Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Depending on who you asked, Captain James T. Kirk was a man of many things. To the citizens of Earth, he was a hero, a savior. To his fellow classmates back at Starfleet academy, he was a womanizer and somewhat of a brash fool who liked to get into too many fights. His mother would probably refuse to answer while Admiral Pike would say that Kirk was like the son he never had.

Either or, most people just didn't realize that behind his many masks and fronts, Jim Kirk was a genius. Not just a genius. He was a freaking genius. Sure, his crew knew that he had many talents and was oddly skillful in the most random things, but there were always questions and rumors. With his laid-back personality, it was just hard to figure out what was the truth and what had been exaggerated.

But after Kirk proved to be more than what he seemed time after time again, the crew of the Enterprise had learned that everything was true.

There were no exaggerations.

Nope. The truth was plain and simple: James T. Kirk was a freaking genius, even under the most unfavorable conditions…

I

Speak of the Devil and He Shall Appear

Captain Jim Kirk was lounging happily on his favorite chair on his Bridge, brightly munching on an apple as he observed his crew working diligently around him.

Spock was immersed in some sort of scientific journal; Uhura (not Nyota yet) was concentrating hard on translating a message from a Klingon ship. Chekov and Sulu were sprawled over a digital map, heatedly discussing the merits of different routes, and Bones was off somewhere in Sickbay, menacing poor Ensigns with his hyposprays.

All-in-all, it was a slow day.

And Jim was bored, which meant that his over-active mind was about to start coming up with ingenious plans to mess with people.

That never ended well for him.

Spock could easily put him in a choke-hold again, though Spock was now more than likely to ream him out logically. Though they became great friends after the whole Nerada debacle, Jim was a still a little bit tentative to mess with the Vulcan. It took too much energy to work loops within Spock's logic and Uhura would probably castrate him if he even got a step too close to them. If he went to bother Bones, he would say something along the lines of "Dammnit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a distraction!" and proceed to infect him with some obscure disease. Definitely not an option. Sulu and Chekov would have probably teamed up with him if they weren't so afraid of Bones, Uhura, and Spock. They were all a load of wet blankets.

Which left Scotty.

Jim grinned and stood from his chair. "Spock, I'm going to see how things are in Engineering. You have the conn."

Spock glanced up. "Understood. However, Captain, I would suggest you refrain from collaborating with Mister Scott in various experiments that, as past experiences have indicated, may not end well. We are, after all, on a set schedule to transport dangerous criminals to the penal colony Tantalus V. Delays are not wise."

Jim shrugged aside Spock's concerns as he headed to the turbolift. "Unless the felons have someone on the inside, it shouldn't be possible for them to escape the brig. And I'm offended that you would think that I would encourage Scotty's shenanigans, Spock. I am Captain, after all. I have to make sure that everything is ship-shape."

"You're just bored, Captain," teased Uhura. "And Scotty's the only one that you can bother without worries of bodily harm."

"I never denied that," smirked Jim, pressing a button to lower him down to the Engineering deck. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Don't miss me too much!"

The command crew rolled their eyes just as the doors shut.

Sometimes, they really wondered whether or not Jim Kirk was seriously mature enough to be their Captain, though of course, in the next few hours, they never questioned that again.

 Jim strolled onto the Engineering deck and shouted, "Scotty!" as loudly as he could. He grinned as his voice echoed around the heavy machinery. He had always liked to tinker around with equipment and engines; he and Scotty had shared many drinks over their mutual love of all things that were made of metal.

He kept walking, nodding casually at the various Ensigns that passed by him, as he headed towards the back of the engines. Scotty tended to stay in that region of wiring and electrics to ensure that the Enterprise was always at her best.

Sure enough, Scotty was on his back and halfway hidden underneath a power console. Jim knelt down and tapped at the Chief Engineer's foot.

"Scotty!" he called again, for good measure. There was a muffled yelp and some cursing in Gaelic. Jim chuckled as Scotty squirmed out.

"Jim! Doncha know not to scare a man like tha'?" scolded Scotty, even as a smile made a way to his face.

"What're you doing today, Scotty?" asked Jim. "I don't usually find you lodged in a crevice like this."

"Ach, Keenser said that somethin' is off 'bout these controls. Said tha' someone's been fiddlin' with it."

Jim frowned. "They power the main control throughout the Enterprise, don't they? It's complex and dangerous to meddle with them."

"Ah know. And there're wires tha' are twisted about. Take a look yerself."

Scotty climbed to his feet while Jim laid flat on his back. He shimmied his way through the crack with more ease than the Scottish man and within seconds, he could see what Scotty was talking about. But he also saw a small contraption close to his right ear that didn't belong. It was rectangular and there was an antenna sticking out from one of the corners, like a radio. Or remote detonation…But why? Even if the console exploded, it would take a talented programmer and engineer to reroute the power. It just didn't seem worth blowing it up. Unless there were high security measures that simple programming couldn't bypass…

Jim's blue eyes widened as soon as his brain linked together the small pieces of information.

"Shit! Scotty, call the Bridge. Red alert!" he shouted as he scrambled out. "The prisoners are planning an escape!"

"A little late fer tha…" muttered Scotty.

The Engineer was kneeling with his hands up in surrender as three men pointed their phasers at him. Jim inwardly swore as he raised his arms as well.

"Ensign Sean, I would just like you to know that your plans to release the prisoners aren't going to work," Jim said. "This won't end well for you. If you surrender now, I'll talk to the Admiralty. They'll give you a lighter sentence."

The middle-aged man with dark brown hair snarled. "That won't be necessary. You're going to die right here, Captain Kirk."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Shooting me seems so cliché, doesn't it? Anyone can pull a trigger. At least come up with something creative. I mean, I probably did something to you that you're seeking revenge for now, right? Did I fuck your wife? Girlfriend? Or did I kick your ass so hard that you can't show your face without embarrassment? Though, I'm sure I didn't really make that much of a difference."

Sean growled, his entire face turning red. "Don't you ever shut up?!"

"No, I don't. I hear that it's a quality of mine that people admire. I've been told that I have quite a talented tongue as well, and I mean that in every way possible. Should I start speaking in long, eloquent sentences or will you just get confused?"

"Shut up!" yelled Sean, slamming the butt of his phaser against Jim's temple.

Lights burst in his vision for a brief second and then rapidly blackened. Fuck…that had hurt! A vicious throbbing attacked Jim's mind and he could feel himself losing his consciousness fast. The world was tilting and he landed heavily onto his side.

He could hear Scotty yelling his name and sounds of scuffling. Through his bleary vision, Jim saw the man standing to Sean's left raise his arm and bring it crashing down against Scotty's head. Scotty fell limply to the ground. Then there was blood pooling around his hair.

That sparked a defiant nerve within Jim. Worry and anger rushed through him. How dare they hurt Scotty?! How dare they try to pull this shit on him?! But the world was still spinning, still darkening, and he couldn't coax his body to move fully.

Sean snapped at the other man who just grabbed Scotty by his arms and started dragging the engineer, probably to use as leverage. When they got to a good distance, Sean lifted a small remote and grinned brightly at Jim.

"So long, Captain Kirk."

He pressed the button.

And then there was nothing but flames and pain…

 The Bridge was quiet without their Captain hovering around. Sometimes, the crew found the silence deafening; others, it was a blessing to be able to complete their work without any distractions. This was one of those times where they kind of wished that their Captain had decided to bother one of them. At least they would get a good chuckle out of such a slow day.

Chekov turned in his chair to catch Sulu's attention. "Hikaru, vhat do you think the Keptin is doing to the ship?"

Sulu shook his head, "He and Scotty are probably enjoying the new fermentation distillation that they installed the last time Kirk was down there."

"Though the Captain does seem to enjoy that pastime, I highly doubt that he would indulge in such an activity while on duty," Spock said from his station.

The two immediately ducked their heads, a light flush on their faces at being caught. Damn Spock's Vulcan hearing!

"I'm surprised he didn't go find McCoy," Uhura added to their conversation. "The Sickbay has been empty for a couple of days now and he's all caught up in sleep and paperwork. Kirk's likelihood of getting hypoed is pretty small."

"Has Kirk gotten his annual vaccinations yet?" Sulu asked.

"I don't know, but weren't we supposed to get that two weeks ago? I'm sure McCoy's gotten the entire ship already."

"It seems that the Captain is allergic to this particular strain and therefore has been exempt from Doctor McCoy's…" Spock thought for a brief second for the right word. "…administrations."

Sulu and Chekov snickered at Spock's hesitation and Uhura grinned.

The turbolift opened and McCoy stepped onto the Bridge, immediately noticing the absence of their blue-eyed Captain. "Where's Jim?" he questioned gruffly as he shifted his hold on the medkit he had in his right hand.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear…" whispered Sulu, though none too quietly.

Chekov giggled and Hikaru's smile grew broader.

"What?" glared Leonard. "Spock, where's Jim?"

"He said he was going to Engineering, but I do not know if that was his true destination. May I ask why you have come to the Bridge, Doctor McCoy?"

"I managed to get a different strain of vaccinations that Jim can actually handle and I figured he'd run if I told him that I needed him down in Sickbay."

"So, you figured you'd corner him here where Spock can hold him down. Smart," laughed Uhura.

"Would you like me to comm him to return to the Bridge, Doctor?" asked Spock.

McCoy's eyebrow rose. "You know, if I didn't know better, you want to see Jim squirm, don't you?"

"Such emotions are illogical."

"Which is Vulcan for 'hell yes'…" muttered McCoy. "Yeah, comm him. I don't have all day to wait for him."

Spock studiously ignored the laughter around the Bridge and reached his slender fingers to his console. He was centimeters away from pressing the button when the entire ship jolted violently, making McCoy lose his footing and knocking several crew members out of their chairs. Alarms began flashing red and blaring loudly as shouts could be heard below.

"What the hell was that?!" yelled McCoy.

Instantly, everyone sprang into action. Fingers flew across consoles, questions were rapidly fired and answered, and the problem was found in the matter of seconds.

"Commander, there was an explosion in Engineering!" Sulu said quickly. "But it doesn't seem to be an external attack."

The lights began to flicker and the entire ship seemed to groan.

"Locate the origin of the detonation, Lieutenant Sulu."

"Jim…" breathed McCoy as a horrible realization hit him. "Jim was at Engineering!"

"I am aware, Doctor McCoy, but we have to assess the damage first."

"You damn hobgoblin, I'm going down there."

"Negative, Doctor. As of now, we do not know the exact condition of Engineering. It is too dangerous."

McCoy opened his mouth, ready to angrily argue back, but Chekov cut him off.

"Commander, there is something vrong vith the controls."

"What do you mean?"

"There is something that is overvriting the initial program. A sub-route has been implanted and is rapidly embedding its code. I cannot stop it. I think the explosion damaged the main console, sir."

"Translation: someone is hacking into the Enterprise and we have no way to stop it," supplied Sulu grimly.

Spock's face remained expressionless, except for the slight twitch of his lips downward. "That is impossible. Lieutenant Chekov, try to isolate the program within the matrix and eliminate it from there."

"I cannot, sir," said Chekov as the ship whined and the lights went out for a moment. "Ve hawe lost control."

"Lieutenant Uhura, do we have communications with Engineering?"

"Negative."

"Reestablish the lines. Doctor McCoy, you are accompanying me to Engineering. Medical may be needed. Lieutenant Sulu, you have the conn." '

"Not so fast," came a new voice from behind them.

Everyone turned to see a man dragging Scotty beside him with a phaser pointed at the Engineer's head. He was around his thirties and had short, orange hair. There was scruff on his chin and upper lip. He was tall and built, like Giotto (or Cupcake, as Kirk called him); clearly he was strong, because he held a waking Scotty up with one hand. Behind him stood sixteen other men, all carrying phasers. Two of them were Redshirts; Spock recognized one to be Ensign Joshua Sean and the other as Ensign Percival Weston. The others wore a tan short-sleeved undershirt with dark blue scrub-like pants – the outfit of a prisoner.

No one had noticed when the turbolift had arrived, carrying the escaped prisoners and their hostage to the Bridge. In the chaos that the explosion had caused, they were able to travel from the Brig to here easily without anyone pausing to stop them.

"Don't try anything," warned the leader. "You're outgunned and outmanned, even with your precious Vulcan over there. Anyone even move a finger and you're dead. Am I clear?"

He nodded to his comrades and they moved cautiously towards the Command crew. They always had one man point their phaser at a crew member while the other tied them up with ropes and chains, in Spock's case. Scotty was thrown mercilessly next to McCoy who shifted so that he caught most of the Engineer's dead weight. He had blood dripping down his face and McCoy could feel worry eat at him. Head wounds were always tricky and they often bled more than other injuries, but he couldn't fully assess how hurt Scotty was unless he had his hands free and the man awake. By the sounds of Scotty's growing groans, McCoy guessed that he'd be in a world of pain in a few minutes.

"What is it that you want?" Spock asked, his emotionless voice coming out as cold when he was forced to sit down beside his captured friends at the helm.

"Isn't it obvious? We want this ship."

"Your faces and names are well known in the Federation. Your infamy will not allow you to maintain control of this vessel for long, Mark Smith."

"Oh, you know who I am?" smiled Smith.

"You were convicted of several counts of murder as well as espionage. As such, you were sentenced to a two-hundred and three-four year sentence on the penal colony Tantalus V."

"I see that the Vulcan memory isn't exaggerated, but you're a little dumber than I expected. Of course I don't plan to keep the Enterprise. I'm not stupid. Flying around in the Federation's Flagship is like putting a giant bulls-eye on my back. I ain't having that. No, I'm going to get me and my boys to a planet in the Cardissian system and well, let's just say that that's as far as the Enterprise is gonna get," Smith smirked and turned to a younger, emancipated man with silver hair – a Redshirt. "Weston, get your ass over there and start navigating this thing."

Weston nodded and quickly took Sulu's seat. With no hesitation, he immediately bypassed Sulu's passwords and began inputting in coordinates. It was clear that Weston was the one that had done Smith's dirty work – he was the one to implant the code and had probably transfigured something in Engineering to be able to override the codes that were too difficult for him to handle. Security was especially tight when a seventeen-year-old Russian genius and a Vulcan worked together. There was no other option, which was why they both had to be kept within sight.

The Enterprise began to hum as she went back online and started to move, albeit slowly.

"So, you got what you wanted. What are you keeping us around for?" snarled McCoy.

"You've got guts, Doctor. It'll kill you one day."

"Seems like I'm gonna die either or, so might as well die defiant 'til the end."

The man standing beside Smith started chuckling.

"Something funny, Sean?" spat McCoy, eying the man in the Redshirt. Damn it. He had treated that guy for a broken finger just the other day!

"Yeah, it's just interesting that you would be exactly like Kirk in his last moments. Defiant. He was still trying to save Lieutenant-Commander Scott when he couldn't even see straight."

Everyone in the Command crew stiffened.

McCoy hissed. "What are you saying?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Sean smiled wickedly, "I am sorry to inform you that Captain James T. Kirk was caught in an unexpected explosion in Engineering today."

Smith's grin matched Sean's. "In other words, your precious Captain is dead."

 Jim wasn't dead. Not by a long shot, but he did get knocked out, though he wasn't quite sure for how long. He hissed as he struggled to pick himself up from the floor. Breathing in all that ash was bound to set off some sort of reaction and Jim just didn't want to hear that particular lecture from Bones. He groaned as his shaking limbs gave out on him again and he collapsed heavily against the ground.

"Damn it…" he breathed, closing his eyes as he tried to categorize his injuries.

Everything hurt. He had been so close to the explosion that he didn't have much time to throw himself to the side and hide behind another console. He hadn't expected a chain reaction and couldn't fully protect himself when his shield burst into flames as well. He was blown a few feet away from his original position to where he was now. The brunt of his wounds was concentrated on his back – luckily, he had escaped anything severe…well, he hoped. He was sure that there were a few burns and lacerations from the flying shrapnel – those he could handle easily, but there was also a deep, aching pain towards his lower right back. He had felt that kind of fire before – it was synonymous to that time he was stabbed. Shit. Had a piece of shrapnel managed to get buried in him?

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he reached behind him to grope blindly at the wound. His fingers came into contact with a large, jagged piece of metal. Fuck…this was going to hurt – even more so than his throbbing head.

"Greetings, crew of the Enterprise," came a voice on the loudspeaker. "This is your new Captain. There's been a change of command and destination. I would just like to tell you all that if anyone decides to try anything, I will kill one member of your crew every ten minutes, starting with your beloved Command. I hear Vulcans bleed green. I'd be happy to see if that's true."

There was annoying, chastising laughter that made Jim grit his teeth in fury.

"That's all. Good day and go burn in hell."

Fuckers…if anyone was going to burn in hell, it was going to be them.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins and without hesitation, Jim jerked out the impaling metal in one swift motion. He bit back the scream that followed and breathed heavily as he tried to blink out the flashing lights in his vision. But the pain was good. The pain cleared his head and made his mind begin to turn so quickly that it would have made anyone else dizzy.

Agonizingly, he forced himself up and staggered back to the burning console. His vision blurred and he was sure that he was leaving blood trails, but he didn't care. His crew was in danger, his ship was damaged. He had to do something.

Eying the panel before him, Jim reached forward and pulled out several wires, twisting and crossing them before reconnecting it. Then, he moved on to grab the PADD that was connected to the console and angrily started typing on it. After a few minutes, he proofread the enormous code that he had programmed before inserting it into Enterprise's system. Satisfied, he pushed himself onward, leaning against the wall for support.

He could barely see, but he knew this place like the back of his hand. Two more feet and he knew that his knee would bang into something metal. Grinning, he reached down and numbly unscrewed the gate to the vents.

It was time to show those felons that you didn't mess with James Tiberius Kirk or the people he cared about.

Heads were going to roll.

 "Hikaru, do you think that Keptin is dead?" whispered Chekov, his thin voice broken and choked with emotion.

"Of course not," Sulu replied hurriedly, "Kirk always has something up his sleeve."

"Jim Kirk does not die easy," McCoy said back in hushed tones. "Y'all know that better than anyone. It'll take more than a simple explosion to kill him."

Uhura nodded. "Scotty said that Jim wasn't completely knocked out when they left. That would still give him plenty of time to scramble for cover."

"Ah bet my entire supply o' Glenfiddich scotch whiskey tha' Jim'll figure somethin' out."

McCoy smirked. "Did you see the expressions on those bastards' faces when we didn't react to what they said about Jim? Priceless."

"Clearly, they don't know anything about our crazy-ass missions," snorted Sulu. "How many times has it been when someone said Kirk was dead and he was far from it?"

"Eleven," replied Spock. "The last time, Captain Kirk was found to be playing an alien form of Roulette while drinking merrily with his 'captors'."

Leonard smirked. "Jim can't resist being in the spotlight. He'll come. And he'll be obnoxious about it too."

"Shut up!" shouted Smith from the Captain's chair. "Your Captain's dead!"

"Did you actually see him die?" asked Sulu.

"Did ya see him blow up?" prompted Scotty.

"Did you find the Keptin's body and see if he is still alive?" questioned Chekov.

Smith bristled, "No, but…"

"Then you can't actually say that he's dead," Uhura interrupted. "Sure, the probability of him dying is high, but you forgot to factor in something."

"And what is that?" snarled Sean, stepping menacingly forward. He didn't daunt anyone though.

Spock finished their tirade. "He is James Tiberius Kirk. For reasons that escape me, the laws of logic do not apply to him."

The rest of the Command crew almost burst out into laughter at Spock's words.

"Then let me rest any doubts you may have." Sean squatted down before him so that he was at eye level. "Kirk couldn't even move seconds before the console blew up. The blast would have set off another explosion of the surrounding consoles. Anyone who was in a ten foot radius of the bomb would have died, and your Captain was inches away from the origin. What is the probability of him surviving? Hmm? Logic that out."

"The probability is less than 1.26%," Spock responded.

"See?" grinned Sean.

"But you fail to understand that that means Jim has a 1.26% chance of surviving. And that's more than enough for him," retorted McCoy.

"You guys have obviously lost your minds from the grief," sighed Sean, shaking his head as he straightened and turned back to face Smith.

"Ain't denial such a beautiful thing?" chortled Smith.

"Be careful…" warned Sulu. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

"Then it's fortunate that I'm not a religious man. Now shut up or we'll shoot you in the knees. I'd rather hear you moaning."

But Smith really should have listened, because in the next moment, there was a crackle of static and then suddenly, Jim's voice was broadcasting all over the ship, echoing resolutely.

"To the felons currently occupying the Bridge, this is Captain James T. Kirk speaking. I would like to commend you in your surprising abilities to overcome my crew. It's a feat in itself to take down my command, let alone take over the Enterprise. Too bad it's not going to work."

The sarcasm and patronizing edge in Jim's words were not lost and the Command crew merely gave the felons a "I told you so" grin as Jim kept talking.

"You made three mistakes. The first is underestimating me. Seriously? I'm James fucking Kirk and you don't even bother to check if I'm actually unconscious or just faking it? And then you leave me alone in Engineering. But then and again, I don't think you realized that, aside being the best fucking Captain in Starfleet, I'm also a bit of an engineering genius. Don't feel too bad. Not many know that I'm a man of many talents. The little rerouting you attempted to make by blowing up a part of the control panel has been reversed and I've actually added my own changes to it."

Smith shot a look at Weston who had run around and was now frantically punching in codes at Chekov's station, but his efforts to open a sub-route around Kirk's codes failed at every turn. There were too many layers, too many complex pathways that Weston couldn't even make heads or tails of what was in front of him.

"Weston, what's your status?" barked Smith. He stood, his hand fingering his phaser.

"I can't bypass his codes! This is at least twenty times more complex than the original and some of these programs aren't even Terran!"

Chekov and Sulu shared a smirk. Though they were surprised, something like this was somewhat expected of Kirk nowadays.

Jim continued in that same gleeful tone that made McCoy want to stab his best friend with a hypospray. He knew what that voice meant. Jim was planning something, and he knew he wasn't going to like it.

"I'm sure your 'clever' hacker has just informed you that he can't get past my firewalls. My programming tends to be too advanced for minds like his, so don't be too disappointed in him. It's not his fault that he's just not on par to our standards, which, might I add, is set by a seventeen-year-old. You should have known that it would take much more than your third-rate hacker to even make a dent in our firewalls."

