another one of Joanna's bags.

"You said Saturday, Jocelyn. It's only Thursday," protests Jim. He's not opposed to having the kid around, but now is not a good time. "I can't…" Jim doesn't even know how to finish that excuse in a way that won't put another bullet in her gun. "Whatever," he sighs, "you're still picking her up on Tuesday?"

"Yes, keep up that level of excitement around my daughter," she says sardonically.

Jim grabs the bag from Jocelyn. "Goodnight, Jocelyn," he says, punching the button to close the door rather dramatically. He does not have the blood alcohol level to handle this tonight. Jim claps his hands together. "Early bedtime tonight," he announces.

Joanna looks at him sceptically. "It's only seven o'clock."

"You'll be well rested in the morning then," counters Jim. He took a whole year worth of diplomacy and negotiation courses at the academy, he has actual firsthand experience negotiating treaties during first contacts, but for the life of him he can't come up with a more compelling lie to convince an eight year old to go to bed.

Joanna hits him with that one eye glare Leonard used to use when he was waiting for Jim to trip over his own lies during medical assessments. "I'll read in my room for awhile," she says.

"Yes. Do that," agrees Jim a little over enthusiastically. He is not in the space to handle this right now. His shoulder slump as he tries to come up with a plan of action. First he has to get through tonight and be ready for tomorrow.

He hits the bathroom and digs out another vial of his prescription. A good night sleep will fix the first problem. He can't babysit with a killer hang over or still drunk. The rest he can sort out in the light of day. He injects the dose, barely making it to the couch before it takes effect, amped up by the boost of alcohol in his system.

Jim's crawling the walls by lunch time. He dropped Joanna off at the library for tutoring and online classes. He'd looked into actual schools but was recommended to the library study programs since Joanna spends most of her time at home in Atlanta. He visits with Leonard most of the afternoon and is home in time to play domestic, responsible, adult by dinner.

He just can't do it though. His heads been spinning all day replaying every decision and every possible path the future can take. He needs to escape for a bit. The wound of losing the life he thought he was destined for is still too fresh and raw to ignore.

He comms Chekov to come over and babysit for the evening, promising to be home in a couple hours to put Joanna to bed. He just needs some fresh air and a moment to himself where no one expects anything from him.

Jim spends the first hour of his walk looking out at the ocean. He reminds himself he's taking this break to help Leonard, Leonard who always had Jim's back even when Leonard's own career could be on the line. But what if Jim isn't what Leonard needs? What if he's messing that up and worse, what if he screws things up with Joanna? Jim's only been good at the one thing and still has moments when he's screwed up his command.

The lounge across the street from his place calls to him. One drink to settle his nerves can't cause any harm. The blond that lives three floors down and often shares a turbo lift with him in the morning orders him a couple of shots. It'd be rude to refuse. A couple shots turns into ten o'clock and a sloppy walk home to an all too detailed brief of the evening's events that could have been summarized with 'she's in bed now.'

Jim bids Chekov goodnight and settles himself on the couch. It's too early to try and force himself to go to bed and the usual voices that haunt the silence, now have new friends to play with.

Jim drums his fingers on the coffee table. He's too wired to sleep and too drunk to stay up. Morning brings responsibilities he has to be ready for. Letting out a long breath Jim heads to the bathroom and grabs the hypo. He settles on the couch as he administers a double dose. It doesn't hit him as fast as last time, leaving Jim waiting for it to take effect.

There's a bottle of Sorian brandy sitting on the cabinet all seductive with its curvy bottle and come hither gleam as the light bouncing off the crystal decanter to fall on it. Leonard gave him that four centuries old crystal set as a graduation/keeping us alive on our first mission present. They'd shared a celebratory drink with that set.

Really, what could one more drink hurt as he waits for the meds to kick in? Joanna's asleep after all.

Maybe two.

It'd be a shame for the bottle to go to waste.

Leonard doesn't know when he stopped looking at the door. It's a windowless concrete box of a room so there isn't a lot to look at to start with. He supposes he'd have to have some concept of time or the stardate to even begin to answer that question. Has it been weeks? Months? Years? Has he been gone so long that everyone he knows has moved on with their lives, filing away his memory as a footnote while Starfleet ticks a little box besides the status MIA? Has Jim forgotten about him?

He started staring at the door to pass the time between beatings and quality time with his two guards and their steel tipped boots. Leonard was so convinced that any moment now Jim would burst through with that cocky grin and troubled blue eyes and tell Leonard that he 'can't leave him alone for a minute' like it's Leonard that needs the constant babysitter. He idly wonders who's filled that position now. Spock has always been that cautionary voice before the crime, Leonard the reprimand after the fact. Is Spock capable of handling both positions?

Leonard's ashamed he's stopped waiting for Jim to save him. He's replaced hope with a handful of alien words for things like kneel, and permission to drink the water put before him. Jim never gives up but all this time in a small, dark and cramped room has broken Leonard down. Holding out for a hero has just lead to more pain.

The guards are skillful in their craft if not a little taciturn. It wouldn't matter if they were talkative, they don't speak Standard; they use fists and what can only be described as a cattle prod to translate their demands. There are moments, when Leonard's lying on the hard floor, every inch of his body aching or bleeding or both, that he wonders what it would take to push the guards far enough to lose their careful control. It's not that he wants to die, he just can't imagine spending the rest of his life in this kind of pain and loneliness. They never take the bait; always stopping just short of wounds that require medical intervention.

The only other person Leonard's seen since waking up in his private hell besides the guards he's labelled Cain and Able is their boss: a lavishly dressed Orion with jeweled rings sparkling on everyone of his stubby fingers. The first day Leonard was here, he was forced to kneel as the man in charge walked circles around him with a sickening smile on his face that left Leonard's spin tingling. "You may call me Ta-I Hadeem."

Hadeen had lovingly cupped Leonard's face in his hands in some twisted parody of tender caring before whispering in his ear, "I like my things to remain pretty. Hopefully you are a quick study." It's probably some special torture technique that those are the last words Leonard heard in his own language.

It turns out he's not a quick study.

Hadeem graces Leonard with his presence once in a while, offering nothing more than a quick inspection that Leonard fails to meet, before leaving Leonard to his goon's tender mercies.

Leonard wonders how long it takes before one can translate words in their head without thought and what that means for his soul that he can do it more and more. He comes up with a mantra to whisper to himself when Cain and Abel are done for the day; just to remember who he was supposed to be. "Leonard McCoy, doctor. Father of Joanna, my little humming bird, who's waiting for me on Earth. CMO of the starship Enterprise captained by Jim Kirk."

"Mmmmm," hums Jim as the outside light crawls in through the window, skulking across the couch to chase away the darkness that was embracing him. He really has to get serious about finding a bigger place so he can have his bed back.

"Morning," comes a flat voice that's far too deep and masculine to belong to anyone that should be in the apartment.

Jim's eyes snap open; his senses going to red alert. "Fuck!" he shouts, practically falling off the couch as the blurry form watching him from its perch on the coffee table twists and molds into Pike. Jim's getting really tired of waking up this way.

"That's a bad word," says Pike in that tone that speaks of tight restraint against unleashing hell against a deserving victim and a morbid sense of humour.

Jim rubs his face as he pulls himself back onto the couch. His head is pounding and everything aches. He certainly doesn't need whatever this is right now.

"How the hell did you get in here?" demands Jim because he knows he didn't give Pike access.

Pike pointedly ignores the question. "Meds and alcohol," he says, twirling the hypo between his fingers. "There's a winning combination. I thought I made it clear, I wasn't picking you off the bar room floor anymore?"

No wonder Jim's mouth tastes like he licked a bunch of rusted tools. "This isn't a bar, it's my home and no one fucking asked you to in the first place," snarls Jim. He doesn't need a damn hero. Pike looks like insubordination charges aren't out of the question, though Jim doesn't know how Pike would make them stick, but he still tacks on a severely bitter, "Sir."

"You didn't, but a young girl did. Imagine my surprise at getting the call late this morning from a concerned eight year old. Apparently her father has my contact information saved under 'Jim emergency' in his comm. Somehow, McCoy's still looking out for you."

Jim's stomach drops. "Joanna! Is she alright?" he stammers, eyes darting around the apartment landing on the closed bedroom door. The one thing left he can't fuck up and here he is dropping the ball in spectacular fashion. If anything has happened to her because of him… Jim will never forgive himself.

"An extremely helpful Ensign took her to the park since she finished all her homework this morning. The eight year old is more disciplined than you," says Pike with a tight smile.

"She called you?" asks Jim, rubbing his aching head, his relief at her safety short lived against the pain he's inflicted upon himself. Last night is kind of a blur but pieces are coming together and he doesn't like the picture. Jim's done a lot of stupid things in his time but his one virtue has always been he takes the brunt of things not others. Today it seems he let his problems fall on Joanna.

"She was worried. Someone had to make her breakfast. And lunch," Pike points out.

God Jim really fucked up. "Lunch? What time is it?"

"It's almost five. Maybe next time skip the drugs and alcohol and go straight for the comma," snarls Pike. "When you try and destroy your life, you really go all out kid."

"I'm not trying to destroy my life." Though the evidence to the contrary is certainly mounting.

"Then what is it?" demands Pike.

"I drink to forget," snaps Jim. "To forget all the things Leonard can't remember. Isn't that ironic? I want him to remember something, anything so bad, but I'm the only one that does and the weight of holding all those memories is too much. And the ones I want to keep are slipping away and that space is being taken up by all the things they did to him." Jim points to the bedroom door that thankfully isn't hiding Joanna right now. "She's going to ask me about her father, today, tomorrow, ten years from now, it's going to happen. What am I going to tell her? What his laugh was like? I've forgotten…" Jim chokes on a sob. This isn't what's supposed to happen. Jim takes the risks so others don't have to, Jim with nothing to lose takes the brunt of the universe because his friends, Leonard, has everything to lose. "I don't deserve to be the one that gets to hold onto all the good ones anyways."

Pike pulls Jim into a hug, Jim's shoulders bumping against his chin as the young man's chest convulses with sobs. He whispers the familiar words, "You start by telling her that her father was a hero that gave up everything to save lives. And then you tell her she has the same inquisitive stare."

"We are back," announces Chekov as he and Joanna enter the apartment.

Joanna dances in behind him adorned in a colourful paper head dress, face paint and a balloon animal bopping behind her. "You're awake, Uncle Jim," she says cheerfully, plopping down next to him on the couch. She tenderly pats his leg as she snuggles in next to him.

Jim gives her a pained smile, pushing his plate of untouched pancakes away from the edge of the coffee table so they aren't accidently knocked over. He wants to apologise, to beg her forgiveness but his list of trespasses has grown so large he doesn't know where to begin.

"You two look like you had fun," says Pike trying to hid his smirk as he gets a good look at Chekov. The navigator blushes fiercely, wiping at his cheek to try and remove some of the bright pink unicorn painted there as Pike works at flipping more pancakes on the stove.

"Yes," agrees Chekov.

"Breakfast for dinner?" interrupts Joanna poking at the stack of fluffy cakes on Jim's plate. She frowns, screwing up her nose as if all the adults in the room have lost their minds.

"I won't tell if you don't," says Pike, flipping some on to a plate for her. "These ones have chocolate chips in them," he adds with a wink.

Joanna takes the plate with a big smile as she gets off the couch to climb onto one of the barstools to eat her dinner at the kitchen counter.

"Care to join us Ensign?" Pike asks.

"Regrettably no," apologises Chekov. "There is a lecture at the academy by one of the leading mathematicians in transwarp theory I was going to attend."

Pike rolls his eyes. "Sounds riveting."

Jim clears his throat. "Thank you for taking Joanna out, Chekov." His voice is still rough and raw leaving him feeling rather exposed. "Enjoy your night."

Pike stays, doing the dishes and tidying up the place until Joanna's ready for bed. He only leaves when Jim promises he won't self medicate anymore. It doesn't hurt that Pike takes all the meds and booze bottles with him when he does go.

"I want to apologise for today," says Jim as he tucks Joanna into bed. "That never should have happened and I promise it won't happen again." He's been such a train wreck lately, there can't possibly be any more cars left to derail.

"It's okay, Uncle Jim," she says patting his hand. "You're just sad. Ma says Daddy used to drink when he was sad too. And Daddy was sad a lot," she adds, picking at fuzz ball on the edge of the blanket.

Jim remembers the quiet agony Leonard endured during their first year at the academy, when his divorce was still rather fresh and he hadn't gotten to spend more than ten days with his daughter the whole year. He can only imagine what the actual implosion of his marriage was like. Leonard who fights so completely and passionately on behalf of others would have fought the hardest for a marriage he believed in and a daughter he loved, only to lose his most important battle. "You know he wasn't sad because of you, right?"

Joanna shrugs one shoulder, keeping her head tilted downwards.

"Jo, nothing that happened between your parents had anything to do with you. You were the only thing that ever made your dad happy. In fact he gave me something me something for you." Jim reaches into his night stand and pulls out his PADD. He queues up the appropriate vid and passes it to Joanna. They sit there, curled up together and watch one of the video messages Leonard had recorded for her.

"Good morning."

Leonard blinks a few times, eyes adjusting to honest to god sunlight. His back complains the loudest as he uses his stiff aching muscles to prop himself up on his elbows. The dirt underneath him is dry and warm with painful flecks of straw that dig in and poke uncomfortably. His vision swims, rolling like the ocean, but he can make out the iron bars encircling him. It's not the concrete box he's been in for who knows how long, it's a cage but there's room to actually get up and walk if Leonard was so compelled and what looks like a bucket of water in the corner. They're in some sort of wooden construct that houses several cells. The roof looks solid but the side paneling is worn with rot, leaving spaces between the boards that lets the light through. It's almost like a barn.

"Welcome to Tie-sha-ree. I am Ra'tier."

Leonard glances to his left and the Vulcan sitting cross-legged in some half attempt at meditation beside him. "Are you the concierge? Because I'd like to complain about my accommodations," grumbles Leonard in a low hoarse voice that hasn't been used in ages while making the effort to actually sit up. His tongue aches from the effort to actually speak a full sentence. His complaint is ironic since these are probably the best conditions he's been in since being taking prisoner. Isn't that saying something?

Ra'tier raises an eyebrow in that typical Vulcan fashion.

"Leonard McCoy," adds Leonard, getting on his feet and walking towards the bars. He wraps his hands around the cool metal, glancing around to get a sense of the size of the place and to hopefully catch a glimpse of some familiar faces. "How long have you been here?"

"Twenty years," states Ra'tier.

"Good god man!" sputters Leonard. That's not what he wants to hear. He has no intention of enduing this shit show for decades. He has a life to get back to. "Nobody's come to rescue you? You haven't escaped?"

"Escape is unwise and anyone who knows of my disappearance was captured with me and now currently a prisoner of the same system that holds me. Assuming they are still alive."

"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine," says Leonard. He can't get a good look at who's occupying the other cells. Their occupants are asleep in the back corners covered in ratty blankets. He rips his hands away from the bars, throwing them in the air in a fit of frustration. He's been caught in a rip tide for weeks and he doesn't know if he has the strength to keep trying to tread water. He certainly can't do it for decades.

The bars squeak as he slowly sides to the ground, his shirt hiking up, letting his skin burn against the metal as the friction fights against him. This is a bad dream that won't end, this isn't real life. A manic laugh bubbles out of him. Out of a whole ship of fearless, reckless adventurers, the one who plays it safe has landed in the biggest shit show going.

Ra'tier looks at Leonard curiously. "I do not understand what a human could find humorous about your situation."

Leonard wipes away the tears in his eyes. "No, you wouldn't." He lets his head hang. "You didn't happen to notice anyone else arrive with me?" he asks, hopeful and terrified in equal measure. He doesn't want to endure this alone but if his team can be anywhere better or somewhere they can be rescued, he'd rather they be there then here.

"There were eight other acquisitions brought in two months ago. At least two on them looked human. It is probable but not certain they are who you are inquiring about. The male was taken to the other work shed last month and the female to the master's house the week before that. You are the last to emerge from the instruction barracks."

"Lucky me." Leonard rubs a shaky hand over the itch stubble that's been allowed to grow over the last few weeks. Potentially at least two members his away team are alive and here. It's a glass half full thought but at this point, Leonard will selfishly take any drop of water he can get. "You're standard is remarkably fluent," comments Leonard because it's heavenly to actually understand what someone is saying.

"I speak eight different languages including the ones most commonly spoke here."

"I don't suppose standard is one of the ones spoken around here?"

"Not as a rule." Ra'tier resumes his morning meditation.

It was probably too much to hope for. A rustling sound in the cell next to him pulls Leonard's attention. He glances over. "It's you," he says surprised to recognize the face staring back at him. "Are you alright?"

The timid girl Leonard found on the ship, licks her lips, pulling her knees tight to her chest. She looks like she's as well as one can be around here. Her wrists are bruised but the manacles are gone.

"She does not speak," says Ra'tier.

Leonard sits up straighter, a little more interested. "You know her? She's been here before?" he doesn't know why he feels drawn to her. Perhaps it's how much she reminds him of his own daughter or just the fact that she's someone's little girl caught up in all this horror.

"She lives here. The master often sends her with his guards on trips."

"Do you know her name? I have to be able to call her something." The girl stares wearily back at Leonard. Leonard keeps his distance, assessing what he can visually. All things considered, she looks relatively healthy.

"They call her Akeem. I believe it translates to precious."

It's a disturbing thought Leonard doesn't want to think to hard about. He doesn't get any time anyways as the barn door creaks open and six armed guards enter. One of the guards barks out a harsh guttural word Leonard unfortunately recognizes. The others in barn seem to recognize it too, waking from their slumber and bowing accordingly.

"You are expected to bow," whispers Ra'tier already kneeling with his head down.

"Yeah, I learned that," Leonard sighs bitterly. He looks over at Akeem who is also kneeling. With a heavy sigh and health dose of self-incrimination Leonard forces himself into a similar position. With his head lowered to the ground he can't see what the guards are doing but he can hear the heavy clomping sound of their boots as they walk around. The cell doors ring out as they slide open. Out of the corner of his eye Leonard can see Ra'tier hasn't moved so he stays still too.

Another set of footsteps tap across the floor coming to stop in front of Leonard. The blunt end of a staff wedges itself under his's chin, forcing his head up. "Ah, there's the newest jewel in my crown," croons Hadeem. The twisted predatory smile is back. He claps twice. "Come, you're going to earn your sales price, my dear boy."

Two of the guards enter the cell, grabbing Leonard by the upper arms and pulling him to his feet. He has little choice but to walk with them. They leave the dilapidated barn, which is just one of three similar structures lined up against one edge of a large and dusty courtyard. The whole compound is large, stretching out far with fields of grains and fruits. There's a small cluster of huts across the courtyard but the focal point of the whole compound is the large house at the center of the property.

The convoy marches up the stairs and through the large intricately carved wooden doors. The house is even more impressive on the inside; a direct opposite to the living conditions where Leonard awoke this morning. There are four staircases at the back of the foyer, each twisting and curving in different directions. They take the third one to the left, every step bringing them closer to pained cries that echo off the walls.

Hadeem opens a door at the end of a long hall, the pained screams bursting through long before the door is wide open. Leonard's pushed through, whatever he thought he was being dragged to, this isn't it. He's barely had time to comprehend the situation when the Orion leans in close, breath tickling Leonard's ear. "My wife," he says indicating the young woman writhing on the bed, "is set to bring our son into the world today. The midwives are good, but they tell me this is going to be a difficult birth."

"Breech?" ask Leonard despite himself.

Hadeem tilts his head to the side with a one shoulder shrug, looking almost board. "Sha ta tier, McCoy."

Get to work. Leonard begrudgingly rolls up the sleeves of his faded and tattered black tunic he's been forced to wear; his uniform long since taken from him. He'd love nothing more than to protest but the only one to suffer would be an unborn child and its mother and Leonard is still enough of himself to remember his oath. The heavy wooden door closes behind him with a thud; the three midwives barely looking up at the interruption.

Leonard takes a deep breath. He's delivered his fair share of babies, some in pretty undesirable circumstances, but the tools at his disposal here are positively medieval especially for what has been deemed a problematic birth. The green clad midwife yells something at him, forcefully grabbing his hand and pressing it against the woman's extended belly. "I don't speak whatever that is," mumbles Leonard. It's another complication.

"Doctor McCoy?" says one of the two midwives in purple robes and veils.

Leonard has to look twice, to recognize his nurse under the purple veil. "Xanders?" Relief washes over Leonard and he almost wants to cry at the sight of a familiar face, someone that remembers the life they were forcibly ripped from.

"Thank god you're alright," she says with a pained smile and a few unshed tears.

Leonard would love to bask in the reunion but the patient lets out another pained yelled, reminding them their real purpose here. "The baby's breech?" he asks, hoping Xanders knows something useful that can aid them here.

The older and clearly in charge midwife based on the bark in her voice, yells something else at Leonard, looking at him expectantly and pointing to the night stand.

"Tojan… The lady's image," says the other midwife hesitantly, trying the words on for size. "She wants you to see the lady's image." She reaches over and waves her hand over the nightstand which is actually an imagining unit. A projection of the baby appears, show exactly the position of the baby.

"We have to get the baby to turn," says Leonard. Xanders nods but the other two stare at Leonard blankly. "Turn," emphasizes Leonard trying to mime the action with his hands.

The older midwife points at Leonard then at the patient in jarring movements that can only be interpreted as 'get to it.'

Leonard wipes at his hands with the cleanest part of the rag he managed to grab while staying in the wobbly wooden chair he's been told to sit on. It smears the blood more than it wipes it away but he has to do something. Looking at it just makes him feel guilty. He stares at Hadeem and the regal woman in the long blue velvet cloak and flowing black hair that appeared shortly after the birth, picking up the still screaming baby and wrapping it in bright green silk. The woman hasn't put the baby down since, though the baby's seemed to settle. Her and Hadeem whisper to one another as the midwives work to clean up the body and the room.

Leonard goes through every procedure he could have done to save the mother had he been on the Enterprise, if he just had access to proper medical care. The bleeding was too bad and without a transfusion, they never stood a chance of saving her. He wishes he could have done more.

The woman, who seems far too elegant for this world of pain and servitude, leaves with the child and Leonard hopes something far better than this life awaits the little babe where ever he's going.

"Ka-une," snaps Hadeem viciously.

Leave. Leonard sits there numbly as the midwives, Xanders included snap to attention, rushing out of the room as quickly as possible, only to be replaced by Cain and Abel. Leonard doesn't need a translator to know this isn't going to be good. Despite everything working against them, his team performed well in an unfortunate scenario they were never going to win. Leonard stands, tossing the blood soaked rag to the ground.

Hadeem stares Leonard, fire dancing in his eyes. "Reperent!"

Leonard gets down on his knees. "We did everything we could. The bleeding was too bad to save her," says Leonard, because it's the truth and he doesn't want whatever's coming to trickle down to the midwives working with him. He wants to demand why she wasn't given care earlier, or provided with better medical services that could have detected the issues earlier but doubts it would get him anywhere.

"You failed," spits Hadeem, emphasising his point with a swift and forceful backhand.

Leonard's head snaps to the side with the force of the blow; the rough cut gems of Hadeem's rings cutting into his cheek. His head is still spinning as Hadeem barks out something to Cain and Abel who grab Leonard by the arms and drag him out of the room.

The car pulls up to the front doors of Tranquil Acres Home, a state-of-the-art facility nestled in the remote and peaceful hill of New Haven. It looks more like a spa, enrobed in a bursting forest of lush greenery and babbling water features. Jim has a feeling it's more for the families' benefit than the residents'.

"Morning Charlene," Jim greets, passing by the reception desk. He can find Leonard's room with his eyes closed and name every single nurse and therapist in the building. He's even become acquainted with the family members of residents.

"How is he doing today?" asks Jim as he walks into Leonard's room. He sits in the recliner in the corner to give Leonard and the therapist their space. Three months of specialized care and Leonard still reacts badly to feeling crowded. It's part of the back slide Thai had warned would come with changing facilities. Just having one person in his personal space has been a vast improvement.

"We're just working on breakfast," informs the therapist as she helps guide a spoonful of porridge to Leonard's mouth. More gets on his shirt than in his mouth, but the spoon makes it from the bowl to his lips.

"Morning Leonard," greets Jim. Leonard gives no response, no attempt to acknowledge Jim's even entered the room. Jim tries not to be disappointed but despite his best efforts, it's hard to not start each day with the hope that this will be the day he walks into that room and Leonard will look at him, really look at him, and say, "Let's get out of here, Jim."

The therapist gives an apologetic smile. "We're still working on that one."

Jim nods minutely and tries again. "Moring McCoy." Leonard is still more responsive to his last name than any other. Especially on the bad days or when the therapists are trying to push something new on him. Most of the doctors believe it's because Leonard was in Starfleet and being addressed by his last name is more prominent in his memory. It's far more likely that during his indoctrination to the slave network, Leonard relied on name rank and serial number in which the slavers needing some way to identify which slave they wanted latched on to McCoy.

Jim still has a hard time referring to Leonard as McCoy. Mostly because it seems to formal for a friend and because Leonard responds to it as though the user is his new master and Jim just hates letting himself be associated in that role. The team here has been working to redirect Leonard to responding to his first name but it's been slow going so far. Jim doesn't have the stomach to call him Bones. That's not Bones sitting on the bed struggling with breakfast, it's just not. And it seems cruel to confuse this person with yet another name. It's the same reason Joanna calls him Leonard now instead of Daddy. That breaks Jim a little too.

Leonard looks up this time but doesn't say anything. Jim's shown up every day and Leonard still looks at Jim like some anomaly that's magically appeared. It's like he expects Jim to abandon him. That's new since coming here too.

Jim sits there silently. Too much stimuli steers Leonard into full meltdown territory. Just getting through breakfast and practicing the simple act of feeding himself is almost more than Leonard can handle at the moment. Probably the most disturbing part is watching how bad Leonard's hand shakes as he tries to perform the simple task of lifting a cup to his lips. Hands that were always so confident and sure, are now terrified to help him facilitate the basic act of feeding himself. Jim's seen Leonard save lives with those hands and those bastard slavers would beat him for not eating food out of a bowl like a dog. They took basic human dignity away from Leonard and now he has to learn it all again to get to the optimistic goal of the cognitive and physical abilities of a three year old.

The basic things are just a matter of rebuilding muscle and positive reinforcement that Leonard is in fact, allowed to do these things. Jim tries really hard not to imagine what life was like for his friend if being caught with a spoon in hand is enough to send Leonard into the throws of absolute terror. Jim's given up eating breakfast before he comes because every new trigger he learns makes his stomach turn violently.

"Good job, Leonard McCoy," praises the therapist as Leonard finishes his juice.

Jim sits there uncomfortably as she wipes the stray chunks of oat meal from his face, shirt and hands. "I'll leave you two until lunch," she says, taking away the breakfast tray.

Leonard watches her leave with trepidation but sits eerily still on the bed.

Jim gives her a tight smile as she leaves. He tries not to be jealous that Leonard seems a bit more at ease with the rehab staff than Jim. He tells himself it's because while he's there eight hours a day, the staff is around twenty-four seven and not because somewhere deep beneath all that scar tissue in Leonard's mind is some deep seeded knowledge that Jim is to blame for all of this. Obviously, he's taken to this place far better than the hospital. Isn't that another knife through the heart? Medical was where Leonard used to thrive, now looking back, Leonard must have seen his recent stay there as another form of torture by his new owners.

"Did you have a good sleep, Leonard?" asks Jim, breaking the silence that inevitably fills the void created by the staff leaving. Leonard makes a muffled grunting sound in the back of his throat that Jim's decided to interpret as yes. No, sounds more like a pained moan and is usually followed by repetitive twitches and desperate mewling. If Jim pretends Leonard understands it helps keep the conversation going. "I brought a new book."

Jim slowly pulls the old book from his bag careful to telegraph all his intended movements. Leonard spooks quite easily and the general speed setting for being around him is painfully slow. Jim hands the honest to god book over to Leonard for inspection.

Leonard takes it, keeping his eyes glued to Jim as he pulls the item close to his chest. Eventually he looks down at what he's been given. He opens it, the heavy hard cover flopping over easily, pulling a handful of pages with it. He runs his fingers over the smooth paper pages batting at the edges to get sections of the book to flip over.

Jim just watches. Leonard isn't reading it; the doctors are pretty sure he's lost that ability. He does seem fascinated with turning the pages, probably a little too roughly for the book's liking. Jim started to fill the silences between them by reading stories off a PADD, things he thought Leonard might be interested in but the PADD seemed to bother Leonard. So Jim tried bringing in a book. The response was better but Jim doesn't exactly collect ancient books in subjects that would have appealed to his friend. They make do with what Jim does have; Leonard probably isn't truly listening or even understanding it anyways. It just beats the endless one-sided conversations Jim has to dream up.

Leonard gets to the last page and frowns like the book's betrayed him somehow and literally tosses it towards Jim.

It's the only time Jim's glad for Leonard's lack of coordination. It falls about a foot away from the bed not even close to Jim catching it or getting hit by it. It's the only kind of invitation to take residence in the chair next to Leonard's bed rather than the recliner in the corner.

Jim gets up slowly, picking up the book on his way over.

Leonard goes from sitting on the edge of the bed to shuffling back until his back hits the wall and draws his knees to his chest.

Jim would like nothing more than to drive his fist through a wall or better yet, Leonard's captors' faces. He bites his lip instead. Nothing gets Leonard worked up faster than sensing any kind of negative emotions in Jim. Jim has a whole rule book devoted to Leonard, earned from many days of trial and error. He suspects he's barely finished writing the first chapter of that book.

He opens the book to the first page. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," he starts. Leonard will sit and listen to Jim for as long as he's willing to read. He just hopes Leonard isn't a captive audience and stays to listen because he enjoys it and not out of fear Jim will hurt him if he doesn't.

Jim's barely finished the first sentence which has to be the longest in human history, when Leonard starts rocking and enlisting a series of pained moans. Jim closes the book, placing it to rest on the edge of the bed as he leans closer to Leonard. "What's wrong?" He can't let Leonard hurt himself by slamming his head against the wall. He gently takes hold of Leonard's shoulders, firmly holding him against the wall to remove his momentum to bang his head.

Leonard kicks out, sending the book skipping across the floor. His body wriggles and squirms sinking further into the pillows, unleashing a deep seed scream that never seems to end.

Jim pulls back, letting go like he's been burned. The space gives Leonard enough room to wiggle off the bed and run out of the room. Jim sits there stunned, feeling dead inside. He's died so many times since Leonard was taken, but none of those deaths have seen fit to stick.

"Somebody's not a fan of Dickenson," says Jim, because if he doesn't find something else to think about he's going to cry. He forces himself out of the chair. There's a tiredness that's settled in him that weighs him down on the bad days and seems to whisper in the background on the good days.

It's a closed facility laid out in a square pattern with a courtyard in the center. Any room with anything that Leonard could hurt himself on or with, has an orderly stationed in it for constant supervision. The front door and door out to the walking paths and picnic areas are locked with an eight digit pass code that a ten year old could figure. He supposes that the point; visitors can't get stuck anywhere but the simple code is too advanced for the patients in the facility. And isn't that a knife in the heart? Leonard lead some of the most cutting edge advances in frontier medicine and is now confined by pass codes no more complex than two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve.

"You didn't happen to see which way Leonard went?" asks Jim. The elderly Ms Jenkins points towards the gymnasium with her knitting needle from outside her sister's room; Ms Jenkins faithful visitor of her sister every weekend for over sixty years. It's endearing if not a little jolt of heart breaking reality that no one in this place ever gets 'better'. "Thanks," says Jim, following her direction.

It's not hard to catch up to Leonard and even if Jim did lose him, he can still hear him yelling the same meaningless sounds as he goes. He's moving like he's on a mission but clearly lost within the confines of the facility. Jim keeps his distance, far enough back that Leonard won't feel crowded but close enough to keep an eye on him and intervene if necessary.

Leonard doesn't do a lot of things without being explicitly told. Not following orders was met with dire consequences, case in point, a lobotomy to enforce servitude when a slave becomes unruly, so Leonard pretty much avoids autonomy. He actually seems happier when given direct orders, which Jim is loath to give, wanting to put as much distance between himself and any resemblance of Leonard's masters.

Leonard struggles with the door to the gymnasium, not because it's locked but he seems weary of the dependability of automatic doors. Eventually he gets the nerve to cross the threshold, padding through the gym on a mission.

"It's not our time for gym activities," protests Jim tiredly. Getting angry doesn't get him anywhere but some days the frustration at not gaining any real measurable ground eats away at him. If the situation was reversed, Leonard would have Jim on the Enterprise by now. The man beat death for Jim. Jim's just not the person for this job; it would have been better if it was him on that away mission.

"That's alright, Zach here doesn't mind sharing," says Mike, the physical therapist working on building up the strength in Zach's right leg. They're on a mat in the corner of the gym leaving most of the facility open and empty.

Leonard makes a bee line into the supply closet, ignoring all the equipment set up for activities today. Jim follows, figuring Leonard's after the large exercise balls they keep in there. It seems to be a favourite since Joanna made a game out of bouncing them off of objects to get them to knock over bowling pins. Leonard does go directly to the ball bin but instead of pulling any out (the blue and purple ones currently the favourite options), he crawls into the ball storage bin. He has to pushes a few balls out of the way to make space for himself. Once in, he moves the balls back, covering himself until he's just a head in a sea of rubber exercise balls.

Jim's not sure if Leonard actually thinks he's well hidden or if he just feels safer being closed in. He refuses to test the theory by giving Leonard a box fort to play in. It's not that Jim wouldn't do it for Leonard, it just makes Jim feel gross treating Leonard like a child. This is a man who once helped avoid interplanetary war by finding a cure for biological weapons, who now, finds playing catch a difficult concept to participate in. "Come on, let's go back to your room." He refrains from patting his leg like he's breaking in a puppy. "Let's go. We can take some with us."

Nothing.

At least Leonard stopped screaming. "Okay. Have it your way," concedes Jim. He leans against the wall and slowly slides down until he's sitting on the floor. Leonard watches him like a hawk. Jim's never had someone stare at him so intently all the time before.

In all the months Leonard had been gone, Jim hadn't gotten comfortable with the uncomfortable silence that seems to have settled in his life. "I know the world's a scary place," he babbles, because the silence is begging to be filled and he's long since run out of useful things to talk about. "Believe me, I know. But you can't just hide away. I need you to come back. We'll do this together."

Leonard just buries himself deeper. Jim can understand that; he wants to hid a lot of the time too.

"Excuse me, Captain," says the meek receptionist that works beside Charlene.

"It's just Jim," he reminds her for the umpteenth time, though in fairness, he's never been able to remember her name either.

She smiles apologetically. "There's a Mrs Jocelyn Treadway-McCoy on a call demanding to be allowed to visit her husband."

Jim let's his head bounce off the wall with a thud. There are so many things wrong with that statement, he doesn't know where to begin.

"She doesn't seem to be on the approved visitor's list," adds the receptionist, like it must be some kind of mistake.

Jim wants to tell her the only mistake is Jocelyn herself, but settles for giving a tight, tired smile. "Thanks. I'll take care of it." He didn't pointedly leave her off the approved visitor list, though if she had asked to be on it Jim probably would have sided against it. She simply never made any attempt to see Leonard. Hell, she rarely asks after him in all the times she comms him to make arrangements to drop off Joanna, which is alarmingly frequent.

"Call is on channel four," she informs before shuffling out of the storage room.

Leonard looks at Jim wearily from the refuge of the ball bin.

"Is there room in there for one more?" Jim could get behind hiding away and pretending his problems don't exist, especially with the barbarian at the gate. He watches passively as a dull rubber ball bounces across the floor, slowly rolling to a stop in the corner.

Leonard watches it too, but doesn't seem inclined to push another one out of the bin.

"I'll take that as a no," says Jim dejectedly. Whatever Leonard's ex-wife wants, it can't be good. In the months since Leonard's been rescued, she's only inquired about him twice and those conversations were more of a demand for proof of life than any concern for his well being.

"You wouldn't want to come with me?" Jim asks. He's not looking forward to the fight that will ensue if he has to drag Leonard out of there.

Leonard doesn't seem interested in leaving his fortress of solitude and Jim can't take the call in a storage room. He calls out to Mike who's still doing stretching exercises with one of the residents. "Do you mind keeping an eye on him for a minute?"

"Not a problem," agrees Mike glancing up from the mat.

Jim takes a deep breath and heads to one of the conference rooms used to discuss patient progress and program implementation. He toys with the idea with just terminating the call, blaming a bad connection for the interruption and begging forgiveness on a day he feels more up to dancing with the devil. Jocelyn's persistent though and ravenous when she thinks she's being ignored. Jim would rather push Sisyphus's boulder up a hill for eternity than poke this particular bear without good reason.

"Jocelyn, to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure," he says with that smile that makes her eyes squint and brow furrow, exposing the wrinkles around her eyes. He's won't poke the bear, but he's not above taunting it.

"Imagine my surprise when I make enquires about visitation and find out I don't have clearance to see my husband," she states in that cold steely lawyer voice she dissects opponents with.

"Ex-husband. I believe you're married to Clay now," corrects Jim. It's amazing the details that slip her mind when it's convenient: relationship statuses, her level of concern for Leonard, fair notice about visitation scheduling. "And what could you possible want to see Leonard about?"

"Joanna says you take her to see him quite often."

Jim nods. "It's true. She has a right to see him. And I don't think you get a say in what Joanna and I do when she with me as long as she isn't in danger." Jim's never mentioned the sleeping meds incident and since his head isn't on a pike, Joanna mustn't have said anything either. Part of him knows he should, it's the right thing to do. He remains silent because he can't do anything for Joanna if Jocelyn takes her away and future full of potential good seems more important than the immediate cleansing of his conscience.

"That's just it. I want to see what you're exposing my daughter to."

