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The many lights of Paris glittered overhead, shimmering like thousands of stars.
Below them James T. Kirk raced down one crowded city street after another, glancing at the chronometer on his chest as he desperately waited for it to reboot.
“Jim.” Leonard McCoy’s voice crackled in his earpiece, “they’re pushing the line, we need you here now”—a crackle of static and a muffled explosion—“damnit, they’ve blown the barrier.”
“Shit!” Jim willed the clock on his chest to countdown faster, as he forced himself to move even quicker.
Two more blocks.
Jim unholstered the two laser pistols at his hips twirling them in his hands to calm his nerves. He skidded out of a dead sprint onto the street, taking a few precious seconds to survey the scene.
Bones was flying above the street, doing his best to keep their people on their feet. Scotty was only a few feet away trying desperately to repair his turret while dodging enemy fire. Uhura backflipped off of a totaled car and landed next to him, pistol in one hand, stick of dynamite in the other.
“Nice of you to join us, Captain.” She admonished, tossing the stick of dynamite toward the enemy and catching it mid-air with a well aimed bullet, raining fiery hell on them.
Jim cracked a smile despite his nerves, “would’ve been here faster but the chronometer decided to crap out on the way.”
“It is ill-advised that you continue to operate with a piece of faulty machinery, Captain.” Spock warned, stepping out of shadow to appear next to them, a glowing orb in each hand. “Perhaps you should allow Mr. Scott to take a look.”
Jim waved away his concern. “There’ll be time for that later, Spock. Now, where is Chekov?”
“I’m here, Captain.” A strong Russian accent came over Jim’s earpiece.
“Status report, Mr. Chekov.”
“There’s not too many of ‘em here at the moment, Captain. But if we let this go on much longer, we’ll have to worry about reinforcements.”
“Roger that, Mr. Chekov, stay out of sight until we need you.”
Chekov chuckled quietly, “that shouldn’t be too hard, Captain.”
Kirk glanced down at his chest as the chronometer finally beeped to life. “About time,” he muttered pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you concur with Mr. Chekov’s assessment, Nurse Chapel?”
“Yes, Captain. I’ve got 5 in my sights, but no clear shot.”
Kirk glanced up at the roof behind them, just catching sight of a grey hood before Chapel ducked out of sight again.
“Alright, crew. Looks like we’ve got a job to do. Nurse Chapel, let’s finally put that cybernetic eye to good use, shall we? Watch our six.”
“Of course.”
“Scotty, you find a higher vantage point and see if you can’t build some more turrets.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Uhura, follow him and run cover fire. Those turrets can do a lot of damage, and we’re going to need them if we want to finish this before reinforcements show up.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Bones keep doing what you’ve been doing.”
Bones cursed under his breath as dodged a stray enemy bullet, firmly trying to heal everyone at once from 50 feet in the air.
“Why don’t you ask for a miracle instead, Jim? Might be easier to pull off.”
“Oh, lighten up, Bones.”
Jim twirled the pistols one last time in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. “Spock, you’re with me. Let’s see if we can’t give Mr. Chekov a hand.”
“Certainly, Captain.”
Everything was suddenly a blur of motion. As two of the fastest on the team, Spock and Jim had no trouble getting behind enemy lines. What were easy picking at first quickly began to escalate as the enemy fixed in on their location.
Jim spun through the air in a desperate attempt to dodge three separate sprays of bullets. One bullet caught him in the leg, and he nearly went down, executing a last second chrono-reversal to duck behind a corner, the damage on his leg healed through a chronal anomaly.
He leaned back against the wall panting heavily, each temporal manipulation took a bit out of him, and he’d just done several dozen in the span of a few minutes. He could feel sweat soaking through his gold shirt, they could only last so long.
The wall he was leaning against shook, and stone dust rained down on him as one of Uhura’s dynamite sticks shook the building.
“How’re things on your end, Mr. Chekov?” Jim asked touching his earpiece and allowing himself a few seconds more rest.