"Your second mistake was trying to take over my ship. Did you really think it would be that easy? To make my command crew lay low on the Bridge of all places and still expect this to be smooth sailing? You see, I'm a bit of a tactical mastermind as well and as my crew can tell you, I'm quite the creative one. Well, you'll experience that personally soon enough."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the subtle hint that Jim had given them. Slyly, he caught Nyota's eye. In an instant, she understood the silent message that the Vulcan was trying to send her. She nodded and nudged Chekov and Sulu beside her while Spock did the same to McCoy and Scotty. Slowly and surreptitiously, the command crew maneuvered themselves around their bindings so that they lay on their stomachs, flattening their bodies to the ground in preparation for whatever their insane Captain was planning.

"Your last and worst mistake, my dear gentlemen, was that you tried to and succeeded in hurting some of my crew. And for that," Kirk's cheery voice suddenly turned cold and dripped with venom, "I'm coming for you."

The announcement abruptly cut off and the felons glanced at each other warily. Spock noticed that their body language had tensed and everyone but Smith was 87.3% more nervous than before. Their fingers had subconsciously tightened around the trigger of their phasers.

Then, suddenly, the Bridge was sent into a state of darkness and the felons sprang to their feet, crowding around each other. Jim had no doubt cut the power. Spock had no idea why, but even in the blackness, his sharp Vulcan eyes could see that Jim's actions had made their captors afraid and unsettled – more prone to making mistakes.

There was a whirling noise. The command crew snapped their heads towards the familiar sound of the turbolift working. Confusion now filled them. Even Jim wouldn't be foolish enough to just attack head-on…but then and again, this was James Kirk they were talking about. They wouldn't put it past Jim to pull it off.

The felons gathered towards the entrance and raised their phasers, pointing it expectantly at the turbolift. As it slowly started to open, their postures became more rigid as the adrenaline rushed through their bodies. The doors flung wide open and the sudden burst of bright lights blinded the armed men for a split second.

In that exact same moment of distraction, a shadow dropped down from the vents, landing lightly and silently by the Captain's chair. With the lighting provided by the empty lift, the command crew easily recognized their Captain who was just wearing the blacks of the Starfleet uniform. Without sparing his crew a glance, Jim straightened and took a couple of steps forward, standing unnoticed behind the felons.

The lights of the turbolift suddenly vanished as the doors closed once again, plunging them all into darkness just as Jim's pre-recorded voice came overhead again.

"Oh, there's one more thing I forgot to say…"

Jim waited for dramatic effect and then leaned over Weston's shoulder.

"Boo."

Weston let out a yelp at Jim's breath against his ear and accidentally shot his phaser, hitting one of his teammates. Thinking that it was Jim who was attacking, the rest of the felons started to fire blindly into the dark as well. McCoy let out a quiet curse when a wayward shot hit the wall a few feet above his head. If they hadn't been lying down because Jim told them to, they would've been caught in the crossfire.

In the chaos that ensued, grunts of pain could be heard as flashes of the phaser shots gave the command crew snapshots of bodies falling to the ground. They held their breath, hoping that none of those thudding sounds came from their friend and Captain.

The ambush ended as quickly as it started. Harsh breathing was the only sound that could be heard now.

Then, "Computer, lights at 100%," Jim commanded.

The Bridge was bathed in lights and the command crew had to blink a few times to adjust. Before them, the sixteen men that had taken them by surprise lay in various positions all over the floor near the lift. Some stared lifelessly at the ceiling while others writhed in pain from phaser wounds or physical attacks, no doubt from Jim.

Smith had it worst. Jim was standing over him, his foot planted firmly on the felon's back between his shoulder blades, pressing him against the hard floor. The Captain had Smith's phaser in his hand, pointing it directly at the man.

"You're lucky that I'm a nice guy, Smith. Otherwise, you'd be dead by now." Jim cocked his head slightly, his blue eyes shining far too brightly with adrenaline, "But then and again, you threatened my crew. You'll pay for that."

And then he fired without hesitation. Smith slumped to the ground boneless, much to the surprise of his friends.

Clearly satisfied, Jim casually tossed the phaser aside. "He's really lucky my phaser was set to stun," he said as he stepped around the felons to reach his crew.

Squatting down before them, he shook his head. "Come on, guys. We've taken down Romulans and Klingons before. Aren't you ashamed to have been captured by the likes of them?" Jim joked as he reached into his right boot and pulled out a knife.

Uhura looked baffled. "You hide a knife in there?"

Jim just smirked, "Want to know what else I have hidden on my body?"

"No," Uhura said quickly, ending what was bound to be a sex joke, and rolled her eyes.

He released Scotty first, who gratefully used his free arms to wipe away the blood dripping down the side of his head. "Ye got good timin', Jim."

"Not good enough, apparently. Sorry I couldn't stop them from hitting you on the head," Jim replied softly, cutting through Bones' bonds so that the doctor could whip out a tricorder to treat the Scottish engineer.

Scotty just shook his head. "Same 'ere…"

He then moved on to Spock, who helped release Nyota, and Sulu who then freed Chekov.

Jim straightened, glancing back at the men sprawled around. "Commander Spock and Lieutenant Sulu, get these men off my Bridge and into the brig," he said, his voice taking on his "Captain tone" that made everyone snap to attention. "Chekov, reprogram the Enterprise. Weston had some tricks up his sleeve, so I had to insert codes to make the Enterprise respond to my commands only. It's a little complicated, but it's nothing that someone of your caliber can't handle."

He turned to his Communications Officer, "Uhura, once he's finished, send out an all-clear, but only after we're sure that Spock and Sulu have them secured in the brig. I don't want a repeat of what just happened. There's only so many times that I'll climb through those damn dusty vents for you guys."

"Aye, Captain!" they saluted, a smile on their faces before they went off to obey him.

When they had gone to their respective stations, Jim frowned at Bones administering first aid to his Chief Engineer. "Bones, how's Scotty? There was a lot of blood when he first got hit."

"He'll be fine. No concussion or anything. Just a scratch."

Jim visibly relaxed. "Good. Scotty, if you feel up to it, head down to Engineering and fix our girl. I didn't have much time so I just did what I could to patch her up. It won't hold for long though."

Scotty sprang up, ignoring Bones' quiet cussing. "Aye, Capt'n! I'll have 'er perfect before ye know it."

Jim smiled at his friend's enthusiasm and watched quietly as Scotty scurried past him to hit the turbolift where Spock, Sulu, and the piled felons waited for Chekov to reroute the Enterprise.

McCoy stared at Jim, thinking hard. Something was off. The Jim he knew was cocky and when he could showcase his bouts of ingenuity, he liked to preen about it. But this Jim seemed more content to watch his crew bustle about obeying his commands. And he didn't even attempt to offer a hand to help the doctor up. Jim always helped, especially because he was such a tactile person.

"Jim, you alright?" asked McCoy, standing and leaving his medical supplies on the ground.

Jim turned. His blue eyes were too bright for McCoy's liking and he was holding himself in a manner that favoring his right side, though he seemed absolutely normal to an untrained eye.

"Bones, do we have anyone else injured?"

He shook his head. "Not that I know of."

"I passed by the Sickbay when I was crawling through the vents. I think Nurse Chapel and the rest of the medical staff were locked in because I messed with the codes. Hopefully, Chekov will fix it quickly." Jim's voice held an odd tone to it, as if he sounded thoughtful, but Leonard was stuck on a specific part of his sentence.

"Crawled through the vents…" McCoy repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. He could've kicked himself. How did he miss the first time Jim said that?! "Dammnit, Jim! You're allergic to almost every variant of dust! What if you have an allergic reaction?!"

McCoy jerked around and rifled through his medical kit, looking for a hypospray filled with something that wouldn't kill his best friend.

"Bones…"

"Does your throat feel tight? Are you having problems breathing?" McCoy asked instead, cutting Jim off.

"Bones…"

There was a choked need in that one word and Bones felt a cold panic take over his chest. He turned; his eyes widened at the sight of the small pool of blood at Jim's feet. Reacting more on instinct than anything, he jumped forward, just as Jim collapsed into his arms.

"Jim! Jim! Where are you hurt?!" McCoy rushed, catching the attention of everyone around them.

Jim's face was buried into Bones' shoulder and he murmured, but nothing that McCoy could make out. He started to lower Jim gently to the ground when his fingers touched a warm, wet patch at Jim's lower right back. Jim hissed and Leonard pulled his hand away to see crimson blood covering it.

"Shit! Dammnit, Jim! Why didn't you say something?! Spock, I need your help!" he shouted, his Southern accent coming out.

By the time the Vulcan was by his side, Leonard had already laid Jim down on his stomach and cut away his black shirt. Uhura had come around on his other side and used someone's uniform to pillow the Captain's head so that his face wasn't pressed against the floor of the Bridge.

When the last strips of Jim's black shirt fell away, Bones hissed when he saw the jagged wound bleeding profusely. The deep laceration was about two inches long and it looked as though something rusty had punctured Jim. There were burn marks around the small of his back and various scratches and bruises decorating his back.

"It seems the explosion that Jim spoke of was not to be taken as lightly as he indicated," Spock said.

"No shit, you damn hobgoblin!" snapped McCoy, already mentally cataloguing every single one of Jim's wounds. "Chekov, have you fixed the turbolift yet? I need to get Jim down to Sickbay. And unlock it, will you? Jim said something about actually putting it under lockdown."

"Almost," responded the Russian, "The Keptin incorporated some Wulcan codes that are wery hard to bypass. Giwe me one more second."

"Vulcan codes? When did he learn that?" frowned Sulu.

"Doesn't that require an in-depth knowledge of the Vulcan language? Does Kirk speak Vulcan?" asked Uhura.

"Now's not the time to talk about Jim's language proficiencies. Someone give me my bag. I gotta give him something before this gets infected."

Leonard's eyes never left Jim, but he held out his free hand expectantly while keeping his other one pressed on Jim's wound. Someone – probably Spock (because who else would know what was an antibiotic?) – pressed a hypospray into his hand. He checked the medication before releasing it against Jim's neck.

"I got it!" shouted Chekov as the turbolift whirled into action.

In seconds, Jim had been bundled up into Spock's arms and rushed to Sickbay, leaving Sulu, Uhura, Scotty and Chekov on the Bridge.

The four of them looked at each other, slightly overwhelmed at the whirlwind that their Captain had caused, and stared at the convicts that were still clumped by the turbolift.

In moments, a security team was called up and the criminals were removed from the Bridge.

About an hour of recovery later, it was as if the felons had never even escaped.

 Six hours after the whole entire escaped prisoner fiasco, Jim was sitting up in a biobed with his patented "eat-shit" smirk on his face. Now that it was Beta shift, his Command crew had used their free time to check up on him. Sulu and Chekov stood at the foot of his bed with Scotty and Uhura on either side of the two; Spock was posted at his right side, his posture straight like a soldier. Bones was sitting on his left side, his fingers pressed against the upper bridge of his nose as he tried to look for what little patience he had left.

"So let me get this straight," Bones started, "You managed to dodge the main explosion while concussed. Then, bleeding and burned, you rewrote the entire code for the Enterprise in a matter of minutes while simultaneously fixing parts of the burned wiring so that the ship would still function properly. You then proceeded to crawl through hundreds of feet of vents, some completely vertical, and took down sixteen armed men by yourself, who, may I add, was already injured with a two inch puncture in his back and unarmed. Did I get that all right, Jim?"

"Well, I have to admit, wiring the Enterprise to only listen to my commands was all that I had actually planned. The rest I came up with seconds before I started my broadcast."

"You winged it?!" shrieked Uhura. "All of it? How is that even possible?! You got them to take each other out with a plan that you figured out within seconds?"

"It was more like a minute, but yes, I didn't exactly have much time. And I'm a brilliant man. We all know this," winked Jim.

"I would like to know how you were able to complete the engineering tasks without any prior training," Spock said. "Though crude, I cannot deny the ingenuity of your programs."

Scotty looked confused. "Ye weren't aware tha' Jim could do tha'?"

"I had no knowledge that Jim knew more than the elementary basics of engineering."

"Same here," muttered Sulu. "But why am I not surprised?"

"Jim 'ere is easily the best Engineer ah have ever met, second to me, o' course."

"I took a couple of advanced Engineering classes back at Starfleet," explained Jim. "I was always good with machines. I mean, I built an old-fashioned motorcycle from scratch. And, I was bored. Bones had gotten busy with clinic work so I needed something to fill up my evenings."

Sulu let out a low whistle and Chekov's eyes sparkled as he worshipped Jim more. And Jim just grinned broader.

"Unbelievable…" groaned Uhura. "He's going to be insufferable for the next week."

"Tell me about it," snorted McCoy. "But he's your problem after tomorrow."

"You're a terrible, terrible man," Uhura retorted.

Leonard grinned. "I know."

Jim rolled his eyes before suddenly sitting up straighter when a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Oh, and can someone retrieve Scotty's PADD? I think I left it up in the vents. I couldn't exactly bring it down with me to a fight."

There was a sigh of frustration. "Damnnit, Jim! I can't even figure out how you managed to fit in there in the first place!"

"Keenser will do it," said Scotty. "He knows the vents just as well as ye do, Jim."

"Which is another question of itself," added Sulu.

Jim flashed a wink at Chekov. "Chekov knows the answer to that one."

Chekov smiled and nodded, almost bouncing on his feet. "Keptin and I had a race of who could trawel through the wents the fastest."

"Why?" Uhura asked in disbelief.

"Why not?" shrugged Jim.

"I von!" shouted Chekov.

Jim chuckled. "Any other questions?"

"How do you know Vulcan codes?" Spock questioned, his tone completely serious.

"I like puzzles and Vulcan programs are basically labyrinths within labyrinths. It was intriguing, so I learned how code them. I used to create Vulcan programs just to trip up my professors. Haven't done them in a while though. Probably was pretty easy to penetrate through those firewalls, huh?"

It wasn't and Jim knew that they knew it, not that he'd show it. He got a kick out of seeing the expressions of people when they had completely underestimated him.

Spock's eyebrow rose. "Fascinating."

"Alright, alright," McCoy said gruffly as he stood, "Everyone out. He may be a genius, but he's an idiot that needs to rest."

Jim beamed, "Aw, Bones. I didn't know that you thought so highly of me."

In a movement faster than Jim could trace, Bones had jabbed a hypospray into his neck. "Wha…?"

And then he fell back against his pillow completely unconscious.

Bones pocketed his handy hypospray and rolled his eyes. "After all that, you get taken out by a hypospray?" He shook his head fondly as he ran his fingers through Jim's short hair. "You ingenious idiot."

Chapter Text

II

A Magician Never Reveal His Secrets

It was supposed to be a routine mission. All they had to do was beam down, compile in-depth data on the newly found planet and its inhabitants, and report their findings to Starfleet. From the little information that Spock could find, they had discovered that these unnamed species of aliens were similar to humans and their culture was just on the cusp of full blown development and growth. Uhura had determined that their language was close to Terran Spanish, something that she was fluent in, so Jim reluctantly had to bring her along, just in case they couldn't communicate properly.

Kirk had originally planned to have a small landing party composed of Spock, Uhura, a couple of Redshirts, and himself, but Bones had somehow managed to get himself on that list, much to Jim's chagrin. Bones' reasoning had something to do with Jim still recovering from an allergic reaction from accidentally eating a peanut a couple of days ago. Either or, Bones wasn't quite ready to let Jim out of his sight, so Jim was forced to bring his grumbling best friend along.

Bones had grouched all the way to the transporter room and by the time they were ready to be beamed down, Jim was ready to punch his friend in the face. Only Spock's raised eyebrow had stopped him from doing so, saving him from getting hyposprayed and decapitated by a retaliating Bones before they transported down to the surface of the planet.

Their surroundings had been desolate – full of dry, cracked sand and arid heat. It didn't take long for the aliens to notice their presence. The primitive race had never seen technology more advanced than the creation of bow and arrow and had flipped out in panic at their arrival - a meeting that the team had wanted to avoid as it broke the Prime Directive. (Damn it, Jim was going to get scolded for this.). Uhura had acted quickly, speaking to them in a soothing tone. By then, they had already been surrounded by lethal looking spears, but thankfully, the aliens paused in their war rampage long enough to listen to Uhura. Her beauty had enthralled them and she easily captured their interest.

Jim had paid attention to their conversations mostly by watching the aliens' body language. He had barely made eye contact with a couple of the aliens when he realized that they were getting more agitated, but not to whatever Uhura was saying. They were staring at him and Ensign Franklin Vero who was standing beside him.

Spock and McCoy had both noticed as well and subconsciously shifted closer to Jim. Jim glanced at Vero and tried to figure out what about the two of them that was troubling the aliens. The Ensign had brownish hair and was about two inches taller than Jim as well. They looked nothing alike. Jim frowned, still unable to make any connections when Ensign Vero gave him a confused look. And then Jim connected the dots, but a fraction of a second too late.

There was a vicious cry and suddenly, one of the aliens sprang forward, stabbing his spear into Vero's neck.

Vero gurgled with surprise written in his dulling blue eyes before he collapsed onto the ground. Fury racing through his veins, Jim leapt into action. He stepped into the alien's space and quickly dispatched him with a few sharp jabs to his solar plexus.

And then it was a full out war.

McCoy and Ensign Carl Latissimer flicked out their phasers, shooting at whoever came near them; Spock and Jim had raced to Uhura's side and defended her as she tried to contact Enterprise with no avail, engaging in hand-to-hand combat with the aliens who were all shouting angrily. Within minutes, it became clear that they weren't interesting in anyone but Jim.

All their attacks had focused on their Captain and if Latissimer hadn't thrown himself behind Jim, Jim would've been killed by a spear to the back. Despair and anger filled Jim as he saw his comrade fall. Instantly, he raised his eyes to take in everything before him to calculate their chances of survival. He could see more aliens running to join in the fray and they were ridiculously outnumbered.

There was only one scenario where Jim could be sure that his friends would live.

He raised his arms in the universal sign of surrender and shouted loudly over the fray in the aliens' tongue, "I give myself up!"

Uhura snapped around, hissing, "What the hell are you doing, Kirk?!" She was too shocked and confused at what Jim was saying to even be awed by his ability to speak Spanish.

"They have something against blue eyes," he said back quietly, and then to the aliens, "Let my friends go. They have done no wrong. Let them go and I will go with you willingly. No more fighting!"

The leader lifted a hand and the aliens instantly stepped back.

"Jim, what the hell are you doing?!" growled McCoy, panting slightly from the exertion of dodging and fighting.

"Saving your asses."

A pause. "You mean, saving 'our' asses, right?"

Jim flashed McCoy his patented smirk, "Sure, Bones. Sure."

Panic flushed through McCoy and he reached out to grab Jim, but Jim smartly stepped away, only to be caught by Spock.

"Captain, what are you doing?" the Vulcan asked quietly.

Jim just ignored Spock. "I apologize for offending you, great leader. It was not my intention. My friends have no fault in this matter. Do what you will with me, but leave them alone."

"You are a demon! A devil! We will have nothing to do with your kind!" screeched an alien.

"You must die! You must be sacrificed! Or we will all suffer! You all must perish!"

"The others do not have the same colored eyes as I do. They will not participate in your ritual!" snarled Jim.

The leader raised his hand and silence fell. He approached Jim. "Your friends' fates will be determined at a later time. For now, you will come with us quietly, or we will kill them here."

Jim nodded and the aliens enclosed upon them. Jim was roughly torn apart from his friends, his arms tied behind his back and a rope around his neck. McCoy shouted loudly while Spock and Uhura struggled harshly against the bondages that were quickly being wrapped around them.

"Relax, guys. You'll be fine. Promise," grinned Jim before a burlap sack was shoved onto his head. Within seconds, he was dragged wordlessly away from his friends while the rest of them were pulled towards another direction.

They had been literally been overpowered, overmanned, to the point that even Spock could not manage to release himself to save their Captain. Instead, they found themselves thrown into an archaic iron prison with old-fashioned shackles. Their communicators had been dismantled and torn apart; their phasers destroyed and thrown into a fire.

Within the hour of them landing, the crew of the Enterprise was imprisoned – their future was bleak.

And the fate of Captain James T. Kirk? Unknown.

When Kirk's hood was lifted away, the first thing he saw were the same aliens that had captured him. Within seconds, he had taken in his surroundings. It seemed that he was being kept in some underground hideout; the crude walls were carved out of stone, the floor was dirt, and torches were hung around the room as a form of light. There were hallways that curved and were no doubt a maze – well, as far as Kirk could tell when he was blindfolded.

Now, he was placed in the center of a large room and tied to a pole. He tested his bindings, feeling the coarse rope chafe against his wrists, but the knots weren't too sophisticated. Jim had escaped from worse. All he had to do was create a diversion so that he could slip out and find his friends – that is, before the aliens decide to skewer, burn, or eat him for having blue eyes. What the hell was with that anyway? Why blue of all colors?

Jim could feel the guilt chew away at his insides. The two Redshirts he had brought down – Ensign Vero and Latissimer – were both young and inexperienced. He was sure that Vero had a fiancée that was commissioned on another ship and Latissimer was well on his way to become second-in-command of Enterprise's security. Giotto (Cupcake, Jim mentally corrected) had even taken the twenty-eight-year-old under his wing and the three of them had enjoyed a few poker nights here and there. Jim never liked the idea of sacrifice – he personally didn't feel he deserved such loyalty. He would have much rather be leaving behind than left behind, not that he could. Survivor's guilt was something that Jim was all too familiar with, and he hated it with such a passion that he felt a fire of anger erupt within him at how helpless and weak he was to stop it all.

And he would be damned if he let down Bones, Spock, and Uhura.

Keeping his eyes down so that the sight of the cerulean hues would not set off the aliens, Jim kept a close watch on his captors. They seemed to have split into three different factions – each fighting for the sake of saying that they had captured the "blue-eyed demon". After listening for a few minutes, Jim figured that the heads of these factions were actually brothers. There were jabs from one to the other about their mothers, but never about the father, so Jim assumed that they were half-siblings paternally. He strained to make out their fast speech, picking up words like "honor" and "kill". Ah…it kind of made sense now. In their culture, it must have been considered the highest honor to be able to capture and kill a blue-eyed demon, and now, the siblings were fighting over who could have the honor of saying that they caught Jim.

He grinned. Wreaking havoc was always one of his strong suits and he had more than enough information now.

"Hey!" he shouted in Spanish. "I heard that one over there tell his little friend that if he doesn't get this honor, he's plotting to off both of you in your sleep."

Anger yelling filled the small cavern and the brothers began to prod and push physically at one another now.