Jim's kind of been expecting this. Not the potential visit from Jocelyn but the desperate search to try and overturn the recent decision in their custody war. She hadn't made it easy, earning her reputation as a cut throat lawyer, but in the end, the judge ruled that Jocelyn's concern for Jim's fitness as a guardian must not be that great if she was comfortable enough to have Jim supervise so often. In her efforts to give Jim ample opportunity to demonstrate his unfitness, she unintentionally gave him all the proof he needed to establish joint custody. "Leonard doesn't react well to strangers."

"All the more reason I should know what you're getting my daughter into."

Jim wants to be difficult and say no, let the chips fall where they may. He can't deny a certain level of satisfaction he'd derive from making Jocelyn's life difficult after years of watching Leonard capitulate to all of her demands for just a scrap of time with his own daughter. Except maybe now he sees Leonard didn't surrender because he couldn't fight the monster, he did it so Joanna wouldn't get caught in the middle. "I'll make arrangements for you to tour the facility. You can even watch some sessions but you're not going to speak with him."

Jocelyn looks like she's going to protest but Jim cuts her off. "This is my show and I have to do what's best for Leonard."

"Fine," she snaps ending the call.

Jim tosses another handful of oats on the path by the duck pond. It's not his idea of fun but Leonard seems to be enamoured with them. Leonard would sit there for hours watching them swim and waddle across the grass if Jim let him.

Leonard seems interested in watching all kinds of birds, so much so, that Joanna acquired a bird book for them to mark off which species they've seen and which to keep an eye out for. There's talks of going to the bird sanctuary but Jim's not sure he's brave enough to try an outing with Leonard yet. The only reason he feels safe going out in the yard here, is there's a whole building full of highly trained professionals available should something go wrong.

"Here," says Jim pouring a handful of oats into Leonard's hand. He takes his own handful and throws it out to the waiting hoard. "Like this." Jim's careful to say it slowly, over pronouncing each syllable as per the speech therapists instruction. It's a long shot but if Leonard can gasp onto the sounds they're making he might be able to develop a small vocabulary. They're outside now taking a much needed break from another speech session that's going absolutely nowhere except frustrating Leonard.

Leonard looks at the pile of oats in his hand then the ones scattered on the ground. He turns his hand over not quite grasping the concept of throwing them. They mostly fall in his lap and around his feet.

"Close enough," sighs Jim.

It works out for the best since the ducks waddle even closer, gobbling up the oats from his lap. They're pretty tame, almost gentle with Leonard.

Jim gives him another handful. "Ducks. Du-ck-s."

"Hmmm Rrrrd," hums Leonard.

A warm breeze blows through the park, rustling the bright green leaves in the trees and causing the sea of red and pink flowers to bob their heads. It carries Joanna's soft giggles up from the bench at the duck pond to the gazebo Jim's perched in. He can't help but smile as Leonard fumbles with the latest clapping pattern Joanna tries to implement. Their latest round of patty cake never gets past half speed but the seriousness in which Leonard is focusing on trying to meet his daughter's hands to keep the game going is adorable.

It would be a picturesque afternoon if it weren't for the extra company. Despite the warm temperature, Jim can feel the cold front holding position beside him. "How can you think this isn't good for Joanna?" asks Jim, keeping a weathered eye on the pair at the duck pond.

"Leonard graduated early and then again at the top of his class in med school. He has several PhDs and was at the front of xenomedicine. A top member of his field, a pioneer. Do you think he'd want anyone to see him like this? Not even able to play patty cake?" asks Jocelyn, not even cruelly by her standards.

Jim sighs. He can't argue, it's a pretty big fall Leonard's taken. Except those aren't the things that made Leonard great. "I think he's playing with his daughter," snaps Jim affronted.

"And what good is he to her now? They're playmates at best. What happens in a couple of years when she's older than him? Brings home potential partners? Nothing scares away suitors faster than finding out she's responsible for him. That their future together will include an invalid that will always come before the family they're trying to make. "

"I'm responsible for him," corrects Jim. "And she'll be happy to include him in her life wherever he can fit."

"You'll be responsible? Jim Kirk? I've done my research on you. You're never responsible for anything are you? You'll get board or find some tail to chase, or some pretty ship to steer and then you'll be gone, leaving Joanna the mess. And that girl's too soft to do what needs to be done. She'll be saddled with him her whole life. She's soft hearted like her father. I know what Leonard would want."

It's not like Jim hasn't thought about these things and more. What if all this has a negative effect of Joanna? What if Jim does something to irrevocably screw her up? All he needs though is that look in Joanna's eye as she plays with Leonard to dig his heels in. "If you had any clue what Leonard wanted, you'd still be married."

Jocelyn takes a deep breath. "You think me cruel," she says in a subdued voice.

"The thought has crossed my mind… and stayed there."

Her eyes get watery as she says, "You weren't there when everything was falling apart and he was complicit in taking us with him. He spent so much time at the hospital he practically didn't see Joanna for six months."

"His father was dying. He was trying to save him," Jim counters irritated. If he had a chance to save his father, he'd leave no stone unturned too.

"Yes he was," she concedes, "but after that, Leonard spent so much time at the bottom of a bottle it didn't matter that he was home all the time. Do you know how many mornings Joanna would find him passed out on the couch?"

Jim doesn't. Leonard was very up front that the divorce was his fault and Jocelyn revelled in taking everything from him. Leonard was never specific about the details but over the years Jim's been able to piece together most of the story. Leonard is surprisingly forthcoming and truthful after a night of drinking. "He was going through some pretty big things." A certain sense of déjà vu washes over him. He can't shake the image of Joanna coming out of his room that morning and trying to wake him up, of having to call Pike because Leonard listed him as a last resort, Hail Mary, Jim saviour.

"We were all going through things then. Leonard was the only one that almost killed our daughter," say Jocelyn, voice breaking as the tears start to fall.

Jim's stomach freezes. He's not sure he wants to hear the next part. There isn't a scenario he can think of in which Leonard would let any harm come to his daughter, yet Jocelyn just accused him of such.

"He was supposed to be watching her. He knew about it days before and he still chose to work a triple the day before. I guess the stimulants ran out from his days without sleep because he fell asleep and Joanna swallowed a bunch of meds from Leonard's bag that he left on the damn floor. She was blue when he woke up. For three days we didn't know if she was going to make it. All because she wanted to play doctor like her daddy and he was too far gone to pay attention. He almost destroyed her life then, I won't let him do it again." She wipes away the tears with her well manicured hand.

"This isn't the same." Jim wants to throw up. He has flashbacks to his own foray into self medicating and the edge he almost threw himself over while Joanna watched. If Leonard can mess up like that, why in god's green earth would he think Jim would be suitable to fill the position of guardian? Leonard's current state is nowhere near the same ballpark. More importantly, Leonard and Joanna aren't alone in this.

"Don't you see how this works? She's just like Leonard; she'll sacrifice everything for him, destroying her life in the process."

"I won't let that happen. He's my responsibility, not hers," assures Jim because he won't fail that little girl or his best friend again.

"If she's allowed to keep him in her life, she'll make decisions about her future with him in mind. Where to go to school? Better be close to dad. A job? Something near or limited so she can spend the most amount of time with him. A family, kids? Forget it, she'll never meet anyone playing nursemaid. And for what? I've read the reports. Optimistically he's as advanced as a two year old. She's already four times more advanced than him. There's nothing he can give her. You're not a parent, so you don't know, but Leonard, the real Leonard, wouldn't want this for his daughter. It's better to stop this now when they can both forget each other."

Jim doesn't know what the future holds. Jocelyn may be right, but watching the two of them together right now, Jim can't find the fault. "He can be her patty cake partner for now. That's what he can do for her."

Leonard chops what he's chosen to call a carrot, careful to not disturb his bruised ribs or jostle his mangled wrist too much as he does. Kitchen duty is far better than toiling in the fields in the hot unforgiving sun. The ribs are a lasting reminder not fail his self appointed master, even when the situation is set up for him to fail. He took several beatings and a week locked in a metal box left out to marinate in the sweltering heat for Hadeem's wife's death. He's sure he'd be out in the fields with everyone else tending to the crops that feed the compound if not for Hadeem's desire to protect his investment, specifically Leonard's hands.

His wrist is another matter. All of the new acquisitions, Leonard, Bradford and Xanders included were taken to one of the sheds near the perimeter of the fields. Leonard had a sinking feeling the second he laid eyes on the boiling cauldron.

One by one, each was yanked out of line and forced to kneel in front a metal table. Two of the accompany guards would force the subject's hand through a metal cuff that snapped shut with two bands preventing any escape not matter how hard they struggled. And Leonard struggled. The blacksmith took a laded of the bubbling thick black soup and poured it between the two metal band allowing the scalding hot liquid to pour around their wrists forming a bracelet, eliciting animalistic howls and screams from the slaves. The substance cooled and hardened quickly but Leonard can still feel it burn, like a phantom pain.

Now it looks like nothing more than a fashion statement; a simple shiny black bracelet fused around Leonard's wrist permanently. The swelling's gone down and the scabs sloughing off in favor of new skin loosening the band enough that Leonard can jam the handle of his dinner spoon underneath to scratch and try and sooth the itch. Leonard doesn't know what it is besides barbaric but Ra'tier says it's a metal that interferes with federation sensors, more specifically transporters. A metaphorical anchor around his neck should help arrive.

Leonard's chopped so many vegetables, his hands are starting to cramp and his back is aching fiercely from bending over his work space. The vinegar like smell the rest of the kitchen crew is using to can the vegetables is burning Leonard's nose. He adds another handful of chopped bright pink carrot into the bin. His hands are stained from the juices of the various vegetables to the point that no amount of scrubbing seems to remove them. Leonard twists and stretches his back trying to work out the kinks and cramps. "How do you do it?" he asks, looking at Ra'tier who looks perfectly comfortable in his task.

Ra'tier raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up from his methodical chopping. "Proper posture is key."

Leonard scowls. His posture isn't that bad, though now that he's faced with endless hours of labor, it might not be as good as he once thought. He's not the only one that looks uncomfortable from sitting on a hard stool all day peeling and chopping. There are several familiar faces from the cell block Leonard calls home. Bradford is toiling in the fields and Xanders is on house duty somewhere in the large manner house. He sees Bradford at night but only catches a glimpse of Xanders in the halls every once in awhile.

Ra'tier is his only constant companion besides Akeem but conversations with her are completely one sided. Who would have thought Leonard would look forward, no- enjoy, the company of a Vulcan. He can hardly wait to see Spock's face when he tells him he made friends with a Vulcan. If, he ever gets to tell Spock.

Two Orions from the fields drag in a large wooden crate and drop it in the center of the table. The round vegetables bonk against the sides of the crate. Leonard peeks over the edge. They're green like an apple but the skin looks rougher and the dirt coating them suggests they're some sort of a root vegetable. "Just when I thought we were almost done," mutters Leonard as Akeem takes one and starts peeling.

"They're mezapin," says Ra'tier, "similar to a human potato I believe."

A potato would be nice or any food from home. Hell, the stuff Leonard is preparing is looking appetizing but it's certainly not the bland colorless mush that gets thrown into their cells. Leonard's so busy daydreaming about a proper meal he doesn't notice the small boy that comes running into the kitchen from the servant's door.

The toddler is too busy looking behind him instead of ahead of him, that runs smack into the edge of the table bonking his head and sending him careening into Leonard's side. The impact jars Leonard's arm, the knife slicing the flesh off the pink carrot slipping forward against Leonard left hand. "Shit!" he hisses as the bite of the blade registers.

The toddler crashes to the ground with a wail as Leonard stands up abruptly, clenching his hand tight to stem the bleeding. Fresh red blood slowly drips off the table.

"Cha-toe!" calls a panicked woman as she enters the kitchen. She immediately sweeps the child up in her arm, rocking him and whispering soothing sounds in his ear.

Akeem hesitantly hands Leonard a cloth for his hand, careful to keep her distance as it hangs off the tip of her fingers of her outstretched arm. Leonard takes it gratefully, wrapping it around the palm of his hand. "Thank you," says Leonard as Akeem darts back to her spot at the table like a scared deer, quick to get back on task lest the guards should enter and find her out of her spot. The cut is shallow but wide, starting at the base of his thumb, peeling the flesh back to the middle of his hand. There's a lot of blood but it's mostly superficial; the real concern besides having a chunk of skin that needs a regenerator or even primitive stitches flapping about, is infection setting in.

"Are you alright?" asks Ra'tier, pausing in his work to assess the situation.

"Fine," hisses Leonard. He wraps the cloth and pulls the knot tightly with his teeth. It's just one more wound on his ever growing list. He looks over at the Orion woman and child whose sobs have turned into body shaking coughs. Unlike most Orions whose skin tone ranges in the forest green spectrum, the small boy is the color of mint ice cream. "Is he alright?" asks Leonard stepping closer to try and examine the child.

"Forgive," pleads the familiar looking woman.

"You're one of the midwives," says Leonard getting a good look at her, more specifically the one that managed a few words of broken Standard.

"Forgive," she says again, this time more hastily, before holding the boy tighter and rushing out of the room.

Leonard stands there staring curiously at the door they exited. "What do you know about those two?" asks Leonard, sitting back down. He wipes at the blood on the table with the hem of his shirt before carefully moving his cutting board further down the table. He imagines beyond the glaring health concerns how well tainting the food with blood will go.

"Very little. She has been a house servant for the three years I have been at this compound. She only ventures out of the house when Master Hadeem does," replies Ra'tier.

"Is that her son? And any chance the father is human?" asks Leonard, trying to keep the growing unease in his gut in check.

"There are many children at the compound, most are the master's but I can inquire if you desire."

Leonard should mind his own business; it's not like he can do anything if his hunch is correct. Still, he can't seem to ignore the concern turning in his head. "Yeah."

Turns out, Jim has an extraordinary amount of time on his hands when he doesn't even have Starfleet busy work to maintain. It makes it hard to find an excuse to not look for a new place. He's seen hundreds of places but none of them feel like they reflect his life. It's probably because Jim himself doesn't know what his life is anymore.

He spent his formative years directionless and teen years flirting with delinquency. Starfleet and earning that captain's chair is the first time he had a solid direction in his life. Jim's not sure he can successfully reinvent himself again now that he's had a taste of his life's true purpose is.

Finding a new place to live feels like giving up the last shred of who he is. It's stupid. It's not like he spent an exorbitant amount of time there; it was more of a place to crash during down time on earth. Most of the decorations and furniture came with the place, so it's not like Jim put his own personal touch on the place either. Joanna's done more to make it feel like a home in the short time she's been there then Jim has in the entire three years he's lived there.

Jim looks around the city but the check list he used to find his first place isn't applicable anymore. Close to Starfleet is irrelevant if he's on leave. Near a social scene doesn't matter if he doesn't have a personal life anymore. A spacious layout and large bedroom are irrelevant if doesn't entertain anyone anymore. What does that leave him with?

The only thing on his new list is that it has at least two bedrooms. Beyond that, Jim isn't sure. He has no idea what he should look for in a place with a kid in tow. Near a good school comes to mind but Joanna technically lives with her mom so she attends school in Atlanta. Do kids require anything specific beyond that?

Jim thinks about Leonard's place and what it had. Three bedrooms, one for Leonard, one for Joanna and one for Jim to crash in when stayed too late commiserating with Leonard over bourbons. A large kitchen and dining room, because Leonard knew how to cook and believed in family dinners. Jim can't cook to save his soul and their schedules make formal meals frivolous.

He thinks about what he had as a child; expansive fields and star filled skies. The place he really felt like he was at home though, was the summer weeks he'd spend on his Aunt's property. The property had been in his father's family for generations; a two story family home tucked on a stretch of land nestled just outside of town with lush green forest surrounding it and stream running through the property. His Aunt kept goats and horses in the barn and a small garden that could be seen from the kitchen window. Jim spent his time playing in the orchard or swimming in the pond in a piece of paradise that was secluded and safe.

The property was placed in a trust for Jim and Sam, being the only Kirk heirs since their Aunt passed without any children of her own. Jim hasn't been back to the property since she passed and he knows Sam has no use for anything from their past. It's probably fallen into disrepair but Jim schedules in some time to go and check it out. It might be the answer he's looking for.

"It's a good luck feather," reads Joanna, slow and steady, careful to enunciate every syllable like the speech therapist suggested. She turns the brightly colored page of the children's book making sure Leonard has a good view of the cartoon birds.

Jim's only half listening, splitting his attention between keeping an eye on the pair and doing his own research. Joanna picked out the book, which is a little babyish for her reading level but it was about birds and easy to read like the therapist suggested. The hope is to get Leonard to start forming words with the nonsensical sounds he seems intent on using if presented with simple and repetitive words.

Leonard seems happy enough to sit next to Joanna and listen, running his hand over the pictures as she reads. Every once in awhile he hesitantly glances over at Jim like he expects Jim to put an end to their fun.

Jim just smiles and makes a show of going back to reading his own PADD. He'd rather be reading the story of how Petey the bird learns how to fly then the intel reports he convinced a former fling to send him. Jim's been discreetly pulling reports on the Orion slave ring for a few weeks now in the hopes of tracking down those responsible for doing this to Leonard. If he can't be Captain of the Enterprise anymore, seeker of justice sounds like a good title to hold.

"Look he's flying," says Joanna pointing at the page.

"Hmmm rrrrrd," mumbles Leonard, delighted at the depiction of the bright blue bird flying with the rest of the flock.

Joanna closes the book. "The end."

"Mmnnn," huffs Leonard, frustration clearly written on his face.

"I have another one," says Joanna, reaching into her backpack and pulling out another cardboard book and placing it on the table. "This one is about farm animals," she adds opening the book up to the first page and pointing at fluffy looking sheep. "Look a sheep."

Leonard frowns, kicking the extra chair out from under the table. He lets out a pained growl that Jim's decided to interpret as no.

"Leonard, shut-tu," warns Jim, putting down his reading and giving Leonard and Joanna his full attention. Jim's never had to test what he'd do next if commands fail him but the possibility always lurks in the back of his mind.

Leonard hangs his head looking miserable but the pending outburst is halted. He stares sullenly at the barnyard book, less engaged this time as Joanna hesitantly begins reading it.

Jim doesn't miss the way Joanna tenses when he gives orders or says something not in Standard. He's never told her what the words mean or why they work. He hopes to never have to but given her normal inquisitive nature and the fact that she never asks, Jim has a sinking suspicion she knows.

Joanna goes all out in her reading, complete with the full array of animal sounds to accompany the pictures and a very heartfelt and valiant effort to vocally model the animal names. Leonard sits there patiently but he's starting to fidget and squirm in his seat. Joanna doesn't notice the minute movements but Jim does.

"Okay, I think it's time to call it a day," says Jim as Joanna finishes the book. He can handle Leonard being frustrated with him or the support staff and therapists that push Leonard do to things he might not want to do at the moment but Jim's not going to let Joanna become a source of that frustration. As much as Leonard seems to be amicable to Joanna's presence, three stories and an afternoon spent in the garden seems to be the limit.

"Awe," pouts Joanna. "But I have one more book."

"Then you'll have something for next time. Leonard has other sessions he has to do today and we should let him get to them," insists Jim.

"Okay," she sighs, packing up the books in her backpack.

Leonard looks at Jim, worry and panic starting to shape his features. In the beginning Jim's pretty sure Leonard didn't pay attention to his comings and goings or who was visiting or not. Lately though, Leonard seems to have a look like a lost puppy whenever Jim goes to leave the facility. It's worse when Joanna spends more quality time with Leonard than Jim does.

Leonard follows them to the admissions front door, trailing a few steps behind. He looks over his shoulder constantly, over come with the indecision of whether to follow or stay in his room. Leonard is of course free to move about the facility, a freedom he seldom invokes on his own.

"Bye, Leonard. We'll see you again soon," bids Joanna as she skips through the entrance.

Jim hangs back a little. One of the nurses is waiting at admissions to redirect Leonard once Jim and Joanna leave but Jim feels like today might be an issue because Leonard looks like he's willing to follow them right out of the facility. "Leonard, I'm going to come see you tomorrow," says Jim firmly, hoping to dissuade from the idea of accompanying them any further.

Leonard gets on his knees but resists the urge to go completely to the floor. He stays there, looking longingly at Jim as Jim slowly shuffles backwards towards the door.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Jim promises again.

"Errrrrrr mmmmn," huffs Leonard. His hands clench into fists at his sides. He shuffles forward on his knees a few steps. It's when Jim finally turns to step through the door that Leonard hangs his head. Long after the entrance is locked to keep the residents safely inside, Leonard finally gets to his feet, sullenly following the nurse back to his room for dinner.

Leonard's heading back to the kitchen after cleaning out a cut from and ill-advised tree climbing incident one of Hadeem's pre teen sons attempted when someone yanks him out of the hallway and into a servants staircase. "What the hell?" demands Leonard yanking his arm back. It's probably the wrong thing to say, especially if it's one of the guards.

"Shhhhh," whispers the woman placing her hand firmly over Leonard's mouth.

Leonard swallows his next protest. It's the midwife from the other day, the one Ra'tier found out is named Lyran.

"Please," she whispers, beckoning Leonard to follow as she leads the way down the dark staircase, candle in hand.

Leonard glances back towards the hallway. Someone is going to notice he didn't return from tending to the young heir and surely there will be hell to pay. Leonard follows because of all the things that have been beaten into him all these months, self-preservation obviously isn't one of them.

The staircase goes on forever, winding further down than Leonard has ever been. The wooden door at the bottom creaks and moans as Lyran forces it open into a dark an ominous space. She pulls open the dark blanket hanging across the entrance revealing a dimly lit room comprised of rows of bunk beds. Leonard follows her to where the young boy is lying.

Leonard doesn't need his medical equipment to see the child looks miserable; a wet cough rattling his small chest. He places a hand on the boy's forehead and resorts to the ineffective option of pressing his ear against the boy's chest to try and listen to the raspy breaths. "How long has he been like this?"

Lyran mulls over the question. "Sick forever, more now." She hovers near the end of the bed, worried.

Leonard takes the boy's wrist, mentally counting the beats of his pulse. "Your Standard is pretty decent," he comments as he continues his examine. Beyond Ra'tier, Bradford and Xanders and the brief introduction from Hadeem when Leonard first arrived here no one else seems to speak it or at least not openly. The guards seem especially disgruntled at hearing it used. Leonard knows enough of whatever the dominant language is around the compound to understand the very precise and repetitive commands he's given but not enough to converse with any other prisoners of this hell.

"I speak tiny amount," she confirms. "Carter instruct I," she adds with a fond smile, the kind reserved for those dear to one's heart.

"Carter happen to be the boy's human father?" asks Leonard. He's hoping the answer's no; that one of the substantial blows he's taken to the head has impacted brain function particularly the part that remembers Orion physiology. Every instinct he has is telling him his initial assessment is correct.

Lyran looks around the otherwise empty room as though someone might manage to hear them. It's the same look of trepidation and fear all the servants seem to wear. "Yes. Carter proud father of Tyler."

Leonard tries to hide his concern behind a sympathetic smile. "Is Carter still here?" he asks, hopefully. He could use someone to translate his suspicions into something Lyran can understand.

"Master sell Carter. Only name Tyler Capi-doe now."

"You gave birth to Tyler here."

Lyran nods.

Leonard figures he knows the answer but asks anyways. He can only hope he is wrong. "Ever have him tested for something called Harbious syndrome?" Lyran just stares at him blankly. "It's a genetic condition that occurs in eighty percent of human/orion offspring. It's usually diagnosed right away and treated through genetic re-sequencing during early embryo stages. It can be treated after birth but if left untreated it proves fatal usually by age six." He knows he's lost Lyran somewhere in the explanation but there's really no easy way to say your son is probably going to die because humans and orion aren't the most compatible without medical intervention.

He used to wonder who the forty percent of orions were that never tested for Harbious during pregnancy and the twenty percent still that never sought treatment at all. It's not like it isn't something any competent medical professional would test for. Looking around at the people he's now living with, he has a good idea who makes up that twenty percent.

Lyran shakes her head. "No doctor," she sobs looking helplessly at her son.

"I don't have the proper medical equipment to treat him. He needs a hospital, a medical center," he tries.

Lyran looks at him with tear filled eyes. "No doctor come. Only you."

"I can't…" Leonard can do no more for Lyran's son then he could Hadeem's wife.

There's a creak on the stairs and Lyran is quick to place her hand over Leonard's mouth. They listen in painstaking silence until a door further up the staircase opens and shuts. "Sandrit will provide," whispers Lyran as she shoves Leonard out the room towards the stairs. "Go before caught," she urges before returning to her son.

Jim sets out the brightly colored plates on the weathered wooden picnic table. Multi colored balloons bob in the gentle breeze, securely fastened to the corners of the picnic table.

"So is there a theme?" asks Sulu as he follows behind Jim, setting out utensils.

"A theme? I thought birthday was a theme." Jim's never planned a birthday party that didn't involve taking someone out to the bar before and given the age of the birthday girl, that course of action seems wildly inappropriate.

"Little kids usually have a theme, something they like, such as mermaids and under the sea, or princesses and ponies, or animals, or space, or whoever the latest holodeck character is. Something that ties all the decorations together."

Jim thinks about how he used to run a starship and how easier that seems in contrast. "In that case, the theme is I have no idea what I'm doing. I thought the teal and pink plates accented by the blue balloons would really bring out how out of my depth I am," sighs Jim. Someone should really make a how to manual for this sort of thing. He feels like he could use a whole how to series to get through life now.

He wasn't even planning on having a party for Joanna since her mother had one on her actual birthday last week at home with her friends. Joanna doesn't really have any friends in San Francisco, so Jim was just going to take her out and do something fun, just the two of them. That was until Joanna said she wanted to have a birthday party with Leonard; cue the last minute hustle to try and pull something off that fulfills the request while making it possible to include Leonard.

Sulu smiles fondly. "We have you covered," he assures, grabbing some of the colored napkins and quickly folding them. He finishes, triumphantly holding up a brightly colored bird. "Now it's animal themed." He waves over Ben who is playing in the grass with Demora and Chekov. "Can you give me a hand making some animal decorations?" Together they make a whole menagerie of folded animals to put on display.

"Where is the birthday girl?" asks Ben as he helps set out the food.

"She and Leonard are in the gym playing some game one of the therapists taught her. Christine is supervising so I can get everything set up," says Jim. Thank god for Christine.

"How's she handling everything?" asks Sulu running the scissors down a strip of ribbon to curl it.

"She's an eternal ray of positivity and sunshine," says Jim dully. "Should I be concerned she doesn't have any friends here?" he adds surveying the guests. Jim's the one that did the inviting; Sulu, Ben and Demora because Joanna seems to have fun at their place when they babysit for Jim, and Chekov because Joanna really seems to enjoy their outings, and Christine because she's always good with Joanna and a long time acquaintance having worked with Leonard for years. He intentionally kept the guest list small so as to not overwhelm Leonard but there weren't any kids Joanna's age to exclude in the first place.

Ben asks, "Does she have friends in Atlanta?"

"She does at school and Jocelyn has her participating in a bunch of different clubs and teams."

"Then she's probably fine," assures Ben with a soft smile. "It's probably just more important to her to use the time here to see her father than find someone to play games with. Demora's only four and her favourite stuffed animal gets tossed in a corner whenever Hikaru is home."

Jim chews on his lip. He wishes he felt more confident, that he knew he was getting this guardian thing right. He wishes he had Leonard to run things by so he knows he's doing them right.

"There's the birthday girl!" cheers Sulu as Joanna comes bouncing out the door with Christine coaxing Leonard behind her.

Joanna lights up; her face hardly able to contain her smile as she sees the bright decorations and pile of presents. "Come on Leonard," she calls rushing to sit down at the picnic table.

Leonard hangs back, standing awkwardly. There are unfamiliar faces in larger numbers than normal. He shifts from foot to foot trying to decide the appropriate course of action in such circumstances. He watches Joanna closely as she takes a seat among the all the people; a soft whine building in the back of his throat. The urge to retreat to familiar space is building but Christine is standing between him and the door back inside. Neither Joanna nor Christine have given any orders as to how Leonard should conduct himself.

"Why don't you go and get yourself some lunch," offers Jim coming to stand next to Christine and Leonard. He places a firm hand on Leonard's shoulder as Christine walks towards the table.

Leonard sags in relief.

"They're friends," whispers Jim, gently guiding Leonard towards a large rock formation close enough to the picnic that he and Leonard are still part of the group, but still maintaining distance. He carefully sets his plate down on part of the rock formation so he can keep his other hand resting against the back of Leonard's neck as he sits down.

Leonard quickly kneels down on the grass, close enough to Jim that his shoulder is pressed against Jim's leg.

Jim adverts his eyes as his friends look at them funny. This is the first time Chekov and the Sulus have seen Leonard since those early days in medical after his rescue. They don't mean anything by the looks, in fact, they're all quick to look away, but it's a reminder that the man they once knew is gone. That things are different.

They stay off to the side through lunch. Jim hands down bite sized pieces of fruit and other finger foods that Leonard can happily munch on without utensils. Jim passes on the cake wanting to avoid that weird uncomfortable and awkward tension that builds when people watch or try not to watch Jim feed Leonard by hand or Leonard's struggles to feed himself. Normally Jim doesn't care but he's trying to keep the mood for the party positive and anything concerning her father as normal and common place to Joanna as possible. Leonard doesn't seem to mind; he's more interested in watching the butterflies and birds in a nearby bush to be interested in anything going on in the group.

Through endless coaxing, Joanna finally convinces Leonard to sit next to her at the picnic table. He sits hesitantly on the end, eyeing the grass next to the table like that should be his spot. Joanna picks out a perfectly wrapped present, demonstrating slowly to Leonard how to rip off the shiny pink paper. Once off she hands it to Leonard who pokes at it gently before scrunching it in his hand to hear it crinkle.

Leonard's to busy squishing the paper from the first present to notice Joanna has moved on to her next. This one has shiny blue ribbon wrapped around polka dot white paper. Leonard holds onto the end of ribbon Joanna hands him, uncertain what he's supposed to do with it. Slowly Joanna pulls the box away creating tension on the ribbon until it begins to unravel the bow leaving Leonard with only a long string of silk. He frowns at it, no longer quite as pretty without the looping curls and folds that made the bow.

"Good job," praises Joanna. She grabs the next wrapped box on the table. "Want to help me open this next one? It's from you." She peels open a small corner to give Leonard a space to hook his finger in.

The gift isn't actually from Leonard. It has Jim's hasty writing on the note card. Jim just couldn't bear the thought of Joanna opening up presents and not having one from her father as well. Under any other circumstances, there would be one there waiting for her, probably along with a more impressively organized party. Jim just wants things to feel as normal as possible for as long as possible. He's all too familiar with not having a father around to want that for Joanna.

Leonard stretches a shaky hand towards the box. His finger hooks into the small tear Joanna is holding open causing the paper to rip slightly as his finger begins to curl. The tear runs through one of the silver unicorns, slicing it in half. Leonard yanks his hand back, staring accusingly at his finger. Joanna seems undisturbed by the destruction of the image, rather excited by it, grabbing hold of the paper and ripping it further. Leonard blows a sharp breath through clenched teeth before getting up from the table in a huff.

"It's okay," whispers Jim as Leonard skulks in the corner poking at the helium balloons and watching them float back up. He stays next to Jim for the rest of the party, bopping the balloons and petting the napkin folded animals.

Leonard drops his basket of dishes next to the wash bin with a heavy thump and wipes the sweat from his brow. He feels a little dejected staring at the pile of dishes accumulating that he has no doubt he'll be tasked with washing when this farce of a night is over. When Jim finally gets around to rescuing him, he'll never take the reclamation systems and food processors on the ship for granted again.

"Taking a break are we?"

Leonard jumps, almost knocking over a stack of plates haphazardly piled next to the wash bin. He spins around, bracing himself for some punishment that's undoubtedly coming. Instead of some disgruntled muscle or Hadeem himself, Leonard's surprised to see one of the dancers from tonight's wedding sitting cross-legged on the counter like it's her personal throne, smoking a cigarette that smells sweet like caramel.

This close Leonard can see the metallic shimmer of her low cut ruby red dress is almost transparent leaving practically nothing to the imagination. She seems young, looking to be in her early twenties, with a bright smile that seems unmarred from life in a slave house and a fair complexion that makes Leonard wonder if she isn't human. There's a boldness in her perfect posture that suggests a fearlessness not shared by the servants of the house. It's only emphasized more by her reckless consumption of the Jarleen eggs from the serving tray sitting next to her on the counter as she rubs at her ankle.

Leonard was aware of what a delicacy the eggs are before he watched the kitchen servants spend the last week preparing them for dessert tonight. He can only imagine the punishment that follows consuming the bride's requested desert on her wedding night.

"I don't think Hadeem will take too kindly to those disappearing," says Leonard. Brutality is a way of life here, one Leonard cannot stop but the small kernel of humanity he keeps wrapped around the little ember of hope he has left, won't let him turn a blind eye and not give fair warning.

The woman ooohs as she trembles mockingly. "What he going to do to me?" she asks taking another drag off her cigarette. "Hadeem won't lay a hand on me," she adds with confidence.

"In my experience, it won't be Hadeem who does the hand laying," cautions Leonard. Hadeem is much more comfortable letting his hired muscle indulge their sadistic pleasures.

"You must be new. Let me explain how it works here." She raises her hand measuring out each of her points. "It goes slave girl, Hadeem, honored guard, children, servants, that sack of oats in the corner, you." Before taking another drag, her face lights ups. Snapping her fingers she corrects, "Servants, that sack of oats, this table I'm sitting on, then you."

Leonard can't argue that point. From everything he's seen and endured here, the table probably does have more value and rights than the slaves. "At least I'm in good company," huffs Leonard dryly.

"Masters aren't allowed to punish slave girls for fear of the wrath of the gods," she says pointedly. "You my friend are not so lucky."

Leonard's aware his luck ran out awhile ago. It's as shame the rest of the slaves and servants aren't as lucky here. One of the guards steps boldly onto the kitchen, letting the door separating the kitchen from the entertainment hall slam against the wall. He looks pointedly at Leonard, barking, "Kriska tao shat a tier!"

The dancer rolls her eyes, stubbing out her cigarette in one of the eggs. She hops down on to the floor, careful to keep her full weight on the outside of her foot. "Ka-une, kriska stover nah. Go," she shouts pointing at the door; an unwavering tiny figure in the shadow of a mountain of a guard.

The guard glares at the dancer, then gives Leonard and even harsher frown before begrudgingly turning and ambling out the door. The dancer mumbles something under her breath that Leonard needs no translation to decipher as a sting of obscenities as she hoists herself back to sitting on the table. "That should give you a couple minutes break."

"You're ankles is giving you trouble?" asks Leonard nodding towards the foot in question. Her dancing was impeccable but Leonard's trained eye noticed the hidden limp as she left the stage and the way she favored it now.

She shrugs. "Price of a life time of dancing."

Leonard wipes his hands off on the wash cloth. "May I?" he asks nodding towards her foot. "I'm a federation doctor."

She looks indifferent to the suggestion but stretches her long elegant leg out so Leonard can examine her foot. "My names Leonard McCoy," he says as his warm deft fingers probe her foot.

"I am Berlin, like the city in Paris," she says proudly, careful to keep a sharp eye on everything Leonard is doing.

"Berlin is a city in Germany," corrects Leonard. "Paris is a city in France. And it's an awfully human name."

"I should hope. I'm three quarters human and a quarter orion."

Leonard's extra careful in his examine. If Berlin has the power to push around the guards and is at the top of the command chain like she suggests, then he certainly doesn't want to run afoul of her ire. Now that he knows what he's looking at, there is a soft and faded green tinge to her supple skin, hidden all the more under an elaborate almost lace looking pattern of pearled flesh running down the outside of her leg down to her ankle. He rotates the limb and wiggles her toes getting a sharp hiss as he probes the ball of her foot. "Does it hurt all the time?"

"My ankle starts to hurt after I start trying to stay off this part of my foot," she says pointing below her big toe. "The pain around there comes and goes."

"I can't be certain without actual medical equipment but I'd say it's a good chance you broke one of the bones around the ball of your foot which causes you to walk on the side of your foot, putting extra strain on your ankle," says Leonard, gently lowering her leg.

"You could fix it with medical equipment?"

"An osteo-regenerator could do it in a few minutes and wrapping the ankle for a few days would take care of that problem.

Berlin mulls over the idea. Slowly she gets off the table and heads towards a set of cupboard. She throws open the doors, peeking inside before moving to the next set and repeating the process. She throws open curtains and lists up decorative tapestries all around the kitchen until she finds an open space in the wall with none other than Akeem huddled in it. "Ka-une! Kriski chatone," she snarls.

Akeem is quick to scurry out of her hiding space, scrambling as fast as she can to disappear up the staircase to the servant's in house quarters.

"Stop," cautions Leonard. "She's just a scared kid." Leonard's been impressed with the way Akeem manages to find holes to hide in. He's come to think of her as a timid squirrel always watching from a safe distance, coming out only to nibble at food. Leonard's been able to coax her out a few times by sharing his scraps of bread. He'd hide too if he thought he could get away with it for a second.

Berlin looks doubtful. "Beware house mouse," she cautions before retrieving her bag of belongings from next to the servant's entrance.

"I'm not sure if that's a metaphor or literal," says Leonard as she hands her bag to him. He looks inside. Nestled between the various changes of clothing is an honest to god medical kit. His fingers tremble as he pulls it out; a little piece of something that's not here. As promised, Berlin is good as new in a matter of minutes, but the feeling of just being a doctor again, of being able to help lingers.

Berlin wiggles her foot, testing it out before she puts it to use doing a series of elegant dance steps. She's so graceful on her feet, it looks like she's floating as she moves around the kitchen unhindered by pain. "Lyran said you were a good doctor."

"You know Lyran?"

"Yes. This isn't the first wedding for one of Hadeem's pretty wives I've performed at."

"I thought Orions traditionally only had one wife?"

"They do. Sleeping with the help, perfectly acceptable for a Ta-I. You only have one wife and if she dies, you marry another. Lyran has been a lady's Kriskai for years."