“About as good as it can be, Captain.” Chekov’s breathing was heavy as he answersed, and Kirk could hear live blaster fire on his end. “I’ve managed to hack one of their omnics, but the other got in the shoulder. Though thankfully not my good shoulder, but I can’t get in the open long enough for Chapel’s help.”
“Mr. Spock,” Kirk turned to the man next to him, “sounds like he needs your help more than I do.”
“Captain—” Spock began to protest.
“That’s an order, Mr. Spock.”
Spock frowned minutely. “Of course, Jim.” And in a flash of purple, he was gone.
The wall shook again, and rocks rained down around him. Shaking himself slightly Jim activated the chronometer once more, popping around the corner in a flash.
“How’s that turret coming, Mr. Scott?” Jim asked, flashing out of the way as a bullet barely missed his head.
“I’m giving her all she’s got, Captain.” Scotty’s strained reply came over the comms. “She can only take so much of this.”
“Copy that, Mr. Scott.”
Jim flashed behind an approaching omnic, lighting its control panel with a barrage of laser fire. It sparked and smoked before dropping to ground in a heap of scrap metal.
Jim tapped his earpiece, “let’s see if we’ve got one last good push in us.” He jumped back as the omnic he’d just downed began to smoke dangerously. “Shit! This one’s gonna blow, I’ve gotta get its core to higher ground so it can detonate away from civilians.”
“Jim, no! Are you out of your goddamn—” Jim switched off his communicator, a dangerous move in the heat of battle, but he wouldn’t be able to concentrate with Bones yelling in his ear.
Jim wasted precious seconds looking for a safe place to toss the core, all the while the core began to spark. There were two options: The Seine, or The Eiffel Tower.
This time of night, neither of them was likely to crowded. The Tower would be closed but that didn’t stop the occasional dumb kids from sneaking up to make out, and he didn’t have time to clear it out. The Seine was easier to check for occupants, and had stretches where hardly anyone ever ventured.
The River it was.
Jim grabbed the core in one swift motion. He turned the dial on his chronometer, he’d need ever last bit of juice to get to an un-occupied piece of the Seine.
He took off in a dead sprint, ignoring the two separate beeps, one from his chronometer and one from the core. The beeping was good, if either of them stopped beeping before he reached his destination, he’d likely be dead.
Jim turned left at the first available cross-street, wishing he’d paid more attention to the map of Paris that had laid on their planning table only a few days ago. Then a right, down four blocks.
He skidded to a halt, where was the damn river?!
Miraculously, he caught the scent of salt on the air.
The River! He had to be close.
Two more wrong turns, though miraculously it was only seconds, later, he himself at a bend in Seine. Jim’s heart sank as he confront with a fact he’d forgotten, the land around the Seine was heavily populated by occupied buildings. The only way this blast wouldn’t level the block was if he got it the bottom of the river, the water would help contain it.
Jim glanced at his hands, the core was moderately sized, but there was no guarantee it would sink on its own.
The core beeped ominously and Jim jumped.
The water was cool without the sun to warm it, under other circumstances, it would’ve been almost pleasant. It was dark and the currents buffeted him slightly, as he struggled to orient himself. The deepest point would be in the middle of the river.
He angled himself down, swimming toward the bottom of the river. It was cumbersome work, swimming with one hand, while the other fought to keep ahold of the core.
It was eerie in the dark gloom, his eyes strained to make out anything. The dim blinking glow of the chronometer on his chest, flickering between lit gloom and impenetrable darkness.
Something brushed his foot and Jim barely suppressed a shudder, logically he knew the only thing in these waters were fish. But in the gloom, it could have very well been some otherworldly creature.
The bottom appeared moments later, he had no way of knowing if he’d hit the middle like he’d hoped, but it would have to work. He groped blindly along the riverbed, hoping for something to attach the core to. Rock, kelp, a discarded piece of net, anything.
Jim tried to gasp involuntarily, but he caught himself at the last moment. He running out of time, he needed air . He could feel his movements becoming slower, he simply didn’t have enough oxygen.
Hopefully, I can hold it down here before it blows…
This time he couldn’t stop the involuntary gasp, black spots exploded in his vision as he chocked on a mouthful of water.
