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Once alpha shift had turned over the bridge to the oncoming shift, Nyota realized that she wasn't sure where to go. She was sharing a room with three other cadets to make room for the Vulcan refugees and she hadn't had a chance to sit and think since they had left the Academy. Now, faced with the opportunity, she found she didn't want to.
It was easier to stay in motion, to never rest, than to consider the fates of her classmates on other ships. Her throat tightened as her mind went to Gaila, her closest friend. She should've been with her, should've been on the Farragut…
She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside. She pushed the lift button for the medical floor; perhaps her linguistic skills could be of use providing translations for Vulcan refugees there.
She expected obvious chaos walking into the medical bay, but didn't find it. It was quiet, with hushed voices and gentle words. Christine Chapel spared her a quick smile that didn't reach her eyes as she flitted between patients with ease, as though she felt no weariness.
“Do you need any help?” Nyota asked, falling in step behind her. “Do you need anyone to translate or-”
“Uhura.” A deep voice interrupted. “Go rest. We’re fine here.” Dr. McCoy, looking years older than he had days earlier, stepped out from behind a partition.
“I just want to help.” She offered. She didn't want to have nothing to do, she needed to keep moving, otherwise she would have to think. And thinking would be painful.
Leonard frowned at her. “Then make yourself useful and drag Jim up here.” He looked down at his PADD. “He's being an idiot, as usual.”
“Do you know where he is?” She asked, inwardly cringing as the words left her mouth; if he knew, Jim would've already been forced to the med bay.
Leonard sighed. “Do you hear him whining? If I knew where he was, I’d’ve drug him up here myself.”
“Right. I'll find Kirk.” She turned on her heels and left, the doors sliding closed behind her.
She had as task, but she wasn't thrilled about it. She and Jim never got along at the academy. He flirted with everything that moved, goofed off constantly, and (worst of all) they were tied for top of the class in every class they shared. Nyota wasn't afraid to admit she was more than slightly competitive. It irked her that he took everything so lightly.
First, she asked the onboard system of the Enterprise to locate the Acting Captain, but it couldn't; Jim had been smuggled aboard. She groaned in frustration. He could be anywhere.
She checked the mess hall and the officer’s mess, but he wasn't there. The recreation center had been converted to a common area for the Vulcan refugees and Jim wasn't there either.
She leaned against the wall, trying to think. At the academy, she remembered, Jim would often go to the astronomy center. There was a large, domed room that simulated the galaxies. You could go anywhere in the universe to look at the stars.
Gaila had once said she and Jim would sneak in at night and fool around under the stars. She said that it was the only place Jim would ever really be still. Nyota consulted the map, looking for any observation decks and found four.
She felt a little sick to her stomach as she continued her search. She'd almost forgotten that Jim and Gaila had been close. They were alike in many ways, flirtatious, brilliant, and thrill-seeking. And though charismatic, neither had ever truly fit in, not completely.
Despite the animosity between them, Jim had just saved their lives. Hell, he'd saved the entire planet. And, he'd lost people too, she realized. She finally found him on the 3rd level, curled up on the floor without even a pillow for his head.
“Kirk, get up.” She said, her voice echoing. He remained motionless. “Kirk.” She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “Captain Kirk.” She said, disdain coloring her tone. Still, he didn't move.
She crept closer. His eyes were closed. A gentle hand on his shoulder had him rocketing up, wild blue eyes having trouble focusing on her for a moment.
“Uhura, what do you need?” He asked, wheezing as he took a deep breath. His neck was ringed with bruises and his eyes bloodshot.
“Dr. McCoy wants you in the medical bay.” She explained.
“I bet. Tell him I'm fine. I just need to sleep.” He laid back down, almost like he couldn't hold himself upright any longer.
“Tell him yourself, I'm not your messenger.” She snapped.
He opened his eyes to look at her, maintaining a calm she didn't expect. “I'll go up in a few minutes.” He assured her. “Ok?”
“You need to go now.”
“I know. I'm just...trying to think.” He admitted. He swallowed, wincing at the action. He had one arm back behind his head, looking almost casual except for the trembling running through his limbs.
“You're hurt.” She said, taking in the few injuries she could see, his bruised (probably broken) hand, the painful discoloration around his neck, the numerous scrapes to his arms and face.
“Just a little.” He chuckled, unable to stop himself from wincing. “Small price to pay.” He winked at her.
“You're impossible.” She said, sitting down beside him. “Kirk…”
He looked up at her, the bravado slipping away in an instant. “I know.” He looked away. “Everyone is gone…”
The lump was back in her throat. “Yeah, they are.” She whispered.