"Then you know her son's sick. Being part Orion, you've probably heard of Harbious syndrome?" Berlin nods solemnly. "I'm pretty sure the boy has it."

"Then it's too late for him?" she asks sadly.

"Not if he receives treatment." Leonard can't do anything for the boy in his current situation but someone with influence could get the boy to a proper medical facility.

A round of applause sounds from the entertainment hall, spilling into the kitchen to remind Leonard and Berlin that the world is just outside the door. Berlin stuffs her medical kit into her bag and hefts it over her shoulder. "You should start washing those dishes before the guard comes back. And if you ever find yourself on market duty, stop by the green shop front next to the Padra noodle stand. Ask for Yetmen. She'll repay you for your help here."

Before Leonard can ask any questions Berlin's out the door back into the entertainment hall.

Jim stays after the party to help clean up alongside Christine. With Chekov volunteering to take Joanna back to Jim's apartment and one of Leonard's therapists taking him back inside for another session it's just the two of them in the now quiet yard.

"It was a nice party," says Christine; the weather warm and the atmosphere joyful. "All things considered I think Leonard handled himself well."

Jim shoves a handful of plates into the bin to take to reclamation. "Joanna had fun. Leonard…" Jim lets the thought hang there. Leonard needs to be told what to do to be comfortable anywhere which makes others, especially Jim, uncomfortable. In fact, Jim has no way of knowing if Leonard actually enjoys anything or is just a captive hostage to whatever activity they want to drag him to. He would give anything for some kind of sign that Leonard was happy since it doesn't seem like Leonard is able to tell them himself. "I want to thank you for your help. In case I haven't said it before."

Christine gives him a warm smile. "You don't have to thank me. Leonard would do it for any of us."

Jim wants to say that Leonard would do it better than any of them could, but he just nods in agreement.

"I signed Leonard up for the stable program here. Working with animals can be very therapeutic and he does seem to show some kind of interest in animals. In birds at the very least. I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's probably a great idea." It's ideas like that that make Jim glad the Enterprise was staffed with the best. Jim has read a brief description of the program when he was first looking at facilities but he never really gave a thought as to enrolling Leonard in any of them at the time. "You've been a life saver Christine."

Christine looks a little melancholy at the compliment. Her shoulders slump as she suddenly can't look Jim in the eyes.

"What is it?" asks Jim concerned.

"I was hoping to share this later but I guess the sooner you know the better." Christine takes a deep breath. She's been dreading this news ever since she received her acceptance letter. "I've been accepted to join a research team in the outer territories. They're doing multiple studies on memory and cognitive reconstruction."

"That's great, Christine," says Jim with a forced smile. It's not that he isn't happy for her, because he is. If anyone deserves the opportunity to join a front line research team, Christine's more than proved herself. It's just that, like Leonard running medical, Christine has become Jim's right hand.

"Leonard was the inspiration. If any of this research pans out, maybe one day we will be able completely repair damage like that. One day we won't have to tell a little girl that her daddy won't be the same anymore."

Jim's going to make sure of that in his own way. His own side project is putting together intelligence to hunt down those involved in the slave ring. Jim tilts his head slightly, saying sincerely, "Leonard would be proud of you." He's proud of her too but the sting of losing a close ally is a little too close right now.

Christine smiles, gently wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye.

"When do you leave?"

"In a couple of weeks. Dr M'Benga's been interviewing nurses for awhile and he's finally found someone he deems acceptable so I'm running out of reasons to put it off any longer."

"We'll be fine," assures Jim, sensing her hesitation. He doesn't know how true that statement is but Leonard isn't her responsibility. And if she can help prevent this from happening to anyone else, that's where Leonard would have expected her to be.

Jim's been noticing it for awhile. The tricks and shiny things aren't distracting Leonard as Jim leaves the facility anymore. In fact, it's getting down right difficult to extract himself from Leonard's death grip as Leonard drops to his knees and hugs Jim's legs in an effort to keep him there. Jim feels like the monster that kicked the doe eyed puppy every time he does pry himself free, locking a door between Leonard and the outside world.

Leonard's otherwise happy when Jim's visiting. He goes about his day, sometimes ignoring Jim altogether in favour of playing with Joanna… until Jim goes to leave.

"He wants to come to home with us," says Joanna, looking at Jim like he's particularly dense.

"Leonard lives here." He carefully worms his hands between Leonard's slowly spreads them apart to free the handful of pant leg Leonard latched on to. Leonard grabs another handful the second his hand is free.

Joanna crosses her arms. "Can't he come visit?"

"It's late," manages Jim through clenched teeth. This time he tries holding Leonard back by the shoulders and stepping back. He frees his left leg but Leonard just grabs at his right leg. The whole thing puts Jim off balance, his body wobbling as he tries to right himself so he doesn't fall on top of Leonard.

Leonard uses the split second distraction to wrap himself completely around Jim's leg, holding on for dear life. "Hmmmmm Rrrrrrrd."

"What if we promised he could visit another day?"

The day of a thousand questions that started this morning and hasn't let up since. All that's missing is the dreaded repetitive series of why? Jim doesn't have a satisfactory answer to give other than 'it's complicated' and 'a lot of work' that gains them nothing in Leonard's development. Leonard's safe at the facility. He has a routine and a complete staff ready and able to help in any way possible. Outside these halls is vast ocean of unknown, unfamiliar faces and unpredictable dangers. If Jim knew Leonard wanted to curl up on Jim's couch and watch vids with Joanna all day, he'd gladly acquire a day pass, hire a nurse for day support and bring Leonard to his place. If he thought Leonard's desperation was to get out and watch the sunset over the Golden Gate bridge, they'd be there. He has no idea what Leonard's goal is beyond just wanting Jim within eyesight. He's not sure Leonard would be happy visiting some place new; new things have a tendency to throw off Leonard's carefully crafted routine.

"That's not a good idea, Jo."

"Why not?"

There it is. Jim always laughed to himself when he heard parents counter every argument with 'because,' now the word is dancing on the end of his tongue. "It's just… not," he huffs frustrated, batting Leonard's hand away.

"But," protests Joanna.

Jim looks up at Joanna making sure she catches the seriousness in his eyes. It's the same look that used to send ensigns scurrying along. "Jo…" he starts, but Leonard refuses to stop clawing at his legs, frantic for something to hold on to. "Bones, knock it off!" he snaps, tired of doing battle with Leonard's eagerly grabbing hands.

Joanna reflexively takes a step back as Leonard scoots back on his butt like a dog, head bowed and cowering.

Jim takes a breath, trying to fend off the suffocating silence that fills the room like a summon demon rising to claim the souls of those that dared speak its name. He racks his brain trying to come up with some scenario that's going to sooth the frayed exposed nerves currently on messy display. With one outburst, Jim's disturbed the calm that's settled on their lives reminding everyone just how fragile their tentatively achieved balance is.

"Okay," he says softly; it echoes off the tension, amplifying the reservation in his voice, twisting and breaking it, to leave it like shattered glass against their ears. His eyes fall on Joanna's back pack. There's only one way they're leaving today without inducing a meltdown and it's if Leonard isn't conscious. "It's late. Why don't we get Leonard into bed and read him a bedtime story?"

Joanna mulls over the idea, biting her lip and scuffing her toe against the tile floor. "I guess," she agrees sullenly.

"Why don't you go ahead and pick something out and we'll meet you there," says Jim.

He waits until Joanna is out of sight down the hall before turning back to Leonard who's still cowering in a tight ball on the floor, head pressed to the tile as he makes a low whine in the back of his throat. Slowly Jim kneels down in front of Leonard. Leonard doesn't look up but trades his soft mewling for silent trembles that wrack his whole body.

"I'm sorry," says Jim, hand hovering over Leonard. He doesn't want to make things worse by touching Leonard, but a gentle comforting hand might be the reassurance Leonard needs after Jim's faux pas. He doesn't even know why he said the name, it just sort of slipped out and then there it was, hanging out in the open, stinking like rotting fish and Jim couldn't take it back. He's not even sure if Leonard's reaction is to the word or just Jim's tone, but there's something about calling the man before him Bones, that makes his stomach turn.

Bones is one of the greatest people Jim's ever known and the best friend he put in harm's way. He deserves better than to have the moniker passed onto someone else that is so completely not Bones. Jim needs to quit holding out for a miracle that there is a piece of Bones still there. It also isn't fair to Leonard for Jim to place such an expectation on him. Leonard is never going to be Bones and expecting him to be is just cruel at this point. Jim's penance is not Leonard's to pay.

Jim doesn't know why it slipped out now; he hasn't made that mistake in over a year. Except, for just a moment it felt like being back in medbay and having Leonard harping on him in that typical over protective annoying way he does when he thinks Jim's missing the point about personal safety while the rest of the team is trying to keep Jim's attention focused on the problem of saving the ship. Joanna needed his attention and Leonard was annoying him into realizing a point.

"I so sorry," he says again. This time he lets his hand fall softly onto Leonard's back. Leonard stiffens, his trembling form going eerily still, before he breathes a sigh of relief going pliant under Jim's touch. Jim starts to run his fingers through the soft downy hair at the back of Leonard's neck. "I'm sorry for everything. It should have been me on that mission," he pleads, letting his head fall against Leonard's shoulder.

Jim wants to promise he'll make it better, make up for assuming luck was always going to save his ass or that he had the determination to champion in the face of the no win scenario when everyone else was trying to tell him otherwise. The words never appear, at least not in any way that seems adequate.

"Come on. Joanna's waiting." Jim extends his hand. Leonard stares at it curiously but makes no move to take it. Jim tires again, "Let's go." He cocks his head towards the hall that will lead them to Leonard's room.

Leonard looks at the door to the reception lobby and the front door beyond it before looking back at Jim's outstretched hand even more confused. Jim's never started to leave and then stayed here with Leonard before. It feels like a trap, like the start of some cruel punishment that requires Leonard to lower his guard before his master can real enjoy Leonard's succulent agony.

Since prolonging the pending anguish never made it any easier, Leonard cautiously extends his hand, his fingers just brushing against Jim's palm before Jim closes his fingers around Leonard's. He wants to pull his hand back; his hands are important, special. His last master was always careful to not damage them too much. They're the only thing that make Leonard valuable. Does this master have other plans for Leonard that don't require his hands? Other servants have other skills that made their hands less valuable, maybe that's the type of servant this master is looking for.

Whatever is expected, it's not for Leonard to question, so he follows as his master tugs gently on his hand, guiding him back to the room he's required to live in. Leonard goes along willingly because there's no point in fighting and raising a master's ire. Failing to abide their commands is sinful.

Leonard gets into bed rather agreeably, settling in quickly. Joanna's curled up in the recliner in the corner, her feet draped over one armrest and pillow propped up on the other. Jim drags the wooden chair from the desk table in the corner and places it next to Leonard's bed. Joanna's selected some children's novel that's probably age appropriate for her but definitely way below her reading level.

Jim's never heard of it but there are cartoon animals on the front so Leonard will probably enjoy it, even if there are only a handful of black and white pictures scattered throughout the chapters. Jim's just at the part where Chester the cat is staking the family's supposed vampire bunny with an actual steak when he looks around to find his audience for this supernatural mystery tale is passed out. Leonard's snoring softly and Joanna has to be down for the count, to be able to stand her contorted position on the recliner.

Jim will deny it with his dying breath that he learned of the truce between the vegetable vampire bunny and the family's scholarly cat and detective dog before Joanna and Leonard. If anyone should suspect he read on without them, well, he did it to make sure Joanna wasn't going to wake up as Jim picked her up and carried her out of the facility.

"Well, what do you think?" asks Jim pulling his hands away from Joanna's eyes. He can feel the stress and tension start to drain away just being out there.

Joanna looks around the property from the driveway, a frown forming on her face. "This is where you're going to live?" she asks skeptical. Her mother always said not to question the decisions of adults but this place looks like it's falling apart. Anytime Clay had them move into a new home it was always nice, new and shiny. This looks like the type of place people move from.

"I'm going to fix it up first," says Jim, realizing his love for the place isn't infectious.

Joanna sighs, "You're going to be busy."

"You have to imagine it after the work's done," counters Jim with a small chuckle. "It's been awhile since I've been here so it's been missing the love and care. But over there is the best trees for climbing," says Jim pointing past the house towards the creeping edge of the surrounding forest.

Joanna puts on a pained smile.

"And that field over there has the best view for meteor showers and eclipses. And just over that hill is a creek that runs through the property. During the summer the water is low enough to swim in and during the spring when the water is high you can fish off the bridge, once I get that fixed up. I used to do it all the time," enthuses Jim.

"Did you catch anything?" she asks feigning interest. Climbing trees and fishing aren't exactly Joanna's idea of fun.

Jim has to think about it for a moment. He remembers being infatuated with tadpoles, frogs and turtles. He and Sam would race homemade boats downstream. They definitely spent hours staring at the clouds as they waited for a nibble but actually pulling something out on their lines? Jim's not even sure there's actually any fish in that stream.

Jim doesn't have time to answers as Joanna turns around and gasps. He has to look over his shoulder to see what has final lit a spark in her eye.

"There's a barn?"

"Yeah," says Jim, surprised that that's the thing that excites her. "I used to spend hours playing in the loft when I was your age.

"Does that mean you have horses?" she asks, excitement pushing at the edge of her voice. Her feet are already hurriedly carrying towards the barn before Jim can even answer.

"There's nothing in there now," replies Jim casually. "My aunt used to keep goats and horses."

Joanna pulls open the barn door. It's dark and dusty but there's absolutely a few stalls for horses near the back and riding gear still hanging on the walls. It's a far cry from the riding stables back home where she takes her jumping lessons, but horses can live here nonetheless. "Are you going to have any horses?"

Jim wasn't planning on it. Animals take work and time and Jim spends most of his with Leonard at Tranquil Acres. "I don't know, Jo. That's a lot of responsibility." Before her shoulder's slump completely, he adds, "You what this place does have? Like five bedrooms and you can pick whichever one you want and we can paint it and decorate it how you like."

"I get to have my own room here?" Joanna asks, her little face lighting up to chase away the disappointment at not having a horse.

"We can't share a room forever." And Jim's back can't take much more couch surfing on weekends. He extends his hand out towards Joanna. "Come on, let's go see which room you like the best."

"And can we paint it purple?" enthuses Joanna as she skips alongside Jim. "With pink fairy lights over the bed?"

Leonard doesn't know how it happens but he's sure his dancing friend had something to do with it. Instead of sweating the day away in the kitchen pealing vegetables and canning them, Leonard's been selected for market duty. It's even raised the curiosity of Ra'tier, who in his decades of servitude has never seen such a green acquisition be selected for such a duty.

They're stuffed in the back of a transport with an endless amount of shipping containers. They hold a good portion of the canned vegetables Leonard and his fellow captives have been slaving away to harvest, peel and cut and can. Just looking at the spoils of their labour makes Leonard tired. Each jar securely packaged in those crates represents hours and days away from his family and the life he was ripped from.

The mood is sombre in the back of the transport as the temperature steadily climbs with the rising of the sun. Every once in awhile, the warm stagnant air moves enough to bring the sweet smell of the endless grasslands they're passing through rippling around the confined space. It would almost remind Leonard of home during the hot summer days as a child if it weren't for the shackles around his ankles tying him to the truck.

Apprehension curdles in Leonard's gut. At least at the compound he knows what to expect; even if it is horrible. Going to market is a whole new experience complete with all the trappings and pitfalls of punishment for failure to comply with rules Leonard doesn't even know. He can't help but feel like he's on death's chariot to a new level of hell.

The transport slows to a stop, the world exploding in a cacophony of chatter and discourse in so many unfamiliar languages, Leonard can't pick out one as the door to the storage compartment opens. The streets are packed with people and lined with vender stands hacking a variety of wares. The smell is equally overpowering, filling his nostrils with every kind of smell possible. It makes his stomach growl in desperation for any morsel the rich aroma could provide. Leonard's barely subsisting on the scraps the guards decide to throw in their slave's cells; he'd be willing to eat anything if it meant a full belly and not having to share what little he's given with his cellmates.

Leonard stumbles out into the unforgiving sunlight, his muscles aching from being crammed in there for so long. He fights to stay on his feet as the feeling returns to his left foot; a cascading series of sharp pins and needles poking him from the inside out as blood flow returns to the abused limb. Slowly he falls in step behind his fellow prisoners, blindly following their lead as they start dragging the crates off the transport and stacking them behind an empty vendor's booth.

Akeem and another one of the house servants Leonard's seen working in the kitchen begin to open the crates and line the jars on the table for display. Like mosquitoes swarming a fresh drop of blood, the hoards wandering the market place begin to circle the booth examining the merchandise and bartering sales.

"Come, the guards do not like to be kept waiting," says Ra'tier, as he notices Leonard pausing to watch the swarm of patrons.

"Yeah," sighs Leonard. He wonders if the people would be so quick to buy if they knew the means by which the goods were produced. He can feel the twinge in his back start to act up by the eighth crate. It's something that started the first week after sleeping on the hard dirt and hay in the cell he calls home, and flares up with the more physically demanding chores. A quick second in medical would have everything realigned and Leonard pain free.

The sweat is dripping from Leonard's forehead, matting his bangs together in unkempt clumps. All he wants more than anything is to curl up in a shade strewn hammock and sip on a mint julep but pausing, even for a moment, is met with the harsh blunt end of a phaser rifle or a vicious backhand aided by the leather bound metal spikes the guards like to wrap around their hands. He's sure Berlin saw this assignment as a favour, but Leonard's not sure back breaking labour is the favour it's cracked out to be.

"So what's to stop us from just leaving?" asks Leonard as he watches the guards push the last crate off the transport and drive off down one of the back alleys. There isn't anyone to actually supervise that the work gets done or that the small contingent selected for market duty actually engage in selling the twenty-five crates worth of jarred vegetables and hand sewn clothing. The market square is alarmingly free of armed guards or authority figures. It is however crowded with people of varying races and origins. "Or stop us from asking any of these people for help or to alert the authorities for us?" he adds. Escape seems so easy right now, it leaves Leonard feeling a little uneasy.

Ra'tier raises his eyebrow in the all too familiar Vulcan expression of mild concern of human naivety. "The grasslands we drove through extend around the whole complex for eight hundred forty-three point six kilometres. The temperature out there is an average of forty-five degrees Celsius. With no resources or shelter at your disposal there is little concern of slaves making the journey. Even if you made it to one of the outlier communities closer to the market complex, they would not take you in, for fear of reprisal from the slave ring houses," explains Ra'tier as he dutifully takes the jars out of one of the crates and lines them up on the table at their booth. "Everyone here is either a slave or servant of a master's house, supportive of the slave network, or from one of the many communities that depend upon the houses for goods and services and fear retribution should they cross the masters."

It sounds like all the t's are crossed and I's dotted. "So we're birds in a gilded cage right now," huffs Leonard. Jim hasn't shown up yet so he obviously needs a little help finding them. Leonard just needs an opportunity to make that happen.

"It would appear so."

Leonard's painfully aware how long the days on this planet are by the time the scorching sun crawls high enough to reach mid day. There isn't enough shade at their booth and Leonard can already feel the sting of his reddening skin. He tries to help with sales but the language barrier makes it impossible and salesmanship was never his forte; he's a doctor, not a snake oil salesman. He fetches more jars from crates when Ra'tier asks but otherwise he's pretty useless here. His eyes begin to wander around the market square and all the people and vendors until they land on a green shop front next to a Padra noodle stand just around the corner.

If he's smart, Leonard will stay at the booth, perform his duty as best he can and be there ready when the guards return to take them home. Except it's not home and his duty as a Starfleet officer is to escape. He doubts escape lives behind that green store front but Berlin promised repayment, and Leonard isn't in a position to refuse any kind of help that might be offered.

"That list is items that need to be bought here?" asks Leonard pointing to the scrap of parchment sitting on the self next to the ledger.

"Yes," says Ra'tier. "While we are here, we are to sell the house's goods and acquire those we cannot forge ourselves."

Leonard glances at the noodle stand and back to the list. "Anyone can go purchase these items?"

Ra'teir nods, looking at Leonard curiously.

"I'm not exactly any help here," says Leonard with a shrug.

Ra'tier picks up the pencil tucked in the ledger and writes the Standard translation of all the items on the list beside them. He hands the list over to Leonard, not letting go when Leonard reaches for it. "I suggest you acquire all the items and return before the guards," he warns before releasing the list.

Leonard nods, reading the list over.

He gets the first side of the list done, arranging to have most of the items delivered to their booth with the handful of phrases Ra'tier has been teaching him. The sellers mostly look at Leonard confused but after a few tries, they manage to sort things out. It takes the first half of the list for Leonard to summon the courage to detour from his task. He stands there staring at the shop for a few minutes trying to talk himself into either going in or walking away. It's an herbal medicine shop that serves wellness food; Leonard recognizes one of the signs on the door. At the very least maybe he can scrounge up some supplies to help the other servants at the house.

The door chimes open with a little bell hanging above it and all eyes turn to Leonard as he hesitantly steps inside. The sales girls quickly go back to tending to their customers, measuring out herbs and liquids and wrapping them in brown paper and small vials. One of the clerks approaches Leonard rambling something off in Brillian. Leonard recognizes the language but for the life of him can't remember a single phrase except for 'how can I assist you?' which is oddly, not what he's being asked. "Ummm," he hums, rethinking his decision to come here.

The clerk looks at him expectantly, just shy of tapping her foot.

"Berlin sent me," says Leonard, feeling stupid as the words come out. "I'm Leonard McCoy."

The clerk turns and yells something at another one of the sales women who has an air of being in charge. She in turn yells back pointing to a door at the back of the store. They continue discussing something for a few minutes; Leonard catching Berlin's name a couple times in the conversation. Finally the sales clerk points to the door at the back, shooing Leonard forward with her other hand.

Leonard has an ominous feeling, but he moves forward. The sales clerk moves on to help another customer leaving Leonard to walk the hallway alone. The door creaks open revealing a flight of worn wooden stairs that descend the long narrow corridor. He swallows, looking back towards the shop door before committing to this rabbit hole and heading down the stairs.

There's another door at the bottom, a big heavy door with black paint cracking and peeling off of it. It's a little harder to push this door open, but it slowly opens. The heads of the four occupants of the basement room all snap in Leonard's direction. There's a bunch of files, maps and shipping manifests displayed on the projection table they were looking at in the middle of the room which are quickly removed and scurried away by one of the women.

One in a black cloak begins to yell at both Leonard and the other women in the room. It takes a second for Leonard to place her, but it's the same woman who was at the birth of Hadeem's son and who whisked the enfant away after his mother's death. Before Leonard can say anything, Berlin is there, escorting Leonard out of the room, quick to shut the door behind them.

"Berlin?" asks Leonard, surprised. He trips over his feet several times as she herds him up the stairs.

"If it isn't my doctor," she says, careful to lock the door behind her. She sheppards Leonard all the way to the top. Not in a way that's harsh or menacing but one that leaves no room for argument as to whether Leonard has intruded on something he shouldn't.

"Wasn't she…" starts Leonard once they get to the top.

"You should forget you ever saw the La'te here," interrupts Berlin. There's a note in her voice that makes the threat evident in her otherwise melodic voice.

Before Leonard can say anything else, one of the clerks comes over and pushes a covered basket into Leonard's hands. She leaves without saying a word to Leonard but bows to Berlin. Berlin nods in return. "What is it?" ask Leonard, a little hesitant to look under the cloth.

"A doctor needs proper equipment to treat patients," she says, lifting the cloth away to reveal a Harbious treatment kit.

"How did you…" says Leonard, his voice trailing off in awe. His fingers ghost over the kit; something so basic back on the Enterprise, yet so impossible and desperately needed in this hell. He's still feeling the weight of his last failure. It'd be nice to finally get a win out here.

"This world bends for the slave girls. You're going to tell your guards it's a gift for Astatine or they'll never let you keep it. From there she'll give it Lyran who will see that it finds its way back into your hands back at the compound so you can save the boy."

A thousand words die in Leonard's throat. He doesn't have the means to articulate the relief and hope this basket provides. It's a drop of kindness in an eternal expanse of desert; and it's not even for him. "Thank you." It seems so inadequate but he manages to get it out.

Berlin links her arm in his. "It's self serving, I assure," she replies as they walk out of the shop. She walks with him down the street, never unlinking their arms even as she takes Leonard's supply list and accompanies him in his search.

"You said the world bends for you?" he asks, not sure what kind of answer he's looking for. Out of everyone tied into this horrific system, surely the ones titled slave girl would face the most hardships, not claim to reap the most rewards.

"It bends to all slave girls. Legend has it that after Sandrit created the seven colonies she was left exhausted and wandering the waste lands of Ba'tra Helmo. Alone and unable to defend herself one of the tribes found her and took her in as a trophy. They were cruel and harsh except for one. He tended to her wounds and kept her nourished; showed her kindness," says Berlin with a reverie in her eyes Leonard is envious of. "Sandrit was vengeful to those that thought they could take advantage of her. Drought fell upon the lands killing the crops and making the animals scarce. The people were starving and on the verge of death. However Sandrit's heart ached that she was causing harm to the one that showed her kindness and repaid that kindness by performing her dance and calling forth the waters to replenish the land saving the tribe. When they learned of her powers the tribe demanded she dance for them again when the droughts returned the next year but she refused to dance for anyone but the one man that showed her benevolence. The people made the one who showed her kindness tribe leader, wielding the power to ask for her favour to help save his people. After Sandrit was strong enough to return to the celestial heavens she taught her chosen daughters her dances so they too could protect those that showed them love and devotion. So you see, the slave girl, which is a messy translation of the actual title, do their master's bidding but they choose the master. If the master is unkind to the slave girl she will refuse to dance. She must be treasured by her master in order to bestow her blessings and the gifts of Sandrit on the house."

"That's all fine and dandy for you but what about everyone else? What about people like me that are just out there living our lives when your slavers decide to round us up like cattle and sell up to the highest bidder? If you wield that kind of power why don't you put an end to it?" Leonard asks, because while it's not Berlin's fault, it needs to be said.

Berlin sighs, slowing her gait, which causes Leonard to slow as well. "Best intentions go to hell in a golden basket."

"I think you mean either the road to hell is paved with good intentions or it went to hell in a hand basket," Leonard corrects.

"Yes," she agrees, absently. "It started as a beautiful tradition. Many would choose this life, either as a slave girl if they were worthy enough, a disciple if they were devoted enough, a honour guardsman if they were strong enough or simply as a servant if they sought the virtues and stability of being part of a communion. The masters found away to run successful houses and turn a profit and now they're just like every other monster out there in the universe." There's a sadness in her face that runs through Leonard's soul.

"There are lots of slavers out there in the universe that commit these sins for many reasons. It's a shame it's our own people that are tainting our culture with such atrocities. Those practices are not supported by the Kriska," she adds, pulling Leonard along at a more normal pace. "While we may be protected here the rest of the universe sees us as objects to exploit. It's why we never venture far from our homes without the La'ts's blessing, the reason I haven't made it to Berlin and Paris yet."

"Hopefully one day I can take you," replies Leonard and it's not just lip service. He'd actually like to show Berlin Earth, not only because it would mean he's rescued but he'd be able to repay her the kindness she's shown him.

The people on the street seem to part like the fabled red sea for the pair as they walk along the market square. Leonard isn't foolish enough to believe it has anything to do with his presence. There's something about Berlin's presence that sets her apart from the commoners and slaves swarming the streets like ants. It's not just her obviously expensive clothes the shimmer in the light; her teal dress cut perfectly to accentuate her curves as it cascades down her long elegant body ending in tassels that swirl and float around her knees. She is a diamond in a drab sea ordinary.

"Is that why you ladies were studying transport manifests and schedules in a hidden room?" he asks hesitantly. If he was a gambling man, he'd say they were engaging in a little smuggling of their own.

Berlin smiles. "Seeing things one shouldn't is a very dangerous line of work, McCoy."

The answer to his problems could be entangled in his arm right now. Leonard doesn't dare to hope. "Are you getting people in or out?"

Ducking her head slightly, to let her hair flop forward enough to hid her mouth from the many eyes on the streets, she says, "It's dangerous to have Federation captives in our ranks."

"So out."

Berlin is quiet for a moment. "I can get you out."

Leonard's forgotten how to breathe never mind how to form words or coherent thoughts. He wants to scream 'yes, god, yes!' and kiss the ground at her feet; instead he moves along side her like a zombie. Hope has been so absent from his life, it hurts to give into it.

Reality comes crashing back as two guards step in front of the pair, blocking their path like giant boulders. As Leonard looks up the pair parts, allowing Hadeem to boldly stroll between them with a wicked smile on his face as he looks Leonard up and down. "Do you know what happens to slaves that wander?" he asks coldly.

It's rhetorical of course, whatever punishment Hadeem decides to dole out for any imagined crime will play out regardless if Leonard knows his trespass or not. He wishes he could feel fear or panic but this place robs people of every emotion besides acceptance and cold indifference.

"Honourable master," says Berlin, pulling her arm from Leonard's and going to her knees. She gets back on her feet but keeps her head bowed as she adds, "forgive his tardiness but surely you understand the need for him to escort me through the market. Sandrit would never want anything to happen to one of her beloved disciples, especially in a place that's ripe with the appetites of the commoners. You've forged a very kind and generous slave that reflects honourably on you and your house."

Hadeem scowls, his eyes passing over both Berlin and Leonard like he can chip away at their skin and expose the hidden treachery underneath. After a moment he lifts her chin with his finger and predatory smile. "Something so pretty shouldn't be left alone to tempt the weak. I'm surprised the La'te hasn't found you a suitable master yet. The gods wouldn't make something so magnificent if they didn't intend for it to be worshipped." His finger caresses her jaw, trailing down the soft flesh of her neck before he runs his hand down her shoulder until her hand is in his.

"Alas, you have a wife Ta-I, so the rest of us must wait until we can settle for another," purrs Berlin, quick to free her hand from his grip. "I thank you for your slave's service and send a gift to your Kriska to show my gratitude," she adds nodding to the basket in Leonard's hand, "but I must take my leave. It would be shameful to be late for prayer."

Hadeem leers after her until Berlin is out of sight. Then with a curt nod, he signals his brutes to none too gently escort Leonard back to their sales booth.

Leonard returns to their booth with a spiteful shove and a split lip but otherwise unmarred. He pulls down his rumpled shirt as he straightens, careful to keep his glare directed anywhere but at the guards. Ra'tier gives Leonard a once over glance but says nothing as he continues to pick up the remaining jars on the table, carefully packing them back into the crates. Leonard silently falls into line, helping with the clean up. He's sure his punishment for today's deviation is far from over but there's no need to add fuel to that particular fire by not completing his work. To his surprise, Hadeem never peeks in the basket he was so quick to relieve Leonard of.

The servants never exude joy, but Leonard can feel the cloud of darkness that settles over everyone weighing morale down with heavy chains of sadness and fear now that Hadeem is in sight. Hadeem stands out of ear shot, fanning himself as he speaks with two other Orions who are dressed with a similar air of authority and masochism.

"What happens with all the stuff that doesn't sell?" asks Leonard, trying to distract himself from the burning hatred turning within him, taunting him to turn that fire into righteous violence. God help him, he's starting to understand what goes through Jim's head before the kid gives into his wild exploits with reckless abandon.

Ra'tier doesn't pause in his task but is careful to keep his voice low. "They will be taken to the next market and sold there."

"So we get to do this all over again?"

"The next market is on Denvor Six. Since it is a port frequently visited by Starfleet officer, we will not be selected to work," replies Ra'tier pointedly. "Only those loyal to the house will go to publicly open markets."

Leonard knows all about the markets on Denvor Six; he's been there with Jim four times aboard the Enterprise. He's bought trinkets and gifts for his daughter from there. Never once did he know that some poor bastard like him was being used as slave labour for some of those goods.

So close but so far. Leonard doubts he's going to be able to convince anyone he's a dedicated slave before the next market. If only he could get a chance at alerting someone. He'd just need a minute with a Starfleet officer and from there the fiery fury of Starfleet would rain down upon this place. He wouldn't even need to speak, he could just write down his name with the request it get to Captain Kirk.

Leonard pauses, staring at a jar of pickled mezapin. A message in a bottle. That market was packed every time he went; Starfleet officers leaving with armfuls of goods. It's almost a guarantee a Federation citizen would be the one to buy the jar. He could double or triple his chances by putting a note in more than one jar. Berlin said she could get him out but nothing about his fellow crewmates or his friends. This could be a chance to rescue them all.

As usual, Akeem says nothing as Leonard slowly slips the page from the ledger into his pocket but Ra'tier does cock his head to the side. The Vulcan also says nothing, but Leonard's seen that tired look before that says he won't interfere in human stupidity but is unsurprised by it. If anything Ra'tier strategically places himself between Hadeem's line of vision and Leonard.

Leonard's quick to scribble his message on the water proof paper, rolling it tightly and placing the three copies in the center of three jars. He hastily reties the ribbon around the jar lids and places the jars in different crates.

"We don't leave our people behind," whispers Leonard, going back and grabbing more jars. He's never needed that sentiment to be true more than now.

Most of Jim's stuff is still in boxes strewn around the house but it's already starting to feel like home. Since Joanna didn't really have anything of her own at Jim's place that didn't travel back and forth with her, the pair spent several days shopping for things like bedding, furniture and decorations for her room. Most of her stuff hasn't arrived yet beyond the basics. Jim made sure to set her bedroom up first. It's still a work in progress but there's a bed and a dresser ready to go.

Jim's has a few plates and pans tucked away in the kitchen but mostly resorts to using the replicator to cook. There's a table buried somewhere under all the boxes and junk not packed away when his aunt passed that Jim hasn't even begun to sort out. It's fine, he mostly eats standing over the sink as he rushes out the door in the morning or he and Joanna eat in the living room. The couch is serving triple duty of dining room table, home office and entertainment area.

The outside repairs are going even slower but it's not like there's a deadline. Jim takes projects one at a time, starting with the biggest safety concerns closest to the house and working out in a spiral pattern. So far he's repaired the deck off the kitchen, the front and back door and the loose boards on the walkway from the driveway. It's a very small pile of checkmarks on his to do list.

Tonight is the first official night he and Joanna are staying in Jim's new home. Jim's already been living here for about two months but it was hardly ready to have Joanna stay and with the new school year starting, she's been mostly in Atlanta. Jim gets one four day weekend a month plus school holidays.

The place feels homier now that Joanna is here. It's the little things like an extra pair of shoes at the front door and the artwork tacked on the fridge. The art work is mostly Leonard's blue with green and pink smudges but it was Joanna that framed and put them around the house.

"Are you ready?" yells Jim as he grabs the popcorn bowl from the replicator.

"Yeah, it's all loaded," Joanna calls back from the living room.

Jim stuffs a handful of popcorn in his mouth before heading to the living room. "What are we watching tonight?" he mumbles with a full mouth.

"Home vids circa age two," replies Joanna proudly, grabbing her own handful of popcorn as Jim hands her the bowl before he hops over the back of the couch to sit next to her.

Joanna found the vids in a box of Leonard's things Jim had at his apartment. Jim knows she's played the vid Leonard left for her to the point that it's practically worn out, so it makes sense that watching old home vids would be comforting. Jim enjoys seeing them too. He's watched his personal vid a couple dozen time too, just to hear Leonard's voice. Part of Jim wants to hand over all the vid messages Leonard left for Joanna now, just to see her smile and give her a piece of her dad back. He won't though; he hasn't even peaked at them himself.

"Hit it," declares Jim.

The vid compilation starts playing with a family outing at the park and a young pig-tailed Joanna giggling her way down the slide into her father's open arms. Next is Joanna on her mother's lap on the swings with Leonard behind the camera cheering her on. "There's my little humming bird," he coos. "Look how high you can fly." There's a brief shot of Joanna playing in the sandbox until Leonard fumbles with the camera in an attempt to stop the sand eating Joanna's attempting. It's a day out with a loving family before the cracks in their carefully crafted home started to show.

Jim had forgotten Leonard called Joanna his humming bird. Hearing it now and how fondly Leonard says it, Jim wonders how he could have forgotten. He questions what else he's let slip through the cracks of his memory, things Joanna will come to treasure as she gets older. He idly wonders if his father would have given him a creative nickname had things worked out differently for the Kirk family or if Jim's the most creative thing George would have come up with.

There's a birthday party with friends and family present as Joanna blows out the candles on her unicorn birthday cake. Jim doesn't know who most of the people in the vid are but he does recognize Leonard's mother and father and the beginning of Mr McCoy's inability to hide his illness any longer. Leonard once said he had a ton of cousins, most of which went into the medical field in some capacity, that he was really tight with growing up. Jim's not sure what happened but since Leonard joined Starfleet, the only person besides Joanna and by that nature, Jocelyn, that he had any kind of contact with was his mother until her passing about a year before Leonard was taken. If anything would cause them to reach out, Jim would have thought it would be this.

Jim spends more time watching Joanna than the actual vid. There's something magical about the way she lights up as she watches them. It's not that Joanna doesn't smile, she actually a pretty happy kid, but there's something different about her smile when she's watching old vids of her father.

"Birdie fly," cheers Joanna in a little teal bird costume complete with shimmering wings. She holds her arms out as she runs around the living room.

"You're the best humming bird," agrees Leonard following Joanna's flight path around the coffee table.

"Do we have everything?" calls Jocelyn from somewhere out of frame. The vid view changes with a soft muffle as Leonard passes it over to Jocelyn.

He holds up a bright orange pumpkin shaped bucket. "Trick-or-treat bucket, check." Scooping Joanna up with one arm he holds her against his side. She giggles, flapping her arms. "One humming bird, check. But what about Joanna?" he asks, turning around to survey the living room. "We can't go trick-or-treating without her."

"I'm birdie," she protests.

"Oh, so you are. Are you ready?"

"Let go."

"Let's go," agrees Leonard before the vid scene changes to five toddler ballerinas wobbling and twirling their way onto a stage.