"The other one said that he's sleeping with your mother!" Jim continued. "He wants you to know that your mother loves him more than you, especially when he's holding her tightly in his arms."

"Don't listen to him!" exclaimed one of the brothers, "He's lying! He's a demon! He wants us to fight, brothers!"

"That's right, I'm a demon." Jim bared his teeth, "Which means I can read the darkest secrets hidden deep within your hearts. I speak only of the truth. Besides, he is only nervous because he has long planned for the demise of the two of you and your mothers, but not before he violently and viciously rapes them."

That pushed them over the edge. Quite frankly, Jim was expecting to have to put a lot more effort into picking at the strife between the brothers, but he was lucky to have caught them when they were already under such tense terms.

Roars of anger echoed against the stone walls and spears clashed. Bodies fell to the ground, covering the brown dirt with blood.

Jim dropped low, squatting down to keep out of view. Quickly, he worked at the ropes, tugging and relaxing at specific intervals to weaken the material. After a few minutes, he felt some of the twine snap and instantly, he pulled hard. The ropes broke apart and he was free.

The civil war was still going on around him and he leapt to his feet, throwing himself into the fray. There was so much chaos, so much bloodlust in the air, that Jim was easily able to sidestep his way through towards the singular exit. He was meters from it when he felt a sharp pain rake across his upper right arm. Hissing, he glanced at the wound and up at the person who incurred it, ready to defend himself, but it seemed that it had been a lucky hit and the aliens were still too occupied to notice Jim's escape.

The injury itself was shallow, almost like a paper cut, so Jim paid it no attention and pushed forward. He realized minutes later that he really shouldn't have underestimated how prone he was to danger. His vision had begun to blur and his breathing had become more difficult. Heat coursed through his body in flashes, making his muscles cramp and spasm. Even his sharp mind had begun to slow slightly, already shoving up barriers against the pain as he tried to detach himself from it.

Shit. The freaking blade had been poisoned.

Bones was going to kill him, but that was if Jim found him in time.

Jim used the wall as support and kept walking down. He had no idea where his friends were being kept, but he had learned long ago to trust his instincts, especially when it came to directions.

No matter what, he would find his friends, even if he was just a little bit too late for himself…

"Doctor McCoy, will you desist in pacing back and forth? I assure you that it will not pass the time any faster," said Spock. He was sitting in the center of their cell (he had deduced that it was four feet by six feet in seconds that they were placed there) in his familiar lotus position. At first, he had planned to mediate in order to grasp a hold on his emotions. This had been the fourth time that Jim had willingly put himself into a dangerous situation in order to protect others, which usually involved Spock, and the Vulcan felt an odd rush of anger, irritation, and worry that were supposedly completely illogical. However, his attempts at trying to understand the enigma that was James T. Kirk had been thwarted over and over again by McCoy's incessant mutterings and pacing.

"Shut up, you hobgoblin. I'll do whatever I damn well please. They have Jim and God knows that the hell they're doing to him!" snapped Leonard, "Why the hell did they target him and Vero anyway?"

Spock just raised his eyebrow, as if saying "beats me", if he actually used such colloquialisms. Meanwhile, Uhura, who was sitting beside Spock, kept her eyes glued to the floor as she thought back to the few seconds that she and Jim had conversed.

"Kirk said something about blue eyes and that he had offended them," she said slowly.

"Ensign Vero had genetically blue irises as well."

"So the aliens have an irrational prejudice against people with blue eyes. Figures that those pretty blues of Jim's would get him in trouble over and over again," snorted McCoy.

"In that case, what do you think they're going to do to him?" asked Uhura.

"Beats me. But Jim is mighty fine attached to his eyes. They're one of his best selling points. If anything he'll kick everyone's ass just so that he can use them to charm others again."

True to his word, in the next minute, the door slammed open, revealing Jim leaning heavily against the frame. His face was a sickly white pallor and covered in sweat, but he still smiled brightly at his imprisoned crew.

"Yes! I finally found you guys!" he exhaled, his tone slightly breathless, yet relieved.

"Jim, you alright?" Bones asked, concern overcoming his relief.

Jim waved aside Bones' question and staggered up to the bars. Using the metal as support, Jim reached out for Bones who readily rushed up to greet him. Bones' keen eyes caught sight of the shallow laceration on his friend's right biceps and opened his mouth to demand some answers.

"Not now, Bones," Jim rasped as his fingers enclosed on the Starfleet pin on Bones' shirt.

Spock's eyebrow rose in confusion at Jim's actions until the Captain fell heavily on his knees, blinking blearily for a brief second before pulling off his own pin. With shaking fingers, he nimbly inserted a sharp end from each of the insignias and twiddled around for a couple of minutes. There was an audible click and Jim smirked, jerking down on the archaic lock. It fell to the ground with a loud clunk.

"How do you know how to pick locks?" asked Uhura, her eyes wide.

"Genius farmboy, remember?" Jim laughed a little breathlessly as he struggled to his feet. "Besides, a magician never reveals his secrets…"

He swung the barred door open and stepped into their prison. Immediately, Spock turned around to give Jim better access to the manacles that bound his wrists together. Wordlessly, Jim unlocked Spock and let the metal fall before turning to Bones.

Shouts were beginning to echo down the hallway towards them and Spock glanced around, looking for a potential weapon. With a barely hidden grimace, Jim bent to draw out the knife he kept in his boot and tossed it to the Vulcan.

"Don't lose it," quipped Jim just as he released Bones and moved on to Uhura.

Once free, McCoy ran out of the prison cell and rifled through a box where the aliens had kept their possessions. Only their communicators remained, but that was all he was looking for.

"McCoy to Enterprise, do you hear me?" he said, but there was no response. He groaned, realizing that the stupid thing wasn't even working anymore. "Damnnit! What the hell did they do to these things? Jim, what can you do with this?"

Bones threw the communicator towards his friend, but Jim fumbled with it before dropping it in an unsuccessful catch. Uhura managed to snag it out of the air before it fell to the ground and broke to pieces.

Now, all three of his friends were staring at Jim, frowning. They all knew that Jim's reflexes were insanely quick. To not have been able to catch something as clunky as the communicator – it meant something was very, very wrong.

Within a few steps, Bones was already beside his best friend, scanning him with trained eyes, but he couldn't see anything past the small cut on Jim's arm. He was briefly distracted as the yelling aliens came rushing in with their swords and spears flashing.

Spock had been ready for them and with a few quick movements, he sent the first couple crashing to the ground, unconscious.

"Spock, don't let them cut you," Jim said with almost a resigned sigh, "Their blades are poisoned."

Bones' eyes widened and he whirled on Jim, gripping his left bicep tightly. Instantly, Jim sagged in his grasp, letting out a small, muffled sound of pain.

"Damn it, Jim! How long has it been since you've been poisoned?!" Bones demanded, shifting to help set his friend to the ground so that he was sitting comfortably against Bones' chest. He kept one hand on Jim's wrist to take his pulse – it was too fast and thready – and the other on Jim's thorax to count the blonde's respiratory rate that was much too shallow and quick for Bones' liking.

"What?" Uhura turned around, reaching out to touch Jim's forehead. "Leonard, he's burning up!"

"Shit! And I don't have my medkit on me! Jim, do you know what kind of poison they used?"

Jim shook his head and held out a trembling hand towards Uhura.

"What is it, Kirk?" she asked, confused.

"The communicator…give me…"

Numbly, she handed it to him. As quickly as he could with his fingers shaking, he took it apart to reveal the wires within it. With practiced ease, Jim stripped three of them and rewired a couple with some complex maneuvering amidst the bundles of wires. There was a spark. Satisfied, Jim reconnected the covering and smacked it once. The noise of static greeted them and Jim handed it back to Uhura with a smirk on his face.

"That should work now…"

The look of disbelief and doubt on her face would have been amusing if Jim could work his way through the fog of pain.

Suddenly, Spock was kneeling before them. "There are more soldiers coming. We must leave now if we are to escape."

His brown eyes settled on Jim's weak form and didn't even think before gathering his Captain into his arms. There wasn't even a sound of protest from Jim, which made Bones' heart sink. It was worse than he had thought, but he didn't have the time to check on his friend. Not when he was pushed to his limits to chase after a Vulcan.

Behind him, he could hear Uhura calling out to Enterprise on the communicator, but by the sounds of the static and her increasingly frustrated words, there was some sort of jamming signal that prevented them from connecting with Chekov. It was baffling. These aliens had spears and bows, but yet they had something that prevented even the Enterprise from communicating with them? Spock figured that it had to do with their atmosphere being slightly negatively charged – it was probably enough to distort any radio or electrical waves that were transmitted from Starfleet's flagship.

They rambled down the stone hallways, turning and stopping at various points to avoid detection.

"Do you know how to get out of here, hobgoblin?"

Ignoring the name that McCoy used, Spock merely nodded. "I had memorized the exact path when they brought us in. We are almost out."

There was a hesitant pause as Spock glanced down at Jim. The Captain's eyes were closed and his right hand was weakly clutching Spock's shirt in what he deemed as pain. Jim hadn't made any noise during the entire time and he was shaking more. Even Spock could feel the heat radiating from Jim through his shirt. It didn't take someone with as high of an IQ as Spock to know that Jim needed medical care, and soon.

"Doctor…" he started to say.

"I know," McCoy interrupted tersely, his worried expressions on the borderline of panic, "But we gotta get outta here and find some shelter before I can help him. Or better yet, get us back to Enterprise. There isn't much I can do without any of my supplies. Hell, I don't even know what poison they gave him! And with his luck, he'll end up being allergic to it!"

Spock nodded with a tint of concern in his dark-brown eyes. "I recall a cave located approximately 1.2 miles away from here. I suggest we make haste before the aliens are able to assemble a party to chase us."

"Lead the way, hobgoblin."

McCoy and Uhura were slightly bent over, their hands on their knees as they panted heavily to catch their breath again. Their sides burned with each gulp of air as they struggled to regain their strength. McCoy was sure his muscles were going to hate him the next day and he had that damn Vulcan to blame. It wasn't that the good doctor wasn't out of shape. In fact, he enjoyed the occasional jog, as did Uhura, but to keep up with a worried Vulcan? It would be difficult even if it was Jim.

Speaking of which, McCoy watched as Spock gently lowered Jim down onto the hard ground of the small cave. The crevice in the mountain wasn't deep, but its entrance was hidden from view by a few well-placed trees and bushes. Though it was damp and cold, it was the best that they could manage so far.

The moment Jim's body touched the floor, he quickly curled in on himself. His fingers clutched at his sides as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself. He was gripping so hard that his knuckles were turning white and his nails were digging into his flesh. There were driblets of blood on Jim's lower lip where he had been biting himself, no doubt to muffle any sounds.

Noticing the self-imposed injury, Spock immediately rubbed a comforting hand against Jim's cheek. "Jim, cease biting yourself."

Jim's only response was a small, muffled sound.

McCoy knelt down beside his friend, his skilled hands probing and checking Jim for obvious injuries. He lightly pressed against Jim's chest and the latter released a loud hiss.

"You have a couple of cracked ribs, Jim. We gotta straighten you out or you'll put pressure on them," McCoy said gruffly.

With obvious difficulty, Jim obeyed, keeping his eyes squeezed shut the entire time. This time, he couldn't keep back a choked moan, let alone keep the pain off his face. He felt too hot, like everything inside was burning and liquefying. Every movement sent sparks of stabbing agony racing up and down his nerves. And the fires only grew more and more, making the pain grow with each passing second.

Jim was no stranger to pain. He hadn't had the best childhood, growing up with that bastard of a stepfather, Frank, and surviving Tarsus IV. And that didn't include all the various times he had been captured and tortured while in Starfleet. But this experience…it was the icing on top of the cake. He could feel himself cracking with each passing second. His mind couldn't focus; he couldn't breathe. The pain had taken command of his everything.

"B-bones…" he whispered, opening his dull blue eyes to plead with his friend, "Make it s-stop…"

There was a grief on Bones' face that was so strong it almost made Jim nauseated, that was if he could feel anything past the fires consuming his body. "I'm sorry, Jim. I don't have anything with me, but we'll be back on Enterprise soon and you're gonna be fine. You hear me?"

Jim just whimpered, letting his head sink back down onto the ground.

"Goddamn it! Work!" came a frantic scream from Uhura. There was nothing but static still coming from the communicator. Tears welled in her eyes as she glanced over at Jim's shaking body. Her friend and Captain was lying on his back, his head Bones' lap, and his face pressed against his friend's stomach. She could hear him struggling to breathe from where she stood; she could hear the muffled whimpers even as Bones drew Jim closer in to him.

Then she saw Spock. The Vulcan's expressionless face had twisted. There was fear and panic within his usually stoic features. He grimaced every time Jim's muscles spasmed, making his entire body twitch, ending with a groan. She could see his hands reach out in an attempt to help, but fall helplessly at his side, clenched into tight fists.

She felt her heart sink. This was it…their friend – no, brother – was going to die in front of them and there was nothing they could do but watch.

Then there was a slight change in the static, making Spock's head snap up towards her.

Instantly, she raised the communicator up to her lips, "Uhura to Enterprise. Come in Enterprise! Please!"

"…-hura…sig-…jam…" came the broken voice. "Two…sec-…" And then a heavenly voice filled the cave. "I got it!" Chekov's voice broke through. "Enterprise here."

"Four to beam up! Now!" she snapped. "Kirk needs medical attention immediately!"

"Ah have ta reroute the transporter around the jammin' signal. Give me five minutes," said Scotty.

Right then, Jim's back arched completely off the floor, his mouth open in a silent scream. His hands grasped wildly for anything that could ground him.

"Jim doesn't have five minutes!" McCoy yelled from where he sat, "Beam us up!"

There was sound of clatter and loud cursing from the other end, but no one in the cave paid it any attention.

All eyes were focused on Jim who had managed to weakly grab Spock's bare wrist with his sweaty hands. He looked up pleadingly at the Vulcan – the once vibrant blue glazed. A single tear made its way down from the corner of Jim's eye to disappear into his hair near his ear.

"P-please, S-spock…" he gasped, "I c-can't…"

Spock's entire body went rigid at Jim's touch. A gasp escaped the Vulcan as his eyes went wide. Even with his shields up full, he could feel Jim's agony bleeding through, like a rampant wild fire that had grown so hot that Spock's body was reacting to it, threatening to fall apart too.

Without hesitation, Spock reached out, pressing the bundle of nerves around Jim's neck. Jim instantly fell unconscious, slumped in McCoy's arms. His grip on Spock loosened and his hand fell limply against his stomach.

And then there was silence.

McCoy looked at the Vulcan in confusion.

Spock could only shake his head. "He was in so much pain…" Spock whispered, horror in every word. "So much pain…"

And then familiar white lights surrounded them.

In the blink of an eye, they were back on board the Enterprise. McCoy could have kissed Nurse Chapel for standing at the ready with a stretcher, the medkit specific to Jim, and a small team of medical with her in the transporter room.

Instantly, he began barking orders as he jammed a hypospray into Jim's neck. Before Uhura could even react, Jim had already been whisked away to the Sickbay with McCoy close by his side. Usually, by then, Uhura would have felt a small wave of relief because Leonard wouldn't let Jim die. He couldn't. Jim was safe in McCoy's hands, but she felt nothing of the sort now. Not when Spock was still kneeling on the floor of the transporter pad in the same exact position he was in when he Vulcan pinched Jim into unconsciousness. Spock was frozen; his emotions leaking through. There was horror, panic, and worst of all, fear written in his eyes. Whatever he had felt when Jim touched him was haunting him, so what did that mean for Jim?

"Commander, are you alright?" asked Chekov.

Spock startled at Chekov's voice and looked up. Surprise was evident in his expressions before it was swiftly schooled into a cool mask.

"I am fine," he said quickly before standing up. "Lieutenant Chekov, please return to the Bridge and plot a course to the next system. We have compiled enough data on this planet to determine that the inhabitants are much too primitive for the Federation to even consider forming an alliance. Have us set off within ten minutes."

"Do you hawe a specific place in mind, sir?"

"No, but we are leaving this place as quickly as possible. Lieutenant-Commander Scott, you have the conn. If I am needed, I shall be in Sickbay."

Spock's words were curt and he almost ran out of the transporter room to follow McCoy.

Scotty and Chekov shared a frown before turning to Uhura for an explanation.

Uhura shook her head, tears in her eyes, "Kirk was poisoned…he didn't look good."

"He'll be alright, lass," said Scotty, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Trust me." He turned to Chekov, "Lad, you 'eard the Commander. Get yer arse to the Bridge!"

Chekov hesitated.

Scotty easily understood. "We'll keep ye updated on the Captain. Now get. Doesn't do us much good standin' around 'ere doin' nuthin'."

Uhura watched the young Navigator leave before doing the same herself.

Scotty didn't need to ask where she was going. He would have joined her to stand guard by the Sickbay himself if he hadn't had to run the ship. "Let us know when Jim's awake, a'rite?" he called after her.

"Of course."

And then she was gone as well.

The Engineer shook his head, muttering to himself. "What kind o' trouble did ye get yerself into this time, Jim?"

But as always, there was no one to answer his worries.

When Jim awoke, there was only darkness. There was no white ceiling of the Sickbay, no bustling nurses and clattering of medical equipment. There was no Bones hovering over him and scolding him like a child. For a brief moment, Jim actually thought that he was dead, but the fire within him had not yet subsided. It was less than before – when he had been burned alive in that damp cave – but it was still there. Needles were stabbing deep into his muscles, making them scream and yelp in agony. It was so hot, so agonizingly scorching, that Jim felt so cold, like he had been trapped on Delta Vega again.

He shivered, unable to stop his body's tremors, triggering a flare of pain. A small cry escaped his lips and he clenched at the blankets that lay over him. Suddenly, there was a comforting hand, caressing his face and soft murmurs that were all so familiar.

Jim opened his eyes and saw a disheveled Bones sitting beside him. He cracked a smile at his best friend. "B-bones…" he croaked.

"Hey, kid," Bones said back softly. "Welcome back to the living."

Another flash of agony and Jim couldn't stop his back from arching or the whimper that he let out.

Instantly, Bones was leaning over him, running his fingers through Jim's short hair. "Ssh…it's going to be alright, Jim. I'm sorry. I know it hurts, and I'm sorry. The poison the aliens used binds to the pain receptors in your body. Even with Spock's antidote, it'll take some time for it to flush out of your system and for those messages to stop being sent. You'll be fine in the morning, but for now, you'll have hang on, alright?"

Jim groaned, "Those f-fuckers…"

Bones let out a wet chuckle. "Yeah, those fuckers, but Spock was able to make an antidote real quick after I gave him a vial of your blood. If he was late by a few more minutes, we woulda lost ya, Jimbo. Don't want to admit it, but your hobgoblin really does come through in a crisis. I can see why you always insist that he beams down with you."

"I d-don't…Spock is the one…who in-insists…" Jim stuttered with a small smile, only to have it replaced with a grimace of agony.

Wanting to distract himself with anything, Jim let his eyes wander. He couldn't make out much past Bones' face and he felt confused. Sickbay was never this dark. Ever. It was just impossible with all the machines and equipment.

"Where am I?" he slurred.

"Your quarters. I figured that you'd want to be somewhere private while this thing runs its course."

Jim let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks…"

He let his eyes close as he tried to detach himself from the pain; his body would not cease trembling and a coldness had settled over him. He shivered and reached out blindly for his best friend. Bones would make it better…he always did.

"B-bones…c-cold…"

For a brief second, Bones' hand disappeared and Jim couldn't stop small wave of disappointment that rushed through him. He shouldn't have listened to what his past had written into his instincts because the next moment, the bed dipped and he felt Bones slip under the covers next to him and lightly pulled Jim towards him.

Jim pushed his face against Bones' chest, using his best friend to muffle any sounds that he was making. His fingers entwined within Bones' shirt and clenched ever so often when the pain reared its ugly head.

Bones just murmured quiet nothings into Jim's hair and continued to rub Jim's shoulder comfortingly. The doctor had helped warm Jim somewhat, but it wasn't nearly enough and Jim continued to shiver, his moans stifled against Bones shirt.

There was a hiss of the bathroom door opening and Bones glanced up to see Spock stepping in wearing his casual blacks. McCoy had almost forgotten that Jim and Spock shared a bathroom. Why that was, he would never know…

Within seconds, Spock had approached them, assessed the situation, and raised an eyebrow at Bones.

"I came to inquire about the Captain's condition," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is the antidote not working as it should?"

"It worked fine. He'll be all right by morning," McCoy responded, his words just as quiet. "Poison just gotta flush outta his system."

Spock nodded, standing awkwardly by the side of the bed.

Suddenly, a violent shiver racked Jim's body and a choked sound escaped his lips. Spock froze and cocked his head, as if trying to figure out what was going on.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "He's cold, you hobgoblin."

"Shall I retrieve another blanket?"

"It won't help much. His body is focusing on fighting the poison so it's not producing any heat. It's gotta be external."

"I see."

Then Spock disappeared, bending down.

"What are you doing?" asked McCoy.

"Is it not obvious that I am taking off my shoes?"

"I figured that, you dumbass. I'm asking why."

"Then you should rephrase your sentence more accurately next time around, Doctor."

"Would you shut up?"

Spock ignored him and lifted the corner of Jim's blanket and slipped into bed.

"What are you doing?" hissed Leonard.

"Vulcans have a much higher body temperature than humans. You informed me that Jim is in need of external heat. I believe that I can be of help."

As Spock pressed closer to the Captain, Jim made a contented sound and subconsciously moved closer to the Vulcan. McCoy opened his mouth to protest, but at the sight of Jim's face relaxing in increments, Leonard held his tongue. In minutes, the heat under the covers was overwhelming and Bones felt sweat dripping down his back, but it soothed Jim. His breathing slowed and gradually, he fell asleep wrapped up between his two best friends.

Bones smiled as he ran his fingers within Jim's hair again.

The worst was over.

The temperature in Jim's room had been raised five degrees to a sweltering heat. He had been propped up with several pillows on his bed and smiling like a fool as he watched (and enjoyed) Bones coddle him like a child.

"Bones, I'm fine," sighed Jim as Bones tucked the blankets around him again.

"Yeah? Lift your hand for me then."

Jim just gave him a smile, "You know I can't."

"Then shut up."

The poison had left Jim's system by daybreak, but it left him as weak as a newborn lamb. Even now, it took most of Jim's energy to keep himself upright. Still, the poison was gone and the fires were finally quenched. And for that, he was grateful.

