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Chapter Text

December 2257

It had been an otherwise unremarkable, pleasantly sunny weekday afternoon. Or, at least, it had been when she'd entered the library two hours ago. But now, as she hurried down the sidewalk to her dorm, she shivered against the ominously-darkening sky. Her shoulder bag was heavy with PADDs and though she was desperate for a cup of tea, the distinct chill in the air made her eager to go for a run. But not if those clouds open up, she thought. I don’t mind jogging in the rain, but I’m not going to voluntarily go running in a monsoon.

Thunder rumbled in response, a low, growling sound that set her teeth slightly on edge. The sound of thunder had always made her think of a wild animal, poised and ready to pounce. She shook her head at herself. You’re ridiculous, you know the mechanics of thunder, she chided herself, then glanced back at the clouds. They were getting ready to open up; she was never going to make it back to her building before it started to rain. Cup of tea it is, she decided as another rumble of thunder growled through the sky.

She made it to the mess just moments before the sky overhead opened in a deluge of massive raindrops, grateful that she’d left the library when she had but irritated that, instead of heading back to her dorm to change and go for a run, she was now stuck in the mess for…well, awhile, if the color of the clouds outside was any indication. She sighed.

The mess was relatively empty; most cadets were either in class or at the library, or else seeking refuge from the rain in their dorms. She recognized a few faces, waved to them, but was relieved that she could get her tea and drink it in some semblance of solitude. Exam season was always a stressful time of year, and she'd promised Gaila that she would try to make sure she took time for herself. She helped herself to a tall cup of tea and settled at a table near the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the mess, content to watch the raindrops splatter on the pavement outside with all the impact of small bombs. Thunder made her nervous, yes, but she found rain rather soothing.

The urge to reach into her bag and pull out a PADD to make use of this time was almost overwhelming, but she stopped herself; she deserved this break. Her brain was tired, and she wasn’t going to retain anything she studied. Let yourself relax, Nyota. Enjoy your tea and give yourself a break. It will not ruin you to take ten minutes to yourself, she thought. The raindrops outside seemed to fall even heavier in response. Twenty minutes, she amended, blowing gently on her tea.

Outside, a professor sprinted up to the doors of the mess. Belatedly, she realized that she recognized the short black hair—and then, he turned and she caught a glimpse of familiar pointed ears. He paused under the overhang and attempted to collect himself, adjusting his sodden black jacket and wiping water off his face. His tense posture reminded her of a cat who’d been forcibly given a bath. Nyota smiled to see it; Commander Spock had never given the impression that he would be bothered by something so trivial as rain, but here he was, looking for all the galaxy like he would be pleased to cut the gods of weather down to size with his razor-sharp wit.

He straightened, opened the door to the mess, and strode inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him pause and take stock of his surroundings, before approaching the replicator bank and appropriating a hot beverage. When he turned, she caught his eye and offered him a wave. He inclined his head back and, after a moment’s hesitation, walked to her table. His polished, soaked boots squeaked on the floor as he approached. “Cadet Uhura,” he greeted her.

“Commander,” she replied. She set her drink on the table to stand; he shook his head once, decisively.

“Please, do not get up. It is gratifying to see that you managed to avoid the rain.”

She smiled faintly. “I’m sorry that the same can’t be said for you, sir. Would you care to sit?” she replied, gesturing to the chair across from her. “Unless you got that drink to go,” she added with a small smile. He shook his head.

“Indeed, I believe that neither I, nor my drink, will be going anywhere for another twenty-seven point four minutes,” he replied. She laughed.

“Indeed,” she echoed as he sat. “What are you doing out without your umbrella? I thought I saw one by your office door this morning,” she asked, picking up her tea and taking another sip. His facial expression didn’t change, but she’d worked with him long enough to recognize the minute furrowing of his brow as his Vulcan equivalent of a human scowl.

“My attention was otherwise engaged as I left my office this afternoon,” he explained. “An oversight which I am deeply regretting at the moment.”

“Ah, but is regret not an emotion, Commander?” she arched an eyebrow at him.

“Indeed, but I feel it nonetheless. Such environmental stimuli is sufficient cause, I find.”

Nyota laughed outright, earning her a few strange, surprised looks from the people at other tables around them; no doubt, not many people could claim to be witness to someone laughing at something Commander Spock said. But the look on his face, combined with a tone that could only be called grumpy, hit her funny bone just right.

The Commander’s reputation for being a hardass was well known, if unearned, in her opinion. The more she got to know him, the more she realized that he simply expected the same level of dedication and attention to detail out of his colleagues and students, as he did from himself. Unfortunately, many of his colleagues and students failed to live up to his expectations. She liked to think that she managed to meet his expectations, at the very least; he rarely had cause to criticize the work she did for him as his aide, and she had been one of the only students in his class to pass with her nerves intact. “Vulcan is a desert planet, right?” she commented. "How much rain does it get in a year, on average?"

“It is,” he replied. He sipped his own tea, his hair still plastered to his forehead and around his ears. She watched a bead of water roll down the side of his face and into the collar of his jacket before he could brush it away. He shivered imperceptibly. “It receives an average of eight-point-seven-four millimeters of precipitation on average in a year, and the average temperature is thirty degrees Celsius.”

“In other words, it's the complete opposite of San Francisco.” 

“Indeed,” he agreed. “I understand that Nairobi’s weather is quite similar to that of San Francisco."

“Quite—although thunderstorms like this are a bit of a rarity,” she replied. “The temperature and the rain are similar, though, you’re correct.” She smiled and sipped her tea, which was starting to cool.

Sitting here, sipping tea and chatting with Commander Spock while the storm thundered outside, was surprisingly relaxing. She never really got a chance to sit and just talk with him. In his office, he was always attending to business, and she hadn’t ever felt comfortable interrupting him unless she had a question about her work. They rarely saw each other outside of his office. But this, now, was nice; Vulcans didn’t engage in small talk, as far as she could tell, but he seemed comfortable enough talking with her, despite the admittedly cool temperature of the mess and his soaked uniform.

Their conversation fell into a natural lull; she sipped her tea a little more quickly and watched the rain outside. It was coming down much slower, the sound of it a steady pat-pat that contributed to her sense of peace. She smiled to herself. Maybe Gaila was on to something with taking time to herself.

She turned to Commander Spock to comment as such, but when she turned, she caught a look on his face that she wasn’t sure how to decipher. He was watching you, she realized. She felt her cheeks flush and squashed back the tiny, pleased twist in her gut. No, he had definitely been watching her as she sipped her tea. What could he have meant by it? If he were human, she would have assumed he was going to try to hit on her next. It was a tired routine.

But he wasn't human. 

She tipped her cup to her mouth again, suddenly feeling shy; it was a very foreign feeling. If it had been Jim Kirk sitting across from her, he would have been leering, not looking, and she wouldn’t have hesitated to give him a piece of her mind. But Spock was not Kirk. Commander Spock, she reminded herself. A commissioned officer, your former professor, and your current supervisor. So cool your jets, girl, because fraternization is a thing. The gentle peace of their little corner of the mess had fled and she felt the sudden impulse to flee, as well. She swallowed hard and stood. “Um, I’m--I'm going to get a refill. Can I get you one, too, Commander?” she asked.  She tried to keep her voice even.

“No, thank you, Cadet,” he replied.

She nodded and strode back to the replicators. As her cup filled, she took the opportunity to study his profile; the irony of her perusal of him, after his so upended her, was not lost on her.

He definitely had the tall, dark, and mysterious thing going. A strong nose and strong brows were almost enough to distract her from the humanity she thought she saw in his eyes at times. His ears were familiar enough that she barely noticed the delicate points anymore; her eyes drifted to the long, graceful fingers wrapped tightly around his cup of tea and she swallowed hard at the sudden flare of attraction that shot through her gut.

She realized with a start that her own cup was full. But before she could turn and retrieve it, he turned and met her eyes.

Busted, she thought. The bashful blush that had just receded from her cheeks came back with a vengeance as she turned her eyes back to the replicator. Could she just leave her tea there and run? Make up some emergency and leave, even though it was still raining outside? What was a little water, anyway? She wouldn’t melt if she went out in the rain.

No. She inhaled deeply and picked up her cup. She was better than that. She could face him, face the fact that she’d been caught studying him. After all, he’d been studying her, too. She strode back to their table with a confidence she didn’t quite feel; he said nothing as she sat, but she could feel him watching her out of the corner of his eye.

The silence between them was heavier, now, and she couldn't think of a way to lighten it. So she blew gently on her tea and avoided his eyes for several increasingly tense minutes, before her PADD pinged with an incoming message. Glad for the distraction, she set her cup down and pulled it out, then scanned the brief message with a sigh. 

“Is something amiss?”

Startled, she looked up. “Oh, no. My chorale practice tonight was canceled. It’s a good thing—I have my first final in three days and there’s some last minute studying I could be doing instead.”

“I find it hard to believe that you are ill-prepared for your exams, Cadet. You have demonstrated an admirable dedication to your studies.”

Damn that flush. She didn’t do this—she didn’t get flustered by compliments. You picked a hell of a time to start, she chided her brain. “Oh—thank you, Commander.”

He acknowledged her reply with an small nod. He glanced around them, then back out at the rain, which had turned into a steady shower. “If you have yet to acquire sustenance, perhaps you would care to join me for a meal?" he asked. The usual, even cadence of his voice was slightly rushed as he continued. "As it is still raining steadily and the hour grows later, options for acquiring food elsewhere grow slim, and though the food here is, admittedly, not what one might consider palatable, it is of sufficient nutritional value that it should aid in optimal functioning of your nervous system, therefore rendering—,”

“Commander,” she interrupted, slightly aghast at her nerve—had she just interrupted a senior officer?--but also feeling a bit of her nerves fade at the clear display of his, “that sounds nice. Thank you, sir, I’d like that.” He just asked you to have dinner with him, she thought. 

It's just a meal, she admonished herself before the butterflies in her stomach fluttered out of control. It's late, it's raining, and you're both hungry. This is not a date, it's...convenient.

A small smile crossed her face, though. She hadn’t ever heard him ramble before. It was endearing.

/*\

December 2257-April 2258

They had at least one meal together a day over the next month, through exams and the winter break. She stayed on campus to oversee a number of research projects she was working on, and he confessed that though he usually traveled to some of Earth’s more notable geographic regions during breaks, he was committed to overseeing installation of lab equipment in the science labs on the newly-constructed Enterprise, and therefore obligated to stay on campus.

When the spring semester started, Nyota assumed that their meals together would stop; after all, she was busy with courses and chorale and tutoring and labs and her new position as a TA for a different faculty member, and Spock was busy with his duties as an instructor and simulation programmer, as well as with his duties and obligations as the Enterprise's first officer. But though they couldn't meet with the same frequency as they had over the winter break, they could and did manage to eat together at least once a week. Sometimes they met for breakfast, sometimes lunch, sometimes dinner...whenever they both had time, they would meet in the mess and eat and chat easily together, sometimes for hours; their conversations ranged from career plans to traveling to intergalactic politics, to family and hobbies and any other infinite number of topics in between.

At first, they'd garnered some bewildered looks from other cadets and faculty members, but before long, Nyota stopped noticing if other beings were reacting to the sight of her and the taciturn Commander Spock, regularly engaging in quiet conversation over questionably-palatable mess-hall food. Their meals together were the only time Nyota gave herself that wasn't dedicated to her studies, and she never regretted foregoing her studies for those few quiet, meaningful hours with him.

There was just something about the way Spock's shoulders relaxed when he caught sight of her, about the way his eyes brightened and his expressions became more animated while they talked, that caused a lovely twisting feeling in her stomach.

The spring semester passed quickly, with their meals together the bright spots in her otherwise overly-stressed weeks. It didn't take long for Gaila and Hikaru to notice how she looked forward to her weekly meal with Spock with more enthusiasm than she garnered for much of anything else, though neither said anything to her about it directly; Gaila just made off-hand comments about wearing pretty lingerie, and Hikaru only smirked knowingly at her when it came up.  

She should have known that it wouldn't stay so easy for long.

/*\

April 2258

“I apologize,” she murmured, reading his missive out loud, as though reading it out loud would make it hurt less than it had the first time she’d read it, “but I must cease meeting you for meals.”

“That’s it?” Nyota jumped as Gaila walked out of the bathroom, toweling dry her hair. “That’s all? No explanation, no nothing?” She sounded offended on Nyota's behalf.

“He doesn’t owe me any explanations,” Nyota murmured back.

“Hogwash,” Gaila pronounced decidedly as she tossed her wet towel on her bunk. Nyota felt her eyebrows lift to her hairline.

“Say what?”

“Oh—did I not use it correctly?” Gaila paused in her perusal of her drawers for her clothes. She frowned for a moment, apparently thinking hard. “No, I’m sure I did.” 

“You've been hanging out with Leonard, haven’t you?” Nyota asked.

Gaila laughed. “Not exactly—but I have been spending quality time with Jim. He and Leonard are a package deal,” Gaila replied lightly. Nyota grimaced.

“Gaila, girl, please tell me that you haven’t dragged poor Leonard down to you and Kirk’s level,” she groaned.

“Of course not. Leonard isn’t quite…adventurous enough, for my tastes,” Gaila assured her with a cheeky wink. “And don’t change the subject—we were talking about how Spock does, in fact, owe you an explanation.”

“How do you figure?” Nyota asked, sinking down on her bed and reading the message once more.

“Because he’s your friend, Nee,” Gaila replied gently. She slipped on a shirt and a pair of shorts, then flopped onto Nyota’s bed with her.

Nyota shook her head. “No,” she sighed, even though she couldn’t deny the sting of it. Gaila was absolutely right—Nyota had come to consider him a friend. An empty feeling opened in her chest.

If she was being honest, she'd could admit that, at some point, he had come to mean more to her than a simple friend. He had a way of listening to her with his undivided attention; they spoke with each other as intellectual equals, and he treated her with respect as a sentient being--something most of the cadets who tried to hit on her failed at, miserably. And God, the way she caught him watching her, sometimes, with an almost fond affection, with admiration, with...with an attracted intensity that made her breath catch in her chest...she sighed. His abrupt message was unexpected and, damn it all, it hurt.

“Hogwash. And yes, I used it correctly.”

“No, he’s not, Gay—he’s my former professor and my former supervisor and he’s a commissioned senior officer—he’s a great many things, Gaila, but he’s not my friend,” Nyota whispered. To her surprise, she felt a tear slip out of her eye and roll down her cheek. She hastily tried to wipe it away before Gaila could see, which was an exercise in futility, because Gaila always somehow knew when she was upset. Gaila sat up and cupped Nyota's cheek.

“Oh, sweetie—would you be crying over him if he weren’t?” Gaila asked. Nyota could think of nothing to say to that.

/*\

“Nyota?” The deep, even voice over her shoulder caught her by surprise. She realized she’d been dozing over her PADD; probably not a good idea, given that she’d ventured out from the academy, desperate for a change of scenery. She hadn't been able to stop repeating Spock's message, over and over in her head, on campus where the threat of running into him was always present. It was like trying to avoid running into an ex, despite the fact that she and Spock had never crossed any sort of line into fraternization. I kind of wish we had, she thought ruefully. Then at least all this angst would be worth it. But because she couldn't focus on campus, she'd taken her PADDs and come into the city proper. The park around her was peaceful and as safe as anyplace got in the city, but it was still a public place.

"Nyota?" the voice repeated. "Are you well?" She turned around.

Spock was there, behind her bench, wearing civilian clothing and a concerned look on his face. She blinked a few times and shook her head, trying to make sense of his sudden appearance and the feeling like she might have been having a very lucid dream. “Spock? I mean—Commander. What…what are you doing here?” She hastened to stand. In her haste, she stumbled over her half-asleep legs and caught herself on the back of the bench, but not before she saw him step forward and reach out reflexively as though to catch her. His hands retreated behind his back quickly when it became apparent she was stable again.

“Your roommate came to see me this morning during my office hours. She informed me that I owe you a sincere apology,” he replied. If she wasn’t mistaken, he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “She also informed me of your intended whereabouts, with the expectation that my sincere apology be delivered sooner rather than later.”

Nyota sighed. Gaila’s heart was in the right place, but she was the most interfering Orion Nyota had ever met. “You don’t owe me anything, Commander. She shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“On the contrary, Nyota,” he replied quietly. He gestured to the bench next to her. “May I join you?”

Nyota nodded. He folded himself onto one end of the bench; she sat at the opposite end, not daring to look at him. When he spoke, he sounded as serious as ever. “Your roommate was correct that I owe you an apology. In addition, I owe you an explanation,” he started quietly. “I have been made aware that my last communication to you was unnecessarily brusque. I do apologize for hurting your feelings, Nyota. Over the past months, I have come to regard you as...as an individual of considerable significance in my life. To have cut ties with no explanation or apology was rude, by human or Vulcan standards.”

“Apology accepted, Spock,” Nyota whispered. Commander, she mentally corrected herself. She glanced over in time to see him raise one eyebrow.

“I was led to believe that more…I believe she called it ‘groveling’, would be involved in currying forgiveness.”

Nyota laughed quietly, picturing how the scene in his office that morning must have gone. She pressed back a smile at the image of it. “No. We all make mistakes, Commander.”

“Indeed.” Spock appeared to consider this for a moment. “May I offer an explanation?”

“If you believe it's necessary, sir, but...but I don't need one.”

“I believe you should hear why I cut contact with you so abruptly, yes, Nyota. So you will understand my dilemma.”

“Dilemma?”

“It was brought to my attention that…speculation, concerning the state of relations between us, was circulating through the faculty,” he replied, looking forward. “Despite the fact that our interactions have always been nothing short of appropriate, it would appear that the impression of guilt was enough to convince some that we were engaged in a relationship more...intimate, than it truly was." That he faltered on the word intimate caused her heart to jump. "As such, I was called into a meeting with Admiral Barnett four days ago, concerning the nature of our interactions. He was convinced that nothing untoward occurred, but advised that I take pains to avoid the appearance of favoritism, both for your benefit and mine.”

“The…the appearance of favoritism,” Nyota murmured. It made sense now. “Of course. Because you’re Captain Pike’s First Officer and will be assisting in filling personnel spots for the Enterprise. Which everyone knows is the assignment I’ve been working towards for my entire time at the Academy.”

“And which you will likely earn, based solely on your performance, experience, talent, and merits garnered as a cadet,” Spock replied quickly. “I am capable of evaluating cadets objectively, regardless of my personal relationships, but I find that I would rather you be recognized for your achievements and not endure speculation that any position you earn was given to you based on your personal relationships.”

Nyota inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. “Thank you for your honesty, Spock,” she replied. She shot a glance at him. “Commander, I mean. Sorry, sir.”

“You have nothing for which to apologize, Nyota,” he replied.

She smiled faintly. She wouldn’t deny that it had hurt when he’d abruptly cut her out of his life. Even though she understood the reasons why now, she was smart enough to read between the lines. He was apologizing for hurting her feelings, and explaining why—not offering to rekindle the friendship that had felt so much more intimate in the weeks leading up to his curt message.

She stood with a sigh and picked up her bag, clutching her PADD to her chest. “Thank you for your apology, and thank you for explaining. When it comes time for ship assignments, and I’m assigned to the Enterprise like you seem to think I will be…I would like to pick up our friendship again, when the whole cadet thing is no longer an issue,” she said. “If it’s not too bold of me to say. Commander.”

Spock was looking up at her, his expression unreadable. “Indeed, it is not, Cadet,” he replied quietly after a long moment. He stood. “May I see you safely back to the academy grounds?”

An ache echoed through her chest. “I think that would defeat the purpose of this whole conversation, sir, to be honest,” she replied. She tried to muster a smile and shifted her PADD to one arm; it slipped and fell to the pavement at her feet, despite her attempt to catch it. 

Spock knelt and picked it up, turning it over carefully with his long fingers and examining it for cracks before lifting his eyes to hers and holding it out as he stood. "It bears minor damage around the edges, but appears otherwise intact," he said quietly. Don't we all? she thought ruefully as she reached to take it from him.

He watched her with the same quiet intensity he always had, and it hit her in that moment that she had come to mean as much to him, as he had to her. An individual of considerable significance. His dilemma was whether or not to put his personal desires above his professional integrity--he wasn't cutting ties with her because he wanted to. She swallowed hard; Barnett was right. And though he'd gone about it too abruptly, Spock had been right to put an end to their meals together, now, before either of them said or did something they couldn't take back. She swallowed hard. “Thank you, sir," she whispered. She straightened her shoulders and held up a ta'al. "Live long and prosper, Commander Spock.”

He hesitated for a long moment, before mirroring her gesture. "Live long and prosper, Nyota--Cadet Uhura."

She nodded, then turned and forced herself to keep her head held high as she walked away from him. And she didn’t look back as she trudged out of the park, even though she could feel the heat of his eyes on her until she rounded the corner to the nearest hoverbus stop.

/*\/*\

Chapter Text

May 2258

Vulcan was gone.

Nyota couldn’t believe it. She glanced over her shoulder at Spock, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped in the captain’s chair.

His mother was gone. Nyota’s heart ached for him. She watched as he stiffly pushed himself out of the chair and turned command over to Hikaru, then strode into the lift. As discreetly as possible, she pulled out her earpiece and made eye contact with the secondary linguist on the bridge. The young Andorian nodded at her and slid into the chair at the communications station, as Nyota managed to slip through the turbolift doors just before they closed.

Spock didn’t meet her eye as the lift descended. The silence between them was so thick that she suddenly couldn’t stand it; she reached out and stopped the lift, then turned to study him. At the unexpected stop of the lift, he raised his eyes to her. His eyes, which suddenly seemed so incredibly human, so incredibly vulnerable, were awash with grief and anger. She swallowed hard, tears coming to her own eyes; he had just lost the woman who gave birth to him--the one being in the galaxy who had always shown him unconditional acceptance and love, who had seen him for him, for his heart, and not his heritage. An anchor for him, certainly.

And now…she was gone. Senselessly, suddenly, violently...Nyota swallowed hard.

I see your heart, too, she thought. She couldn’t replace the meaning his mother had held in his life, and she would never want to. But she could try to ease the transition for him. To remind him that he wouldn’t be adrift—not if she had anything to say about it. Tears slipped out of her eyes as she stepped forward. She stood on her tiptoes, gripped his shoulders with her hands, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He did nothing at first—but his surprise faded quickly. He laced his hands around her waist and pulled her close. He deepened the kiss as she smoothed her hands up his shoulders and tangled them in the hair at the nape of his neck. It tingled all the way to her toes.

He pulled away before it could get too heated, and even though it was the right choice, her mind—and her hormones—protested loudly. It’s not about you right now, Uhura, she chided herself. “What do you need?” she whispered. He rested his forehead against hers, the whisper of an unspoken promise falling between them as he reached a gentle hand to cup her face, his other hand still warm on her hip. There would be time, later, after they tracked Nero down and brought him to justice–time to explore the sparks she felt between them, time to see if she could get him to kiss her like that again, time to grieve together for everyone they’d lost. Time to celebrate being alive.

“What I need,” he whispered back, “is for everyone to continue performing admirably.”

She swallowed hard again, then nodded and smiled sadly up at him and stepped back. “Okay,” she murmured as he re-engaged the lift. He stepped out a moment later, and all she could do was watch him go, the promise of later lingering with her tears.

/*\

Three days later

“Whoever you are—I swear to God, if you’re here to ask when the fucking comms relay is going to be up again so you can contact your fucking loved ones, I will boot your name to the bottom of the queue so hard you’ll feel it in your fucking testicles.” Nyota's voice was muffled and all he could see was the hem of her red skirt, her knees, and her boots, sticking out from underneath a communications console, an open tool bag nearby.

Hikaru raised an eyebrow and bit back the insane urge to laugh; he would never dare to laugh at Nyota, who was terrifying on the best of days. Needless to say, the past three days definitely didn't qualify. Besides, there wasn’t much that was supposed to be funny right now. They’d lost most of their classmates over Vulcan. Hell, they’d lost Vulcan. They’d almost been sucked through a black hole, their ship had almost been destroyed—it had been a wild couple of days.

Hikaru thought back to his last comm with Ben. Hikaru had given him the bare bones of their assignment—Enterprise, help Vulcan, call when I get back—l love you—before he’d needed to go. Ben had barely had time to say it back, but hearing him tell Hikaru he loved him, even in a rush, was enough to make Hikaru feel warm and happy inside. Even now, after so much loss, the idea of his boyfriend fanned a tiny flame of comfort in his chest.

He pushed aside the thought that Ben, or any of their families, might have been injured or killed when Nero’s drill collapsed in the bay. He was as eager as anyone to contact his loved ones, as much to assure himself of their safety as to reassure them of his, but he also realized that Nyota and the communications department wouldn’t be able to fix the damage done to their systems with any sort of speed. Communications panels were fussy work, a lot of tiny parts and wires and cables, and they required a close eye and steady hands. As a pilot, he had both, and he couldn’t stand being off-duty with nothing to keep him company but his thoughts, especially when his friends were all either dead over Vulcan space, or busy trying to get the Enterprise home.

“Wow, that’s pretty fucking sexist of you," he replied lightly. "Not to mention specist. Who says I’m a species or sex with testicles, anyway?” Nyota slid out from under her panel. She looked exhausted. He offered her a small smile. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” she sighed. “Sorry. I just…I know everyone is eager to make contact with their families, but we’re working as fast as we can and it’s just…,” she trailed off, then sighed again and shook her head. “They’re getting impatient. They don’t seem to realize we’re doing the best we can and that we’re just as worried about contacting our loved ones, too.” He caught the bitter note in her voice, the tears that glistened in her eyes before she blinked them away.

He lowered himself to the floor next to her. “Need a few extra hands?”

She sighed and offered him a wan smile back. “Sure, if you’re offering, we’ll take it. We can use all the capable help we can get.” She handed him a small spanner and gestured to the soldering tools and spare fuses at her side. “The fuses on this panel were fried—we need to repair the ones that are still showing any kind of appreciable connection—use the spanner to scan them, then solder them back together—and we need to pull and replace the ones that are completely dead.” She bit her lip. “We need to fix everything we can. Replacing is a last resort. We only have so many replacement fuses and no way to make more, until engineering can get someone boosting replicator output. Which, needless to say, isn’t exactly their priority right now.”

“Got it,” he replied. He leaned onto his back next to her, and they slid under the panel together. They worked in companionable silence for awhile, and Hikaru found himself lost in the almost mediative repetition of the work. Scan a fuse, solder it to repair it, scan to make sure the fix worked, move on to the next tiny fuse. Scan, solder, scan, move on. Scan, solder, scan, move on. Occasionally, he would have to replace a fuse, always with Nyota’s opinion and permission, but the work was monotonous enough to soothe some of the anxiety in his chest.

Scan, solder, scan, move on. Scan, solder, scan, move on. Scan, solder, scan, move on--

“I received the status of all the other ships that were deployed to Vulcan,” she whispered into the silence, some time later. Hikaru fumbled the spanner and almost dropped it on his forehead, his mind very forcibly wrenched back to those chaotic moments right after they’d dropped out of warp over Vulcan--to having to maneuver the Enterprise through a veritable starship graveyard, shutting out the fact that he was hitting bodies with her hull, that those bodies were people he knew, that those pieces of ships had once contained his friends, his classmates and his professors--he couldn't breathe for a moment, as his hands shook and he lowered them to his side.

“...and?” he finally managed, his voice no louder than hers in the hush of their little corner of the ship. He didn’t really want to know. But at the same time, if there was hope for survivors…he held his breath.

“Six were classified as destroyed, all souls lost,” she said quietly. “One was classified as adrift. There was hope for survivors, there.”

He thought back to standing with his classmates, waiting for ship assignments. Hood, Farragut, Truman–God, six starships destroyed. Most of his classmates were dead. Most of his professors were dead. Thousands of Starfleet personnel. He thought he might throw up. “Which ship made it?”

“The Hood,” she replied. She inhaled deeply. “Hikaru…Hikaru, Gaila was on the Farragut.” Nyota’s voice broke with a sob.

Hikaru’s breath caught in his throat and he turned to face her; she kept her gaze focused firmly ahead on the circuit board above her, but let her arms fall to her side. “She’s...God, she's dead, Hikaru, her name was on one of those fucking lists of ship personnel classified as deceased in the line of duty that I had to forward to Kirk--” she continued, her voice choking up. He swallowed hard at the memory of Gaila, her vivaciousness, her earnest pleasure in every small aspect of being alive. How life was an adventure for her–how much she’d loved Nyota and Pavel. Just watching her live her life, had often reminded Hikaru not to take the little things for granted.

It seemed impossible that a being so full of life was gone. She'd never tousle Pavel's curls again. She'd never tease Hikaru about being besotted with Ben again. And God, what was Nyota going to do without her? Tears sprung to his eyes and he inhaled shakily. 

Had her body been one of those he’d hit with the ship when they dropped out of warp? Bile burned in his throat; he swallowed it back. “'Yota, I'm...I’m so sorry, ‘Yota,” he whispered. He reached out and took one of her hands and squeezed tightly. She swallowed convulsively. Gaila had been like family to her.

“I was supposed to be on the Farragut, too,” she admitted brokenly. She let out a harsh sob. “Gaila was so excited—we were posted together, like we’d always hoped to be—but I was so bent out of fucking shape about not being assigned to the Enterprise that I barely noticed.”

“How are you here, then? Leonard sneak you on, too?”

Nyota shook her head and closed her eyes. “I bullied Commander Spock into changing my assignment. But I—I should have been there with her—she must have been so scared—she was my best friend, Hikaru. Like a sister to me—how could I have abandoned her like that?” She choked on another sob. “God, what do I do now?”

Hikaru shook his head and slid himself out from under the console, then reached back and grabbed her hand to pull her out, too. Sitting up, and without even bothering to get up from the floor, he pulled her into a tight hug. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back, her sobs harsh and deep.

The sound of their shared grief echoed loudly through the otherwise silent room around them.

/*\

Jim scrubbed a hand down his face. He was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. He felt too wired—like he’d had too much of Bones’ good coffee, chased down with a hypo full of adrenaline. His ribs twinged from Bones’ hasty patch job, his balance was still off after too many hits to the head to count, and his voice sounded like shit—hoarse and gravelly after being choked out twice that he could remember—but he was more than capable of helping out around the ship.

He and Spock had turned the conference room nearest to the bridge into their command post-slash-office, and Jim was also sharing the space with Scotty, Pavel, and Hikaru as quarters; Pavel and Hikaru had given up their living quarters to Vulcan refugees, and neither Jim nor Scotty had had assigned quarters to start with. Jim and Spock had agreed to meet first thing every morning, check in around ship’s noon, and then spend an hour or two every evening reviewing the ship status reports. In the meantime, they were assisting with repairs wherever and whenever they were capable; Spock was a genius, and Jim was a pretty handy engineer, if he was being honest. Just today, he had done some work in engineering with Pavel and Scotty, but they’d kicked him out after the third time he lost his balance on a catwalk.