“Go rest, Uhura. I'll go see Bones in a minute.”
“Kirk-”
“It's an order, Uhura. Go rest.” Jim said, eyes wet. Even on the floor, even hoarse from being strangled, he managed to inflect his voice with a hint of authority.
“Fine.” She glared at him. “You're so stubborn.”
She rounded the corner and paused to catch her breath, to wipe away the tears in the corners of her eyes. She was about to move when she heard a sob, lonely and smothered, so as not to make too much noise. If she'd been any further away, she would've missed it. “Oh hell, Kirk…” she mumbled to herself.
She peeked around the corner. Jim hadn't moved, except to cover his face. His chest heaved with sobs and she could hear his labored breathing from the door. She felt guilty, though she wasn't sure why.
Wordlessly, she crossed the room to sit beside him, grabbing his arm gently when he tried to roll away. He batted at her hands, but he was too drained to fight. He started to cough, horrible choking sounds and she helped him sit up, trying to draw a breath.
“You're not...very good at listening.” Jim coughed, trying to get himself under control.
Nyota snorted, “Right, you're one to talk.” She rubbed his back, feeling as his rattling breathing slowed to a normal rate.
Jim dried his eyes, though they watered over again. He sagged against the wall, covering his face. “God, it's been a long day.” He half-joked, his voice watery. He muffled a weak sob, cheeks pink with embarrassment.
Nyota squeezed his arm gently. “C’mon, let’s go see McCoy. I think he's worried about you.” She said through a smile.
She expected Jim to brush off the remark, to ignore her. Instead, he pressed his hands harder over his eyes, shuddering.
“Kirk?”
“Can you- Can you get Bones?” He whispered.
“Yeah, sure. Are you ok?” She asked dumbly, hand on her communicator. He shrugged. “Right.” She paged McCoy and kept one hand on Jim’s arm, half comforting, half to keep him from running.
He was shaking, tremors wracking his body. He clenched his teeth to stop the chattering, breath hissing. One hand dipped down, arms losing their tension. His lips were pale, nearly blue. She felt a jolt of panic at the sight.
“Slow breaths, ok?” She coaxed him. “Breathe with me. In. And out. Nice and easy.”
Jim shook his head. “I can't! I can't-” he broke into a coughing fit, tears leaking down his cheeks as he struggled to inhale.
Nyota was powerless, unsure if he was hurt, sick, or panicking. Maybe all three. He was trying to maintain a broken shell, trying to guard himself with his shattered pieces. He half-heartedly tried to pull away from her but even her lax hand on his arm was enough to keep him within reach.
“Kirk, McCoy will be here soon. You're not alone. You're going to be ok.” She whispered. Helplessly, she tried to soothe him, a wave of relief when McCoy finally arrived.
“Oh, Jim. C’mere, kid.” He dropped down beside him, tricorder momentarily forgotten.
Jim allowed himself to be pulled into his embrace, hands fumbling for a hold on Leonard’s shirt. With practiced ease, Leonard scanned him without letting him go. “When did you last eat?” Leonard grumbled.
“I don't know.” Jim admitted, wincing as Leonard pressed a hypospray to his neck. “Ow…”
“Don't be such an infant.” Leonard said, rolling his eyes. “You need to come to Med Bay. You've got some broken ribs.”
Jim sagged in his arms. Nyota felt invisible, her presence forgotten as Leonard ghosted his hands over Jim, assessing him for injury. The Acting Captain was the doctor’s singular focus, easy fondness obvious in his eyes.
“Jim.” Leonard said, rousing him. “Either you walk or I drag you there.”
Jim grunted and, with help, stood. Leonard shot Nyota a thankful smile as she tucked herself in against Jim’s side, steadying him.
It was a long walk back to the medical bay, requiring a detour around a section of the ship closed due to damages. Jim closed his eyes in the lift, shaking hands covering his face.
“You're going to eat, before I can heal anything.” Leonard said, tone non-negotiable. “I don't know what your blood sugar is, but it must be low.”
“Low.” Jim agreed. His weak tone gave Nyota pause; did Jim have a medical condition? She'd never observed any sign in their years at the academy.
Leonard hugged him affectionately, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “S’okay. Not completely your fault this time.” He said softly. Nyota shifted, uncomfortable, like it was a moment she wasn't intended to see. This wasn't the Jim she knew; he may well have been a stranger.