When Bones finally looked content at Jim's tricorder readings, he settled down at Jim's desk with his PADD out and began typing up the reports he had put off while he was treating Jim.

After a few minutes of silence (well, silence on Bones' part), Jim had to break it. "Where did Spock go?" he asked. He remembered that Spock had, sometime during the night, crept into his bed. As awkward as it was to be sandwiched by his two best friends, he had to admit, he had been far more comfortable than he would ever say out loud. And he was extremely touched that Spock – a touch telepath – was willing to break all of his physical barriers to ensure that Jim was warm enough. It was the same with Bones, though Jim always knew that the doctor had a soft spot for him, as Jim did for him.

"The hobgoblin went to the Bridge for his shift."

Jim hummed. "I'll have to thank him later and apologize."

"Why apologize?"

"I shouldn't have touched him in that cave. I knew that he'll feel everything. Shouldn't have put him through that…"

"I don't think he'll hold you accountable for your actions, Jim. You were poisoned, remember?"

A pause. "Yeah…I remember…" Jim breathed.

Bones set down his PADD. "Do we need to talk about this, Jim?"

Jim leaned back and closed his eyes. "No. I was poisoned. It hurt. That's about it. This wasn't Tarsus, Bones. Not even close."

There was a knock on the door. Before Bones could snarl at the visitor to piss off, Jim called out tiredly, "Come in!"

The door slid open, revealing Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and Spock pressed around the narrow entrance.

Jim cracked a smile. "Hey, guys. Come on in."

They piled in and surrounded Jim's bed. Jim could read the worry off their faces and body language, especially when he made no move to sit up straighter or readjust himself so that he didn't as vulnerable as he did. They took in his pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, and his relative inability to do anything, for that matter, and their concern only increased.

"I'm fine," he sighed. "Relax, guys."

Uhura glared at him.

Jim rolled his eyes, "Fine, I'll be alright. Just need to recover for a couple of days and I'll be good as new."

"You know, I think we need to make it a rule that you're never allowed to beam down, Kirk," joked Sulu. "Ever."

"I second that," McCoy added.

Jim opened his mouth to argue back and no doubt run loops around them, but Uhura cut him off fast by changing the subject. "Kirk, how did you get out to come save us?"

"Escaping was a lot easier than you'd think. A few taunts here and there about one guy screwing the other's mother and before you know it, there's a sibling war for the title of chief. I escaped in the chaos, but some bastard got a lucky hit in. Didn't realize that the blades had been poisoned until I was halfway down the hallway to you guys."

"You started a civil war within minutes of being captured?" gaped Sulu. "Even you can't be that good."

Jim just gave them his shit-eating smirk.

Uhura rolled her eyes. "And where did you learn how to pick locks?"

"I spent some time in my early teens wandering the world. I picked up a few tricks here and there from odd jobs over the years."

"Let me guess, you worked as a magician at one point."

"I was an escape artist. I just say magician because it's less of a mouthful."

"And is that where you learned Spanish?"

"Nope. I learned Spanish as a bartender in Barcelona."

"Wait, Kirk is fluent in Spanish and Vulcan?" exclaimed Sulu.

"The Keptin is also fluent in Russian," added Chekov.

"Card shark in Moscow," explained Jim. "I spent the longest time there. I think it was about six months? So I guess I can pass for being a magician. I did learn some pretty neat tricks in Russia." He winked at Sulu and Chekov, "I'll show them to you next time we play poker."

"Captain, you stated that you traveled Earth in your early teenage years. Am I correct in assuming that you conducted your travels alone?" asked Spock.

Jim froze for a split second before his smiling, indifferent mask came back into place. "Yeah, I went off on my own. Winona sent me off-planet when I drove a car off a cliff and I was…unwelcome when I returned. So, I took off. People liked to hire me because I'm a genius and always learned fast, despite how young I was."

Instantly, they all knew that Spock had forced Jim to reveal more than he had intended because McCoy jumped into action, preventing any further questioning.

"Alright, everyone out. Our idiot of a Captain needs to rest," Leonard said gruffly.

"Genius. Genius of a Captain," Jim corrected, eliciting a few chuckles from his crew as they turned to leave.

"Wait, Spock. Can you stay for a minute?" asked Jim.

Spock merely nodded and waited for the final "hope you get better soon" murmurs from the rest of the crew as they left.

"Spock, I want to apologize. I shouldn't have grabbed your hand like that in the cave," Jim said.

"Apologies are not necessary, Jim. My barriers held strong and I was able to relieve you of your immense pain."

"Then thanks are in order. Thank you, Spock, for everything. I know it wasn't easy for you and I appreciate it."

Spock gave a short nod. "I believe the Terran saying is: 'thanks are not needed'. I was merely assisting a friend in need to the best of my abilities."

Jim beamed. "You're the best, Spock."

"That's enough emotion for the day," grouched McCoy, "Out, hobgoblin. Jim needs to sleep off the aftereffects."

"Understood. Please let me know if further assistance is needed."

McCoy snorted, "A Vulcan butler. Only Jim could make that happen."

Spock's eyebrow rose. "I was not offering my services in that manner, Doctor. I was offering my assistance in keeping the Captain on bed rest until he is fully recovered."

Now, Leonard looked confused. "Why? We're not in Sickbay where there're holes that Jim can slip through."

"While that is true, I believe that we may have to reassess the Captain's ability to 'skip town', as the saying goes. He has revealed that he spent some time as an escape artist, which increases the likelihood of him disobeyed strict orders to rest by 74.2%."

McCoy's eyes widened as he realized the full extent of what Spock was saying. He turned, meaning to threaten Jim, but Jim was nowhere to be seen.

"Damnnit, Jim!" snarled McCoy as he rustled around his belongings to find his comm and begin a ship wide search for their missing Captain. "How the hell did he get past us anyway?!"

Spock glanced over at Jim's bed when something small and white caught his attention. He took a few steps over and picked up the square piece of paper with a few words scrawled on it.

"Doctor," Spock called out and waited until Leonard was beside him to show Jim's note.

"A magician never reveals his secrets…"

That set off a stream of curses and bodily threats. Jim would come to regret pulling this escape on his best friend, but he simply couldn't resist after figuring out what Spock was about to say.

McCoy angrily pulled on his blue uniform over his black undershirt and stormed out, muttering "ingenious idiot" and numerous insults under his breath.

The Vulcan followed the doctor out and watched as he stomped down the hallway, snapping at every unfortunate soul that accidentally crossed paths with him. Spock looked down at the small sheet of paper in his hand and allowed himself feel amused by it, letting his lips quirk slightly upwards.

Ingenious idiot indeed…

(Jim was later found sitting on the Bridge, chatting animatedly with the Command crew and Scotty before McCoy and Spock both appeared to bring him back to his quarters to rest. Needless to say, the next time anyone saw their Captain was a few days later when he was completely recovered. It was another week before Jim even dared to be in the same room as McCoy who never failed to stab their genius Captain with a hypospray.)

Chapter Text

III

Don't Bite Off More Than You Can Chew

Jim's luck sucked, but you couldn't really blame him. The universe just liked to slap him and then kick him while he was down. In other words, Jim was the worst sort of trouble magnet in the entire universe, and that was saying something. Quite frankly, when Jim thought back to it all, he still wasn't quite sure how all this started. Their mission wasn't difficult and it didn't even require beaming off the ship. All they had to do was pick up a decorated Betazoid Ambassador from his home planet and bring him back to Starfleet for a universal world-peace summit. Simple, right? But in hindsight, the crew of Enterprise should've known that nothing was ever as easy as it seemed with James T. Kirk as their Captain. And this time, it was Jim that needed saving.

Jim had personally invited the Betazoid onto his ship and delegated a couple of Redshirts to show the Ambassador to his quarters. Soon after, Jim had returned to his seat on the Bridge with a frown on his face. He couldn't shake the dark, ominous feelings he had and he wasn't one to ignore his instincts. Something was off, but he couldn't seem to place it.

The Command crew had noticed their Captain's unusual silence, but couldn't pinpoint the cause.

"Captain," said Spock from where he sat at his console, "Is there something that is troubling you?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing much, Spock. Just..." Kirk paused, pondering. "Did the Ambassador seem weird to you guys at all?"

"Seeing how you and I were the only ones to greet him, that question is not applicable to the rest of the Command crew."

Jim rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, Spock. He didn't give me a good feeling."

"You were in his presence for 2.4 minutes. By what criteria are you using to determine what gives you a 'good feeling'?"

"Don't give me that, Spock. You felt it too! And don't tell me that I'm being illogical! Every fiber of my being is telling me that that guy is trouble."

Uhura swung around in her chair to face Jim. "Or you're just upset that he isn't a she," she teased.

"Quite contrary to beliefs, I can keep it in my pants, you know!" spluttered Jim.

"Not according to half the female population back at Starfleet Academy," Sulu joined in with a smile.

"You know that ninety percent of those are exaggerated rumors! Look, I'm serious! That guy is bad news."

Chekov gave him a smirk, "Are you sure that it isn't because you hate diplomatic exchanges, Keptin?"

Kirk threw his hands in the air. "It's mutiny, I tell you, mutiny!"

The crew (minus Spock) snickered, but they knew to trust their Captain's insight. It had saved them countless of times before. Even as they laughed, they felt the seed of doubt growing in their hearts. Spock thought back to his brief encounter with the Ambassador. The Betazoid held himself regally and behaved as he should. Yet, Spock remembered feeling slightly unsettled when he realized that the Ambassador's pitch black eyes never left him for a second. Not to mention that Spock felt as though there was a void surrounding the alien - as if there was a certain dark cloud encompassing him.

"It does not hurt to be sure of the Ambassador's status," Spock surrendered, "Lieutenant Uhura, please send all files concerning the Ambassador to me."

Uhura nodded, letting her slender fingers sweep across her console.

"Sulu, locate where the Ambassador is right now," Kirk commanded, "I want to know where he is at all times."

"Yes, Captain."

Jim turned to his First Officer. "Spock, the Ambassador psychically inclined, right?"

"All Betazoids are naturally born telepaths, Captain," Spock responded in a tone that almost seemed like he was lecturing a child.

Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I know that. I may just be a farm boy, but that much I know. I just want to know if the Ambassador is capable of psychic attacks."

At this, Spock tilted his head thoughtfully. "Unless the Ambassador is one of the few Betazoids who are born with their telepathic abilities active, I highly doubt that he will be able to cause any severe damage to psi-null humans such as yourself."

"And there is no indication that he is that powerful of a telepath, correct? He can't hurt crew members who aren't trained against such attacks?"

"Unless the Ambassador is not who he says he is, no."

Kirk gritted his teeth. "Chekov, hack into the Starfleet database and get a current picture of the Ambassador. I have a feeling he isn't who he says he is."

"Vhy do you say that, Keptin?" asked Chekov as he obeyed Jim's command.

"I didn't like the way he kept staring at Spock."

Silence fell and all eyes turned to look at him.

Jim actually had the decency to blush. "Not in that way, guys. Heads out of the gutter. It's just he looked far too happy to see Spock. I mean, seriously. It's just weird."

"Well, Spock is a pretty good looking Vulcan," grinned Uhura. "Jealous of a little competition, Kirk?"

Jim groaned in frustration. "It's literally impossible to get my crew to obey me, isn't it?"

"Oh, we obey," grinned Sulu, "Doesn't mean we can't make it difficult for you."

"Where's Scotty when I need him? He usually stands with me."

The cheery atmosphere was shattered when Chekov swallowed hard at the data in front of him.

"Uh oh..."

Jim instantly snapped to attention at Chekov's worried tone; his entire playful manner was replaced with confidence and strictness. "Elaborate, Lieutenant Chekov."

"I hawe found a picture of the Betazoid Ambassador, but he does not look like the man who came on our ship."

Chekov flicked his finger and let the picture of a large, rotund man with long dark curls come onto the screen. He was a far cry from the lanky, tall man with short, white hair that had come on board.

"Shit! Spock, red alert!"

"Too late," came a cold, drawl.

Jim heard the turbolift close before screams and yells erupted all around him. A sharp, probing pain burst within his head and he grimaced, unconsciously reaching to grasp his temples. Instinctively, he began to throw up more walls within his mind, protecting it from any further damage. Even with the stabbing pain, Jim instantly connected the dots to a psychic attack. Of course...it was just his luck. He really shouldn't have expected anything else.

He tilted forward, almost falling out his chair as he looked around him. Chekov had fallen to the ground, already unconscious. Sulu was lying not too far from the Navigator, his eyes slipping shut. Uhura had curled into herself with her back to Jim, but even without seeing whether or not her eyes were closed, Jim knew that she was in the same state as his crew.

Another thought passed through his mind. Alarmed, Jim sought out Spock, knowing full well that the Vulcan was also a telepath. His shields must have protected him or the attack could have done irreparable damage to the Vulcan. Jim sincerely hoped that it was the former.

Spock was still seated in his chair, just as Jim was, but his emotionless mask had been broken. The Vulcan had an intense look of concentration on his face and kept his right index and middle fingers pressed against his temple. It was obvious that the majority of the Betazoid's attack was focused on him, but he was still resisting and functional - that much Jim could tell. The unfortunate part was that it seemed that Spock was just as capable of moving as he was, which was pretty much limited to blinking and breathing.

Jim felt as if he was using all of his strength to turn around slowly, his entire body feeling numb and useless as his mind rallied against the intrusions. He glared at the Betazoid who stood a few feet in front of the closed turbolift. "So, who the fuck are you?" he snarled once he found the words, lashing out like a whip.

Surprise glittered in the Betazoid's dark irises. "I am astounded that you are still conscious, let alone coherent, Captain Kirk."

Jim couldn't help and smirk; it paid to keep his skill sets hidden from the rest of the world. "They don't call me the best fucking Captain in Starfleet for nothing. What the hell did you do to my crew?!"

"I merely arranged it so that they will not interrupt me as I speak to your Commander."

Spock gave the Betazoid a puzzled look. "I was not aware that we were acquainted."

"Forgive me, we aren't. I am called Z, Commander Spock. I have heard all about you and I could not resist meeting you in person."

"Oh, and why is that? You could've just sent a love letter, you know. It's much simpler. What did you do with the actual Ambassador?" growled Jim.

"Let us just say that the Ambassador had aged and was unable to resist my mind."

"You broke him, didn't you? To what end? Why Enterprise?"

"I have no interest in your petty little ship, Captain."

"Right then. I think I'm offended," Jim grouched. "What the hell did you come here then?"

Z took a step forward towards Spock. "I would like to get to know Commander Spock and his crew a little better."

The Betazoid paused, closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath. "Mmm...the hatred, the anger, and the sorrow that all your friends hold within their minds...it is simply delicious."

Jim's head snapped up, "You're feeding off their emotions?!" He paused, finally piecing everything together. "That's why you targeted Spock! After what happened to Vulcan, he's probably jackpot for you, isn't he?" More lines connected and he grinned ruefully. "But you can't access those memories, can you? Because you've never done any of your tricks on someone as trained and young as Spock. You can't penetrate his barriers."

The Betazoid's calm demeanor changed in a snap. Z's face twisted into a snarl as Jim's words struck the truth. "You will let me in, Commander Spock, or I will kill the rest of your friends with my telepathy," Z hissed. "And I can assure you that that it is within my capabilities."

Jim could see Spock contemplating his options, but he wasn't going to make Spock relive his worst memories again. It was too soon and too raw - he wasn't sure that Spock could regain his control over his emotions so easily again. Even as much as he hated and feared this, Jim knew the sacrifice he had to make. He could win over Z's hold on his friends and come out the other end mostly intact. He had done it before and despite losing all forms of innocence and naivety, Jim had emerged stronger and hardened. Spock, on the other hand, was still recovering from the loss of his mother and Vulcan while Jim's emotions were firmly locked behind double-bolted steel doors.

Honestly, he fervently wished that there was another option. The familiar icy feel of fear was already licking at him. He had spent years running from his past and now, he had to hand it all up in a silver platter. It was either that or be selfish and be left with an emotionally crippled First Officer. That ended so well the last time…

As much as Jim loathed to bring up the nightmares that haunted him - the carnage and misery that followed him everywhere he went - he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he willingly let Spock suffer. No matter how Jim looked at it, he had no other choice. He had to give himself up to protect his crew. Internally, he shakily steadied himself and began his onslaught.

"You're a dumbass, you know that?" Jim taunted. "Did you even stop to wonder why you can't read my mind either? And I'm human! I'm supposed to be psi-null, and yet, you can't access my memories. I've got to be hiding so much, don't you think?"

Spock's eyes flickered towards Jim, confusion written all over his "expressionless" face.

Jim ignored him. "Don't you want to see what I have stored up in here? I'm a Starfleet Captain! There's bound to be cesspools of anguish and anger. Probably more than everyone here combined. Why don't you give me a shot? Let the rest of them go and I'll give you my mind for free. I'll drop my barriers, no questions asked."

"Captain, what are you doing?" hissed Spock, alarm now coursing through him.

Jim ignored him. "I'll give you everything. From the very beginning," said Jim, determination making his blue eyes impossibly brighter.

"Interesting. I have heard of you, Captain James T. Kirk; I had not expected such stupidity from you. Nonetheless, I am intrigued. Very well. I shall release your friends if your memories satisfy me."

Jim gritted his teeth and rolled his shoulders back once, preparing himself for the hell that was soon to come. "Fuck...here goes nothing..."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled, letting down all the walls, shields, and locks that guarded his mind and nightmares. Instantly, he could feel Z probing and shifting through recent years - the overwhelming guilt of not acting fast enough to save Vulcan, the heavy burdens of sending his men to their deaths, the lives that he had taken and ruined from the very moment he sat on his chair...

There was a vague sense of satisfaction bleeding from Z and in that moment, Jim grabbed onto him with his mind.

Surprise, shock, and anger that did not belong to Jim tingled his nerves.

'You son of a bitch. You want anguish? I'll give you so much that you can't fucking take it,' Jim snarled, drawing Z deeper and deeper in the dark, chaotic abysses of his memories.

As promised, Jim started from the beginning - his birth seconds before the Kelvin was destroyed and fast forwarding to Winona's inability to look at him or even acknowledge his existence. He shoved all the pain he held of never knowing his father and never being able to escape his shadow; the agony of being unloved from the moment he was born and the emptiness that neglect and hatred had brought. Then, Frank came into the picture, bringing physical pain to the game. He could still remember all the pain of the years and years of broken limbs, cigarette burns, stitches, and bruises. He could still remember living each day, cowering in fear, too afraid to even breathe without permission. He pushed every tear he shed, every single scratch he endured onto Z, overwhelming the alien with his extremely vivid recollection until they both almost couldn't take it anymore.

Only then did Jim delve into the memories that began as a result of him driving the Corvette off the cliff once Sam left. Because that was when it became a whole new level of suffering...

Z started pulling, struggling to escape, but Jim merely growled and held on tighter.

'I'm far from done, you bastard...' And Jim plunged into his worst nightmares, dragging Z down with him.

Unable to handle his 'rebelliousness' anymore, Winona had shipped Jim off to her sister's off-planet - on Tarsus IV. At first it was amazing. Jim finally knew what it felt like to be loved, to be cared for, and to have friends – to live. For the first time in his life, he knew what it meant to exist, to be happy. Perhaps that was why it was that much worse when it was taken from him. It was as if someone how taken away all of the light in his dark, dark world.

Once the famine began and Kodos made his decree, his perfect world shattered and he lived like a dog to survive. His aunt and uncle died within the first few days, his cousins the first week. Whatever he had learned of love and family died with them. All that was left was anger, hatred, and guilt for not dying with them. Revenge overcame his mind; he couldn't let Kodos win. He wandered in the dark like a shadow, gathering supplies and food for the children that had been on the "kill-list", killing when needed and sometimes when it wasn't. J.T. kept his kids alive at any cost. And he meant anything. He was pretty and his blue eyes enthralled people - he knew this and would use it to his advantage. Sometimes, things got a bit rough and he bled and suffered, but he survived and he kept his kids safe. Didn't mean that he wasn't quickly being filled with such self-disgust and loathing of himself that there was nothing left by the time Starfleet came. Tarsus murdered every last piece of innocence that he had.

He was only thirteen years old when he emerged, emancipated and barely alive, from Tarsus.

He was only thirteen years old when he lost his will to live, becoming nothing more than a rabid dog whose only instinct was to survive to protect.

There was a shattering that echoed in Jim's mind and he knew that he had won against Z. Jim hadn't realized how easy it was to overcome the fake Betazoid Ambassador, or perhaps his memories were far more debilitating than he had ever realized. Either or, he was thankful that he hadn't needed to go into the years that followed - Winona not caring whether he lived or died, his children taken away from him, and his wandering alone around the world without a home or someone who cared about him. The years of bar brawls and mindless, meaningless sex to actually feel something and see if he was still alive or just a shadow...

He shook his head, pulling himself out of his reverie and let his memories taper off. He could feel the pieces of Z's broken mind scattered within his brain and he angrily threw each one out, not caring if he broke them further. Only then did he open his eyes to find himself on the floor next to his chair.

Z was lying close by, his eyes staring dully and almost lifelessly up at the ceiling. His chest lifted up and down as he breathed, but he didn't even twitch.

Around him, the Command crew had began to stir, clutching their heads and groaning. Jim knew that he should feel some sort of relief at the sight, but his emotions were still too raw, running rampant within his broken soul.

"Captain?" came Spock's soft voice to his left.

When had the Vulcan gotten so close to him? He flinched away, knowing full well that Spock was a touch telepath. It was enough that he had to relive his memories - he didn't need anyone else knowing what they were. He couldn't stand the pity or people looking at him differently. Yes, he had suffered. Yes, he was so fucking messed up, but he got through it. He didn't dwell on the past and he didn't want others to.

"Jim," Spock tried again when Jim didn't respond and wrapped his arms around himself tightly, making his entire body become smaller. "Jim, please speak to me..." Spock pleaded.

At that, Jim reacted and just shook his head. "Give me a minute. Just need some time..." Jim rasped out, fighting the unwanted tears.

He closed his eyes again and worked so meticulously to gather the raw memories and shove them behind doors, locking those within boxes and trapping them in labyrinths and mazes of walls that he erected. He didn't know how long it took for him to rebuild all the mental shields he had and he reinforced them even more harshly this time around, but he knew that they were only temporary. Even now, as he hastily constructed his walls, he could feel the cracks forming under the weight of his memories. He was standing on thin ice; his entire body tittering on the edge of a cliff.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on his back on the Bridge, his head pillowed in Uhura's lap. Low murmurs surrounded him and he glanced around to see Bones hovering over him. Somebody must have sent for him and Jim felt a surge of relief rush through him. Here was one person Jim knew wouldn't treat him any differently.