He still had a half hour before Spock would be expecting him to return for their evening confab to review the days’ reports. Jim really wasn’t looking forward to it; he was losing hope that they’d ever turn the tide of news away from grim and desolate. Every report they read was more disheartening than the last, but surely...surely, the crew had to be making progress repairing something, for how hard everyone was busting their asses.

He found his way to the communications deck and paused in the entry, taking in the details he’d been in too much of a hurry to appreciate when he’d burst in earlier. Num tug, he thought, a faint smile crossing his face. Uhura’s expression when she’d caught sight of his swollen hands had been priceless. He looked around for her now, figuring that she’d taken charge of the deck with all the firm, terrifying command he knew she possessed.

A young Andorian in communications red passed; Jim reached out and caught the sleeve of his shirt. “Ensign, can you help me find Cadet—er, Lieutenant Uhura? Do you know where she is?” Jim asked. The Andorian started when he caught sight of Jim’s face.

“Captain, sir!” he replied. He swallowed hard and consulted his PADD for a moment. “Lieutenant Uhura…is on deck fourteen,” he replied. “Sir.”

"Thanks." Jim nodded briefly at the kid, still trying to wrap his head around the whole ‘sir’ thing, and turned back to the turbolift. Yeah, he’d been aiming for a captaincy one day. He’d been on track to be an officer in three years, just like he’d told Pike he would, but never in a million years would he have wanted to obtain any kind of rank in the way he had. Still, he couldn’t deny that hearing someone call him ‘Captain, sir’ felt inherently right.

He shook his head at the sheer lunacy of the past four days, and leaned it back against the wall of the turbolift as it sped him towards deck fourteen. The turbolift doors slid open in front of him; he stepped out into relative silence. He glanced around for a moment, listening until he heard the faint sound of crew members talking—crying?—nearby. He stepped in the direction of the harsh sobbing and froze at the sight that met his eyes.

Uhura and Hikaru were sitting on the floor, hugging tightly, as Uhura sobbed into Hikaru’s shoulder. It was almost more uncomfortable to watch the indomitable Uhura break down in Hikaru's arms, than it had been to watch her make out with Spock in the transporter room. “Oh—shit. Sorry, guys.” His voice sounded overly loud.

Hikaru looked over at him, his eyes red and swollen with tears; Uhura looked away, burying her face deeper in Hikaru's shoulder. Her hands tightened their grip on the back of his black shirt. “Hey, Jim,” Hikaru said quietly, his tone low and grieved.

Jim didn’t know what to do—stay, go, collapse on the floor and cry with them—so he stood, statue-like, for a moment until his senses caught up with him. “Come with me?” he asked them. “You both look like you could use a break.”

“You do, too, Jim. No offense,” Hikaru replied. He gave Uhura one last tight squeeze, then stood. She got to her feet shakily next to him, all without making eye contact with Jim; hell, he got it. He’d been an asshole for most of the time he’d known her. He didn't try to meet her eyes, either, as he gestured for them to follow him out of the communications bay and back to the turbolift.

/*\

They wound up on an out-of-the-way catwalk in engineering that he’d noticed while helping Scotty. It was quiet and secluded and just what all three of them needed, he thought; it was someplace away from the bustle of the ship and it’s repairs, to break down and grieve for a few minutes. The catwalk overlooked the majority of the engineering bay, and it was up high enough that nobody would bother them unless it was a dire emergency. Jim sat down heavily and let his legs dangle off the edge as he rested his arms on the guardrail in front of him. Hikaru sat next to him, and Uhura settled herself on Hikaru's other side.

No wonder Uhura was crying—they’d lost Spock’s mother. Poor Pavel; that kid was going to be dealing with that loss for the rest of his life, was already working himself to a delusional state of exhaustion so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. But if the heat in that lip-lock in the transporter room was any indication, then Uhura was going to be grieving for Spock’s loss for a long time. They sat together for a long, silent moment; Hikaru was rubbing his temples tiredly with one hand. The fingers of his other hand were laced tightly with Uhura’s.

Jim envied them the comfort of their friendly contact. “Want to talk about it?” he asked Uhura and Hikaru quietly without looking at them.

“No.” Uhura’s response was quick and flat. Hikaru shot her a look, then turned to Jim.

“Jim, it's...it's Gaila, Jim.” 

Jim’s head whipped towards them so fast his neck muscles twinged. He winced. “What about her?” He’d thought he’d seen her earlier, but when he tried to apologize for using her to get access to the Kobayashi Maru, the young Orion he’d apologized to hadn’t been her. Now that he thought about it, actually, he hadn’t seen her anywhere on the ship. A cold, sick feeling twisted through his gut. “Is she hurt? Has Bones seen her?”

Uhura glared at him. “I sent you the damage reports, Kirk–she’s dead, you prick. Her name was on the casualty list. She was on the Farragut.”

Jim felt as though the catwalk beneath their asses had fallen out from under him and he swayed for a moment, steadying himself on the rail. “What do you—wait, what?”

Hikaru shot Uhura a quick, stern look. “She was aboard the Farragut,” he repeated apologetically. “I’m…I’m sorry, Jim.”

“I’m not,” Uhura snapped. She turned to Jim. “You used her. She loved you—do you have any idea what that means to an Orion, to actually fall in love?” Her voice was getting louder with every word, each word laced with grief and anger. “And you betrayed her, just so you could prove a point for your own selfish reasons. You want to know how much fucking sympathy you get from me, Kirk? Absolutely none!” She was fairly shouting it now, and Jim felt his face flush. His gut reaction was to shout back, but Uhura was sobbing again. Hikaru was looking straight ahead of them, an arm around Uhura’s shoulders, and Jim suddenly felt like the world’s biggest piece of shit.

Yeah, Gaila had meant more to him than Uhura realized, but to say that now would ring with insincerity to her. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, trying to hold back his tears. Vulcan, Spock’s mother, Pike, his own father’s legacy, his broken ship and just how the hell they were ever going to get home—there was just too much for him to deal with without adding Gaila’s death to the mix.

He held his breath until he couldn't bear it anymore, until he was sure he wouldn't break down in front of Hikaru and Uhura, and then he stood abruptly. He had no desire to fight with Uhura over who got to grieve for Gaila more. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured to Uhura, before turning on his heel and striding off. The tears leaked out as he walked away, a vision of Gaila’s carefree smile and her bright eyes swimming through his memory as he tried to get himself as far away from her roommate, as fast as he could. He exhaled with a broken sob.

“Wait, Jim—Jim, hold on,” Hikaru called from behind him. He turned as Hikaru caught up with him. “Listen, man. I really am…I’m really sorry. Whatever Nyota says, we know Gaila meant something to you.” Jim swallowed hard and palmed the tears off his cheeks as Hikaru glanced back at Uhura. “Listen, Jim. ‘Yota's…she’s grieving.”

“Hikaru, grieving or not, she’s been waiting to tell me exactly what she thinks of me for years now. She thinks I’m a world-class prick, and I don’t blame her,” Jim replied.

“I know you don’t.” Hikaru looked him over, appraisingly. “You know you always acted like an ass about women in general, but that doesn’t mean you have to pretend like Gaila’s death doesn’t mean anything to you.” He gestured back at Uhura. “When she’s worked through shit a bit more…I think she’s going to need someone to remember Gaila with. Someone who loved her as much as she did, not just friends like me and Pavel. Just…give her time, please?”

Jim closed his eyes against the guilt about how he’d used Gaila. He’d never get to apologize to her, and that would haunt him for the rest of his life. But maybe he could try to absolve himself of some of that guilt by making amends with the woman she’d considered a sister. No matter how much that woman hated his guts.

It was the least he could do to honor Gaila’s memory.

“As much time as she needs, yeah. I can do that,” he replied. He glanced back at Uhura, who was resting her head in her hands. She didn’t look like she was still sobbing, but she did look physically exhausted. “Starting with some time off. Has she taken a break since we ejected the core?”

“Not that I know of,” Hikaru replied. “She’s been keeping busy.” He shrugged. “We all have,” he admitted. Jim nodded. Didn’t he already know that? If he knew anything about Nyota Uhura, she wouldn’t want to be idle right now. The woman was constantly on the go.

“Take her back to her work, if she wants to go. I’ll get some food and stuff and drop it off for you guys. But if she wants a shift off, tell her it’s done, would you?” Jim asked. Hikaru nodded.

“Yeah, man. I will.”

Jim nodded, cast one last look at Uhura, and disappeared into the turbolift.

/*\

The sound of the door sliding open drew Spock's attention from the schematic of the ship’s nacelles on the wall display, though he could admit that his attention was not fully on them in the first place. He was thinking instead of the myriad troubles the ship was currently encountering, just as he had been since the minutes after Lieutenant-Commander Scott had ejected the Enterprise’s warp core and subsequently pushed them out of the danger zone around the black hole Spock himself had caused at the center of the Narada.

To feel pride in such an accomplishment was the height of illogic, perhaps, but he found that he did not care. Nero had taken his world, his mother, and his people. Vulcans were typically pacifists; the situation, however, had been anything but typical, and Spock felt an immense amount of satisfaction that he had contributed much towards the Narada’s destruction.

He had to push the thought of his mother away, because it caused an ache of grief in his chest that would be with him for the rest of his life. And time would surely lessen the ache, but for now, if he did not push it into the recesses of his mind, he would be useless to his ship, his crewmates, and the remainder of his people. He let himself, instead, think not of his mother or the ship, but of Nyota and the calm comfort she had offered him in the turbolift.

For that brief span of time–no longer than sixty seconds–he had felt a modicum of peace, despite the fact that his world had quite literally collapsed around him, taking with it his mother and the culture he had grown up trying so desperately to fit into.

Nyota was, and as long as he had known her, had always been, exceptional. She was aesthetically pleasing to him, it was true; but she was also keenly intelligent, kind and humble, with a sense of justice and a determination to make the world around her a better place. She had quite often, in certain ways, reminded him of his mother; her keen intelligence rendered her an exceptional student at the Academy and, later, the only acceptable candidate for the position of his teaching assistant. She worked intuitively, much to his fascination, and needed minimal direction from him in completing her tasks; she had not inundated him with meaningless small talk, instead choosing to engage him in conversation only when necessary and relevant.

Indeed, as her time as his assistant went on, he found himself engaging her in conversation more than was strictly necessary. And in the course of their conversations, both while and after she was his assistant, he had learned much about interacting with the primarily human student population in his classes, and about the utility of emotional expression. He had begun to embrace his human heritage with more than the tepid trepidation he had always experienced in the past, had begun to try to fuse together the best of his two heritages. He was certainly a better version of himself, now, because of it.

He wondered briefly where she was and what she was doing at that moment. He could request her location from the computer, but to what end? He was still on duty. Even so, it had been almost three days since a curious Lieutenant-Commander Scott and wide-eyed Acting-Captain Kirk had watched them kiss on the transporter pad. Spock's desire to be in her presence again was quite strong.

He pushed it down, however, as he turned from the nacelle schematic. Kirk entered, his movements tired and pained. He had endured quite the physical beating, both from the Romulans on the Narada and from Spock himself. Spock now regretted losing control of his emotions on the bridge, and he regretted that his loss of control had caused another being pain; however, he realized that a small part of him did not regret it at all. Kirk’s words had been harsh and uncaring and, even though Spock now understood why Kirk had said those things to him, he did not appreciate having been manipulated, and so easily. Still, nobody on the ship could deny that Kirk had gone above and beyond the call of duty. Spock found that, though he did not fully trust the young man–yet, perhaps–he could respect what Kirk had done to help save them all.

“Captain.” His greeting to Kirk was everything formal and appropriate and did nothing to suggest that, less than four days ago, Spock had had his hands wrapped around Kirk’s throat in a rage unbecoming of a Vulcan.

“Commander Spock,” Kirk replied. Spock paused; he was still not adept at reading human social cues, despite Nyota’s guidance and the fact that he had been a student and then professor at the Academy, surrounded by humans the majority of the time. But he did recognize Kirk’s grief. Perhaps because his own was so present, or perhaps because Kirk’s face suddenly looked much grayer and older–whatever the reason, Spock turned to him fully. “How’re we coming with the nacelle repairs?”

“Mister Scott informs me that Engineering is proceeding as they are able; the nacelles are a priority, but in his words, are not the main priority at this time.”

“Right. No warp core,” Kirk murmured. He stepped closer to the schematic Spock had just been studying. “May I?” He gestured to the screen. Spock inclined his head.

“Indeed, Captain.”

Kirk reached out and toggled through the screens. After a moment, Spock realized that there seemed to be no pattern to Kirk’s search, no clear end. “For which schematic are you searching, Captain? Perhaps I can assist you in locating it.”

Kirk’s finger froze over the screen. A schematic of the mess hall and recreation decks stared back at them. “Ah–no, thank you, Commander.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m not even–I don’t even know what I was looking for. Sorry.” He sighed and toggled it back to the nacelle schematics, then stepped back.

They were not friends. They were coworkers by account of their current circumstances, and nothing more. But Spock could hear Nyota in his mind, echoing a sentiment he had heard from his mother growing up: you don’t have to be someone’s friend to give a damn about them. Spock turned to follow Kirk’s progress as he crossed the room, then paused behind one of the several chairs around the table of the conference room they’d taken over as a ready room. His back was to Spock, his posture slumped in a way Spock had never observed from the young man before.

“Captain, are you well?” Spock finally asked. “Should I summon Doctor McCoy?”

“No,” Kirk replied quickly. Spock watched him reach a hand up to his face. He did not turn to look at Spock. “No, for the love of God. Please, don’t call Bones. I’ll have to tell him eventually but, for now–I can’t–please.”

Spock inclined his head, even though Kirk could not see him. “Very well. Is there anything I can do to assist you, then?” Kirk did look over his shoulder at that.

“God, Spock. I should be asking that of you.” He shook his head and turned more fully towards Spock. “I’m sorry–I just–I got news about my…about a…about someone who meant a lot to me. She was on the Farragut–I’m sorry. I’ll get my act together–you lost so much–just, give me a second, and then we can keep plugging away at this…this hopeless clusterfuck.” Kirk let out a brittle, unamused laugh. as he scrubbed his hand down his face.

The Farragut. Spock inhaled deeply.

Nyota had almost been assigned to the Farragut. The realization hit him hard in the gut–he had almost had her assigned to a ship that had been destroyed, utterly, by Nero and the Narada, likely without warning, all because he was worried about how her presence on the Enterprise might appear to Admiral Barnett. Appearances of favoritism, he thought bitterly. He swallowed hard and felt his world narrow to the hand in front of him, the one he reached out to brace himself with on the back of another chair.

How close he had come to losing Nyota, too.

“Spock?” Kirk’s voice sounded as though it were much further away than the other side of the room. “Spock–hey, sit down–are you okay?” He felt Kirk’s hand on his sleeve. The touch brought him back to himself. Kirk was standing at his elbow, a concerned look on his bruised face. “I’m sorry, man.”

Spock shook his head. “You have nothing for which to apologize, Captain. I am simply coming to terms with how close I came to losing…someone…who was supposed to be assigned to that ship, but whose assignment was changed just prior to our deployment to Vulcan. Forgive me.” He straightened. “I grieve with thee, Captain. I am sorry for your loss.” It was Nyota who had explained to him why humans used expressions of apology even when they had nothing to do with the cause of another’s loss.

Kirk swallowed hard. “Yeah, thanks,” he murmured. “And if I haven’t said it yet–I’m so sorry for…for Vulcan, and your mom, and all those shitty things I said to you–I’m sorry for it all, Spock. I didn’t mean any of them. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you. I…I grieve with thee, too–is that how Vulcans say it?”

“Indeed, Captain. Thank you.” Spock inhaled deeply. “Perhaps a break is in order.”

Kirk nodded and inhaled deeply. His eyes were still red-rimmed, but he appeared to have gained a modicum of control over his emotions. “I think that sounds like a great idea.” He strode to the small replicator in the corner. “Anything to drink or eat, Spock?”

“I do not require sustenance at this time, Captain, but thank you.” Spock let himself sink into one of the chairs as Kirk punched a few buttons on the replicator, then pulled out a glass of water and a bowl of gray oatmeal. He brought both to the table and sat in a chair near Spock’s. Kirk ate in silence for a moment, before Spock continued. “I have been made aware that some humans feel the need to share memories of those whom they have recently lost. Would you find it helpful to speak about your friend, Captain?”

“You want to help me?” Kirk asked warily. “Why?” He took an unenthusiastic bite of his food.

“As first officer, it is my duty to ensure the well-being of the ship’s captain. As Captain Pike is currently unable to perform his duties and is being well cared for in sickbay, and you have advanced to Acting Captain, my responsibility now rests with you,” Spock replied evenly. “Despite the fact that you and I did not share an auspicious beginning in commanding this ship together, I do believe we have done well.”

Kirk snorted. “Done well. Yeah, you could say that. Pretty sure Nero is cussing us out from wherever he is right now.”

“The odds of Nero or his ship surviving the singularity, given the condition of the Narada after multiple engagements with both the Federation and the Klingon Empire, are–,”

“I don’t need odds, Spock. Thanks,” he interrupted with a stilted chuckle. “It was just meant to be a…a joke, I guess. A flip comment. Wry humor.”

“Indeed.” Humor. “The fact remains that I am available if you wish to speak of the friend you have lost.”

Kirk’s face fell. He set his spoon back in the bowl and stared blankly at the mush in it for a long moment before swallowing hard and exhaling. “It was…we never really put labels on our relationship, but I guess the closest thing I could call her would have been a girlfriend.” He smiled faintly. “She called us fuckbuddies.” He glanced up at Spock. “Crude, I guess, by human standards, but not for an Orion…she was amazing. Funny. Sweet. Brilliant. Curves for days, not that that matters in the grand scheme of things, but she was always so proud of her appearance, so confident–she was just…,” Kirk trailed off and sighed. He shook his head. “She had this way about her–everyone loved her. She could make anyone feel like they were the center of the universe.” He bit his lip, then looked up sharply at Spock, studying him for a moment.

“Is something else amiss, Captain?”

Kirk shook his head. “You and Uhura–shit, Spock. Uhura was her roommate. Uhura was the one who told me about her–about her being on the Farragut, I mean.” Kirk looked back at his oatmeal. “She’s…she’s really upset.”

Gaila. Nyota’s Orion roommate. The one who had cornered him in his office and demanded that he apologize to Nyota for hurting her with his abrupt message not more than twenty-seven Terran days ago. Gaila had been Nyota's closest friend. What must Nyota be feeling, now? Unfortunately, Spock thought he could likely guess as to her emotional state. The memory of her lips against his, arms around his shoulders as she held him close in the turbolift–he had the sudden urge to find her, to ensure her well-being as she had done for him. To reassure himself that she was alive, that he hadn’t actually gone through with assigning her to a doomed ship. Spock stood.

“If it is not too much trouble, Captain, might I request an extended break?”

Kirk looked up at him, smiled faintly, and nodded. “We have about four and a half hours before we have to meet with Scotty and Bones to contact headquarters. Take your time, Commander.”

“Indeed, Captain. Thank you.” Spock turned to the door.

“Hey, Spock?”

“Yes, Captain?” He was eager to be off. Kirk smiled sadly.

“Make the most of your time with her, okay? I know I don’t have to tell you of all beings this, but…don’t take her for granted.” Kirk’s eyes were turning red around the edges.

Spock nodded slowly. “I will not, Captain,” he promised. He turned and strode out of the conference room, pulling his communicator as he did.

/*\

The absolute nerve of Kirk. Nyota stood, stock-still in her quarters, at a loss for what to do with herself. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. That prick–pretending he had feelings for Gaila. Pretending he cared, even though he’d used her the way he had…had that been his intention all along? Was that the only reason he’d gotten involved with her, because he knew he’d be able to manipulate her to his advantage one day?

A small voice told her she was being unfair and irrational. Yeah, Kirk was a pig and an ass, but to think that he’d been involved with Gaila, on and off, for the past few years, just to take advantage of her access to the Kobyashi Maru one day? It was a stretch. She was mature enough to admit that much, at least.

She sighed and slumped onto her bed and toed off her boots. She was exhausted. She’d spent the past three days with her head stuck inside communications panels, and she was ready to scream. It was such tedious, mindless work, and her mind had gone off in a hundred different directions, trying to stay awake and engaged. Gaila, and Kirk, and her anger and hurt over how he’d treated her; Hikaru and Ben and hoping that Ben was okay because Hikaru wouldn’t be able to handle it if Ben had died in Nero’s attack; Pavel and the fact that she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in the days since their victory, because he was working himself to exhaustion in engineering with Lieutenant-Commander Scott; Leonard, and how he’d snuck Kirk on board, and despite how much the prick irritated her, how lucky they’d been that Kirk had been there, because Spock, with the best of intentions, would have carried out Pike’s last orders to him. Even though those orders, to fall back and rendezvous with the rest of the primary fleet, would have been wrong.

And Spock. For all that they were friends, for all the heat in that kiss in the turbolift, and then on the transporter pad before he’d beamed over to the Narada with Kirk–for all the grief she could feel radiating off him–they hadn’t come across each other at all in the past three days. She knew she couldn’t read too much into it. It was hard work, keeping a ship running on nothing more than caffeine, duct tape, and willpower, especially after losing everything he’d ever known. If she had to give Kirk any kind of credit for this whole situation–and she did realize, that Kirk did deserve credit for his role in this whole adventure–then she would at least give him credit for trying his best to work with Spock for the good of the crew and the Vulcan survivors on board as a whole.

“Commander Spock to Lieutenant Uhura.”

She jumped and turned to locate her comm, somewhere on the rumpled covers of her bed. She found it and snatched it up. “Lieutenant Uhura here, sir,” she replied.

There was a pause at the other end. “Lieutenant Uhura–-Nyota-–I wonder if I might speak with you. Privately?” he asked. She swallowed hard.

“Of–of course, Commander. I’m in my quarters. Where would you like me to meet you?”

He paused again. “If you are not adverse to it, I am amenable to meeting you there.”

“I–of course, Commander. I’m not adverse to it at all,” she replied. She felt her voice wobble a bit.

“Then I will arrive in precisely three minutes, barring unforeseen delays,” he promised. “Spock, out.” And he disconnected.

What in the world could he possibly want? To talk, perhaps about his mother? About the ship and everything they’d been through? Maybe he needed to decompress, vent a little–after all, they’d been under so much stress, he and Kirk more than any of them. To vent seemed a very human thing, but he was half-human, wasn’t he?

She stood from her bed and glanced around her quarters. She hadn’t really spent much time in them, so aside from her rumpled bedclothes and a couple of dirty pairs of socks and panties on the floor near the laundry chute–which, if she had to guess, laundry services wasn’t up there on engineering’s list of priority fixes–the room was pretty organized. She kicked the clothes into a neat pile and hastened to straighten out the bedclothes, before she heard a soft chime at her door.

“Enter,” she called. The door slid open and Spock stepped in, then hesitated as it shut behind him. His eyes darted around the quarters as he took it in; it was spartan, seeing as they’d boarded so quickly and under such circumstances. “Hi,” she said quietly, straightening her posture.

His eyes fell on her and she could see him swallow hard. “Hello,” he replied, just as quietly. “I apologize for disturbing your period of rest. I…I found myself with time between tasks and obligations and…,” he trailed off uncomfortably. She took a step closer.

“And you called me?”

“You have not been far from my thoughts for some time now,” he admitted. She felt a small smile cross her face.

“Likewise,” she replied. “Come in, sit down–can you stay for awhile?” she asked, gesturing to her desk chair. Her quarters had a definite lack of guest seating. He moved to the chair and sat. She sank onto the bed, facing him.

“I have four hours and seventeen minutes until my next obligation,” he replied.

She nodded. “How are repairs coming?”

“As smoothly as can be expected, given the circumstances,” he replied. “Acting Captain Kirk is proving to be a remarkably resilient leader. I do believe that the crew and ship are in good, if inexperienced hands, with him as Captain.”

“High praise,” Nyota said with a smile. Spock wasn’t Kirk’s biggest fan, either, she had a feeling, especially after everything Kirk had said to him about his mother. Seemed Nyota wasn’t the only one who felt the need to give credit where credit was due, no matter how begrudgingly it was given. “That’s good, though. For everyone. I’m glad that–well, I’m glad.”

“Indeed.” Spock looked down at his lap. He shook his head. “I apologize for disturbing you, Nyota. The Captain told me about Gaila, and I wished to see you, as I have not had the opportunity to for the past two and a half days. But I see you are coming off what was undoubtedly a long shift–I will leave you to your rest.” He stood.

Nyota stumbled to her feet. “No, Spock, wait–you’re not disturbing anything,” she insisted. “I mean–yeah, it was a long shift, but…but I always have time for you. I always want to see you if we have a chance.”

“Indeed?” his voice was hesitant and cautious, in a way she’d never heard before.

She tried to smile at him. “I’ve been thinking about you these past few days,” she confessed quietly. “I mean, what with Vulcan and your mom–how are you doing? Really doing?” she asked.

His lips tightened. “I am functioning adequately, given the circumstances,” he replied.

“In other words, you’re barely hanging on?” she asked dryly. He inclined his head.

“That is an accurate summation,” he admitted. She smiled sadly at him.

“Have you rested, Spock? Really rested, not just meditated?”

“I have not had time,” he replied. “Even meditation…I fear the restorative properties of meditation would elude me.”

“So come rest.” The words were out before she could think about the ramifications. She reached out and touched the sleeve of his blue shirt, which was wrinkled and stained. He had dark stubble lining his jaw; he looked exhausted. “Lie down for a little while, with me. I know Vulcans are adverse to casual physical contact, but–for humans, physical contact between friends, between people who care about each other, can provide mental and emotional comfort,” she explained.

He glanced down at her hand on his sleeve. “Indeed?” he asked. He looked up and met her eyes. “And do you offer this for your mental and emotional state, or mine?”

“Could it be for both?” she whispered. “I think I need this, too, Spock. I miss Gaila, and...and I want to help you, I want to be there for you, and seeing as I can’t bring back your mother or your planet or your people…this is all I can offer you,” she explained earnestly, looking him straight in the eye even as hers filled with tears. His dark eyes held hers with a level of intensity she’d seen in them only a handful of times before.

“What are you offering, Nyota?” his voice was low.

She took a deep breath. “To hold you while we rest,” she replied. “Anything else that happens, Spock, I would consider a definite perk.”

He studied her intently for another moment before cupping her face in his hands and pressing a soft, deep kiss to her lips. She sighed and relaxed into him, her hands coming to rest on his chest. As the kiss deepened, as his tongue swept out and brushed against her own, she slid her hands up his shoulders to the back of his neck; one hand anchored itself in the short hair at the nape of his neck, as the other softly stroked the stubble down his face. She felt a slight rumble in his chest as his hands left her face and fell to her waist, pulling her hips flush with his as their kisses took on a sense of urgency that they hadn’t in the turbolift, or on the transporter pad.

Urgency turned to desperation, and before she knew it, he had his hands under her ass, was carrying her to the bed with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as they each attempted to lick the others’ tonsils. He sat heavily on the bed, and she adjusted her legs to straddle his lap comfortably. “Is this within the parameters of a perk?” he murmured against her lips.

“God, yes, Spock,” she replied breathlessly.

“And you are amenable to continuing?” His voice was rough and deeper than usual.

“Yes.” And Nyota couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips, and the tears that leaked down her cheeks, at the next thought that crossed her mind.

Gaila would be so fucking proud of you right now.

/*\

And when it was over, when the urgency of their need for each other had passed and they’d each found release for their emotional distress, all they could do was sit there together, her in his lap, his lips firmly pressed against her forehead as they each caught their breath, as her heartbeat slowed and the flush began to disappear from her body.

Spock gently kissed her and pulled back. “Are you well?” he asked, his voice low and rough with the vestiges of the emotions she could see still warring in his eyes. She smiled at him and brought her fingers up to the stubble lining his jaw again, lightly scratching the barest edge of her fingernails over it. He closed his eyes and she felt a contented rumble in his chest, as he let his forehead drift forward to connect gently with hers again.

“In this moment, Spock?” she whispered. He opened his eyes and met hers. “With you? Yes. I am,” she whispered back. His mouth twitched at one corner.

“What a coincidence,” he replied. “I am, as well. In this moment, here, with you.” She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him sweetly. He pulled her close again, kissing her deeply, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

And they had sex again, but slower this time, less desperate; their first time had been about taking, about filling the aching void left behind by their losses. This time, it was different; this time, Nyota thought as Spock’s fingers traced sensual lines up and down the curve of her back, it was about offering comfort and a sense of safety, of connection, to each other. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his fingers on her back, and when they were finished, they curled up together in her bed and slept for the remainder of time he had left before his next obligation.

/*\

And that was the last time they had together, before the ship reached Earth and they had to go their separate ways, to their separate obligations: him to the Vulcan people, and her to the Enterprise and Starfleet. At the time, she didn’t realize it would be the last time they would speak to each other for almost three months.

/*\/*\

Chapter Text

Early June, 2258

Jim sighed into his drink. The day had been one of the longest of his life, and despite the fact that his chrono read nearly 2100, it still wasn’t over. Once he finished the drink in his hand, he’d have to haul his ass up and go meet Bones and Scotty—who’d gotten along like peanut butter and jelly from the get-go, the damn alcoholics—at another bar downtown. He knew they meant well, and that they wanted to celebrate with him, but he was simply exhausted.

It hadn’t been the worst day of his life by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t exactly been one of the best either. For awhile, it had been great; the ceremony naming him as Pike's relief, in front of the remaining cadets and brass, was everything he ever thought it would be. Pike's proud look had hit Jim square in the chest. But in the next, fleeting moment, when he’d turned to face all of the remaining cadets—Bones and Pavel grinning at him, Hikaru shooting him a discreet thumbs up, Madeline beaming from the back with the rest of the underclass cadets—all he’d seen were the cadets who hadn’t made it back from Vulcan. Gaila, and so many others.

His collar had gotten tight around his throat and the well-wishers who crowded around him shortly afterwards was suffocating: Command of the Fleet’s flagship at the tender age of twenty-five was quite an achievement—his father would have been proud of him—he was going to do great things, bring honor to his classmates and the officers who’d died over Vulcan—the walls had started to close in on him by the time Bones had made his way through the crowd. Scotty had been right behind him, Bones in his cadet reds and Scotty in the gray dress uniform of commissioned officers, and they’d each grabbed one of his elbows and steered him right out of that damn reception. Hikaru and Pavel had been hot on their heels. 

He’d begged off joining them right away. He needed some time to himself to process everything, he’d practically pleaded. Bones had relented, reluctantly, and agreed to meet Jim later. Bones and Scotty had gone on their merry way with Hikaru and Pavel, and Jim had high-tailed it to his favorite hole-in-the-wall bar. 

And here he sat, not drunk but definitely not sober. He surveyed the empty glasses in front of him with something akin to pride; a week ago, he’d have had twice as many glasses littering the bartop in front of him. See? He mentally told everyone who’d ever doubted him. I can practice moderation. He sighed and shook his head. 

“That’s a lot of drinks for one woman.”