The timing with the music is nonexistent and not a single dancer is in sync with another but they dance with all the confidence in the world even if they only know three steps and a turn. Jim's no dance expert or ballet patron and he may be partial in this scenario, but Joanna seems to be the best of the bunch. He can only imagine how good she is with eight more years under her belt and that McCoy diligence and devotion to back up her lessons.

By the time they reach Christmas and a wide-eyed Joanna getting to meet Santa during a society ball, the popcorn bowl's empty and Joanna's failing miserably at hiding her yawns.

"Bedtime," says Jim as he puts the popcorn bowl on the table and shakes Joanna's foot to wake her up a bit.

She yawns. "But I'm not tired," she protests, as her eyes droop heavily.

Jim chuckles. "Yeah I can see that. But maybe you could humour me?"

Joanna gets to her feet sleepily. "Alright." She shuffles towards the stairs before slowly making her way up. "Good night, Uncle Jim," she calls from the top before stepping into her room and closing the door.

Jim glances around the living room. It's too early for him to go to bed but his mind is too distracted trying to catalogue every detail he can remember about Leonard to focus on anything engaging like watching TV. He grabs the empty bowl and takes into the kitchen. Joanna's going to want breakfast in the morning so he decides to tackle some of the boxes in there.

Any box not kitchen related gets relocated to another room for another time. He finds a box of plates and glasses, carefully unwrapping them and lining them up next to the sink to be washed. He keeps coming back to the tender moment of Leonard scooping Joanna up in that bird costume. He can't quite put his finger on why that particular moment seems so important but it's eating at him now. Maybe he should record all the stories he has of him and Leonard so the detail will all be there in the future should Joanna ever ask about them.

Jim's drying a glass to put in the cupboard next to the fridge when his gaze falls on the pictures Joanna's stuck to it. There's thee- one Joanna did of her, Leonard and Jim and two of Leonard's drawings. Jim stares at the pink and teal blobs, rubbing the glass in his hands with the terry drying cloth.

The glass falls from Jim's lax fingers smashing across the floor sending glass sprawling across the hardwood like snow blowing across a field. Jim stands there, not moving, eyes still fixed on the drawling- on the teal and pink blobs that are pear shaped against a sky blue back ground. "Humming bird," mumbles Jim.

Slowly the blobs morph into crude outlines of birds if it was a two year old scribbling the birds. Bird shapes on a sky background. "Hmmmm Rddddd," runs though Jim's head. He lets the dish towel drop to the floor and walks out of the kitchen to his office to make a call.

It's about ten o'clock when Ben Sulu arrives. Jim's half way out the door before Ben's even hit the porch. "Thanks for coming on such short notice," says Jim, pulling on his jacket. "I didn't know who else to call. Everyone I know is on the Enterprise and she's half way to Una Four right now," he adds apologetically.

"It's alright. I know," agrees Ben. "My sister happens to live a couple floors below us so it was not problem to get someone to watch Demora. I know how hard it can be to get a sitter in an emergency."

"I shouldn't be too long. I just have to go see Leonard," says Jim. He doesn't stop his dash to the car. "Joanna's asleep. Thanks again."

Ben waits until Jim drives away before heading inside.

Jim moves through the lobby of Tranquil Acres with a singular focus. It's dark with minimal lighting for the nurses to work but still lets the patients sleep. There's a calming silence at the facility that's comforting like a warm hug.

"Captain, visiting hours ended hours ago," protests the night receptionist as Jim blows past the station without even slowing down to sign in. She gets up from her chair to follow after him.

Jim waves her off. "I just need to see Leonard for a minute. I'll be in and out without any problems," he says over his shoulder, flashing her his winning smile.

The receptionist frowns but gradually sits back down at her desk.

Jim only hesitates once he gets to Leonard's door. The soft glow of the nightlight is enough that he can see Leonard's asleep, and why wouldn't he be at this hour. The question is burning in Jim's chest so intensely it might burn right through his flesh. But now, watching Leonard sleeping peacefully, he wonders if he's prepared for the answer and can he live with whatever it is?

The door hisses open as Jim takes a tentative step inside. The picture is heavy in his hand as it hangs by his side.

Leonard's eyes snap open as the door slides open. He doesn't move a muscle, just lays there completely rigid at this odd turn of events. Usually the people leave him alone once it's lights out until the day starts again with the prompting to eat all the weird foods passing for breakfast.

"Leonard?"

The name sets a fire along every nerve in Leonard's body. He knows that voice so completely and with it comes the steady hand of his owner. Maybe Leonard has finally done something right that his master would see fit to visit him now when usually he leaves Leonard languish in limbo alone. Or maybe it's a test, to see if Leonard is following the rules laid out before him by the other servants that scurry around this place?

Deciding that it doesn't matter if his master places a hand on him in pride or anger, Leonard quickly slides out from under the covers, his knees hitting the floor instantly as he crawls over to his master's feet. He rests his cheek against his master's boot, revelling in the feeling that finally someone in charge is here to give Leonard purpose.

Jim lets out a long sigh. His free hand drops down to scratch at the top of Leonard's still untamed mop. After a few seconds, he steps away, pulling out the desk chair in the corner and taking a seat.

Leonard's quick to slide across the floor after Jim, blinking owlishly as the lights come on to normal brightness. This time he stays kneeling instead of a full bow in preparation of Jim's commands.

Jim looks at the picture in his hands. Doubt begins to creep in. Maybe the connection is all in his head, wishful thinking on Jim's part. He holds the picture out so Leonard can see it. He points to the teal and pink blob. "Humming birds."

"Hmmmmm Rdddd," hums Leonard.

"Do you…" Jim bites his lip. Quietly he says, "You remember don't you?"

Leonard whines, the sound sticking in his throat. He cocks his head to the side and stares at Jim like he's acting stranger than usual.

"You remember Joanna," says Jim, voice small and fragile. Because he must. Of all the things in the universe to try and draw, Leonard's been drawing teal humming birds, not an Orion and a human. Tears start to well in Jim's eyes. He points to the scribbled birds again. "Joanna?"

"Hmmm Rddd," Leonard hums happily.

Jim grabs the photo frame from Leonard's side table. Joanna programed it to display various photos of the three of them from both before Leonard was taken and some more recent ones. It's currently displaying a candid shot of the three of them enjoying a cultural day at the academy. Joanna's grown a bit since that picture was taken but it's close enough. He points to the picture. "Joanna. Humming bird."

Leonard runs his finger over the picture. They hover over Joanna for just a moment before Leonard violently turns his head away. "Mnnnnnn," he growls, sinking back on his haunches.

"She's safe," whispers Jim, "humming bird is safe." Because out of this whole mess, it's the only thing Jim's managed to do.

Jim purposely picks a day Joanna will be in Atlanta to bring Leonard out to the house. It's already going to be complicated enough, he doesn't need an overly cheerful wide-eyed hopeful, yet moody teenager, underfoot if it all goes wrong. He's so worried, he spends the whole night tossing and turning.

He's unsure what Leonard is looking for beyond the doors of the facility. Thai's belief is Leonard just believes his place is near Jim, to be at the ready to carry out instruction and tasks, and not because there's anything specific he's heading towards. Jim hopes it's something more but in his gut he feels it's just a general aversion to being left behind. Not that Jim can blame him- all this started because Leonard was left behind on that ship, left behind from rescue.

Still, he's willing to entertain the concept, whatever Leonard's motives. He promised Leonard some kind of life and if they can successfully do activities beyond the walls of the facility then it's definitely a better quality of life for all of them. At least Jim hopes it's a better quality of life for Leonard and not just a selfish desire to make himself feel better about the situation. Nothing shatters a soul faster than having to walk away as Leonard begs to follow them past the doors of Tranquil Acres.

Today's Leonard's shot but when presented with the opportunity, Leonard's a little hesitant to follow Jim out the front door of Tranquil Acres. He pauses at each set of doors, requiring reassurance from Jim that he's actually allowed to proceed into this new territory. Jim wouldn't go so far as to say Leonard is confident in his space at the facility but he's definitely comfortable, and it hurts a little to watch that assurance disappear as Leonard's shoulders start to hunch and his movements become more hesitant the further away from familiar he gets.

Jim has to actually take him by the hand though to get him into the car at all. It kills him that Leonard approaches everything new like it's a trap; an excuse to justify inflicting pain on such a caring and devoted soul. And worse, that Leonard actually seems to think he should have that trap befall him. Jim doesn't chance using the transporter. Leonard was leery and bitter about the technology before. Disappearing from one place and appearing someplace completely new and foreign could be more than Leonard's capable of processing. It seems like added stress that today doesn't need. Jim hires a car. It means an hour of travel in a rather confined space, but it's less invasive than beaming.

Leonard refuses to sit on the seat, choosing instead to sit on the floor in the back of the car at Jim's feet. He leans heavily against Jim's leg, his head resting on Jim's knee, never looking out the windows as the world passes by. He folds himself into the most compact form possible to avoid taking up any more space than necessary in an already small space.

As much as Jim tires to break Leonard of treating Jim like he's his owner, it still seems to be the default setting; clutching to barbaric practices like a comfort blanket. It drives Jim nuts, making him feel dirty and useless. It's the most brutal reminder of everything Leonard's lost as a person and Jim just wants to scream. Dr Leonard McCoy crawled around on the dirt for no one and yet this Leonard happily believes it's his natural place.

Leonard's routine is changed enough by today's outing so they don't need to fight over Leonard's habit of falling into old practices on top of stress that's already mounting in Leonard. Jim idly wonders if perhaps Leonard isn't experiencing a little motion sickness, even with the dampeners on. Leonard's extra quiet and keeps his eyes on the floor instead of watching the scenery pass by the window, which should be interesting since it's new and not the walls or carefully sculpted gardens of the facility. He's even a little shaky stepping out of the car once they arrive at the house.

"Well, this is my home now," says Jim as Leonard cautiously looks around with his eyes, not daring to actually step away from Jim to explore. It's pleasantly warm out, the sweet spot between the last whispers of summer and the impending chill of fall. Jim gives a very brief tour of the house, showing off the living room, kitchen and Joanna's bedroom with Leonard trailing obediently behind him. Leonard listens intently as Jim gives the tour but Jim can tell it doesn't interest him. None of their medical assessments have been able to adequately confirm if Leonard's impairments have impacted his ability to completely comprehend what people are saying to him or if it's just his ability to properly communicate back. Jim chooses to believe there's still a piece of his friend that understands all the things Jim rambles on about. Stepping out onto the patio to take advantage of the weather seems to light a spark in Leonard's eyes.

Jim tries not laugh at the look of fear that passes briefly across Leonard's face as he sits next to Jim on the porch swing when it starts to gently sway back and forth. It takes a few moments for Leonard to relax but he eventually goes with it. They swing for awhile, enjoying the smell of the fruit and pine trees and the sound of the creek in the distance. The back patio is the only space outside that Jim's finished. Inside still has a long to do list too, but it's coming along faster than the outdoor repairs. This space just seemed important though.

Jim reaches down and grabs a bag of bird seed he strategically left out. He takes a handful and places it in Leonard's hand as he lifts Leonard's arm out. Jim's been working on taming the birds around the farmhouse for just this occasion. He has bird baths and feeders set up all around the patio and along the path to the creek so at the very least they can bird watch on the patio. He's even had some success getting the crows and blue birds to eat right out of his hand.

Jim waits, holding Leonard's hand and outstretched arm steady. The avian community doesn't disappoint. A couple blue birds perch on the patio rails, whistling and tilting their heads like they're weighing their options with this new stranger in oasis. It's the crow, a big fat thing which waddles more than walks, that tests the waters. Slowly it creeps forward, eyes fixed on Leonard who stares back in fascination. Most of the birds around the facility, besides the ducks, are Robins, Woodpeckers and an assortment of yellow and brown birds. This is possibly Leonard's first crow.

"Bird," says Jim.

"Rrrrrd," repeats Leonard in awe.

The crow squawks and flaps its wings causing Leonard to flinch slightly. The loud booming call of the crow is in direct contrast to the melodic tweets and songs of their normal bird patrons. It hops forward, cocking its head to the side. A seed rolls out from Leonard's hand as he pulls back slightly, dropping towards the ground. Like a black streak the crow is quick to dive for it, snatching and swallowing it before it even comes close to the ground.

Leonard holds his breath as the large wings expand, propelling the black bird up and onto his arm. His instinct is to yank his arm back, but Jim's steady reassuring hand keeps his arm in place. As the bird slowly starts to eat the seeds in his hand, ever careful to keep one eye on Leonard, Leonard starts to breathe again. Hand empty and the crow satisfied, it flies away, circling the house and settling on a high branch that parallels the patio. Leonard waves bye to the bird like Joanna's been showing him.

Jim grabs another handful of seeds and refills Leonard's hand. This time he doesn't help keep Leonard's army steady. It trembles a little but not enough to dissuade the blue birds that seize their opportunity to get at the food. Three land on Leonard, happily munching away.

The trembling's improved a lot in the last year. Leonard hasn't had much success eating liquids like soups yet but he can keep a glass from spilling and most solid foods on a fork. His coloring is even mostly in the lines. Jim ignores the fact that it's not the skilful art of surgical hands because if he doesn't see these small gains as giant victories, he'll cry.

Jim's sure they've fed half the bird population in the state by the time he heads into the kitchen to get them some juice and a few snacks of their own. He's busy scrolling through the replicator options when he hears Leonard come in after him. "All your feathered friends fed?" he asks turning around.

"Rrrrrd," says Leonard holding his arms out so Jim can see the crow captured within his hands.

Jim's a little taken aback by Leonard standing in the kitchen with a crow cupped in his hands. He's not holding it tightly or maliciously but it's clear the bird is trapped in Leonard grip. "No birds in the house," says Jim. "It needs to go back out and fly. Birds need to be free." Jim flaps his hands in a half-hearted attempt to mime flying in case Leonard doesn't grasp what needs to happen here.

Leonard shakes his head, pulling the bird close to his chest.

Tranquil Acres has a stable full of farm animals to help the patients with various therapies and social skills. Christine enrolled Leonard into the program before she transferred to a research post. Leonard's been caring for a baby lamb. This however is not the same thing. Unlike the sweet little domesticated fluff ball back at the facility, this is a wild animal and a lot more fragile. "That's not a pet. It needs to go free," Jim insists.

Leonard shakes his head again but opens his hands slightly. The bird doesn't fly away; it just sits there leaning against Leonard's thumb. It looks rather scrawny and tattered, certainly nothing like the first crow they fed. Of all the birds, Leonard's brought the sickly one into the house.

It's then that Jim notices the bum leg. Trust Leonard to be the one to find the one bird on the property with a broken leg. "Okay," says Jim. Clearly setting it free isn't an option. All he needs is to go outside one morning and find the poor thing dead because it couldn't care for itself with that leg. "Let's get him settled in the bathroom." Jim doesn't exactly need a bird loose in the house, where it could possibly hurt itself more or shit on their things. He consults the computer on how to treat a broken leg on a bird, but decides it's better suited to a professional. He gets Leonard to sit with the bird in the bathroom while he makes a call to the local vet. Hopefully it is just a broken leg that needs to be splinted and not something more serious in which the vet will have to euthanize the poor thing. He doubts that will go over well with Leonard.

The vet's thorough and clearly skilled in dealing with young children who are upset about their injured pets because she navigates Leonard brilliantly. Leonard sits quietly on the couch keeping a weathered eye on his feathered friend as the vet scans the bird, with a bright smile, infinite patience and an easy to digest explanation of everything she does to the bird. Even the crow itself is docile in her hands. She gets Leonard to hold the bandage roll as she splints the broken leg after running an osteoregenerator over it and makes sure he gets a good view as she ties the bandage off.

"There we go," the vet says, lifting her hand next to Leonard's so the crow can step from her hand to his. "He should be good as new in five days." She holds up five fingers to emphasise her diagnosis.

"Do we have to bring him in to get the bandages removed or anything else?" asks Jim.

"No you can cut them off yourself if you're careful. Birds heal rather quickly especially with intervention. He could probably be set free in three days but five will make sure the leg is good and strong." She gently strokes the crows head with her thumb. "Some extra food wouldn't hurt. The little guy looks a little undernourished."

"I'm quite sure we can fatten him up," replies Jim, watching Leonard already ply his new friend with bird seed. "Thank you, Doctor." Jim escorts her out, trying to come up with some plan to keep the damn thing from flying around the house. He heads to the basement to rummage through the decades of junk piled up down there and isn't disappointed. It's not a bird cage per say; the heavy thing he lugs up belonged to some type of lizard a relative had brought back to Earth, but it's close enough that'll do the trick.

Jim throws some papers down with a bowl of water and sprinkles a few pieces of bread in the bottom, leaving the door open. It doesn't take long for the crow to find its way inside. Jim tries not to feel too guilty when Leonard scowls as he shuts the cage door. "He can't be loose in the house," counters Jim.

Leonard's scowl deepens.

"I promise he's fine in there. And when he's better we'll free him outside."

Leonard huffs, but turns his gaze back to the bird, poking his fingers through the metal bars to drop more bird seed inside.

"He needs a name," tries Jim. He can tell by the tense line of Leonard's shoulders, he's not happy with Jim or the current location of his new feathered friend. Jim confesses Leonard and the bird might be able to relate to one another in a way Jim can't begin to understand. "A name," he repeats before placing his hand on his chest. "Jim," he emphasises before placing his hand on Leonard's chest. "Leonard."

"Rrrrrrd."

"No, I know it's a bird, but he needs a name." Jim racks his brain for something simple Leonard will be able to wrap his tongue and mind around.

"Onna rrrrrd."

"We can't call the bird Joanna. We already have a Joanna. How about Tweet?"

Leonard scrunches up his nose. "Boo rrrrrd."

Jim sighs. "He's black but yes, let's call him Boo. He's kind of Halloween themed, I guess. And it's bird, b, b, b-ird," corrects Jim.

"Rrrrrd, Boo rrrrd," counters Leonard, side-eying Jim.

"If you can say blue and Boo then you can say the b in bird. I've heard you do it," protests Jim, exacerbated. Jim can't figure out Leonard's aversion to certain letters. L seems to be public enemy number one and he doesn't think Leonard's incorporated a J yet. It's not like the bastardized language the Orion slaves use doesn't have those sounds in it or that there's some sort of rule about dropping certain sounds in words, Leonard just refuses to say some of them. The speech therapist says to keep trying, that he may not remember how to form some of the sounds on his tongue. Jim thinks some of it is straight out stubbornness, but against what?

There aren't high hopes Leonard's going to master a very extensive vocabulary anyways; his support team will be please if he manages a handful of words and phrases that will get him through the day. Jim's pretty sure they're right in that regard since it's taken almost three years to get Leonard to be this vocal. Leonard still prefers to be silent and most of his communication occurs in the form of grunts, huffs and glares, which Jim has become fluent in. It's why he suspect there's far more comprehension going on on Leonard's part, than he's capable of expressing. It also gives credence to Jim's theory that these little games are some sort of payback for all the times he was a pain in Leonard's ass.

"The word is bird. Bird is the word," repeats Jim, emphasising the b sound.

"Boo," snaps Leonard, wrapping his arms around the cage and dragging it out to the patio.

The bird puts a wrench in Jim's pilot run of taking Leonard out of the facility. There's a total meltdown when it comes time for Leonard to leave. Leonard won't leave without Boo and Jim knows the team at Tranquil Acres will kill him if he tries to smuggle the damn bird in. Jim's not too thrilled about having a pet for the next few days but he promises Leonard he'll take excellent care of it. It can't be that hard; he just has to put food and water in a cage. He even promises to bring Leonard back first thing in the morning tomorrow; which was not part of the original plan.

It's not an ideal solution since Leonard has a carefully coordinated schedule of activities and therapy sessions, but they'll just have to manage somehow. After an hour of coaxing, Leonard finally follows Jim out of the house and into the waiting car- but he's not happy about it. He absolutely does not sit next to Jim on the ride back nor does he look at Jim when Jim speaks.

Jim feels like a god damn heel. Even if Leonard is pissed off at him, it's still progress; progress at having a day out and certainly in Leonard's comfort level. Even a couple of months ago Leonard wouldn't be so bold as to show his anger or frustration like this without fear of retribution. Jim promises himself to keep that perspective the next time Leonard pushes his buttons.

The meltdown regains momentum once they're back at the facility, in full stereo sound and dramatic action. Dinner never stood a chance as Leonard relocates it to the floor in a stunning feat of coordination and distance. As Jim's busy scraping mash-potatoes off the walls a member of the support staff kindly suggests Jim goes home and calls it a night and that they can handle things from here. It's sound advice since Jim's the focal point of Leonard's frustration and too close to the situation.

Jim's night's not over when he gets home. He spends three hours chasing the crow around the house in an attempt to get it back in the cage Leonard so thoughtful left open when they left. Jim's pretty sure that was intentional. Especially when he finds little stashes of bird seed spread around the house.

Leonard's really enthusiastic about returning to the farm house, far more than he was the first time. According to the nurses, he's been waiting by the door since six that morning for Jim's return. Jim doesn't even have to ask if Leonard wants to come with him as he's practically stampeded over as Leonard heads to the car. He doesn't sit anywhere near Jim again during the ride to the house but he doesn't glare at Jim the whole way today.

Leonard beelines for the bird cage the second they pull in the driveway; the tension draining from his shoulders as the crow caws and hops along the branch in the cage. Immediately, he grabs hold of the cage and takes it outside on the patio, dropping bird seed through the bars for his feathered friend. Apparently he doesn't believe Jim did a good enough job.

"I told you Boo was fine," says Jim, sauntering out to the deck.

Leonard side eyes Jim but hums happily stroking Boo's head gently with his finger. He spends the rest of the day happily mucking around on the patio feeding the birds and poking at the bugs while Jim camps out in the lounge chair making the final revisions on his report for Starfleet command. It's the kind of easy existence Jim can get used to.

Leonard's reaction after the five days of caring for Boo is not what Jim expected. Leonard is antsy, a ball of anxious energy bouncing around behind Jim as Jim carefully cuts off the bandages. He hovers over Jim's shoulder as Jim gently runs his finger over the leg to assess how it healed. When it comes time to take Boo outside, Leonard practically pushes Jim out of the way of the open cage door, snatching Boo in his hands and frantically shaking his head.

"He's alright now. He can go back outside," says Jim.

Leonard just hugs the bird tighter to his chest.

The entire time Boo has been with them, Leonard has made a point of getting the cage and the bird as close to outside and freedom as possible. Now that it's time to say goodbye, Leonard refuses to let the bird go.

"He has to go home now," stresses Jim standing in the door way to the patio.

Leonard takes a step back closer to the kitchen.

"He's a wild bird, Leonard. He doesn't belong in that cage." Jim points to the empty cage, shaking his head before closing the cage door. Leonard looks at the bird and scowls at the cage but will not take a step towards going outside. "I promise he'll be okay."

Jim tried everything to coax Leonard outside. The bird for its part doesn't seem disturbed by any of it. It just nestles into Leonard's hands leaning into the gentle stroking Leonard is happy to dole out. Their stalemate lasts over an hour before Jim reminds Leonard the birdseed is stored outside and Boo is probably hungry.

Leonard shuffles outside carefully staying out of arm's length of Jim. He stands on the corner of the patio, tight and rigid as he watches Jim get the bag of seed and place little piles along the railing.

Jim huffs in frustration. Leonard was all set to keep the bird out of the cage before but now doesn't want to let go of the bird. Jim points to the other birds that have swooped in for their chance at some seeds. "See, these birds are free. They're happy. Boo has to go free. He needs to fly."

"Rrrrrrd," hums Leonard looking sadly at the crow in his hands.

"Birds fly free," reiterates Jim.

"Rrrrrrd fee?" Leonard asks with tears starting to accumulate at the corner of his eyes.

"Yes. Free."

Leonard looks glumly at Boo then at the other birds sitting on the railing. He lets out a long sigh, moving like molasses towards the railing. Gently, with lingering fingers, he places the bird on the railing. It caws at him, turning its head around as it spreads out its wings. With a couple of flaps, Boo takes off going straight up to the highest branch on the largest tree. It sits there for a few minutes staring back at Leonard before finally taking flight into the wide open sky, circling the house twice before disappearing. "Boo fee," says Leonard, small and broken.

He waves a little but barely lifts his wrist from his side to do it, before stalking back into the house. Jim trails in after him. Leonard sits in front of the cage opening and closing the door for the rest of the day.

Something in Jim's gut says it's not worth it to try and take Leonard back to Tranquil Acres. It's a long vid chat with Leonard's primary nurse, but Jim manages to clear the overnight stay. At nine o'clock he takes Leonard upstairs to one of the spare rooms. It's pretty sparse, furnished with nothing more than on old dresser and bed that had been left in the room from when his Aunt lived there. Jim hasn't gotten around to working on the room yet, prioritizing his and Joanna's rooms along with the main living areas. Simple maybe best though because there isn't anything Leonard can get into trouble with.

Jim tucks Leonard into bed and grabs a book from Joanna's room to read to Leonard. Jim's pretty sure it's a novel she has to read for school because Joanna usually has better taste in books and this one has to be the most boring thing Jim's ever had to force himself to read- and he's read some pretty dry Starfleet reports. It's all the same to Leonard, because it does the trick, giving Jim a chance to sneak out of the spare room once Leonard has fallen asleep.

Jim putters around the house trying to do chores as quietly as possible before settling down to write his reports and catch up on the news. He pulls the plug at eleven and heads up to his bedroom, checking on Leonard as he goes. He can't risk staying up too late, not knowing when Leonard is going wake up. And he doesn't want Leonard unsupervised in the morning.

Jim's just about to drift off when he hears a creak in the floor followed by the unmistakable motion of someone climbing into bed. There's no one beside Jim but his foot bumps into a solid mass at the foot of the bed. "Computer, lights," sighs Jim. He blinks a few times, adjusting to the light before sitting up. "Leonard," calls Jim gently.

Leonard doesn't move. He just stays curled up at the foot of the bed like a dog.

"Come on, you have your own bed to sleep in," says Jim. His feet hit the floor as he gently shakes Leonard's shoulder.

Leonard sheepishly follows Jim back to his own room; feet shuffling and head down. He doesn't protest as Jim pulls the covers back and he climbs back into bed.

Jim stands in the door way after he turns out the lights for a few minutes, waiting to see if Leonard is going to get up. Slowly he heads back to bed, getting reacquainted with his soft comforter and pillows. He finally rolls over and finds that sweet perfect spot to drift off in, when the tell tale creak calls out again followed by the cautious dip in the mattress. Jim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Computer, lights."

Leonard is back at the foot of the bed. This time he brought his pillow with him.

"Nope, you have your own bed," reminds Jim, going through the same motions from before. It's not that Jim even really cares if Leonard bunks with him albeit beside him rather than the foot of the bed, but routine is important in Leonard's care and part of that routine is Leonard staying in his own bed in his own room. He gets Leonard back in bed and sets the lights to a nightlight setting in case the issue is Leonard sleeping in a dark unfamiliar space, and goes back to bed.

Jim lies awake for awhile, waiting. After half an hour and no Leonard, he decides it's safe to try and go to sleep. Jim's only asleep for twenty minutes before the creaky floorboard gives Leonard away. Jim lies there waiting for Leonard to climb up on the mattress but it doesn't happen. "Computer, lights." He peers at the foot of the bed, but it's empty. Jim frowns. Maybe he dreamed hearing the floorboard?

He figures he might as well check on Leonard since he's up. He throws his feet over the edge of the bed and abruptly steps on Leonard who is curled up with his blanket on the floor. Jim rolls his eyes. Points for the new tactic, but Jim isn't going to let his friend sleep on the floor.

"No, you have a nice bed in your room." He pulls Leonard up to his feet and escorts him back to the spare bed room. The game continues for two more hours before Jim relents, figuring they need sleep most of all. It takes a little convincing, but he manages to get Leonard to sleep on the left side of the bed.

They're both zombies in the morning. Jim has to work to eat his toast and coffee and Leonard can barely manage his oat and raspberry muffin and bowl of cereal. Jim spends the next part of their morning picking cheerio's out of Leonard's hair and sweeping them up from all parts of the kitchen. There's more on Leonard and the floor than Leonard could have possibly eaten and how they made it as far as the fridge when Leonard never got up from the table is a feat itself.

Jim's heart skips a beat as he turns around from the sink and Leonard's chair is empty. He didn't hear Leonard get up. He pokes his head in the living room before heading out to the deck. Leonard isn't out there. "Leonard," Jim calls before rushing back inside. He searches the main floor before heading upstairs. All the rooms are empty. He checks closets and crawl spaces in case Leonard's decided to play hide and seek. He even checks the basement which he locks when Leonard is there. The front door is still locked and the log shows not exit or entry since their arrival.

Jim turned his back for a minute and suddenly a place that didn't seem that big or dangerous has swallowed Leonard up. Leonard's just as haggard as Jim from their night so he can't be moving all that fast. Jim throws on his boots and bursts out the patio door. The house is surrounded by fields and orchards but there's a cobblestone path from the patio heading down to the creek. It's autumn so the water is neither abundantly high nor moving fast but that's not a comfort when Leonard can drown himself in a couple of inches. Then there's the tools and equipment in the barn that Leonard could injure himself on too. And who knows what Leonard could do if he gets lost in the forest that borders the property.

Jim leaps down the patio steps, missing several as he lands on the stone pathway. "Leonard!" he bellows, a little frantic. His head snaps around in all directions but all he can see is green trees, potential danger and no Leonard.

A crow squawks around the other side of the house pulling Jim's attention. He runs towards it, pushing his way through the raspberry and blueberry bushes. As he gets through the shrubbery that's grown up to form a natural barrier between the backyard and front of the property he sees Leonard sitting in the grass with none other than Boo perched in front of him. The bird is happily hopping about as Leonard lays out bird seed in patterns on the grass.

Relief knocks Jim off his feet; he lands on his butt next to the bushes. Leonard glances in his direction but quickly turns his attention back to Boo. Jim wants to scream and yell but nothing comes out. What would be point? Jim might feel better, might be able to expend some of the terror and panic that had a stranglehold on him, but can Leonard even understand what Jim is feeling and why? In the end, Jim's supposed to be in charge, he's supposed to be the one to keep Leonard safe and he failed this morning. Yes Leonard is alright this time but what about next time?

Any thoughts of having Leonard live at the house, even part time, dance out of Jim's head.

"You seem like you're light years away," whispers Uhura so as not to interrupt the story Sulu's telling.

"Huh? Oh," sighs Jim as he watches Uhura stab the tomato on his plate and pop it in her mouth as proof he hasn't been paying attention. "Just been a long week." It's been an emotional roller coaster of a week. Jim never really imagined Leonard living with him. To be fair he never dreamed Joanna would be under his roof either, even if it is part time, yet somehow that arrangement just feels right. Even with the whole rigmarole of trying to get Leonard to sleep in his own room, Jim woke up that morning feeling like the pieces of the universe had fallen into place. The concept of Leonard being able to live with him one day didn't seem that farfetched. That dream died a quick yet cruel death when Leonard wandered off.

Jim's been riding a wave of disappointment ever since, which is weird because he didn't know he'd even wanted Leonard to be able to live with him in the first place. He would have kept his dark raincloud to himself but the Enterprise is only in Earth space dock for a brief resupply before heading out again and Jim can't justify blowing off his friends.

"How is Dr McCoy fairing?" asks Spock.

A small smile curls the very edge of Jim's lips. Everyone else has adjusted to calling McCoy, Leonard, both because it's easier to create distance between the person they knew and who Leonard is now and because it's easier on Leonard to use only one name. For most it was easy to drop the doctor title, except Spock, who still insists, out of respect for Leonard, to refer to his former colleague as Doctor. Spock and Leonard may have been oil and water, but it warms Jim's heart to think about the respect and admiration, even if they wouldn't openly show it, the pair had for one another.

It's a loaded question Jim's uncertain how to answer. He wants to boast that Leonard's got his colors nailed down and is fairly confident they've got the numbers one through five sorted out. Leonard's even advanced to the twenty-five piece puzzles this month. Then there's their eighteen day streak of Leonard not bowing to people that's been their longest yet. Jim proud of all those accomplishments but sitting in the middle of the mess hall at Starfleet command surrounded by highly accomplished officers of which Leonard used to be among, it doesn't feel like enough or anything someone not there for the daily grind could even begin to appreciate. They showered Leonard with accolades when he performed a revolutionary surgery technique under the dire straits of a red alert due to attacking vessels and an important delegate bleeding out on the table, but equally as challenging was the day Leonard managed to drink a glass of water without spilling it.

"He's making progress," says Jim behind a smile that's strained by the failure of earlier this week. "It's just slow going some times."

"Aye. You look like you could use a night out. You should join me and the lads tonight," says Scotty with an enthusiastic grin.

"You and the lads?" asks Jim, genuinely curious as to whom the engineer has roped into being his drinking buddies now that he and Leonard aren't on the Enterprise.

"Me, Sulu and the kid have been painting the ports red." Scotty tips his head towards Chekov.

Jim has no doubt Sulu could probably hold his own against Scotty's antics and while he knows Chekov can hold his liquor, Scotty is still out of the young navigator's league. Judging by the slight blush and Chekov's sudden interest in the ground, Jim suspects Chekov's learned this fact the hard way but hasn't found an escape plan from going out tonight.

"What's actually bothering you?" asks Uhura.

"I lost Leonard," confesses Jim. "I brought him out to the house and turned my back for a second and he wandered off. I found him and he was fine but he could have been hurt or worse. I was just starting to get used to the idea that maybe he could come out to the house and stay over when Joanna is there because it has to be better for both of them to have their time feel together feel more normal than hanging out at what is essentially a hospital. But if I can't take my eyes off him for a second it's not going to work."

"Maybe he's just not ready yet," suggests Sulu.

"Or ye need a sheep dog to herd him away from danger," adds Scotty with a chuckle.

"He's not livestock, Scotty," chastises Jim, fondly.

"But it's exactly what you need," injects Chekov, lighting up. All eyes turn to Chekov and before Jim can say anything he continues, "My Tetushka trains service dogs. They can perform many functions to aid their charges. What you need is a nanny dog to gently herd Leonard back to designated areas or alert you when he is in danger."

"Leonard does respond to animals," says Jim, mulling the idea over in his head.

"I can take you to meet her tonight to discuss what you would need and how she can have one of her dogs help," offers the Ensign.

Jim bites his lip, trying not to get his hopes up. He can think of a million ways this could go wrong but can't stop himself from saying, "Yes. I'd be thrilled if you could set that meeting up with your Aunt."

Joanna's thirteenth birthday is rather a low key affair on Jim's part. Jocelyn takes her and a couple friends to a fancy resort on El Don Eight for a week to celebrate. The following week Joanna has a recital and a show jumping tournament in New York so being thirteen is old hat by the time she has a free weekend to stay with Jim.

It works out, giving Jim enough time to fix up the barn. The elderly neighbour mentioned stepping back from his riding business Jim offered to take two horses off his hands. It seems like a fitting present and it's not like Joanna doesn't have a horse back home in Atlanta. If Jim's being honest, he's always been fond of riding. Riding is something he and Joanna can do together and caring for the horses is something Joanna and Leonard can do together.

Joanna is ecstatic when Jim slides open the barn door to reveal the newest residents, giving Jim the tightest and longest hug he's ever received in his life. They spend the afternoon exploring the trails that run throughout the property. She's a good rider. Jim has no idea how she even got into the sport because he can't for the life of him imagine Leonard ever riding a horse.

Jim listens quietly as she indulges him in an endless string of updates about everything that's been going on at school and home with Jocelyn. He doesn't bring up the dog or the specialized care training he's been doing at the house when she's in Atlanta. Nor does he breathe a word about the lofty goal of Leonard living with him permanently. There are still so many steps between now and then and Jim doesn't want to see that look of betrayal on Joanna's face should it not work out in the end.

It's nice to spend a day not worrying about Starfleet reports, his current special task force with Thai to track down key players in the Orion slave factions and Leonard. He feels rather guilty about the last one; shame burning in his cheeks. He'd do anything for his friend but Leonard does come with an all consuming twenty-four hour need that is exhausting sometimes. He's also avoiding a perfectly wrapped yellow box with a blue ribbon that's sitting on the living room coffee table though he's less sure why he has apprehension about it.

Jim makes dinner from scratch, a dish he remembers Leonard making for the first night of every one of Joanna's visits, and it's mostly edible. Joanna seems to enjoy it more than Jim does, going back for seconds. Jim smiles tightly, trying ignore the yellow box in the corner of his eye as he eats. He's not nearly domesticated enough to even try making a birthday cake so he replicates them both sundaes. His stomach ties itself into knots with each attempt at a mouthful. He's running out of distractions.

"Is that for me?" asks Joanna with impish glee as she notices the wrapped box sitting on the coffee table.

She's halfway there before Jim can even reply, "Yeah," in a quiet, restrained voice.

She flops onto the couch with an enthusiastic bounce, waiting for Jim to join her.

Jim takes a deep breath as he slides out of his chair. Apprehension wraps around him slowing his steps like he's wading through a tub of molasses. There's no real reason he should feel anyway about this gift, except it kind of disturbs the easy flow their lives have fallen into. Their lives fall into two categories: before and now. Jim would give anything to go back to before but they've finally found their rhythm in the now and this box holds an arrow, notched and ready to fly, leaving an exigent trail of the past in its wake.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Uncle Jim. The horses were more than enough."

"I didn't," replies Jim, dull and flat compared to her jubilation. He reaches out and gently passes her the box.

Her frown at his denial of the gift fades away as she reads the attached tag. "Oh," she says quietly, all traces of excitement carefully slipping behind a tight neutral mask.

Jim's not sure if it's a good reaction or not. It's definitely sobering. "Your dad made it for you and asked me to give it to you on your thirteenth birthday," explains Jim as she cautiously lifts the lid off the box to expose the drive with the vid message for just this occasion. It's the first one besides the initial vid that Jim's had to hand out. Jim has no idea what the message is; the thought of watching such a private message not meant for him feels icky. It's a message from Leonard for his daughter- it can't be anything bad, yet handing it over fills Jim with unease.