He blinked blearily a couple of times as a sharp lance of pain shot through his head. His heart ached as he fought to shove down his rising emotions. Shit…he wasn't wasted enough to deal with all of this.

There was a tiny sound from the corner, distracting Jim for a second. He turned his head slightly and saw Z tied up against Spock's chair. The Betazoid was drooling and limp; his eyes stared at nothing. Jim swallowed hard and had to look away. If his memories were enough to do that to a Betazoid, then what did that mean for him?

Another crack to his shields, and Jim knew the answer.

He was no different than Z.

He was broken too.

"I think the Keptin is awake," said Chekov quietly.

Immediately, Jim felt Bones' hand touch his cheek and Uhura's fingers carding through his short hair.

"Jim?" Bones called out cautiously.

Jim reached out and grasped Bones' other hand, squeezing it once. He could see Bones relax slightly at Jim's small reassurance. Using the doctor, Jim pulled himself into a seated position. He was fully aware of all the hands that reached out to help him and he waved them all away.

"I'm fine, guys," he sighed, trying to will the throbbing in his head to go away, "Just a little headache. Everyone alright?"

"Yeah," Sulu responded. "What the hell was all that? The last thing I remember was that guy strolling in and massive pain, and that was it."

"We have all suffered from a telepathic attack," Spock answered, his voice tight, strained, and distant.

Confused, Jim glanced around to realize that Spock was standing at a distance from them.

"Due to the barriers that the Captain and I had in place, we remained conscious long enough to identify what it is that Z sought. It seems that he fed off negative emotions and wanted more, but he could not penetrate our memories. Z threatened to kill all those present on the Bridge, so the Captain offered his mind in exchange for our lives."

Jim chuckled mirthlessly, "Damn bastard bit off more than he could chew, didn't he?"

Spock stiffened immeasurably, but enough for Jim to notice.

Dread filled Jim and he gaped at his first officer. "Spock, please tell me you didn't see anything..." he breathed.

Spock hesitated and that was enough of an answer for Jim.

Jim sprang to his feet and backed away from Spock like a cornered animal. Even with Bones, Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura around, Jim managed to skirt away from the Vulcan who had tried to reach out for him.

"Jim, I assure you that I did not see much. Only parts where your emotions reached a peak, making you broadcast your thoughts," Spock said quickly.

"Shit! As if that fucking makes me feel better!" snapped Jim.

"Jim, I cannot say that I understand what you are going through or what you went through. My understanding of human emotion does not delve deep enough to even begin to comprehend how you overcame your painful experiences, but I do know enough to thank you."

That stopped Jim in his tracks. "What?"

"At first, I could not conceive the notion that you, a supposed psi-null human, could create mental shields that are comparable to even mine. However, after these events, I can understand why and how it is you learned these skills."

"What's your point, Spock?" snarled Jim.

"Thank you for protecting me, Jim. I am...grateful."

Jim snorted at Spock's careful choice of words. "Before you get any wrong ideas, I didn't do it just because of you, so don't feel guilty. And don't give me crap about how you're a Vulcan and guilt is an illogical emotion. That's bullshit and you know it. That bastard said that he fed on emotions, right? I figured that if I let him in my head, I could break him and end all of this faster with no injuries."

"How could you have been so sure that your memories were enough to overcome him?"

Jim just smiled, his mask not quite hiding the depth of his pain as more cracks became pronounced in his mind, sending sparks of agony through his head. "Based on what little you saw, do you really need an answer to that question?"

When Spock fell silent, Jim clapped his hands with a large, obviously fake smile plastered on his face. "Well then, Sulu and Spock, take care of our guest. Chekov, you have the conn. And Uhura, let Starfleet know what happened. Apparently, Z killed or did something to the actual Ambassador. Bones, make sure no one has any aftereffects from the psychic attack. If anyone needs me..." He took a deep breath and his smile faltered a bit. "Well, try not to need me."

McCoy stepped forward, his hand reaching out for his friend, but Jim just shook him off.

"Not now, Bones..." Jim murmured.

When his blue eyes connected with Bones' hazel ones, Bones felt a coldness spread within him. In all the years Bones had known Jim, he had never seen the younger man so disquieted, so cornered. There was only one thing that could have sent Jim spiraling down this dark, self-depreciating road, and Bones knew better than to push. Because Jim was fragile when it came to his memories and he was too precious to Bones to risk shattering the thin walls that Jim had. At least for now. Sooner or later, someone was going to have to pull Jim out of the hole he was digging for himself.

With confusion and concern, the Command crew watched their Captain leave through the turbolift, his posture looking as if it was heavy with thousands of impossible burdens. Yet, none had the words to comfort their friend and brother - not even Leonard. For now, all McCoy could do was hope that this time, Jim hadn't buried himself too far to the point where even he could not reach him...

Jim staggered into his room, immediately stripping off his gold uniform and tossing it to the floor. He barely even spared it a glance before he stepped over it to rush to the bathroom.

He heaved the contents of his last meal into the toilet until there was nothing left but bile burning his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes as he shakily pushed himself away and leaned against the wall. His breaths came out harshly, as if he had run a marathon.

Goddamn it all...it had been years since Jim thought about all the shit that went down in his past. Sure, he had nightmares, but he never had to relive it memory by memory consecutively and so vividly. He didn't regret what he did to protect Spock and the rest of the crew. Better to have been him than them. He had had a feeling that Spock's memories wouldn't have been enough for Z and he would've had to step in anyway. At least this way, Spock was spared...Jim was used to this suffering - he had come to terms with everything over and over again. He wasn't sure Spock, the supposedly emotionless Vulcan, could piece himself back as quickly as Jim. Jim had had practice, after all, but it still didn't mean it was easy, especially with Jim's genius brain. Sometimes, it sucked being able to remember almost every single detail with just one look.

His mental shields were in place, but it wasn't enough to stop his memories from attacking him again. Through each break, Jim could see the lifeless eyes of his aunt and uncle and the lust within Frank's eyes. He could feel the hot breath of Kodos and his men on his neck and the sweat and grime on his body as he scavenged the dead for anything that could save his children. All the things he did, all the things he was forced to do, just made him feel so damn dirty, as if nothing could ever clean the blood and dirt off his hands - just as nothing could make his scars disappear.

Unable to stand it any longer, Jim shoved himself to his feet and stumbled into his shower, turning on the water until it was scalding hot. He didn't even bother to shed his black undershirt, pants, or boots. He just let the water cascade over him as he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor where he curled up into a ball.

With one final crack to the flimsy walls that he had made, the dam broke. He closed his eyes and let the darkness succumb him.

McCoy paced nervously in front of Jim's door. It had been a couple of hours since the whole event on the Bridge and Jim had yet to be seen or heard from. After Jim had left, Spock had refused to say anything further about what he had saw or experienced, but the horror was raw on the Vulcan's face and McCoy just knew that Jim had forced all his memories of his childhood and Tarsus onto Z.

Leonard was one of the few people in this universe that knew about Jim's past - the whole book. A couple of Starfleet's highest ranks knew of Jim's involvement on Tarsus IV: Jim was one of the Tarsus Nine who had seen Kodos' face. What they didn't know was the details of how Jim was captured in a last attempt to save his kids and tortured for days on end by Kodos himself before Starfleet finally arrived to save him. By the time Jim had recovered, his kids were gone - scattered throughout the universe and hidden from him for "their own safety". What bullshit. But even with Jim's hacking skills, he couldn't bring himself to find them. At the young age of thirteen, he had learned the harsh ways of the world. He knew what it meant to sacrifice, what it meant to suffer. And if he fulfilled his desires to see his kids again, he would be putting them in danger, because no matter how good he was at hacking and covering his tracks, he wasn't a hundred percent sure that his attempts would lead other people straight to the ones he had sworn to protect. So Jim had had to let them go, even if it killed part of whatever was left of his broken soul.

When Leonard had met Jim, they were instantly drawn to one another. As people who were innately familiar with loss, sacrifice, and hardships, it made sense. McCoy had seen and accepted Jim, despite not knowing the details of his turbulent past. He had gone out of his way to mend some of the broken pieces and keep the poor kid alive, and he did it without asking questions. No pity was ever involved. He just did it because well, Jim accepted him and all the shit that followed him first. Jim wasn't one to judge because of things that happened in the past. He lived in the present and he pulled McCoy along for the ride. Despite all their differences and difficulties of trusting others and letting people in, they worked, and for them, that was all that mattered.

Now, McCoy found himself hesitant to barge into his best friend's room like he normally did. He had dealt with Jim's nightmares in the past while they were roommates - he had even dealt with Jim's break down when he heard from Pike that one of his kids had committed suicide. (That was actually when McCoy learned the entire story from Jim). But this...this was something entirely new that McCoy wasn't sure how to handle. How do you comfort someone who had been emotionally and physically abused as a child and then thrown into a world where dog eats dog, only to be abandoned again? How do you even remotely begin to relate to that? It wasn't possible. Only Jim could be strong enough to live through all that and still come out the other end victorious.

Jim didn't believe in no-win scenarios. Perhaps that was what got him through it all. And this time would be no different. Leonard knew that. He really did. But he didn't know if Jim would need him or if he would rather go through all of this alone like he used to.

McCoy let out a frustrated groan. Damn Jim and his masochism. No matter what Jim wanted, he didn't get the option of being alone. He may have been used to it because he never had anyone in the past, but now he had Leonard, Spock, Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, Uhura, and the rest of the Enterprise. They were a family, and damn it all to hell if McCoy was going to let Jim deal with this on his own.

He inputted his CMO override code and the door opened to reveal Jim's dark quarters. He glanced inside and didn't see Jim on his bed or anywhere else in his room. For a moment, he had thought that Jim had wandered off somewhere quiet, like in the Jefferies tubes or in one of the less used observation decks, but the sound of water running caught his attention.

"Jim?" he called, stepping in.

There was no answer.

Bones peered into the bathroom and saw a huddled figure in the corner of the shower. He rushed forward with his heart in his throat and turned off the water. From the humidity of the air and how cold the water was now, Bones could tell that shower had been on for a long while now. He laid his hands on Jim's shoulders, shaking him slightly to get his friend's attention.

"Jim? Jim, wake up, damn it!"

Jim's head lolled towards McCoy and the doctor instantly took in his pale pallor and the shallow breathing. There was a slight flush to his cheeks. Leonard moved his hands up to hold Jim face, feeling how warm and wet his friend was. A fever was quickly making its way through Jim's system.

"Jim, please, answer me," McCoy pleaded, patting his best friend's cheeks lightly. "Jim!"

Blue eyes flickered open. It took a moment too long for recognition to register. "'lo Bones…" Jim murmured.

Bones almost laughed with relief. "Hey, you with me? How long have you been in this shower?"

"Don't know."

"Come on, let's get you dry and in bed."

Bones started to pull Jim to his feet, but Jim resisted. His bleary blue eyes looked up at Bones. "Why are you helping me, Bones?"

"You and your idiotic sense of worthlessness…" muttered McCoy, "We went over this last time, Jim. It's because you matter to me, moron. That'll never change. Now come on, you're not exactly at lightweight. Don't make me call Spock."

At that, Jim completely froze and McCoy knew that he said the wrong thing. Sighing, he crouched down beside his friend, ignoring the fact that his clothes were getting wet. "I know I usually don't get along with the pointy-eared bastard, but he is sincerely worried about you. Not that he would ever say it. But he's been pretty absentminded, even for a Vulcan."

Jim leaned into Bones, savoring the warmth of his friend. "He knows, Bones. He knows."

"He doesn't know much, from what I'm getting from him," Bones responded, wrapping his arm around Jim's trembling form.

"He tell you?"

"Nope."

"Liar."

"He didn't tell me, Jim, even when I pulled him aside and asked. He said that he only saw flashes, but not enough to gather a whole picture." Bones paused. "He's confused and worried about you. We all are. How much did Z get?"

There was a moment of silence and then a quiet murmur, "All of it."

"All of it? As in from Frank to now?"

A nod.

"Why the hell did you open that can of worms?" Bones scolded, his tone sad and rough. "Do you want to talk about it?"

But Bones knew the answer even before Jim responded.

Jim just pressed his face against Bones' shoulder and shook his head.

Bones sighed. "Alright then. Let's get you out of this shower and into bed. That sound good?"

The blonde didn't give a reply, but there was no fight left in him. Jim let Bones pull him up and help him out of the shower. He was set on the toilet while Bones grabbed a towel and gently tousled Jim's hair to get it dry. Getting Jim out of his wet clothes was a little bit more difficult, but somehow, McCoy managed to get Jim into a clean shirt, boxers, and pants before maneuvering him onto his bed. Tenderly, Bones pulled the covers over Jim and ran his fingers through Jim's short hair.

Jim made a murmuring noise – nothing discernible, but Bones knew what he said all the same.

Bones gave him a sad smile and patted Jim's shoulder reassuringly. "Yeah, kid. I'll stay."

And then the doctor settled down on the bed next to Jim, readying himself for a long, long night.

When Jim started to whimper in his sleep and shift uncomfortably, Bones snapped awake immediately. Turning around slightly, Bones laid his hand on Jim's shoulder and frowned in concern when he felt the heat of a fever through the shirt.

"Shit…" swore McCoy as he looked around the room for a hypospray, remembering at the last second that he hadn't brought any of his medical supplies with him. At least he had his comm on him and he was seconds from calling Nurse Chapel to bring what he needed to him, but Jim let out another moan, distracting him.

Bones gently started shaking his friend, trying to wake up Jim from the nightmares that he couldn't escape on his own. But he had forgotten that Jim didn't react well when he was feverish. The moment Jim was awake, his entire body jolted in alarm. With the fever fogging his mind, Jim acted purely on instinct.

Before Bones was even aware of what was going on, Jim had flung and slammed him to the floor. In seconds, Bones was lying on his back, winded, with Jim's knee sitting painfully on his sternum and a strong hand wrapped around his neck.

Once McCoy caught his breath again and the pain receded a little, he really took in how Jim looked. Jim was breathing heavily, sweat covering his body. His face was flushed and he was shaking, but what really disturbed Bones was how painfully cold Jim's eyes were. Jim didn't know who McCoy was, and that put Bones in a very dangerous situation.

"Make a move, and I will kill you," Jim snarled quietly, venom lacing every word.

"Jim…Jimmy, it's me, Bones," McCoy coughed out.

"I don't give a flying fuck who you are. Where are my kids?"

Confusion filled Bones. "Kids? What kids?"

Wrong thing to say…McCoy felt the pressure around his neck tighten, but the sudden lack of oxygen didn't mean that he couldn't make the connection between the 'kids' that Jim spoke of and Tarsus. For the first time in his life, Bones felt thankful that Jim had forcefully taught him some self-defense moves. In a flash, he broke Jim's grasp on him and raised his knee, using his larger body to flip Jim over onto his back. The moment Jim was down, McCoy jumped back, fumbling with his comm.

"Uhura! Come in, Uhura!" he spoke urgently in comm as he kept some distance between him and Jim who had gotten to his feet.

"McCoy? What's going on?" Uhura responded immediately.

"Get me Ensign Kevin Riley, now!" Bones said just as he noticed Jim grabbing something off the shelf. "SHIT!" he shouted and ducked.

McCoy's loud swear and the sounds of glass shattering came through on the comm and alarm rapidly filled Uhura and the rest of the Command crew. Alpha shift was just ending and Uhura had answered McCoy's call at her console. She hadn't really thought about it, but she had automatically patched McCoy through on the speaker and now, sounds of a violent scuffle could be heard on the Bridge.

"McCoy?! Are you alright?!" she exclaimed.

There was a grunt from McCoy. "Calm down, Jim!"

They all froze. Jim was attacking his best friend?

Another crash and then a thud.

Everyone held their breath.

Then, "Uhura, you still there?" panted Leonard. It seemed that the doctor was able to subdue Jim, at least long enough to contact the Bridge.

"Yes! What's going on, Leonard? Are you alright?"

"Nothing. Just send Ensign Kevin Riley to Jim's room."

"Leonard…" Uhura started.

"No time, Uhura. He's getting up again. Get me Kevin Riley, now!"

And then the message ended.

Uhura tried to call back, but before she could do it, Spock's fingers pressed down on her comm. "I understand your concern, Nyota, but I believe it would be best if we do as Doctor McCoy asked and find Ensign Kevin Riley."

She nodded and quickly called Ensign Riley.

"Ensign Riley," answered Kevin, his voice muffled with tiredness.

"Ensign Riley, this is Lieutenant Uhura. Doctor McCoy has requested your presence at Captain Kirk's quarters," she said swiftly.

There was a pause and then sounds of clothes rustling. "Understood. I'll be there in five."

Silence filled the bridge.

Sulu turned to Uhura. "Anyone know who Riley is?"

"He works in Engineering," said Spock, already passing off his position to the Beta shift.

"Vhat does he hawe to do with the Keptin?" frowned Chekov, also following Spock's example.

"I do not know, but I intend to find out."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Uhura asked, standing. "You saw Kirk earlier. What makes you think that he'd want us to know whatever it is he's hiding?"

"I do not wish to pry into what Jim does not want us to know."

"Then why are you so intent on all this? Is it because of what you saw?"

Spock finally paused at the turbolift, his back to the Command crew. Slowly, he turned back around to stare coldly at Uhura. "Do not misunderstand me, Lieutenant Uhura. While I am curious, I will not betray Jim's trust by forcing his secrets out into the open."

Uhura stood her ground. "I'm just trying to protect him, Spock. You saw him when he left the Bridge. He can't take any more, Spock! You have to give him time to get himself back together!"

Spock inclined his head slightly. "I merely wish to remind Jim that he need not go through this on his own. He is no longer alone."

There was a pause and suddenly, Chekov was already in the turbolift, tapping his foot impatiently. Sulu, Uhura, and Spock all looked at him with confusion.

"Vhat are you all standing there for? Come on. Let's not keep the Keptin vaiting."

Sulu broke into a grin. "That's right. Kirk's family and family take care of each other." And he joined Spock and Chekov.

"Well, the least we can do is make sure that he didn't kill McCoy," Uhura said, walking in as well and pressing the button to Deck 5. "The good doctor has some outstanding bets to pay."

"McCoy owes you?" gaped Sulu. "How did you manage that?"

Uhura just smiled as the turbolift doors closed, but that quickly faded as they made their way down to Jim's floor.

Silence had filled the turbolift as each and every one of them thought about Jim and how well they truly knew their Captain. For all that he was and all that he had shared, Jim was a complete and utter mystery. None of them knew anything beyond his years at Starfleet. They didn't even know if Jim had siblings or not, and yet, Jim had taken the time to get to know them. Jim would occasionally ask Uhura how her grandmother was; he would give Sulu some ethnic treats to send to his parents and talk Chekov through his homesickness. He had drawn a wonderful picture of Spock's mother for him and would keep up with all the developments of New Vulcan.

For all intents and purposes, Jim was their brother – someone that they could always count and rely on, someone who was always there for them. And until now, they hadn't realized that it was so one-sided. They didn't know anything about Jim. Even if he hadn't outright shared his past, they had never thought to ask.

As the turbolift opened once again, they found themselves wondering whether or not they had the right to even call themselves Jim's friends.

Bones stepped back, hanging up on Uhura as he watched his best friend stagger to his feet. Jim's eyes were dull and unfocused, but unlike seconds before, there was no sign of anger or cold detachment. Instead, confusion and anguish filled those baby blues.

"Jim?" Bones tried, taking a tentative step.

Jim's looked at Bones' voice and frowned. "Bones? Wha…what's going on?"

"Doesn't matter. You back with me now?"

Jim shook his head, raising his hand to clutch at his head. He stumbled backwards, his back leaning against the wall for support. Instantly, Bones was by his side, helping him slide down to the ground. Leonard then joined Jim on the floor, their shoulders touching.

"S-shit…my head hurts like fuck…" Jim hissed.

"You got a fever, Jim. A really high one. Do you know where you are?"

It took a moment. "The Enterprise…right?"

There was hesitation and doubt in his voice. And then his head snapped up and looked wildly around the dark room.

"Wait…where're my kids, Bones? Did they fucking take my kids?" gasped Jim, grabbing Bones' sleeve tightly in fear.

If it was anyone else, he or she would have worried at how incoherent Jim was, but Bones knew the drill like the back of his hand. It wasn't the first time that Jim was confused about his timeline.

He shushed Jim quietly. "No, they didn't. Your kids are safe."

"Where are they?"

"They're resting, but Kevin said that he's stopping by soon."

"Kev? Kev is here?"

Bones smiled, hiding his worries away. "Yeah, he followed you to this damn ship."

A pause. "Like you did…"

Bones nodded. "Can't leave you alone, can I?"

Jim frowned, remembering. "You threw up on me."

McCoy sighed. "You'll never let that go, will you?"

There was a slight change in Jim's posture as let his head fall against Bones' shoulder. "Fuck…"

"You with me now, Jim?"

"My head keeps fucking with me," Jim answered truthfully, his voice weak.

"Can you use those techniques that those Betazoids showed you to build up more shields?"

Jim wordlessly shook his head.

"You can't differentiate the past and the present with that fever, can you?" Bones inferred. Jim couldn't replace his shields properly without being able to know what were memories and what wasn't. There was no way to know what was meant to be locked away until his chaotic mind settled down.

Bones reached around Jim's shaking shoulders and pulled him closer. He raised his hand to touch Jim's forehead, feeling the intense heat radiating off his friend. "We have to get this fever down, Jimmy, before we can do anything to get your head all sorted out."

Jim's grip grew tighter on Bones' shirt. "Don't go…"

"I'm won't. I promise."

There was a moment of silence and then Jim's breathing hitched.

"Where're my kids? Did they fucking take my kids?" Jim mumbled again.

Bones just shushed Jim, holding his friend tighter. "No, they didn't. Your kids are safe, Jim."

"Kodos isn't dead. He isn't dead. I have to warn them."

"Kevin will be here soon. You can tell him."

McCoy had to thank the stars that Riley had the best timing ever. The doors to Jim's room opened and Kevin stepped in. The young man only had to take one look at Jim's huddled form next to McCoy to realize what Jim needed exactly.