The wry voice was familiar, if unexpected. Jim turned his head to the left and studied Uhura for a moment; she offered him a tight, unamused smile. Her red cadet uniform still rested heavily on her shoulders. He sighed through his exhaustion and turned back to the drink in front of him, finishing it in a long swallow. “I’m not in the mood to do this with you tonight, Uhura,” he replied flatly, studying the dregs of his drink. If he avoided the judgmental look in her eyes, maybe she would leave him be. “If you’re here to give me crap about my drinking habits, or my sex life, or the way I fucking breathe, then please just go away.”

He could feel her rolling her eyes as she sank onto the barstool next to him. “I know you might find this hard to believe, Kirk, but I’m not here to give you crap about anything.”

“Bullshit.”

Uhura let out a long-suffering sigh. Jim looked up in time to see her shake her head at the bartender, who nodded back at her and put away the bottle Jim had been drinking out of all night. “Hey,” he protested indignantly.

“You’ve had enough, Captain,” Uhura retorted dryly. “Especially since I know you’re supposed to be meeting Leonard and the boys for more drinks.”

“Yeah?" Jim scoffed. "Who died and made you Queen Fucking Babysitter?”

“Almost everyone,” she replied sharply.

Well, damn it all to hell. She had to go and bring everyone they’d lost into this. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, in an attempt to not lose his composure. His attempt must not have been that successful, because a moment later, her voice had softened minutely. “I was in the area and Leonard was getting worried about you,” she admitted grudgingly. 

“Yeah, well, I’m clearly fine, and clearly not drunk,” Jim replied. “Bones worries too much.”

“Does he?” Uhura snapped. “Less than a couple of weeks ago, we lost almost everyone we knew, Kirk. Did it ever occur to you that he’s scared to death of losing you, too?”

Jim scowled down at the bar. “I know that,” he muttered mulishly. “I’m not trying to make him worry. I’m not that much of an asshole, you know. I just needed to get away from…everyone.”

“I’m surprised. I figured you would enjoy being the center of attention. Isn’t this what you’ve been bragging about shooting for since you started at the Academy?”

“I never, ever wanted it this way.” Jim’s head snapped up and he rounded on her so fast his ass almost slipped off his stool. “I’d give it up in a heartbeat if it meant I could bring back everyone we lost. I was going to earn it, Uhura, just like you. Despite what you want to believe about me, I never expected to be handed anything.”

Uhura acknowledged the truth of his statement with a small nod. “Fair enough,” she allowed. “So why are you still here? They’re waiting for you. Pavel’s excited, Commander Scott and Hikaru said they’re going to get him drunk.” She shook her head. “Kirk, he’s never been drunk before.”

“Bones is there. He won’t let them get out of hand,” he replied as he turned back to the bar.

“If you say so,” Uhura replied. He felt her studying him for a long moment before he saw her stand up in his peripheral vision. “Come on. I’m taking you back to your dorm.”

“Hey, now, you’ve gotta at least buy me a drink before we start talking about taking things back to the dorms,” he replied sarcastically, but it was half-hearted, and he was wondering why the hell he’d opened his mouth to say anything before the sentence was even fully out of his mouth. He rolled his eyes and shook his head at himself as he said it. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he added. 

“I’m not going to argue with you about that,” she agreed. “But you’ve had enough of everything. Enough of being paraded around like Starfleet’s pet dog on a leash, enough of crowds, and enough booze. You look like you could do with some rest, and the dorms are nothing if not quiet these days.”

“Too quiet.”

“At least your roommate made it,” she replied softly. He looked over at her sharply; the last time they’d talked about Gaila, Uhura had made her feelings about him quite clear. But now, there was absolutely zero venom in her voice. She just sounded…heartbroken. He swallowed hard. “If you think your dorm room is quiet…,” she trailed off and looked down at her hands. “I’m bunking in Hikaru’s bed. He’s been with Ben every night since we got back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they up and elope soon. And Pavel…he needs someone to be around.” She glanced over at Jim. “He’s not doing good, Kirk, and I don’t...I don't know how to help him." She bit her lip with a sigh. "I think that’s why he’s so excited to get drunk; he thinks he’ll forget about Commander Spock’s mother and finally be able to sleep.”

Jim sighed. Poor Pavel—he was too fucking young to have to deal with all of this. Who in their right minds had thought putting a seventeen-year-old on the bridge of the flagship would be a good idea? Probably Archer, he thought. The man’s a moron. Still, Jim felt a sharp pang at knowing that Pavel was suffering and Jim–and from the sounds of it, Hikaru and likely Bones, knowing the man’s hospital schedule–wasn’t doing jack shit to help. It twisted his guts up and he swallowed hard. “You’re helping him just by being there, which is more than the rest of us can say, I guess,” he said. She bit her lip.

“Come on,” she said after a long, thick moment. “At least come walk around and get some fresh air before you go meet Leonard.”

/*\

Walking with Kirk wasn’t as unpleasant as she’d always assumed it would be. He was a quiet companion; whether from the booze, or exhaustion, she couldn’t tell. She kept pace with him through the streets of San Francisco. Their red cadet uniforms stood out like a sore thumb in the city, and Nyota noticed that adults discreetly eyeballed them as they passed; children not-so-discreetly pointed to them in excitement. 

Starfleet had seen a massive uptick in recruits in the past two weeks, and while the citizens of San Francisco had always treated Starfleet personnel with a broad, general respect, there was more to it now. Now, as she and Kirk walked down the sidewalk together, people gave them a wide berth, most with a respectful nod. Some stopped them to thank them for their service; Kirk’s face had been all over the news, so he was widely recognized. And once upon a time, Nyota would have rolled her eyes and huffed at how he preened under so much adoration.

Now, though? He gritted his teeth, smiled as best he could, and shook hands with anyone who wanted to offer their gratitude and sympathies for their losses. It pained him, she could tell.  

How arrogant of her, she realized, to presume she knew him. It was this thought that let her follow the path Kirk was taking, wherever he was leading them. She assumed he was turning at random, maybe heading towards whatever bar he’d promised to meet Leonard at, until he stopped outside a small market. Nyota hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going—a lapse in judgment, she was sure, but she found that she trusted Kirk despite all his faults.

Her stomach sank as she realized where they were. It was a small grocer who catered to off-worlders; vegetables from Vulcan, meat from Andoria, spices and trinkets from Orion, and such. Nyota and Pavel had come here often with Gaila, who enjoyed speaking in her native language with Mister Hashid, the owner. They always bought a box of spiced candy that Gaila remembered fondly from her childhood.

Nyota's throat closed up as tears clouded her vision, remembering how Gaila and Pavel hadn't ever been able to make it to the corner of the street without tearing open the package of candy, how they typically devoured the entire package before the three of them even made it back to the Academy. “No. Nope," she protested. "I can’t...I can't do this,” she whispered hoarsely. Kirk glanced at her. 

“Me, neither,” he admitted. “I just…I don’t know. Wanted to see it. Wanted to remember how excited she got about coming here—how she smiled.”

Nyota closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “Yeah. She…she loved this place. We used to come here with Pavel.” Nyota opened her eyes. “I wonder if anyone has told Hashid that she…you know.”

Kirk sighed. “Should we?”

“I don’t know if I can say it out loud without crying,” Nyota whispered. “And I am so damn sick of crying.” She shook her head. Kirk nodded.

“I don’t know if I can, either. But someone has to, right? We were…you and I, and Pavel and Hikaru and Bones…we were all she had. We owe it to her to make sure people remember her, right?”

“What are you playing at, Kirk?” Nyota snapped. “Why is this your business, who knows about her dying or who remembers her? What do you care?”

“Because I cared about her,” Kirk snapped back. “Look, I don’t know if I loved her or not, okay? I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love. But I do know that she was the first person I thought about when I woke up in the morning, and the last person I wanted to talk to in the evening. I know that her laugh was the best part of my day. I know that, Kobyashi Maru notwithstanding, I would have moved heaven and earth for her. I miss her so much it physically hurts.” He scowled at the ground. “You never wanted to see the good in me—you decided early on that I was a player, and an asshole, and so you only ever saw that in me. Good thing, too, huh? Kobyashi Maru fit right in—totally reinforced the image you had of me in your head. Now you can go on hating me for the very real fact that I used Gaila’s access to the sim to cheat.”

Nyota scowled at the ground and bit back her own heated retort. She took a few deep breaths and waited to make sure Kirk was done. “I don’t hate you.”

“I’m sorry--what?”

“And if I disliked you—a lot—it was only because you didn’t need to be such a pig all the time," she continued. "You could have had anyone you wanted at the Academy, without acting like a leering Casanova. How you acted was never you, and it drove me nuts. Especially after you started seeing Gaila.” Nyota sighed. “At that bar back in Riverside, you spoke to me, not my body or my vanity. You treated me like a person, not a conquest. And so, I thought that maybe you were different from the men in those types of places usually are. But then you got to the Academy and you acted just like them…she deserved better than what you showed everyone, and I have absolutely no proof that you ever gave her that better part of you. You’re right—the Kobyashi Maru proved that you didn’t respect her enough to be honest with her. To be genuine.”

Kirk was silent for a long moment. “You know what, Uhura?" he finally said. "You’re right. I can’t do this right now. Not with you. I tried—I wanted to try to get along with you, for Gaila’s sake, but it’s just—it’s too soon.” He sounded angry. He shook his head and exhaled noisily. He wouldn’t look at her. The silence between them was glacial, but she couldn’t find it in her to walk away.

“Actually,” he snapped a moment later, “I can do this with you. Come on—let’s clear the air.”

Nyota suddenly felt tired. Exhausted, down to her bones. She hadn’t been sleeping well and she and Pavel had emotionally eaten their way through too much ice cream and other junk and Spock had virtually disappeared and no matter how hard she cried, Gaila was still gone. Even if Nyota and Kirk shook and made up, Gaila would still be gone. What did it matter if they cleared the air now or later? “Kirk…not now. Okay? It’s…I can’t.” She felt tears well up in her eyes. She really was so sick of crying. 

“No, come on—I’m such an asshole, right?” he said aggressively. “You’ve been waiting to have a go at me for the past three years. Do it—tell me exactly what you think of me. Maybe then we can try to get along like goddamn grownups.”

“Fuck off, Kirk!” Nyota choked out, her tears falling from her eyes faster than she could wipe them away. She turned on her heel and all but ran back down the sidewalk away from the grocer. She’d come back tomorrow and tell Hashid about Gaila. 

She heard Kirk curse to himself behind her, then heard his footsteps as he came after her. "Uhura—Uhura, wait! I'm sorry--Uhura, wait up—Nyota, STOP! ” He bellowed. It was his tone that caught her attention, not his words; she had never heard him sound scared and panicked before, but in that moment, brave Captain Kirk sounded utterly terrified. 

She looked up with a fraction of a second to jump out of the way of a speeding hoverbus. Her heart leapt into her throat as she stumbled back onto the sidewalk with a startled gasp, her arms windmilling backwards behind her as she tripped over the curb and reached in vain for something to break her fall.

Strong hands caught her from behind. “Are you okay?” Kirk asked urgently, steadying her. She shook her head and gave up on keeping her tears at bay. She felt herself slump, her heart pounding in her throat as she stumbled over her own feet, trying to get them stable under her. She felt terribly shaky; Kirk must have noticed, because he kept a firm hold on her arms. “Hey. Look, I’m sorry—that was uncalled for. I’m sorry, Uhura.” 

She looked up at him and was startled to realize that his eyes were wet and red, too. She felt a sudden wave of regret for her harsh words—however she thought Kirk had treated Gaila, the fact remained that Gaila had seen something in him that was good, and Gaila had always been a good judge of character. And the look in his eyes now told her that he really had cared for Gaila. And hadn't Nyota seen, with her own eyes, how he saw the good in her best friend, when so many others had blatantly expressed their prejudices against Orions to her as though she were a being without feelings? 

“I’m sorry, too,” Nyota whispered back. On impulse, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist. She thought he might freeze, or push her away, but instead, he wrapped arms around her shoulders and hugged her just as fiercely as she was hugging him. “I may not have approved of how you’ve behaved, or of things you’ve done—but I believe you. That you cared about her.”

“I’m sorry for not treating her as good as she deserved. I’m sorry for that whole damn Kobyashi Maru clusterfuck, for taking advantage of her access—I’m sorry I’ll never get to tell her that.” Kirk hugged her tightly for another moment before stepping back. His face was still streaked with tears, and he released Nyota to wipe a sleeve of his cadet jacket across his face. She wiped her own sleeve across her eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths. 

“Listen, I understand that it’s going to take time for us to get past the last few years,” Kirk began levelly, his voice slightly hoarse with unshed tears. He cleared it roughly. “But I…I think we both owe it to Gaila to try to get along.”

Just when had he become a mature voice of reason? She sighed. “I think you’re right,” she agreed quietly. Kirk actually did a double take, blinking down at her like she was speaking a foreign language.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? Can I get it in writing? Notarized?”

“Shut up, you heard me,” Nyota replied with a watery chuckle, punching his shoulder half-heartedly. She offered him a small smile. “I’m willing to try if you are.”

“I’m willing to try.” Kirk paused, then opened his mouth again.

“—but the first time you hit on me, or bug me about my first name or about anything you think you saw or heard on that transporter pad before you and Spock beamed over to the Narada, the deal is off,” Nyota rushed to add, a clear note of warning in her voice. Kirk closed his mouth and shrugged sheepishly.

“Right.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Fair enough.” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, I’m sure Bones is wondering where I am. Want to come get a drink with me and the boys?”

“You mean, play Mom Friend?”

Kirk scoffed. "As if Bones would let anyone take that job from him. No, I just thought you might want to drink Hikaru and Pavel under the table." He shrugged again. "Unless you had a reason for being out in this part of town, aside from just not wanting to go back to the damn dorms.” He offered her a sad smile. Nyota found herself smiling back.

“No, no reason for being out. Just...you got it. I had no desire to go back to the dorms."

Kirk studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Stick with me, kid," he said. She snorted.

"I'm pretty sure we're around the same age, Kirk."

"Good. Then you're of the legal drinking age. Come on, let's go get Pavel shitfaced." He grinned. Nyota chuckled to herself.

"Sure. Why not? It’s teambuilding, right?” This temporary peace with Kirk might be just that—temporary—but she still wanted to serve on the Enterprise. And she realized that she wanted to see the good in this man, in Jim Kirk, that her best friend had seen. 

We're trying, for you, girl, she thought, glancing towards the heavens with a small, sad smile as she and Kirk set off down the sidewalk together. Kirk slung his arm companionably around her shoulders, and after a long moment, she looped hers around his waist. They supported each other down the street.

We're trying.

/*\

Later that week...

Pavel swore quietly at the console under his fingertips. The blasted thing was absolutely refusing to cooperate and Pavel was about at the end of his patience. He closed his eyes and held his breath, counting to ten in his mind as he tried to calm himself down. 

один, два, три--

“You are Pavel Andrievich Chekov.” The voice was deep, and sonorous, slightly nasal–familiar, but slightly off, and completely out of nowhere. Pavel jumped a foot in the air in surprise before turning in his chair.

A very elderly Vulcan stood nearby, in an interesting combination of traditional Vulcan robes and Terran clothing, and there was something of a lively twinkle in his eye. His hair was gunmetal gray and his face deeply lined. His hands were clasped behind his back and his head was tilted just slightly to the side inquiringly. It was an oddly familiar mannerism.

“Da?” Pavel replied. “I mean—yes?” And you are? He wanted to ask. But there was something almost knowing about the Vulcan who was now approaching the dismantled shuttle where Pavel was working. The background noise in the shuttle hangar faded as the Vulcan drew closer. All Pavel could hear was the pounding in his ears.

He didn’t recognize the Vulcan as one of the elders he’d beamed off of Vulcan.

The Vulcan came to a stop. “I understand that you are responsible for the preservation of many of the surviving relics from Vulcan,” he said. Pavel felt his face flush and looked away.

Da—except for Commander Spock’s mother, he thought bitterly. “I was just the transporter techneecian, sir.” The sir slipped out—the Vulcan wasn’t wearing a Starfleet uniform, but something in his bearing suggested a lifetime of service in it. Or the Vulcan equivalent. 

“I am also given to understand that you are the human who suggested hiding behind Titan, in order to launch what ultimately became the successful counterattack on the Narada, thus keeping the planet Earth from meeting the same end as Vulcan,” the elderly Vulcan continued. Pavel shrugged uncomfortably. “You also managed to transport James Kirk and Hikaru Sulu from a free-fall over Vulcan, thus ensuring the Federation’s success in defeating Nero.”

Pavel was feeling beyond uncomfortable at this point. He hadn’t been sleeping well enough to handle this right now; yes, he had done all those things, but they paled in comparison to the loss of Commander Spock's mother. He glanced around, looking for someone—anyone—who might offer another focus for the unnerving attention of the Vulcan in front of him. Where is Commander Spock when I need him? Pavel wondered. “Er—I suppose, sir,” he replied.

“I wish to offer you the gratitude of my people, Ensign. Though gratitude is often believed to be illogical, there are times in which it is not only an appropriate expression, but a necessary one.” The Vulcan held up his hand and offered a Vulcan salute. Pavel gaped at him for a moment, before remembering himself and stuffing his screwdriver in his pocket as he fumbled to return the gesture. “Live long and prosper, Ensign.”

Pavel had learned the appropriate response, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember it. “Er—thenk you, sir. You as well.” He felt his face turn bright red. The Vulcan nodded and lowered his hand, and if Pavel wasn’t mistaken, he looked slightly amused. He turned to go. “Sir—I apologize eef thees ees something I should already know—but these last weeks hev been wery long—what ees your name, sir? Eef I may ask.”

The Vulcan studied him for a moment. “Most know me as Ambassador Selek,” he replied. “But you can be trusted to not mention the truth of my identity to any save for a select few who are already aware. I am Spock.”

No, Pavel hadn’t had enough sleep to handle this at all. He blinked slowly at the Vulcan for a long moment. “Excuse me, sir?”

“My presence here is directly tied to Nero’s presence in your universe. I am an alternate timeline version of your own Commander Spock. He is aware of my true identity, as is your new Captain, James Kirk, and Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott. My true identity is otherwise considered…sensitive information.”

Pavel shook his head. He could feel the final, thin threads of his emotional control starting to fray. He needed to find Commander Scott and beg off the rest of his shift and go sleep—hopefully he wouldn’t dream of Amanda Grayson, or the look on Commander Spock’s face as he’d reached out for her on the transporter pad—this was too much.

“Da, right. You are alternate wersion of Commander Spock. Of course. Why not? Eet has already been the most surreal two weeks of my life. I’m hallucinating from lack of sleep,” Pavel muttered to himself. The ambassador raised an eyebrow. 

“I can assure you, Ensign, that you are not hallucinating. However, it has been brought to my attention that sleep has been eluding you. Speculation as to the cause has been offered, and if I may, I would like to address it with you.”

“No.” Pavel was too exhausted to be ashamed of the abruptness of his response. It was bad enough that Nyota knew he’d been crying himself to sleep, when he was able to sleep; he didn’t need to talk about it with anyone else, especially not the alternate-universe version of the Vulcan whom Pavel had failed so utterly and completely as Vulcan collapsed on in on itself. 

Ambassador Selek—Spock?—raised an eyebrow at him. It was a familiar look, one Pavel recognized from many of Commander Spock’s lectures and their short time together on the bridge of the Enterprise. Any doubts Pavel had had about this Vulcan’s claim to be an alternate-universe counterpart to the commander fled. “Indeed. Perhaps another time, then.”

“Er—ees not to be disrespectful, sir,” Pavel hastened to explain. He grimaced. “I am just not—I am not ready to speak of it. Ees all. Ees not personal.”

“Of course, Ensign.” Selek—Spock—whoever this mad bastard was—nodded graciously. “I will leave you to your work; I understand that solace can be found in performing well, the duties which one is responsible for carrying out.” He paused. “But if you should ever wish to speak to me, Mister Chekov, you may enquire at the Vulcan embassy here in San Francisco. Or, you may appeal to your own Commander Spock for my contact information.”

Pavel could think of nothing to say to that. He certainly didn’t want to promise that he would contact the elderly Vulcan, because he wanted nothing more than to forget the look on Commander Spock’s face when he had realized that Chekov hadn’t been able to beam his mother aboard. Finally, he settled on a simple “thenk you, sir.” It seemed to be enough, and Selek--Spock--extended him one long, deferential nod of his wizened head, offered another ta’al, and disappeared as quietly as a cat. 

Pavel shook his head at himself. Selek had disappeared so completely that Pavel was left wondering if the whole meeting hadn’t been some kind of hallucination after all. He needed to get some rest. He picked up his communicator. “Ensign Chekov to Lieutenant-Commander Scott, please,” he requested.

“Aye, Scott here, laddie. All finished with that nav console, then? I could use yer help on the communications relay conduits.”

“Er—no—I, um…,” Pavel swallowed hard, horrified to realize his eyes had filled with tears. He opened his mouth to explain Selek’s presence, but the tears threatened to spill over onto his cheeks, so he closed his mouth again.

“Chekov?...Pavel?” Scotty sounded concerned. “Are yeh still there, lad? I cannae hear a blessed thing from yer end.”

Pavel cleared his throat. “Da, I am here, Meester Scott. I am…not feeling well. Requesting permission to leave early today—I weel make up meesing hours tomorrow. Ees…ees okay?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as rough out loud, as it did in his head.

Scotty was quiet for a moment. “Aye, lad. Take the time yeh need. Work’ll still be here tomorrow, and the day after for that matter .” He paused. “Do yeh need someone to walk yeh back to yer dorm?”

Pavel shook his head. “No, no. No, I weel be fine. I just need to get some rest.”

“Of course, laddie. Go on, away with yeh, then. And if I see yeh here tomorrow, yeh'd best be looking for all the world as though yer healthy and sane enough to be here, or I’ll take yeh back to yer rooms meself. Yer well being is more important than fixing a few conduits and navigation panels.”

“Thenk you, sir. Chekov, out.” Pavel closed his communicator and fisted it, squeezing the polyurethane covering tightly before slipping it in his pocket and straightening up his tools. Now that he had permission to leave, he felt marginally less anxious, as though the pressure in his emotional equilibrium had been vented.

Slightly.

/*\

Nyota watched Lieutenant-Commander Scott close his communicator and stuff it back in his pocket. Poor Pavel--he sounded rough. Something must have happened...she briefly debated asking Scott if she could go, as well, to check up on Pavel. But, no--Pavel wasn't a child, and she'd gotten much better at not treating him like he was. If he needed her, he would let her know. She sighed. 

“Yeh look tired, lass.”

Nyota glanced down at Scott’s conversational tone. From inside the communications relay hold, which was nothing more than a human-sized hole in the deck, he caught her eye. “No’ in a bad way,” he hastened to add. “I mean t’say, yeh look…er–,”

Nyota felt a smirk grow. “There’s no nice way to say it, is there? I know what you mean, sir. We’re all exhausted, and we look it.”

“Aye.” Scott gave her a grim smile. “It’s been a long month, that’s for sure. And I’m sure it feels even longer than that for yeh.”

“What do you mean?” Nyota sat back on her haunches and wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. When she’d arrived on the ship that morning, Mister Scott had snagged her to help him fix the ship’s main communications relays. They’d been at it for hours, now, and were only a fraction of the way finished. Nyota sighed; this job was going to take days, if not a week. 

Scott shrugged from inside the relay hold. “Wrench,” he requested. She handed him his wrench. He made short work of the fastening in front of him. “Plasma torch, please,” he added, handing her back the wrench. 

She watched him work, relaxing minutely as he showed he was, in fact, capable of doing the job that Kirk had basically kidnapped him to do. “I know yeh don’t do it for people to take notice of, Lieutenant,” he continued a moment later, as though they hadn’t paused to change tools, “but I’ve seen how yeh’ve been taking care of everyone. Pavel and Hikaru, Jim and Leonard—they’re no’ an easy bunch of customers on a good day, but yeh still make time to be there for them.” 

Nyota couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so she shrugged. “That’s what friends do,” she replied. Scott raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Aye. And yeh do it well, lass. I dunno what poor Pavel would do without yeh. It’s damn good of Hikaru to let you stay in his space.”

“Given that he’s off having survivor’s-guilt sex with his boyfriend every night, I don’t think it was a hardship for him to loan me his bunk,” she replied wryly. Scott nodded.

“Aye, and if it weren’t—as y'said—survivor’s guilt sex, then I’d agree with yeh, lass.” He handed her back the plasma torch. “Yeh’ve kept Leonard from drinking himself into a hole and Jim is, from what I hear, not out having survivor’s-guilt sex with anything that moves. I understand that that’s quite an achievement for him.”

Nyota rolled her eyes. “That has nothing to do with me,” she replied. “Kirk and I barely get along.” Not as true anymore as it would have been a month ago, exactly, but they were definitely still feeling out this new way of relating to each other. 

“Och,” Scott scoffed. “Then what, lass? Because, to me, yeh seem to be the common thread.” Scott paused and folded his arms on the edge of the hold. He rested his chin on his arms and looked up at her. “Yeh comfort Pavel. Yeh've made it possible for Hikaru to emotionally and mentally heal from all of this, with the love of his life, without feeling guilty for not being there for Pavel. Yeh slow Leonard’s drinking down. And yeh are a physical reminder to Jim that he should have been a better man for yer roommate, God rest her.” Scott studied her carefully; she closed her eyes and willed her exhausted tears back. 

“If you say so,” she whispered. 

“I didn’t have to, lass,” he replied, “because each of them said it first. Pavel told me he’d’ve probably quit Starfleet by now if it weren’t fer yeh. Hikaru thinks that yer the best thing since sliced bread. I’ve watched Leonard turn drinks down when yer out with us, lass. And Jim…” Scott shook his head. “Jim is trying, lass. He told me about Gaila. He told me he should have treated her better. He told me that you took him to task for his behavior, and that he was trying to show you that he’s not that same asshole who fucked things up with her.” Scott patted her knee. “Yer the glue holding those lads together right now, lass. And that responsibility comes with a lot of headaches, and a lot of heartache. So me question for yeh is—who is taking care of you?”

Nyota swallowed hard. The true answer was, nobody. Pavel was a mess and Hikaru was off with Ben every second he could get. Leonard was swamped at Starfleet General and Jim had his hands full trying to learn Pike’s job before they shipped out in a few months.

And Spock? She’d seen neither hide nor hair of him since they’d gotten back to Earth. He was around, she knew. But by the time the ship had limped back to Terra after nearly being sucked into an alternate reality, Spock had become so closed-off and unapproachable that she’d given up. 

Which she hated. She was not a quitter. Gaila would have given her five kinds of hell for it, but Nyota couldn’t bring herself to put herself out there to him anymore. He was living through something she couldn’t even begin to imagine, and he was nothing if not logical; if it were logical to seek her out to help him further process his thoughts and feelings about Vulcan, then he would seek her out. 

But he hadn’t. She could only conclude that she wasn’t a logical part of his plans anymore. 

But she was lucky, she knew. She’d been close to Hikaru and Pavel, and with Leonard and Kirk to a lesser extent, for years–and they’d all made it. And now, the shared experience of living through Nero’s attack, of working together to survive, of grieving together for their lost friends and classmates–of grieving for Gaila–all of that heartache and grieving had drawn the five of them closer to each other than they’d ever been in the academy, even if they were five kinds of a hot mess.

She felt so detached from the life she’d led before Nero—not more than a month ago. How had things changed so drastically in such a short amount of time? So much loss, so much grief, so much pain and uncertainty—it felt like the only constant in her life right now, was her boys. Pavel, Leonard, Hikaru—and by extension, Ben—and even Jim.

Nyota glanced at Lieutenant-Commander Scott, who was still studying her carefully. Even Scott, she realized, felt more like a friend, like a confidant, than almost anyone else she had known before Nero. He fit into this new life she was being forced to build for herself. She swallowed hard and looked down at her lap.

“I’ll take that silence as confirmation that no one has been looking out fer yeh, lass,” he said gently. She shook her head.

“I’m fine, Mister Scott.”

“Well, as much as those lads need yeh, jus’ remember that yer allowed to need them, too, lass,” Scott replied. “Don’t yeh be forgettin' that. It’s okay to lean on them when yeh need to. Y’know that they would do their best to support yeh. Aye, lass? Me included. I’m always happy to listen if yeh need a sympathetic ear.”

She felt a lump form in her throat. For all that Scott had shown up on the bridge with Jim looking like a half-drunk, half-manic, half-drowned old cat, railing about the lack of sandwiches on Delta Vega, he was proving to be remarkably insightful and easy to talk to. “Thank you, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Aye, and this ‘sir’ thing has got to go,” he added. “Me friends call me Scotty, lass.” 

Jim and Leonard called him Scotty. So did Hikaru. Pavel, she thought, was too caught up in a serious case of hero worship to call him anything but ‘Meester Scott’. She nodded. “I didn’t want to just assume I had the right to call you that, sir.”

“Scotty,” he corrected gently. “And that’s why I’m telling you, yeh can. Because you waited to make sure. Yer a good woman, lass. I’d like to think of yeh as a friend.”

She smiled. “Likewise…Scotty. It’s Nyota.”

He nodded. “Well, then—Nyota. Can we trade places so yeh can take a look and make sure I fixed yer precious relay correctly?” he teased with a grin. 

“You ham-fisted engineers always mess something up,” she teased right back as he hoisted himself out of the hold. He chuckled.

“I think we’re going to get along just fine, Lieutenant Uhura.”

She grinned. “I think you may be right, Lieutenant-Commander Scott.”

/*\/*\

Chapter Text

July 2258 

/*\ 

The next month passed in a blur of repairs and reports and meetings and the official naming of Jim’s bridge crew—he smiled faintly to himself as he looked over the most recent duty roster for their upcoming mission. There was something satisfying about seeing the word Captain next to his name, sure, but there was something even more satisfying about seeing his friends’ names and positions listed directly under it.

Lt.-Cmdr. Scott, Montgomery C.—Second Officer/Chief of Operations/Chief Engineer

Lt.-Cmdr. McCoy, Leonard H.—Chief Medical Officer/Sciences

Ens. Chekov, Pavel A.—Chief Navigations Officer/Tactical

Lt. Sulu, Hikaru S.—Chief of Aviation/Senior Helmsman/Tactical

Lt. Uhura, Nyota—Chief Communications Officer/Operations

Even seeing Lt. Giotto, Salvatore—Chief of Security/Operations filled Jim with a sense of satisfaction. He and Giotto had gotten off to a rough start, sure, but that bar fight in Riverside seemed like it had happened in a different life, now. And maybe it had; after all, he’d already had practice thinking of his life in terms of before and after traumatic events.

Before Frank and After Frank. Before Tarsus and After Tarsus. And now, Before Nero and After Nero.

Whatever it was, over the past three years, he and Giotto had developed a grudging respect for each others’ abilities, and Giotto was already a helluva security officer. They weren’t necessarily friends, but Jim’s people were safe in Giotto’s hands.

“Looking at that Captain next to your name again?” Pike asked from across his desk. Jim looked up and met Pike's eyes. 