The unease has nothing to do with Leonard's ring being missing, though he does feel bad about not being able to give it to Joanna as requested. Jim searched high and low for it. He tore through all the boxes of Leonard's effects both the stuff packed up from his quarters aboard the Enterprise and the few belongings Leonard had when he was rescued. Leonard never took the thing off so it was too much to hope that it had been left on the Enterprise that day. He even had Scotty and Chekov go over the entire ship with a fine-tooth comb. It was probably stolen when Leonard was captured; just another thing taken away from both Leonard and Joanna.

"We can watch, if you want," offers Jim. He has no clue what the protocol for something like this is.

Joanna chews on her bottom lip. "I think I'll go watch it in my room," she says getting off the couch, drive in hand. She turns as she reaches the bottom step. "If that's okay?" she asks hesitantly.

Jim ignores the pang of disappointment at being excluded. He absolutely won't entertain the thought of inadequacy at Joanna bailing on their day together for the parent who's shadow Jim lives in. "Yeah, sure. Of course," he says with forced cheer.

Joanna gives him a small smile, hesitating briefly before finally heading up stairs.

The door closes and Jim feels oddly alone. It's like a crack has formed in their smooth carefully crafted routine of playing family. He dwells on it for a minute before dismissing the idea. Joanna is not his daughter- she's Leonard's. Jim knows that, one hundred percent, completely. The thought of replacing Leonard, of erasing him from Joanna's picture perfect family keeps Jim awake at night and yet knowing that Joanna is about to have a new private, albeit one-sided conversation with Leonard, the Leonard they've been mourning for the last few years, is a bucket of cold water being dumped on Jim.

Eventually he distracts himself by doing the dishes. He tries not to keep tabs on the time. The message can only be a couple of minutes at most, which has elapses ten times over. He stands staring at the stairs, debating whether or not he should go up. What would he even say? Is there anything to even worry about? Joanna could have watched it once and started on her homework, or just gone to bed. She could be obsessively watching, trying to commit every line and detail of Leonard's face to memory, memorizing every word spoken until his voice is once again as familiar as her own. Perhaps she too is apprehensive, sitting on the edge of the pink bedspread debating whether to watch it at all.

Jim eventually gives up, opting to watch some news instead of fretting over something that may not even need worry. It's not like he can do anything to make this better or worse for her. He's through his third news report when Joanna saunters down stairs. She's neither happy nor sad, and Jim sits there silently, unsure if anything needs to be said.

She sits silently on the opposite side of the couch watching the news as about as intently as Jim tried to. She keeps her hands folded in her lap and her shoulders slightly slumped.

Jim wants to ask, wants to know, what it was like to hear Leonard again, because even though it's a recording it's something new, like having him back for a brief and shiny moment. Instead they sit there, the silence expanding between then like a red sun. As the silence stretches, Joanna subtly scoots closer towards Jim, closing the distance between them until she's cuddled up next to him with her head tucked against his side. She still doesn't say anything, just stares blankly at the viewing screen faking passing interest in the daily news report.

It gets late and Jim shuts off the view screen. At this point they've listened to the same stories told by about twelve different reporters now and even the most accomplished actor couldn't fake interest in it. Neither moves.

"I miss him," Joanna whispers.

"I miss him too," replies Jim, warping his arms around Joanna.

Leonard starts spending three nights at Jim's place and two at Tranquil Acres to acclimate him to the upcoming change. He still spends most of the day at the facility attending his development and therapy sessions but goes home with Jim for dinner and to sleep on the designated nights.

It's time that's mostly filled with sleeping but Jim's still nervous about it and from what he can tell, Leonard is confused by the change. Jim and Joanna spent a weekend making Leonard's room look as closely to his room at the facility as possible and safety proofing the rest of the house as best they could. Mostly Jim just put a lock on most of the doors requiring voice conformation to open them, especially the front and back doors. It makes the place feel a bit like a prison, but Leonard's new service dog is still six weeks away from being ready. Assuming, everything works out between Leonard, the dog and actually living at the house.

The first few nights go rather smoothly. Jim makes dinner while he gets Leonard to color at the kitchen table. Leonard's less forgiving of Jim's lack of culinary skills than Joanna's been, unafraid to decorate the floor with anything that doesn't meet his tastes. They fight about the sonic shower but eventually Jim convinces him to have one. The rest of the evening is spent sitting out on the deck watching Boo and his feathered friends until they turn in for the night making way for the fireflies and other twilight bugs. Bed is actually the easy part with a half hour devoted to reading and lights out. Jim only has to take Leonard back to his room twice per night.

The second stretch of nights doesn't go as well. Leonard won't eat dinner at all; Jim wearing most of it this time instead of the floor. The weather isn't cooperating either, keeping them inside. Leonard sits petulantly at the back door refusing to move or engage in any other activities no matter how enticing Jim makes the coloring book or puzzles look. He whines "Boo," on repeat until Jim's ready to pull out his hair. Instead of listening to his bed time story, Leonard opts for trying to steal the book out of Jim's hands and when that doesn't work, repeatedly kicks off the blankets and throws the pillows around. Jim spends so much time trying to put Leonard back to sleep in his own bed that he falls asleep sitting at Leonard's door.

Morning is a whole new kind of hectic. Jim runs around like a headless chicken, chasing Leonard as he tries to get them both ready to leave for the day. He doesn't have any energy but Leonard seems to have no shortage of it and the franticness of a late start is sucking what little energy Jim has.

Jim's not sure if it's a game for Leonard to distract Jim in another room so he can run in and hide Jim's uniform shirt or if it's some kind of protest on Leonard's part. He feels a little guilty having to resort to locking his bedroom door so he can get dressed at all and even worse when he comes down stairs and Leonard resorts to sitting on the floor, refusing to move and going boneless when Jim tries to get him on his feet.

Jim tires not to scream, stuffing his frustration down internally instead when Leonard gladly goes with his therapist with no protest or hesitation at drop off. He just happily saunters after her leaving Jim standing there looking frazzled dishevelled. Jim's only half an hour late for his meeting and glared at for the first ten minutes of said meeting.

"It's going well?" asks Thai facetiously, waking Jim up after nodding off during their meeting.

Jim looks around blearily. "What? What happened to Commander Wist?"

Thai sits on the edge of the opposite table, arms crossed. "He left about ten minutes ago after giving the mission the green light."

"He didn't notice…" says Jim around a large yawn.

"Oh, he noticed. But he's too thrilled about the proposition to deny it because the officer proposing it fell asleep during the brief. Besides, I gave a very compelling speech to seal the deal." Thai makes a show of rubbing his knuckles across his shirt and blowing on them.

Jim groans, hanging his head. It's not the impression he wanted to make, especially if heading the task force is on the line. Preparing reports and briefs gives Jim all the time in the world to take care of Leonard, but it's long since become monotonous. Directing the task force to hunt down key players in the Orion slave trade would not only be meaningful work but something a little more stimulating and worth of Jim's talents. Then there's also the satisfaction of bringing Leonard's captors to justice. "You gave a heartfelt speech? At least I've convinced you it will work," sighs Jim. It took some convincing, but Jim managed to persuade Thai to help with the logistics of identifying and tracking down potential targets. That help, however has always come with an abundance of reluctance as to the success of such a venture, even with Thai's inside information.

"Not remotely," Thai replies with a shrug. "You're talking about an institution that's been around since the dawn of Orion civilization. Even if you get rid of a few key players, new ones will take their place."

"That's the spirit," whispers Jim. He's tired of everyone embracing the idea that life is a no win scenario.

"So, your little experiment at home is obviously going well," says Thai with a snicker.

"Yesterday didn't go well and today didn't start any better. But when I dropped him off with his therapist the tantrum stopped. I don't know what I'm doing wrong," says Jim miserably.

"What I'm hearing is he only misbehaves under your supervision?" says Thai as he starts to clean up from the presentation.

Jim pauses for a moment. He assumed Leonard's reactions were pretty standard but now that he's actually thinking about it, he hasn't heard the nurses or therapists comment on any unproductive behaviour in a while. Leonard's as good as gold pressed latinum when Joanna is leading him through activities.

"It's because you don't discipline him," supplies Thai when Jim doesn't reply.

Jim visibly winces at the word. He's made it very clear he has no desire to ever be held in the same light as the sadists that did this to Leonard in the first place. Given everything Leonard's endured, a little slack and understanding seems the least Jim can try and offer as they both attempt to navigate life. "I'm not going to punish him for having a bad day," states Jim, forcefully.

"Discipline isn't a dirty word. Nor am I suggesting you take him out back and beat him. But rules with clear consequences aren't going to break him," Thai suggests.

"I think he's had enough consequences for one lifetime. And he's not doing anything dangerous or overly destructive, he's just… expressing himself." Which is exactly what Jim was hoping Leonard would become comfortable enough to do. Granted he envisioned that expression looking a little different, but it's what Jim was hoping to foster.

Thai looks pensive for a moment. "When my parents took me in after I was rescued, they thought they were doing the right thing by not putting any rules or restrictions on me. It wasn't. It was confusing and in some ways more frightening. Back there I may have been beaten for not bowing properly or not being able to carry my weight in water from the well or speaking without permission, but I knew what the consequence was for those things. Not having rules meant never knowing when the other shoe was going to drop or where the lines I couldn't cross were. I acted out, I rebelled, I made life hell for everyone around me. Whether you like the idea or not, Leonard looks at you as his master now and you have to establish some sort of rules and consequences so he feels safe."

Besides the irony of Jim being the one to establish order when it was always Leonard chasing after Jim to make him behave, he can't ignore that pit in his gut that the edge between rules and making Leonard feel like he's still a slave is far too close. "I don't think I can."

"You were Captain of a whole ship. I can't imagine you ran it all loosey-goosey."

"Loosey-goosey," mouths Jim looking rather perplexed. "What century did you learn standard in?"

"I speak ten languages fluently and fragments of eight more. Loosey-goosey may not be timely but it's apt," bites back Thai. "You can't tell me you're letting his teenage daughter run wild either."

Jim gets the starship analogy. He managed that just fine without becoming a dictator. Though to be fair, Starfleet set most of the rules there, Jim just had to observe them. With Joanna there's never been a real conversation about rules, she just does what she's supposed to. "Joanna's a good kid. She doesn't need to be shackled by rules."

Thai just laughs. Not an evil maniacal laugh, but a definite self-satisfied one. "Establish authority now, Jim or those two will eat you alive." The smile vanishes from his face as he adds, "Leonard's not the first person they've done this too. You look at him and see what he's no longer able to do. And that's all very true but you're missing what he can do. We come from a world where you can't be more trouble than you're worth so they wouldn't have done this if they couldn't still mold him into something. You can curve the unwanted behaviour without being a tyrant and still understand that we all have bad days."

Jim purses his lips. There's just something about the whole concept that makes him feel icky. Jim had tones of rules growing up and an endless string of people trying to enforce them and he just rebelled harder and in more creative ways. Jim's main goal was to make Leonard feel like he was safe, that Jim would protect him from all the horrors and tortures he survived. He was so busy trying not to be like the people they rescued Leonard from he hadn't given much thought to laying the ground work to control on the bad days. At first Jim was glad Leonard felt he could act out and be difficult in situations where he can't voice his displeasure, but their current pattern is unsustainable. "It's not like I can ground him and send him to bed without dinner or take away his favourite activity," counters Jim sullenly.

"Why not?"

"Because his medical team says routine is important and he I can't start denying him his therapy sessions which is pretty much all he has going for him except spending time with Joanna and that's not anywhere near being on the table," cautions Jim.

"You'll think of something. But I suggest sooner is better."

Jim reads the directions on his PADD again. He's not sure he follows them all but it can't be all that hard. There's something about the way he set up the puzzle pieces that doesn't look quite right but it can't matter all that much. The point of this puzzle is to help support encouraging Leonard to use his dominant hand and build strength in it so it doesn't shake as bad. Over the last year, the tremors that rock Leonard's hands have lessened so they don't impede function but more often than not he refuses to use his right hand. "Alright, Leonard it's puzzle time," calls Jim.

He can hear Joanna giggle in the living room but sounds that indicate anyone is coming to join him in the dining room. He waits a minute then heads into the living room.

Joanna and Leonard are sitting on the floor near the edge of the coffee table. Leonard has his elbows on the table as he hold his hands about a foot apart intently starring at Joanna as she wraps a bright length of string around his fingers. After threading the string in a crisscross pattern between his hands she carefully reaches over, pulling the sting away using two sets of cross points to transfer the string to her hands. Leonard watches fascinated, like he's just witnessed a magic trick.

Jim watches silently for a few moments as Joanna encourages Leonard to pull at the string the way she had. Leonard grabs the points he's instructed to but the way he as to twist his wrists to knot the string around his fingers is lopsided and uncoordinated resulting in the string cradle looking messy and unfinished.

Joanna giggles again as Leonard frowns at his hands like they betrayed him. "You'll get it next time," she encourages, unwrapping the string to start again.

"What are you doing?" asks Jim.

Joanna doesn't look up as she starts wrapping the string around Leonard's fingers again. "Cat's cradle." She plucks the string from Leonard's hands. "Daddy showed me when I was younger. I thought Leonard might like to play."

"He can play after. It's time for him to work on the puzzles the therapists sent home. Come on Leonard."

Leonard shakes his head; more fascinated with what Joanna is doing then anything in the dining room.

"You can play with Jo later. It's puzzle time now. Let's go," repeats Jim a little more pointedly.

Leonard huffs, his frown becoming more pronounced.

Joanna glances over her shoulder towards the dining room table. "He doesn't like that one," she says as Leonard fumbles the string transfer again.

"That's not the point," comments Jim. He shifts from foot to foot. He has brief window between meetings to work on this with Leonard. After the debacle during the last meeting with the Commander and Leonard's uncooperative streak he needs today to run smoothly. And honestly, he's tired of repeating himself this week. "Leonard, puzzle time, now," he reiterates.

Leonard shakes his head again before rocking back and forth. The unsteady motion makes it even harder for him to manage the string cradle. "Nooooo," he whines and it sounds something like a haunted howl rather than a declarative statement.

"Who taught you that word?" asks Jim, surprised. Leonard's refusals usually aren't conveyed vocally.

Unfazed by Leonard's refusal or Jim's growing frustration, Joanna confesses, "I did."

"That's nice," replies Jim. He's happy Leonard is learning new words and that Joanna is teaching him but he can't keep the weariness out of his voice. "It's time to work on your assignment Leonard, so let's go. You can come back to this later."

Leonard waits until Joanna has the string wrapped around her fingers before he jumps to his feet, frantically pacing back and forth. He keeps glancing towards the dining room, becoming more agitated as he does. His passes are punctuated with either a head shake of drawn out no.

"Leonard, it's just a puzzle. Like yesterday and the day before. We do them all the time," placates Jim.

"I told you he doesn't like that one," says Joanna, sharply.

Jim rolls his eyes. "It doesn't matter. There's a reason he's supposed to work on them."

"You don't have to do things you don't want to do," counters Joanna in a bland tone.

"I do things I don't want to all the time. This debate being one of them," snaps Jim. He doesn't close his mouth fast enough to stop the words from tumbling out and releasing them out into the world certainly doesn't relieve his frustration.

Joanna scowls, letting out a long sigh as she throws the string on the coffee table. The look is so McCoy, it gives Jim chills. "Come on Leonard, let's go upstairs and read," says Joanna as she gets to her feet.

"He's working on his puzzle," states Jim as Joanna pretty much stomps over to the stairs. Leonard stops his pacing and stands next to the coffee table watching Jim stare after Joanna.

"I doubt it," mumbles Joanna under her breath. Louder she says, "Come on Leonard," before ascending the stairs.

Leonard waits until Jim's looking back at him before defiantly and slowly pushes the cup of colored styluses off the table. The cup clangs against the ground as the styluses roll across the floor. He then dutifully follows Joanna upstairs to her bedroom, parting Jim's company with a short and decisive, "No."

Jim stands there glaring at the pens as they spread across the room.

Jim takes a deep breath; the rattling of the bowl as it slowly stops wobbling along its edge to settle on the floor fills the kitchen. Leonard ignored all three warnings to stop intentionally knocking the dishes off the table and now there's spaghetti all over the floor. "Enough!" snaps Jim over the squishing of Leonard mashing his sock covered feet in a splatter of sauce under his chair.

Leonard just frowns, continuing to use the spilt sauce and noodles on the table as his latest art medium. His frown gets larger as Jim swipes the table clean without another word before silently wiping at the sauce smudged across Leonard's face and shirt.

"Boo," hums Leonard, getting up from the table to head to the patio.

"No," says Jim. "I said no birds if you threw your dinner on the floor."

More defiantly, Leonard says, "Boo!" He stomps over to the back door but it doesn't open. He becomes rigid as his fingertips fail to pry open the patio door; a soft moan growing in the back of his throat.

"Not tonight," says Jim, as he picks up the dishes and wipes up the floor. "Maybe tomorrow if we keep dinner on the table." He keeps his voice level and calm trying to hide his frustration that seems to be ratcheting up as much as Leonard's.

"Boo," whines Leonard, sounding broken as he puts his back to the door and slides down it until he's sitting on the floor.

Jim wants to crawl to the nearest air lock and throw himself out of it. The pained look on Leonard's face makes this feel like anything but a victory. He waffles internally, debating the pros of taking this step versus the harmony of the status quo going forward. His throat burns as he says, "No birds tonight. You can come color for a bit or you can go straight to bed."

Leonard doesn't move from the door, nor does he cease his begging to visit his feathered companion.

Jim sits outside Leonard's bedroom. He hasn't heard any sobbing or rattling around for the last half hour so he figures Leonard's given up his protest and given into going to sleep. Jim sits there for awhile longer, just to be sure. And because he's never had Leonard in bed this early before and doesn't know exactly what to do with this extra time. It doesn't feel right to go off and do something he enjoys, feeling like a complete heel for denying Leonard one of the few joys he has. Doing the right thing somehow feels dirtier than Jim remembers.

It's probably just another punishment that brings the guard into his cell before the sun has even dared to shine down on this place. With a reluctant sigh, Leonard struggles to his feet and stumbles into the waiting tight grip of the guards as they escort him out of the shed. It's when they get on a transport that his nerves start twinge and his stomach drops. This is new and new is never good around here.

The silence on the trip is suffocating. Leonard doesn't dare more an inch. He doesn't think he could if he wanted to; fear has paralyzed him. After everything so far, he didn't believe there was much more these people could do that could frighten him. Turns out, the unknown is a far more effective fear tool than the torture dished out so far. Even the guards look apprehensive and pensive. If they're worried, Leonard doubts he has little chance of withstanding what's coming.

The transport stops in a dusty stretch of nowhere. It's still pitch black out but Leonard can make out the outline of a single small dwelling. There is nothing else around the small hut; no signs of life, not a tree or bush. It seems so out of place compared the walled and well built compound he's been chained to for the last few months. The guards haul Leonard off the transport, shackles clanging along as they drag in the dirt, and into the hut. Immediately Leonard's stomach jumps in his mouth as he propelled downward. Lights slowly start to come on and it's not a hut they're in at all, but a cleverly disguised turbolift propelling him down below ground.

The doors open to a pristine white complex. Through the glass walls Leonard can make out room after room of medical examination suites and research labs. It's the most technology Leonard's seen since the intake processing center they were catalogued in before being sold at auction like cattle. Compared to life at the compound, it's like stepping into the future or being back on the Enterprise.

The facility is almost empty except for a few souls in a couple of the rooms. Leonard doesn't have the option to stop and really look but he has a bad feeling about what might be going on in those rooms. He's seen the kind of care offered to the people at the compound, even to Hadeem's own wife. If a state of the art facility like this exists and isn't being used to care for the people of this world then nothing good can be transpiring.

The guards shove Leonard into one of those rooms and quickly shut the door. He stares at the closed doors wondering if they're the only thing separating him from some coming horror or the thing that trapping him in hell. There's a soft scuffle behind him and that nauseous fear is back in Leonard's gut. He's not alone; there's someone huddled in the corner. "Hello?" says Leonard when they show no acknowledgment that he's even entered the room. His voice is a little shaky but it carried across the room. He can't get a good look at the person. Their head is down with their back to the door, wrapped in messy lumps of an oversized bulky jacket, but their finger is drawing shapes on the wall with rapid intricacy.

Leonard slowly inches forward. He doesn't want to startle his companion but any answers as to what's happening here could mean the difference between life or death later. Inching closer he notices the pointed ears of either a Vulcan or Romulan captive. "Do you know where we are?" tries Leonard not sure if they even understand him let alone hear him.

Still no response or ceasing of the invisible drawing.

Gently, he puts a hand on the prisoner's shoulder whose head snaps up to look Leonard directly in the eye. Leonard gasps, stumbling back as he gets a good look at who he's trapped with. "Ra'tier," he whispers, eyes falling to the large cut running across the Vulcan's forehead and the vacant stare.

Ra'tier goes back to his invisible writing on the wall not showing any acknowledgement that it's Leonard that spoke to him or entered the room.

Leonard wants to puke. He probably should, then his brain won't be able to catalogue all the physical evidence it's trying to piece together to come to some grim conclusions as to his friend's state. "Ra'tier?" he asks shakily, "what did they do to you?"

Getting no answer he crouches down next to the Vulcan, subtly taking Ra'tier's arm in his hand and measuring his pulse. He tries to do an eye movement test and a few other assessments. Nothing gives him any conclusive answers but builds towards some unpleasant possibilities.

The pit in his stomach has opened up into a cavernous pit; a never ending freefall into fear and despair. This isn't a proud Vulcan he's looking at but someone reduced to nothing more than a wounded animal unaware of what danger it's stumbled into.

Leonard's head snaps around as a clunk echoes through the room. Ra'tier remains huddled in the corner unaware and unconcerned that Hadeem has entered the room as well. Leonard stares at the painfully familiar jar, Hadeem slams down on the table. It's like a thousand knives have been stabbed into his chest, all taking different but equally deadly paths to his heart.

"What did you do to him?" demands Leonard, sounding far braver than he feels. There's no other signs of injury so whatever has happened, it was deliberate and a random accident. He needs to know because he has to be wrong about what his panicked mind suspects. Nobody could be this cruel and for what? Ra'tier lives his life as peacefully and dutifully as possible given the hand the universe has dealt him; he's not a difficult slave.

"If you have to ask, then I wasted my money on you," sneers Hadeem, the universal translator conveying every ounce of disdain and smug superiority in his voice.

Leonard swallows the lump in his throat. He doesn't know the exact means but he understands the result. "Why?" Leonard's surprised he can even convince his lips to form the word. It's a layered question that he's not sure he can handle the answers to. Why would anyone want to do this someone? Why do it Ra'tier, especially Ra'tier, who as a Vulcan bases his whole identity on intellect? The jar sits there, accusing Leonard.

"Punishment. If one cannot or will not bend to the will of their master the only option is death or Trava. Ra'tier has been an adequate servant for many years and now he can be one again. I've set him free of his treacherous mind," explains Hadeem, looking at the Vulcan in question like he's bestowed a gift upon him. "He was trying to alert the Federation to our location and my people will not suffer religious persecution from the likes of your people."

Hadeem keeps his eyes firmly on Leonard as he claps his hands. Ra'tier immediately stops huddling in the corner, crawling across the ground to kneel, face pressed to the floor, at Hadeem's feet. Hadeem says something far too quick and low for the facility's translators to pick up, but the order is clear as Ra'tier begins to lick Hadeem's boots.

"You people are sadists," says Leonard. He wants to cry but he won't give Hadeem the satisfaction of seeing his sorrow or his guilt. For weeks, Leonard believe his friend was safely off world selling prepared goods at the market, not here being brutally violated in this place for Leonard's escape attempt.

Hadeem continues on like Leonard hasn't spoken. "Luckily, we were saved from such treachery." Hadeem snaps his fingers. Akeem walks casually into the room, all signs of her former timidness and apprehension gone with each unencumbered step, quickly kneeling at Hadeem's feet, while her eyes glare at Leonard. He reaches down and runs his fingers through her hair. She tilts her head closer, leaning into his touch with a smile playing at her lips.

Leonard feels dizzy. Berlin's warning suddenly makes sense. He thought the young girl had been hiding from captors on the ship, was suffering the same fate as the rest of them at the compound but Akeem hasn't been hiding for safety, but squirreling away in spaces so she can eavesdrop on conversations. Akeem had strategically placed herself around them to gain intel, like back on the ship when the away team arrived.

"Curious," hums Haddem. "Why after thirty years, he would send a note now. And in Standard of all things," Hadeem adds with a twisted smile.

Leonard's being toyed with but his rage doesn't care. "He didn't write it," snarls Leonard, choking on his tears, "but I'm sure your spy told you that." He's worse than a mouse in this game of cat and mouse, he's the damn piece of cheese that's going to be eaten regardless of the winner.

Hadeem steps forward until he's right in Leonard's face. His warm breath crawls over Leonard's skin. "My children tell me everything," he boasts. "They understand loyalty. Hopefully you will understand now too."

Leonard's spared having to act on what would undoubtedly be a terrible, albeit satisfying, idea of smashing Hadeem's nose with a forceful head butt, by another Orion joining them.

"Ahh, you haven't had the pleasure of the Yam'ier Faltice," says Hadeem with a joyous glee that makes Leonard's skin crawl. "He's a talented physician, but I'm sure you can tell by his handiwork," adds Hadeem pointing to Ra'tier.

"No one that does something like that should call themselves a doctor," counters Leonard. His mouth isn't going to get him anywhere but trouble, yet he can't help himself.

"I've been developing some techniques I think you might appreciate, doctor to doctor," says Faltice. His eyes are dark and soulless in a way that threatens to drown Leonard as they zero in on him. "Hadeem is gracious enough to grant you some time to see them up close," he adds with a predatory smile all his own.

It occurs to Jim that things are a little too quiet around the house. He stomps down his initial reaction to panic, doing a mental check to remind himself that all the doors are locked and secured so Leonard can't be anywhere other than the kitchen, living room, and the bedrooms. Since he's not in sight of Jim in the kitchen, he must be upstairs with Joanna. He tilts his head to the side straining his ears to pick up any noise the pair might be making.

Unable to shake the sense of unease he makes his way upstairs. Nothing seems out of sorts; Jim's bedroom door is still closed. The bathroom door is open revealing the wide open cupboard doors of the cabinet below the sink which is odd but not alarming yet. As he gets closer to the end of the hall and Joanna's bedroom he can hear her soft whispers.

Jim pokes his head in see all the stuffed animals lined up on the floor with various levels of bandages wrapped around them. "What's going on here?" asks Jim.

"We're playing doctor and nurse," replies Joanna as Leonard continues to wrap up the blue unicorn's leg.

"I see," says Jim sceptically. "Is that the best use of the medical supplies?" The game is rather heart-warming but a well stocked med kit is more important.

"I'll just put this away," says Joanna grabbing the med kit and standing up.

"What happened to your finger?" asks Jim, rushing into the room as he gets a good look at the bandage around her index finger with a spot of real blood on it. He grabs her hand and looks at the rather decently wrapped finger. He's not surprise; she had a good teacher. It doesn't look like more than a scratch but Jim's a little worried about how it happened.

"I was unpacking some of my things and the mirror in one of my jewellery boxes broke. I cut my finger on it when I opened it. Leonard got the med kit and I should have put it away after he got the bandage but…" blurts Joanna in a rush.

"Wait," interrupts Jim. "Leonard got the med kit?"

"Yes. I know it's not a toy and I should have put it back. It's not his fault. It was my idea to play doctor."

Jim looks at Leonard who's still tending to his unicorn patient completely oblivious to the conversation going on around him. "Leonard did this?" he asks holding up her bandaged finger.

"Yes."

Jim looks at each and every stuffed animal and the rather decent care that went into wrapping their various limbs. Hesitantly he asks, "Because you showed him how?"

"No," replies Joanna, looking at Jim like he's being particularly dense about the situation. "He did that on his own. Then I was his nurse and told him told him which animals to tend to. But if anyone's going to get in trouble it should be me." Joanna takes a small step to put herself between Jim and Leonard.

"No one's in trouble," assures Jim. Leonard who's mostly mastered using a spoon efficiently in the last year is up here bandaging toys with the proficiency of any first year medic. Jim grabs the med kit. "You know what, why don't we all play hospital."

Jim doesn't give it much thought when he and Joanna settle in for movie night. Leonard sits on the floor in front of Joanna as she snuggles into her blanket on the couch with a bowl of snacks. Jim's on the other end of the couch not really giving all his attention to what they're watching. Joanna passes handfuls of popcorn down to Leonard to munch on which he dutifully eats. The pair was already watching some kind of documentary on flamingos when Jim joined them so he let the program run. Leonard seemed enamoured enough with what they're watching only fidgeting once in awhile.

The program ends and the next vid on Joanna's list starts playing; a home movie Leonard shot of Joanna's recital in San Francisco a year after Nero. Jim hasn't seen this particular vid since just after the weekend it was shot. It was a nice visit and if he remembers correctly, Joanna had talked them into going hiking the next day.

Leonard holds Joanna's stuffed animal tightly in his lap as he head subtly bobs along to her solo playing on the view screen. Joanna's the only one in frame but Jim can hear his voice cheering her on as the applause start up.

Jim's about to suggest Joanna get her violin and try playing for Leonard when the vid flashes from the concert to a scenic view from the trail they hiked. Joanna's the one filming because Jim and McCoy are in the shot. Jim's all smiles while McCoy's looking a little haggard, silently muttering that there was a perfectly good view of the lake from the bottom of the mountain.

Jim's only has a profile view of Leonard's face but he can see a scowl forming as he scrutinizes the image of his former self on the screen. Leonard's fidgeting starts to increase; rocking from side to side as the crease in his brow becomes more pronounced. His hand squeezes and releases the stuffed animal coinciding with every time the vid focuses solely on him.

The joyful Jim on screen makes some crack about McCoy needing more adventure in his life followed by a, "The view is nothing like this at the bottom, Bones."

Leonard's head drops down as he shakes it back and forth gently. The head shaking happens in contrast to the rocking which is picking up momentum. He pushes Joanna's hand away as she reaches down with more popcorn.

The clip changes to the trio at the top of their hike with McCoy behind the scenes filming Jim and Joanna looking out across the valley. It's mostly Jim and Joanna talking about all the things they can see with the odd comment in McCoy's disembodied voice.

Leonard keeps his head down but the rocking subsides. He holds the stuffed animal, a tufted and matted duck that's seen its fair share of use over the years, tight to his chest, humming softly into its tattered fluff. He stays that way as the vid focuses on their journey down the trail, capturing impressive rock formations, breathtaking waterfalls and mostly Jim and McCoy's backs.

Jim's attention is now solely focused on watching Leonard rather than the vid. There are a couple more shots of activities that mostly focus on Joanna until one of McCoy straightening his dress uniform plays. Joanna's shooting it from her position of lying on McCoy's bed in their dorm room. McCoy's answering Joanna's string of endless question about the ceremony the cadets have to attend and why the formal uniform is so formal. There's even a litany of how proud she is of her father and cheerful. "Daddy," which sounds so foreign to Jim's ears now.

Leonard's antsy rocking starts up again.

Jim can feel it coming, like a sudden drop in temperature before a storm rolls in. "Jo, maybe you should…" he whispers but the moment he sensed coming happens before he can finish the sentence.

The stuffed animal goes flying across the room. It startles Joanna enough that she knocks the bowl from her lap, dumping the contents on the floor. Leonard gets up in a huff, staring at the spilled popcorn as a few kernels roll off his shoulders and head. He moans, huffing out a strangled, "Noooo," before marching upstairs.

"What happened?" asks Joanna, looking worried.

"It's fine," assures Jim, sweeping up the popcorn with his hands. There's no point in weighing Joanna down with the idea that this was probably the first time Leonard's actually been faced with the past like this and it might have struck a chord. "I'll go check on him," he says, handing back the bowl with what little popcorn didn't spill. He takes the stairs two at a time, leaving Joanna staring after him from her blanket cocoon on the couch.

Jim's torn with concern and maybe a little hope that if Leonard can remember Joanna maybe this a sign he remembers much more. By the time Jim gets to Leonard's room, Leonard is already in bed with the covers pulled over his head. He lets out a long breathe as he debates pushing the issue or not. Eventually he just turns out the lights and heads back down stairs.

The gentle thump of Leonard coming down the stairs pulls Jim from his report. He looks up just in time to see Leonard sit on the floor near the other end of the couch. At first Jim was a little concerned when Leonard would come downstairs without Joanna. Leonard's made it clear Joanna is his favourite person when she's around so for him to leave and come mope around Jim is unusual. Jim would sneak upstairs and peek into her room but the pattern quickly revealed itself.

"She's watching more home vids?" asks Jim casually. Leonard's never carried on a conversation but Jim's still going to try. Worst case, he's just talking to himself. Realistically, he's modeling and creating a space for Leonard to provide more than one word answers or demands. Ideally, his best friend is still there and Jim's treating him like he's more than a ghost.

Leonard just lets out a huff.

Leonard's taken to leaving the room whenever there's a live action McCoy being watched. The thing is, Jim hasn't figured out exactly why old vids bother Leonard. Joanna has family pictures, both from before and after, up in her room and they don't seem to bother Leonard. He even failed to identify a picture of himself in several of his cognitive reviews. Jim wonders if it isn't a little jealousy for the way the home vids capture all of Joanna's attention or if Leonard's empathic soul doesn't sense the lonely ache the vids awakens in all of them.

"I could put on a documentary or one of those learning vids the facility sent over?" offers Jim. It's not Jim's idea of entertainment. They're all rather mind numbingly boring to him but the documentaries hold Leonard's attention.

Leonard just sits there sullenly.

"Should I ask Joanna if she wants to join us outside?" asks Jim.

Leonard rests his chin against the edge of the couch. "Rrrrd Boo."

"Alright," sighs Jim, putting his work down. At this rate he's never going to get done.

"It's a puppy!" giggles Joanna as she kneels to the ground to pet the excited pup. He's a squirming ball of energy, lapping up all the attention Joanna sees fit to bestow.

"Come on in," greets Jim as he reaches the door. Chekov and his Aunt Ulyana step around the squirming dog as it plays with Joanna. "Can I get you anything? I have Iced tea already made."

"That would be great," says Chekov.

"Is this your dog, Pavel?" asks Joanna, petting the tornado of brown and black fur.

"No. He's going to be your father's service dog," says Chekov reaching down to pet the dog.

Joanna looks at him and then to Jim as he walks back into the living room with a tray of drinks. "You got Leonard a dog?"

"We're going to try it. See if they get along and if the dog can help Leonard around the house. If it works then the dog will be his permanently," explains Jim as he watches Leonard hang around the stairs out of the corner of his eye. Jim doesn't know if Leonard's just hesitant because someone new is in the house or if the dog has him concerned. "You want to come see the puppy?" he asks.

Joanna doesn't give him the chance to answer, jumping up to take Leonard by the hand and leading him over the wagging ball of fur. She gently tugs his hand until it's over the puppy then carefully moves Leonard's hand back and forth in a stroking motion. Eventually her hand falls away leaving Leonard to hesitantly pet the dog on his own.

"So if he's a service dog, he knows lots of tricks?" asks Joanna, looking far more thrilled at the prospect than Leonard.

"He knows a lot of commands," corrects Chekov.

"Heal," says Ulyana with a snap of her fingers pointing to a spot next to her feet. The dog immediately stops his play and dutifully sits next to her. "He's a very smart dog and we've been working hard to get him ready to work with Leonard but we'll have to teach you to work with the dog as well." She hands Jim a PADD.

Jim takes it, giving it a cursory glance. It's a list of commands and procedures for caring for the dog. It's pretty much everything they talked about over the last several meetings Jim's had with Ulyana at her ranch. He was impressed with the program she developed complete with holo deck simulation training where the dog learned basic tasks with a holographic version of his charge. "Joanna, in the closet in my room is a brown box with the dog's bed and a few other items. Why don't you take Leonard and the dog and go and set it up in Leonard's room?"

"Okay," she answers enthusiastically. "Come on, Leonard."

"With Leonard," commands Jim looking at the dog. The dog immediately obeys, following hot on Leonard's heels.

"Joanna seems thrilled. Leonard maybe less so," comments Chekov.

"It takes Leonard awhile to adjust. But he does seem to respond well to animals so I think this will work," says Jim. The knot in his stomach loosens a little.

"We'll give you a few days to let everything settle and I'll come back at the end of the week to check on the dog and polish up some of his training now that he's tasked with the real person. You should pick out a name that works for you," says Ulyana.

"I'll leave it in their capable hands," says Jim tilting his head towards the stairs. He extends his hand to shake Ulyana's. "Thank you again."

Jim gives Joanna and Leonard about a half hour upstairs before calling them down. He suspects their promptness at his request is due to the dog quickly obeying more than anything else. "So, do we think he might be a good addition to the family?" asks Jim, more to Joanna than Leonard, who seems to be a little warmer towards the dog.

"He's awesome," replies Joanna, ruffling the short fur of the German Sheppard's head.

"What are we going call him?"

"What about Cosmo or Orion?" suggests Joanna. She looks over to Leonard who is focusing especially hard at petting the dog the exact way Joanna had shown him. "Do you like any of those, Leonard?"

"No rrrd," he replies shaking his head.

"No he's not a bird," agrees Jim. "He's a dog. D-og, dog. And he needs a name." Jim carefully points at each of them. "My name is Jim. She's Jo, you're Leonard. Outside is Boo. And this is?"

"D-og," says Leonard, frowning like the word just doesn't seem appropriate.

"We should probably keep it simple," says Jim scratching the German Sheppard's head.

"He's here to help Leonard, what about Lassie? Daddy used to talk about a helpful dog named Lassie."

"I think Lassie was girl," says Jim. "What do think, boy? Are you a Lassie?" The dog licks Jim's hand in response, tail wagging. Jim's about to see if Leonard can manage Lassie, when the fast and furious tail inevitably smacks Leonard in the face. Joanna giggles.