The Jim Kirk she knew was brash, cocky, larger-than-life, whip-smart, and impulsive. The man pressed between her and Dr. McCoy was gentled and needy, a hand still clench in Leonard’s shirt. Leonard didn't seem surprised by his behavior though, and she wondered how much about Jim she didn't know- despite his propensity to talk.
The lift stopped and Jim jolted as though waking from a dream. He took a few quick breaths and Leonard rubbed his back. “Just a little bit further. Stay with me.”
Nyota caught a glimpse of fresh tears on his cheeks and wiped them away with her sleeve without thinking. She didn't know if she was protecting Jim or the crew, but it wouldn't do anyone any good to see him like this, not when he was so obviously hurting.
Inside the Med Bay, Christine helped usher Jim to a biobed, politely turning her head when Leonard pushed him back against the mattress. He glanced at the display before exploiting a rip in Jim’s shirt and tearing it down the middle.
“Bones…” Jim whined, slurring a bit. His chest was a collage of bruising and abrasions. Nyota winced in sympathy.
“Idiot.” Leonard mumbled. “Chris, could you get him some food? I'm going to have to regenerate more than I thought.”
Christine obliged and moments later produced a bowl of soup from the replicator. Leonard was assembling a threatening array of hyposprays on a medical stand. “Make sure he eats that.” He said to Nyota, waving at Jim.
“I don't need a baby-sitter.” Jim protested, taking a sip of soup. “Uhura, you can really go.” Jim said, wincing as he tried to sit straighter in bed.
“It's ok.” She said, pulling up a chair. She considered him for a moment, watching as he stirred the soup with his spoon. “You know, I was impressed by the results of your research on quantum particles and their application in interstellar communications.”
He blinked at her, surprised.
“I actually read your paper. With the proper use, it would be possible to have near instant communication anywhere without delay, with almost no infrastructure. The uses-”
“Don't inflate his ego.” Leonard cut in. She laughed, but Jim’s pale face gave her pause.
“What made you think-”
“I hear a lot of talking and not much slurping.” Leonard interrupted again, leveling a significant look at Nyota.
In response, Jim slurped obnoxiously, rolling his eyes. He looked relieved at the distraction and Nyota didn't know what to make of that.
Leonard busied himself tending to other patients until the spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. Without a word, he ambled up alongside the bed, grabbing Jim’s hand and pricking his finger in one fell swoop.
“Hey!” Jim protested, some strength back in his voice.
“Hush.” Leonard chided him, frowning at the display before him. “It's only 65, I'm going to need you to eat something else.” Fishing through his pockets, he dropped a nutrient bar in Jim’s lap before walking off again.
“What-” Nyota stopped herself before she could ask. Jim wasn't her friend and she wasn't his. She hadn't earned any closeness with him.
“My blood sugar. It's gets too low sometimes.” Jim explained, picking at the wrapper before opening it. “Hungry?” He asked, indicating he’d be willing to split it.
“No thanks, I ate.” Nyota said. “Kirk-”
“Jim.”
“What?” She blinked.
He nibbled at the corner of the bar. “You can call me Jim.”
“Ok, Jim, you can call me Nyota.” She said. It was meant to be something of a joke, but it felt more significant.
Jim grinned at her, reminiscent of something distant. “Just the name I would've made up for you.” He teased.
She rolled her eyes. “You're impossible,” she laughed.
“But really, you can go. I know you're off duty.” He said, trying to muster every last iota of strength to make himself look captainly.
“I'm ok. I don't- I don't really want to think about it all yet.”
Jim nodded, slumping slightly. He looked vulnerable, exhausted, and shell-shocked. She could see the impression of things he had seen, the permanent marks that would make this part of who he was for the rest of his life. His eyes were haunted.
“What about Spock?” He asked quietly, his voice catching. He looked up at her. “You know I didn't want-”
“You did what you had to do. He’ll understand that.” She said. She couldn't deny that she'd hated him for what he'd done, and she knew Spock wasn't proud of his behavior either. And she'd simply stood by and not moved to intervene at all.
“Is he ok?” Jim asked.
“He's busy organizing relief efforts.” Nyota said. Jim took another bite. Nyota searched for something to say, but no topic felt safe. They were all fragile, Jim no less than anyone else. “I don't know what to say.” She admitted. “We've never talked this much.”
“Think of all you missed out on.” He said, winking. He was too tired though, too vulnerable to be believable.
“You're incorrigible.”
“Been tellin’ him that for years.” Leonard agreed, returning to the bedside. “Uhura, are you staying or going?” He asked, flicking on the regenerator and letting it warm up.