Pike still looked pale and haggard, and his salt-and-pepper hair was decidedly more salt than pepper since Nero. He was sitting tall in his hoverchair, though, and those gray eyes on him were keen as ever; a faint, proud smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. Jim shrugged.

“Yes and no,” he replied. Pike raised an eyebrow. Jim shrugged. “I just got the most recent duty roster. I got the bridge crew I wanted.” He was more relieved than Pike would ever know. The idea of shipping out into the unknown with a bunch of people he didn’t know and had never worked with, in his first official outing as Captain, had been causing his stomach to tighten into anxious knots for weeks. 

There was something reassuring about the idea of having Bones nearby, and of listening to Hikaru and Pavel tease each other over the helm like they had for years at the academy. In watching Uhura roll her eyes at him, something she’d been doing with more affection and less venom lately. It was a welcome change. 

“Of course, you did,” Pike replied. “Your friends are the top of their respective fields, have proven themselves against insurmountable odds, and you all have shown you can work together for the greater good. We’d have been idiots to split you up.” Pike considered for a moment. “Although, I will say—it took a lot of convincing to get Archer to agree to Scott’s posting on the ship in the first place. To go on to request him as your second officer was a ballsy move, kid.”

“I need someone experienced to be there with me,” Jim replied quickly. “Scotty has more experience being on board a starship than any of the rest of my senior crew.” He glanced back down at the duty roster. “Than most of the rest of my crew, period,” he admitted. Pike raised an eyebrow and allowed the point with a small tilt of his head.

“Then why not make him your first?”

“He asked me not to.” Jim shifted in his chair. “He knew how much I’d already risked by requesting he even be on the ship. He knew Archer would never go for having him as my first officer. Besides…,” Jim paused and thought back to everything he’d learned from his brief meld with Ambassador Spock. “We have another candidate in mind. We’re still working on him.”

“’We’?”

Jim shrugged. “Bones and Uhura and Scotty, and Hikaru and Pavel, too. They’ve got a vested interest in this, as well. It’s a team effort.” 

Pike pressed his lips together; somehow, the man knew exactly who they were trying to recruit. Surely, Pike understood--after all, Spock had been his own first officer when he’d commanded the ship. “You might not be able to convince him, Jim. The Vulcan people are…their entire universe is in shambles.” He shook his head and looked away for a moment. “Commander Spock isn’t wrong for wanting to contribute to the rebuilding of his culture.”

“I know, I know—I just—,” Jim broke off. Pike knew about Ambassador Spock, but he didn’t know about the meld on Delta Vega. And Jim wanted to keep it that way: private, for him and only him to think on and consider at his leisure. “We made a good team up there, at the end. He’s got experience on a starship and in a command position. And as my new comms chief and my CMO are fond of pointing out, I need someone as logical as a Vulcan to balance out my—how did they phrase it?—my inherently illogical infantile enthusiasm.”

“Good luck with Uhura and McCoy,” Pike replied with a chuckle. “They’re going to keep you honest, if nothing else.” Jim grinned despite his exhaustion.

Because he was exhausted. They all were. And shipping out wasn’t going to make anything easier. He scanned the date at the top of the roster. “We’re shipping out in less than a month,” he said quietly.

“The ship is ready,” Pike replied evenly. “Your crew is selected. And the Federation needs Starfleet’s presence back out there again, sooner rather than later.”

“I know, and I’m…I’m excited, but—but everyone is still dealing with all the shit that went down at Vulcan. They’re selected, yeah, but I don’t know if they’re ready.” Jim swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t admit this to anyone but you, but I don’t feel like I’m ready,” he confessed honestly. 

Pike nodded knowingly and leaned forward. The look in his eyes was one of complete understanding and compassion; the only other people who had ever looked at him like that were Elenora, Horatio, and Bones. “Jim, if you thought you were ready to put people's lives on the line, if you really believed that you were going to be the master of no-win scenarios like you did in the academy, I'd yank your ass out of that chair faster than you could blink."

Jim did blink, multiple times, blankly at Pike; it certainly hadn't been the answer he was expecting. Pike shook his head. "Jim, if you're any kind of a decent human being, any kind of a decent captain, you'll never feel ready to put your crew's lives in danger. You'll never feel ready to make the kind of soul-shattering decisions that are going to come up, guaranteed." Pike studied him, his gaze intense, for a long moment. "Humility is a lesson every captain has to learn, and the truth of it is that you're going to learn it the hard way, because humans are hard-headed stubborn fools, and human starship captains are an arrogant bunch. There will always be that one mission that you’re not ready for.”

“Not your most inspiring pep talk, sir," Jim replied with a sigh.

Pike smirked. "You’ll do the best job you can, Jim, and that’s all that’s expected of you, son. Of all of you. The best you can, with the tools and information available to you at the time, with the best crew in the fleet to support and advise you.”

“And…and if my best isn’t good enough?”

He swallowed hard as he waited for Pike’s reply. Because wasn’t this what it came down to? Despite the cocky front he showed the world, Jim knew that underneath it all, he was an insecure bastard. 

“It will be,” Pike replied. A faint smile crossed his face. “You’ll rise to the occasion, Jim, if everything I know about you is true. Things aren't always going to end the way you want them to, but I have no doubt that you will act with integrity no matter the situation.” Pike narrowed his eyes at Jim. "Or, at least, you'll learn, quickly, from the few times you don't. The fact is, Jim, that I don't think that there's anyone better suited to take over command of my ship, than you. I have faith in you, kid. Your friends have faith in you." He met Jim's eyes. His next words carried the weight of a thousand suns, and both heartened and terrified Jim to his core:

"And now, Captain, you've got to learn to have faith in yourself."

/*\

When he left Pike’s office not twenty minutes later, he found Scotty and Uhura sitting in the sunshine at the top of the steps of Cochrane Hall; Uhura was leaning back on her hands, her head tilted towards the sun, eyes closed, basking in the warmth like a cat. She looked marginally more relaxed than Jim had seen her since they'd come home. Scotty was eating an ice cream cone, some bright blue confectionary monstrosity that was dripping steadily onto his hand and the pavement as he licked.

Jim took a minute to contemplate just what it meant for his sanity, that Uhura and Scotty had become such good friends over the past few months. They'd become practically inseparable, spending as much time as they did working on the ship together. Jim was probably royally fucked. Between Bones' mother-henning, and Uhura and Scotty teaming up to call him on his bullshit, he would be lucky to make it through the first six months of their tour with his sanity, and his dignity, intact.

Oddly enough, the thought of it didn't overly bother him. He smirked to himself as he sat next to Uhura. 

“Hey," he greeted them. Uhura opened her eyes at his voice and sat up. "What are you two doing here?” he asked. 

"Waiting for you," she replied. Scotty reached across her to offer Jim a lick of his ice cream. It dripped casually onto her lap, and she scowled. “Seriously, Scotty? It looks like a Smurf sneezed on me,” she added.

“Oops--sorry, lass,” Scotty apologized sheepishly. Jim quickly took the dripping cone from him before she could backhand it out of the man's fist, then licked around the edge quickly; it was cold, and fruity and sweet and pretty damn good, actually. Jim hummed his appreciation.

“Tasty, Scotty. Where’d you get it?” Jim asked. 

Scotty’s chest puffed out proudly. “Enterprise's replicators. They might make shite coffee, but the ice cream is top-notch.” Jim laughed and licked it again. 

“Ice cream's a worthy tribute, but I'd recommend you get that coffee up to snuff, too, or else we're going to have a full-scale mutiny on our hands," he replied. Scotty chuckled as Jim took another lick. "So…you two don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday morning, than hang around on the front steps of Cochrane Hall?” he asked, taking one last lick and handing it back to Scotty.

“We wanted to talk to you,” Uhura replied seriously, "and this was the only time we knew we could leave the ship, and snag you at the same time." It said a lot about how busy they'd all been, that in order to have a short face-to-face chat with him, Scotty and Uhura had had to practically go AWOL from the ship and stake out Cochrane Hall. God forbid any of them get to have down time to spend together.

Jim missed his friends. The academy had been stressful, sure, but then he'd had Bones and Gaila, and Hikaru and Pavel to hang out with. To vent off some of that stress. Now, he had to really think to remember the last time he'd just shot the shit with any of them. The night of his promotion ceremony, maybe? Jim sighed again. He really was exhausted.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. Uhura's tone ratcheted up the anxiety knotting in his stomach.

“It’s about Pavel,” she admitted soberly. Jim felt his stomach sink. He'd never doubt Nyota's judgement if she was saying something was wrong with Pavel; the fact that he didn't have a clue what was going on with the kid, sank like a weight in his stomach. Yeah, they'd all been busy--but by unspoken agreement, Pavel was, and had long been, their joint child. Their little brother. Hikaru's at first, then Nyota's, then his and Bones'. 

And Gaila's. He inhaled deeply and sighed, willing back the wave of sadness that hit him in the gut at the thought of her and just how she'd loved to tease Pavel. 

“Aye, but it's also about Hikaru, and Leonard, and you, and me and Nyota, here,” Scotty added. Jim furrowed his brow.

“Okay...I'll bite. What about us?” Jim asked warily. “What happened?” Maybe Bones had finally drowned himself in a barrel of bourbon. Maybe Pavel had cracked and run off to join the circus. Maybe Hikaru had started chasing San Franciscans around Union Square with a fencing foil. Jim shook his head. 

“Aye, well...yeh've got the official duty roster, aye?”

“Yeah.”

“So yeh know exactly when we’re being deployed?”

“…yeah, why?” The date loomed large in his mind. 

Uhura finished brushing the ice cream off her lap and sighed. “Because," she replied simply. She sighed again. "Because we’re all overworked, and overstressed, and I’m worried that Pavel is going to crack if he doesn’t take a break soon,” she said. She sighed again and glanced at Scotty. “We all are,” she added ruefully. “But Pavel…he’s so young, Kirk. He never got a chance to be a teenager, to just relax. Not really. That whole thing with Irina was the closest he ever got to acting like a normal teenager. This--Starfleet, all of this--has been his world since he was thirteen.” She sighed, and her normally impeccable posture slumped. "He's just...he's only seventeen. God, Kirk, he's still a kid. I can't even imagine dealing with all of this, with everything that happened--with losing Commander Spock's mother--at seventeen. Jesus, Kirk, I can't imagine dealing with it now, as a fucking adult."

“I know,” Jim replied. He shook his head at the idea of it. At thirteen, Jim was surviving Tarsus. He hadn’t had much of a support system when he’d gotten back to Earth, and so he’d gone on his merry, self-destructive way. By the time he was seventeen, he'd been fighting, screwing, and manipulating his way through the galaxy, only to finally wind up back home in fucking Riverside, of all places. “So, what do we do about it? I can’t not have him on the ship. He deserves it and I think I might actually break his heart if I try to leave him behind.”

To say nothing of the fact that Jim would not leave Pavel to his own devices the way he himself had been left after surviving mass genocide. He couldn't let Pavel struggle through this alone. He wouldn't.  Better to keep the kid on the ship, where they could all support him, than to warp off without him and leave him to self-destruct all by himself. 

“Of course you can’t,” Uhura replied quickly. "Hikaru would castrate you if you even suggested it." She glanced at Scotty. “We were thinking…more of a getaway. A vacation. For all of us.”

“Because Bones hasn’t slept more than three hours at a time since we got back, and Hikaru is having panic attacks that he thinks we don’t know about.” Jim nodded in agreement. “And because I feel like I’m about to explode from all the pressure of this job, and you two have been doing nothing except work on the ship twenty hours a day, seven days a week, in the two months we’ve been back. Am I right?”

“It pains me to admit it, but yeah, you're right,” Nyota agreed. She sighed. “We have to get away, Jim.”

“Get out of the city, even just for a few days,” Scotty added. “Everyone got a week’s leave, aye? And I know for a fact that nobody has used it yet. And if we keep going on like this, lad, we’ll never use it, and we’ll be out in the black before we know it, with none of the pressure we’re under vented.” He shook his head. “It’s a recipe for disaster, Jim. Trust me.”

Jim nodded. “So I assume you two have a plan, then?” Because two of his most senior Operations officers would have a plan. Of that, Jim had no doubt. 

/*\

Later that week...

Leonard swallowed hard as he tightened the seatbelt on his seat in the transport. Hikaru and Ben were across the aisle, and Pavel was sitting with Nyota behind them. In the seat next to him, Scotty took a small sip from a silver flask, shot Leonard a side-eyed glance, and held out the flask to him.

“Take a nip, Len, y’look like yeh could use it,” he offered. Leonard wasn’t proud of how quickly he reached out and grabbed it, or of just how big a swallow he took. Scotty chuckled as Leonard handed him he the flask back. “Knew I should’ve just packed the bottle,” he said lightly. “No’ a fan of flying, are yeh?”

“To say the least,” Leonard muttered back. 

“He suffers from aviophobia,” Nyota volunteered from behind them and across the aisle, leaning forward to tell Scotty the whole damn story. Christ, but Leonard could hear the smirk in her voice. “It’s a fear of dying in something that flies. That was the first thing I ever heard him say,” she added fondly. “Well, I guess he yelled it, actually. At a commander. Then he threatened to puke on Kirk.”

He heard Pavel let out a half-hearted snicker, and for that small laugh alone, Leonard could forgive Nyota for bringing the whole thing up. God knew, they hadn't heard the kid laugh in far too long. 

Scotty laughed, too, as Leonard made a show of rolling his eyes. “Aye, and did he actually do it? Toss his cookies all over Jim’s lap?” Scotty asked with an amused grin, leaning over Leonard to address Nyota.

“Of course I did,” Leonard replied dryly. “I’m a man of my word. Watch yourself, or I might do the same to you.”

“He did not,” Nyota contradicted him. “It was close a few times, though.”

“Speaking of, where is Jim?” Ben asked. 

“Dunno, but he’s gonna miss the transport if he doesn’t get here soon,” Leonard replied as his comm buzzed in his pocket. “Speak of the devil,” he added, scanning the message quickly. “Says he got called into a last-minute meeting with Pike, shouldn’t take long, but he’ll have to catch a later transport." Leonard snapped his communicator shut and rolled his eyes. He could take transports without Jim, damn it...but his nerves didn't seem to agree. He hated it. "Just fabulous.”

The doors to the transport shut, and around them, other passengers’ conversations petered out as the transport began to rise and pressurize. Leonard swallowed hard and gripped the armrests. Stupid, goddamn motherfucking modes of air transportation--

“Oi, don’ look now, but Hikaru looks nearly as nervous as you do, Len,” Scotty murmured, interrupting his mental tirade. Leonard managed to turn his head to glance at Hikaru, who was sitting stone still, hands resting on the armrests tensely, staring straight ahead and blinking slowly as the transport ascended and accelerated. 

Definitely odd. Hikaru was the most capable pilot Leonard knew. Leonard would have been a lot less nervous if Hikaru was the one behind the controls of their transport, that was for damn sure. 

Ben was glancing at Hikaru, too, a concerned furrow between his brows. Hikaru, for his part, either didn’t know they were all looking at him, or didn’t give a rat’s ass. Leonard smirked to himself. Knowing Hikaru? It was that he didn’t give a rat’s ass. A shared lack of Shits To Give was one of the reasons why he and Hikaru got along so well. 

Leonard glanced back at Scotty, who leaned in. “I’d think that that’s no’ normal behavior for a pilot in general, let alone one of Hikaru’s caliber,” he continued, his voice still low.

“It’s not. I’ve never seen him like that before,” Leonard murmured back. He gasped as they hit a pocket of turbulence, and gripped the armrests tightly. Scotty bit his lip and nodded.

“We’ll have to mention something to Jim." So Scotty had apparently drunk the Jim Kirk Kool-Aid. Leonard mentally sighed; one more person who thought Jim could do no wrong. Fantastic. "In the meantime, tell me, Len—who were the people in the pictures I saw on the desk in yer dorm?”

Leonard shook his head. When had Scotty been in the dorm? He had a vague recollection of going out drinking with the man and Jim a few nights ago, and he seemed to recall Scotty passing out drunk on the floor between his and Jim's bunks. He'd been gone by the time Leonard rolled out of bed the next morning, and  in the bustle of the day that followed, Leonard had forgotten all about it. He shrugged. “Oh, uh—my family. My parents, my sister. My daughter.”

Scotty looked surprised. “How’ve we been drinking together fer months now, and I dinnae know that yeh have a kid?” Leonard shrugged.

"I thought I told you about her a few nights ago when we went out with Jim," he replied honestly. Scotty raised an eyebrow and considered it, then grimaced and shook his head. 

“Aye, I seem to recall it now--Jo, yeh called her?--Josephine? Joelle? Joanna? Refresh me memory. How old is she?”

“Eight.”

“And…she lives with her mother, aye?”

“Yeah, we—ah, we’re divorced. Got divorced about three years ago, now.”

Scotty raised an eyebrow. “Was that before or after yeh enrolled at the Academy?”

“Before.” He glanced at Scotty. “I know what you’re trying to do. And I appreciate it, but it never works.”

“Och, aye? And what am I tryin’ to do?”

“Distract me.” He gestured to the transport around them. People were talking quietly in the seats around them; Ben was pretending to read a PADD while really glancing at Hikaru every five seconds, and Hikaru was breathing carefully through his nose, eyes closed as though he were asleep, even though he clearly wasn’t. Pavel, though, was asleep on Nyota’s shoulder, and she looked like she was dozing off as well. “Jim tries it every time we take an air transport somewhere.”

Scotty had the nerve to grin cheekily at him. “Fair enough. How’s about I just admit to a wild curiosity about why a man keeps knowledge of his daughter from everyone except, I’m guessing, Jim?”

“Is it really a secret, if I told you while we were drunk?" he asked. Scotty rolled his eyes an pinched his arm, hard. Leonard winced and drew his arm back, rubbing the sore spot ruefully. "Fine. They know,” he replied, gesturing to their friends across the aisle. “And Gaila did, too," he added quietly.

He glanced away and bit his lip--hard--against the grief that welled up at the very mention of her. God, how they'd taken her for granted; how they'd taken each other for granted, so easily. He managed to keep his tears in check as he thought back to Gaila, coloring and watching cartoons with Jo the previous summer--until it hit him, that he hadn't yet told Joanna about Gaila's death.

Shit. He'd have to find some way to explain the loss of her to his eight-year old daughter, to convey the magnitude of what they all felt, at the permanence of her absence. His heart ached at the thought of it. He swallowed back the bile that felt like it was rising in his throat and brushed a quick finger under his eyes to catch the stray tear or two. He shook his head and mentally shifted back to his conversation with Scotty. "They’ve all met her.”

“Oi, well, now I feel left out,” Scotty teased. He settled back in his chair. “So she lives in San Francisco, then?”

“No. Georgia.”

Scotty raised an eyebrow at him. “Then…when d’yeh get to see her, Leonard?”

“Christmas. A few weeks over the summer, she comes to stay with me. And that’s it. Her mother has full custody.”

“She stays with yeh—what, in the dorms? Is that allowed?”

“Nobody ever said anything,” Leonard replied. He still wasn’t sure it was entirely allowed, but apparently all of their friends were willing to keep her presence a secret. 

“And...and Jim--he was okay with a wee lass, staying in yer room? I feel like that would have, um, cramped his style, as it were.”

A faint smile crossed Leonard's face at the thought of how fiercely his little girl and her Uncle Jim loved each other. “Oh, Jim and her...they adore each other. It’s fitting, really, because maturity-wise, she’s probably got a few years on him," he added dryly. "They eat pizza for breakfast and ice cream for dinner when I have to go do shifts at SG. He’s been Uncle Jim since they met. He comes home with me and my sister for Christmas, to stay with our folks.”

Scotty smiled at him. “That’s actually verra…verra sweet, Len.” Leonard snorted.

“Yeah. My parents have taken him in as one of their own.” Leonard rolled his eyes a bit, thinking back on how sad it had made him to realize that Jim hadn’t known what the hell to do with a family that actually wanted him around at holidays and other celebrations. “My momma has claimed him as her middle child. Younger than me, but older than my sister. He loves it, just eats it up. He, ah…well, he didn’t exactly have an easy childhood.”

Which was a massive understatement. Tragic as it had been, George Kirk’s death hadn’t been the worst card Jim had been dealt; no, the untimely death of his father paled in comparison to the neglect of his absentee mother, the abuse of his asshat stepfather, being abandoned by his older brother, and the clusterfuck of Tarsus IV. The only family Jim had ever felt really wanted him until that point—his aunt and uncle and cousins on that planet—had been massacred by the governing body of that failed colony.

Really, if Leonard thought about it too hard, it became physically painful. Jim had no right to be as...as normal as he was. 

Honestly, it was no surprise that the kid basked in Elenora’s affection and Horatio’s attention like an abandoned puppy. No adult in his life had ever treated him as though he mattered, save Christopher Pike, until that Christmas almost three years ago when Leonard had brought Jim home for the first time. Leonard and his sister took it for granted, but seeing Horatio and Elenora through Jim’s eyes drove home exactly how fucking amazing their parents were. It was humbling.

“That’s no’ surprising, sadly,” Scotty replied sagely. He shook his head slowly. "The lad radiates a sort of sadness," he added, “and I'll not ask yeh to share his secrets." Scotty sighed. "So...so tell me more about yer folks, Leonard. Yer sister.”

Leonard smiled despite himself, thinking back to his family. “Um, well…my pa is a doctor. He's the reason I became a doctor, to be honest. My momma’s a nurse, though she didn’t work until my sister started high school. She stayed home with us when we were kids.” He thought for a moment. “They live on a small farm, about ten acres, back in Macon. I grew up with all manner of pets, I’m surprised I didn’t become vet, sometimes. And my sister, Madeline…well, she’s younger than me by just about ten years, actually. She’s in the Academy herself, now, is a mental health counselor at SG.”

“That’s quite an age gap," Scotty commented. "I've a younger sister, as well, but she's only a few years younger than me. Not spoken to her in years, actually, but...I understand about younger sisters," he added. "They're quite a...quite an enormous undertaking," he said, quietly.

And there was that sort of sadness to him, that he'd mentioned seeing in Jim. So Leonard wouldn't push, but he'd definitely keep it in mind, this sadness to Scotty that he was only just now learning about. Leonard sighed, then smirked to himself. 

“Yeah. To say the least. I was learning how to drive when she was starting kindergarten. She’s always been a giant pain in my ass,” he added affectionately. “And I mean that in the best way possible. I love her, and we’re definitely close. But I know she thinks I’m a pain in her ass, too.” He shook his head with a small grin. “Jim thinks we’re ridiculous, but the two of them are pretty close. I think he calls her for advice when he feels like he can't ask me. Like last summer? I was going to be screwed out of seeing my daughter, but Jim arranged everything so we could keep her in the dorms, so I'd have a chance to see her before she started school again. Madeline was the person he talked to first about the whole thing." He smiled in spite of himself. "She's the sister Jim never had, and by that, I mean that she gives him just as much shit as she does me.”

Scotty laughed. “And yer daughter?”

“Joanna,” he replied. He couldn’t help the fond smile that stretched across his face. “Eight going on eighteen. I’m not kidding when I say she’s more mature than Jim.” He sighed. “It hasn’t been easy for her. Her momma and I…it wasn’t a pretty divorce, and she was caught up in the middle. But she’s always handled it better than either one of us did.”

“She sounds like quite a young lass.”

“I mean, I’m sure I’m biased, but she is.” He shrugged, suddenly missing his daughter more than anything. “Jim and I are going to head to Georgia when we all part ways after Clearwater,” he added. “See my folks, spend time with Jo, before we’re deployed.”

Scotty offered him a kind smile. “It sounds like yer in for quite a week.” He offered another sip of the flask. Leonard grinned and took a quick sip, then handed it back. “Starting now,” Scotty added, gesturing out the porthole across the aisle, over Hikaru’s head. Leonard gaped; they were clearly descending, the sun out the porthole blinding. He turned back to Scotty, who was watching him with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Welcome to Florida,” he added, saluting him with the flask before taking a healthy sip. Leonard rolled his eyes.

“Fuck off,” he muttered. Scotty snickered as Nyota nudged Pavel awake and Ben pried Hikaru’s hand off the armrest.

/*\

Meanwhile...

“Uncle Jim!”

Jim barely had time to brace for impact, before he was knocked nearly off his feet by the cannonball that was his best friend’s kid. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed so tightly that it felt like his eyeballs might pop out of his head.

Around them, civilians went about their busy lives–-catching transports, meeting loved ones, waiting with varying levels of patience for late rides–-but Jim saw quite a few of them smile to themselves at the sight of Joanna hugging him to within an inch of his life, wrinkling his gray everyday Starfleet uniform in the process. 

He didn't give a single shit about the fucking wrinkles. He hugged her back just as tightly. God, if Nero’s attack had happened a month later, Joanna would have been in San Francisco with Elenora and Horatio when he’d dropped that goddamn drill into the bay, destroying the Golden Gate Bridge and flooding downtown San Fran with water violently displaced from the bay. She, and Elenora and Horatio, could have been killed. He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat just thinking about it. “Hey, Josie-Jo. Missed you, kid,” he replied. She un-buried her head from his stomach and looked up at him, not relinquishing her hold in the slightest.

She’d grown a few inches in the past year, but those big, brown eyes still looked the same; she was a little Bones, through and through. He leaned down and scooped her up. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck. He bowed his head against hers for a moment before a throat cleared nearby.

He opened his eyes and looked up, catching the eye of a woman he’d only ever talked to once, via communicator: Bones' ex-wife and Joanna's mother, Jocelyn McCoy.  

This woman may have tried to destroy any chance of a relationship between Bones and his daughter, but there was never going to be a way for her to deny who Jo’s father was. Joanna didn’t resemble her mother in the slightest, which Jim felt a savage little bit of pleasure in; Jocelyn had long, dark blonde hair, gray eyes, a tan that looked slightly too orange, and a long, thin nose on her long, thin face. She was pretty, sure, but in a very brittle, inauthentic way; or maybe he felt that way because of everything he'd heard about her.

Bones couldn't stand his ex, but he refused to bad-mouth her even when Joanna wasn't around. Elenora was--usually--too much of a class act to actually give voice to what a harpy she thought Jocelyn was, and Horatio could only ever see the good in everyone. But Madeline was, by her own admission, neither classy like their mother, nor eternally optimistic like their father. She hadn't hesitated to give Jim all the gory details about Bones' marriage and divorce as she knew them. When combined with what he'd overheard from Bones' infrequent conversations with the woman, well...true beauty, he knew, was about way more than just physical appearance. And in that respect, Jocelyn couldn't have been more unattractive.  

That thought in mind, Jim fought back the urge to narrow his eyes at her. Be civil, for Jo's sake, he reminded himself. “Hi, Jocelyn,” he managed. He set Joanna down on her feet, then stepped forward to shake her mother’s hand. Jocelyn looked decidedly unimpressed. “Nice to finally meet you.” Lies. But Jo was standing right there, and Jim was not going to give this woman the piece of his mind that he’d been mentally rehearsing for the better part of three years, now. Not in front of Joanna.

“So you’re Jim Kirk.” Her mouth flattened into an approximation of a smile. “Had the balls to meet me in person this time, I see, instead of getting my ex-mother-in-law to run interference.”

That Jim had picked Joanna up from Elenora’s house last summer had been a matter of convenience for all involved. Jocelyn had been too busy to wait around for Jim to arrive to pick Joanna up to bring her to San Francisco. Or so she’d claimed. 

Jim glanced down at Joanna, who was biting her lip anxiously as she looked between her mother and Jim. “Found a way to carve time out of your schedule to meet me this time, I see, instead of asking Elenora to do your job for you,” he replied, injecting as much mock-sincerity into his voice as he could. Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Careful, Mister Kirk," she warned. He fought back the urge to correct her, tried to tamp back the anger that sparked inside him at her arrogant tone. That's Captain Kirk, bitch, he thought. After the hell we all went through? It's Captain. "I still have final say in whether or not she goes with you. You’re not a family member.”

And despite his anger, Jim inwardly smirked. Clearly, she thought he was ignorant of Bones' new custody arrangements. Manipulative shrew. He briefly toyed with the idea of informing her just who had encouraged Bones to contact Starfleet's JAG office in the first place (Jim, enthusiastically backed by Madeline and Uhura and Hikaru), but it probably wouldn't help anything just then. “Hm. Your lawyer hasn’t gotten in touch with you in the past few weeks, has he? Because I think you'll find that things have changed.”

Jocelyn inhaled slowly, her nostrils flaring out slightly. “You can tell Leonard that siccing Starfleet’s lawyers on me wasn’t necessary.”

“Wasn’t it?” Jim studied her for a long moment.  He was trying really hard to not be such a smug, arrogant bastard these days. At least, not to people who didn’t deserve it. But Jocelyn deserved it. He let a small smile cross his face. “I’d say Bones was well within his parental rights to secure the legal resources available to him. It just so happens that the legal resources available to him are just a bit more powerful than the ones available to you. Sucks to be on the other side of things, doesn’t it?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Shouldn’t have made it so difficult for him to see his kid.”

“He shouldn’t have moved across the country.”

“He did what he had to do,” Jim countered. “And then he jumped through every fucking–-sorry, Jo-–through every fricking hoop you set him. And you still refused to make any sort of concessions to him–-no, I’d say it was definitely in his best interests to call the Starfleet JAG office. He’s a good man who just wants to spend time with his daughter when he can.”

“He’s an egotistical, arrogant Momma’s boy with a God-complex, who ran off and left me alone with his kid to raise. If that’s your definition of a good man, then I don’t know that I want my daughter spending any more time with you.”

“And you’ll find that his legal counsel has something pretty definite to say about that,” Jim retorted. He looked down at Joanna. “Josie-jo, you ready to go?” She nodded and snuck her hand into his.

“No, she’s not,” Jocelyn snapped. “I heard all about what happened with that whore friend of Leonard’s last summer, showing up to your room in the middle of the day in her underwear. And I know all about you, Jim Kirk. And I think I might be changing my mind about letting her go with you.”

Her pointed, arrogant words snapped the last shred of his patience and he felt his temper flare. “And I know all about you, Jocelyn McCoy. I know how you treat your kid like a pawn in a chess game. I know how you ran around on Bones the entire time you two were married. I know how you picked fights with Madeline and his mother just to go on later and say they’d provoked you, how you tried to destroy his relationship with his family. I know how you and your family badmouth Bones when Jo’s around, and I know how his family refuses to do the same.” 

Jim inhaled deeply and had to hold it for a moment before he continued, because he absolutely would not let the dig at Gaila go and he had to remember not to cuss quite so much around Jo. “And as for that whore-–she was no such thing,” he said tightly. His anger was bleeding through in his tone, he knew it, but fuck if Jocelyn didn't deserve that, too. “She was my girlfriend, and she would have never shown up like that if she’d known Jo was there. She treated your daughter with kindness and affection and respect. She died a fucking hero-–so don’t you ever bring her up again, do you understand me? You, who cheated on your husband throughout your marriage--how dare you call her a whore. How dare you call her anything--you, Jocelyn McCoy, aren't worthy to even have her name cross your fucking lips.”