Leonard frowns. He extends his leg out from his cross legged position and gently pushes at the dog until its backend slides across the floor so it's facing Jim. Satisfied he's as far away from the energetic tail that he can be without getting up, Leonard begins petting the again.

Joanna reaches over to the box of toys they set up at the end of the couch and pulls out a chew toy shaped like a bone. She passes it over to Leonard. "Throw it and he'll chase it," she suggests.

Leonard takes it awkwardly out of her hand and gently tosses it. It only travels about two feet but the dog springs after it. Happily chewing at it, he brings the toy back and drops it in front of Leonard. Ever so quietly he says, "Bones."

Jim's breathe catches in his throat.

"Yes, dogs like to chew on bones," agrees Joanna. "Throw it again for Lassie."

Leonard shakes his head. He repeats, "Bones," reaching out to pet the dog rather than continue playing fetch. "Bones."

"I think he wants to call the dog Bones," says Joanna looking at Jim.

Jim just sits there, mind gone blank. He's been very careful to never use that name not only because Leonard didn't respond well to it in the begining, but the person who was Bones is gone. Hearing it now is like hearing someone speak ill of the dead. Of all the words Leonard could come up with, it had to be this one. Jim doesn't even know where he pulled the name from considering it's been years since it's graced Jim's tongue.

"Bones."

"We're not naming the dog that," snaps Jim, a little harsher than necessary. His heart is starting to pound and he can't make himself relax. He forces himself to smile, saying a little gentler, "Try something else."

"What about Benji?" tries Joanna.

Leonard just looks Jim straight in the eyes and says, "Bones." There's a defiant yet hopeful gleam in his eye.

Jim crosses his arms. "No. Pick a different one," says Jim sharply. He's not doing this. He doesn't care who's coming up with the name, he's not naming a dog after his best friend.

"Bones," insists Leonard, wrapping his arms around the dog's neck to give it a hug.

"Leonard seems really set on it," intervenes Joanna.

"Absolutely not. I said no."

"Bones!" shouts Jim, rattling the bowl of dog food. The autumn air is starting to get chilly in the early mornings and he pulls his jacket tighter around his neck. "Come on, boy. Breakfast time."

Bones barks from somewhere out in the field as he races towards the back porch. Jim sets the bowl down as the dog runs up the steps to wolf down its food.

Jim tries not to be indifferent to the dog but there's something about calling him Bones that makes his skin crawl. It's a direct ticket to the past and all the haunting and beautiful memories Jim's worked so hard to bury over the years. At the same time Leonard's never really asked for anything except this and despite Jim's discomfort, who is he to deny Leonard his first real independent request.

Jim's anxious from the moment he wakes up. He paces around the kitchen slamming back coffee like he used to beers at the start of a night out. The house is quiet; Joanna and Leonard still asleep. The gentle tapping of Bone's nails as he descends the stairs to wait patiently by the backdoor to be let out is the only other sign of life at this early hour. Jim lets the dog out, turning the garden path lights on to fight the predawn darkness.

He sets up a make shift command center at the dining room table. Multiple PADDs are propped up displaying various reports and live transmissions. Nervous energy thrums through Jim as he tries to bury the itch to be a part of the mission he's been prepping for over a year now. This is the moment he's been dreaming of since Leonard was found.

Bones scratches gently at the backdoor. He saunters in as Jim opens the door and curls up under the table to avoid being under foot as Jim paces. Normal routine wouldn't have Bones waiting very long for Leonard to wake up and join everyone for breakfast but normal is still a few hours away today.

Jim sits at the edge of his seat as reports start filtering in along with footage of the strike team breaching the compound worlds away. Jim knows the plan, intimately, as it plays out before him. He and Thai had been briefing the team for weeks on all the possible scenarios and outcomes of this mission. Watching it, Jim almost wishes he'd taken up the offer to lead the team but the personal satisfaction of arresting their target isn't worth the upheaval to Leonard's carefully crafted schedule and their makeshift family's existence. Still, his fingers twitch with the desire to participate in more than an organizational capacity.

It's like watching a good holonovel play out. Jim knows the ending he's hoping for but the twists and turns to get there are thrilling and nerve wracking. He realizes just how much he misses the excitement of being on the bridge of the Enterprise. The anticipation finally comes to a head as the team leader comms, "We have him in custody. Beaming back to the ship now."

Jim can breathe. He goes from all keyed up to absolutely exhausted in one sentence; going boneless in the dining room chair as Bones gets up and noses at his hanging hand. "We did it," whispers Jim as cheering and celebrating comes over the comm..

Jim's not paying a lot of attention to the news coverage playing on the screen in the living room. He's busy tying up loose ends in reports and packing away the research and notes he's had scattered around the house for the last couple of months. The dining table is cluttered with open boxes and other wayward items that Jim keeps picking up and shuffling to new temporary locations.

He briefly looks up as the front door open. Joanna's come home from school, Leonard and Bones waiting at the gate at the top of the drive way for her return. He does a quick head count and nods as Joanna yells something about going up stairs to do homework before he zones out completely.

A sharp crash of glass from the living room causes Jim to pause. "Hold on, Commander. I'll be right back," says Jim as he mutes his vid chat. Cautiously he moves into the living room. No one's there but there is a neat pile of what used to be a green glass vase that adorned the mantle on the ground and the holo pictures that set next to it are scattered across the couch like someone swept their arm across the mantle.

Several thuds come from the dining room and Jim stands there rather stunned as a wave of items sluff across the floor like a river. Leonard's pained moaning finally uproots Jim's feet and he rushes around the corner.

Leonard's sitting under the table knees pulled tight to his chest as he rocks back and forth; Bones dutifully standing protectively at the edge of the table.

"Leonard," says Jim softly, "can you come out from there?"

Leonard shakes his head, continuing to rock and whimper. His hands clasp tighter to a set of black rings Jim recognizes from one of the boxes- one of the boxes with Leonard's personal effect from his rescue.

Jim gets on his hands and knees and crawls under the table. He gets within arm's reach of Leonard and sits; close enough to hopefully be a comfort but with enough space so as not to crowd him. "What have you got there?" he tries, gently trying to pull the rings from Leonard. Jim doesn't know what they were for, just that Leonard had them on like bracelets and medical had to cut them off after failing to find some kind of clasp to open them with since they were too small to get over Leonard's hands.

Leonard holds on even tighter, scooting back out of Jim's reach. He turns his head and his moan turns into an angry growl that has Leonard crawling out from under the table to start pacing.

Jim can see the screen in the living room from Leonard's former position. The news reports are prominently displaying images of the Orion doctor captured earlier today on charges of slavery, trafficking, mutilation, murder and kidnapping of Federation citizens and Starfleet personnel. Leonard's name is on the list of victims. "Computer, shut off view screen in living room," commands Jim.

He crawls out from under the table. "He's gone," he sooths. "They arrested him and he's never going to hurt you or anyone ever again," Jim promises. The greater accomplishment would have been if Jim had stopped him before he ever got his hands on Leonard.

If anything, Leonard gets wilder. His pace increases and he takes swipes at various knickknacks and pictures in his path. Bones stands out of the way, letting out the occasional bark to alert Jim to the problem.

Jim raises his hands in a placating gesture. "You're safe here, Leonard."

Leonard pauses for a moment tear filled eyes looking pained. His hands shake around the rings he refuses to put down. Even standing in place his body trembles and shakes with the compulsion to move.

"The bad men are gone," whispers Jim, like he's taking to a scared horse.

Leonard bites his lip muffling the broken whimpers clawing their way out of his throat. He eyes Jim wearily like any minute the monster that haunts him will burst out from around the corner and drag Joanna and Jim away this time.

Slowly, Jim takes a side step toward the side table and slowly opens the drawer, careful to maintain eye contact with Leonard. He reaches in running his fingers over the contents until his finger brush the familiar handle of a spare hypo and the stash of vials. He pulls his hand out, careful to keep the hypo out of sight and puts it in his back pocket. "Why don't we go upstairs and lie down for a bit? I think that fluffy purple blanket you like is one your bed."

Leonard looks longingly up the stairs. He lets out a whimper, shoulders slumping.

Jim creeps forward, gently putting a hand on Leonard's shoulder and turning him in the direction of the stairs. "It's going to be okay," he sooths, gently shuffling Leonard up the stairs. Bones brushes past Jim's leg as he runs up the stairs to wait patiently for them at the top.

Leonard takes the first couple of steps and squirms in Jim's arms trying to turn back around.

"No, let's go upstairs," insists Jim. He keeps his voice calm and soft, less like an order and more like it's actually Leonard's idea.

It's Jim's fault really. He should have waited until they were in the bedroom before try take the rings out of Leonard's hands but Leonard seemed pliable enough and it would be easier to distract Leonard from them if he could leave them outside the door instead of having them in the bedroom or trying to put them somewhere while trying to get Leonard to settle. The second Jim started to pull the first ring loose, Leonard exploded in flailing arms and frantic movements accompanied by a high pitch wail. Their bodies connect hard in all the commotion and Jim's foot misses the step by half an inch sending him tumbling down the stairs in spectacular fashion.

The commotion prompts Joanna to stick her head out of her bedroom. "What's going on?" she asks as Leonard paces back and forth down the hallway bobbing his head and yelling no. "Oh my god, Uncle Jim," she says panicked, catching sight of Jim crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.

Jim tires to pick himself up but blinding pain radiates down his arm rendering the limb useless. He can still hear Leonard freaking out up stairs and the last thing he needs is Joanna to get caught in the middle. "Go to your room, Joanna and close the door."

"But, you're hurt," protest Joanna. "And Leonard…" She looks helpless at Leonard as he walks in and out of the rooms frantically shaking his head and waving his arms.

"I'll be fine," insists Jim, though he has a feeling he won't be shaking this one off. "I just need you to listen to me and go into your room."

"Do I need to call someone?" she asks a little desperately.

"No!" objects Jim. "I have everything under control."

Joanna hesitates but steps back into her room. Jim waits until he hears the door close then tells the computer to make a call.

"No," says Thai plainly.

"I had to call someone," says Jim. He's leaning on the armrest of the couch, arm hanging uselessly by his side while Thai subtly surveys the house from his stance at the entrance to the living room.

"When you said you needed help, I didn't know it was for this," argues Thai. This is not what he thought he was agreeing to when Jim asked him to come over in the middle of the night.

"It will be fine. I won't be gone that long," assures Jim. The relatively hard part is over. He's calmed Leonard down enough to give him a sedative so Leonard's pretty pliable and in the mood to cooperate as long as things are mellow assuming he even wakes up.

"What in our relationship has led you to believe I'm any good at babysitting?" protests Thai as he follows Jim towards the front door. He emphasises his point by pointing at Joanna who's been sitting on one of the bottom steps since Thai arrived.

"I don't need you to watch Jo," says Jim, over top of Joanna's protests of being too old for a babysitter, "I need someone that can handle Leonard." If it was a normal situation he'd just drag Joanna and Leonard along with him to medical or wait until morning to go when he's sure Leonard has forgotten the whole thing. Jim's never seen Leonard this upset and if he wakes in this same mood, Jim's going to need both arms functioning to handle it.

"I'm not the slave whisper," counters Thai.

Jim raises his hand to stop Thai from continuing. It's the one piece of information he's successfully kept from Joanna- who took her father and why. Jim knows most of what happened to Leonard at the hands of slavers, he doesn't need Joanna to know the details or piece together a nightmare from information on the subject she manages to research.

"What?" asks Joanna, cocking her head to the side.

"I met Thai at work. He works with families who have relatives that were kidnapped like Leonard. He has experience working with them. He'll be great with Leonard," promises Jim.

"You work with him?" asks Joanna.

"On occasion," replies Jim.

"So you don't know him that well," Joanna counters.

Jim's arm is really starting to throb. He doesn't have it in him to negotiate a peace treaty here. "Well enough."

"Hello stranger that's in charge of watching us, who just might be an axe murdering serial killer," says Joanna, standing up and extending her hand.

"Jokes on you, I strangle my victims with piano wire but if an axe is all you have, I'll make due," snipes Thai.

Joanna glances at the piano in the living room through the corner of her eye. "Nice." She turns to Jim. "I'm perfectly capable of watching Leonard sleep. We don't need strangers coming in."

Normally Jim would agree, someone unfamiliar would cause more stress but tonight the rule book is out the window. "He might wake up and I don't know what kind of mood he's going to be in and I need to get this arm looked at."

"You said you were alright," she protests.

"I am," insists Jim because she doesn't need to know otherwise. It wasn't malicious on Leonard's part, it was Jim's clumsiness combined with his lack of situational awareness and he doesn't need people thinking otherwise. It was an accident, there's no need to make a big deal about it.

"You're not," scoffs Thai from the corner.

Jim's head snaps around as he glares at Thai. "You're not helping," he hisses, low enough that maybe Joanna might miss it. Softer he adds, "I just need someone to give it a once over and it's almost your bedtime so there's no need to drag both of you along. I won't be long."

Joanna huffs and stomps upstairs.

"She's a delight," says Thai sardonically.

"She's thirteen," sighs Jim. "You just need to make sure she stays in the house. Leonard's the challenge tonight." Jim stares at the vid screen that's been on mute post Leonard freak out. It's the same news report cycling through; continuous coverage of the processing of the detainee and the mounting evidence against them. "Tell me he's going to spend the rest of his life in a penal colony," Jim practically begs in a voice that's worn paper thin.

Thai glances at the screen; his disgust subtly curving his features. "Dr Faltice? Probably not. He'll claim religious persecution or make some kind of deal to give up locations and other offenders." They'd started the day off celebrating his capture. Now they're confronted with the remnants of his handiwork and how it continues to affect the lives of those he tortured.

Jim hopes that's not true, that Thai's just a pessimist, but he's been a part of Starfleet too long to not know the agenda comes first. If they can take a part the whole slave ring, letting one sadistic bastard go may be worth it to the universe but it doesn't make Jim feel any better. "You think Starfleet could finally take it all down?"

"No. We're talking about an institution that's been around for millennia's. It's tied into a culture and woven into the fabric of a religion. And the people running it are really smart with lifetimes of experience of persevering," says Thai with remorse. "All today did was give a few people a reason to have a good night's sleep."

"I won't be long," promises Jim, a little deflated and beyond tired.

Jim comes in a throws his medication on the counter. He's exhausted for all the non answers he had to come up with about what happened but at least the pain's subsided. He doesn't need or want the headache of an investigation to determine if Leonard poses a danger or worse for Jocelyn to think Leonard might be violent. Any investigation would discover what Jim already knows but the disruption to their lives and the chaos of having strangers around is counterproductive. "How'd it go?"

"I don't need you to help be hide any bodies." Thai without taking his eyes of the view screen. It's still on the news cycle; reporters making commentary on things they're so far removed from they couldn't possibly understand the actual implication and effect their story has on real people. "She pretty much stayed in her room. Leonard got up and went into your room. I heard the dog follow him, but he went back to his bed pretty quick. Haven't heard a peep. How was medical?"

"Broken in three places," sighs Jim as he flops down next to him. "I'm supposed to take it easy for the next two days to make sure the regeneration holds," he adds showing off his sling.

"You're lucky Leonard didn't punch you in the nose," says Thai.

"Leonard didn't do this," protest Jim.

"Yeah you just decided to swan dive down the stairs all on your own?" Thai stares at Jim with a look that suggests being clumsy isn't the entirety of the story.

"I slipped," insists Jim.

"Right," scoffs Thai, "because Leonard reacting drastically to images of Faltice couldn't possibly be a reason for him to maybe push you?" Jim doesn't answer. "I've been there, remember? It's all scary and confusing for him and a wounded animal reacts without thinking about the consequences of those actions but you have to keep in mind that he might not intend to hurt you but he could."

"I know." The difference between the good days and the bad ones are Jim's ability to head off the bad ones before they start. He forgot that today and then got sucked into the moment and put Leonard in a position to potentially cause harm. "I don't think it was just Faltice on the news though," he adds, kicking the rings on the table with his toe.

They clink together pulling Thai's attention. "That'll probably do it too."

"What are they? The rescue party found them on him and medical couldn't figure how to get them off other than to cut them off. I couldn't find anything on them in any of the resources on Orion Slavery I read.

"That's 'cause we don't talk discusses things with outsiders, especially our religion," says Thai, implementing air quotes. "They're made out of an ore mined from a scared volcano and bestowed upon slaves. It's pretty indestructible to anything a slave can get their hands on so there's no fear they'll take them off. In fact, they have to melt the ore and then pour the molten metal on the slave's wrist. They use a compound from a native plant to help shape it but it burns. It's one of the more painful things endure."

"Is there anything you people do that doesn't hurt?" asks Jim, feeling a little sick.

Thai gives a deriding snort. "Pain is good for the soul. It's the one thing all living life forms share in common," he recites like he's repeating sacred scripture.

Jim supposes that's exactly how it was explained to him, like some kind of sacred gift to experience pain in service of a system disguised as for of divine love to cover up the debauchery and brutality of unbridled cruelty.

"It sounds all mystical and important but really it's just a mineral composition that blocks transporters. Slaves can't beam themselves to safety and rescue ships can't beam them off world or off ships. They're pretty shackles without the cumbersome chains."

Jim lets his head flop back against the couch. "There's nothing they can do to Faltice and the rest that will ever be enough."

It's the screams that keep Leonard up at night. He covers his ears with his fists, fingertips digging tight into the palms of his hands, but it silences nothing. He tries to think about dinners with Jim or discovering new bars with Scotty, philosophical conversations with Uhura, new ways to goad Spock or listening to Joanna tell him all about what she learned in school that day, anything other than this place. He closes his eyes because like he told Joanna about the monster in her closet, if you close your eyes and count to ten and it's not there, you're safe. He counts.

When he opens his eyes there's even more monsters than before. The door to his cell slides open and two guards step inside. "Yam'ier Faltice requests your presence," says the one guard like it's a god damn invitation Leonard can refuse. The other grabs him by the arm hard enough to leave bruises if Leonard's arms weren't already black and blue.

He stumbles along between them trying hard to not make eye contact with any of the other poor souls trapped in this hell with him. He's seen the handiwork of butchers, the aftermath of horror too unfathomable to speak but always with the gift of tools and skill to try and remedy or heal. Here he's forced to watch and listen while it happens and it peels his soul away one scream at a time like someone taking swipes at the soft flesh of an apple.

"Ah, my Federation Doctor," coos Faltice as the guards bring Leonard into the chamber of horrors disguised as an operating room. "You know, I've never had the pleasure of examining a live Triale before," he says picking up a lazer scalpel from his tray of tools.

Leonard glances up for a second from the spot on the floor he's hyper focused on. He can't bring himself to look the Triale woman strapped to the table in the eyes but he sees enough of her silver dotted green skin, hears the bleat sound her quills reverberate as she hyperventilates.

He had a Triale in his medical class at Ole Miss, Kel Eti, they went on to do their first residency together. He can't bring himself to really look at the woman on the table but he can only picture Kel Eti there now.

"They are a part of the Federation are they not?" asks Faltice with the same smug arrogance he always taunts Leonard with. Leonard doesn't answer; he doesn't want to play this game. Faltice carries on, unbothered by Leonard's silence. "As such, you must have experience with such creatures. I would be willing to yield the floor to your expertise." He holds out the scalpel to Leonard like he's presenting a gift from god.

Leonard's finger twitches. He knows what's coming; he's seen and heard it for weeks now. If he had any strength or soul left he'd take that scalpel and cut through her artery; a quick and merciful death. He wonders exactly what his oath to do no harm means in this context. He can't bring himself to take a life but not doing so, is going to condemn this soul to something far worse than death.

Leonard doesn't take the scalpel.

"Such a disappointment," tuts Falice. "Very well, I will teach myself."

Leonard stares at his chosen spot on the floor until the blood dripping from the table becomes so much the puddle spreads over it; long after the screaming stops.

The world disappears behind a ringing sound that grows louder and louder until it's the only thing in existence and then it disappears too. Jim's lost in a sea of nothing, grey enrobed around the little rowboat as it bobs uselessly in the void. Then the world comes crashing back like a tsunami wave capsizing the boat, splitting it into a million pieces that scatter across the ocean leaving Jim nothing to hang on to.

"Captain Kirk?" repeats the Ensign looking like he's debating calling medical. "Captain Kirk!"

Jim stays silent, pushing the Ensign out of his way. Slowly his pace increases until he's in a dead run. The other officers in the hall part for him like the Red Sea, a trail of mummers and shock following in his wake. "Beam me up to space dock!" he demands, exploding into the transporter room. The attendant is quick to respond, punching in the sequence.

Jim makes it to space doc observation just as the Enterprise limps into space dock. The ship is like a wounded animal desperately trying to drag it's broken body to safety. Jim never thought it was possible to see his ship in such a state; like him the Enterprise always seemed to defy the odds. Everyone else seems to be in as much shock as him; a crowd of mourners pulled to the observation windows to witness history.

The docking clams lock in place and Jim is in motion again. Emergency crews are marching on board to survey the damage and help try to stabilize systems and life support as uninjured crew members help medical evacuate the injured. He manoeuvres around the steady stream of people, desperate to find answers, to negate the truth he knows deep in his gut is accurate.

"Scotty!" he yells over the crowd. Scotty's standing there with the same lost look Jim had when he heard the news. He pushes people out of the way to get to his friend. "Scotty!"

"Jim?" asks Scotty, reaching out to grab Jim's arm like he might not be real. His hands are shaking.

Jim steers the engineer to the side of the hall, out of the flow of traffic. "What happened?"

"It was the Klingons," stammers Scotty. "We didn't stand a chance. We were just there to arrest that terrorist and then the engines failed." Scotty looks around a little helplessly. "They shoudn'ta done that Jim. She never lets me down. Now look at her. It shouldn't have happened."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault," soothes Jim, feeling useless. He should have been there. The Enterprise was his ship, his crew. He knew something was wrong the last time he saw Pike. The man looked tired, worn and weighed down by a world Jim wasn't privy too anymore. Pike had wanted Jim to come back and now it's too late.

"But," protests Scotty, looking over his shoulder helplessly. "She always tells me when something is wrong and she didn't. And the Captain… the Captain… Jim, Pike's dead." His face falls with his shoulders. Now with solid ground under his feet, the weight of the universe has come to rest on those shoulders.

"I know," says Jim in a tight voice.

Jim's the first to volunteer to take point on the Enterprise investigation. He owes it to his friends to find the answers to what happened out there while they recover and regroup from their harrowing experience. All of Starfleet command is tied up in meetings debating their future and course of action based on what happened out there. Jim can't say he's disappointed with the decision Admiral Markus makes to go to war with the Klingons. He wants his pound of flesh too, for Pike.

Jim debates what he's going to say to Joanna. While Jim's stepped into a parental roll, Pike seamlessly filled in the role of Uncle. He decides to tell her after she comes back from a hiking trip with her friend. He makes her favourite snacks and lays them out on the coffee table. He listens patiently while she regales him and Leonard with all the animals she saw and how nice the lake was to swim in at the end of the trail. He waits until she's done, spreading sunshine and joy, and it feels like the worst kind of ambush.

She goes to her room after crying on Jim's shoulder for an hour, to cry in private. Jim sits helplessly on the couch listening to her muffled wails. Leonard seems rather listless. He stays downstairs but kind of sits in the corner by himself. Every once in awhile he rolls a crayon across the table and watches as it rolls off the edge, hitting the floor with a soft crack then rolls either under the couch or into the wall. Jim doesn't know if Leonard understands who Pike is, let alone that he's gone or if he's just reacting to Jim and Joanna's melancholy.

Jim's fingers don't seem to work. He fumbles with the top button of his uniform shirt for over ten minutes. He keeps turning his eulogy over in his head, rewriting it constantly and never settling on anything. He pulls at the hem of his shirt, frowning as he looks in the mirror. It isn't straight enough or pressed enough for today. His medals don't sit right.

Jim feels alone in a way he hasn't felt since before he joined Starfleet- before Pike picked him up off the floor and told him he was destined for something more. He thinks back to how tired Pike looked the last time they spoke in person; the weight and burden of command, a command he had wanted Jim to take back, taking its toll on him. He was so concerned about doing right by Leonard that he'd been doing wrong by Pike and now it's too late to try and find a middle.

He shakes his head. He doesn't regret what he's done for Leonard. It's just now with Pike gone, he's keenly aware of the pause he placed on his life.

Jim comes downstairs to the smell of coffee and a raining silence. Ben has a cup poured before he even has to ask. "Thanks."

"No problem," says Ben, as he continues to dance around the kitchen like a competent home maker.

"Good morning, Captain Kirk," says Demora around a mouthful of pancakes.

Jim gives her a small smile. Joanna doesn't bother to look up from her plate, still pouting from being told she wouldn't be attending the funeral today and upset that there even is a reason to have one. Leonard is busy mucking with his blocks, too busy to eat the breakfast Ben made for them as part of his early start today to babysitting. Demora giggles as she drops a piece of pancake on the floor for Bones to enthusiastically scarf down.

Jim pulls at his collar again. It keeps creeping up, wrapping around his neck and strangling him. "There's a couple things I have to take care of after the funeral."

"'Immmm," says Leonard.

"So I might not be back until after dinner," continues Jim, over Leonard's call.

"'Im," tries Leonard again.

"Take all the time you need," offers Ben.

A little more desperately, Leonard whines, "'Im."

"In a minute, Leonard," huffs Jim. The clock is against him and the list of things to do is shadowing over him like a mighty blue mountain in the distance. He doesn't have time for anything that isn't Pike related right now. Jim wasn't paying attention before, the least he can do is give the man his due and full focus now. "You don't have to things to do?" he asks Ben, looking at Demora.

"Hikaru's going to come by after the funeral and take Demora home, so I can stay with these two as long as you need," Ben assures.

Jim nods, glancing in the part of the living room mirror he can see from the kitchen. He pulls at his collar again while reaching for his coffee cup.

"'Im," pleads Leonard, grabbing a hold of Jim's hand with the coffee cup and pulling.

Leonard tugs on Jim's arm just hard enough that Jim spills the coffee down the front of his shirt. "Fuck," yells Jim as the warm liquid blooms across his shirt. It doesn't burn but his shirt is ruined. "I don't have time for this shit."

Demora covers her ears with her hands while Joanna finally looks up from her plate at Jim's outburst. Leonard starts moaning, scurrying backwards until his back hits the wall. He sinks to the ground and starts rocking back and forth clutching his knees tight to his chest.

Ben grabs a cloth from the sink and passes it to Jim. Jim takes it to try and soak up some of the liquid, huffing in frustration as he looks at Leonard. He opens his mouth to apologise but those words aren't very forthcoming either.

"I'll look at what you built," says Joanna, glaring at Jim as she gets up from the table to go and investigate Leonard's block arrangement.

Jim's shoulder's slump. There's nothing like getting kicked when he's down.

"I've got it," reassures Ben softly. "I'll comm. Hikaru and have him track down a clean shirt for you to change into once you get to HQ. You just need to get away from all this for a couple of minutes," he adds kindly. The pressure and weight of everything bearing down the last few days is showing in all of them. He smiles then goes over to help with Leonard.

Jim nods, not bothering with goodbye as he leaves.

Anyone who's anybody with Starfleet attends the funeral. It's a show of force and unification as the drums of war beat. Jim struggles with the eulogy; words seem inadequate in articulating the loss or greatness of the man. He would kill to hear, "It's going to be alright, son," just one more time, because damn it, he needs to know it's going to be okay.

He waits until after Pike's funeral to march into the Marcus's office and demand a more active role in the Starfleets's newest cause. He can't sit on the sidelines for this one.

It's the barking that pulls Jim from sleep's embrace. "Bones," he mumbles before his eyes snap open. If the dog is barking something is going on. He slides out of bed and traipse across the hall to Leonard's room. Peeking in the door, Leonard is fast asleep, curled up with one of Joanna's stuffed animals and completely oblivious to the world. The barking continues, coming from downstairs.

"What is it, Bones?" asks Jim as he pads down the stairs. The dog is sitting by the front door, tail wagging. Jim frowns. If the dog needs to go out, he wakes Jim in bed and runs to the back door not the front door. A streak of lightening cracks outside, lighting up the house and casting a shadow of someone outside the front door though the sidelights. "Computer lights," commands Jim before opening the door.

The soaking wet intruder looks up startled as the door opens.

"Joanna?" asks Jim surprised. It's past midnight and she's supposed to in Atlanta with her mother, not standing on the porch with a backpack. "Get in here," he says stepping out of the way. It's pouring out and she already looks like she's been out in this weather for far longer than anyone should.

Joanna steps inside, a puddle forming at her feet in the foyer. Jim can hear Leonard sneaking down the stairs, sitting on a step about halfway down as Jim ushers Joanna into the living room. He grabs a blanket from off the couch and wraps the soaking wet girl in it as Bones hops up on the couch next to her.

"How did you even get here?" he asks, thinly controlled anger coloring his words. The whole thing is crazy and he knows Joanna is smart enough to know how over the line this is.

Joanna scratches Bones' head. "I hitched a ride," she says likes it's no big deal. She keeps her attention on Bones, so as not to have to look Jim in the eyes.

"From Atlanta? Does your mother know?" shouts Jim. Of all the reckless things; a fourteen year old traveling alone across country in the middle of the night.

"Can I live here?" she asks in a small voice.

"What?" sputters Jim. It' a complete one-eighty from his question.

"Can I live here with you and Leonard?" she says again and this time her voice is strained from holding back tears.

"Jo," he starts and then lets it hang there as he looks at her, really looks at her. School went back in session four months ago meaning Joanna's been staying in Atlanta more, for school and her extracurriculars and because Jim's at headquarters helping run the offensive against the Klingons, he's cancelled the last few weekends Joanna was able to come out. Shamefully it's probably been three months since he's seen her.

She's changed in the last few months or maybe in the last year. Joanna's no longer the little girl he used to sneak extra candy to when Leonard wasn't looking or the bubbly playmate who shares a love for animals with the current version of Leonard they know. He's looking at a teenager now and not that 'had to grow up too fast kid' he knew, but a rebellious teenager he doesn't recognize. Her clothes are different, no longer the prim and proper child of high society but the stick it to the world fashion Jim was all too familiar with growing up. Hell, even her hair is different.

"Is your hair blue?" he asks because his brain just can't incorporate the change in the Leonard's sweet girl. Worse he can't help but think, her mother couldn't possibly allow Joanna to leave the house with blue streaks in her long black hair.

"Yes," she snaps, running her fingers through her wet hair.

Jim sits down on the edge of the couch. "Jo, you can't live here. We have a custody agreement where you live with your mom for school."

"I can transfer to a school here," she counters.

"What about your mom. She'd miss you."

"No she won't," Joanna argues. "And I can help you look after Leonard if I'm here. Then he doesn't have to go to that stupid daycare you shove him into when you go to work. It's better for everyone."

Jim has a sinking feeling in his gut. "Does Jocelyn even know you're here right now?"

"No and trust me, she doesn't care," says Joanna sullenly. "Promise me you won't tell her," she begs.

"Jo, you know I can't do that. Why don't you tell me what happened."

"We fight all the time. And now Clay's company has this contract and he's always away on business and he wants us to come live with him on Denova so he can be home more. And with the baby on the way, mom thinks we should. I don't want to move. I like living on Earth and if I go, I'll never see Leonard or you. I barely see you now. I don't want to go and she can't make me. So I ran away."

Jim feels like he has miles to catch up. Jocelyn never said anything about potentially moving, let alone that she's having another child. It's another loop he wasn't prepared for. "That doesn't mean you run away and hitchhike here," scolds Jim. Everything he ever did as a teen comes back to haunt him, whispering hypocrite while every horrible scenario of what could have happened to a young girl alone plays out in his mind.

He thinks back to the farmers market his mother took him and Sam to one day. They got candy and balloons and got to see the ducks races and watch bees working in an active hive. It was all so much fun until Jim had wanted to pet the goats and Sam wanted to participate in the pie eating contest and Winona took them to the pie booth. At first Jim had stood there watching but eventually he let go of Winona's hand and slowly he backed away until he was through the crowd and on his way to see the goats.

He remembers how soft the goats were, and how funny it was to watch them play until Winona came running up to him, sweeping him up into her arms crying. She held him so tightly as she cried, kissing his forehead and running her hands through his hair. She told him how scared she was that she lost him and how Jim would understand one day. After that Winona spent more time off world than at home and Jim never gave it another thought. Jim's pretty sure understands what she was feeling that day, what Jocelyn is probably feeling right now.

"Before we do anything else rash, why don't we get a good night's sleep and then I'll talk to Jocelyn and can see if we can figure out what exactly is going to happen."

Joanna rolls her eyes before getting off the couch and stomping up stairs. "Come on Leonard," she says as she passes him on the stairs.

Leonard glares at Jim for moment then gets up and follows her into her room. Bones follows suit, dashing up the stairs and disappearing out of sight.

"Et tu, Bones?" whispers Jim feeling completely alone. He doesn't have the right answer for this. He doesn't want Joanna to be out of reach any more than she does. Between taking care of Leonard and trying to manage a war that's just starting and has no clear end in sight, does he have time for anyone else? He can't not be involved in this war. If he had just been there, like Pike wanted, maybe none of this would have happened. What does he even know about raising a teenager full time?

Jim takes a deep breath and comms Jocelyn. At least he can sooth her worries for tonight.

Leonard supposes this is the moment he's lost any sense of self. He actually feels relief when it's Hadeem that shows up at the cell door instead of the usual guards that come and take him to Falice's torture sessions. God help him, there's a split second where his brain actually thinks, maybe he can go home- back to Hadeem's compound.

He breaks out into a cold sweat. His stomach rolls and threatens to expel contents it doesn't have. Leonard McCoy, doctor. Father of Joanna, my little humming bird, who's waiting for me on Earth. CMO of the starship Enterprise captained by Jim Kirk he reminds himself and the words seem so foreign now.

Hadeem runs his ring adorned fingers across the transparent walls forming the cell. "It's been brought to my attention that someone has dared to steal from me," he says in a tight controlled voice. "Imagine my surprise when my guards do a head count of my servants and find the two Starfleet ones are missing. It hurts to think someone would so viciously tear my beautiful children away from my family like that. And now a hole resides where my heart used to be."

Leonard wants to cry in relief. Xanders and Bradford got out; Berlin kept her word.

"The Yam'ier Faltice tells me, you are not helpful. And now you have stolen from me. You are far more trouble than you're worth. I'm a businessman first so I must find away to recoup my losses. You will go back on the auction block and become someone else's problem," says Hadeem with false sorrow. "And may our goddess Sandrit forgive your trespass and restore your soul in your new life."

Jim crosses school registration off his list. It's not the fancy private school Joanna attended in Atlanta but his schedule doesn't allow time to interview at a lot of schools. He basically only has two requirements: they'll take Joanna mid semester and location. Jocelyn agreed to oversee the moving of Joanna's personal items and to take care of the legal paperwork regarding custodial guardianship with a stern warning of Jim's head on a silver platter if anything should happen to her little girl over what will be a six month test run.

Jim's not sure any of this is a good idea but the train's already left the station and all he can really do now is go along with the ride. The other night wasn't Joanna's first disappearing act from home and Jim knows this particular story all too well to not want to try and change it. What exactly is he going to do with a teenager full time while juggling Leonard and a war though?

"Here's your class schedule," says Jim dropping the PADD on the kitchen table as he returns home. Leonard's happily munching on his little bite sized squares of grilled cheese sandwich Joanna prepared while Jim was out. It might be nice to have an extra set of hands to help out with Leonard more often at home.

Joanna picks it up, looking it over as she eats her grilled cheese sandwich. "Wait, this has a bunch of biology classes on it."

"The school councillor said they were good ones to take for future medical students," explains Jim.

"Who said I wanted to go to medical school?" asks Joanna defensively with that irritated scowl she seems to permanently wear these days.

"You did. It's always been a dream of yours to be a nurse or a doctor," bites Jim back defensively.

"Maybe I don't want to do that anymore," she says sullenly, pushing the PADD away like putting physical distance from it will change the situation.

"Okay?" says Jim, wonder exactly when that plan changed. "Do you have a plan?" Jim's never heard mention of anything else. The idea of lawyer was floated around but Jim's impression was that was more Jocelyn's hopes than Joanna's aspirations.

"I was thinking I'd join Starfleet. Serve on a ship or something like that."

Jim presses his lips together tightly. He can't say anything, since he's currently a member of Starfleet, that wouldn't come off as hypocritical, but he's not enthusiastic about the proposition. Maybe it's the current state of affairs in the universe and the fact that being involved in an active war with the Klingons makes being a part of Starfleet all the more dangerous, or maybe it's that Leonard made no secret of not wanting his little girl taking risks on a flying tin can to start with.

"It's all that was available on short notice, so you'll have to tough it out for the rest of the semester. If you feel that way after you can change your program next semester." It's a rather cowardice way out of the conversation but Jim's really hoping it's just a phase. He needs it to be phase. He doesn't want any harm to come to Joanna the way it did Leonard.

Jim's not paying attention as he heads down the hall; he's trying to work out the Klingon attack strategy for the Flartin system in his head and get down to Leonard's day care to deal with a meltdown the nurses commed him about. As a result he walks right into the only other person clearly not paying attention, knocking them both on their asses.

"Ouch," hisses the women rubbing her head where she collided with Jim.

"Shit. Sorry," mumbles Jim, scrambling to pick up the scattered PADDs that are spread across the floor.

"I think it might have been my fault," she says, accepting Jim's hand as he helps her to her feet and hands her some of the PADDs. "I'm Carol, by the way," she adds, shifting her arm load to offer her hand.

Jim tucks his PADDs under his arm and shakes her hand, getting his first real look at her. His mouth hangs open awkwardly for a moment as he takes in her beauty before realizing she's waiting for him to speak. "Jim, Jim Kirk."

"It's nice to finally meet you Captain Kirk," she says with a smile. "My father speaks highly of you," she clarifies.

