McCoy jerked away from the touch as if burned, walking a few steps away, not quite ready to let Jim that close to him. He forgave him for what he'd said, because he knew the captains issues and he understood and more than that...he would forgive Jim pretty much anything, but he couldn't handle that sort of contact right then. It was too much. Jim was too damn much.
"You don't think I know that, Jim?" he asked softly, the anger drained out of him, leaving a weary emptiness in its wake. "I did everything I could...everything possible...and it just wasn't enough. Jocelyn resented me...blamed me for not being able to save Joanna...and I blamed myself too..." He shook his head. "I fell into a bottle of bourbon and she fell into bed with other guys...and then we stopped pretending we could go on. She got everything because I was too damn tired to fight. Pike found me drowning myself in a glass of whisky in some bar...don't even remember what state...told me I could be better. That I could help people."
"And what was it all for, Jim?" he asked, voice rising again as he turned to look at Jim for the first time since he'd told him the truth. "What was all of it for that I have to go through it again? That I have to watch her suffer again...watch her die...I can't do that. It was too damn hard the first time and I...I can't, Jim." He was thoroughly broken by the thought of having to repeat that experience, needing Jim to somehow fix this. The way the younger man had fixed his aviophobia with careful words and subtle distractions. The way he'd fixed his bitterness toward Jocelyn with alcohol and snide comments. Because Jim had always fixed things in his life.