Jim scrubbed at his eyes with the fingers of his good hand. The other was still bandaged, the cuts from where he'd split his knuckles open and bruised them on Bones' face after decking the guy in an act of sheer Jim Kirk stupidity not yet healed. He was tired, too, but not as much as Bones was. He caved to sleep for a while yesterday when he'd become so delusional with exhaustion he'd ordered the toaster to take them out of warp. How he managed to confuse a toaster with Sulu was beyond him, but something he'd readily blame on a lack of sleep and one too many shots of Jack.
"Not even close," the captain echoed with a bitter sigh. He hated seeing how tore up it all made his best friend, who was usually his pillar of sanity when he slipped and fell into one of his father died or Frank's an asshole or mother left the planet because he scared her without how much he was like said dead father holes and tried to wallow in his own self pity. Being the responsible one, being that pillar? Wasn't in Jim's job description and he was fumbling through it horribly like a First Year cadet trying to look cool in front of the older officers.
Jim looked down at the floor, suddenly interested in his shoes--or lack of shoes. Christ, his feet were ugly. The many hours he spent standing on them were showing, just whe--
Focus, James.
He swallowed. "There wasn't a cure back home, either, Uhura. Joanna's a terminal case."
It wouldn't hurt if he bothered to clip hi--
Distraction, thy name is James Tiberius Kirk. Focus.
"She died. Four years ago. There was nothing Bones could do. He's having to through that all again--" His head snapped up to focus on her, blue eyes blazing. "--and in a time and place where medical advancements might as well be from the fucking Bronze Age!"