Damnit , the core was slipping.
You were right, Bones. I always come up with the worst plans…
Jim Kirk sat up with a gasp, surprised to be alive.
It was far from the first time he should’ve died, but it was the first time he’d died alone.
Someone smacked across the back of the head. “You absolute idiot.”
“Your bedside could really use some work, Bones.”
“People who were very recently dead don’t get to be quippy, Jim. What the hell were you thinking!?”
“I missed you too, Bones. Did we win?”
Bones muttered something about ‘ungrateful patients’ before he answered. “Yes.” He rubbed his forehead as though it pained him. “We’d just managed to take them down with a final push, when we saw the Seine exploded. The water was at least 20 feet high. You were dead when Spock pulled you out of the water, Jim. Fully dead. You’re lucky my staff had as much juice left as it did or you would’ve stayed that way.”
But Jim had stopped listening, his mind fixating on one word in Bones’ tirade.
“Spock. Where is he?”
Something in Bones’ expression shifted. “Look, Jim. It was a hard fight, I’m not sure if—”
“Where is he, Leonard?”
Bones sighed, “he’s in his room.”
“Thank you.” Jim moved to sit up even though his body groaned in protest. “You couldn’t get rid of the aches and pains too, couldn’t you, Bones.”
“Just be happy I brought you back to life at all, idiot.” Bones spoke gruffly, moving forward to help Jim up. “But you aren’t leaving medical without crutches, you need to heal.”
“Fine.” Jim snapped impatiently. All of his focus going into getting out of the cot without falling over.
Bones rolled his eyes, “don’t think I won’t confine you to bed rest.” He threatened, though there was no heat behind his words. Bones never actually tried to keep Kirk and Spock apart after a mission, beyond the usual cursory comment that neither of them better do anything to rip their stitches.
“Love you too, Bones.” Jim hollered over his shoulder as he hobbled his way out of medical.
Spock’s room was thankfully on the same floor as medical, Jim wasn’t sure he could handle stairs in crutches (not that it would stop him from trying ).
Jim gently nudged the door to Spock’s room open with his crutch.
It’s familiar layout greeted him, subtly painted with just the barest hints of warm desert sand. The walls were empty except for a large landscape painting on the far wall.
Spock sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room, a pose he generally reserved for mediation. Currently, however, he was typing away furiously on a holographic screen.
He didn’t even glance up as Jim entered.
“Spock?” Jim asked cautiously, concerning staining his tone.
Spock’s back stiffened at Jim’s voice, and his movement halted.
“Jim.” Spock’s voice was as cool and calm as it ever was, only because he knew him so well could Jim detect the slight tremor in his voice. “I am surprised that Dr. McCoy allowed you to leave medical so quickly.”
“I didn’t give him much choice.” Jim chuckled wryly, attempting grasp the levity in the situation. “Bones made me take the crutches though.” He added, lightly tapping the tip of one against the floor.
“Well,” Spock paused before continuing, “I will trust your judgement as always, Captain.”
In the private setting and directly on the heels of Spock calling him by his given name, being addressed as ‘Captain’ felt like a slap in the face.
“Spock,” Jim pleaded, setting the crutches down and kneeling at his back. “Please look at me.”
There was a pause, and Jim could practically hear the gears in Spock’s mind turning, but his lover rarely begrudged him the little things.
Spock turned around slowly, ‘til they were practically nose to nose. Jim leaned forward cautiously, giving Spock the opportunity to pull away. He gently rested his forehead against his lover’s.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jim breathed into the silence. He felt Spock shudder at the words, could smell his tears, feel their heat as they travelled down his face, only a few inches away. He didn’t open his eyes, gently holding his lover as Spock’s sobs echoed around the quiet room. “I gave you an order, and the mission always comes first.”
Spock shook his head slowly, and Jim chuckled wetly.
“One day when we’re both old and grey and Overwatch is long behind us, I promise we can put each other first.”
Jim kissed him fiercely, Spock’s lips tasted like salt, and he hiccuped silently as they kissed.
“One day.” Spock echoed back, it was a promise.