She glanced at Jim, who shrugged. “I'll stay.”
“Great. Make sure he doesn't move. This is gonna hurt.” Then, more softly to Jim. “Sorry, kiddo.”
Leonard pressed a button and the regenerator hummed to life. Jim winced, instinctively trying to pull away. Nyota caught his hand in hers and he squeezed tight.
Leonard scowled at the display, the progress too slow for his liking. “Jim, did you tell her about that death trap you rebuilt?”
Jim shook his head. “I rebuilt a 21st century...spacecraft.” He panted. “Bones won't...fly in it.”
“It's a death trap.” Leonard reiterated mildly. Nyota got the impression that this was a long-standing argument between the two.
“Why did you rebuild it?” She asked.
Jim squeezed tighter, wincing. His hand was clammy in hers. “Thought it would be cool.” He gritted out. “Fuck, Bones…That stings.”
“You're lucky you don't have a punctured lung. That hand is next.” The doctor said, pointing at his swollen hand where it rested beside him.
After mending his broken ribs, his hand, and some of the swelling in his throat, Leonard looked him over. “Jim? You ok?” He asked.
Jim shivered, shaking his head slightly. His eyes were wet with tears, his skin cool and pale.
“You should've told me it was too much. Here.” He produced a glucose tablet from the medical cabinet.
“I can't. I can't. The taste…” Jim gagged at the thought. Leonard and Nyota helped Jim sit up on the edge of the bed, feet dangling over the floor as he held his head in his hands.
“Shh, darlin’, I know. I'm sorry, I forgot.” Leonard looped an arm around him, pulling him close to his chest. Nyota watched, stunned and confused, unsure what to make of the scene before her.
Christine dropped a nutrient bar beside Leonard before giving them space. Leonard opened it and Jim obediently took a tiny bite, shaking. “I hate this.” He whispered. “Oh my god, I hate this.”
“Just eat. It'll pass.” Leonard said. He caught Nyota’s eye, his nose buried in Jim’s hair, and his expression warned her not to say anything.
Slowly, Jim relaxed, but wouldn't lay back down. “I'm fine. I really should get up to the bridge.” He argued, the color back in his skin.
“No, you shouldn't. You need to rest. You're still a mess of bruises, and I'm positive you have a concussion. There was only so much I could do to heal your neck.” Leonard narrowed his eyes at him. “I'm worried you'll aggravate it if you strain yourself.”
“Bones…”
“Sleep. And then we’ll see.” Leonard offered.
“You can give me something?” Jim looked up.
“Yeah,” Leonard smiled sadly. “I can.”
It was a matter of moments for Leonard to select the hypospray and inject it. “Night, Jimmy.” He whispered, kissing his forehead as he laid him down.
He caught Nyota’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and he looked down, cheeks growing red. “He's...I don't know him at all, do I?” She asked.
Leonard gave her a wry grin, lopsided and hiding something. “No, I suppose not.” He admitted. “He's a good man. You'll see.”
The next day, Jim was on the bridge, a whirlwind of activity the moment the doors opened. He directed repairs, made plans to ration supplies, and drug Spock down to engineering with him to survey the damage.
In between everything, he made sure Nyota set up a communications area and scheduled the crew and the refugees time to call their families over the next several days.
“People with kids not on the ship first, Uhura. There shouldn't be that many.” He decided.
“Do you need to contact anyone?” He was the Acting Captain, she'd been trained to respect rank.
“No, leave me out.” He dismissed her.
“Are you-”
“Leave me out.” He repeated.
By the end of their shift, he was drooping in his chair, coughing periodically. The bruising around his neck extended well beyond the collar of his shirt, deep purple and blue in color. Nyota caught Spock watching the Acting Captain over the top of his PADD.
As Beta shift filed in, he stood brightly by the lift, making polite conversation until almost all the crew had given their end of shift report to their replacement.
Nyota and Jim ended up alone in the lift. Jim stared at the buttons for a long moment before giving her a sheepish grin. “I don't really know where to go.” He admitted.
Nyota nodded. He didn't have quarters. He was, technically, a stowaway. “I'm going to the mess hall. You look like you should eat.”
“Right.” He nodded, selecting the button. He carried himself with authority, but she could see the weight of it on him, the strain across his shoulders as he struggled to maintain it.
For all that Jim liked to talk, she knew almost nothing about him, even from Gaila. “Are you and McCoy…?”
He looked up, only a few bites missing from his rations. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” She swallowed. “I mean, that's good. I just, I thought you and Gaila were.”