“Wait–-what?" Joanna’s horrified voice ripped Jim from his righteous anger. "Miss Gaila is–-Miss Gaila died?” Jim's heart sank. Shit, he thought. How had he and Bones not told her? How had he let her believe that Gaila would be waiting in Clearwater for them with everyone else? He looked down at her; her eyes were welling up with tears. “Uncle Jim?" she whispered. "What do you mean?” Jim exhaled noisily and knelt so he was eye level with her. He breathed in and out shakily as his own eyes started to fill with tears.

Fuck Jocelyn. He didn’t rightly care that she was hanging on to every word of their exchange; Joanna deserved to hear the truth. “Yeah, kid. She, uh…she died. I’m…I’m so sorry, Jo.” He swallowed hard and blinked back his tears as hers started to roll down her cheeks.

“But–-when?” 

“In May. She died fighting Nero. Do you know who I'm talking about?”

She nodded. “Aunt Maddie told me about what happened.” Her chin trembled and her shoulders started to shake. “What about–-what about everyone else?” she choked out. “Mister Pavel and Mister ‘Ru? Miss Uhura?”

Jim managed a rough smile as he nodded. “They’re all safe, Jo. I promise. They’re in Clearwater with your dad and Mister Ben, and a new friend of ours, waiting for us to get there.” She nodded back at him, even as she started to cry in earnest. Jim reached out and pulled her into a tight hug; she came willingly to him, crying and hiccupping into the shoulder of his uniform. He closed his eyes as he hugged her tightly and stroked her hair gently, not bothering to wipe the tears off his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to tell Momma about the underwear thing,” she whispered a few long moments later, her little voice broken. “I’m sorry, Uncle Jim.”

“Don’t be, kid. We’d never ask you to keep secrets from your mom,” he whispered back. She nodded and pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Use a tissue, Jo,” Jocelyn said. There was something other than heated venom in her voice as she said it; she sounded wary, now, glancing at Joanna as she fumbled through her pink backpack for a pack of tissues, and then at Jim, who was using the edge of his sleeve to wipe his own eyes. “Give Jim one, too.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Joanna replied quietly, her voice small and still choky. Jocelyn studied Jim for a long moment as he stood; Jim finally grew tired of her scrutiny.

Thanks to Starfleet’s awesome family lawyers, Jocelyn couldn’t keep Joanna from a planned visit with her dad, and Bones had made sure to list Jim right there with his parents and sister, as people who could act on his behalf where Joanna was concerned. It was time for them to get the hell out of Georgia. Bones and Uhura, and Pavel and Hikaru and Ben and Scotty were waiting for them, and Jo was going to need them, to start to process what Gaila’s loss truly meant.

Jo pressed a small tissue into his hand. He smiled at her and used it to wipe the last of his tears from his face, then stuffed it into the pocket of his uniform pants. “Thanks, kiddo,” he said. She only nodded up at him. “You ready to go?”

She nodded again and slid her hand into his. He turned to Jocelyn. “We’re leaving. You have Bones’ communicator info and mine if you need it.” He leaned down to pick up Joanna’s suitcase.

“Kirk, I'm…I’m sorry for your loss,” Jocelyn replied awkwardly. Jim felt his mouth press into a thin line as he simply nodded. Jocelyn knelt down in front of Joanna. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joanna whispered back. “I’d like to go see Daddy and our friends, now,” she added. Jocelyn nodded.

“Then give me hugs, and I’ll pick you up from your Grandma and Poppa’s house in a week. Behave for your father and Jim.”

Such an admonition was unnecessary, as Joanna was way more well behaved than both Bones and Jim would ever be. But she nodded seriously at her mother. “I will, Momma.” Joanna let her mother kiss her cheek, and gave her a tight hug goodbye.

Jocelyn waved as they walked away. Joanna waved back. Jim did not. Actually, Jim was pretty damn proud of himself for not waving his middle finger at her as they rounded the corner, and she disappeared from their sight. 

Okay. Survived picking up Jo. Next step: rental hovercraft. Then food, and then Clearwater. Jim nodded to himself and glanced down at Joanna, who was still holding his hand, and thought of how Bones was going to react when they showed up in Clearwater. The thought of it made him smile. Jo looked up at him, and even though her eyes were still pink from crying, she smiled back at him.

Bones was going to be so fucking thrilled. 

/*\

Nyota sighed and scratched her scalp lightly as Pavel flopped face-first onto one of the beds in their hotel room. She dropped her bag onto the other bed, then opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. She was hit with a nearly suffocating wave of heat and humidity. It was a welcome change from the unseasonably cool weather they’d been having in San Francisco; the sun was blinding, and for a moment, she felt like she was home in Nairobi.

A pang of homesickness hit her in the gut and she swallowed hard against it, then inhaled deeply; the briny smell of the Gulf of Mexico was relaxing. “Pavel, I think I could live here,” she called over her shoulder.

“Ees too hot,” he replied, speaking into the covers so that his petulant words were muffled. “I am from Russia. Florida ees…this place, ees Hell on Earth. I am going to be as fork een microwave.”

Nyota laughed. Hikaru's lessons in bring overly-theatrical were paying off. “We brought plenty of sunscreen. Come on, everyone is going to be ready to go to the beach in just a few minutes,” she added, stepping back into the room and sliding the door shut. She was already wearing her bathing suit under her shorts and tank top, so she pulled her beach bag out of her suitcase and started tossing items in—Pavel’s sunscreen, a PADD, her sun hat, sunglasses, and a bottle of water, a towel, and a small bottle of talcum powder. 

“I--I theenk I weel stay here,” he replied after a long moment. Nyota’s stomach dropped as she stopped and turned to face him. He was still speaking into the mattress. 

“Why? Are you feeling okay?” she asked. She bit her lip as she studied his thin shoulders and thick curls; she knew better than anyone just how much he’d struggled with the aftermath of Nero. He was depressed, she was sure, and she wasn’t sure how to help him. Her heart ached at the thought that he was suffering, and she was doing nothing to help. She hated feeling helpless.

He shrugged. “Just…tired,” he said. “I weel see you when you return, weel join you all for supper, da?”

What could she do? “Da, nichego strashnogo, no ya sobirayus' provesti tebya k obedu, Pasha.” He didn’t look up, didn’t say anything in reply; Nyota shook her head, then stepped closer to his bed and ran her fingers through his hair affectionately. “Vse budet khorosho, Pavel. My zdes', kogda my vam ponadobimsya, da?”

“Da,” he replied quietly. He still wouldn’t look at her. 

“I mean it, sugar. Whenever you need us. We’re worried about you.” She leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to his curls. “Until then, comm if you need anything.”

He nodded. With a reluctant sigh, Nyota stepped away from his bed, stepped through the door, and came face to face with Hikaru and Ben coming out of their room directly across the hallway. She pulled her door shut quickly as the door next to their room opened and Scotty stepped out. 

“Where’s…?” Hikaru asked. Nyota bit her lip and shook her head. 

“What?” Scotty asked. “Where’s Pavel?”

“He doesn’t want to come down,” Nyota said. “He says he’s tired, but he’ll join us for dinner.”

Scotty mumbled something to himself and pulled out his comm as Leonard emerged from the room next to hers. It only took him a moment to size up the situation. “He’s not coming with?” Leonard asked, gesturing to the closed door at her back. Nyota shook her head, feeling for all the world like a broken record. Leonard’s face darkened and his brow furrowed in concern. 

Nyota could relate. Pavel was depressed, she was certain that Hikaru was having panic attacks about flying, Leonard hadn’t looked so stressed in all the time she’d known him, and Jim had been acting as manic as a caffeinated chihuahua for weeks now. She couldn’t handle this, didn’t feel like she could handle much more. 

The glue holding them together, Scotty had called her. She felt like she was about to crack.

“Och, now,” Scotty spoke up. He was watching her with a concerned look across his brow. “We’re here to relax. So—to the beach. Wee Pavel will be okay. I just messaged Jim, he’ll check on Pavel when he gets here. If anyone can convince the lad to come down and get some sun, it’ll be Jim Kirk, mark my words.”

/*\

They were well on their way--over an hour into their trip, before Joanna said anything to him; she'd been sitting in a contemplative silence the entire time, staring out the window of the rental hovercraft, biting her lip and tapping her fingers on her knees. Jim knew enough from living with Bones for three years, to let her have her space. She'd talk when she was ready to, just like Bones did.

“Uncle Jim?” Her voice was still tiny and sad.

“Yeah, Jo?”

“Thanks for coming to get me. And for surprising Daddy.”

Jim felt a smile stretch across his face. They were passing Gainesville. “You’re welcome, Josie-posie. You want to stop for pizza? There’s this great little hippie place here in Gainesville.”

She smiled at him, but it wasn’t her usual, bubbly smile; it was sad and too grown-up, and it broke Jim’s heart just a bit to see it. “Pizza pounds good, Uncle Jim.” 

He nodded and rerouted the hovercraft to the outskirts of the city. Joanna's amused smile as she took in the building's eclectic decor made Jim smile, and as they waited for a table, she browsed through a selection of small toys in the small attached souvenir shop--old-fashioned toy soldiers, rubber monster fingers, tiny metal harmonicas, and the like--and Jim was glad to see that it looked like she'd managed to forget about her grief for a few minutes. 

They were seated pretty quickly, and as they talked about neutral subjects, they managed to demolish a whole pizza and two orders of peanut-butter buckeyes. And she tried to talk him into getting ice cream as well, but he managed to stick to a firm no. He, unlike Bones, was not a sucker for the puppy-dog eyes. 

Jim was paying their bill when his comm pinged with an incoming message from Scotty. Wee Pavel is refusing to come out of his room. The rest of us are heading to the beach. We’ll be there when you lot arrive. See if you can pry the lad from the hotel, would you?

Jim bit his lip and shook his head minutely at Scotty’s message. “What’s wrong?” Joanna asked as they got back into the hovercar and Jim directed it towards Clearwater. Jo did look marginally more cheerful for the two slices of pizza and four chocolate-peanut butter buckeyes she’d eaten. He turned to face her as the hovercraft angled southwest and picked up speed.

“Nothing. Well, nothing new, I guess," he amended. "That was our new friend, Scotty.” Jim glanced at Jo, who looked mildly curious. He decided he’d better prepare her for their little crew’s new reality; they were not the same people she’d gotten to know last summer. “It’s about Pavel. He…,” Jim sighed. “Jo, Nero’s attack changed a lot of things for us. A lot of things went horribly wrong for all of us, including Miss Gaila. And we’re all…Jo, we’re all still sad and…and angry, and we’re trying our best to handle it, but…it’s a lot that we’re all trying to deal with. Does that make sense?”

“Big feelings are hard,” she agreed quietly, sagely. Jim couldn’t help the fond smile that touched his face. God, he loved this kid.

“Yeah. Just…we’re all a little different, now. Including Mister Pavel. He’s having a harder time than the rest of us…one of our crewmates, his mother died, and Pavel feels responsible.”

Joanna met his gaze steadily. “Was he?” she asked skeptically, as though her beloved Mister Pavel could never be responsible for something so terrible.

“No.” Jim shook his head. “Nero was. Pavel, he…nobody could have done anything more than what he did, trying to save her. But he’s having a hard time accepting that. He feels guilty. And he’s been shutting himself away from the rest of us because of it.” Jim shook his head. “Like you said. Big emotions are hard.”

“But we’ll be there for him,” Joanna replied evenly. She nodded to herself. “That’s what friends do.” 

Jim had to swallow hard against the tears that choked his throat, even as he nodded in agreement with her decided statement. She was truly her father's daughter; compassion was something that came to her as easily as breathing. He smiled.

God, he loved this kid.

/*\

Pavel must have dozed off, because he was startled into awareness by the firm knocking on the door to his hotel room. He exhaled noisily as he pushed himself off the bed, using the nearby wall to steady himself through a brief moment of disorientation and vertigo, before he plodded to the door blindly; the room was still painfully bright, even though it was close to 1830. How was it that Floridians weren’t all blind by the age of twenty? The sunshine here was too much. Too bright and too damn hot. This state was miserable. 

It suited his mood perfectly. 

The knock sounded again as he reached the door, but he didn’t bother with the peephole. What did he care who was on the other side? It was probably Hikaru or Nyota, come to berate him about joining them all on the beach. He sighed and shoved back the ever-present guilty feeling that he was doing nothing but disappoint them lately. He shoved back the exhaustion and resentment he felt towards all of his friends, that they all seemed to be coping just fine with everything that had happened over Vulcan, while he felt like he was spiraling down a dark hole at warp eight with no inertial dampeners.

He sighed again and swung the door open, then drew back in surprise. Because there, on his doorstep, were Jim Kirk and Miss Joanna McCoy, both in bathing suits and flip flops. Jim had two beach towels tucked under one arm, and a soccer ball under the other. Pavel could do nothing but blink at them for a long few moments as he processed their unexpected appearance--Joanna, especially.

She stepped forward and gave Pavel a tight hug around the waist. “Hi, Mister Pavel,” she said, pulling back and looking up at him. She was taller than she'd been last summer, and there was a sadness--a gravity--in her eyes as she studied him carefully; there was an air of maturity in her countenance that hadn't been present a year ago. She wasn't the bubbly little girl he'd enjoyed hanging out with last summer, anymore. He felt tears well up and swallowed them back impatiently. He was so fucking sick of crying. 

“Hello, Miss Joanna,” he replied, his voice gravelly. He cleared his throat roughly. “Ees lovely to see you again, milyy."

“You, too,” she said. She smiled. “I missed you. Come on–-get changed. It’s beach time,” she added. He inhaled deeply and looked up at Jim, who gave Pavel a sad smile and nodded encouragingly. Pavel looked back down at Jo, who was watching him expectantly, and he felt himself wilt. 

Getting changed into his swim trunks and walking down to the beach sounded like well more than he was capable of doing at the moment; he was exhausted just imagining it. But Joanna looked so hopeful, and Pavel knew that, in reality, Nyota and Hikaru were worried about him, not disappointed in him. He could do it, for them. He could try, at least. 

He could try, for Joanna, who was watching him with way more wisdom than an eight-year old should have–-and he could try for Jim, still smiling encouragingly from behind her. He could try for Hikaru and Ben, and Nyota, and Leonard and Mister Scott, too, now–-for the people who had refused to give up on him, who had become like family so long ago–-he could do it. He would. 

So he nodded and inhaled shakily. “I…okay, Miss Joanna. Give me moment, da? I weel change and we can go to the beach.”

“If you’re not out here in five minutes, I’m coming in after you,” Jim promised. “Uhura left an extra keycard to your room at the desk for me.” Joanna nodded at his side, seriously, with her arms crossed sternly over her chest like a miniature enforcer. 

For the first time in a long time, Pavel felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Understood, Keptin Kirk. Understood, Keptin McCoy. I weel be out momentarily.”

"Clock's ticking, dude," Jim replied. Joanna nodded firmly next to him.

"Yeah. Clock's ticking, dude," she echoed. The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth spread across Pavel's face, and he was surprised at how foreign it felt--and at how it didn't hurt quite as much as he thought it would. 

/*\

Leonard settled back into his rented beach chair and closed his eyes. In the chair next to him, Nyota was working on a crossword on her PADD. The waves crashed on the shore, the sound of it familiar and comforting. It reminded him of all the trips to Jacksonville Beach he’d taken with his parents and Madeline growing up. 

He heard shouts from the direction of the ocean; Hikaru and Ben were bobbing in the waves, shouting encouragement at Scotty, who was struggling to stay upright on a rented surfboard. Leonard shook his head. 

“They’ll never get him upright, not with these waves,” he commented. “Too small, not enough energy behind them.” Scotty toppled over. “We should have gone to the Atlantic coast. Or better yet, to Hawaii or something.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nyota replied idly as she tapped on another clue. “They don’t seem to mind it.” She glanced out at them and smiled to herself; Leonard couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was clear that Hikaru was giving Scotty good-natured shit. Scotty was splashing water back at him. They looked for all the world like a couple of stupid, carefree teenaged kids goofing off together. Leonard smiled, too. “It’s good to see them relaxing a little bit. I just wish…” Nyota trailed off. 

“Pavel?” he asked. 

She bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed.

“Jim and I spoke to my sister about him,” he admitted. “To see what we could do about getting him some counseling before we ship out, what kind of services Starfleet could offer while we’re out in the black.” He sighed again and shook his head. “I know the powers that be feel like the medical officers should also be mental health counselors, and part of our training does involve xenopsych, but it’s not the main focus of the general medical course. Not by a long shot. I’ll never understand why the psychiatrists and psychologists are all grounded.”

“What did your sister say? About Pavel?”

“That crew members with impending deployments get priority when it comes to services, so she’ll see what she can do about getting him set up with a counselor that he can continue with long-distance while we’re out there. She said that she’d find someone or counsel him herself if she couldn’t.”

Nyota snorted. “Can she counsel us all long-distance?” she asked dryly. 

“I thought about packing her in my luggage,” he replied, equally dryly. Nyota chuckled. “What clue are you working on? Maybe I can help.” He leaned over to look at her PADD; it took him a moment to process that it wasn’t in English. “You’re doing a crossword puzzle in…what language is that?”

She shrugged sheepishly. “Vulcan.”

Leonard gaped at her for a moment, not sure which of the many questions in his head to ask first. “There are...Vulcan crossword puzzles?” he finally asked. Nyota snorted, then caught sight of something over his shoulder. She grinned and waved, the first really enthusiastic smile he’d seen on her face since before Nero.

“Daddy!” a high-pitched voice squealed loudly from across the beach. “Daddy!” He turned and saw a young girl with brown pigtail braids and a bright green bathing suit sprinting towards him through the fine, white sand. His mouth dropped open.

How in the holy fuck—he scrambled to his feet. “Joanna?” he asked in disbelief as she approached and jumped at him. He caught her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her up. “Jo—Jesus, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked as he hugged her tightly, her feet dangling and bumping into his knees.

“Language, Daddy!” She scolded playfully. “What do you think I’m doing here? I came to see you!” she exclaimed. He closed his eyes as he felt her press her face into his neck. Tears pressed against his eyelids and he hugged her tighter. Yeah, he and Jim were going to have seen her in a few days anyway, but he’d never let himself think about the possibility of seeing her longer than just the couple of days they were going to be in Georgia.

He opened his eyes; behind her, he saw Jim walking from the direction of the hotel with Pavel, both in swim trunks and carrying beach chairs and towels. Pavel had a soccer ball tucked under one arm. Jim waved and, even from the distance, Leonard could see the grin on his face. Leonard grinned back and hugged Joanna tighter before setting her down and kneeling in front of her.

“Uncle Jim came and picked you up, didn’t he?” Leonard asked, reaching out and fingering one of her pigtail braids. Jo beamed and nodded.

“Yeah. He said it was a surprise,” she replied. She glanced over his shoulder at Nyota, before her face turned slightly shy. “Hi, Miss Uhura,” she added.

“Hi, Sugar,” Nyota replied warmly. “It's so good to see you again. Did you and Jim have a nice trip?”

Joanna nodded eagerly; the momentary shyness melted away. “We stopped for pizza  in Gainesville, and then when we got here, we checked in and we got Mister Pavel out of his room and here we are!” She grinned and looked back up at him. “Can we go swimming, Daddy?”

Could they go swimming, she asked. Leonard grinned. “Do you know, sweet pea, I think we can manage that,” he replied as Jim and Pavel drew even with them. Leonard stood and hugged Jim just as tightly as he’d hugged his daughter, as Joanna started pulling Pavel towards the water. 

"There was no meeting with Pike, was there?" he asked. Jim just grinned and shrugged sheepishly. Leonard swallowed hard. “Thank you, Jim,” he whispered.

Jim clapped him on the back. “Let’s go swimming, Bones,” he replied with a grin.

/*\

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Joanna announced as they all trudged back up the beach from the water an hour later. Hikaru was carrying the surfboard and Leonard had Joanna piggyback. Jim and Nyota flanked them, and Ben walked behind with Pavel. He had a companionable arm slung over Pavel’s shoulders.

The weight of it felt, paradoxically, both foreign and familiar across his shoulders. Pavel struggled to make sense of it; he'd felt so detached from everything, lately, that this tactile show of friendship from his best friend's boyfriend, a man he'd long considered a friend himself, just wouldn't compute.

“What, you mean pizza wasn’t enough to fill you up earlier? Gee, what a shocker,” Leonard replied dryly. “See, this is why Uncle Jim isn’t in charge for more than a few hours at a time. You’d both starve.”

“Hey, now, I would have eventually gotten her something more filling,” Jim protested.

“Right. Like ice cream? Really healthy choice, Jim.”

“Dairy is an significant source of calcium,” Jim insisted as they approached their chairs. 

“Focus, children,” Hikaru said dryly as he propped the surfboard in the sand and sank onto a nearby blanket. Pavel considered collapsing next to him; he was exhausted. In a good way, yes, but still worn through. It had only been an hour since Jim and Joanna pried him from the hotel room, but it was the longest he’d spent with his friends since they had returned from the Battle of Vulcan, and he was feeling emotionally drained.

“We’ll go get dinner in a little bit, Jo,” Leonard promised. Jo pouted.

“How much longer, Daddy?”

Pavel was suddenly struck with an idea that would get him some time away from his well-meaning friends. “I am hungry as well,” he declared. “I can take Joanna to get food to hold her over, and then we weel rejoin you.”

“Yeah!” Joanna cheered. “Daddy, please? Mister Pavel can take me. I’ll get something healthy,” she added, hanging on Leonard’s arm. Leonard glanced over at Pavel.

“You sure, kid?” he asked warily. Pavel shrugged.

“I theenk I can be responsible enough to take care of her for twenty meenutes, Leonard,” he replied. Leonard shook his head.

“I know that, Pasha. I wasn’t trying to imply otherwise. Just don’t want you to feel obligated, just because this tiny garbage disposal decides she’s famished. She’ll be fine waiting for a little while yet.”

Pavel tried his best to smile. “Ees no bother, Leonard,” he promised.

/*\

The healthiest food he could find along the strip of stores near the beach was a fast-food hamburger restaurant. Joanna ordered a kids’ meal, chicken nuggets and apple slices and an orange soda, and Pavel himself opted for a hamburger and fries. They took their bags of food back in the direction of the beach, eventually drawing to a stop at a retaining wall under the shade of a squat palm tree. 

“What do you theenk, Miss Joanna? Will thees suffice?”

Joanna giggled and hoisted herself up onto the wall. “Sure thing, Mister Pavel.” She took the bag from him and started unpacking the food as Pavel lifted himself onto the wall next to her. She handed him his hamburger; he unwrapped it and started eating as she took a long sip of her soda. They ate in silence for a few long minutes, until Joanna spoke up.

“Mister Pavel? Can I ask you something?”

Pavel tried to look at Joanna as he took a large bite of his hamburger. He felt ketchup smear across his cheek as he managed to catch sight of her out of the corner of his eye; her chicken nuggets were still in their container in her lap. She was staring at them pensively. 

“Da, Miss Joanna?” he replied as he swiped at the ketchup on his face.

“Are you scared to go back out into space?” she asked. Pavel froze. 

Outside of seeing Joanna for a few days over the summer last year, his experience with young children went no further than the fact that he used to be one. How to answer a question like that? Say yes, and then she’s afraid for her father? Tell her no, and have her look at him in that way that children had, when they knew you were lying to them? He sighed and finished wiping his face. 

When he was a child, he appreciated the truth. He scoffed at himself; when you were a child—as though you are not one still. He sighed.

“Da, yes. I am,” he replied honestly, before he could think much more about it. Joanna turned to study him for a moment before she nodded. “Why do you ask, Jo?”

She shrugged, then opened her container of chicken nuggets. She picked one up and tore it into tiny pieces before replying. “Daddy is scared, too,” she finally said. “I can tell.” She shrugged minutely, then looked up and met Pavel’s eyes. “Daddies aren’t supposed to be scared of anything,” she added in a small voice.

“Oh, Joanna,” Pavel sighed. He set his hamburger back in its container. “Everyone ees scared of sometheeng.”

“Not my daddy,” she insisted. “He’s not afraid of anything. Not spiders, not snakes, not the closet or the underneath of the bed…not anything.”

Leonard McCoy was terrified of flying, it was a well-known fact among their peers at Starfleet. But it wasn’t Pavel’s place to disabuse the man’s daughter of the notion that he was the bravest man alive, so he sighed. “Why do you theenk he ees scared, then?”

She shrugged. “I heard him talking to Uncle Jim. He said he was afraid that something bad would happen and he wouldn’t be a good enough doctor to save everyone.” She glanced back at Pavel. “But he will be.”

Pavel smiled at the conviction in Joanna’s voice. “Joanna, your father ees best doctor I know. I trust heem weeth my life. We all do. But…Jo, ees nature of uniwerse, that sometimes…sometimes, people are lost, no matter how hard you try to save them. And your father tries harder than any other doctor I hev ever known.”

“I don’t want him to lose people. It makes him…it makes him so sad.”

Pavel reached out and gripped her thin shoulder. “I don’t want heem to lose people, either. But I promise, we weel be there for heem eef he does. Me, and Jeem, and Nyota and everyone. I promise. Okay?” 

“Okay.” She picked at her nuggets again, then put a tiny piece in her mouth. Pavel picked his hamburger back up. They ate in companionable silence for a long moment, the early evening sun filtering through the palm fronds onto their shoulders, the wall under them still warm. The waves off the Gulf rolled in serenely, the breeze coming off them lifting Pavel’s hair and blowing a few stray tendrils of Joanna’s damp braids around her shoulders. 

“Mister Pavel?”

He allowed himself a small smile. Joanna might be the only person in his life who saw him as an adult. “Da?”

“What you said, about losing people…Uncle Jim told me the same thing about you,” she replied. She glanced over at him as he froze. “He said you did everything you could and more, and nobody could have done anything more than what you did, but that Commander Spock’s momma still died.”

He inhaled deeply and tried to keep his last bite from coming back up. “Is that why you’re scared to go back out there?” she asked quietly. He looked straight forward.

“Perhaps,” he whispered.

She nodded. “Then I think you’re just as brave as my daddy,” she continued in that same tone of conviction she’d used just a minute ago. “And I really, really, really hope that nobody else gets lost, but I know that he’ll be there for you if they do. Just like you’ll be there for him. Because that’s what Mister Scotty says you do on a starship.”

Pavel smiled faintly. “Da, Meester Scott ees wery wise,” he replied quietly. She nodded sagely.

“Yeah. He says it’s because he’s an old man.”

Pavel chuckled and took another bite of his hamburger. As he chewed, he considered Joanna’s belief that he was brave. The idea that an eight-year-old had such faith in him should have been humorous, or perhaps terrifying, but the more he thought of it, the more at ease he felt. If she, in her earnest, childlike view of the world, believed that he was as brave as her father, then perhaps he would be wise to both believe in her faith, and attempt to live up to her expectations.

“Mister Pavel?” She asked hesitantly a long moment later. 

“Da?”

She was silent for another long moment. “Mister Pavel–-Miss Gaila…last summer, she said she was going to teach me how to hack into Starfleet’s mainframe,” she whispered, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “But Uncle Jim said…he told me that she…,” Joanna swallowed tightly. “Mister Pavel, I’ve never seen Uncle Jim cry before.” 

Pavel froze, his bite of hamburger going suddenly tasteless and feeling like ash in his mouth. He swallowed hard against the grief that seemed to bubble up so quickly, these past few months.

“I’m sorry she died, Mister Pavel,” Joanna whispered sadly. “I miss her. I bet you do, too.”

“Da,” Pavel managed. He cleared his throat. “Da, milyy. We all mees her, wery wery much.”

“Uncle Jim started to cry when he told me. I cried, too,” she said. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “She’s never coming back. That’s what it means, right? When someone dies? They never come back? That’s what Uncle Jim said.”

Pavel had to hold his breath for a minute and blink back tears before he could reply. “Da,” he finally managed. Joanna nodded, and he heard her sniff.

“But, why?”

“Why, what?” he asked. She turned to look at him, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. 

“Why do people have to die?” she whispered. Pavel found himself at a loss to answer her.

“Deed...deed Uncle Jim not say anything about that?” he asked. She shrugged.

“He said…he said humans were only built to live so long. That eventually, our bodies get old and stop working right. But sometimes, things happen that hurt our bodies so bad that they can’t heal, so even if we’re not old…sometimes young people die, too. But I still don’t understand why,” she added. Pavel sighed and shook his head.

“Jo, perhaps you should ask your father thees question.”

She shook her head slowly. “He’ll make something up that he thinks won’t hurt my heart to hear. Because I’m his little girl and he loves me and doesn’t want to hurt me,” she replied. “And I know you’re my friend and you don’t want to hurt me, either, but you’re the closest thing I have to a big brother and Aunt Maddie said she could always ask Daddy anything when she was my age, and he was always honest with her. So I’m asking you.”

He foundered for a moment at her words, then took a deep breath as he tried to gather his thoughts. She was right–-Leonard and Jim, they would try to protect her from the truth of it. He sighed and swallowed hard. “Een truth, Miss Joanna? I am not sure what the answer ees to your question,” he replied honestly. “Sometimes, death…sometimes eet seems so…nonsensical. So outside the laws of every science I hev ever studied, every religion I hev ever read up on. And I steel do not hev an answer to the question of why people die when they do.” He inhaled deeply. “Miss Gaila, though…she died because of the choices a madman made in his own grief. She was een the wrong place at the wrong time. She deed not deserve to die and she deed nothing wrong.”

“So anyone can die,” Joanna replied flatly. Pavel bowed his head. Leonard was going to have Thoughts and Opinions about this conversation, he just knew it. But again–-when Pavel was Joanna’s age, he appreciated the truth. When he was Joanna’s age, his best friend had been kidnapped and subjected to horrific violations. And he’d known when the adults in his life lied to him, then. So as his childhood moved on, in addition to not trusting the world around him anymore, he had to wonder if his parents were lying to him, as well. 

He would not lie to Joanna, would not make her feel like she couldn’t trust what the adults in her life were telling her. “Da, Joanna. I em sorry, but da. Anyone can die. And ees rarely fair, and it rarely makes sense. And eet hurts inside, and eet hurts for a wery long time.” She nodded slowly, her gaze fixed straight ahead as she absorbed his statements. “But…but people cannot live their lives afraid of eet,” he added. She turned to look at him. “We cannot live in fear, because we mees out on the things that make living so worth eet.”

“Like being with family. And friends. And playing on the beach?” she asked. He nodded.

“Gaila would hev loved a beach treep like this,” Pavel replied. Joanna smiled.

“She would have loved playing chicken in the ocean with us.”

“She would hev loved laying out in the sun like feline.”

“She would have loved trying to surf,” Joanna added. Pavel grinned. 

“She would hev loved being with all of us,” he said softly. Joanna nodded. “We all mees her, milyy. Miss Uhura and I hev spent many evenings crying together because we miss her so much. Mister Hikaru and Mister Ben, too. And your father, and Uncle Jeem.”