Jim frowns. "Your father?"

"Ah, I see you've met my daughter, Carol," greets Admiral Marcus as he strolls up to the pair with his usual confident strut.

"We just met," says Carol.

"I was looking over your report this morning, Kirk. It's good work and I think you may be right about what the Klingons are planning. Perhaps we should talk about it some more in my office. I think Carol might be doing some research that might be of interest to you."

"I…" starts Jim, looking down the hall to the turbo lift. A meeting with Marcus to discuss his work could have an impact on this war, it could save lives. His finger taps against the back of the PADD. The nurse didn't say they couldn't handle Leonard right now, just that he might benefit from Jim stopping in. A conversation with the head of the military branch of Starfleet isn't an opportunity one should exactly squander.

Marcus looks down at his watch.

"Yes, sir," agrees Jim, following in step behind the Admiral and his daughter.

It's one thing to lead the charge, to dance on the razor's edge where angels fear to tread, it's another to order others to do it. Jim has complete faith in the Enterprise crew, he does, but his finger still hesitates before he taps the screen making the order official. He wants to be out there on the front lines with his friends and ship, keeping them safe. He wants to prevent another situation that leads to burying another friend like with Pike.

Jim's written and rewritten his letter for reinstatement a million times. He used to know exactly what his life was and now it's like he hit the pause button and everyone else moved on. What if he could make the difference between victory or defeat, between his crew making it home or not, and he's just sitting here strategizing and hypothesizing with the upper admiralty?

Jim stares at the letter every day. Then he thinks of Leonard and what happens if Jim chases his destiny back out into the stars. He puts the PADD back in his bottom desk drawer and tries to ignore the feeling of being useless that descends upon him.

Admiral Marcus's offer turns over in his head. It seems like the answer to all his problems but an unease grips him when plays the scenario out. Pike told him once that wearing the Captain's stripes meant he had to be better, better than himself, better than the job demands and better than the enemy would have you be. Pike's not here to tell him things like that anymore and the rage that surges under his skin like waves battering the shore in a storm blur the lines of morality.

He accepts Marcus's offer; he can always change his mind if the moment doesn't feel right. Until then, at least he'll be doing something that could save innocent people from this war thrust upon them, even if it's not the something that makes his soul soar. It's the change he desperately needs to sooth the itch that has been building the last few years.

"Wow, you look nice," says Jim as Joanna comes down the stairs in a pretty blue dress. It oddly works well with her now lilac colored hair streaks. "It's a little formal for movie night though, isn't it?" he asks as he steals a kernel of popcorn from Leonard's bowl as he holds it while Leonard situates himself on the couch.

"I'm not doing movie night, I'm going out remember," she says as she fusses with her hair in the hall mirror.

"Since when?" asks Jim, a little thrown.

"Since Wednesday when I asked you and you said yes," she replies coldly.

"I think I would remember that," counters Jim.

"You would think," says Joanna in a tone that's almost as constant as her scowl.

"Refresh my memory." Jim hands the bowl to Leonard. "Did you know about this?" he asks offhandedly. Leonard just takes a big handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth.

Joanna rolls her eyes. "Zach's family had to come to San Francisco for business and he said he would come with them and take me to my first school dance since I wasn't in Atlanta to go with him to ours. He's coming all the way here just for me." A slight blush starts to creep up her cheeks.

Jim's pretty sure he'd remember if a boy was coming from Atlanta to take Joanna out but a schools dance does ring some kind of bell. Is Joanna even old enough to be going to dances with boys? "And how were you getting there?" he asks feeling a little lost.

"Zach and his dad are coming to get me. His dad will be chaperoning the whole time and the dance is over at nine. Mom never had a problem with chaperoned outings."

Jim puts his hands up in surrender. "Have fun. We'll just be here watching…" Jim looks at the corner of the view screen for the movie title Leonard's selected. It's the next instalment of a nature documentary that Jim has a hard enough time staying awake through at the best of times. He's been running on fumes all week so he doubts he'll make it through the first fifteen minutes of the show.

Jim does make it through the first fifteen minutes; he makes it through the whole damn thing not that he watches it. He spends most of his time watching Joanna as she alternates between sitting on the stairs and checking the front door to see if her date has arrived. He checks the time and the dance is half over with no apparent word from Zach. Jim's not sure there's an excuse acceptable enough to not at least let Joanna know that he's running late.

"If he's running behind, I could take you to the dance and you can meet him there," offers Jim.

"I'm sure he'll be here any second," insists Joanna.

Leonard deposits his popcorn bowl on the coffee table, abandoning his pile of blankets to sit on the stairs next to Joanna's feet.

Jim sits on the couch feeling useless. He wracks his brain going over the labelled vids Leonard had left for Joanna but none of them were for first heart break. His own mother was pretty absent from his childhood so he doesn't exactly have a blueprint to follow in regards to good parenting. In fact the only adult that ever gave him good advice or had the right words in tough situations was Pike and Jim can't go to him for help and shamefully, can't remember any of the inspirational or comforting words themselves, just the feeling that everything was going to be alight. He can't even relate to this situation as kid going though their first rejection. Jim was the little shit standing up girls and seeing it from this side it feels pretty awful. A little voice whispers in the back of his mind that Bones would have known how to navigate this situation.

At eight-thirty, Joanna's com goes off and Jim waits with bated breath as she silently reads the message. "Shay said Zach's at the dance with someone else," she says quietly. She gets up, wearing every ounce of her dejection and heads upstairs. The house is eerily quiet except for Joanna's door slamming.

Leonard and Bones are the next to traipse upstairs but Jim can tell by the creaking in the floor, they've been denied entry to Joanna's room and simply go to bed instead. Jim cleans up the remnants of movie night while thinking of all the things he personally wants to do to the kid that ruined what should have been a magical moment for Joanna. He comes to the conclusion that phasering a child is pretty apprehensible, even if it is set to stun.

The cage is just as cramped as Leonard remembers it being. Fear and despair taint the air; the only thing that's different this time, is Leonard knows exactly what hell awaits him after he hits the auction block. The guards aren't overly concerned with their captive's well being, probably because most of them aren't there that long, being sold the first time they hit the block. Leonard's not stupid; he has a pretty decent handle on the language now and even if he didn't he can see the black mark on the data PADD hanging above his cage door. Leonard's black listed for sale.

He mildly entertains the idea of what will happen if they can't find a buyer for him. He supposes the real nightmare will be the master that believes he can rehabilitate Leonard into being a good little slave. Maybe he'll get lucky and die of starvation before he has to find out.

Regretfully Leonard isn't completely alone. He watched as Engineer Brite was brought in yesterday and shoved in a cage a row over. At first he was happy to see a member of his team still alive, then jealous that they were simply a seasonal sell, too many hands being sold off now that the harvest was over and not black listed like Leonard. Then came relief that he wasn't completely alone before the shame really started to set in, that he could be jealous or happy to have anyone join him in hell. Leonard just doesn't want to feel alone anymore.

He vaguely remembers a time when he wasn't alone; when he had friends and safety. Someone was supposed to save him now; someone with bright blue eyes and a smile that was both reassuring and troublesome. Not someone, Jim. Jim is coming to save him. Or maybe Jim was coming to save him; how long has it been? Leonard's thoughts circle the drain, a tidal wave turning over the pieces of who he used to be and who he is now. His divorce left him with only his bones but this place has sun bleached out every last shred of who he was. Maybe there's nothing left worth rescuing.

"There's my Doctor," whispers Berlin as she lowers the hood of her cloak and sits down cross-legged next to Leonard's cage.

"What are you doing here?" he asks panicked, heart fluttering in disbelief. Of all the places to see a familiar face, the cramped, cold storage room housing slaves for auction isn't where he hoped to see one.

"It's an auction house, buyers are allowed to look over the goods before bidding."

"Come to buy my freedom," he asks despondently. It's a prayer wrapped terribly in a joke that just doesn't carry.

Berlin gives him a sad smile. "Slave girls don't own slaves," she says apologetically, like that's the flaw in the system.

"Did you get my friends out?" he asks because something good has to come from all of this.

"They are far from Hadeem and on their way to a colony frequented by Federation officers. It will only be a matter of time until your people find them." She reaches under her cloak and pulls something out of the sparkly fabric underneath. Weaving her fingers between the bars, she drops it in Leonard's lap.

Leonard picks up what looks like a flat polished red stone turning it over in his hand.

"I have benefactor that will bid on you. I could not give him much credits. This is in case it is not enough. This will help us find you so you must hide it."

Leonard can't ignore the feeling that neither of them sees this turning out well for him. "Thank you," he says with the most reassuring smile he can force his dry cracked lips to form. "Maybe there's something you can do for me regardless of what happens here." Leonard reaches into his boot and pulls out his ring that he's been hiding. "Maybe you can hold on to this for me. In case something happens, find a way to get it to my friend Captain James Kirk. He'll get it to my daughter." It's a long shot, and Leonard's not going to delude himself into thinking it will ever grace Joanna's hand but he'd rather it be in Berlin's possession then ever think of it adorning one of these sadists' hands.

"How did you get that?" asks Berlin eyeing the ring. Something so precious and valuable isn't something that would be left with a slave.

"There was a bunch of jewellery lying on a bedside table one day when I was called in to do some examines. I thought I had lost it forever when they took all our belongings when we were first captured but there it was in Hadeem's possession. I snatched it and been hiding it ever since. Don't think that arrogant prick's even noticed it's missing."

"A thief and a doctor," says Berlin with a coy smile.

"I only took what's rightfully mine."

A heavy silence settles over them. That feeling of doom is whirling around Leonard's head again. He thinks of Brite and knows exactly what he's going to do with this transmitter. He does feel bad that he's going to rebuff Berlin's help once again. He has every reason to keep the transmitter and have Berlin try to rescue him later. No one would blame him. Yet, he can't bring himself to do it. The jobs not done until the people under his command are safe too. Berlin is taking one hell of a chance on him, one that he's passing on, but still feels the need to show his appreciation. "If you do make it to Earth one day, and I'm not the one who gets to show you Paris, tell Jim I told him to take you."

"You'll show me my name sake." She gives Leonard a little half smile that doesn't have the courage to light up her whole face. "You trust me?"

Trust is all he has left to give. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

Berlin chuckles to herself as she get up off the floor and walks out of Leonard's sight. There's creaking and rustling before she returns to her pervious spot. "Slide to here," she says patting the ground in the cage next to her. "Turn round and take your shirt off."

Leonard looks at her sceptically. "What are you going to do?"

She holds up a small jar and what looks like an old fashioned quill pen. "I'm going to draw one of our blessings on you. It will keep you safe."

Leonard isn't big on religion and he certainly doesn't believe in whatever deity Berlin warships, but he can use all the luck he can get and if it's important to her, he can play along. Leonard removes his shirt and presses up close to the bars, the coolness of them barely registering against his already goose bump prickled flesh. He almost jumps out of his skin as Berlin touches him with the quill. "Fuck. That burns!" he protests. It's like someone poured acid on his skin and he can't crawl far enough away to get escape the pain that lingers.

"Shhhh," shushes Berlin, looking around to see if any of the other slaves were disturbed by Leonard's cry. "This is important. You get used to the pain."

"I don't think so," he says cynically.

Berlin opens her cloak and rolls up her pant leg showing off the elegant iridescent tattoo running the length of her leg. "Don't be so childish."

He looks at the intricate designs running up her legs and shudders. Someone should have been teaching this girl how to do French braids and make blanket forts before tucking her safely in bed with thick fuzzy comforters instead of teaching her how to endure pain. He thinks of Joanna and is eternally grateful she's safe back home.

"You really think drawing pretty words on my back is going to keep me safe?" asks Leonard skeptically. He grits his teeth together as Berlin starts drawing again. He'll endure it because she wants it and he's already asked so much from her. But he didn't peg her for the overly religious type.

"I have to believe they will," she replies sadly. At the end of the day the only thing she has to show for her life of devotion and servitude is her belief.

"And this is your office," says Carol, cheerfully tapping the desk consol to change the windows from dark opeck to transparent so the light comes through. It illuminates the large space with that brand new sparkle. The desk screams opulence. It's an office that would get most bureaucrats hard and scream they have arrived at the top of their game.

The lustre doesn't reach Jim's eyes. It's a far cry from the mysticism of the Enterprise's captain's chair or the simulated glow of the bridge lighting. "It's all very impressive, Carol," says Jim with the fake smile that's become his armour. Everyone around him sees a position of respect and reverence; Jim sees a gilded cage and a short leash.

"Isn't it wonderful?" asks Carol. Her hands rub at Jim's shoulders as she leans in for a quick kiss.

Jim's starting to wonder if she didn't design it herself. "Yeah," he agrees, glad there isn't an airlock nearby to throw himself out of. He wonders what it must have been like growing up in a family that finds all this exhilarating. She doesn't seem this superficial and stuffy on their dates and late night work meetings that lead to a quick roll in the sheets.

"My office is next door," she adds, oblivious to the internal wails of his dying soul. "And this is your secretary Ms Janice Rand," she adds.

Jim turns quickly on his heels, surprised the blonde managed to sneak in. "Ms Rand," greets Jim with a nod.

"Please, call me Janice, sir," she protests timidly. "Can I get you anything?"

Jim extends his hand. "Jim."

"Janice, dear, why don't you get some tea for the Captain," orders Carol just as Janice extends her delicate hand to take Jim's.

"Yes ma'am," she replies, dutifully. She looks at Jim. "Captain." Then turns quickly to head out of the room.

"I don't even like tea," grumbles Jim. He wishes he had the enthusiasm for this job that Carol does but his heart will always belong to the Enterprise. He consoles himself with the notion that at least he's actually doing something productive for the war effort now instead of just analyzing and reporting, but he can't help but feel like a boardroom CEO rather than a Starfleet Captain.

Normally Leonard is wide eyed and happy when Jim picks him up from daycare and they walk through the atrium in Headquarters, enamoured with all the people hustling through their day but today he's hanging back, trailing behind Jim with his shoulders slumped and head down. The nurses assured him that Leonard was cooperative enough, he just seemed a little down. Jim would be more concerned if he didn't think this new despondency didn't coincide with Joanna's current misery. "Did you have a good day with Nurse Kathy?" asks Jim, hating having to talk over his shoulder.

Leonard just hums, rolling the hem of his shirt between his fingers.

Jim sighs. Joanna's heartbreak isn't exactly something he can fix but hopefully he can cheer Leonard up a little bit; staring at two sullen faces at dinner is more depression than Jim can take right now. "Do you want to stop and feed the ducks at the park before we go home?"

"No irds," whines Leonard shaking his head.

That catches Jim off guard. Besides feeding the birds in their own backyard, especially Boo, going to the park is Leonard's favourite activity. Jim stops walking, Leonard almost walking into him. "What about going to the bakery and getting those little jelly donuts you like?" he asks, a little desperately.

"No eat. No irds," says Leonard with a sad glint in his eye. "Hommme."

"Oh, Jim, I'm glad I ran into you," greets Carol in her usual bubbly tone.

"Carol," greets Jim as he feels Leonard grab a handful of shirt at his back. Jim frowns reaching behind him to try and subtly dislodge Leonard.

"I have some things I want to go over about phase one of our project," she says, confusion rippling across her face as Jim keeps prying his companions hands away.

Jim notices the hesitant look, realizing that Carol is the first work colleague he's had in a long time that never knew Leonard. "Carol this is Leonard McCoy. Leonard, this is my work friend Carol." It's mostly true except he supposes they're kind of dating since Carol became such a prominent and unexpected fixture in his life beyond home.

"Oh, yes the legendary CMO, Dr McCoy who used to serve under you on the Enterprise. It's an absolute pleasure," says Carol, extending her hand out towards Leonard.

Leonard glances up through his bangs to subtly scrutinize Carol before taking a step behind Jim. She stands there awkwardly with her hand out and a smile that starts off genuine but is becoming a little too forced the longer Leonard avoids shaking her hand.

Jim shakes his head, stepping to the side to so Leonard can't hide behind him. "She's a friend," insists Jim, but Leonard won't engage in the interaction. "He's playing shy," explains Jim by way of apology.

"Oh. Oh."

"Yeah. "What was it you wanted to go over?" he asks distracted by fussing over Leonard.

"I was hoping we could go over a few things, say over dinner?"

"Hommmme!" protest Leonard.

"Um, yeah, just mark something in my schedule for next week." Leonard grabs a hold of Jim's sleeve and begins to pull Jim along towards their usual path towards the exit like Carol is an obstacle to go around. "Sorry, I have to go," says Jim as he's dragged along.

When they're out of earshot, Jim asks, "What was that?"

"Home," insists Leonard, scowling back in Carol's direction.

"I do have a job you know," counters Jim rather exasperated. "And it's rather important right now, what with a war going on. And I can have friends." It's been a long time since Jim can say he's had a friend. Leonard isn't his best friend anymore, not in the way Jim needs and the others, while supportive, are off on the Enterprise. It's nice to have someone close, some that doesn't look at him with pity for what happened or admiration for dealing with the fall out of what happened. Carol sees Jim for who Jim is right now and it's a breath of fresh air.

Leonard stands there looking rather unimpressed. "Home. Bones. Hmmm ird."

"Joanna," corrects Jim, offhandedly. It's been awhile since Leonard defaulted to Joanna's nickname and usually only when he feels particularly stressed or upset. "She'll be okay, you know. We've all survived our first brush with love. It just takes awhile," he adds a bit more earnestly.

"Wait here," adds Jim, movement down the hall catching his eye. He leaves Leonard in the lobby, jogging to catch up with what looks like the lunch time class tour that's scheduled for today as part of school outreach program to entice kids into a career in Starfleet.

Jim catches up to the group but hangs back as the tour guide rambles on about various facts and interests about the building and some of the positions that work out of HQ. His eyes stay focused on the group of four boys standing off to the back making snide comments and whispering to entertain one another with feigned disinterest in a bid to appear cool to.

He's never officially met the kid but he did see him on vid chat with Joanna a couple of time and the more he watches the cocky showing off of the kid to his friends, the more he's convinced it's Zach in the flesh. The tour guide starts to lead the group down the hall and Jim seizes the opportunity, stepping in front of the straggling group of boys. "Zach Marlez?" he asks, arms crossed and eyes of steel.

"Yeah," answers Zach with false bravado.

"The Zach that made a promise to Joanna McCoy and failed to deliver?" Jim barely gives the kid time to answer yes before he continues on his best Captain's voice. "It's considered poor manners to stand up a girl, especially for such an important event." Leonard strolls up beside Jim but he doesn't acknowledge Leonard's presence, though he swears he catches Leonard glaring at Zach.

"Something better came along," says Zach with a smirk and the chuckles of his friends to back him up.

Jim leans right into Zach's personal space, his face mere inches from Zach's. "I've got something better too. It involves shoving you into a torpedo and firing you at a Klingon barge if you ever make Joanna shed a single tear again. I can do it. I'm Captain James T Kirk and I've got just the ship to carry it out on." He refrains from smiling as Zach shrinks in on himself and stands there glaring long after the boys slink away. It's not a phaser, but it's pretty satisfying all the same.

Leonard gives Jim a disapproving look as the boys run away.

"Don't look at me like that. I used my words," defends Jim. Leonard still looks unimpressed with Jim's display of threatened violence. "I've heard you threaten ensigns with hypos before, don't pretend you wouldn't have done the same. Come on, let's go home. Joanna gets home from school in a few hours."

Jim checks the time again before flipping the last pancake out of the pan. He contemplates calling up the stairs again but imagines he'll just get the usual brush off. Somehow cheerfulness has been replaced with sullenness in their home. He glances over at the kitchen table; at least Leonard is almost done with breakfast and will be ready to leave on time- the rest of them, not so much.

Footsteps echo down the stairs as Joanna stomps from the bathroom back to her bedroom before hitting the stair case. "What color is her hair going to be today?" Jim asks Bones in a low whisper as the dog sits patiently by Leonard's chair yet keeping a weathered eye on Jim in case he should drop something from the pan. The dog just cocks his head to the side in response.

It isn't the soft lilac color in Joanna's hair, which is a more toned down choice from the bubble gum pink it was the day before, that catches Jim's attention as she throws her school bag on the counter, it's the all the skin that the incredibly short skirt and barely there shirt is failing to conceal. "What are you wearing?" he chokes.

Joanna looks down at herself like she doesn't know what Jim's referring to. "Clothes," she snaps in that ever present tone that sets Jim on edge.

"There's not enough fabric there to constitute clothes," he counters. He knows exotic dancers that wear more than Joanna has on now.

She rolls her eyes. "This is the new fashion trend coming out this summer."

"It's only spring."

"I can choose what I want to wear."

"You're school has a dress code. And if it doesn't, this house does and the main one is no one should see what color undergarments you're wearing. There's a time and a place, Joanna and school is not the place and fifteen will never be the time!"

"There are cultures that don't believe in clothing," counters Joanna. "I'd be way over dressed there."

"And when you're eighteen, you can go live there. Until then, go change!" says Jim gesturing for her to turn around and walk back upstairs. He doesn't need the school contacting him about another infraction when she's already on thin ice from the last infraction and he certainly doesn't need a fifteen year old child pretending to be an adult.

Leonard looks up from his breakfast as Joanna slams her backpack against the table for dramatic effect before stomping back up stairs. He looks Jim right in the eyes and defiantly pushes his plate off the table. It smashes with a clang sending bits of pancake and gooey syrup dancing across floor.

"You're cleaning that up," says Jim as Bones begins lapping up Leonard's mess, tail wagging. He checks the time again; none of them will be on time today.

Jim's angry; he's more than angry, he's livid. His to do list is never ending, with presentations and meetings to attend and the one thing he thought he could count on was Joanna going to class but it seems that was too big a hope. It's already eight o'clock by the time Jim checks his messages and finds one from the school reporting her truancy for a number of days, including today which is weird because Jim dropped her off personally this morning. The only thing that's keeping him from busting in the front door in a fiery rage is the fact that she did show up to collect Leonard this afternoon and take him home.

Jim had been hesitant about the arrangement at first. Leonard still has days where he proves to be more than a handful and Joanna is barely old enough to be home alone to start with, that the idea of Joanna babysitting for a few hours after school until Jim came home around dinner seemed problematic. But Joanna had always been mature and responsible for her age, so Jim gave it a shot so he could devote more time to work. He thought it had been going well but this latest revelation suggests Joanna isn't mature enough to left to her own devices.

The house is quiet when he gets home and his gut sinks with the possibility that Leonard and Joanna aren't even there. Relief escapes him as he spots the dinner dishes stacked on the counter and Bones traipsing out of the bedroom to the top of the stairs to look down at Jim wagging his tail. Jim drops his stuff on the table and heads up stairs, scratching the dog's head as he walks past.

He leans against the door frame to Joanna's bedroom and silently watches as she reads from her biology text book to Leonard who's curled up next to her on the bed. It's not the usual word building children's stories they read to Leonard but he seems enamoured with it anyways. It's probably all the pictures and the steady rhythm of Joanna's voice over the actual content.

Joanna finishes the chapter and looks up at Jim over the edge of the PADD.

"How was school today?" he asks, calmly, prepared to give her all the rope she needs to hang herself with.

"Fine," she replies, nonchalantly, like the word is hanging heavy with lies.

"You're grounded," states Jim, without inflection. He can add lying to her list of offences.

"For what? I didn't do anything!" argues Joanna, rather affronted.

Jim keeps his voice level; fighting only seems to agitate Leonard and it's so close to his bed time that Jim just wants to end the day as smoothly as possible. "The school called. What do you think they had to say about how today went?"

She tosses the PADD to the foot of the bed and crosses her arms. "Fine. How long am I grounded?" she demands.

"Two weeks," says Jim before marching back downstairs to his office. He tries to remind himself of all the stupid asinine things he pulled as a kid and how ditching class doesn't even begin to touch his misdeeds but there's just more at stake in this situation. Jim just had his life to mess up, which never really had a direction or potential until Pike intervened. This is Leonard's little girl who has so much potential to do anything that Jim can't let her falter, not to mention that the ramifications of his and Joanna's actions ripple onto Leonard.

Jim should have noticed the ravens circling the house, instead the only warning he has is the foreboding feeling he gets as he walks into the house. It's his three second warning before he catches sight of the blond casually reading in the arm chair in the living room. "Where's Joanna?" asks Jim as he sets his work case on the hall table before walking into the living room. The house is eerily quiet considering her and Leonard should be around somewhere. Joanna still has another week of her sentence to serve.

"Ah, the child you have living with you? The one you didn't tell me you have," says Winona as she puts a bookmark in the old fashioned paperback she was reading. "Imagine my surprise when a colleague of mine talks about how proud I must be at my granddaughter's preliminary Starfleet entrance scores. And all I could say was my granddaughter is five and in no position to take a high school exam. Can you imagine finding out that way, Jim?" she asks in a rather put-upon tone.

"Hello, mom. Nice of you to drop by," says Jim, kissing the top of her head as he passes by to sit on the couch. "I was going to tell you when things got settled around here."

"Things haven't settled in the last seven years?" she asks sagely.

It hits Jim like a sledgehammer to the chest. He's closing in on a decade without his best friend. Eight years with the stars above and no ship to steer. He looks around the living room, of a home he returns to everyday, to see the pictures and memories of not only himself but the trio, the family they've formed. He's not sure he even recognizes his life anymore. "How would you know if you haven't been back in all that time?" bites Jim. He purses his lips in a vain attempt to hold back the words that have already taken flight. "Technically Sam is still the only one to give you grandchildren. Joanna is Leonard's daughter."

Winona sighs, sitting up straighter. "What are you doing here, Jim?"

"Coming home after a long day," he says tiredly. He can feel every minute of that day weighing down on him and doesn't need this interrogation and clearly condemnation over everything he's put together. He makes a mental note to talk to Joanna about letting judgemental strangers into their home, even if they claim familial bonds.

"I'm talking about this playing house," she accuses. "Jo's a bright girl, she deserves better than being part of some pet project to ease misplaced guilt."

"That's not what this is," snaps Jim, though he's not entirely convinced it isn't.

She cautions, "You're impulsive and reckless and you can be neither when children are involved." The situation is an abstract form of convention and out of both her children, Jim has never been the one to steer towards convention. Jim just doesn't sustain things long term. He flies by night, always landing on his feet but the world around him often burns.

Jim gnashes his teeth together. True or not, it irks him that his mother who blows through his life on random whims already assumes that he isn't able to handle this, couldn't possibly hold together a family the same way Sam, the golden child could. She's always assumed success for Sam and failure for Jim.

Winona gets up, crossing the room to kneel in front of Jim, taking his hand in hers. "It's not a bad thing honey, you were just made for something else." She runs her fingers through his hair.

Jim knows he's in the shadow of greatness; he's always dwelled in someone else's shadow. Leonard just had a way of making being a parent look easy; a natural tendency to care for people, body and soul. Jim will never be that, but he's gotten them this far. "You can make that call from all the child rearing experience you have?" he asks, refusing to give into the soft touches and day late mothering attempts.

The abrasive sound of flesh striking flesh reverberates off the walls as Winona raises her hand and slaps Jim across the face. "That was different," she snarls. "I lost George. You're doing this because you feel guilty and when it all blows up other people are going to pay the price. Don't throw your life away for some boy," she warns.

Jim rubs at the stinging tingle blossoming in his cheek. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. And it's not like that." He's not throwing his life away for some boy. This is Leonard. It's not some puppy love thing; he most certainly doesn't love Leonard like that. He loved Leonard like a brother. Leonard was the only one besides Pike that looked at Jim like he belonged at Starfleet, that he was more than a womanizing hick with a rap sheet longer than his arm and a famous last name. Leonard looked out for Jim and believed in him enough to trust him with his only child. How can Jim not return the favour?

Winona's stay is brief, lasting only a week before she answers the call to return to the black. Joanna seemed to enjoy the attention; Winona behaving like a surrogate grandparent in her presence despite the misgivings she freely voices around Jim. Leonard spent the time poking around in the garden out back. Jim thinks he was probably the smartest out of all of them.

He takes his morning coffee and sits out on the porch watching Leonard muck. He can feel the relief of Winona leaving push the weight off his shoulders. It's not that he doesn't love his mother or his brother for that matter, they're just tolerable in small doses. The Kirks have always been pieces of the same puzzle, just from different sides of the puzzle.

Leonard sprinkles handfuls of seeds on the dirt, then kicks a fine skiff of dirt over the seeds. Jim's pretty sure they won't grow, most of them getting eaten by the birds but it seems to make Leonard happy. He know Joanna comes out and actually properly plants a few things so when summer comes around there will actually be flowers and vegetables in the garden for Leonard to tend.

He laughs to himself as Leonard fumbles with the watering can, getting more water on the ground around the tap than in the can before spilling what little he does have on his way to his seeds. "Do you want some help with that?" he calls out.

Leonard shakes his head, reinforcing his latest independence streak.

Time seems meaningless and the weight of the world miles away as Jim loses himself in the warm softness of Carol's lips. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow night," purrs Carol as she steals one last kiss before her polished finger tips trail down Jim's arm for ever last minute of contact as she descends from the front porch.

"Yeah, tomorrow," agrees Jim. Normally this would be the time he invited the girl in for a weekend of breakfast in bed and fancy extravagant dinners at local hot spots; there would be no parting until Monday. Instead Jim stands on the porch while Carol drives off.

Bones comes bounding around the side of the house with Leonard hot on his heels. Jim's ready to switch gears and slip into easy normal but one look at Leonard and he knows his day's not over. "What happened to your hair?" he ask, taking in the almost neon pink color.

"'Oanna help," replies Leonard happily.

"I bet she did," says Jim keeping his frustration restrained.

Leonard and Bones bound through the front door, racing to the kitchen to await their afternoon snack and to help get ready for dinner, with Jim trailing in after them. "Joanna!" calls Jim.

She comes bounding down the stairs, the smile vanishing from her face as she takes in Jim's frown. Rolling her eyes, she asks, "What did I do now?"

Jim follows her into the kitchen where she pours out a bowl of sugary cereal for Leonard to munch on. "What happened to Leonard's hair?" he asks, taking the bowl away from Leonard and trading him for an apple.

"Isn't it awesome," she says proudly.

"No, not awesome. It's one thing if you want to color your hair ever five minutes but leave Leonard's alone. He's not some doll you can make up."

"He picked the color out himself. I didn't do anything he didn't want," defends Joanna, handing Leonard a cookie.

Jim crosses his arms. He's not sure when care giving became a group discussion but he's not in the mood. He needs to know Joanna can be responsible in her afterschool duties or if he has to make other arrangements. "I don't think Leonard understands the ramifications, do you?"

Joanna turns to face Jim, leaning against the counter with taunting casualness. "And what are the ramifications? Does the house now have a dress code involving Leonard's hair?" she asks with a dramatic eye roll. She thought only her mother and her stuffy socialite friends obsessed over appearances but apparently it's all adults.

"How about tomorrow when he doesn't like pink and has a meltdown. Or wakes up and forgets about it when he looks in the mirror and has a meltdown. Or any of the other adverse reactions he'll have when I can't change it right away? Did you think about any of that or the people that will have to deal with the fall out?" Jim demands, because if it's not him cleaning up this mess it will be one of the unfortunate nurses running the care center at HQ.

Joanna hits him with a haunting look, one that Leonard used to wear so well when he thought Jim was running low on brain cells. "You don't have to talk about Leonard like he's not in the room. If you were around more, you'd know he understands things a lot better than even you give him credit for," says Joanna coldly, grabbing a box of crackers out of the cupboard as she starts to head back upstairs. "Oh, and it washes out. You just have to get it wet and it's gone. Meltdown adverted."

Jim deflates. Every interaction with Joanna feels like a high stakes chess match but he doesn't know what the winner gets. Perhaps he jumped into this whole thing out of pride or guilt? He certainly didn't have the skills to take on a child or Leonard for that matter. Joanna is the one thing he can't falter in, yet he's getting it all wrong.

He looks up feeling Leonard's eyes on him. Part of Jim hopes for some sage advice, a pearl of wisdom Leonard has been holding onto for just this occasion but Leonard just sits there holding his plate out to remind Jim it's dinner time. "Do you want hamburgers tonight?"

Leonard sticks his tongue out in disapproval.

"That sounds about right." Jim bangs his head against the counter. He's spread too thin and everything feels like a fight. Maybe the whole thing has been a mistake. "You left me alone, you know. You used to be the one I would come to for advice in these situations or at least come to commiserate with. I don't like being the one that gets left," complains Jim but Leonard just stares at him blankly. It feels like he's been left behind a lot lately. First he lost his friend and confidant, then his command, then his friends left to continue on with their careers and lives and then Pike left. And where's Jim? Still stuck in that aimless space between what he wants and what he's left with. It's not exactly the cornfields of Iowa this time, but it might as well be; he's traded cornfields for mountains and trees when all he wanted was stars.

Carol's riding high on success and Jim's happy to be swept up in that bliss. Preliminary simulations support the practical testing of phase one, green lighting the project. It seems like the perfect excuse to head home early for a change and celebrate.

"Let me help you with those," giggles Carol as she watches Jim juggle the packages of takeout up the porch stairs only to fumble with the door.

"I got it," assures Jim as the front door opens. "Leonard. Jo. I'm home and I brought dinner and company," shouts Jim as the pair enter the house. Jim leads Carol to the kitchen, only to stop short when an unfamiliar boy is standing in his way. "Uh, hi?" says Jim dumbfounded as he glances around the kitchen for the people that should be in his house.

"Hey," replies the boy with an acknowledging nod, stuffing cookies in his mouth before sauntering into the living room.

"Joanna!" shouts Jim even louder than before.

"You're home early," says Joanna peeking over the edge of the couch along with yet another boy.

Leonard peeks around the side of the couch from where he's sitting on the floor and Jim breathes a sigh of relief that the people he's in charge of are all accounted for and then some. "A word, Jo," says Jim, beckoning her into the kitchen.

Joanna gets up with an eye roll and shuffles into the kitchen. "Oh pizza," she says lifting the lid of one of the take out boxes.

Jim asks a little exasperated, "Who are these kids?" Jim's the first to confess he's not an encyclopaedia of Joanna's social circle but he's familiar with a few names of friends she's made at her new school and none of them have been boys so far. "And what are they doing here?"

"We're just hanging out. In case you haven't noticed there isn't exactly a lot to do out here if you're not into bird watching or gardening. And it's Billy and Jib, some of the few kids at school that actually talk to me," she answers defensively.

"Jib's Orion," hisses Jim, glancing back into the living room where Leonard is still sitting.

"What gave it away," says Joanna sarcastically. When Jim doesn't smile or look embarrassed she adds, "It that a problem? Gaila and Thai are Orion."

Jim's speechless as his mind tries to work out why it bothers him. It's not like Leonard or he haven't been around Orions since Leonard was rescued and as Joanna was quick to point out Gaila and Thai have been around without incident. One of the nursing students that volunteers at the care center is Orion and Leonard seems at ease with her. Still there's something in Jim's gut that makes him weary. Maybe it's because Joanna only knows a highly watered down and sanitized version of what happened to her father or the fact that this kid who probably is nothing like the salvers is in Jim's house and around Leonard without Jim's knowledge. "I'm just not comfortable with a bunch of kids over."

"So you're the only one that gets to have friends over?" demands Joanna looking pointedly at Carol.

"I just want to know who's coming and going. Especially since you're in charge of Leonard from after school until dinner. Tonight we were coming home to celebrate as a family and now there're extra people."

"Leonard's fine," counters Joanna. "It's not like I left him alone and took off. I made my friends come here. If you were around more, I could ask but you're not, and when I do comm. you I have to go through your secretary. And since when is she family?" She stands there a little breathless, the words flowing off her tongue like a raging waterfall.

"Carol's achievement is why we have cause to celebrate and she's a part of my life, which is not up for discussion," says Jim, voice tight from restraint. It was supposed to be a nice evening but like everything it's turned into another fight.

"Whatever," mutters Joanna, storming back into the living room. Jim can't hear what she tells the boys but they get up, glaring in Jim's general direction before leaving. Angry footsteps echo from the stairs as Joanna stomps upstairs and slams the bedroom door.

"I'm sorry," says Jim quietly. "I promised you a nice dinner to celebrate and you get this."

"It's fine," assures Carol. "We can still pop the champagne."

Somehow, starring at the computer isn't making the daily briefing report magically appear. Jim lets out a long dramatic sigh. It's hard to keep busy doing busy work when the Enterprise is overdue for their check in. He tries not to dwell on worst case scenarios. Spock is an excellent captain and with the exception with the very start of the war, has maintained the lowest causality rate out of any ship currently engaged with the Klingons.

Markus has all but banned Jim from asking for updates from communications regarding the Enterprise due to several complaints about Jim's persistence and frequent request hindering their other assignments. Jim hides away in his office instead. It's better for moral if he's not biting off heads out of his own frustration rather than officers' own incompetence.

"Jim!" calls Carol, bursting in through the officer doors with a bewildered and irritated Janice trying to run her down.

Jim waves Janice off; nothing seems to slow Carol down when she's stoked about a project. "We're all set to start phase one next week on Realto Nine. I want you to come with me."

Jim shakes his head. "That's three days, Carol. You know I can't do that." Jim feels like a broken comm. transmission rapidly bouncing around the cosmos.

"You're technically supervising the project. You should be there to see it. We've worked so hard on it," reminds Carol with a pout.

Part of Jim wants to go, to see that moment where the course of the project will be decided. If it fails, it's back to the drawing board, if it succeeds, and Jim believes it will, it could be the first step in ending the war. His eyes fall to the picture on the corner of his desk of Leonard and Joanna at the fair the first time she came to visit Leonard at the academy. "You'll be there. I trust the experiment will be safe in your capable hands but I can't just pick up and leave."

"We can hire a nurse to stay with them. I'm sure I could convince my father to authorize twenty-four hour care here if you prefer the day care services at HQ. You can leave them you know," she says seriously.