Jim shrugged, “We were, sort of, for a while. She’s one of my closest friends.” He paled. “Was. She was.” He swallowed hard.
Nyota deliberately ignored the tears glistening in his eyes. “I keep remembering how many people...it doesn't seem real.”
Jim stared at his food, nodding. “I can't eat. I need to go check on something.” He said, standing abruptly, striding quickly out of the room.
Nyota finished her meal and, after some thought, carefully wrapped up the rest of Jim’s. She set off to find him, telling herself he wasn't any use to anyone if he got sick.
He was easier to find because someone had added him to the crew roster, possibly Spock; the Vulcan had the means and either saw it as an effort towards control or a token of apology.
Jim was in engineering when she found him, up to his elbows in the guts of the ship. He had oil smeared on his cheek, tongue poking out between his teeth in focus.
“Kirk.” She said, softening when he startled, a wrench dropping from his hands. “You should finish this.” She held out the food. “Don't want to let it go to waste.”
If possible, he grew paler, his skin nearly gray. “Right.” He took it from her hands and sat awkwardly on the edge of the steps.
He began to eat and Nyota turned to leave, pleased she’d done something good. The sound of retching stopped her in the doorway, her hand on the switch.
Turning, Jim had his head over a waste receptacle, heaving and coughing and gagging. Quickly, she returned to his side. “Are you ok?”
Jim didn't answer, wiping his mouth on the back of a trembling hand.
“Jim?”
“I'm sorry, I'm ok. It's fine, really-”
“Kirk, breathe.” She cut in. He took a noisy breath, sounding like he'd just run the length of the ship. “What's the matter?”
“Nothing. I'm ok. I'm fine.” He answered quickly. “I should- I should get back to- to work.” He stammered. He fumbled as he bent to pick up the wrench.
“Hey, are you ok?” She touched his shoulder and he jerked away. “Jim?”
“I'm fine.”
“Are you-”
“Just go, Uhura.” He said sternly, his eyes flashing. “You don’t have to pretend you suddenly like me. Leave me alone.” Nyota opened her mouth and closed it again without replying.
“Yes, Captain.” She snapped. “Good night.”
She was fuming as she left, though she wasn't sure why. She didn't have any right to Jim’s secrets, but...but most of their friends and classmates were dead. Most of their instructors were dead. No one else had been through what the crew of the Enterprise had and she wanted some sort of camaraderie, some support.
Jim had layers and layers of secrets, and he didn't trust her with them. That was fine.
Jim was hurting, deeply, and she wanted to help and he wouldn't let her in. That was his choice.
Jim was not the smarmy, one-dimensional character she'd initially wrote him off as, and she felt guilty about her initial dismissal. That, she didn’t know how to fix.
Guilt churned in her stomach as she made her way to comm center to check that everything was running smoothly. It didn't recede as she readied herself for bed. She was almost asleep when one of her roommates, Kyhara, woke her.
“Someone's at the door.” She whispered.
“Who?”
“The Captain. Well, Acting Captain. Jim Kirk.” Kyhara continued quietly. If she was curious, she didn't let it show.
Nyota pulled on her uniform shirt and quietly slipped out the door.
Jim looked like hell, eyes bloodshot and wet. “I'm sorry.” He said, voice hoarse and cracking.
“Me too.” Nyota smiled begrudgingly. “I crossed a line.”
Jim shook his head. “No, I'm sorry. You were trying to help. I'm just...stressed.” He said, expression souring at how truly inadequate that word was.
She couldn't help but laugh. “Understandably, yeah.”
He chuckled, scrubbing at his face. “Yeah.” He rocked back on his heels, letting his arms drop limply to his side. “I can't eat.”
“Are you hungry?” She asked, confused.
“Yes. Well, no. But…” he ran a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps away from her. “I should, but I can't.”
Someone rounded the corner and Jim immediately straightened, a mask slipping over his features and just like that, he looked carefree and normal. Nyota felt sick at the ease with which he concealed himself.
As soon as the other person was out of sight, Jim slumped back against the wall. “I don’t know what to do. Pike is still sedated, I wish...I want to know what to do. What’s right?”
Nyota shifted on her feet. “Honestly, we just need to get home. You’ve made room for the refugees, you’ve given people a way to call their families, we’ve rationed the food so we’ll be able to…” She trailed off as Jim covered his face. “What?”
He looked up at her vulnerable, eyes shining with emotion, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”
“Obviously, it’s not.” She countered.