“I think I’m probably going to spend a lot of evenings crying, too. She was my friend,” Joanna said, her young voice breaking. Pavel reached over and put a hand on her shoulder.

“She was everyone’s friend. And I hev learned that grieving with friends helps it hurt less,” he replied honestly. Joanna nodded. 

“I think I’m not hungry anymore, Mister Pavel,” she said quietly. He considered the half-eaten hamburger in his lap.

“Me neither, Miss Joanna. Are you ready to return to everyone?”

She nodded silently and put her container of nuggets in the bag he held out to her. He threw out their trash, then let her climb on his back for a very quiet piggyback ride back to the beach.

/*\

“Goodnight, y’all,” Leonard said later that evening, as he and Joanna paused at the door to their hotel room after dinner in a nearby seafood restaurant. Jim and Scotty were holding each other steady in front of the door to their own room; otherwise, Hikaru was pretty sure they’d have both been swaying like sailors on the deck of a ship in the middle of a hurricane. Neither had wanted to get shit-faced in front of Joanna, but they’d definitely gotten a shade past buzzed. 

Hikaru squeezed Ben’s hand. Ben, too, had gotten slightly buzzed, and Hikaru would have to call himself a liar if he said he didn’t think that Ben was a cute drunk. Across the hall from their door, Nyota had an arm laced through Pavel’s elbow. They were both stone-cold sober. Pavel and Joanna had both looked incredibly serious and sad when they’d returned from their earlier forage for fast food, and Pavel had remained quiet for most of the rest of the evening. Joanna had latched onto her father and hadn’t let him out of her sight for longer than it took him to use the restroom.

Joanna looked up at all of them. She bit her lip. “Goodnight, boys,” she added, and Hikaru felt a sharp pang in his chest at the sudden, unbidden memory of Gaila bidding them goodnight in the exact same way. 

Jim looked down at his feet. Nyota swallowed hard, and Hikaru had to hold his breath against tears as Leonard picked Jo up. But Pavel’s face surprised him; he simply met Joanna’s eyes and gave her a sad smile. She gave him a sad smile back. “I remember that’s how she always said goodbye to y’all,” Joanna added quietly. She didn’t need to specify who she was talking about; they all knew. And for a brief moment, it was like Gaila was there with them in the hallway. Hikaru half-expected to hear her tell Pavel he’d make a cute Orion. He barked an inadvertent laugh that might have been a little bit of a sob, too.

“Da, she deed,” Pavel agreed with a fond, if somber, smile. And Hikaru realized that, while Pavel still looked sad, there was an air of peace around him that just hadn't been present since they'd returned from space. Hikaru briefly wondered at the change; what had he and Joanna talked about, while they were off getting food? Whatever it had been, it had done Pavel some good. Hikaru felt a swell of affection for Leonard's little girl.

Jim looked up at her, then knelt down and held his arms out to her; Leonard let her down, and she stumbled the short distance into Jim’s embrace. He didn’t try to pick her up–-a good idea, given his current state of sobriety–-but he hugged her tighter than Hikaru had ever seen him before. 

“Thank you, kiddo,” Hiakru heard him whisper. Ben sniffled next to Hikaru, louder than he probably meant to, and Hikaru squeezed his hand tightly. Scotty cleared his throat loudly and swiped a hand under his eyes.

“Aye, wait here,” Scotty said. “All of yeh sad bastards, yeh just–-wait right here.” He clumsily managed to get his door open and disappeared inside his room.

“Mister Scotty cussed.” Hikaru laughed as Joanna whispered the slightly scandalized observation to Jim. Jim laughed, too. 

“Don’t repeat it where your dad can hear,” Jim whispered back loudly. Leonard rolled his eyes.

“Don’t repeat it at all,” Leonard corrected dryly. “Jesus, Jim.” 

"Right. Yeah. You listen to your dad, Little Miss Joanna Banana. No cussing."

And Joanna straight-up channeled her father, rolling her eyes at Jim so hard that Hikaru was surprised they didn't get stuck in the back of her head. Nyota and Ben and Leonard burst out laughing. Hikaru couldn't help but snort, and even Pavel chuckled. 

Scotty reappeared, clutching the handle of a bottle of coconut rum and a stack of red recyclable cups. He handed each of them a cup and poured a finger of rum in each one, then recapped the bottle before rummaging in his pocket and pulling out a slightly-squashed but still-intact juice box, which he handed to Joanna with a flourish. She giggled as she poked the straw through the foil at the top.

“Aye, now–-a toast, then,” Scotty said, holding up his own cup. “To Gaila, whom I admittedly never met, but who was, by all accounts, a hell of a decent being and…and taken from the people who loved her, far too soon.” Scotty nodded decisively. “I think I would’ve liked her, verra verra much.”

Gaila and Scotty would have gotten along famously. Hikaru smiled faintly at the idea of it, then held up his cup. They all did, meeting each other’s eyes sadly. “To Gaila,” they all murmured.

“To Miss Gaila,” Joanna echoed, holding up her juice box solemnly. It made Hikaru smile. If we ever have a daughter, I hope she’s half as fun as Jo, he thought fondly, with a glance at Ben. Ben was already looking at him with a Look in his eye; Hikaru wasn’t prone to blushing, but he felt telltale heat rise up his neck. He could hear Gaila, in his mind, squealing in delight at the idea of him and Ben with a baby, of being fun Auntie Gaila. The idea of it made him smile through the sudden ache in his chest.

She was gone–-so many of their classmates were–-and it hurt like hell…but she was still with them, in a way. In their memories, and their thoughts, and in Jo’s words…and even though they still missed her like hell, it was a comforting thought.

The ones we love never truly leave us. A line from one of the movies they’d watched with Joanna last summer, one that had stuck with him all this time. The truth of it resonated through him as he looked up and met Pavel’s eye, then Nyota’s. 

They never truly leave us. It would have to be enough.

/*\/*\

Chapter Text

August, 2258

/*\

Stardate 215 .2258

Attn: Captain James T. Kirk: 

Per Admiral C. Pike: Order to report for duty aboard the Starship Enterprise, 0945 Stardate 230.2258.

Post: Chief Command Officer/ Chief Tactical Officer

Department: Tactical

Supervisor : Admiral J. Komack/Admiral C. Pike

Duration of mission: 720 solar days

Pre-mission briefing: Cochrane Hall, Starfleet Headquarters, 1500 Stardate 228.2258. Your presence at pre-mission briefing is required.

Shuttles to Starship Enterprise disembark 0800 Stardate 230.2258 from Port of San Francisco, California.

/*\

Stardate 215.2258

Attn: Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery C. Scott: 

Per Admiral C. Pike: Order to report for duty aboard the Starship Enterprise, 0945 Stardate 230.2258.

Post: Second Officer/Chief of Operations/Chief Engineer

Department: Operations

Supervisor: Captain J. Kirk

Duration of mission: 720 solar days

Pre-mission briefing: Cochrane Hall, Starfleet Headquarters, 1500 Stardate 228.2258. Your presence at pre-mission briefing is required. 

Shuttles to Starship Enterprise disembark 0800 Stardate 230.2258 from Port of San Francisco, California.

/*\

Stardate 215.2258

Attn: Lieutenant-Commander Leonard H. McCoy: 

Per Admiral C. Pike: Order to report for duty aboard the Starship Enterprise, 0945 Stardate 230.2258. 

Post: Chief Medical Officer

Department: Sciences/Medical

Supervisor: Pending 

Duration of mission: 720 solar days

Pre-mission briefing: Cochrane Hall, Starfleet Headquarters, 1500 Stardate 228.2258. Your presence at pre-mission briefing is required. 

Shuttles to Starship Enterprise disembark 0800 Stardate 230.2258 from Port of San Francisco, California.

/*\

Stardate 215.2258

Attn: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura: 

Per Admiral C. Pike: Order to report for duty aboard the Starship Enterprise, 0945 Stardate 230.2258. 

Post: Chief Communications Officer

Department: Operations

Supervisor: Lieutenant-Commander M. Scott

Duration of mission: 720 solar days

Pre-mission briefing: Cochrane Hall, Starfleet Headquarters, 1500 Stardate 228.2258. Your presence at pre-mission briefing is required. 

Shuttles to Starship Enterprise disembark 0800 Stardate 230.2258 from Port of San Francisco, California.

/*\

Stardate 215.2258

Attn: Lieutenant Salvatore Giotto: 

Per Admiral C. Pike: Order to report for duty aboard the Starship Enterprise, 0945 Stardate 230.2258. 

Post: Chief Security Officer

Department: Operations

Supervisor: Lieutenant-Commander M. Scott

Duration of mission: 720 solar days

Pre-mission briefing: Cochrane Hall, Starfleet Headquarters, 1500 Stardate 228.2258. Your presence at pre-mission briefing is required. 

Shuttles to Starship Enterprise disembark 0800 Stardate 230.2258 from Port of San Francisco, California.

/*\

Stardate 215.2258

Attn: Ensign Pavel A. Chekov: 

Per Admiral C. Pike: Order to report for duty aboard the Starship Enterprise, 0945 Stardate 230.2258.

Post: Chief Navigation Officer

Department: Tactical

Supervisor: Captain J. Kirk

Duration of mission: 720 solar days

Pre-mission briefing: Cochrane Hall, Starfleet Headquarters, 1500 Stardate 228.2258. Your presence at pre-mission briefing is required. 

Shuttles to Starship Enterprise disembark 0800 Stardate 230.2258 from Port of San Francisco, California.

/*\

Hikaru was startled out of a doze by a sudden chirping sound; he blinked himself back into awareness, as wisps of half-awake memories chased each other around before disappearing into his subconscious. For a long moment, he wasn't sure where he was, or what had woken him. But then Ben shifted in the bed next to him, his head heavy on Hikaru's shoulder and his arm slung low over Hikaru's abdomen. The weight of both was familiar and comforting. His grip on Hikaru tightened minutely as he, too, started to come out of his doze.

You're with Ben, he reassured himself. His bleary gaze focused on Ben's hand on his hip, on the gentle depressions his fingertips left in Hikaru's skin. You're at Ben's apartment. You're at Ben's apartment and you're in bed with him, and it feels like all is right with the world, just like it always does when you're with him.

His PADD chirped again, and the sound of it startled Ben fully awake. "'Karu?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep. They'd fallen asleep watching the holovision together in bed; it still droned on quietly in the background, and the soft light on Ben's nightstand was still on. It could have been 1900 or 0230 or next Tuesday, for all Hikaru knew; he felt that disconcerting disorientation that came from being woken suddenly. 

"My PADD," Hikaru replied. "I'm sorry. Hold on, don't go anywhere." He shifted out from under Ben's warm embrace and sat up, reaching for the PADD he'd left on the nightstand. It was blinking with an unread communique. He tapped it, then froze as it opened. He could only stare at it for a long moment; an odd, fluttering feeling started in his chest as he read: 

Stardate 215.2258

Attn: Lieutenant Hikaru S. Sulu: 

Per Admiral C. Pike: Order to report for duty aboard the Starship Enterprise, 0945 Stardate 230.2258.

Post: Chief of Aviation/Senior Helmsman

Department: Tactical

Supervisor: Captain J. Kirk

Duration of mission: 720 solar days

Pre-mission briefing: Cochrane Hall, Starfleet Headquarters, 1500 Stardate 228.2258. Your presence at pre-mission briefing is required. 

Shuttles to Starship Enterprise disembark 0800 Stardate 230.2258 from Port of San Francisco, California.

It was signed by Admiral Christopher Pike.

He felt his hands tighten around the PADD. “Hey—you okay? What's wrong?” Ben asked quietly. Hikaru just shook his head, trying to find an explanation for the sinking feeling in his stomach. Enterprise—Chief Helmsman. It was what he’d spent so many years working for. So now that he had it, why was he left with this sick twist of dread in his gut? He swallowed hard. He felt Ben sit up and shift over in the bed. A moment later, he rested his chin on Hikaru’s shoulder. “Can I see?”

Hikaru held the PADD out so Ben could read it. It was a short missive; Hikaru could tell when Ben was finished reading, by the length of the exhale he let out. Hikaru felt Ben’s chest deflate against his upper arm, the material of his shirt whisper-soft against Hikaru’s bicep. “Oh,” Ben whispered.

“Yeah,” Hikaru replied quietly. The silence in the room thickened between them. “A whole two weeks to get ready,” he finally added, dryly.

“And then you’ll be gone—for seven-hundred twenty days. Two years.”

“Just about.” Hikaru closed his eyes as his head started to spin. 

“That’s a long time,” Ben said evenly. Hikaru nodded. Two years in space—he’d hardly survived the battle with Nero. How the hell was he going to survive two years? And now you’re sounding like Leonard, he admonished himself. Even though, if Leonard had survived a free-fall off a drill platform over a planet while it was being actively sucked into a black hole, he would have probably crawled inside a bourbon bottle and never come out. “Are you okay?”

Hikaru opened his eyes with a start. “Yeah—just—processing,” he replied. He hated how stilted his voice sounded. Ben had a closed look on his face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Ben sighed and shook his head, sitting up and looking away. Hikaru was suddenly, terrifyingly certain that Ben was getting ready to break up with him. And why wouldn't he? Here, in Hikaru's hands, was proof that he'd never be able to be present in Ben's life, not in the way Ben deserved. He swallowed hard. “Ben?” he whispered. Ben’s shoulders slumped.

“I think I’ve just…gotten used to seeing so much of you,” Ben said quietly. Hikaru reached tentative fingertips to the soft skin on the back of Ben’s arm. Ben smiled sadly at the touch. “I’ve seen you every day since you got back. We’ve spent almost every night together. And to go back to the way it was before—to see even less of you than I did when you were at the academy—to not see you for two whole years…,” Ben trailed off. “I guess I’m just…disappointed.” He glanced at Hikaru, and then away again. 

It was on the tip of Hikaru’s tongue to tell Ben he was going to tell Starfleet to go screw themselves, even if he didn’t really mean it. In that moment, though, he felt the sentiment all the way to his bones. Ben glanced over again, a grimace on his face. “I mean, I'm disappointed you have to leave,” he hastened to add. “Don’t get me wrong. I am so proud of you. So fucking proud. You’ve--you've busted your ass to earn that posting, and you’ve been through so much—too much—to have been posted anywhere else, you deserve it—I just wish...I wish I could go with you. Or keep you here. I’m going to worry about you every day.” Ben exhaled deeply. “I’m really, really going to miss you, ‘Karu.” His voice was little more than a whisper.

Hikaru swallowed hard. “I’m really, really going to miss you, too. Way more than you’re going to miss me. You’ve still got your entire life here. I’m going to be stuck sharing a desk with Pavel for the next two years, probably.”

Ben chuckled softly. “Would you be able to share nicely with anyone else?” he asked with a small smile. Hikaru shrugged sheepishly and studied Ben’s face. His eyes were still downcast, his shoulders were slumped, and he was toying with a fraying thread on their—his—comforter. Not ours, Hikaru reminded himself. Ben’s. You’re in Ben’s apartment, in Ben’s bed—your bed is in your dorm back on campus, no matter how much it feels like this apartment—this man—is your home. 

He is your home. An idea came to mind that he'd been toying with since...well since their first date, to be honest. But you need to make sure you're both on the same page, or else it's not going to work out, he reminded himself. Scotty's advice had been solid, and Hikaru had been thinking about it a lot since their return from Clearwater. Hikaru sat up straighter. "So...I know we talked, about...about the whole deployment thing, and about us, and what we wanted for the future--is any of that different for you, now?"

Ben's eyes snapped to Hikaru. "What do you mean?"

"I mean--I mean, are we...is this," he gestured between them, "still what you want?"

Ben narrowed his eyes at Hikaru and drew back from him slightly. "How can you even ask me that? Did I do something to make you think that I'm not a hundred percent in on this relationship?"

"No!" Hikaru hastened to reply. "No, no--but I thought maybe, y'know, seeing it, in black and white--seeing that I'm not going to be around, that I'm not going to be the partner you deserve--," Hikaru broke off and shrugged. He couldn't keep looking at Ben, who was watching him with an intense look in his eyes.

"Hikaru."

"Hmm?" he still couldn't meet Ben's eyes. Didn't want to have to watch Ben try to spare his feelings as he ended things between them. 

"Hikaru. Look at me. Please?" Ben said, his voice quiet despite the intensity in it. Hikaru managed a sidelong look, and that was all Ben needed. He reached out and gently curled a finger under Hikaru's chin, turning his head so he could look Ben in the eye. "I love you. You are it for me. I want to be with you, however and whenever I can get you." He offered Hikaru a gentle smile. "I got involved with you knowing that there was going to be a day when you'd have to leave on deployment, and God, I'm going to miss you...but I went into this relationship with my eyes open, 'Karu, and nothing has changed for me. I want you. For the rest of our lives. I promise. And I'm sorry for whatever I've done that made you think otherwise."

Hikaru exhaled shakily and nodded. "But...if something has changed for you...?" Ben continued, a thread of tension in his voice now. Hikaru shook his head so quickly he felt his neck crack.

"No!" He grabbed Ben's hand and squeezed. "No. Nothing, I promise. I just don't want to be...I feel selfish. Asking you to wait around for me."

"You're not selfish, Hikaru. I still have free will and I can do what I please, whenever I feel like it. I could walk away if I wanted to. But I don't." Ben sighed. "I wish I could go with you, because I would in a heartbeat. I'd be content to follow you across the galaxy, because...because at the end of the day, I'd have you and the life we'd build together, and that's...God, Hikaru, that's everything." He shot Hikaru a wary look. "But seriously...if things have changed for you--if you're not sure that our relationship is still what you want--," Ben broke off, drawing back slightly from Hikaru with a shake of his head. "Don't stay with me because you don't want to hurt my feelings, Hikaru. I can take the deployments, the distance, all that...but I can't take you using either of those later on, as an excuse to draw away from us. Not when you had the chance to make a clean break now."

"Ben, no. God, no. I love you. I'd take you with me if I could. Shit, I could probably sneak you on--Jim won't care. Right? It'll just be--it'll be keeping in the grand Enterprise tradition of sneaking people on board," Hikaru added. Ben huffed a small laugh at the thought of it. Hikaru reached out and twined their fingers together on the comforter. "I want to come home to you, for the rest of our lives. I promise." Ben looked down and nodded; it was his turn to avoid Hikaru's eyes. “Ben,” he said quietly. Ben turned his face to Hikaru, his eyes slightly red and unbearably sad. Hikaru cupped his cheek with his free hand, then leaned forward to press a long, gentle kiss to his lips. Ben kissed him back, even as Hikaru could feel a few tears pooling where their lips met. Were they his or Ben's? He had no idea. But he thought back to the feeling of rightness he'd had earlier, wrapped up in Ben's arms. Home. He pulled away.

The argument could be made that they were on the same page. After all, they'd both used the words for the rest of my life. That seemed pretty fucking permanent to Hikaru. He inhaled deeply. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah? Does it involve me getting in one of your godforsaken shuttlecraft again?”

Hikaru shuddered inside at the idea of getting in a transport shuttle—and just what the hell is that about? He tucked that thought away to analyze later. “It might. But, no, we can do this right here in San Francisco. Hoverbus only.”

“Do what?”

Hikaru took a brief moment to consider that Ben might not agree to it. After all, two years was a long time, and even though they’d just talked about their intentions for their relationship, and even though Ben said he was in it for the long haul, no matter the deployments, he might change his mind after being left alone for years on end. He swallowed hard; his heart jackhammered in his chest.

And in that brief moment, Hikaru told his doubts and anxieties to go fuck themselves. “Let’s get married."

Ben inhaled sharply and just stared at Hikaru for a long moment, before nodding slowly. "When?"

"Now. Like...like, right now. I don't even know what time it is, but--let's go find Jim and file the paperwork and just--be married. Before I ship out," Hikaru replied. Ben was breathing in and out slowly. His fingers tightened on Hikaru's. “I…I mean, we love each other," Hikaru added. "I'm coming home to you either way, but I don’t want to wait until this mission is over. I mean, if something happened to me, or if something happened to you here—I would regret not asking if—at least, asking, right?—I’d regret it if we hadn’t at least talked about it.” He swallowed hard.

Ben bit his lip and studied Hikaru with an intense look on his face as a small, crooked smile stretched to one cheek. 

/*\

Ben sighed contentedly, later that night, as Hikaru slept on silently next to him in their bed. A warm sense of affection spread through his chest. It about as perfect an end as Ben could have imagined to the night he and Hikaru got married--together, in bed, watching his husband as he finally slept deeply. In sleep, Hikaru's face was relaxed in a way it usually wasn't anymore, not when he was awake, not after everything he'd seen and experienced over Vulcan.

Ben watched his chest rise and fall slowly, evenly, a few times, before letting his eyes trace Hikaru's peaceful profile as the climate controls hummed quietly in the background and ambient noise from the city outside their window kept their room from becoming too quiet. 

Ben fingered the gold band around his ring finger, becoming accustomed to the welcome but still-unfamiliar feel of it. He'd only been wearing it for a few hours, but the weight of it was comforting; he wondered how long it would take before, instead of noticing it’s weight, he noticed it’s absence. Not gonna find out, he decided. Not gonna take it off. He smiled to himself. His parents and Yoshi were going to flip when they found out, and Hikaru’s parents probably were, too. And they probably should have told their families, but in honesty, Ben hadn't wanted to hear any of them try to convince him and Hikaru to wait and have the whole big ceremony and reception with all the exhausting frills that went with it. It was their life, their relationship. He loved their families, and their families loved them, but their small, impulsive ceremony with just their friends had been perfect.

Jim had been beside himself with excitement to perform the ceremony, his first as Captain. He had beamed like a fool the entire time he officiated, even when his eyes clouded up with tears and he had to pause to clear the emotion from his throat. Pavel and Nyota had held hands tightly the entire time, and they both started crying happy tears before the ceremony even began. Ben couldn't judge, because he'd gotten teary, too. At least they were all crying from happiness this time, he figured, instead of stress and grief.

Leonard and Scotty, both grinning, and Ben’s friend Lionna from the pub, had rounded out their intimate wedding party. After the ceremony, Jim and Scotty had insisted that, since there was no reception, they all go out for dinner; somehow, they wound up at a Waffle House, eating the best waffles Ben had had in a long time.

He smiled fondly and shook his head softly to himself. He’d gone from boyfriend to fiancé to husband in a matter of mere hours, surrounded by the people who were going to be watching his husband’s back for the next two years. It had been everything he could have asked for, even if his head was slightly swimming at the speed of it. 

His heart jumped as Hikaru let out a tiny cry; he twitched, once, a pained look crossing his face, barely visible in the dim city light from the night outside that filtered weakly through their blinds. Ben turned on his side and shifted closer to him; he found Hikaru’s hand, found the matching gold ring on his finger, and squeezed gently.

Hikaru awoke with a start, inhaling sharply. He curled his fingers around Ben’s almost reflexively, tightening them as he struggled to bring himself fully out of the nightmare. Their wedding bands clinked together.

“It’s okay,” Ben whispered, gently running his thumb over the back of Hikaru's hand, their other fingers still tightly wrapped around each other. “You’re safe, you’re fine, you’re here with me,” he added. Hikaru was gasping for breath. Ben brought Hikaru's hand to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm, before pressing it to his cheek. Hikaru's fingers curved slightly into Ben's skin as he turned his head to meet Ben's eyes.

“I’m safe, I’m fine,” he repeated back in a hoarse whisper. His breath slowed slightly. He cleared his throat. “I’m here—with you.” He blinked slowly and inhaled deeply. “I’m here with you—and we got married,” he added softly, a small smile crossing his handsome face despite the slight tone of wonder in his voice. Ben grinned and shifted closer so he could rest his chin on Hikaru’s chest. Hikaru raised his free hand and carded his fingers gently through Ben's hair.

“We got married,” Ben echoed. "Regrets?"

"Only that we waited so long," Hikaru replied. "You?"

Ben smiled again. "Are you kiddding? I would have married you after our first date." He leaned up and pressed a warm kiss to Hikaru's lips. "I know our families wanted the whole big wedding thing, but...I'm glad we did it the way we wanted." 

“Me, too," Hikaru agreed. "Our marriage, our relationship, our--well, your place. Your bed.”

“No.” Ben leaned forward and kissed him again. “Our place. Our bed. Got it?”

"Ours." Hikaru smiled and reached out a hand to brush his fingers against Ben’s cheek. “I love you, kokoro.”

“I love you, too, kokoro. So much.”

/*\

Two weeks later

Gaila had loved rainstorms. The violent ones with thunder so close it shook the windows, lightning near enough to make her hair stand on end—she’d adored them. And as Nyota sat, now, in the lobby of Cochrane Hall with Jim and Leonard, Hikaru, Pavel, Salvatore Giotto, and Scotty, and watched the torrent of rain falling outside, it was hard not to think about her. Better Gaila than that epic shitstorm of a briefing you all just sat through, she thought with a hard swallow. She fought back the urge to giggle hysterically at the weight of the duties they all now shouldered. 

Nyota sighed and looked down at her feet, then glanced to her left. On the long bench next to her, Pavel had his eyes closed and was tearing the skin of his cuticles apart. She gently closed her hand over his fists and his fingers stilled. Hikaru was shaking his head slowly from time to time, his eyes darting to and fro as he blinked rapidly. Scotty looked solemn and serious, was chewing his lip as he stared straight ahead without seeing much, she guessed.

To her right, Jim was breathing deeply through his nose and blinking slowly, his shoulders so tense they were practically touching his ears. His hands were clenched into fists in his lap; she reached her other hand over and settled it over his fists. He glanced at her and met her eyes quickly with a rueful smile. His shoulders relaxed slightly.

Aside from the normal pressure of shipping out, the pressure from Komack and Pike to select a first officer was mounting on Jim's shoulders, too; Admiral Komack had gone out of his way to repeatedly point out how many of Jim's duties would be best given to a first officer. Jim had simply responded with a short, solicitous "yes, sir," to each pointed remark. Nyota was actually kind of proud of him for keeping his temper.

He’d privately confided to her that he was hoping Spock would change his mind and join them. Nyota wasn’t holding her breath. Yes, Spock would have been a wonderful first officer for Jim. But Spock all but dropped off their radar. Her heart ached, just a little, as she thought back to the day when Spock had found her dozing in the park. When we’re both on the Enterprise, she’d told him, I’d like to pick up our friendship again. And then—not the first night, not the second night, but the third night after they’d beat Nero, when the ship was wobbling unsteadily back to Earth, and she and Spock finally had some downtime at the same time…it had been intense and grief-stricken and passionate and something raw inside her had been soothed by it. 

And the next day, he’d started to pull away from her again. Grief was a tempestuous thing, she knew, but it still stung. Shows how much he really valued your friendship, she thought bitterly. A moment later, she chastised herself. He lost everything. He’s allowed to focus on what’s best for him. Don’t be selfish. He was suffering. She knew it. How could she be angry with him for trying to cope? She sighed and glanced back down their bench as the rain slowed outside.

Leonard was glancing at Jim anxiously; if he focused on Jim, she knew, then he wouldn't have to focus on the number of casualties Admiral Komack considered within the 'acceptable' margin for their upcoming mission. 

She'd never seen Leonard come so close to going completely nuclear as he had when Komack had baldly, unemotionally, stated the number.

Yes, she'd heard Leonard yell at a ranking officer before. He was a doctor first, himself second, and a Starfleet officer third, and they all knew that he didn't give a single, solitary fuck about the hierarchy of rank. But she'd never heard him snarl at anyone the way he'd snarled at Komack: "there is no acceptable number of casualties, you pompous--,"  and at an alarmed look from Pike, Hikaru and Scotty had each grabbed one of Leonard's arms and escorted him from the briefing room. The three of them returned a few minutes later, even though Leonard had still looked apoplectic. He had stewed silently throughout the rest of the briefing. 

Nyota wondered if Komack knew just how close he'd come to being completely annihilated. She understood Leonard's anger, even as the intensity of it shook her a bit. Leonard was always anxious, was always grumpy, and had rightfully given all of them the what-for at some point in the past few years. But she'd never seen him so angry. He was calmer now; the idea of looking after Jim, of looking after all of them, gave him something productive to focus his energy on.

Sal sat at the end of their bench, his face blank and slightly ashen. His posture looked tightly wound, as though he was trying hard to control himself. Komack's preface to the number of acceptable casualties had been to list exactly what percentage of those casualties were expected to be from the security ranks. And while Leonard had lashed out in his anger, Sal had internalized his. He'd blinked at the number, had met Komack's eyes unflinchingly and stared the man down until Komack had had the nerve to ask if Sal had a problem. Sal had bit his lip hard before returning with a curt "no, sir." But Nyota had a feeling that, if Leonard had attempted to throttle Komack, Sal would have helped. Enthusiastically.  

God. This was their life, now. They were set to leave the day after next. Enterprise was ready. They’d all been briefed. And Nyota wanted to just curl up in a ball and cry.

Hikaru stood suddenly, the movement so unexpected that they all looked up at him. He twisted his wedding band around his finger anxiously. “My brain is sixty seconds away from exploding," he stated matter-of-factly. "We’ve got to get the fuck out of here. Come on. Let’s go shut down Witcher’s. Ben's cooking tonight, and Lionna's behind the bar.”

Pavel glanced at Scotty, who nodded in agreement. “Aye, Hikaru’s right. We cannae stay here forever, and we need to put some distance between us and all this stress,” he said, standing next to Hikaru. “Trust me. Pre-mission briefings are always best followed by a good meal and a pint or two. Or ten.”

Pavel snickered, even though the laugh didn’t reach his eyes, and stood. Jim and Leonard followed. Giotto stood uncertainly.

“I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow, then,” he said. Jim shook his head.

“Aw, come on, Cupcake. Come have a drink with us,” he said, clapping Giotto on the shoulder. Sal shook his head with a wry smile. Nyota smiled faintly; my, how far those two had come from beating the shit out of each other in a little bar in the middle of Iowa.

“Yes, sir,” he replied dryly. 

“Nyota?” Leonard asked when she made no move to stand. “You comin'?”

She still had to clear her and Gaila's belongings out of the dorm. She’d been putting it off, but tonight was really the last night she’d have to do it. She sighed.

“I can’t,” she murmured quietly. “Thanks, but I’m just going to go back to my dorm.” She stood and straightened her uniform.

Pavel raised a knowing eyebrow at her. “I weel come weeth you,” he offered. 

Seeing as she'd dragged him with her every time she went, he knew exactly how many times she'd been back to her dorm since losing Gaila, and it wasn't a big number. He was still struggling, she knew, but something had shifted in him ever since their trip to Clearwater. He'd been sleeping more normal-ish hours, and he seemed more at peace when he was awake. Still sad and fragile, but there was a determined air about him that Nyota hadn't even realized she missed, until it was back. That he'd felt up to offering her his support now, was heartening. All the same, she shook her head. 

“Thanks, Pasha, but no. I’ll be fine.” She tried to smile. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“You sure you don't want any of us to come with you?” Hikaru asked suspiciously, studying her carefully. She nodded.