Kevin rushed over and kneeled in front of Jim, grasping Jim's trembling wrist. "Hey, J.T.," he said softly. "It's me, Kev."

Jim turned his bleary eyes to look at Kevin. "Kev…you made it…"

"Yeah, we all did, thanks to you, J.T."

"Kodos…Kodos isn't dead."

"I know. I already told the others. We'll get him, I promise. Now, go to sleep. It's time for you to rest and let us take care of you, okay, J.T.?"

"You'll still be here?"

"Promise. Me and good ol' Bones here will be right here."

"Bones?"

Bones nudged Jim's shoulder. "Right here, Jimmy."

Jim let out a sigh and leaned his head against Bones' shoulder. "Good." And his eyes closed.

McCoy and Kevin both waited until Jim's breathing had evened out before they even dared to speak.

"What brought this on?" asked Kevin quietly. "I haven't seen him this bad since he learned that Kodos was still alive."

"Some fucking Betazoid snuck on board. Jim here figured out that the bastard leeched off negative memories and emotions, so he, being the self-sacrificing moron he is, gave up everything he had." Despite how angry his words were, Bones' tone was soft and worried. "I think the fever is a residual effect from the psychic attack and it's making him confused."

"What can I do?"

"We need to get the fever down, but I don't know how the medications will react after all this. Let's get him to bed first."

Kevin nodded and helped maneuver Jim so that Bones could carry his friend to the bed. Silently, he tucked Jim in while Kevin brought back a cold, wet rag to place on Jim's forehead.

A knock on the door distracted the two and McCoy went to answer it.

When he opened the door, he saw Spock, Nyota, Chekov, and Sulu standing before him, their eyes questioning.

Tiredly, McCoy ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed. "Look, guys, I know you want an explanation, but now is not a good time."

"We merely wish to inquire on Jim's health," Spock said.

"Physically, he's fine."

"And mentally?"

"There's room for improvement," came the curt response.

"Can you just tell us if he'll be okay?" asked Uhura. "We're worried about him."

"Aren't we all?" muttered McCoy. "I don't know. I honestly don't. That moron hasn't always had the easiest life and he just had to relive it all, piece by piece. And because our idiot is a genius with a near eidetic memory, let's just say that the details can be quite damaging."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Sulu questioned.

McCoy paused. "You aren't here to find out what it was exactly that broke that Betazoid bastard, are you?" There was a slight tone of disbelief in his words, telling them that he slightly was surprised that they did not come to satisfy their burning curiosity.

"It is not our place to pry," replied Chekov, "The Keptin is my good friend and I care about him. If he does not vant to share his past, then ve vill not ask."

"Doctor McCoy!" came Kevin's shout from within the room.

Immediately, Leonard swung around to see Jim thrashing in his bed and Kevin hovering worriedly over him, knowing full well that he couldn't touch his friend. The anguished expression on Jim's face broke Bones' heart.

"Damn it, Jim!" McCoy hissed, his mind rapidly turning to figure out what he could do to save Jim. He turned back to Spock. "Jim's going to hate me for asking you to do this, Spock, but you need to do that voodoo mind-melding shit with him. At this rate, his memories are going to tear him apart before he even gets the chance to recover."

Spock hesitated. "Doctor McCoy, you do realize what you are asking, from the both of us?"

McCoy closed his eyes for a brief moment. "I know." But he moved aside to let Spock enter the room. "But even if he never forgives me, I can't let him suffer like this. I just can't."

"Very well. But do not forget that this is Jim we are considering, Doctor McCoy. There is no one else that can replace you in his life, just as there is no one to replace him in your life. He will understand. However, in the unlikely chance that he does not forgive you as you say, you and I can enjoy isolation together."

McCoy let out a small, mirthless chuckle. "If he throws me under the bus, you'll be right there with me, huh? Sarcasm does not become you, Spock."

"So I have heard."

"Just…help him, please?"

"I will." He started to walk in, but not before whispering to McCoy, "He is irreplaceable to me as well."

Spock nodded at Kevin who made room for Spock to stand by Jim's side. Spock closed his eyes as he reached forward towards Jim's face. With a brief second of hesitation, Spock pressed on Jim's psi-points.

The last coherent thought he had as himself before he was sucked into the dark abyss that was Jim's mind was, "Please do not despise me for this, my friend…"

When Spock opened his eyes, he was no longer in Jim's quarters. Instead, he found himself all alone in vast field of rolling tall grass. Bewildered, Spock surveyed his surroundings and spotted a large tree in the center of everything. High above in the branches, lying so ever casually, was Jim.

Quietly, Spock made his way to Jim and stood below the tree as he asked, "Permission to come up, Jim?"

Jim had his eyes closed as he laid on his back, resting his head on his arms. He sighed at the sound of Spock's voice. "You aren't supposed to be here, Spock."

"While that is true, that does not mean that I should not be here."

Jim sat up, his body language angry now. "I can't believe Bones let you do this."

"Do not blame Doctor McCoy. The fault is mine. I had every ability to refuse his request, but we are both worried about you. You were far too incoherent to recover on your own terms."

"I figured as much. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

"You are aware?"

"Of course I'm aware of my own chaotic mind, Spock. I'm a genius, remember?"

"Then how is it that this place is so peaceful?"

"You like it? It reminds me of the time I was in Italy. It was the first place I went to after I came back to this planet and left Iowa. I didn't have anywhere to go, anyone to care about me, but I found peace there. Even now, whenever I find myself wavering, I like to come here." He closed his eyes. "But I can tell that beyond here, everything is all jumbled up and my memories are clashing. Why is it that I can't make heads and tails of it all?"

"It seems that you have a high fever."

"Ah, no wonder."

As silence fell, Spock turned to see the meadow around them shrink, covered by a dark cloud. "Jim…"

"I know. I'm aware. We don't have long."

"Jim…"

"Spock, are you prepared?"

"What do you mean?"

Jim looked down at him, his sad, blue eyes drowning Spock. "You saw parts of my memories. You should know that there aren't many pleasant things that lurk there. I've lived through hell, Spock, but I have already seen it all. You, on the other hand, don't really know what to expect. So I ask again, are you prepared?"

Spock squared his shoulders. "Regardless of whether or not I am prepared, I am here to ensure that you will not go through this alone, Jim."

"You may come to regret that statement, Spock."

"I have and never will regret anything that concerns our friendship, Jim."

Jim just smiled at him sadly. "If you can say that after what you see, then maybe I'll believe you."

The black clouds were touching the edges of the tree roots now and were slowly creeping up on Spock and Jim. Just as the blackness took over them, Spock heard one last remark from Jim.

"Please don't hate me for this, Spock…"

How peculiar that their last thoughts were almost exactly the same.

McCoy paced nervously at the foot of Jim's bed. Every so often, he would glance at Jim's prone body with Spock standing like a statue beside him. Neither of them made any movements.

"Doctor McCoy, could you please sit down?" asked Kevin, who was sitting down on the floor on the other side of Jim's bed.

"Yes, please sit down," sighed Sulu who also was sitting on the ground, but against the wall facing Jim and Spock. Beside him sat Chekov and Uhura.

"I'll do whatever I damn well please."

"We're all worried, Leonard, but you're driving us crazy," said Uhura.

McCoy paused, facing away from all of them. His shoulders fell, as if he had surrendered. "Maybe I shouldn't even be here…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I willingly let Spock know Jim's secrets – the secrets that he guards with his life. He's never going to forgive me for it."

"He'll understand, Leonard. You said it yourself, if it wasn't for the fever or the psychic attack, he could have handled it. Spock had to step in."

McCoy let out a shaky exhale. "Let's just hope Jim thinks the same way..."

Spock blinked, momentarily puzzled at the sudden change in scenery. He was standing within a small Terran living room. There was a couch with an older man sitting upon it. He was middle-aged and scruffy. He wore a dirty white wife-beater and was drunkenly yelling at the television screen.

A worn out looking woman with blond hair wandered in. She was wearing the blue Starfleet uniform of a Science officer and tugging along a suitcase. Spock recognized her as Winona Kirk.

She fussed with her clothes for a second before talking to the man on the couch. "Frank, I'm going to be leaving soon. Take care of Sam for me?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Sam? Not James? Spock was confused.

"Sam is my older brother," came Jim's voice from beside him.

It took almost all of Spock's control to not flinch. He turned to glance at the Jim he knew, standing beside him. When had that happened?

Jim almost laughed at the startled expression on Spock's face. "I've been here the entire time, Spock. And no, I can't read your mind. You're a lot more expressive than you think."

"Sam, I'm leaving now!" shouted Winona.

Two teenagers came running down the stairs. One was clearly older by a couple of years and had similar features as Jim, but had brown eyes instead of the haunting, dreamy blue irises that his younger brother had.

"Mom, do you have to go?" whined Sam.

"You know I do. Be good for Frank, will you?" Winona reached out a caressed Sam's cheek while smiling softly. She never once glanced at James who cowered behind his older brother. James neither spoke nor made any movement towards his mother; Winona in return, seemed to completely disregard James' existence.

"Frank was my step-father," Jim explained. "I reminded Winona too much of my father and she could never bear to look at me. Until I was thirteen, I did not exist."

Winona walked out the door without a backwards glance.

Sam immediately disappeared back up the stairs, but not before he shot Frank a dirty look.

James just stood there, looking so small, so sad until Sam came down with a duffle bag.

"Sam, where are you going?" asked James, sounded so scared.

"I'm leaving, James. I can't stick around with him here, but I can't take you with me. I'm sorry, James. I really am."

"Please don't leave me, Sam. Please!"

"I'm sorry, James. Goodbye."

And Sam walked out of Jim's life as well.

The sound of the door shutting roused Frank and he glanced up to see James standing there.

"What the fuck are you still doing there, you fucking brat?" Frank yelled. The man threw his now empty bottle at James' head. James ducked at the last second and the glass shattered around him.

"How dare you dodge? What have I said about that, you damn brat?!" Frank roared and stood.

In an angry, drunken stupor, Frank raised his fists above James and hit him over and over again, until even Spock lost count. Blood splattered from broken skin; cracks could be heard as bones snapped. But through it all, James never made a sound.

Spock could feel Jim flinching with each hit, but he too, made no sound as he felt the pain of his past self all over again.

One sharply placed fist to Frank's throat, and suddenly, the older man keeled over, unconscious.

James pushed Frank aside, and shakily got to his feet.

Spock reached forward, meaning to help the younger James, but Jim stopped him.

"This is just a memory, Spock. You can't do anything," Jim said quietly. "But I appreciate the thought."

"Jim, this is…"

"Yeah, this was my childhood. Frank was a bastard that liked to beat children and Winona did nothing to stop it, even though she knew about it. I was about twelve when this happened. Immediately, I drove my father's Corvette off a cliff. Child's Protective Services got wind of my 'rebelliousness' and sent me to live with Winona's sister off-planet."

Jim clapped his hands and the scene before them became a wisp of smoke. "Spock, will you do me the honors?"

"For what, may I ask?"

An iron wooden box suddenly appeared before Spock and he instantly understood. Without hesitation, he opened it and watched as Jim guided the wisp of smoke into it.

He slammed the lid shut, and Jim quickly shoved a lock into place, keeping that memory locked away.

Jim smiled at Spock. "That's one down."

Spock almost frowned at how easy it all was.

"Don't be fooled, Spock. It may have seemed easy, but that's because this memory is the easiest for me to deal with. I'm almost twenty-six; I've had many years to come to terms with my childhood." Jim looked at the box, "And it was a lot easier to handle with you around."

"I do not understand. In Vulcan, children are considered precious treasures. I do not understand how Frank could raise a hand against someone as innocent as…"

Jim raised a hand to stop Spock. "I haven't been innocent in a very long time, Spock. But on Earth and among humans, there just are some people who have black hearts. Sometimes, there just aren't any explanations to how we act. We humans are, as you say, illogical."

Jim watched Spock try to process the information. A heartbeat later, he spoke again. "Can we move on? I don't know about you, but I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible. And I'm pretty sure Bones is going to throw a conniption if we don't handle this soon."

"What's next?"

"You're not going to like it."

"As you have said before."

Jim sighed and looked upwards. "You know how I said that I was sent off-planet?"

"Yes."

"The planet I was sent to was Tarsus IV."

Spock let out a gasp as the black scenery around them wavered, like a mirage in the dessert.

And before he had any chance to gather himself, Spock found himself spinning farther and farther into the black abyss.

Spock opened his eyes once again to see a barren wasteland before him. It seemed that at one point, the land in front of him was once a fertile farmland, but now it had become barren, covered with blood.

The Vulcan took a step back as piles of bodies started to appear before him, but he bumped into a hard frozen body.

He turned to see Jim standing behind him. His Captain was trembling, his arms wrapped around his chest, hugging himself. Cold sweat appeared on his brow.

"Jim?" asked Spock.

"Spock…I-I don't think I can do this…" whispered Jim.

The bodies around them increased in number; their terrified expressions frozen in death. It almost surprised Spock at how detailed their faces were or how twisted their limbs were, but this was Jim he was talking about, and Spock shuddered at the thought of how every detail was probably etched from Jim's photographic memory. There was no exaggeration nor lie in each of these bodies.

"Jim, do not fear. This is merely a memory."

"Merely a memory…you're fucking with me. Do you not see the carnage around you? Courtesy of one fucking Kodos the Executioner."

"But you did not cause their deaths. You are not at fault for this, Jim."

Jim shook his head. "No, but I am no better."

The bodies faded away, disintegrating into the ground, replace by much smaller ones.

Sixteen emaciated children laid around them; their tear streak stains distinct on their pale, yet dirty faces. Sorrow, terror, and hunger filled their expressions; their dull eyes staring blankly into the cloudy sky.

"Jim, who are they?" Spock asked gently.

Jim curled into himself, if it was even possible. He sank to the ground, trying to avoid looking at the children around him. "They are my kids…the ones that I failed."

As loathe as Spock was to question Jim, he knew he had to. Otherwise, Jim would be forever stuck here. "What do you mean by failed?"

"I…I was supposed to protect them. I did as much as could. I stole…"

A thin thirteen-year-old J.T. scampered in the shadows, sneaking into homes and emerging with small bags of food. He didn't care who he was stealing from, even if the people within those homes needed to food and water that he gathered.

"I killed…"

J.T. and a young Kevin Riley had been corned by Kodos' soldiers. J.T. snarled at them and pulled out a small dagger as he stepped in front of Kevin. There was no hesitation in J.T.'s lithe and lethal movements. He sprang forward, leaping as his dagger slit the closest soldier's throat. Blood splattered all over J.T.'s young body, but he paid it no attention. The moment he landed, he swung around, stabbing another soldier in the stomach. The last of them had tried to attack Kevin, who huddled by the wall of a house. In that instant, J.T. rushed towards them, taking a sharp blow to his upper arm that was meant for Kevin, and exchanged it with a flick of his wrist. His dagger flew through the air and pierced through the last soldier's forehead.

J.T.'s cold, detached expression never changed during the entire encounter. Even when J.T. jerked out the knife from the soldier's head and wiped off the blood on his torn clothing, he barely spared the soldier a glance. It was a far cry than what Spock had seen in his Jim.

"I had to make hard choices…"

There was a young couple, crying to J.T. to spare them some food, some water. Anything. J.T. could easily see that without his help, the two would die within a couple of days, if not sooner. But he turned his back on them and didn't back even look over his shoulder. He had his kids he had to worry about.

And then there was the time where he had been separated from two of his kids, Anna and Jacob. He wasn't sure what happened, but soldiers discovered them and they had to make a quick getaway, but Anna and Jacob were too young – barely four-years-old – and could not keep up. J.T. had to close his eyes and bite his lower lip as he ushered the rest of his kids away, leaving behind the two when they fell and could not get back up. He had no choice. He had no choice…but it didn't hurt any less.

"And in the end, I still failed them."

"But some survived, did they not? Because of you, Kevin Riley was able to become an Ensign on board of Starfleet's flagship."

"Eight, besides me. Eight out of my original twenty-four. Sixteen of my kids died, Spock. Sixteen…all because I wasn't good enough."

"Jim, you did what you had to do to survive. For your kids to survive. Even if some perished, it was not because you did not do what you could; it was because Kodos forced you into that life-or-death situations. You are not to blame."

Jim looked up at Spock, tears falling down his cheeks. "You've seen all that I've done, Spock. Even you cannot possibly condone what I have done. And yet, after everything, sixteen of my kids still died and even more died by my own hands."

Spock knelt down in front of Jim, purposely hiding Jim's view of the bodies around them. "Jim, you are not James, that terrified child, anymore. You are no longer J.T., the teenager that was forced to live like a dog under Kodos' terrifying reign. You are Captain James T. Kirk, the one who saved worlds and is a universal hero. You are Jim, the one who lived through everything and survived to become who you are today. You are Jim – the extraordinary man who is the strongest being I have ever met. Please, do not forget that, Jim."

Spock lightly reached out, grasping Jim's wet cheeks. "Please, Jim. Do not forget yourself. Do not forget your Bones, Lieutenant Sulu, Lieutenant Chekov, and Nyota. Do not forget the Enterprise or her crew. We all care for you, Jim. If you are not there with us, who else is there to keep us safe? Who else is there to give meaning to our lives? Jim, we need you. Please. Do not let Kodos win."

Under Spock's hands, Jim shook, trying desperately to block out the screams of the thousands of people around him, trying to forget the faces of the people he killed and the kids that he failed, but he couldn't.

"No, Jim. You are not to forget. You are to move on. Only then, can you truly be free."

"Spock…help me. Please…I can't…"

Spock conjured a steel treasure box with his mind and set it beside Jim. "I can only do this much for you, Jim. The rest is up to you, but I will be here for you, every step of the way."

"Spock."

"Jim, you are strong – far stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"No, I'm not. I can't. I don't deserve to move on…"

"Don't think of it like that. Do it for the people who care for you. Think of 'Bones', Ensign Kevin Riley, Lieutenant Chekov and Sulu, and Nyota."

The images of the mentioned people appeared around them, creating a shield between them and the horror that was Tarsus.

Jim sucked in a deep breath and Spock could sense his resolve returning.

"Do it now, Jim," urged Spock.

Jim nodded and shook his head briefly. The scene around them went up into smoke, churned above their heads. Gritting his teeth, Jim forced the memory into the chest and Spock firmly forced it closed.

"The lock, Jim. The lock!"

Wordlessly, Jim forced the lock onto the chest. With one second of hesitation, Jim clamped the lock shut.

The scene swirled wildly and Jim let out a sigh of relief. His bright blue eyes landed on Spock and a small smile ghosted his face.

"Are you alright, Jim?"

Jim just shook his head at Spock's question.

Understanding, Spock amended his words. "Will you be alright, Jim?"

"Perhaps not today, but perhaps tomorrow. Someday, I will be able to do this alone once again."

Spock reached out as he felt himself being pushed out of Jim's recovering consciousness, his long fingers encircling Jim's wrist. "No, Jim. You will never be alone again. Not while I am alive and by your side."

Jim cracked a genuine smile. "See you on the other side, Spock."

And then Spock was gone.

Spock snapped back with a small gasp, his head throbbing. Instantly, he was surrounded by Nyota, Chekov, and Sulu. Questions barraged him. Was Jim alright? Was he alright? What had happened? What was going to happen? Spock, despite his intelligence, could barely make any sense of what they were saying.

"Everyone, give the hobgoblin some room!" barked McCoy.

His shout was effective and everyone took a couple of steps back, ducking their heads like scolded children.

McCoy turned to Spock who was still steadying himself. "You alright?"

Spock nodded.

"Jim?"

"Alive."

But it wasn't Spock who answered. It was Jim himself, who was pushing himself up into a seated position, wincing at the sharp pain in his head.

Again, everyone tried to push forward, but Jim raised a hand and stopped them.

"Before you say anything, yes, I'm aware of what happened. Yes, I'm fine and yes, my shields are in place. Sorry for worrying you."

Silence fell and they all gave McCoy a side glance. McCoy was fidgeting by the door, trying not to look at Jim. Jim followed their gazes and sighed.

"Come here, you big lug. I know you want to check me over, you damn overprotective hen."

McCoy looked hesitant.

Jim rolled his eyes, "Come on, Bones. Don't make me get up and go over there."

At the sound of his nickname, Bones' posture instantly relaxed in relief and stepped forward, muttering under his breath. Jim quirked a smile at Bones returning to his usual state and even moved into position to make it easier for Bones to take his vitals, but Bones didn't bother. Instead, Bones just wrapped Jim into a tight hug.

"I'm just glad you're alright, Jim."

Jim smiled warmly. "Thanks, Bones. Sorry for scaring you."

Once they broke apart, Jim grinned at the rest of his Command crew. "Alright, I'm sure you have questions for me. Ask away."

"Are you sure that's wise, Jim?" asked Bones.

Jim nodded. "Thanks to Spock."

"Are you really alright, Keptin?" Chekov questioned first.

"I'm as good as anyone can be. Tomorrow will be better and the day after will be even better. For now, I'm fine."

Sulu was next. "Aren't you supposed to be psi-null? How did you manage to fight off Z?"

"I'm a genius, remember? I once visited a Betazoid colony and learned a few tricks. Even though I'm psi-null, I was able to figure out how to create mental shields and block of mental attacks. I had to train for it though."

Uhura crossed her arms. "You're still an idiot, Kirk. What did you think you would accomplish by running off like that? I've never seen McCoy so worried, and that's even with you getting blown up and poisoned."

Jim shrugged. "It was my problem. I thought I could deal with it on my own."

"You always take things upon yourself like you're alone. That needs to stop. Don't bite off more than you can chew, Kirk. We're here to help. We're family, aren't we?"

Jim smiled, "Yeah, we are." Then he frowned. "How come none of you are asking about my past? Aren't you curious?"

"We're very curious," said Sulu. "But everyone has the right to their own secrets. If you don't want to share, we won't ask."

"Thanks…that means a lot to me." He let out an exhale. "One day, I'll tell you about it all. Just…not today…."

"Of course. As long as we're all good," Sulu replied.

Jim just nodded. "Yep, we're all good."

McCoy rolled his eyes at everyone grinning at each other.

"Yeah, we're all good, you ingenious idiot."

"Love you too, Bones."

Chapter Text

IV

Anything That Can Go Wrong, Will Go Wrong

No one from the Enterprise could bring themselves to question why things always went sideways anymore. It seemed that everything that was linked to a certain Jim Kirk tended to be filled with suspense, drama, and everything you would ever see out of an action movie. Kirk's illogical effect on the universe became synonymous with Murphy 's Law.