“Bones is so busy.” He began, an apparent non-sequitur until he continued. “And Gaila was the only other one who knew.” He took a deep breath. “Something bad happened, when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorr-“
“Let me finish.” He took a shaky breath. “And now, sometimes, it’s hard for me to eat. And when I don’t eat, my blood sugar gets low. And when that happens...I get flashbacks. To the bad thing.”
“Jim…” she touched his arm and she could feel the tremors running through him. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He said. “Anyway, I just, I thought you should know. Someone should know.”
“Thank you.”
She had trouble falling back to sleep, wondering at what else she’d gotten wrong. Jim was nothing like she had pictured, like he’d let her believe. She wondered how many other people she had dismissed. How many other of their classmates had she decided weren’t worth her time, and now she’d never have the opportunity to know them?
Jim was a ball of nervous energy on the bridge, unable to sit still. He’d taken three calls from the admiralty back at Starfleet, and no one envied him having to explain their situation.
Spock sat in on one of the calls. He seemed to be slowly adapting to Jim's approach to leadership which appeared, on the outside at least, a strategy to have as many balls in the air as possible. Jim bounced from assignment to assignment, backtracking when he thought of a way to speed up a process.
Spock looked like he may develop whiplash.
Another alpha shift gave way to another Beta shift, and Nyota was stopped in the mess hall by Spock, who appeared at the edge of her vision after she'd received her rations.
“Nyota. May I join you for dinner?” He asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
They settled at an empty table, tucked away in the back of the mess hall. The officers mess was being used as a private dining area for the Vulcan refugees.
“How are you doing?” Nyota asked, halfway into the meal. He looked tired, though he kept a neutral expression. “If you need anyone to talk to, I'm here.”
“Thank you.” He nodded. “I am physically unharmed. I realize I am very fortunate, in that regard.”
“It's not just physical injury that hurts.” She said gently.
His expression faltered minutely, guarded mask slipping just a bit. “You have spoken with Acting Captain Kirk?” Spock said, changing the subject.
Nyota let the diversion go uncontested; she couldn't make Spock talk about losing his mother, losing his entire planet. “Yes.”
“Were you close?”
“No, not at all. I barely know him. He dated Gaila, a bit.” Nyota said. It hurt to say her name, and it hurt more not to think of her.
Spock nodded slowly. “I grieve with thee.” He said gently, meeting her eyes. His face was softened and his dark eyes deep pools of sorrow.
“Thanks.” Nyota wiped her eyes on her sleeve, sniffling. “I keep thinking, I should've been on that ship too.”
Spock swallowed, uncomfortable. His hand inched towards hers on the table, close enough she could feel his heat without touching. He wouldn't, not in public, but she appreciated the thought.
“I'm sorry.” She forced a laugh, drying her eyes again.
“There is no need to apologize.” He assured her. “I am also here for you.”
“Thank you, Spock.”
They parted ways after leaving the mess hall and, unable to sit still, Nyota found herself wandering the ship. She arrived in engineering, where she found Jim, only his feet sticking out from inside an intimidating piece of machinery.
Montgomery Scott was knelt at the entrance, shining a light in. He was offering a steady stream of commentary, laced with expletives. He stopped when Nyota came into view. “Oh! Excuse my French, lassie.”
Jim peered out, smiling at her. “Hey, what's up?”
“Just thought I'd check on your progress.”
“Slow but steady.” Scotty said as he stood, wincing when his knee cracked loudly. “Ow. I best be gettin’ back to work.” He winked at Nyota and disappeared around the corner
“Is everything alright?” Jim asked, crawling out of the machine. He had dark bags under his eyes, his hair matted down on his forehead.
“Everything's fine.” She assured him. “Just thought I'd check on you.”
“Oh.” He looked at her consideringly. “Thanks.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands.
“You look exhausted.” She said after an awkward pause.
“Low on coffee.” He joked.
“We’re still a week out from Earth.” She said. “You should get some rest. The crew needs a captain.”
He shrugged. “Bones thinks Pike’ll wake up soon.”
She shook her head. “That's not what I meant. They need you.”
“I might be expelled when we get back.” Jim countered. “Not exactly captain material.”
She sighed. “You know I’d hate to make your head any bigger, but you did literally save the planet. Even if the Admiralty wanted to, it would be PR suicide to get rid of you.”
“Great.” Jim snorted. “Promising.”
“You know what I mean. Cheating the Kobayashi Maru will seem insignificant after this.” She reasoned with him.
Jim shrugged, worrying at his lower lip as he wiped some oil off his knee. “I should get back to work.” He decided.