“We’re all going to be under each other’s feet for the next two years,” she replied. “Trust me. I’ll be fine on my own for a bit tonight. Go on, boys,” she added when they showed no sign of moving. “I’ll see you on the bridge tomorrow morning for final checks. 0900.”

Jim moved first; he clapped her shoulder affectionately. Leonard gave her a quick hug and kiss to the cheek. Scotty squeezed her hand, Pavel hugged her tightly, and Hikaru pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Sal waved—awkwardly, poor guy, they really needed to get him out and about with them more—and they set off out the doors.

She watched them go, a wave of affection rolling over her as they strode off into the ever-slowing rain. Jim was talking to Giotto as Leonard offered his two cents; Hikaru and Pavel had heads bent together as Scotty pulled out his communicator. 

Good men, she reflected with a smile. Even Jim. 

Sometimes.

/*\

The unsettling, eerie silence of her dorm building was setting her teeth on edge. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she strode quickly through the lobby to the lifts, not wanting to turn and look at anything; she had the sudden, really creepy feeling that, if she turned her head left or right, she'd see ghosts. 

Because the building felt...heavy. The air felt weighed down. Haunted, she let herself think, in a little, unamusing flight of fancy. By the ghosts of memories, of promises, and of the what-could-have-beens. By regrets and laughter and the lack of life that had once echoed through the corridors. The emptiness, the silence...it felt suffocating.

She fought back the upswell of choking grief as best she could as the lift opened on her floor. Her bootsteps echoed through the corridor outside her room. Best get this over with, she said. Not so you can forget Gaila—you’ll never be able to forget her—but so you can take her memory on to new places with you. She probably should have asked Jim if he wanted to help. If I find something I think he’ll want, then I’ll comm him, she decided as the door to her dorm slid open.

Her breath caught in her chest. She'd been back a handful of times, to get clean clothes and stuff, and all those times, she'd had Pavel, and maybe Hikaru or Scotty, with her. But otherwise, she'd avoided the room like the plague, and she hadn't been back by herself. 

It was frozen in time, just as they'd left it the morning before the attack on Vulcan. Nyota's side was tidy, and Gaila's side looked like her armoire had exploded. Her belongings were scattered all over her side of the room. And before Gaila's death, the mess had driven Nyota nuts. Now, though? Now, it was a reminder of the vivacious, lighthearted, brilliant woman her best friend--the sister of her heart--had been. A harsh sob escaped Nyota's throat; she swallowed hard and had to force herself to step into the room.

The academy had delivered storage containers to the dorm rooms of cadets who'd died, and to the rooms of the Enterprise's new crew, and they sat to the side of the door. She studied them blankly for a long moment. Then she looked around at everything; her belongings were going to be shipped to the Enterprise. Gaila's would be donated to local shelters.

The room would be empty by this time the next day. The idea of...of erasing the lives she and Gaila had lived in this room...it felt like it might break her heart.

Nyota closed her eyes against her tears, willing them not to fall. I am so sick of crying, she thought. And I only just got here. She sighed deeply and moved to her side of the room. She'd start with her belongings; she didn't have much, and she didn't think she was ready to pack up Gaila's things just yet. Ease into it, girl, she encouraged herself.

It took about an hour for Nyota to pack up all of her belongings and drag the containers into the corridor. In the morning, the academy would take care of transporting them onto the ship. And she felt a sense of accomplishment at getting her things taken care of, but the feeling of dread in her gut reminded her that she'd saved the worst task for last. She studied Gaila's belongings for a long moment, not sure where to start. 

Piles, she thought. Make piles on your bed. Things you want to keep, things Kirk might want to keep. Things to donate. Things the academy wants back. She nodded to herself and picked up the nearest thing to her--one of Gaila's favorite going-out dresses. Not Nyota's size, but she found she couldn't part with it. She put it in the pile of things she wanted to keep. 

After a half hour or so, all the piles began to take shape, and she turned her attention to Gaila's jewelry box. She opened it carefully, and on top of everything was a bracelet Gaila had worn every time she wore something other than her uniform—or when she’d worn nothing else at all. It wasn’t anything flashy or expensive, but it was pretty and she’d loved it.

Jim had given it to her.

She held her breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and when she felt like she could talk without crying, she pulled out her communicator. “Uhura to Kirk.”

“Nyota!” he replied cheerfully. He sounded happily buzzed. “What’s up? You comin’ to join us yet?”

“Um, no, not yet. I’m still pretty busy.”

“Right. Doing what? What could possibly be more important than teambuilding with your favorite crewmates?”

“I’m—I’m clearing out my things. And--and Gaila’s things,” she replied. His silence was immediate and absolute, and she suddenly felt bad for stating it so baldly. “I’m sorry, Kirk. Jim. I didn't mean to be insensitive...I should have told you earlier that was my plan for tonight. But the reason I called—um, I found a bracelet you gave her in her jewelry box. I thought you might...y'know. I thought you might want it back." She bit her lip. "Sentimental value, maybe.”

“Right.” Jim didn’t sound so cheerful anymore. “I—yeah. Yeah, that would be great, Nyota. Thank you. Thanks—for thinking of it."

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. No problem. Sorry to drag you down—I’ll set aside anything else I think you might want. You can come look at it tomorrow morning, maybe? Before we're due on duty? They're not moving any of the storage containers until around noon.”

“Yeah. Yeah, actually--I might stop by tonight, if that’s okay? When we’re done here?”

“Sure,” she replied. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later, Nyota. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Jim.” She disconnected and studied the bracelet again, then set it gently on her bed, breathing deeply and slowly to try to keep her composure.

Breathe, girl.

/*\

Witcher's was bustling with activity. Servers and staff scurried around doing their jobs, and patrons were up and down to the bar, or the bathrooms, or to other tables to greet people they knew. Hell, most of Scotty's group was elsewhere;  Ben's dinner break coincided with their visit, so Scotty'd seen neither hide nor hair of Hikaru for the past twenty minutes. Leonard was waiting at the bar for another round of drinks. Pavel was waiting with Leonard, something Lionna was pretending not to notice since the wee lad weren't quite of the age of majority yet, and Sal had excused himself to use the bathroom. So when Jim's comm pinged with an incoming transmission, Scotty couldn't help but overhear every word of the conversation.

"Nyota!" He exclaimed. He perked up like a little dog. Scotty snorted. Kirk had no interest in pursuing Nyota, he knew that. But the lad was an incorrigible flirt. "What's up? You comin' to join us, yet?"

"Um, no, not yet. I'm still pretty busy," she replied. There was something off about her tone of voice that made Scotty put down his pint. Jim, being happily in his cups, didn't notice the tone.

"Right. Doing what? What could possibly be more important than teambuilding with your favorite crewmates?" he teased. There was a heavy beat between his question and her response. 

“I’m—I’m clearing out my things. And--and Gaila’s things.”

Jim went very, very still, the cheerful smile on his face vanishing. Scotty let out a long exhale at the shuttered look that crossed his face. “I’m sorry, Kirk. Jim. I didn't mean to be insensitive...I should have told you earlier that was my plan for tonight," she added apologetically. "But the reason I called—um, I found a bracelet you gave her in her jewelry box. I thought you might...y'know. I thought you might want it back." She paused. "Sentimental value, maybe.”

Scotty's heart ached for them. He had, privately and perhaps not entirely legally, looked up everything he could find about Gaila Nichols. She'd lived on Terra for a few years before joining Starfleet; before that, her life on Orion sounded like it had been, frankly, hell: she'd survived sentient-being trafficking and life in a brutal slave-labor camp (which, reading between the lines, had been of the sexual assault variety, and he'd wondered if Jim or Nyota even knew) before being liberated by Starfleet and resettling with a foster family on Earth.

She'd been one of the academy's first Orion recruits, settling comfortably into the computer programming division after an understandable period of adjusting to academy life. She was involved in programming training simulations, was considered an excellent tutor within the program, with an impressive amount of commendations. She'd been listed as Lieutenant Nichols on the manifest for the Farragut.

Clearly, she'd been one of the department's best and brightest. And despite the horrifying things she'd experienced, the way her friends lit up when talking about her told Scotty that, aside from being very keen, she'd also had a truly lovely soul.

He'd also noted that, at the start of her first year in the academy, she'd listed Cadet Nyota Uhura as her primary emergency contact. And then, about a year and a half later, she'd added Cadet James T. Kirk. Her primary physician at the academy clinic was Doctor Leonard McCoy. Her friends, Scotty realized, had been all she had. 

That Scotty also had access to all of his new friends' information, as well, was a matter of course. As second officer, he was privy to all kinds of crew information that wasn't readily available to anyone else except Jim and Len: such as, that Nyota's only emergency contact had been Cadet Gaila Nichols. Nobody else, not Len or Hikaru or any other family members.

Upon realizing that Nyota had literally nobody but him and her friends, either, Scotty had quietly added himself to her emergency contact list. And then, after a long moment of contemplation and a few quick comms, he'd added Ben and Hikaru, then Pavel. And then, to be as thorough as possible, he'd added Leonard and Jim. He was still wondering just how the hell to tell her he'd gone and been very presumptuous in adding all of them, after nosing around in her personal information, even though he'd had the best of intentions. 

He was absolutely not surprised that Nyota had decided to go through her dead best friend's belongings all by her lonesome, without telling any of them what she was up to. The lass was used to being on her own, was used to being strong and taking care of others. Scotty wondered how long it had been since someone had been strong for her. He had a feeling it had been a very, very long time.

Jim cleared his throat and looked down at the table. “Right,” he replied quietly. “I—yeah. Yeah, that would be great, Nyota. Thank you. Thanks—for thinking of it."

Nyota cleared her throat roughly. “Yeah. No problem. Sorry to drag you down—I’ll set aside anything else I think you might want. You can come look at it tomorrow morning, maybe? Before we're due on duty? They're not moving any of the storage containers until around noon.”

Jim nodded, his eyes still on the table. So I won't see his grief, Scotty realized. He pressed his lips together. “Yeah. Yeah, actually--I might stop by tonight, if that’s okay? When we’re done here?” Jim finally raised his eyes and met Scotty's. Scotty nodded in agreement and offered a supportive half-smile.

“Sure,” she replied. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later, Nyota," Jim said. "Thanks again.” 

“No problem, Jim.” And she ended the comm quickly.

Jim closed his communicator and set it on the table in front of him carefully, precisely, before exhaling violently and scrubbing a rough hand down his face. "God damn it," he sighed.

"She shouldn't be goin' through that alone, Jim," Scotty replied quietly, "especially after sitting through that clusterfuck of a briefing." Jim swallowed hard and nodded.

"She's so fucking stubborn. If she'd told us that's what she was doing, we would have been there with her instead of sitting here getting shitfaced."

"That's her, though, innit? Taking the world's burdens on her shoulders, not sharing any of it with anyone?" Scotty pointed out. He shook his head. "She's been strong for all of us, ever since we got back. Tell me that yeh've noticed, Jim. That yeh've noticed her struggling, too, even as she held the lot of yeh together like a piece of duct tape."

Jim's shoulders wilted. "I...I mean, I noticed her grief. I knew she was missing Gaila. We all are. And I knew she and Pavel were looking after each other...but...but I guess I didn't really notice, no," he replied quietly.  "Some fucking captain I'm going to be. I should have noticed. I should have been there for her." There was a bitter note of self-reproach in his voice.

"Lad, yeh saw what she wanted yeh to see," Scotty replied. "Aye, we should have all done more for her. But we've all also been drowning in--in duties and responsibilities, in grief--and she doesn't resent a single one of us. Not a bit." He shook his head. "Honestly, Jim, I don't think she'd know what to do if someone tried to take care of her, for a change."

"So I need to do something about that," Jim replied decisively. He sat up straighter. "Starting with getting the hell over there and helping her. You're right, she shouldn't have to do that alone."

"Aye, but...it's goin' to take us at least an hour to get over there," Scotty pointed out. "Between taking leave of our merry little band of kittens, and setting our tabs, and getting a transport across town--I'm thinking that we need someone who's still on campus to look in on her before we get there." A candidate crossed his mind.

"Look in on who? What's going on?" Leonard and Pavel set pints of beer on the table before sitting back down.

"Nyota is cleaning out her and Gaila's dorm," Jim replied. Pavel blanched. "And she sounds completely wrecked. So I'm going to go help her."

"We are goin' t'go help her," Scotty corrected. A ghost of a smile crossed Jim's face.

"We are going to help her," he agreed. "But it's going to take awhile to get over there. So Scotty was asking if there was anyone on campus who'd be able to look in on her while we're in transport."

"Aye, and I think I've an idea." Scotty met Jim's eye as Hikaru returned and straddled his chair.

"An idea for what?" he asked warily. 

"Helping Nyota clean out her and Gaila's stuff," Leonard replied. Hikaru's shoulders tightened.

"That's what she's doing right now?" He asked. He scowled. "Alone?" 

"Commander Spock," Scotty interjected quickly, before Hikaru could get going. Jim full-out grinned.

"Commander Spock," he agreed. "Great idea, Scotty. I'll comm him. Can you settle our tabs?" he pulled out his credit chip and handed it to Scotty as they both stood.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute--why the hell would you comm Commander Spock, of all beings, to go be Nyota's Emotional Support Vulcan?" Leonard asked. Jim tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a grin.

"Well...let's just say that the two of them were engaged in a very...a very enthusiastic goodbye, in the transporter room, before Spock and I beamed over to the Narada to rescue Pike," Jim replied diplomatically, with a cheeky wink. Leonard's mouth dropped open.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Her and the hobgoblin? No fucking way."

Jim rolled his eyes as he hailed the commander. "Don't call him hobgoblin, Bones." he replied. "Kirk to Commander Spock."

"Spock here, Captain."

"Hey, Spock--listen, don't disconnect. I'm not going to nag you about the whole first officer thing again, I promise. It's about Nyota. We need your help."

Spock was quiet for a long moment. "Indeed, Captain. How may I assist? Is the Lieutenant injured? Ill?"

"Heartsick, maybe," Jim replied. He met Scotty's eyes across the table. Scotty gestured for the comm.

"Aye, hullo, there, Commander. It's Scott, here," he said, taking the comm from Jim. "Yer wee lass is attempting to sort through her roommates belongings, to clear out their dorm, all by herself. I dunno if yer aware, but her roommate were killed--"

"On board the Farragut. I am indeed aware, Mister Scott."

"Right. Well, it's a verra difficult thing, to go through the belongings of a being yeh loved deeply, and Jim and I are goin' to be on our way to help her in just a mo'--but we're likely an hour away, and she has spent the past three months being a fucking...a pillar of strength for all the rest of us, and she really needs someone to be with her now, so we were wonderin' if yeh might be able to go check in on her, keep her company until we arrive. If yer on campus, that is, and not busy with other stuff." Scotty shrugged at Jim. Jim nodded back encouragingly.

"I am indeed on campus, Mister Scott. I am en route to her dormitory now."

"Och, aye? That was quick," Scotty replied, surprised. 

"Procrastination is not logical, Mister Scott." 

Leonard rolled his eyes as Jim snorted a laugh. Scotty smiled. "Fair enough, sir." 

"Our tabs are all settled," Hikaru said, returning to the table as he slid his wallet back into his pocket. Scotty hadn't even seen him leave. "Ben said to comm him if she needs anything. And Sal caught me about ten minutes ago, said he wasn't feeling well and was heading out."

"I hev contacted a taxi," Pavel said, "and eet weel be here momentarily. That should be getting us back to campus much quicker than the hoverbus."

"Alright. So, let's get going," Leonard said, draining the last of his pint. Scotty grinned. Aye, the lads worked quickly; Hikaru was like a fucking ninja, sneaking off to settle their tabs like he had, and Pavel hadn't hesitated to contact the taxi he'd engaged. And damn if Leonard couldn't down a pint like a champ.

"Wait--you guys are all coming, too?" Jim asked.

Leonard rolled his eyes again. "I'm not even gonna dignify that with a response," he muttered. "You hear that, Commander? We're on our way," he added loudly.

"Indeed, Doctor. I am outside her dormitory room now. She is not responding."

"Keep trying, Commander," Scotty advised. "We'll stay on the line with yeh until yeh make contact." He thought back to just how alone Nyota had seemed, sometimes, in the past three months. "Don't yeh give up on her, sir."

/*\ 

Don't you give up on her, sir.

Scott's admonition sat heavily on Spock's shoulders. You may not have given up on her, but you did give her up without consulting with her, he scolded himself. And if you had been a better Vulcan--a better human--you would not have left her to founder alone these past months, when you were aware of the depths of her sorrow. The least you can do now is ensure she is physically well, and offer her your support until her friends arrive.

Which he would do, if she ever opened her door. She has every right to not want to see you, he told himself. You failed to treat her with the respect she deserves. But the fact remained, that with every passing moment of no response from her side of the door, he felt anxiety well up in him. What if she was truly ill? Injured? He swallowed hard.

She had no way of knowing how much he'd missed her, these past three months. Had no way of knowing how many times he had begun to hail her, only to lose his nerve. He had drawn away from her after their brief interlude on the ship, not because he did not care for her, but because how he felt for her...the intensity of it was overwhelming. So he had drawn away from her, because she deserved more than an attachment forged out of grief.

She deserved more than he would be able to give her, and he had long known it. That she had suffered the past three months as Scott said, without someone to support her, caused an uncomfortable twist of guilt in his gut that he didn't try to suppress. She deserved better than how you have treated her.

By the time he had realized that his attachment to her was not simply due to shared grief, over a month had passed and he was unsure how to approach her. So he hadn't. He had procrastinated, despite his earlier words to Mister Scott. Because she deserved better of him. So be the being she deserves, he told himself. You cannot go back in time, but you can influence the future. Support her however she needs. Start now, in whatever capacity she will have you. 

Or even if she won't.

/*\

She set her comm back on Gaila's desk as she turned back to the jewelry box. There was still quite a bit left, and Nyota took a moment to watch the overhead lights catch in the planes of the gemstones. She'd always been drawn to shiny things, Nyota thought fondly. Hence her attraction to Kirk. She smirked faintly to herself.

Most of the remaining jewelry was stuff Gaila had only worn once or twice, and most of it was nothing she had been particularly attached to; but there, twined together near the bottom, were a pair of dangly silver earrings that she had loved and had loaned to Nyota on more than one occasion. Breathe, girl. She scooped the earrings out of the box and set them next to the bracelet. A few tears dripped down her cheeks.

Breathe. The tears came faster as she finished the jewelry box and turned to Gaila's desk. Her personal PADD and some correspondence with distant relatives back on Orion joined the pile to keep shortly thereafter. And Nyota started sobbing.

Breathe. She finished the desk and realized that she was running out of space on her bed, so she started boxing up the items the academy needed back, then started with the pile of things to donate; but at that point, the idea of giving Gaila's things away became so overwhelming that she gave up on doing anything and simply sank to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked herself slightly, on the floor in between her bed and Gaila’s, as she gasped for breath and choked out sobs.

A soft knock on her door startled her, echoing through the otherwise silent room. She swallowed hard, then decided to ignore it; if it was Jim, he’d call her to let him in. Anyone else could just go to hell. 

Another knock, this time followed by an unexpectedly familiar, uncharacteristically subdued voice through the door: “Nyota?”

The shock of it was enough to make her bite back her tears. What the hell is he doing here? She wondered. She shook her head. He hadn't sought her out at all in the past three months. And he'd chosen now to try to talk to her? It was too much. She made no move to the door. “Nyota, I have been made aware of your presence inside your dormitory room. If you do not respond, I will be forced to override the lock and enter to ensure your safety.”

She was in no mood for his Vulcan bullshit. She mentally dared him to do it, knowing that he would never violate her privacy that way unless he was certain she were in immediate danger. She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. “Nyota...please.” His entreaty was gentler, now. “I am--we are worried about you.”

"'We'?" she whispered to herself. She shook her head and sighed. The boys knew she was safe. Who else would possibly be worried about her? She didn't have anyone except them. Not anymore. 

"Nyota? Please."

She groaned and struggled to her feet. Her face felt puffy and sticky, and head was starting to pound at her temples. She tripped to the door and disengaged the lock.

And there he stood, in a dark gray, long-sleeved Vulcan tunic and black pants. His face was pale and thin, more wan than she remembered it being, but his eyes were still dark and appraising as he studied her. Something softened in them as he took in her puffy eyes. At first glance, he was alone; a second glance revealed an open communicator in his hand. “Aye, and has she answered yeh yet, Commander?” Scotty’s tinny, concerned voice echoed out of it. Spock raised an eyebrow at her. 

“I’m here, Scotty. And I’m fine,” she said. 

“You cut that horse shit out right now, Nyota, we know you're not,” Leonard snapped. “Commander, does she look like she’s doing ‘fine’? ”

Spock studied her carefully for another long moment before responding. “She does not, Doctor.” Nyota huffed, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“She ees lying, Meester Spock.”

“Goddamn it, Pavel, Занимайтесь своим делом!” Nyota snapped. 

“And she gets defensive when she knows we’ve caught her in her bullshit,” Hikaru added fondly. Nyota just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Thank you for checking on her, Commander Spock. We appreciate it. We’ll leave you to it,” Jim piped up firmly. Nyota raised her eyebrows in surprise. Since when was Jim the one telling people to mind their own damn business?

“Indeed. Thank you, Captain.”

“Yeah, thanks very much, Captain,” she added sarcastically.

“…what the hell is this shit? I’m the one calling off the hyenas, for once!”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she replied. “All of you except Jim and Sal can go butt into someone else’s business, you fucking busybodies!”

And those assholes had the nerve to laugh at her. Their laughter rankled a bit and did nothing for her temper, or her headache. She rolled her eyes and snatched the communicator from Spock’s hand, shutting it with a decisive snap. She stuffed it back into his hands, met his eyes, then turned on her heel and stormed back into her room.

Where Gaila’s stuff was still spread everywhere. She stopped in the middle of the room, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her headache was only getting worse, and she still had a lot of stuff to go through. Breathe, girl. In and out. The boys meant well, and that Spock is even here...even just as a friend, that's more than you had yesterday. Breathe.

“Captain Kirk and Lieutenant-Commander Scott contacted me,” Spock said quietly from behind her, before the silence between them grew too awkward. “They said you were packing up Cadet Nichols' belongings.”

Busybodies, she thought again. "And?"

“They said they thought you might need someone here with you. Lieutenant-Commander Scott believes that you have spent the past three months taking care of everyone else’s emotional needs, to the detriment of your own.” Spock paused. Nyota pursed her lips and turned to face him.

“And you’re here because…?” He showed no outward sign of discomfort on his face, but his shoulders tightened imperceptibly.

“Because I have been a very poor friend,” he replied frankly. “I have duties and obligations to my species, yes. But in attempting to fulfill my obligations towards Vulcan, I have ignored the fact that I am as much Human as I am Vulcan. I have been remiss in tending to the relationships I have cultivated among my human peers.” He glanced away. Duties and obligations. Right. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

“Ah. Yes, well…duty fulfilled. You checked on me and I’m alive and—well, not well, but alive and kicking. You can go check on whatever other relationships you’ve cultivated, go back to helping Vulcan.” God, when had she become so bitter? She didn’t begrudge Spock helping the Vulcan survivors. How could she? Her shoulders slumped. “God. I’m so sorry, Spock.” She sighed and shook her head. “That was completely uncalled for. I understand why...I understand. We didn't promise each other anything, you didn't owe me anything--I don't know what got into me." She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her abdomen. "I’m so sorry, Spock.”

“Nyota, I…,” Spock trailed off. “You have nothing for which to apologize. I have been neglecting you, and that is unacceptable. You gave me a chance to vent the emotions with which I struggled, in the immediate aftermath of Vulcan’s demise; once we returned to Earth, I did not give due consideration to supporting your emotional needs in the way you needed. It was an oversight, one which I will most ardently strive never to commit again.” 

He stepped closer to her. “Apologies and expressions of gratitude are not the Vulcan way,” he continued, “but I find that I must offer you both, Nyota.” He stepped closer yet. “I am grateful for the support, the comfort you gave me on the Enterprise, and I am sorry I was not here for you when you needed someone,” he said quietly. "I should have been. After losing both my planet and my mother, I should have learned a lesson in taking for granted, the people for whom I care deeply." He shook his head slightly.

She sighed and screwed her eyes shut, burying her face in her hands. This was going to be the thing that completely broke her resolve, wasn’t it? Spock, apologizing with that look in his eyes, while Gaila’s belongings were scattered everywhere, with Nyota’s emotional control already in fragile shreds. Her shoulders slumped, and a moment later, she felt gentle hands under her elbows. The warmth of them seeped through the sleeves of her undershirt.

Despite herself, she sobbed harshly as she relaxed into his hold. He pulled her closer hesitantly, as he moved one arm to snake around her waist and moved the other hand to the back of her head as she let herself cry, finally and without reserve, into the front of his tunic. He held her securely to him, his fingertips on the back of her head gently rubbing slow, soothing circles into her scalp. The hand on her back was warm, grounding her in the reality of their moment together.

As her sobs petered out and her breathing returned to something passing for normal, he pulled back slightly and cupped her face. He tilted her head up, leaned down, and pressed his forehead to hers. “I do not deserve the responsibility, but please, allow me to see to your needs," he murmured. She swallowed hard. "What do you need, my Nyota?”  

I don't want to be alone, she thought desperately. And she knew she wasn't, not really. She had the boys, and they loved her in their own ways. And it felt selfish to want more--but she did. God, she did. She inhaled deeply. She wanted Spock. “Don’t leave me again,” she whispered back, peering up at him. “Please, Spock?” He met her eyes steadily. “After losing Gaila, I couldn’t bear losing you, too.”

“I do not intend to, ever again,” he whispered back. “I am profoundly sorry that I gave you more cause for grief, Nyota. You have not been far from my thoughts these past months, and I will endeavor to become someone on whom you can rely, because I have come to realize that my feelings for you…” he trailed off and pressed his lips to her forehead. “My feelings for you are not logical, and it is not the Vulcan way, but my father confessed that he married my mother because he loved her," he whispered into her forehead.

He pulled back a hair to look back down at her. "And I find that loving you, logical or not, comes to me as naturally as breathing," he continued. "Which is ironic, perhaps, given the number of times during our acquaintance, in which you have taken my breath away.” His voice was little more than a whisper. "On the ship, after our time together...I was...truly, I was overwhelmed by just how much I have come to value you, Nyota, and I did not handle my fear appropriately. I regret that your well-being suffered because of it."

She shook her head, which was swimming with everything he'd admitted. She met his eyes and saw genuine distress and dismay, but also genuine affection. She exhaled slowly, then tilted her head up and met his lips in a long, lingering kiss.

A loud, sudden knock at the door startled her out of the lovely little bubble she and Spock seemed to exist in. “It’s probably Kirk,” she explained softly against his lips. “He said he would stop by to see if there was anything he wanted from Gaila’s belongings.” 

A chorus of semi-drunken voices could be heard outside her door, arguing and laughing loudly. “Indeed, and he brought the others with him,” Spock replied. She huffed a laugh and shook her head ruefully.

Her boys were wonderful, but they had the most inconvenient timing ever.

/*\

She woke up early the next day in her own bed, boots kicked off and a thick sweater over her uniform. Spock was curled around her in the narrow cot; she could feel him inhale and exhale against her back. Judging by the rhythm of his breaths, he was awake, and he didn’t feel like he was in any hurry to move. She snuggled further into his embrace, and he tightened his grip around her waist. She felt him press a long kiss to the back of her head.

She glanced around; Scotty was asleep in Gaila’s bed, snoring lightly, his mouth wide open. Jim was stretched out with Leonard on the floor between the beds, and Nyota knew Pavel and Hikaru had passed out somewhere on the floor by the desks. Sal had apparently gone his own way before they'd all left the bar, which was probably for the best, as Nyota didn't know where he would have found space to sleep on her floor.

The boys had helped her sort Gaila’s belongings, taking it in turns to share stories with Scotty and Spock about Gaila’s more colorful escapades. It had been exactly what Nyota needed; she’d cried a little, laughed a lot, remembered her best friend, and then drifted off to sleep, surrounded by Spock and her boys.

And she realized that her dorm no longer felt heavy, or empty, or haunted or unsettled or eerie. No, all she felt, now, was the warmth and contentment she'd felt with Gaila, multiplied exponentially by these men who were trying their best to fill the emptiness left in her life by Gaila’s death. She still missed Gaila fiercely, but she didn't have to miss her alone, and that was making all the difference in the universe. She smiled fondly.

Her boys were wonderful. 

/*\

Stardate 230.2258

Attn: Commander Spock: 

Per Admiral C. Pike: Order to report for duty aboard the Starship Enterprise, 0945 Stardate 230.2258.

Post: First Officer/Chief Science Officer

Department: Sciences

Supervisor: Captain J. Kirk

Duration of mission: 720 solar days

Pre-mission briefing: Cochrane Hall, Starfleet Headquarters, 1500 Stardate 228.2258.Your presence at pre-mission briefing is required waived due to late selection for post. Mission briefing will take place no later than Stardate 231.2258.

Shuttles to Starship Enterprise disembark 0800 Stardate 230.2258 from Port of San Francisco, California. 

/*\/*\

Chapter Text

Jim was so amped with adrenaline and excitement to be out in space, to be Captain Kirk, that August and September passed in the blink of an eye. He didn't think he'd been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time; there was so much to do, so much to learn...and every day, it became more and more clear that he hadn't really known just how much he didn't know, even with all of Pike's guidance and support, even with all of the studying and work Jim had put in while they were grounded. Every day, the the scope of the responsibility he'd inherited sat a little heavier on his shoulders. 

But he saw Spock every day. He saw Nyota and Hikaru and Pavel on their shared bridge shift. Bones usually made his way up to the bridge for a few minutes at a time, a couple of times a shift. Scotty took a shift on the bridge every so often. Jim had his favorite people nearby, safe and accounted for, almost every day. And it was good--he could breathe a little more freely, knowing they were alive and well, knowing that he'd be notified the instant they weren't.

But eventually, Bones' trips to the bridge turned into a weekly thing instead of a daily thing as his duties in sickbay demanded more of his attention. Scotty's bridge shifts petered out as he lost interest in the monotony of it all, preferring to hang out with the warp core instead. And paperwork started accumulating so fast that Jim was nearly a hundred percent certain that paperwork, like tribbles, reproduced asexually and with little regard to the number of other tasks he had to complete every single day.

Pike had warned him it wasn't going to get easier. Pike had warned him he was going to start to feel overwhelmed. That it was normal and that he'd come through it fine. Jim repeated it to himself over and over as he gritted his teeth and tried to pretend that he wasn't slowly starting to hyperventilate inside.

/*\

By December, as he started to become buried under the amount of work he had to complete a day, his presence at their weekly card games become less of a hell yes and more often a maybe. He'd spent more restless nights dozing off over a mountain of PADDs in his ready room than he had in his cabin, which was a shame because his cabin was actually a really fucking nice space, especially considering that the ensigns who weren't part of the primary bridge crew were sharing sleeping space six bunks to an alcove. 

But it was fine. Everything was fine. He was fine. 