But despite all that, the crew of Enterprise didn't mind following Jim into what was sure to be dangerous, because they knew that their brash leader would always find some way out. Their faith in him was not blind - every single member on the crew was wholeheartedly loyal to Jim. They never found themselves afraid when situations went straight to hell. But once the danger had passed, terror reigned in their hearts. Because more often than not, Jim would, at the very last second, pull one final desperate act to save someone else, regardless if he survived it or not. As long as he protected his crew, that was all that mattered, Murphy's Law be damned.

And nothing scared the Enterprise's crew more than that.

"Doctor McCoy," Spock's voice said, with a hint of exasperation, "I assure you that there are only small life forms upon this planet - none of which will, as you say, 'chomp you up'."

"You said that about Delta Vega and I still had to treat Jim for those scratches he got," Leonard snapped back.

Jim just rolled his eyes at the reoccurring argument his two friends were having and kept on moving through the dense brushes of the jungle. They had been ordered to explore an unknown planet near the edges of the Neutral zone. Paranoid as always, the crew of the Enterprise had scanned the small planet within an inch of its life before agreeing to let their Captain beam down with Spock, Bones, and Sulu for a brief initial exploratory excursion. So far, nothing abnormal had come up - the place resembled the environment of Central America back on Earth. The vast majority of the land was jungle with a few low mountain ranges that were littered with massive caves. On their detectors, the mountains almost looked like Swiss cheese and Jim was itching to go caving, which was probably why they sent down Spock and Bones down with him. Both of them were total spoilsports.

He turned to Sulu and saw sweat drip down the collar of his neck. "Jungle too hot for your San Franciscan tendencies, Sulu?" Jim smirked, slowing down slightly from where he was leading their group up a steep climb.

"How the hell can you jump around like that and still not be sweating?" Sulu gasped out. "Spock, I can understand, and McCoy's from Georgia. You're from Iowa! It snows there!"

"I didn't stay in Iowa my whole life, remember? I've always liked this kind of weather."

"Hot and humid?"

"Sunny and warm," Jim easily returned with a smile. "It reminds me of Belize on Earth. I have lots of fond memories caving there."

"I ain't climbing a damn mountain, Jim," Bones called out as he trudged on forward.

"You won't be."

"I'm not caving either. And neither are you, you accident-prone idiot."

"I must agree with Doctor McCoy on that point," Spock said.

Jim pouted, his bright blue eyes contrasting brightly against the beautiful green of the leaves in the rainforest. "You guys suck out all the fun in life."

"Captain, you realize that you've been stuck in MedBay at least once every single time you've beamed off board? Pardon the crew for caring about your well being," sniffed Sulu, as if he was personally offended.

"It can't be every time..." Jim started.

"Don't even start, Jim," grouched McCoy. "Now, where the hell are we going?"

"Up this mountain so we can get a better view of the terrain."

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a mountain climber!"

"Come on, Bones, it'll be fun!" grinned Jim as he moved forward, flanked closely by Spock and Sulu.

McCoy internally groaned and tried to shove down the uneasy feeling that was rising in his gut.

"Famous last words..." he muttered and shouldered his pack better before he followed his best friend further into the rainforest.

Somehow, he knew he was going to eat those words later.

Jim sighed for the fourth time as he watched Sulu and Spock analyze some green-purple plant near the back of a cavern. The two had spotted some unusual fauna and dragged Jim and Bones inside to investigate. While Jim was usually more than happy to let his friends faun over science (he secretly was a nerd too), this time, he was more interested in exploring the vast caves. After being cooped up on the ship for months on end, Jim was feeling antsy to run outside, to jump and feel the wind on his face.

Spock and Sulu wandered further back into the cavern. Jim craned his head, trying to see if he could ascertain the end of the rocky structure. It seemed to go deep into the side of the mountain; the opening chamber was large and clean. Unusually clean. As in, no insects or other critters scurrying around. Yet, there were signs of habitation: scrapings along the side of the walls and marks of a single, large animal among the dirt ground. Jim had never seen tracks such as those before.

Instincts kicked in. "Guys," Jim called out. "Don't go too far in. Something lives in here."

Spock raised his head and gave a short nod of acknowledgement before going back to his studies.

Frowning at Jim's words, Bones wandered forward to stand beside his friend. "What are you talking about, Jim?" he asked.

Jim shrugged, no answers available yet. But he sauntered forward, crouching down by one of the tracks. He reached down, touching the edges of it. It was a crater, like an inverted cone into the dirt. Overall, it was over six inches in diameter and four inches deep. Whatever this was, it was huge. And heavy. With lots of legs.

Suddenly, his overly sharp senses started tingling. All sounds of the rainforest behind him that was once so rowdy and loud, had abruptly subdued, leaving an almost absolute silence behind. Based on everything Jim had ever learned in his life, that could only mean one thing: a predator approaching.

"Shit!" he swore, leaping to his feet and turning in the same movement. He saw Bones flinch at his sudden movement at the same time he noticed a giant, towering black spider looming behind his best friend. His heart stopped.

Confused by Jim's actions, Leonard took a step back with a questioning gaze. As he did, Leonard watched all the color drain from Jim's face; his bright blues eyes filled with alarm.

"Bones!" Jim screamed, reaching out, but too late.

The spider struck out with its stinger, plunging it into the back of McCoy's neck. It took only a second and McCoy's eyes rolled up into his head. In an instant, he collapsed onto the ground in a heap. The next, Jim was already rushing forward to check on his friend, his phaser out and shooting at the offending creature.

Alerted by Jim's yell, Spock and Sulu came to their defense, bringing out their phasers. After a few shots, the spider went angrily lumbering after the two, but not before striking out one leg. It struck Jim directly in the chest, sweeping him completely off his feet and throwing him against the stone wall.

There was a loud crunch as Jim collided with the rocks and landed heavily onto the ground.

Immediately, fire screamed through his whole body. His vision wavered as a sharp pain stabbed through his skull. A groan may have escaped him at this point. He wasn't sure. Everything was swirling around him, fading into black around the corners.

Weakly, he struggled to pick himself up - to get to Bones, to help Spock and Sulu - but his body just couldn't take the damage. His vision blurred and faded.

The last thing he saw was Bones lying barely ten feet away from him, his hand outstretched, as if reaching out to him.

And there wasn't a damn thing Jim could do about it.

Fuck.

Consciousness came to Jim slowly. Every second was filled with some sort of throbbing. He first became aware of the aching of his chest, then the side-splitting pain of his head. Concussion and possibly broken ribs? Check. Any idea where he was? None.

Shit. That never boded well for him.

Noises flittered through the haze of pain and he clung to it, using them to pull him upwards. He could recognize Spock and Sulu's voices. Both seemed to be arguing about something calmly (probably due to Spock's influence). Inwardly, he let out a sigh of relief. They had escaped unharmed then, which meant they would have gotten to Bones. Yet, something was off.

As if that thought set it off, Jim's entire world was flipped in a nauseating manner. Then his heart sank. They weren't out of danger yet. Otherwise, why the hell would he be tied up upside down?!

"Captain?" came Spock's voice. "Are you conscious now?"

Jim actually worked to shove his nausea down and forced his pains aside before he opened his eyes in response to Spock.

"Ugh. I hate waking up to the feeling of blood rushing to my head," groaned Jim.

From his position, Jim could easily see Spock wrapped up in a hardened cocoon of white, slender silk nearby him. The Vulcan was also tied upside down; the cocoon enveloping him so much that Jim could only see Spock from the chin up. He turned his head to his right and saw Sulu and Bones not too far from Spock and him. All were as wrapped up as Spock and he had no doubt that he was in a similar situation.

"You sound like you have had this experience before," teased Sulu. "Kinky."

Jim rolled his eyes, biting down the rising bile. "Can't say I've ever been wrapped up in a cocoon of spider-web before. This is new, even for me."

McCoy let out an unhappy grunt as he slowly came awake, joining in the fray.

"Hey, Bones!" Jim said cheerfully. "How nice of you to join us!"

"What the fuck?" McCoy grated out. "If this is you playing a prank on me, Jim, I swear to God I will hypo you into oblivion."

"That doesn't seem very nice, Bones. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today."

"Damn it, Jim! At least tell me you have a plan to get out of this mess!" A pause. "How the hell did this happen anyway? What did you do, Jim?!"

"Hey! For once, it's not my fault! Spock here decided to not let us know that this planet is inhabited by giant tarantulas..."

"I did inform you of the creatures that reside on this planet, Captain," interrupted Spock, sounding a little miffed.

"Yeah, but you failed to mention how freaking huge the damn things were. And Sulu over there was the one who wanted to come into its lair in the first place. You didn't help much either, Bones, being the first one taken out."

"Fine fine, it's not your fault. I'm sorry for automatically assuming that you had a hand in this. Are you happy now, Jim?" huffed Bones.

"Yep."

"Now will you figure out how to get us out of this?"

"Preferably before the spider comes back," Sulu piped in.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm working on it. Don't get your panties in a bunch," responded Jim, already starting to wiggle around, testing how tight the cocoon was.

"Captain, may I ask what you are planning?" asked Spock.

"Hmm...just trying to..." Jim let out a pained grunt as his head hit the edge of his hardened cocoon.

"Jim?!" barked Bones.

"I'm fine," Jim quickly called out and grinned at Spock. "Don't worry, buddy. I'll be over in a jiffy to free you."

Jim began to move again, though Bones and Sulu could only see his head wiggling. Spock, on the other hand, could hear a sort of sawing sound emitting from Jim. The point of a knife broke through the surface near where Jim's chest should be and suddenly, all of his actions made sense.

"Boot knife?" Sulu asked.

"Yeah," replied Jim. "Told you it comes in handy."

"I really should start carrying around one of those."

Jim chuckled. "I'll make it a ship-wide order for all Starfleet officers to carry one, just so you don't feel alone in the matter."

Jim continued to cut through the hard shell, his face furrowed in concentration. Beads of sweat dripped down his brow; the pressure of hanging upside while exerting so much energy to cut through the plaster-like material was getting to him. It wasn't helping his concussion either. His vision blurred and he struggled to maintain an even breathing pattern, but that was somewhat difficult when he had a couple of bruised ribs. Well, at least they were only bruised, albeit badly, and not cracked or broken. That would've made things so much more difficult.

Finally, Jim managed to crack open the covering over his torso to his neck. The pieces of cocoon fell to the floor where it shattered to smaller pieces. Jim grinned as he stretched out his arms, but he only let himself bask in his success for a brief moment before he exhaled and did a crunch up to work on his legs, hiding his wince as his ribs throbbed harshly.

Sulu let out a low whistle at the sight of Jim holding his position for so long.

Spock sent Sulu a questioning gaze. "I do not understand why you have whistled, Lieutenant Sulu."

"Oh...uh...it's just that it's difficult to hold yourself like the way Kirk is for an extensive amount of time. Most don't have the abs for it."

"Then why must you whistle?"

Jim and Bones both let out a snort.

Jim let himself fall back down to grin at Spock. "Sulu is merely expressing his admiration of how hot my body is. Don't worry about it, Spock," laughed Jim as Sulu spluttered in indignation. "You ready, Spock?"

"For what, may I ask?"

"For me to save you, of course!"

It was only then did the rest of them realize that Jim had already freed himself and was now hanging upside by wrapping his ankles around the strand of spider-web.

"Now when did that happen?" muttered Sulu.

"Jim, please don't tell me you're doing what I think you're doing..." groaned McCoy.

"I would, but then I would be lying," Jim replied as he started to swing his body back and forth

"Just don't break your neck, alright?"

"Sure, Bones, sure."

Jim used the spider-web to increase his momentum and he swung farther and farther like a pendulum. At the apex of his arc, he let go and arched his back so that he managed a flip in mid-air. Gracefully, he reached out towards the end of his somersault and grasped the branch that Spock was connected to. He rode out his momentum, flipping over the branch a few times. Once settled, Jim heaved himself upwards so that he was doing a handstand on the branch and let his legs fall. With absolute perfect timing, Jim twisted his legs so that they went right between the gap his arms created and ended up sitting right on top of the branch.

Turning slightly, Jim smirked at Bones, who rolled his eyes, and Sulu, whose jaw had dropped open.

"Now would be the time for another whistle, Sulu," laughed Jim.

"How...how did you do that?" gaped Sulu.

"I joined a Chinese acrobat act for some time while traveling the Eastern side of the world. Picked up a few tricks."

"How many 'tricks' have you picked up over the years, Jim?" asked Spock.

Jim's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I can't answer that question, Spock. Otherwise, you'd all get bored if I don't surprise you once in a while. Hold still, alright?"

Like before, Jim let himself hang upside, locking his knees around the branch. Wordlessly, he started to dig his knife into Spock's cocoon. He worked quickly and steadily, only slowing down when it started to break apart.

"You can probably free yourself now, Spock," Jim said as the last of the outer shell fell to the ground. "Grab onto me so you don't fall and crack your head open."

Spock nodded and grasped Jim's forearm tightly as he kicked hard, shattering the last of his bindings. He let out a light gasp when his shoulder jarred as gravity pulled him downwards.

"You alright?" grunted Jim. His expression was strained as he struggled with Spock's weight. "Can you get yourself down?"

Spock glanced down and did some quick mental calculations before looking back at Jim. "Yes. You can release me."

Without a second bidding, Jim slowly let Spock go and watched as the Vulcan grab onto a thread of web. Once he slid down to the ground, Spock immediately started to survey their surroundings, looking for an escape route.

With a little bit more effort than before, Jim pulled himself upwards, pausing on top of the branch to breathe through the nausea and pain.

"Jim, you alright?" asked Bones, ever so observant about his best friend's health.

"Yeah, I'm fine..." Jim breathed as he stood, taking his time to find his balance before he took a step onto the thin, but strong threads of web.

As his high-wire act brought him closer to the two, both Sulu and McCoy could see how sweaty and pale his face was, not to mention his staggered breathing pattern. Normal people would have written Jim's state as a result of his aerobatics, but Sulu and McCoy knew better.

"Jim..." McCoy started.

"Later, Bones," sighed Jim, "We don't know when that spider is coming back."

He crouched down and glanced at the two of them. "So, who wants to be freed first?"

Sulu swiveled around the few inches he could and glanced at McCoy. "As much as I would like to be back upright, I think you should get McCoy out first. His face looks like a tomato," said Sulu.

"He always looks like that," grinned Jim.

"That's because you shoot my blood pressure through the roof, Jim!"

"You should learn the meaning of patience, Bones. It'll do you good." But even as he said that, he shifted his weight and dropped downwards. He made sure that Bones couldn't see his face by keeping level with the doctor's chest because he knew that his head and his ribs were screaming at him in protest now. There was no way he would be able to hide that from Bones and he just didn't need to have the doctor hovering over him yet.

"I'm more than patient with you," snapped McCoy, though there was no bite in his words.

Jim worked quickly this time around, knowing that his control over his body was going to fade on him soon. His movements were swift and efficient, slicing through the hard shell with practiced ease. In moments, he was sticking the knife back into his boot and reaching out a hand towards McCoy.

"Grab my hand, Bones. Then kick as hard as you can."

Bones looked uneasy. "You sure?"

"You don't trust me?" asked Jim, his tone light and teasing.

"Of course I trust you. I'm worried about your lack of self-preservation."

In other words, he was afraid that his weight would cause further damage to Jim's already battered body, and he wasn't get to let that happen if he could prevent it.

Jim rolled his eyes, completely understanding Bones' line of thought. "I promise you, if you're going to drag me down, I'll be the first to let you go. Deal?"

Bones nodded, satisfied. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

Bones kicked hard in response and he grunted as he fell, caught by Jim's outstretched hand. His head snapped up as he heard Jim's hiss of pain. Now that he could actually look at his best friend's face, he could see that Jim had gotten paler and there was a greenish tinge to his cheeks. The worst part was that McCoy could tell that Jim's pupils were blown to hell. Instantly, McCoy made the diagnosis.

"Damn it, Jim!" he snarled.

"Bones," Jim cut McCoy off with one strained word. "Grab that spiderweb next to you and get yourself down. I can't hold you for long."

Despite how he hated to leave Jim behind when he clearly needed medical intervention, McCoy knew that he wouldn't help anyone by keeping a hold on his friend. Reaching out, he grasped the web and held himself up for a brief moment.

"The second you get your ass to the ground, you keep it there, ya hear me?"

Jim gave him a small smile. "Sure, Bones. Sure."

Shooting Jim one last concerned look, Bones reluctantly slid downwards. Jim didn't even wait to see if his friend made it safely before he set to work on Sulu.

"Kirk, you don't look so good," Sulu commented.

"Lies, I'm always good-looking," Jim huffed back.

"While that is debatable, you're looking kinda green, man."

"I won't throw up on you, promise. That's reserved for Bones."

"Not exactly what I'm worried about."

"I won't let you fall, Sulu."

"Not worried about that either."

"Spider?"

"That concussion you got going on."

There was a long pause as Jim continued sawing. "I'm fine," he finally returned, knowing full well that he couldn't deny it.

"I'm sure you are. All those back-flipping stunts must've helped quite a bit."

"It did wonders," Jim quipped back. "So, how did you and Spock get taken down by that spider?"

"I got knocked out, like you. I twisted my ankle pretty badly in the process, and I think Shelob stung Spock too."

"Shelob? Really? You're naming the spider after a thousand year old book?"

"Lord of the Rings is a classic! And you're no better for actually knowing what I'm talking about!"

"Genius here, remember? I know all."

Sulu opened his mouth to reply, but was sidetracked by the sound of a sharp cracking above him. "What was that?"

Jim glanced up before turning his attention back to Sulu, his movements quicker now. "Nothing."

"Kirk..." Sulu started, just as another crack could be heard. Then, he felt both of them fall a couple of inches before they stabilized again. He swallowed hard. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Probably," came the flippant answer.

"Shit."

"My sentiments exactly." Kirk was moving furiously now. "Kick when I say, got it?"

"Got it."

Sulu glanced down. They were quite a distance away from the hard ground. If the branch that they were on broke, they would both fall to their deaths. But he didn't feel the gut-wrenching fear as he thought he would upon thinking of his possible immediate death. No, he had faith in the Kirk factor. It had saved him more than once, and he had no doubts that his ingenious leader would pull through again.

Yet, he always forgot how much the universe seemed to hate Kirk. In the next second, the branch holding him snapped, just as the last of the cocoon fell away. His stomach rose into his throat as he plunged downwards, only to be stopped abruptly by Jim lunging for him.

Gravity pulled at Sulu, even as Jim's arm held onto him. With a sickening sound, Sulu both heard and felt Jim's shoulder pop out of its joint under the combination of his weight and momentum.

Jim's yelp of pain froze Sulu's blood.

"Jim!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with worry.

Jim didn't face him, turning his head slightly to avoid contact. "Spock!" shouted Jim. "I can't hold him!"

Then those bright blue eyes were upon him. "Sulu, you trust me, right?"

"With my life."

"Good." And Jim let go of him.

For a heart-stopping moment, Sulu felt terror consume him as he free-fell more than a hundred feet, unable to even let out a scream.

And then there were abnormally warm arms buffering his fall as they caught him. Struggling to breathe normally again, Sulu looked up at Spock.

"Thanks, Spock," he breathed.

"You are welcome. How is Jim?" Spock asked as he set Sulu down on the ground.

Sulu let out a small cry as he accidentally put pressure on his left ankle. Immediately, Spock reached out to steady him.

"It seems your ankle is broken, Lieutenant."

Sulu waved Spock away, looking skywards for Jim. Their fearless leader was sliding down a rope of spider-web with one arm; his right was held rigidly against his side. As he came closer to the ground, it became obvious that his right shoulder wasn't aligned properly. It almost made Sulu nauseous to see Jim's arm a few centimeters longer than it should be.

McCoy was already waiting for Jim, tapping his foot impatiently. As soon as Jim's feet touched the floor, McCoy descended on him like a swarm of locusts, helping him to sit comfortably on a rock as the doctor checked him over.

Sulu flinched at the sound of Jim hissing in pain as McCoy touched his dislocated shoulder. Jim glanced up at Sulu at that moment, frowning in concern at him.

"You okay, Sulu?"

"I'm fine. I'm not the one with a dislocated shoulder."

"Not a big deal." Jim shuffled a little, earning him a glare from Bones, before giving Sulu a sheepish expression. "Sorry, Sulu."

Sulu frowned. "What for? I'm the one who pulled your arm out of your joint."

"I said I wouldn't let you fall."

Ah, Kirk's shyness made sense now. Words for Kirk held such heavy meaning. Sulu wasn't sure if it was a result of Jim's absentee mother or his apparently horrid childhood, but Jim never made a promise that he couldn't or wouldn't keep. Not for the first time, Sulu felt a rush of anger at whomever or whatever it was that damaged such a kind soul.

So there was only one thing Sulu could do at that point: shrug and give an air of nonchalance. "No harm, no foul."

Jim's blue eyes brightened up and Sulu gave him a warm smile. It lasted for maybe a second before Jim's "Captain" face was back on.

"Spock, do we have a way out?"

Spock gave him a nod, "Yes. There seems to be a tunnel leading out; however, I cannot be entirely sure."

"That's a start. We have any supplies?"

"Negative. I have a communicator and Doctor McCoy has his tricorder."

"Which is more than enough. Come on, we should get going before the spider comes back."

Spock just raised his eyebrow at Jim, who was looking far more haggard than he probably had expected. The young Captain was extremely pale, his body was stiff with pain. Spock could easily read injured ribs, based on past experiences.

Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, and I'm a fairy princess," grumbled McCoy as he read the readings of his tricorder.

"Doctor?" Spock prompted.

"He's got a pretty bad concussion, a few bruised ribs, and a dislocated shoulder."

"I could've told you that," muttered Jim. "Bones, just shove my shoulder back in."

"Is that a good idea?" asked Sulu.

"No. Without medical supplies, we can't guarantee lasting nerve damage," answered Leonard, but even as he said that, he was already considering it. Because knowing Jim, he would pop it back in regardless of the consequences. It would be safer if Bones did it for him.

And Jim knew it too. Jim just sucked in a breath and tried to relax his body. "Do it."

Bones didn't even give Jim a warning before he expertly popped Jim's shoulder back into its joint.

His vision went white for a brief second as his nerves ignited with fire. He couldn't hold back the scream of pain completely and he hunched over himself, hugging his throbbing, aching shoulder against his body. Instantly, he felt warm hands keeping him from falling over.