Days passed, each much the same as the one before. Repairs on the ship progressed slowly, they continued to ration, the crew operated on autopilot. There was no time to mourn, no time for reflection, no personal space. Nyota yearned got home in a way she never had before, while simultaneously dreading opening her door.
All of Gaila’s things were still intermingled with her own, and if they never arrived home, that would never change. She hated to think of packing them up in boxes for her family. She ached at the thought.
She was still deep in thought when she made her nightly trip to engineering. There was something reassuring about witnessing progress, however small. Each day, the machine rooms were a little more organized, a little more efficient.
She weaved a familiar path through the chaos, until she found the place Jim had been the last few days. Instead of working, he was hunched forward on his knees, half hidden amongst the machinery.
“Jim?” She asked. “Are you ok?”
He shook his head, one hand tight over his mouth. He was breathing too fast, his skin gone pale and clammy. He rocked slightly, back and forth.
“What's wrong?”
“Just...go.” He choked, words raspy and weak. He squeezed his eyes shut tight.
“Are you hurt?” She took a small step towards him.
“No. Go away.”
She knelt beside him. He flinched away from her, tensing when she raised her hand to console him. She dropped it back to her side.
“Do you really want to be alone?” She asked.
“...no.” He breathed, shaking harder.
“Ok.” She leaned against the wall, wishing she could do something. Jim swallowed a sob, trying to keep himself from falling apart.
Slowly, his muscles unclenched and he slouched beside her, exhausted and weak.
She waited for him, giving him time. Finally, he spoke. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.” She said. “When did you last eat? Or sleep?”
“Ha.” He laughed humorlessly, closing his eyes. “I don't know.”
“I know you don't want to, but you have to. You're still the captain. You have a job to do. A responsibility.” She eyed him meaningfully. “The crew needs you. They deserve your best.”
“Right.” He nodded. “I know you're right.” He looked at her, eyes red and wet. “I can't do enough.”
“You're doing too much.” She argued.
“I don't know.” He shrugged.
She stood abruptly. “Well, I do. Come on, you need to eat.” He watched her listlessly, no energy left in his body. “Kirk, c’mon
With difficulty, he made it to his feet, not protesting when she steadied him. He allowed her to steer him to the mess hall, accepting the rations provided. He stared at them blankly, like seeing them for the first time.
Jim was still losing his staring match with his food when Spock appeared. “Kirk. Uhura. This is not a standard meal time.”
Jim started to push the plate away and Nyota stopped him. “The applesauce was pretty good.” She said to Jim. Then, to Spock. “A little late. Are you alright?”
“I was speaking with the High Council. May I join you for this meal?” He looked between the two of them. Nyota wondered how much of Jim’s body language he could read.
“Sure.” Jim agreed. He took a bite of applesauce and shook his head, almost unable to swallow it.
Spock left to retrieve his plate and Jim looked at Nyota with abject panic in his eyes. “I can't eat this.” He whispered. “I can't.”
“Why?”
Jim looked on the verge of tears when Spock returned and he ducked his head to hide his face, pushing his food around his plate.
Still, Spock seemed to notice. “I have plomeek soup, if you would like to try it.” He offered. “Vulcans do not require sustenance at the same frequency as humans.”
“You're not hungry?” Jim asked, tentative.
“No. I require only a small amount of food at this time. A snack, as you say.”
Nyota watched, smiling, as Spock traded his soup for the apple sauce, knowing sweet fruits were the equivalent of decadent cakes to Vulcans. Spock took a bite, savoring it, and then waited for Jim to do the same.
“Many humans find the taste bland.” He explained.
“No, it's good.” Jim said, taking another spoonful. “Thank you, Spock.” He added gratefully.
“You're welcome.”
Spock and Nyota chatted quietly and Nyota wondered if she imagined Spock watching Jim like she was, monitoring the progress of his bowl. By the time he finished it, his cheeks were pink again and he looked healthy.
“Where have you been sleeping?” Spock asked. “You have not been assigned to a room.”
Jim shrugged. “Just, anywhere. In engineering, mostly.”
“That is unacceptable.” Spock shook his head. “You need a place to rest.”
“We’ll be back in a few days-”
“At which time, you will be interviewed extensively about what has transpired on this mission.” Spock said. “You will want to be well-rested for that.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Right.”
Spock produced his PADD and consulted it. “There is an empty bunk in the room of Montgomery Scott. Would that be satisfactory?”
“Yes, thank you.” Jim smiled, a broad and happy grin.