/*\

By the time January was over, he'd long since started to wonder what he'd signed himself up for. And the thing was, it didn't seem like anyone else was. Even Pavel. Everybody else seemed so fucking happy to be on board, so goddamn content to be doing their life's work, to be serving a greater purpose--and Jim was just not. The knowledge that he daydreamed about jumping ship made him feel fucking awful. But he couldn't stop. He was so fucking stressed and so fucking overworked and he just didn't know how to tell anyone, how to get help, how to make it better--and he was realizing that his usual coping mechanisms needed a serious revamping.

He couldn't get drunk, because someone thought it would be a good idea to put him in charge.

He couldn't get into a barfight. Anyone he could have fought was his subordinate, because someone thought it would be a good idea to put him in charge.

He couldn't find a casual hook-up because everyone on the fucking ship was his fucking subordinate and some-fucking-one thought it would be a good fucking idea to put him in charge of this fucking floating circus in space and he was slowly starting to lose his fucking mind.

/*\

Valentine's Day? Saint Patrick's Day? Both holidays passed before he'd even realized. He certainly hadn't celebrated. He hadn't had time. He didn't have time to go run on the treadmills in the gyms. He didn't have the energy to do more than skim the intergalactic news feeds during the day. He'd go for days at a time before realizing that he hadn't eaten anything except a couple of protein bars, hadn't drunk anything except his weight in crappy replicator coffee. He didn't have time to talk to Elenora and Horatio, or Madeline, all of whom had commed a few times. He didn't have time to decompress with his friends. He'd never slept much, but it was different now--he was exhausted, utterly, but he couldn't manage more than an hour or two of rest before his stupid brain woke him up again to ruminate in circles, over and over until his alarm went off.

The only person he got to have a real, legitimate conversation with every day was Admiral Komack, who was fluent in both Passive-Aggressive Snark and Thinly-Veiled Insults. Spock was usually present for those briefings, which was a blessing because at some point, he'd become pretty adept at realizing when Jim was going to blow a gasket talking to the brass. When he noticed the telltale signs of Jim's annoyed don't-give-a-fuck attitude coming out, he would take over the briefing while Jim excused himself into the head for a breather.

Fucking Komack was rarely as snarky with Spock as he was with Jim. Maybe having the New Vulcan ambassador to Earth as a father meant a lot more to Komack than having a dead Starfleet hero for a dad. Or maybe Komack was just a jerk with a bug up his ass about Jim being handed the fucking flagship when he really should have been kicked out of the Academy for cheating.

God, Jim was just...he was just...he was worn out, mentally and physically, and he didn't have the energy to do anything about it. His imagination was the only coping mechanism he had left, and in that half-awake space between getting into bed at night and getting out of it the next morning, he found his thoughts wandering back to Earth.

Muir Woods--one of his favorite places. Untouched by mankind, a rare feat for a race of beings who otherwise had an unfortunate knack for destroying anything they came into contact with. Green. Lush. Peaceful. A place where Jim's fanciful side could let him believe that old-Earth fairy tale creatures might exist.

Yosemite and El Capitan, that monster. Who he would manage to free climb before he died, damn it, no matter how much Bones bitched and moaned about not being able to put him back together again like fucking Humpty-Dumpty when he fell.

Georgia and the acres of peach groves near the McCoy farmhouse--the smell of peach blossoms, the taste of fresh peaches, fried with butter and brown sugar; a special breakfast that, according to Bones, Horatio only made when Jim or Joanna were visiting...

...the feel of Sol's warmth on his face, because no star's rays felt quite like Sol's, and the springy grass of the academy grounds under his boots, and the smell of rain and ozone in the air that preceded violent spring thunderstorms in the Iowa of his childhood...

But then life would come crashing back into focus. Yellow alert--paperwork.

Red alert--more paperwork.

Biohazard alert--stupid paperwork, especially when he wasn't even in Sciences. Being responsible for everyone's fuck-ups, and not just his own, was really starting to suck.

Unknown life form aboard--so much paperwork.

Curious, impulsive crew members touching damn-near everything on away missions despite Bones and Spock's constant remonstrations--thank God this paperwork was just a checkbox form, because it was happening a lot.

Mutant parasites latching onto anything with a pulse...Jim's head hurt just thinking about the paperwork he'd had to complete for that one. But Bones and Spock had each had their own mountain of paperwork for that one, too, so at least they'd been able to commiserate with each other.

Muir Woods. Yosemite. Georgia. Rain. Sun. Grass. The constant ache in his stomach was probably ulcers. Or maybe they'd missed a parasite.

/*\

By April, Jim felt like he was going to twitch out of his skin. So when Bones brought up the possibility of unscheduled shore leave on the nearby uninhabited moon orbiting Primus 344-b, Jim enthusiastically sent the request to Komack before Bones could even finish his spiel. Komack approved it within the hour, which was decent of him considering he was otherwise such a prick.

And that was the beginning of a tipping point in Jim's captaincy. 

/*\

A few days later, on the uninhabited moon orbiting Primus 344-b...

"Enterprise! Get us out of here!" Jim shouted into his communicator as he and Pavel ran for their lives. Damn it, all we wanted was to put our fucking feet on firm ground for the first time in six goddamn months and now this--"Enterprise, where the fuck are you?"

"Aye, lad, I'm trying t'lock on to yer signals, but yer both moving quite erratically, y'know!" Scotty snapped testily. "I'll have a lock momentarily." 

"Captain, what is your status?" Spock sounded otherwise unperturbed. Jim wanted to scream. 

"We're being chased by the motherfucking Godzilla of cockroaches, Commander!" he shouted.

"Indeed, Captain?"

"Indeed, Commander!" He dodged past a low-hanging bough as Pavel, in front of him, skirted around a large boulder. Pavel glanced quickly behind them. Jim caught enough of the look on Pavel's face to know that they were in Deep Shit. "If you have anything helpful to add, now would be a great time! Otherwise, Kirk out!" He snapped his communicator shut before Spock could reply.

Behind them, the giant, fanged cockroach--fucking fangs on a fucking cockroach, I'm never going to sleep again, he thought--crashed through the underbrush, preceded by the rank smell of rotting trash and some other sickly-sweet smell that Jim didn't want to think too hard about. Almost to the beam-out point, and then Scotty won't have any excuse to not get us the hell back to the ship, he thought desperately. Just watch your step and don't--

Pavel fell with a sharp, alarmed cry as his head disappeared from Jim's vision. Jim stumbled as he tried to avoid trampling the kid. He slid to a stop on the slightly-rotten foliage under his feet, turning wildly to scramble back to Pavel as the roach reached out and swiped at them with one of it's front legs. Pavel let out another sharp cry, this one full of pain. 

Cover! Fight back! Do something, Captain Kirk! Jim's mind screamed it at him, and he glanced around desperately. The roach ground to a halt and towered over them as he reached down and slid his hands under Pavel's armpits, dragging him backwards towards a tree line where they could hide. Hopefully.

Bright red blood left a gory path behind them, was a stark counter to Pavel's ashen face. This is it, he thought. This is how we're going to die, sliced to death by a fucking cockroach with fangs and razors for legs on some little fucking moon in the middle of nowhere. What a fucking waste. I'm so sorry, kid.

The roach let out a shrill, high pitched scream, just as Jim felt the now-familiar tingle of a transporter beam wrap around him and Pavel. Saved by the beam, he thought, relief flooding his chest as the roach was left behind in a blur of white lights.

/*\ 

He deserved it, deserved every second of Spock and Komack reaming him out, while Bones patched Pavel up in surgery. Spock and Komack's remonstrations were going to be nothing compared to what Bones was going to do to him when he was done fixing Pavel. To what Nyota, and Hikaru, and Scotty were going to do to him. To what Elenora, and Pike, and Pavel's parents, were going to say to him.

Every fucking second of it. He deserved it.

/*\ 

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

At the even query from behind him, Jim let out a very slow, controlled exhale through his nose, then scowled down at his tray. It was fucking late, and he was fucking hungry, and despite telling himself earlier that he deserved her anger, he was currently not in the mood to listen to Uhura needle him about how incompetent he was.

Her commentary was sure to be an echo of Spock’s earlier words: "Captain, with all due respect, yours is the example that the crew will follow. Therefore, you must adhere to Starfleet protocol. Such protocols are in place to ensure the safety and well-being of all crew members, and actively disregarding them sets a dangerous precedent for how the crew will handle dangerous situations for the duration of our mission.”

Well thank you very fucking much, Commander Spock. As if Jim hadn’t already been made painfully aware that his decision to beam down to the small moon orbiting Primus 344-b with Pavel, before Sal and the security detail, was a stupid idea.

Thank God Pavel was a marathon runner, because he'd needed every ounce of that stamina to outrun the bug. And thank God Scotty was manning the transporter, because Jim hadn’t run so fast since almost being eaten on Delta Vega. Anyone else would have struggled to track his and Pavel’s erratic movements as they tried to avoid becoming a mutant cockroach’s lunch. And as if it weren’t bad enough that they’d almost been eaten, Pavel was still in sickbay, sleeping off Bones’ treatment for the gouge that fucking bug had taken out of his leg. Jim sighed. 

“Lieutenant Uhura, please. I know I earned the lecture this time, but could you save it for tomorrow? I already heard it from everyone else today, and trust me—I’m mentally flagellating myself for putting Pavel in danger,” Jim replied flatly, without looking up. 

“I’m not here to lecture you,” Uhura replied evenly. Her tone wasn’t combative at all. And that was so unexpected that Jim did look up and meet her eyes. 

“You’re not?” he asked skeptically. That did not sound right.

She shook her head. “Can I sit?” she asked, gesturing with her own tray to the vacant spot across from him. 

“I guess?” Jim replied warily. Yes, the two of them had come a long way since losing Gaila and Vulcan and nearly their entire academy class; he was pretty sure she didn’t want to kick him in the balls every time they spoke anymore, at the very least. But he wasn’t sure he trusted her when she said she wasn’t going to lecture him. 

He watched her slide into the chair and set her tray down. She didn’t say anything to him as she rearranged her food on her tray and started eating. He, finally, shrugged to himself and looked back down at his own tray. He poked at his salad. He sighed dejectedly and speared a piece of lettuce. 

God, he'd kill for a burger and fries. But no, his Judas of a best friend had him eating fucking rabbit food. 

“What are you doing, eating so late, anyway?” Uhura asked, conversationally, after a few bites of her food. Jim sighed and shook the limp piece of lettuce off his fork. 

“Well, first, Spock ripped me a new one in his very Vulcan way. Then I had to give Komack a full report. And then Komack decided to rip me a new one, too. And then, once that cluster of fucking fun was over, Sal shoved his boot up my ass for not letting his team do their jobs and for putting Pavel in danger. And then Bones finally finished patching Pavel up, so he decided to give me a fucking hour-long lecture on being a responsible grown-ass man." Jim sighed heavily. "I'm lucky Pike wasn’t available at all. I can only imagine what his rant would’ve sounded like. And I’d have had to wait even longer to finally fucking eat.” He'd have had to wait even longer to beat the shit out of himself for almost getting Pavel killed.

Six months, Kirk, he scolded himself. You've been captain for six fucking months, now. You should know better than to do something so fucking stupid as beaming down to an unknown planet without letting security do recon first. What is the matter with you? You wanted to keep Pavel on the ship so everyone could keep him out of trouble, and what do you do? Take him to knock on trouble's front fucking door. Goddamn it, Kirk.  

He'd deserved every second of Bones' lecture, and Spock's, and Sal's. Komack's. He'd deserve it if Elenora grounded him for the rest of his fucking life. He would deserve any remonstration Nyota decided to dish out. He would deserve it if Pavel and Hikaru and Scotty never forgave him. He sighed.

Nyota simply nodded, an understanding look on her face. She bit her lip and studied him for a moment; he couldn't meet her eye, so he looked down. “You guys scared us, you know,” she finally replied, her voice serious and not at all angry. Not the least bit—not like Sal and Bones and Spock and Komack and probably Elenora, once Bones told her about his latest fuck-up as the fucking captain of a fucking starship.

He was barely twenty-six. Who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to give him command of an entire fucking ship? 

He sighed and looked up. Nyota was studying him carefully. “That’s why Leonard and Spock tore you to shreds. You and Pavel scared the shit out of everyone.” She shook her head. “Kirk—Jim—we’re all each other have, out here. Pavel is important to us, to the crew. You’re important to the crew. To all of us. And not just because you’re the captain, but because you’re our friend.” She offered him a tight smile. “We're...we're family, Kirk. You--you know that. Right? You, and me and Pavel. Hikaru, and Leonard and Scotty. Spock. Even Sal." She shrugged and offered him a small, sad smile. "Gaila," she added softly. Jim felt his eyes well up with tears.

God, the idea of family. Yeah, he had Elenora and Horatio, and Madeline and Jo. Bones' family had taken him in as one of their own, absorbed him into their already healthy family unit. But...them? His little group of friends, and the relationships they'd built from the ground up? He felt an ache in his chest. They'd fought tooth and nail to stay together for this mission. They'd fought for each other, for each other's sanity, through each other's overwhelming grief and depression and...Jim exhaled heavily. Nyota must have noticed the wetness in his eyes, but she said nothing about it. Instead, she offered him a small smile. "We followed you through hell and back, Jim. With Nero. We trust you.”

“You shouldn’t,” he blurted out. Nyota sat back in her chair, her face furrowed in confusion.

“Why not?”

Because he was barely twenty six. Because he was, in no way, qualified for this job. Hell, he’d probably have been kicked out of the academy for hacking the Kobiyashi Maru if Vulcan hadn’t sent out its distress signal during his hearing. 

“Because, I…because I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, Uhura. You called it—I don’t know what made anyone think I was going to be able to do this job.”

Nyota just studied him for a long moment. He started to squirm; the look on her face was too similar to the one Madeline gave him when she was considering how she was going to use her psychobabble to eviscerate his bullshit.

“What about this job can’t you handle?” she asked. To her credit, she sounded genuinely confused and not like she was trying to make a point, like Madeline did. He huffed a sigh as he looked over her shoulder, gathering his thoughts.

“The paperwork is killing me,” he finally replied. “I’m drowning in it. If it were real paper, the amount of it would crush me under it’s weight. I would suffocate. And die.”

Nyota rolled her eyes with a small smile. “Captain Kirk of the U.S.S. Melodrama,” she replied dryly. She let out a small chuckle. “You might be in competition with Leonard and Hikaru for top drama-being on board, has anyone ever told you that?”

Bones and Madeline and even Joanna had told him he was overdramatic, but he wasn’t about to tell Nyota that even Bones’ nine-year old kid was astute enough to call him on his bullshit. It was a McCoy family gift, apparently. “And nothing happens for months," he hurried to continue, "and then out of nowhere—bam!—it’s like the galaxy just...just fucking slaps us in the face, and I’m terrified I’m going to get us all killed because I make the wrong decision.” He shook his head. “It’s keeping me up at night, Uhura. The idea that I’m responsible for anyone else's life, let alone almost five-hundred of them? It’s too much. I feel--I feel paralyzed, sometimes, by the sheer magnitude of it.” 

He let out a hysterical little laugh, even as tears pricked at his eyes. He rubbed the heels of his palms into them as he continued. “Komack has his foot permanently lodged up my ass. Nothing I ever do is good enough, not even when I’ve got all the justification in the world for why I’ve done something—even when Spock is there to back me up! And it sounds crazy, but I never thought I’d actually miss Earth. I never thought I’d miss…that I’d miss rain, you know? And--and sunshine. And the ground under my feet.”

“So that's why you guys ditched Sal and beamed down early?”

Jim drew up short and let his hands fall from his eyes to the table. He felt his mouth drop open in surprise—was it? Was he that desperate to get off this ship, that he was willing to put his life, and Pavel’s life, in danger?

Aw, come on, Pasha. What's the worst that could happen? It's uninhabited. Scanners said it's the planetary equivalent of a marshmallow.

He exhaled heavily as he remembered convincing Pavel to ditch the ship with him. Jim had been ready to jump out of his skin, and maybe he knew that anyone else would have quoted regulation at him. Pavel was an excellent partner in crime because he was more often down for a little unauthorized activity than the rest of their friends. It didn't hurt that Jim knew that Pavel was more likely to go along with something if Jim was the one suggesting it. A fresh wave of guilt washed over him as he thought of Pavel, unconscious in sickbay.

“I guess so,” he admitted. He felt his posture slump. “I'm such a twat. I could have waited another couple of hours for Sal's people to clear the planet. I should have. But I broke fucking protocol and now Pavel's hurt and I'm sitting here, bitching about the job I’ve always wanted, sitting on the ship I’ve always dreamed of working on. People would kill to have my job.”

“But nobody could handle it like you, Jim,” Nyota replied. She leaned forward and touched his arm. “For the record—I hear a lot of ship scuttlebutt. Comms officers usually do. Most of your crew have no idea that you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Jim snorted. “Bullshit.”

“No, seriously. They see things happen, like today, but they chalk it up to you just…being you . Not any sort of incompetence.”

He mulled over her words for a moment. “So, in other words, fake it till I make it?”

Nyota smiled. “See, I knew you weren’t just some dumb hick.” 

The echo of a long-ago night, of slightly-drunken words spoken in a seedy little bar light-years away, vibrated across the galaxy. The memory of Sal's fists and Nyota's unamused face and Pike's challenge to him--I dare you to do better--crossed his mind. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, unbidden.

“But we’re still not sure about the farm animals?” he asked wryly. She burst into a loud laugh. The sound of it caused the knot in his stomach to loosen slightly as he laughed too. Luckily, it was so late that there weren’t many crew in the mess to hear them laughing like hyenas. Still chuckling a few moments later, she sat back in her chair. Her laughter faded into a pensive smile, before she sighed and shook her head. 

“I think we’re all feeling out of our depth right now, Jim. It’s not just you, if that helps. I mean, no—none of us has as much riding on our jobs as you do. But we’re all feeling the stress of it. Of the job, of the literal and figurative distance between us and our families, of the losses we’ve all suffered in the last year…I don't know if this will make you feel better, but you’re not the only one who feels the need to blow off some steam.”

Jim nodded slowly. It did help. Nyota always looked so calm and collected, and Bones was always grumpy, so space-grumpy wasn’t too far out of character for him; Spock was as cool and implacable as ever, and Scotty always seemed to be his usual cheerful self. The idea that any of them were feeling as lost, stressed, and exhausted as him was reassuring, because they'd all seemed so..so not. "You can love your job, but still need a break," she added quietly. She let out a mirthless huff of a laugh. "Gaila used to tell me that when I got too close to burning out."

Jim smiled ruefully. "Yeah. She always knew what to say. What we all needed to hear," he replied, just as quietly. He met Nyota's eyes. "You know, she'd be so fucking proud of you," he added earnestly. Nyota swallowed hard.

"She'd be proud of you, too, Jim. She always was," Nyota replied just as earnestly. "And for what it's worth...she would have forgiven you for the Kobyashi Maru. Holding a grudge...it just wasn't her style."

No, it wasn't. Gaila's bright soul hadn't had room for bitter grudges. It was one of the things he'd loved best about her--her vivacious joy had been a balance for the dark spaces in him that held onto grudges with an unforgiving iron grip.

Jim swallowed hard; it might have been the first time they'd been able to talk about Gaila without one, or both, of them breaking down in tears. He cleared his throat. “Thanks, Nyota.” Her first name slipped out--he couldn't rightly remember if he'd ever used it before in conversation. He winced slightly. Good job, genius--way to ruin all the progress you two have made. Just because he called her Nyota in his head, didn't mean they were in a place where he could say it out loud. He bit his lip and met her eyes guiltily, but Nyota just smiled.

It was a little sad, and a little bittersweet, but there was a glimmer there that spoke of the kind of fond exasperation he'd heard before in Bones' voice, seen in Madeline's unsubtle eyerolls at him. “You’re welcome, Jim.”

/*\

Wake up, sonic shower, pick a uniform, replicate a cup of awful coffee—his routine for every single day of the past six months had been exactly the same. And every day, the knot of dread in his gut tightened as he beat the now familiar path to his ready room, coffee in one hand and his personal PADD in the other; waiting for him on the other side of the pneumatic door was the stress of a fucking mountain of PADDs with more reports than he could believe existed. 

He stopped outside the door's sensor and closed his eyes against the twist in his gut. Deep breaths, Kirk. You need to know what's going on with your ship. You'll catch up on the paperwork soon. Hopefully. He opened his eyes, took a bracing breath, and stepped forward. The sensor picked up on his movement and the door slid open; he stepped inside, then stopped short.

His desk was cleared. He glanced around. Maybe the maintenance department had moved them? Don was a good guy, and Jim had gotten to know him pretty well in the past six months—lots of nights so late that the gamma shift cleaning crew were on duty. Maybe Don had finally given in to curiosity about just what Jim’s desk looked like under the normal mountain of work?

But, no—the PADDs were nowhere to be seen. He stepped forward slowly and set his mug and PADD down, then turned to survey the room more fully.

As he did, his PADD pinged. He tapped it and read the notification; it was a rotating schedule for the crew's leave on Primus 344-b’s moon. There wasn’t much for them to do there, but it was a chance for most everyone to put their feet on solid ground for the first time in over a hundred and eighty days, so long as they minded the local wildlife. He huffed ruefully to himself. Wildlife my ass. Mutant insectoids is more like it.

His ready room door swished open; he looked up in surprise. Spock entered, followed by Bones. “Hey, guys. What’s up?" he asked, setting his PADD down on his desk. "Bones, how’s Pavel? I didn’t get to stop in and see him before shift, I’m planning on heading down there in a little bit.” Even though he felt slightly sick at the idea that Pavel was likely pissed at him.

“He’s gonna be fine, Jim. But you? Sit.” Bones gestured to the desk chair. Jim sat. “I need to check you over, make sure there’s no lasting effects from y’all’s little misadventure yesterday.”

“And I have a matter of ship’s business to discuss with you, Captain. I would appreciate Doctor McCoy’s input,” Spock added. Jim couldn’t see Bones’ face, but he was sure Bones was rolling his eyes. 

“Listen, Spock, if it’s about yesterday—,”

“Indeed, it is related to the incident yesterday.”

“I know I screwed up, okay? I get that. You guys and Komack made it perfectly clear, and I completely agree, I was totally out of line—,”

“Jim,” Bones said quietly, “shut up and let the hobgoblin talk, would you?”

Spock raised an eyebrow a fraction at the word hobgoblin, but in a characteristic display of control, otherwise ignored the insult. Jim closed his mouth and looked up at Spock expectantly as Bones crouched in front of him and shone a penlight in his eyes, then ran the tricorder over him.

“Captain, it has come to my attention that you have been laboring under what most humans would consider undue stress for the past one-hundred eighty-seven days of our mission,” Spock began. “Lieutenant Uhura informs me that you have been taking on more work than you can reasonably be expected to complete, if you are to also remain healthy enough to command this vessel.”

Blabbermouth, he thought mulishly. He should have known she’d run right to Spock, but he'd needed to get shit off his chest and he had felt better for it afterwards. So he probably couldn't be too mad at her for getting Spock involved. “I’m fine, Commander. I’ve never needed much sleep. I can handle it.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should, Jim,” Bones pointed out as he put his tricorder away. “Your bioreadings show serious sleep deprivation and other biochemical imbalances, ones that would be affected by lack of sleep and significant amounts of stress. Eventually, it’s gonna catch up to you. That what you want? To be impaired and have it catch up to you on the bridge? In the middle of going a round or two with a Klingon warbird? Or--or a tribble infestation, or something?”

Jim just rubbed his forehead. Tribble infestation? God, he could only imagine the paperwork that would go along with that kind of debacle. It would make the mutant parasite incident look like a cakewalk. He sighed; there was not enough coffee in the galaxy for this conversation.  

How unfair of them, to gang up on him like this. And it struck him then, that if Bones and Spock ever decided to team up and mutiny against him, there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do to stop it. And that was before they got Nyota to help. And once she was on board, Hikaru and Scotty and Pavel and probably Sal would fall into line like good little soldiers.

It was a sobering thought.  

“As such, Doctor McCoy and I have taken the liberty of making adjustments to the division of duties that you and I agreed upon with Admiral Pike at the outset of our mission,” Spock continued when Jim said nothing. Jim’s eyes shot up to Spock.

“Commander—you two had no right to—,”

“On the contrary, Captain. It is my job to ensure that you have the support necessary to command, and it is the doctor’s job to ensure that the medical and psychological needs of the crew are being met. As both captain and crew member, you clearly did not have the support to see to your duties without harming yourself physically and emotionally; therefore, as both Doctor McCoy and I were remiss in our duties, it was logical that he and I rectify our oversight with regards to your needs." Spock raised one slanted eyebrow at him. "You will find that we had every right.”

Motherfuckers. Jim’s head swiveled up to look at Bones, who didn’t look the least bit sorry about going behind his back. “What the actual fuck, Bones?”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Jim, you’re running yourself ragged trying to do it all, and that was never in your job description. What would Momma say if she got wind of how much stress you’ve been under? If she saw those bags under your eyes, or the fact that you look like you’ve lost weight? I swear, I’ve got half a mind to comm her myself and rat you out. She’d be on a shuttle out to us so damn fast your head would spin, and then you’d be really sorry—,”

“Ship reports now fall under my purview," Spock interrupted quickly. So not only had Spock learned to tell when Jim was ready to explode at superior officers, but he could tell when Bones was picking up steam for a good rant, too. Jim bit back a smile, despite himself; God, what a great team the three of them were going to be, as soon as he could get his shit together. 

“Aw, come on, Spock. No way. I have to know what’s going on with our ship,” he protested. Bones quickly jabbed him in the neck with a hypospray. "Ow." He turned to glare at Bones, who glared right back at him.

“Yeah, you do. And you’re going to do it the old-fashioned way,” Bones retorted. “Every morning at the start of Alpha. You and I are going to make rounds of all the departments—engineering, medical, all the sciences, communications, tactical. You’re going to get out of that chair for a few hours every shift and get to know your people. You’ve spent so much time trying to keep up with reports that you’ve become one with that miserable excuse for an ergonomic chair. Spock will forward you anything he deems pertinent.” He softened. “Jim, you need to get to know your crew. You know all of them by name and recognize all of them by face, and not many commanding officers fleet-wide can say the same—but you haven’t had a chance to get to know them on a personal level yet. Mission is a quarter of the way over already, and it would do wonders for ship’s morale.”

Jim rubbed his head again. So that was why his desk was clear this morning; Spock had handled all the reports before Jim had even made it to his ready room. He sighed. As much as he wanted to know every detail of what was happening with the ship, maybe they were onto something. That pile would have taken Jim hours. Hours that would be better spent making rounds in the departments talking to his people, if he was honest with himself. He hated when Bones was right.

“Fine,” he muttered mulishly. “Anything else, Brutus? And just what the fuck was in that hypo?”

Bones rolled his eyes again. “You are such a child,” he muttered. “It was just a multivitamin. And yeah, since you asked. There is something else. I’m making adjustments to your meal card, and I’m setting you up with counseling support sessions, once a week.”

“Bones, no,” Jim replied emphatically. “No counseling. The last thing I need is for Komack to get even the hint of an idea that I’m compromised. He’ll boot me without a second thought.”

“The counseling was Pike’s idea, actually, and Madeline is working out the details with Doctor Hait at SG,” Bones replied evenly. “Komack can’t take your ship from you for supportive counseling sessions, Jim. He could try, but he's not stupid. Pike and Barnett would kick his ass. Not to mention that we'd all have something pretty fucking definite to say about it, too,” he added, gesturing to the ship as a whole. "Besides that, Spock would eviscerate him legally."

Spock acknowledged the compliment with a tilt of his head. “Cadet McCoy is confident that she and Doctor Hait will find a suitable counselor,” he added.

Jim closed his eyes. “I can’t believe you dragged Pike and Madeline into this, too.”

“Yeah, well, we're not above fighting dirty, Jim, not when you refuse to take care of yourself,” Bones replied easily. “And as for your meal card—,”

“Christ, Bones, can you not?" He was probably getting close to whining, but damn it, he could only take so much. "I’ve only just gotten used to the fucking rabbit food you’ve got me eating already. I can’t take any more.”

“I’m not restricting anything, you melodramatic punk. I’m adding an allowance for some comfort food, three times a week, in moderation,” Bones replied pointedly. “Something small, like a slice of pie, or a salty snack, or a chocolate bar—but just try ordering an entire pie and see what happens, because I will find out.” He smacked the back of Jim's head lightly. "Omniscience 101. Remember?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Vaguely," he replied sarcastically.

Bones smirked. “And your shore leave starts now, Captain,” he continued, hoisting him up out of his chair by his armpit. 

“Wait--what?” Jim squawked as he stumbled to his feet. “Bones, no—that’s just not how it’s done.”

“And anything else this ship has done, is?” Bones retorted. “Kid, you and your crew are rewriting the book one page at a time, and we’re retitling it ‘Fuck The Way That It’s Always Been Done: Life under the Captaincy of James T. Kirk’. Come on, we’re going to medical to pick up Pavel, and then Sal is going to escort you both to the surface for some proper rest and relaxation. And keep an eye on you like y'all're little wayward kindergarteners.”

Jim barely had time to make a desperate grab for his mug of coffee as Bones steered him out from behind his desk. He managed to snag it and, happily, only spilled a little. “Spock, you’ve got things under control up here?” Bones asked over his shoulder as he frog-marched Jim to the ready room doors.

“Indeed, Doctor,” Spock replied. “Captain Kirk will be recalled in the event of an emergency but will otherwise not be disturbed.”

“Yeah, well, you better make sure there aren’t any emergencies,” Bones shot back as the ready room doors slid shut behind them. Jim couldn’t help but smile to himself as Bones directed him down the corridor he'd just traversed from his quarters.

He’d just been mother-henned by two of the most intimidating men on the ship. And despite the terrifying glimpse he'd gotten of what Bones and Spock could accomplish if they learned how to actually work together, it left him with a warm feeling in his chest.

It had been almost a year since the destruction of Vulcan. And in that year, at some point, he realized that he'd become so caught up in being Captain Kirk that he'd forgotten how to rely on anyone--on his friends--for...for anything. For everything. He'd forgotten how much he trusted them, how much he needed them. Even more so now, than he had in their academy days.

What happened to Pavel on the moon below should have never happened. But if any good had come of it, it was that the aftereffects helped him remember just how much he needed their support. Their humor, their friendship, their loyalty. The warm feeling in his chest grew, and a certain sense of determination steeled his spine: it wasn't just his job to protect them, to keep them alive and safe. It was his duty of care to the people who knew him and all of his faults and loved him anyway. And those people--his friends, his people, his family--they felt the same about him. It was humbling.

Nyota was right, he thought with a growing sense of pride and affection. We've made ourselves into a family.

A sentiment from one of Jo and Gaila's favorite movies to watch together came to mind and made him smile. Our family. We made it, all on our own. It's little, and broken...but still good. His smile widened as Bones relaxed his grip from vice-like to companionable, then slung his arm across Jim's shoulders. Yeah. Still good.

And that thought did more to buoy his spirits than shore leave ever would. As long as they had each other, they would be okay.

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