"I know," counters Jim, trying to ignore that sinking feeling in his gut. He hasn't been anywhere he couldn't get back to Leonard within a couple of hours since Pike rescued him from the slavers. "I just… can't."

"At least tell me you'll watch the live feeds from the Titan station?"

Jim puts on a fake smile. "That I can do." The station is half a day away. He can be there be back home before Leonard goes to bed. That only leaves six hours between school and Jim's return home. How much trouble could they possibly get into?

Carol tips her head to the side as she mulls over the idea. "Alright," she agrees giving Jim a kiss. She pauses just before the officer door. "You know, if you don't start taking a more active and present role around here, you're career is going to stall again," she cautions.

"I know," mutter Jim, checking for the latest ship updates.

Jim wipes his brow as he drops the last bag of gardening supplies at the bottom of the porch. It's the lack of chirping that catches his attention. Glancing around there are no birds at any of the feeders, in fact the feeders are empty. It's not like Leonard to leave the feeders empty but it's not part of their routine that Leonard has to fill them. Maybe Leonard's no longer interested in the birds.

Jim heads up on the deck and pulls out one of the birdseed containers. It only takes a handful of seed in two feeders before the birds return to the yard filling the summer afternoon with song. Jim fills the rest and heads back in the house to grab himself a glass of water.

He comes back outside to see Leonard shooing the birds away from the feeders and throwing the seeds out onto the grass. It's odd but he's not sure what alarm it should be raising. "Did the birds do something?" he asks.

Leonard startles, surprised that Jim's outside. He looks sadly out towards the lawn where the birds are frantically trying to salvage their meal. "Rrrrds be fee," he says sadly before heading out to the garden.

"The birds are free," whispers Jim a little miffed.

"What happened?" shouts Jim, announcing his and Carol's arrival as he walks in soaking wet and dripping water on the floor from the raging storm outside. His anger cracks through the house like lightening.

Joanna shrinks slightly. "I came down stairs to make dinner for us and Leonard was gone. I searched every closet, under the beds around the house and even the barn. There's no sign of him and Bones is gone too," she says, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"When was the last time you saw him," says Jim, already in the throes of tearing through the house in case Joanna missed something.

"He was down here with you when you left," replies Joanna.

When he left; he left for dinner three hours ago. "He went out to feed the birds before I left." Jim looks out the window being pelted by rain and watches the trees bow and sway under the unrelenting wind. No one should be out in this weather. He glances at the open closest door; Leonard's jacket isn't there. "You didn't come down and check on him at all after I left?" Frustration is coloring his words delivering them with a harshness the situation doesn't need. It's the only thing keeping him from tumbling into despair.

"Jim, calm down," pleads Carol, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Biting off people's heads won't help."

Jim rolls his shoulder to dispel her hand. He wants to be mad; he wants to scream and rage until the universe bows down to his might and makes Leonard appear, safe and unharmed, as some sort of peace offering for the constant misery its dumped upon them all.

"I had to comm. everyone and tell them I wasn't coming tonight. I got busy and then I fell asleep," snaps Joanna in return. They both glare at each other. So preoccupied with the necessities in their own lives, Leonard managed to slip through the cracks.

"He shouldn't be out in this," says Jim, focusing back on the window. He grabs his own coat. Leonard isn't going to suffer alone again; not while Jim has breath in his body. "Carol, I need you to comm. emergency services in town and tell them we need help locating a missing person. I'm going to go out and look for him."

"I want to go with you," says Joanna as Jim laces up his boots.

"Stay here," snaps Jim, more gently adding, "in case he comes back." He doesn't need to worry about Joanna's safety while he's out there. And who knows what he's going to find.

Turns out it's Zambay, a twenty night long celebration of all the good fortune bestowed upon the houses by the gods themselves and the honoured guests of Ma'ltic are planning to stay for all of it. As a result of the festivities, Leonard finds himself chained up outside in the barn most nights, despite how cold it's getting. Pneumonia probably would be a blessing, and a hell of a lot faster than this slow torturous death he's living.

His poor sleep is interrupted by the constant screams and protests of one of his fellow slaves in the next stall over. He rolls over and covers his ears with his arms so as not let chain tethering his wrists together rest on his face and expose him to the frigid coldness of the metal. It doesn't drown out the cries nearly enough.

The guards are probably just having a little fun with one of the prisoners. It's easy to get board on night guard duty and they usually find one poor soul that will satisfy their sadistic blood lust by apply a little pressure and attention to them. Leonard's found himself the center of their sports before, but he's long forgotten how to cry which ruins the game for them. Their newest victim seems all too able to cry.

Leonard stares blankly at the rooting wood roof. Selfishly he just wants whoever it is to shut up. Days are mercilessly long and nights painfully short around here; the five hours of rest the slaves are allowed isn't nearly enough and those few precious moments of respite are being stolen.

He still feels guilt; they haven't beaten that out of him yet. He knows once upon a time he would have done something about those frantic and desperate cries. The hero in him died when they cut out a chunk of Ra'tier's brain. He won't get involved again, he won't lose another friend.

Except that he might, because he recognizes that voice. The voice belongs to someone who trusted him, who he was responsible for. It takes almost more effort than Leonard has to give, but he forces his sore and battered body to sit up, grimacing the whole way. He makes his way unsteadily to the end of his stall and glances around. It isn't a pack of guards tonight, rather just one- and not even a guard at all.

One of the masters has Molly cornered, holding her down on a pile of dried grass, trying to rip her dress off while she flails wildly. Leonard can't see which master is attempting to plunder her, his back is to Leonard, but he has a clear view of Molly's terrified face.

"Please, help me!" she begs, locking eyes with Leonard and refusing to let go.

Something flickers deep inside Leonard. He doesn't want to see this; Molly doesn't deserve this or any part of this hell. Leonard hangs his head in shame. The only thing he can do is look away.

Maybe not though. As he turns to take refuge in his little corner of hell, his body refuses to move. He should go back to sleep, ignore the horrors around lest they befall him but he can't. Nothing good will come from intervening. They'll probably both be skinned alive for refuting Sandrit's will. Still, Leonard's cracked and callused hands search out the thick iron watering bucket and bring it down on the Ta-I's head with a sickening crack.

Molly is quick to push the limp body off of her, scrambling back like his skin is acidic to the tough. "Thank you, Leonard."

Leonard just stares at his hands like they've betrayed him. "Is he dead?" he mumbles.

"Who cares," says Molly as she frantically works on loosening the ropes binding her wrists. She's right; the punishment for such a crime will be swift and brutal regardless if the Ta-I lives or dies. "We have to escape," she says sagely, grabbing Leonard by the wrist once her own restraints are dealt with.

Leonard yanks his hands away. He hates to be toughed now; contact only brings pain. The thought of escape is so preposterous, he laughs. It's small at first, building until it's a maniacal chuckle that wracks his whole body. Where could they possibly go? The planet is mostly inhabitable desert or dense jungle filled with untold things waiting to eat them. There's no survival if they can't get off this rock and transport is impossible.

"We have to go," Molly says again, desperate to penetrate the fog stunning Leonard. With shaking hands she tries to pick the lock on Leonard's metal restraints using a splinter of wood she pries from a rotting post.

"What for?" demands Leonard. There is no escape for them and running just sounds exhausting at this point.

"Leonard," she says cautiously, "we have to get off this planet. We have to get back home."

Home- is that what the place before here was? Someone was waiting for him back home. He's here because people had to go back home- it was his job to make sure they got back home. It's like a lightning bolt; the memory of going back for Xanders and Clark, the need to get on the shuttle.

Leonard grabs a hold of Molly's wrists, stopping her efforts at picking the locks. "There's a shuttle at the end of the compound and no guards for it. If you hurry you can make it there and fly it off this planet before anyone knows you're gone. It has cloaking technology, so they won't be able to follow you."

Molly lights up. "Okay. We just have to free you first."

"No," says Leonard pulling his hands away. There isn't time to try and pick his locks. Someone is bound to come looking for the Ta-I and when they find his body any chance of escape is gone. "One of us has to stay behind or neither of us gets to go home."

"I'm not leaving you here," insists Molly, fighting to reach Leonard's shackles again.

"You're going. Get to the nearest planet that has a temple for Sandrit or to Betox and the market there. There's a green shop front next to the Padra noodle stand. Ask for Berlin. The slave girls there will get a message to her. She's a friend and she'll help get you out."

Molly looks pained as she says, "I'm not leaving you."

"You have to. That's an order Ensign."

Reluctantly, Molly heads out in the night to make her way across the compound and to a ship that can take her home.

The rain hits Jim like icy bullets. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself as he treks off down one of the tails near the back of the property. All the rain has added volume and speed to the creek which is more like a raging river. With several of the make shift bridges washed out, Jim has to go far off the beaten trail to find alternate crossing points. He just hopes it was enough to dissuade Leonard from coming this way.

That thought dies as he hears Bones's frantic barks in the distance. Jim double times it, slipping and stumbling along the wet and muddy ground. "Leonard! Bones!" he shouts, praying for some sign they're alright.

The brush clears, giving way to a flooded field causing Jim to slide to an abrupt stop, wobbling to keep his balance. The water is knee height but the current is strong, far too strong it seems for Bones to make it back to solid ground from the small hill in the middle of the field that has now turned into an island.

"Leonard!" shouts Jim, frantic; eyes darting around the surrounding area for any sign of his friend.

Bones barks, stomping his paws at the grassy edge of his natural lifeboat. He paces back and forth, judging the depth and flow of the water and its impassibility before going back to the edge to sit and whine at Jim.

"Are you okay, boy?" Bones wouldn't willingly leave Leonard. Jim can find no cause for concern with Bones other than being trapped. There's no sign of Leonard and Jim's uncertain if that's a good sign here or not. "Hang on, I'm coming."

He grabs the nearest branch and carefully lowers himself into the water. He lets out an audible gasp as the chill from the water shoots through to the bone, spilling over the tops of his boots and soaking his pant legs. Slowly and hesitantly he takes a step forward, careful to mind his footing as the water threatens to knock him over. Falling would be disastrous, not only from the cold but the current would probably sweep him away towards the even faster moving original creek bed. Hanging on to the branch as long as possible, he shuffles out far enough that he has to let go of the only anchor he has.

Bones whines impatiently, pawing at the water's edge.

"Just hang on," cautions Jim. It's slow going but Jim makes it to the elevated spot. Bones greets him enthusiastically, licking his face and pawing to be picked up. Jim ruffles the fur on the top of Bones's head, asking softly, "What happened to him, boy?"

Bones lets out a desperate cry, wagging his tail. Jim looks back. The smart thing to do would be to go back. It's not safe to traipse around here on foot with the water rising and cutting new paths. Leonard wouldn't be able to cross anyways in areas that are washed out, but what if Leonard passed through here before the water rose. Jim scoops up Bones and wades across to the other shore. He has to keep going.

"Where did he go, Bones?"

The dog barks, thrilled to be back on safe ground before bounding forward into the bush. Jim squints against the rain. "Wait up!" he calls, trekking after the dog. Bones bolts along, nose to the ground, in search of his charge.

The wind howls, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter of Jim's teeth. His feet and hands have long since gone numb but he keeps putting one foot in front of the other. Visibility is growing worse as the sun starts to set somewhere behind the unrelenting wall of black clouds making it even darker. He knew Leonard was upset with him earlier this evening but Leonard's never run away before. And run away to what? Jim racks his brain. Joanna is Leonard's comfort when he's irritated with Jim. Through the maze of swaying trees and thick rain droplets, Jim realizes where Bones is leading him- the duck pond.

The revelation is short lived as Bones starts barking, sitting next to something and sweeping his tail back and forth. "What do you have there?" Jim reaches out and frees the swath of fabric from the wooden teeth holding it in a tangle of foliage.

Jim's heart sinks as he holds up what used to be part of Leonard's jacket. "Leonard! If you can hear me, make some noise!" The forest is deathly silence in return. Fighting back the bush, Jim passes through, coming to a steep edge that leads down to the raging water. "No. no, no, no, no," he mumbles, see the disturbed dirt down the hillside. Something took a tumble down the embankment.

The embankment is too steep to walk along the water's edge and there's no other sign of Leonard down there, leaving two options: either Leonard didn't fall in or the water has swept him down stream. Jim runs along the edge of the hill, desperately searching for any sign of Leonard; praying it's not too late. "Leonard!" he calls, so loud and so often his voice becomes horse.

It's a soft glow in the water under a log jam that catches Jim's attention. Curiosity peaked, he slides down the embankment, leaving Bones pacing above. His legs splash into the frigid water before he can slow his decent enough to gain his footing. Looking closer at the faint blue glow beneath the surface, the fine delicate lines take a familiar shape. "Oh my god, Leonard!" If it wasn't for the blue glow, Jim would have walked right past the mound of debris.

Jim surges forward, throwing branches and leaves out of the way. Tangled in the mess of washed out debris is a muddy and limp Leonard. Jim forces his numb fingers to grab a hold of what's left of Leonard's jacket and yank him free. Whipping at the mud and dirt covering Leonard's face, he places his ear next to Leonard's mouth while feeling for a pulse. Leonard's pulse is faint and there's a wet rattle to his shallow breaths, but he's alive.

Gently he taps Leonard's cheek. "I need you to open your eyes," commands Jim. There's no response. As tired as he is, Jim hooks his hands under Leonard's arms and drags him as far up the embankment as he can to try and get Leonard out of the freezing water. He wrestles his coat off and covers his friend's cold limp body.

Flipping his communicator open, Jim says, "Carol, give my coordinates to rescue services, I need a medical transport ASAP." He holds Leonard close with numb frozen fingers as he waits, watching as the illuminated tattoos slowly disappear again now that they're out of the water.

"How is he?" asks Joanna, almost in tears as she walks into the emergency ward with Carol behind her. She wraps her arms around Jim, holding on tightly.

"He was hypothermic and had water in his lungs. They're going to keep him overnight for observation but they think he's going to fine. You can go sit with him if you like," explains Jim. He's a little hypothermic himself but it isn't why he feels numbs. He very nearly lost Leonard-again.

When he saw Leonard lying in that water, possibly dead, only one thing mattered. The career, life on a ship, making a difference in Starfleet, exploration, revenge for Pike, Carol, none of it mattered in that moment. A life with Leonard- in any shape or form was the only thing Jim wanted.

"This is my fault," Joanna sobs into his shoulder.

Jim rubs her back. "It's not your fault," he assures. Accidents happen, and if there's any blame to go around it starts and stops with the guy in charge- him. "Go on, he's in room two-fifteen. I'll join you in a moment." Jim waits at the nurses' station as Joanna makes her way to Leonard's room, Carol moving to his side.

"I'm sorry tonight didn't turn out the way you wanted," says Jim tiredly. Trying to straddle two versions of his life is exhausting and in the end he's messing both of them up. Both Carol and Leonard are getting the short end of the stick by Jim trying to have it all.

"Leonard's alright, that's what's important," she soothes.

Jim just nods. Leonard was very nearly not alright. "I'm going to stay here tonight. Could you take Joanna back to the house when she's ready to go?"

"I figured you would, because Leonard's always going to come first, isn't he?" she asks, though there's no bitterness or accusation in her voice, more the wisdom of finally figuring something out.

Jim wants to assure her that it's not true, that they can have that life together but he can't find the lie in what she's proclaimed. His two roads have finally come to diverge in those woods out by the creek. One path leads to Carol and the other Leonard; regretfully he cannot take them both. All he can do is nod.

"You really love him don't you?" asks Carol.

"He's my best friend. I wouldn't be anywhere without him having my back all those years ago," replies Jim. Everything he is or was is because Leonard believed in him.

"That's not what I mean."

"It's not like that."

Carol nods as if making up her mind about something. "I love you, Jim. I'll take Joanna home later but I won't be there when you get back. We just have different priorities and I'm not prepared to keep waiting for when those priorities a line."

"I'm sorry, Carol. I really am," says Jim, brokenly.

"I hope one day I'm lucky enough to find someone that loves me like that." Carol gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "And I'm sorry too. Leonard is a luck guy."

Jim stands there, watching her walk away for what will be the last time. He should chase after her, sweep her off her feet in some grand gesture but he doesn't. For as much as he wants to be in love with Carol, his heart just isn't in it the way it should be. It belongs to another.

"You'll be pleased to know Ta-I Haste'em is going to live. Lucky for him; unfortunate for you," says Ma'ltic with a slick smile. He paces in front of Leonard's kneeling form. The guards are doing an exceptional job of twisting Leonard's arms to the point of almost breaking. "Taking on a G'Blades is no small task. It requires work and a steady hand to reshape the undesirable into being worthy. A lesser man would cast you aside as too much trouble. Fortunate for you, Sandrit has found you a worthy master capable of the task.

Leonard would like to argue that point but his lip is already split and swollen and there's a good chance his jaw is fractured in several places.

Ma'ltic gets right in Leonard's face, the stubble along his jaw brushing against Leonard's cheek as he whispers into Leonard's ear, "There are worse things than death, I think."

Leonard shudders. If anyone can think of something, it's surely this man.

Ma'ltic goes back to pacing. "You know what they did to your Vulcan friend. They cut out all the pieces that made him him, his soul if you will, and left a body that's very eager to serve. I'm going to do this to you. I'm going to remove everything that you think makes you special and leave you as my play thing. I'm going to let you think about that. For the next three days you can take comfort in the knowledge that it will be the last time you're you, the last time you get to recall your precious memories. The last time you have a thought that is your own. After that you will be reborn into something beautiful. Sleep well."

The guards and Ma'ltic leave Leonard alone in his dark cell after that. His heart pounds and stomach rolls as panic starts to set in. Death is a guarantee; as a doctor, Leonard has seen almost every incarnation of it. It's an inevitable occurrence that he's long made peace with but as a doctor, he fights every day to make sure that end (for himself and others) is on his terms. But this… this is scarier than any nightmare he could dream up. It's living death and every breath is taking him closer to it. He's a man awaiting his walk to the gallows only there will be no release after death.

He focuses on every sensation and feeling in every moment. He has a lifetime to live in three days and he wants to make it count. He searches for every memory he can squeeze out of his addled brain and hopes those people from his past life aren't looking for him anymore. There will be nothing worth finding now.

The days following rescuing Leonard from the river are miserable for everyone. Leonard develops pneumonia which is touch and go for the first few days causing a high fever and serious consideration of placing Leonard on artificial breathing. Jim and Joanna spend most of their time trying to keep Leonard calm despite the chaos around him and the obvious pain and discomfort that comes from trying to take adequate breaths.

Every hacking cough cuts into Jim's already raw nerves. It's only compounded by the desperate look Leonard has when he asks to go home and Jim has to say no. Jim would normally go against medical advice but where Leonard's concerned, he follows the doctor's advice to the letter. He thinks Bones would be proud of him, even if this new attitude is a long time coming. He does contact M'Benga onboard the Enterprise for a second opinion.

Joanna brings a duffle bag of Leonard's things with her the first morning after he's admitted. It's a favourite blanket, book and stuffed animal; small creature comforts but a much needed piece of home. She puts up a few pictures just to make the room feel a bit more homey. Leonard passes when she offers to play board games with him or do any coloring, too uncomfortable to engage in anything.

She resorts to reading her biology texts to Leonard, both to stay ahead of her school work that she's missing and because they've exhausted most of Leonard's preferred titles. Jim's not sure if Leonard is really interested, humouring Joanna, or just too exhausted to protest.

The medical team eventually gets the infection under control leaving Leonard in mild discomfort and completely exhausted when he is discharged. Joanna takes the week off from school to stay with him and help Jim around the house. Jim doesn't say anything, silently grateful for the help. It's hard watching Leonard endure coughing fits, pain and the resulting confusion at his current state.

Jim finally breathes as sigh of relief when the doctor gives Leonard a clean bill of health at his latest check up.

"I wanted to extend my personal congratulations, Spock," says Jim, sitting comfortably behind his desk at home. "It's not just anyone that could broker a peace treaty between us and the Klingons. You make one hell of a Captain."

Spock tips his head, framed by the all too familiar back drop of the Captain's ready room aboard the Enterprise. "I believe the human response is thank-you, Jim. I did as Uhrua would say, take a page out of your play book."

"It's all you, Spock," insists Jim. "Those Captain's stripes and chair look good on you. You've done more with them then I ever could."

Spock opens his mouth to object but Jim waves him off. "I mean it. You're exactly where you should be." Jim glances through his office door to the kitchen table where Leonard and Joanna are playing some sort of game. Leonard's gives a little cough, a lingering parting gift from his near death experience that seems intent on hanging around. Joanna lets loose a heart warming laugh at something Leonard does in the game and for the first time Jim doesn't envy what he left behind or what could be out there. "As am I. I look forward to you bringing our ship and crew home safely." Because even if he's happy where he is, that crew on that ship will always be his family.

Jim wishes he could find dress shopping as fascinating as Leonard does. His appreciation for elaborate woman's wear begins and ends with how little of it there is and how fast he can throw it on the floor; neither of which are virtues in this case. He shifts in his chair again trying to get comfortable while Leonard wanders around the show room poking at the different colored garments and making a pile of the ones he likes.

"Well, what do you think?" asks Joanna as she steps out from the change room. There's a hesitancy in her voice and her demeanour as she steps in front of the mirror, turning for everyone to get a good look.

Jim doesn't know what to say. Before him stands a young woman in a gorgeous sparkly blue form fitting dress, with all the poise and confidence of a young adult, but all he can see is a little girl in pigtails telling him how ridiculous Leonard looked playing the princess in the latest holoprogram she got him to play. At the same time he can see her graduation which is mere months away, getting her first place, her wedding day, and it all seems so close.

"B-eautiful," says Leonard, letting the dress he was tracing the beaded pattern on swing back on the rack as his attention turns to Joanna.

"Yeah," agrees Jim. "You look exquisite." He clears his throat to try and dispel the tight burning feeling creeping up on him. She's technically not his little girl but confronted with the very real reality that she's growing up, he can't help but feel she is his.

"Do you think Matt will like it?" she asks, turning again to see herself in the mirror.

"A perfect gentleman would," says Jim, not so subtlety. It's not that he doesn't like Matt per say. The guy certainly isn't anything like Jib. He does check the boxes that matter to Jim; he treats Joanna well, comes by the house with the utmost respect, seems to understand and takes great consideration for Leonard. But he has eyes for Joanna, and it's fallen to Jim to make sure whoever she's involved with is up to standards.

Joanna just rolls her eyes. "I think I'll get this one."

Jim doesn't even feel the plate slip from his hand let alone hear it smash against the ground. Time moves like molasses: slow, thick and sucking him in to one point- Joanna collapsing in the living room. For someone trained to deal with high pressure emergency situations, he has no memory of calling for a medical transport, arriving at the hospital with Leonard or anything beyond waiting, paralyzed with fear for someone to come out and tell him what is wrong with his kid.

"They're still running tests," says one of the nurses by way of explanation.

Jim gives a tight lipped nod because if he tries to say something, he's just going to end up making the nurse cry. He grips his coffee cup tighter but doesn't take sip. It's long grown cold and he's not sure he could stomach it anyways. "Sit down," he tells Leonard, who's taken to pacing the length of the waiting room.

He'd taken Dr McCoy for granted for all their years together on the Enterprise; never realized just how lucky he was to have Leonard's skills at his disposal until times like these when the only opinion and diagnosis he'd trust isn't available. He leaves a message for Chapel and M'Benga instead and debates at what point he should elicit Jocelyn's wrath.

It's the longest three hours of Jim's life before the doctor finally comes out to see Jim. "What's wrong?" he asks, jumping to his feet. The motion prompts Leonard to follow suit, standing behind Jim like a shadow.

"She's awake and vitals are stable," assures the doctor.

Jim deflates slightly as he lets out a long breath of relief. "What happened then?"

"She passed out because her blood pressure dropped. We've run a battery of tests but there doesn't seem to be any underlying condition. She was probably just a little dehydrated. We will monitor the situation with a portable monitor for a week but right now she's clear to go home."

"Thank you, doctor," says Jim. As the doctor heads back to see more patients, Jim turns to Leonard and says, "That's good news at least."

Leonard just cocks his head to the side.

It's a perfectly calm sunny afternoon when the chime at the front door disturbs their lazy Sunday. "Can I help you?" asks Jim, as the door opens to an unfamiliar face. They're not exactly along the beaten path, and strangers don't happen upon their door, especially beautiful Orion women. Jim's immediately on edge.

"You're Captain Jim Kirk?" asks the woman, bluntly and slightly standoffish, like she's not sure if Jim will be truthful in the matter.

"In the flesh. And you are?"

The woman extends her hand out. "Berlin. I wait a long time to meet you. My doctor promised you would take me to Paris."

Jim takes her hand. "Who is your doctor?" he asks, utterly confused.

"Leonard McCoy."

Jim's breathe catches in this throat. He glances behind him to Leonard working on one of his puzzles on the living room floor, before stepping out on to the porch, making sure the door closes behind him. His brow creases as he scrutinizes his unexpected guest. Crossing his arms, he asks, "How exactly do you know Leonard?"

"You can relax," says Berlin, casually leaning against the porch railing. "Leonard is my friend."

"Friend?" says Jim rather indigently. Jim's pretty familiar with the company Leonard kept before his abduction and has been in control of all his interactions since. The only window that leaves is Leonard's time with the slavers and no one there is any real friend.

"Leonard helped us out during his servitude. In turn, I help him. That makes us friends. He talked about you; had a message for you. Said to find you when I got to Earth so here I am." Berlin shrugs. She pulls out a small box from some pocket magically concealed somewhere on her formfitting red dress that's too tight to hide anything. Flipping the lip up, she retrieves a cigarette and places it between it between her soft lips before lighting it and taking a long drag. Fine blue tendrils of caramel smelling smoke curl out from her lips as she offers the box to Jim.

Jim shakes his head. "Leonard was taken ten years ago. If you had a message for me, why take so long?" he demands. Leonard helping someone sounds right but he can't shake the feeling a trap is about to be sprung.

"It was not easy to get here. Not all Orions have freedom to come and go as they please," she replies defensively, emphasizing her point by jabbing her cigarette in the air.

"If it's so difficult, why come at all. Any message he might have had is long past its usefulness. Not only because we rescued him but you do know what they did to him right?" danger flickers in Jim's eyes.

Berlin looks down at the ground. Sadness tinges her voice as she says, "I know. It is very unfortunate that it came to that. I tried to get him out, I really did, but he chose to save the others instead- even knowing his fate."

"You were with him?"

Berlin nods. "I made him a promise. I intend to keep it." She pulls out a silver chain that's tucked under the straps of her dress. At the end of the necklace is the McCoy family ring. "He wanted this to get to you for his daughter." She unclasps the necklace and holds it out.

Jim can barely keep his hand from trembling as she drops it in his palm. It sparkles in the afternoon light, like it realizes it's finally home. For a brief moment it feels like getting a small piece of his friend back. "Would you like to come in for a drink? I'd like to hear anything you can tell me about Leonard."

"I'd like that," agrees Berlin.

"Okay. Just give me a minute, I'll have to get Leonard settled first," say Jim about to slip in the door. He'll have to get Leonard outside to see the birds or something else to distract him. They probably were friends in that horrible situation but Leonard doesn't have the greatest reactions to things from his past.

Berlin's eyes widen in surprise. "Leonard's here?"

"Yeah."

"Could I… can I see him?" she asks.

Jim should say no, if only to protect Leonard from the chance it might upset him. But there's something so earnest and caring in the way she asks.

Sitting on the top step of the back porch, Leonard looks up as Jim says, "Leonard, a friend is here to see you. Is it alright if she joins you?" He stares at the pair in the doorway to the kitchen where they had been sharing a glass of lemonade for the last couple of hours. He nods slowly, trusting if there was any danger, Jim would have sniffed it out by now.

"Just remember to go slow," whispers Jim as Berlin steps out on the back porch.

"Hello, Leonard," she says softly. "Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?"

Leonard nods again, turning his attention back to the birds once she's seated next to him.

Berlin whispers, "It took me awhile, but I finally came here to see to see the city of love."

Jim's pretty sure he catches the soft whispers of Orion being spoken between them as he heads back into the kitchen to take care of the dishes. He keeps a weathered eye on them from the kitchen window and is simultaneously relieved and jealous when Leonard lets his head rest on Berlin's shoulder as they watch the birds soar high in the sky.

It was going too well, that should have been Jim's first clue that the other shoe was due to drop. Everyone was happy, healthy and looking forward to the graduation ceremony in two weeks time. Jocelyn was due to arrive next week and Spock even got creative enough to schedule maintenance on the Enterprise so the senior staff could show force for the daughter of their beloved former CMO. Jim suspects it was more Uhura and Chekov's idea to show up than Spock's, but he appreciates the consideration.

He should have been watching more closely after their last scare but Joanna seemed to bounce back like nothing happened and all test showed no cause for concern. Jim even made sure she was drinking enough water just in case. His incessant nagging even had Leonard following her around with a water bottle. Clearly they all missed something. Healthy people don't collapse in the middle of class.

"You're Joanna McCoy's father?" asks a young doctor as she enters the private waiting room the nurse brought Jim back to.

"Jim Kirk, I'm her legal guardian."

"We have her stabilized but our scans suggest she's experiencing some internal bleeding. We haven't been able to identify the source just yet but we're giving her blood to compensate and we have more thorough tests set up for later. Has she experienced any trauma lately, any injuries?"

"Uh…" Jim shakes his head in confusion as he tries to reconstruct every moment of their lives over the last few months. "She plays volleyball but the season's been over for a couple of weeks. She rides horses but again, we haven't gone out in over a month. Two months ago she passed out but the doctor said it was low blood pressure due to dehydration. She's been tired for awhile, probably the past year but I didn't think … Are you saying we've missed something?"

"We don't know anything for certain just yet but we're going to keep her in for the time being. She is conscious now if you'd like to see her.

Jim spends every day at the hospital. He has no problem camping out in the waiting room or taking a cot next to Joanna's bed but he feels a little guilty that his staying here means Leonard has to stay here too. Not that Leonard objects to staying with Joanna but he does get rather antsy and moody when his carefully crafted routine is so co-opted it practically doesn't exist.

Jim's not sure if it's his talent for winning over nurses or Leonard's magic charms but the nursing staff takes pity on Jim, helping out with Leonard despite their already busy schedules.

Joanna seems in rather good spirits despite being exhausted all the time and an ongoing science project. If Jim's being honest, she's probably handling everything better than he is. It's a cosmic dose of what it must have been like to Leonard as he waited around after every mission, uncertain if he could piece Jim back together. Jim doesn't like being on this side of things.

Joanna uses her brief flirtations with consciousness to read to Leonard. Jim's woken up a few times after falling asleep in his chair to listen to her quietly read passages from biology texts and medical journals. Leonard for his part, curls up on the biobed with her, completely enraptured in every word she utters.

Jim fills his time with reading too, only his is more research driven. He doesn't have the talent or understanding of medical research that Leonard did but he can't just sit by and do nothing. He won't sit helplessly by while something is stealing Joanna away.

The fifth day brings no new answers but it does bring Jocelyn in a whirlwind of commotion, fury and over bearing concern. Jim wouldn't wish Jocelyn's sharp tongue and intellect on anyone, but since it's not directed at him this time, he's silently rooting for her special brand of charm to demand answers that have so far been elusive.

Jocelyn doesn't inspire the medical staff to anymore breakthroughs. Her presence does prompt Joanna to say, "Mom's here now, Uncle Jim, why don't you go home and get some sleep in a real bed."

"I'm fine," insists Jim, sitting up stiffly in his chair. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing as his back furiously argues against Jim's statement.

Joanna looks over at Leonard who looks anything but comfortable curled in a tight ball on the cot in the corner. "He's not. You should take him home for the night. I'll be fine until you get back."

Jim glances at Leonard; she's not wrong. The nurses have been great taking him to the cafeteria to get meals and walks around the hospital to stretch and keep from going stir crazy but it's a bandage to keep Leonard going and amicable. At the very least, Jim should take him home and get him into some proper clothes and not the scrubs one of the nurses provided on day two of their unofficial campout.

"Alright," agrees Jim, "but we'll be back first thing in the morning."

"Tomorrow night, at the earliest," counters Joanna. "All the girl talk would just bore you anyways."

"Okay. But you comm. me right away if you hear anything or anything changes." Jim kisses Joanna on the forehead. Gently he shakes, Leonard's shoulder until a pair of sleepy green eyes peek up at him. "Hey," he whispers, "time to go home."

Leonard yawns as he sits up. A small smile shines through his exhaustion. "Home?"

"Yeah, we're going to go home for a bit."

Leonard wobbles slightly as he gets to his feet, sleep still trying to pull him under. He stops when he gets to the door, looking confused at Joanna. "Oanna home?" he asks, looking at Jim expectantly.

"I know you want Jo to come home but she has to stay here tonight."

Leonard shakes his head taking a step back from the door. "No home."

"Yes home," counters Jim. "Just for tonight, then we'll come back in the morning. You have to feed Bones. You know he likes it better when you do it." Jim once brokered a peace treaty between two species that had been at war with one another for three thousand years and a trade deal with a civilization that believed technology was the work of the devil and the Federation but there are days that both those feats seem easy in comparison to trying to convince Leonard to do something he doesn't want to. Jim prays this isn't going to be one of those days; he just doesn't have it in him to fight right now.

Leonard locks his jaw, shaking his head furiously.

"Leonard, you need to take Jim home. You have to feed him and make sure he goes to bed. For me, please?" begs Joanna.

Shifting from foot to foot, Leonard looks between Jim and Joanna assessing his options. With a defeated huff he stomps towards Jim and out the door.

"Tomorrow," promises Jim, before following Leonard out. "So for her, you'll say yes?" asks Jim with frustrated amusement as they leave the hospital.

It's far from a restful night at home but Jim figures what Joanna doesn't know won't hurt her. He does fulfill his promise of getting them fed, showered and changed. If eating looks more like pacing the living room while stuffing his face with finger foods while every contact in the medical field he has, then it is what it is.

Jim's not the only one not sleeping. After taking care of Bones and Boo and the other birds, Leonard grabs his blocks and settles on the living room floor. He doesn't build any of the towers or patterns out of his workbook but pushes the blocks around on the floor, taking great care to line them up perfectly.

Jim's too preoccupied to enforce working on a lesson, even though it's been days since Leonard's engaged in any of his regular activities. Even if he wasn't consumed with trying to find answers, given the circumstances, they all need a bit of a pass.

Somewhere along the line, Jim loses track of time. It isn't until he can't stand anymore that he sinks into the couch and checks the time. 3:00am. It explains why he feels like he has led weights attached to every part of him and why Leonard is swaying slightly as he sits on the floor arranging his blocks. "Leonard, you should go to bed." It's hypocritical, since Jim has no real intentions of sleeping but he's always been a do as I say, not as I do kind of leader.

Leonard just blinks owlishly at Jim for a few moments. Slowly he reaches out to start putting his blocks back in their box.

Jim waves his hand dismissively. "Just leave them. We'll clean them up in the morning." He watches as Leonard saunters upstairs. Bones wakes up from his spot on the floor; yawning and stretching when he hears Leonard take the stairs.

Jim sits in the low light and quiet of the living room; the last few days weighing heavy on him. He's always had his doubts about the wisdom of Leonard designating Jim the guardian of Joanna. Now he feels those concerns are justified. Leonard would have this figured out and fixed this already. Hell, he'd probably already be publishing a paper on the subject, but most importantly, he'd have a diagnosis and treatment for his daughter. Jim's just lost at sea here. While the doctors are concerned about her as of yet unexplained symptoms, they don't believe her life is in immediate danger. That's just not good enough.

He gets up to fix himself a drink; anything to keep his head from spinning with dread. "Ouch," snaps Jim, hopping on one foot as the pointed end of one of the blocks reminds him they're still scattered on the floor. He's about to kick them out of the way in a fit of rage when the pattern catches his eye. In the middle of the scattered chaos are five somewhat recognizable shapes.

Penmanship isn't exactly a skill they've been trying to get Leonard to rebuild. His medical team prescribe coloring to help redevelop his dexterity and coordination but the actual art of writing was deemed unimportant in a world supported by computer interfaces. Leonard's interaction with letters and numbers is based on recognition only. But there in the middle of the floor is a blocky looking X-P-C-A-5.

Jim stares at it bewildered. Leonard's never written anything out before or even tried. It's probably just a coincidence but the more he stares at it, the more it eats away at him. He runs it through his head trying to decipher the sounds of each letter into some sort of word but nothing comes to mind. "Computer, search for any words in any language that would be represented by standard letters XPCA5."

"Searching," replies the computer. After a few moments the computer beeps back. "There are seven results."

"Display on screen." Jim reads over the results but none are applicable or meaningful. The letters are rather clunky both due to the medium being used and the hands that built them. "Computer, try XPCAS. Same search parameters."

"Sixteen results."

Again, the results don't yield anything that makes any sense. He highly doubts Leonard has an interest in an ancient Andorian city, or a slug like creature from the planet Trill or a Vulcan cheese. Maybe it's a sign that Jim really needs sleep or maybe, "If it's not a word," he mutters to himself. "Computer, search for any acronyms or abbreviations with those letters in Standard."

"Negative results found."

Disappointment washes over Jim. He wanted so desperately for it to mean something- anything, especially now. He stares at the meaningless display with contempt while simultaneously wishing they would reveal the secrets to the universe to him.

He stares so intently the letters start to morph and blur. Slowly he reaches out and angles the block he stepped on. "Computer, same request but for letters XPCRS."

"One search result."

"Display it."

"That's one hell of a catch, Captain," compliments the nurse, as the orderlies transport Joanna down the hall for treatment, with Jocelyn in tow. "Those symptoms are such a rare precursor for Xenopolycythemia type RS that most Doctors miss it. Fortunately we have a cure now and with treatment your daughter will be alright. Though if you've never been tested, you should give it some thought. This type is usually genetic." She cocks her head to the side. "Actually, the doctor that discovered the cure for it happens to be named McCoy too. What a coincident."

"No," says Jim softly, "that's her father." Leonard saved Joanna sixteen years before she even needed saving.