A full night of sleep and a square meal made a world of difference. Jim whistled on the bridge, cheerfully going about his work. He worked with Spock to organize a memorial service for the Vulcan refugees, which Nyota learned about over dinner.
“Kirk is surprisingly knowledgeable about Vulcan customs.” Spock stated. “We have scheduled a memorial service before we reach Earth. The High Council believes it is important.”
“Good.” Nyota nodded. “Everyone has been through so much already.”
“Indeed.” Spock nodded, eye contact lapsing. “Did you know Kirk has a rudimentary knowledge of the Vulcan language?”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes. He is fluent in several languages.” Spock continued. His eyes were bright, intrigued, and Nyota smiled. “Additionally, he is skilled with computer programming.”
“Well, you already knew that. He hacked the Kobayashi Maru.” Nyota pointed out. Spock’s mouth flattened, the corners almost downturned.
“This is true.” He stirred his soup. “Nyota, may I seek your opinion on a matter?”
“Of course.”
“In light of recent events, I believe I will recommend against seeking recriminations for Kirk’s third attempt at the Kobayashi Maru.” Spock said. “What are your thoughts?”
She paused to gather her thoughts before speaking. “Do you think he has shown that he understands the objective?” She asked. “He has been Acting Captain of the Enterprise and he has managed an arguably more difficult course than your trial.”
Spock tipped his head in agreement. “That was my thinking as well. He has proven to be a capable captain. I do not wish to make the return to earth more painful.”
Nyota couldn’t help but smile. Spock had found a logical basis for his decision, but she wondered if it was from a less logical, more human, origin. He seemed to like Jim, respected his intellect and his ideas. They had begun to repair their relationship since the Narada. It could be the start of an interesting friendship.
They were immediately separated and whisked away when they reached Earth, only a few moments allowed with their families. Nyota’s debriefing lasted 4 hours as they question and re-questioned her, asking her about the events that transpired, Kirk and Spock’s behavior, and her last-minute reassignment to the Enterprise.
It had been hard to keep her emotions in check during that line of questioning.
She was drained afterwards, though she knew Spock and Kirk would be interrogated far more intensely. Leaving the building, she reluctantly returned to her dorm.
Gaila’s things were still there, a time-capsule from a long-ago and distant world. Nyota flopped down on her bed, covering her face. She couldn’t bring herself to pack the things away, couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing them. Gaila was her closest friend. Rolling into her side, she smiled at the picture of them on the bedside table, falling asleep with fond memories close at heart.
She awoke to a series of gentle knocks on her door. Opening it, Jim was standing before her, changed into his civilian clothes.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” He asked, his voice rough and vulnerable.
“Sure.”
They walked around campus in silence, the night air cool and crisp. Finally, Jim stopped, sitting on the steps leading to the astronomy lab.
“Bones says Pike will make it.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.” Jim took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about Gaila.”
“Thanks.” Nyota looked over at him, surprised to see tears on his cheeks. “Jim?”
“They questioned me for 14 hours.” He whispered. “I tried my best, you know?”
“I know.”
“God, I miss Gaila.” He covered his face. “She was so strong.”
“She was.” Nyota agreed, her throat tightening as her own tears threatened to fall.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you better before.”
“Me too.” Nyota offered him a watery smile. “But here we are.”
Jim nodded, staring into the distance. “Here we are.” He repeated anemically. He leaned forward, hiding his face in his hand. His shoulders shook and he sobbed quietly, letting himself crumble.
Nyota hugged him, her tears going no further than the shoulder of his shirt, unseen. They sat together, half embracing and half using the other for support.
Footsteps on the sidewalk alerted her of someone else’s presence. Looking up, she saw Leonard, silhouetted against the night sky. Wordlessly, he joined them on the steps, wrapping an arm around Jim’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. Above them, stars twinkled and Nyota couldn’t help but think the universe felt different, now that she had seen the very worst of it.
Leonard stretched his arm, his hand landing in the middle of Nyota’s back, warm and heavy. She looked at him and he offered her a haggard smile. He didn’t speak; there was nothing to say. Words were heavy and imprecise. Silence could encapsulate their lost and loneliness, silence could bundle them up close and keep them warm. Silence left uncomfortable parts of the past alone, at least long enough to let the wounds start to heal.
Slowly, Jim calmed and the tears on Nyota’s cheeks dried. Jim sat up, looping his arm around her and leaning into Leonard’s chest. He cleared his throat and recited in a low voice, “Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” He turned his face towards the sky. “Good bye, Gaila.”