"Breathe, Jim. Breathe!" Bones' voice said urgently through the burning agony.

Forcing himself to obey his friend, Jim inhaled and exhaled deeply, working past the nerve-wracking pain. By the time he pushed it back to a low throb and opened his eyes, Spock, Sulu, and Bones were hovering close to his face.

Uncomfortable with intimacy, Jim shuffled back a couple of centimeters. "I'm fine, guys."

All three raised one eyebrow at him.

"Have you guys been practicing that?" But Jim's joke fell flat with how weak his voice was.

Suddenly, a resounding thud echoed in the cavern, followed quickly by another and another. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was making those sounds.

Jim lunged to his feet, stumbling slightly before Bones steadied him. "Spock, you said there was a tunnel?" he said quickly.

"Yes, but I cannot ascertain if it is indeed a way out."

"Best shot we got now. Sulu, can you walk?"

Sulu winced. "Maybe?"

Jim just turned back to Spock and gave him a curt nod. Immediately, Sulu found himself being supported by the Vulcan and already rushed to the tunnel, followed closely by McCoy and Jim.

"Bones, give me your tricorder," yelled Jim as they sprinted the hundred meters to the exit.

McCoy knew better than to question his friend and tossed it to him. As he did, he caught sight of the massive spider lumbering towards them. Fear licked at him until he saw Jim tinkering with the tricorder with one hand. The younger man had an expression of determination; there were no signs of concern or panic – just the look of a man with a plan.

If anything, that was what allayed McCoy's trepidation and he reached out to grab Jim's left elbow, guiding him so that he could focus solely on whatever it was that he was working on. Jim subtly shook him off and pushed him deeper into the tunnel that they had just run into.

Jim glanced up once, checking the location of his friends in front of him before stopping a few feet from the entrance.

Only McCoy noticed and he skidded to a stop as well. "Jim, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

At his words, Spock and Sulu faltered, looking back at them.

Jim waved them forward. "Keep going! Go! I'll be right behind you."

But none of them listened and even took a step towards him as Shelob closed in. Jim didn't have time to worry anymore. In that moment, the spider was a mere ten meters from them.

Gritting his teeth, Jim threw the configured tricorder as far as he could. It landed a few feet before Shelob and immediately, Jim turned and started to run away, pulling Bones with him. Spock and Sulu followed suit. They only managed to clear another ten meters before a massive explosion rocked them off their feet, throwing them onto their stomachs. Seconds later, rocks crumbled to the ground, forcing them to shield their heads with the arms. Sound of large crashes, like canons striking a stone castle, reverberated in their ears. The high pitched, inhuman shriek was cut off as large boulders landed harshly onto the ground, crushing whatever was beneath it.

Then, there was silence.

Breathing heavily, all four turned slightly to look backwards. The entrance was now caved in, covered in huge stones; the spider was no longer in sight.

"Shit, Kirk…did you just…?" breathed Sulu, disbelief clear on his face.

"Did I just create a grenade out of a medical tricorder?" Jim grinned broadly. "Yeah, I did."

Sulu whistled. "Damn."

Jim chuckled, but his laughs ended in wheezing coughs.

McCoy reached over, patting Jim on the back. "You cracked your ribs with that stunt, didn't you?"

There was no answer except harsh breathing.

"Captain, are you alright?" asked Spock as he rose to a sitting position.

"Yeah…" Jim panted. With Bones' help, he pulled himself upright and leaned against the wall of the tunnel. His sore right arm was hanging limply by his side while his left curled around his chest. His face was paler than before; dust stuck to his skin because of the sweat that covered his brow. Jim could feel his control over his body fading as the adrenaline started leaving his veins.

"At least Shelob isn't a problem now," murmured Sulu. "All that's left is to get out."

"Does our communicator work?" asked Jim.

Spock checked quickly. "No, it does not. There seems to be interference."

"Of course," grumbled McCoy, "Why does that not surprise me?"

"Spock, take Bones and see if you can find an exit."

"First of all, I'm going nowhere with that green-blooded hobgoblin. Secondly, we're not leaving you alone while you're injured."

"I agree with Doctor McCoy."

"You're not leaving me alone. I've got Sulu, right?"

Sulu looked unsure. "I've got a broken ankle. There's not much I can do."

Jim sighed as the overprotective hens stood over him. "Someone has to explore this place and you both know as well as I that it isn't wise to do that alone. And it doesn't make any sense for injured people to join in the exploration."

"It doesn't make any sense for injured people to remain alone and vulnerable in an unknown place," returned Spock.

"Does it look like we're in any danger here? None of our injuries are so severe that it's life-threatening – just inconvenient."

"Jim, I do not feel comfortable traveling with Doctor McCoy and leaving you two behind."

"I can make this an order, you know."

"Captain…"

"You're wasting time arguing with me, Spock. You know I'm being logical."

Spock did know and recognized the resolution within his Captain's blue eyes. Lieutenant Sulu had a broken ankle and no weapons; Jim had a boot knife, but probably couldn't even see straight. As Jim had said, there were no life-threatening injuries. At worst, Jim could have some lasting nerve damage caused by his relocated shoulder. It made sense for both Spock and Doctor McCoy to wander out – the two of them could cover more ground than Spock alone. Kirk's logic was sound, but that didn't mean that he was pleased with leaving him behind.

His shoulders dropped minutely – the change in posture so small that no one but Uhura or Kirk could have noticed. As it was, Jim knew immediately that he had won the argument, at least with Spock.

"Don't go too far in. If you can't find anything within half an hour, turn back and we'll figure something else out. Don't separate, alright, you two? Caves can be tricky. Be careful of sinkholes and watch where your feet go. It can get slippery in here. Got it?"

"Understood."

"Are you serious, Spock? We're really just going to frolic outta here and leave two injured people alone?"

"I assure you, Doctor, there will be no 'frolicking' involved. As to the second part of your question, Jim's logic is sound and we will return swiftly."

"Half an hour, Bones. Thirty minutes. That's all."

McCoy glared between Jim and Spock for a moment before conceding. He sighed and ran his fingers through his short hair. "Fine. Thirty minutes. Don't do anything stupid while we're gone, ya hear, Jim?"

"Who me?" Jim smiled with all his teeth, perfectly imitating the tone of a Southern Belle. "Why, I never."

Bones just glowered at him.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yes, got it. Nothing stupid. Scout's honor."

"Like you were ever a boyscout," Bones muttered back. "Come on, hobgoblin, let's go."

The two cast one last worried glance at Jim and Sulu before heading down the long tunnel. As they disappeared into the darkness, Jim finally sagged against the wall, leaning heavily upon it for support. He closed his eyes as he swallowed hard, hoping that it would alleviate his nausea, but with no avail.

Sulu cleared his throat.

"What, Sulu?" sighed Jim. "You want to lecture me too?"

"Nope. That's not my job."

Jim heard shuffling noises and cracked open an eye to see Sulu moving abnormally close to him. The pilot's face was pinched in pain and, like Jim, dust was sticking to his skin because of the sheen of sweat.

"You alright?"

Sulu gave him a look.

Jim chuckled, "Right. Stupid question."

"You're turning a bit green, Kirk."

"I'm setting a new fashion trend. Trying to be more like Spock."

Sulu laughed, sending vibrations across their touching shoulders. Before Jim could really comprehend was going on, Sulu had snaked an arm behind his back and pushed his head to lean on him.

Shock made him struggle for a brief moment before Sulu gently patted his head, like he was comforting a small child.

"You've done enough for now, Kirk. The least I can do is get you comfortable, so just relax. Or McCoy will have both our asses."

Feeling slightly abashed and touched, Jim forced himself to relax by a small increment. He was tired and his head was killing him. It couldn't hurt to rely on someone else for once.

Sulu smiled at the small measure of trust Jim had placed in him and shifted again, making it more comfortable for Jim to lean his head on his shoulder. As he did, Jim's keen ears caught an odd sound.

He stiffened and raised his head, frowning as he peered down the tunnel where they had come from. Sulu knew better than to ask and felt his hand twitching towards where his phaser was supposed to be.

Suddenly, the sounds of thunder echoed around them and Jim felt his heart stop when he realized what it meant.

"Fuck!" He lunged to his feet, wavering slightly, before roughly jerking Sulu up to his feet.

Sulu yelped as he accidentally put pressure on his broken foot. Jim ignored it, wrapping Sulu's arm around his shoulders and started running them both down the route that McCoy and Spock had taken earlier.

The crashes of rocks tumbling down around them grew louder and louder until that was all that they could hear. Dust and debris came flying up as boulders collapsed into the tunnel, sending huge tremors through the ground. Stones of all sizes rained down, making it hard to see and navigate through. Jim stumbled more than once, trying to catch his footing while keeping Sulu steady, but Mother Nature was not their friend.

A large crack resonated directly above their heads.

"Jim!" shouted Sulu.

His warning was all Jim had before pandemonium broke loose.

Panic rushed through Jim's veins as he helplessly watched their only hope of escape disappear behind a curtain of rock. In that second, Sulu threw himself on top of Jim, protecting his friend as best as he could. Jim felt Sulu's body jolt as a rock struck him sharply on the head just as the last of the rocks settled.

Only then did he see the blood pool around the ground where Sulu had collapsed, diluting into the icy, cool freshwater that streamed around them. Frantically, Jim pressed his fingers against Sulu's neck and found a strong, steady pulse.

Reassured that Sulu had only been knocked out and nothing worse, Jim quickly surveyed their surroundings, scanning for an exit. The explosion earlier had decimated any support that the already unstable cave had and unearthed an underground river.

Now, they were trapped within a stone tomb with the water levels around them climbing steadily higher and higher, and Sulu was completely out for the count.

Jim didn't have to be a genius to know that they were in deep, deep trouble.

He tightened his grip on Sulu to keep both their heads above water, sucked in a deep breath, and did the only thing he could do: shout as loudly as he could and hope that somehow, Spock could hear him.

"I think we should go back," McCoy said for the fifth time.

Spock would have sighed if he wasn't a Vulcan. "I understand. I am also concerned about Jim and Lieutenant Sulu. However, it would be more beneficial to them if we return to the Enterprise as soon as possible. As such, it is only logical if we search for an exit."

"I know, I know. I get that." McCoy shoved his hands into his pocket. "Doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it."

"That does not seem any different than usual, Doctor McCoy."

Leonard glared at Spock. "Like you're any better, you emotionless, green-blooded pointy-eared…"

Spock raised his hand as his entire body stiffened, warning Leonard into silence as he cocked his head, listening intently. McCoy gave Spock a questioning gaze.

"I heard something."

"Obviously. What did you hear?"

"Thunder? I am not sure. It has stopped already."

"Then let's keep going. The sooner we find an exit, the better."

McCoy took two steps forward before Spock reached out and gripped him hard on his upper arm.

He jerked back. "What?"

Spock paled and something akin to fear crossed his face.

McCoy swallowed hard as a stone dropped in his stomach. "What?" he repeated, almost breathlessly. But he knew the answer before Spock even spoke.

"I think I hear Jim's voice."

McCoy didn't need further explanation. Both of them immediately turned tail and ran back the way they had come. Within a few meters, water was already sloshing at their feet. Another twenty feet and the sight of a closed off tunnel greeted them. By then, the water was already up to the middle of the calves and even McCoy could now clearly hear Jim's hoarse shouts.

He rushed forward, pounding at the rocks as Spock scanned for weak points. "Jim! JIM! Can you hear me?"

"Bones!" Jim's shout came from a few feet above their heads. "Bones, you got to get Sulu out of here!"

"We're working on it. What the hell happened?"

"Let's just say, blowing up Shelob wasn't exactly a great idea." A cough. "Bones, Sulu's hurt. You got to help him!"

"We gotta get you both out first. Spock, any luck?"

"There is no such thing as luck, Doctor; however, we seem to be out of it," Spock said from where he was crouching.

"What are you talking about, Spock?"

"The rocks have been firmly wedged into place by the weight of the other boulders upon it. It is nearly impossible to create an opening without causing a further cascade, which could harm Jim and Lieutenant Sulu."

"Risk it! Jim's smart enough to avoid falling rocks!"

"That may be so, but Jim said that Lieutenant Sulu was injured, which means that he, alone, is keeping both of them afloat. It will make it substantially more difficult to avoid falling debris."

"What the hell is taking both of you so long?!" shouted Jim. His voice was now at least ten feet above them.

"Jim!" called Spock, "Whatever we do next will cause another collapse. Attempt to awaken Lieutenant Sulu and prepare yourselves."

"Understood. Just us the hell out of here!"

Jim grunted as he adjusted his grip on Sulu. The Asian man was still unconscious, even as the water licked at his chin. Exhaustion was quickly catching up on Jim. His previous injuries combined with carrying another man was draining every single store of energy Jim had. Jim's overworked muscles screamed at him, crying with every movement he made.

He glanced up. There were only a couple more feet to the ceiling before the entire compartment would be flooded. Spock had better work fast.

Jim shifted again, maneuvering Sulu around so that he had one arm free. Then, he slapped Sulu's cheek. Over and over again.

"Wake up, damn it!" He groaned. "Great, now I'm sounding like Bones…"

One more loud smack and Sulu came awake with a splutter and a moan.

"Good morning, sunshine," grinned Jim, barely hiding a grunt as one of Sulu's floundering arms jabbed into his cracked ribs. "Easy there. I've got you."

"What the hell is going on?"

"You got knocked on the head pretty hard, thanks to your idiotic attempts to shield me."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah, it did. Thanks. Doesn't mean you're not an idiot."

"Pot, meet kettle."

Jim rolled his eyes and pounded on the wall. "Spock! We ready?"

"Yes. I will count to three." A pause. "Please, be careful."

Jim and Sulu were now straining their necks to get to their precious air.

"Do it, do it, do it!" shouted Jim, right as the water completely enveloped them.

The next few seconds were complete utter chaos.

As Spock removed a particularly large boulder from the right corner of the wall, water from the chamber immediately started gushing out. Both Spock and McCoy leapt back, trying to keep their footing.

Within, the water churned and swirled like a whirlpool, dragging Sulu and Jim downwards. They spun, tumbled, and flipped – unable to make heads or tails of what was up or down. Rocks crashed around them, sending course-altering waves towards them. Each piece of debris was large enough to crush them to pieces, but with whatever mercy the heavens were showing them, the current pulled and jerked them to narrowly miss each one.

From the corner of his eye, Jim watched Sulu twirl beside him and felt immense relief to see that they were both heading towards the small hole that Spock had created for them. But that was shattered a moment later when Jim saw a large boulder sinking directly above Sulu.

With the last piece of his strength, Jim propelled himself forward and kicked at Sulu, shoving him those last few feet to their escape.

Sulu flipped around in time to see Jim give him a reassuring smile before the rock pinned him to the floor. Bubbles fled Sulu's mouth as he shouted at Jim, reaching for him even as the current forced him out.

That was the last thing Jim saw before his lungs gave out on him and everything turned to black.

Sulu came shooting out of the hole like a cannonball, washing out with a heaving, coughing splutter. Instantly, hands were pulling him upright, away from the shallow pool around their feet.

"You're alright, man. You're alright."

Sulu recognized that Southern accent easily enough and reached up, groping. He gripped McCoy's upper arm tightly.

"Jim…" he breathed.

A flash of panic spread across McCoy's face. "What about Jim?"

"T-trapped! Save him!"

Water splashed onto Sulu's face with the sudden movements of the Vulcan. Bewildered, he turned to see Spock tearing apart the rocks near the opening. The stream had slowed as the amount of water within the chamber reached a low level and Spock didn't hesitate to dive head-first into the cavern.

The Vulcan splashed towards Jim, dropping to a knee beside his friend. Jim was lying motionless on his back, his eyes closed. The rock covered the majority of his chest, crushing him below the water level.

With strength surging in his veins, Spock sprang to his feet and used his entire body to shove at the pinning stone. His shoulder cried in pain as it jammed into the hard, unforgiving surface, but he paid it no attention. He let out a roar of determination and pushed everything he had into the push.

The boulder finally fell aside, freeing the Enterprise's Captain from its grasp. But Jim didn't even flinch.

Spock reached for him with trembling hands. "Jim?"

No response.

His mind shut down and with instincts driving his actions, he gathered Jim into his arms and ran to the one person who could help Jim.

McCoy had just gotten the story out of Sulu when Spock rushed out. All the blood in the Georgian man froze at the sight of Jim's limp and pale body in Spock's arms.

"Doctor, he's not breathing," Spock exclaimed. The expressionless mask he always had on was broken, revealing pure, unadulterated panic and fear. Fear for Jim.

That, more than anything, spurred McCoy into action.

"Set him down and lay him flat. You breathe and I'll compress," McCoy dictated.

Spock instantly obeyed, tilting and lifting Jim's head in preparation for resuscitation breaths. Leonard pressed his entwined hands onto Jim's unmoving chest and compressed thirty times. As soon as he stopped, Spock pinched Jim's nose shut and leaned down, sealing his mouth over Jim's and breathed twice for Jim.

McCoy immediately began compressions again. He winced as he heard the resounding crack as his efforts to save Jim broke his already compromised ribs, but he couldn't stop now.

Thirty chest compressions, two resuscitation breaths, and repeat.

Sweat was dripping down McCoy's neck from the strain and Spock's lips were swelling slightly from pressing them onto Jim's.

Minutes passed. Only the sounds of McCoy's "please don't do this to me, Jim, damn it," and Spock's ragged breathing could be heard. When McCoy tired ten minutes later and checked for signs of life, Spock and him wordlessly switched position. Keeping back his Vulcan strength, Spock continued to administer compressions while McCoy pressed his lips onto Jim's and breathed for his best friend.

Thirty chest compressions, two resuscitation breaths, and repeat.

Eighteen minutes and fifty-three seconds later, Jim took his first ragged breath. His blue eyes fluttered open and he almost choked as he struggled to draw in as much air as possible.

McCoy grabbed Jim's face, his hands on Jim's cheeks, and forced the panicking man to look at him. "Jim! Breathe with me! In, out. In, out. There we go. You got it…"

Tears fell unbidden from Jim's eyes as he finally managed to get his respiration under control. His entire body shook from the ordeal, sending shooting pain through him. He was vaguely aware of Spock beside him; Spock's warm hands were on his shoulder. He couldn't tell if it was just him shaking, or if the Vulcan was too.

He took a couple of shuddering breaths before clearing his throat. "Sulu?" he rasped.

"You damn son of a bitch…" swore McCoy, falling back on his heels and pretty much collapsing beside Jim. "He's fine, thanks to you."

"Good…" Jim's eyes slid shut.

"Jim?" asked Spock.

"I'm a'rite," he mumbled back. "Just tired."

McCoy let out a huff of relief. "Spock, is the communicator working yet?"

Spock pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to the doctor. Sounds of water dripping down reached Jim's ears.

He couldn't help but chuckle. 'Anything that could go wrong, would go wrong', was it? Ugh. He hated ancient philosophy.

"You've finally gone mad, haven't you, Kirk?" Sulu said, exasperated. "Even you can't be that crafty to fix a water-logged communicator."

"No, that's not it. Just thinking that I really hate Murphy's Law," replied Jim, sitting up. He winced as the movement put pressure on his ribs. "Bones, did you break my ribs?"

The incredulous tone set McCoy on fire. "I saved your damn life, you freakin' moron."

"If you did the compressions…" Jim's eyes widened. "Spock, you kissed me?!"

The last part came out in a squeak and Spock's cheeks blushed green, but his tone betrayed none of his shyness. "It was necessary, Captain, as you were not breathing on your own."

"Actually, they both kissed you," Sulu piped in.

Jim groaned. "No one tell Uhura. She'll never let me live it down."

"That's all you care about?" snapped McCoy, standing up. "I just saw you carried out like a lifeless doll and breathed for you because you weren't fucking doing it on your own. And all you care about is your goddamn reputation?!"

Jim reached out, grasping McCoy's wrist weakly. His bright blue eyes swallowed McCoy until he was nothing but Bones again. "I'm sorry, Bones. I didn't mean to worry you, or anyone else, for that matter."

Bones deflated, knowing full well that he couldn't remain angry at his friend for so long. "Just don't do it again, Jim."

Jim gave him a small smile. "Sure, Bones, sure."

But both of them knew that behind those empty words, Jim couldn't make that promise. He wouldn't either. Not when there were so many lives that he was responsible for. It just wouldn't be Jim if he didn't care for others.

Bones sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Let's just get out of this damn cave and we'll figure out the whole communicator situation."

"For once, I agree with you, Doctor."

"For once? Are all my ideas so fantastical that you'd never consider them?" McCoy shot back.

"Your words, Doctor."

"Well, you can take my words and shove them up your…"

"Bones," interrupted Jim. "I thought we were going to get out?"

Bones huffed and stalked up to Sulu, pulling the slightly terrified man up to his feet. The doctor, while rough generally, was sure to keep Sulu off his broken ankle. "Spock, you got Jim?"

Spock nodded and stepped before Jim, kneeling down so that his back faced Jim. "Climb on, Jim."

"You are not piggy-backing me, Spock."

"You are exhausted and injured. You have also just recovered from respiratory arrest. Logically, you should have no strength to stand on your feet, let alone walk alongside us. This is, as you say, a 'one time offer'. Now, get on my back."

Jim grumbled quietly before obeying his First Officer, but not before he made one last comment. "If anyone cracks a joke about me riding Spock, I will kick you where the sun don't shine. Got it?"

McCoy and Sulu chuckled, the relief that their friend was alright making them slightly giddy.

"We wouldn't dream of it," said Sulu, grinning.

"Captain, what do you mean by 'riding me'?" asked Spock. "I am not familiar with that colloquialism."

Jim groaned, burying his head into Spock's shoulder, as McCoy and Sulu broke out into guffaws.

"How is this my life?" whined Jim.

"You love it, and you know it," returned Bones.

Jim couldn't help it. He grinned back, his blue eyes sparkling.

God help him, but he really did love his life. Shelob, near-drownings, and the snark included.

Perhaps, he truly was just an ingenious idiot.

(By the time Spock, McCoy, Sulu, and Jim had made it back out to the jungle, the rest of the Bridge crew of Enterprise and a few Redshirts were already waiting for them, worry and concern written all over their faces. Within minutes, they were all beamed back. Jim and Sulu found themselves in MedBay and McCoy had lots of fun hypospraying the two while Spock hovered around, giving them the "eyebrow of death", as a drugged up Kirk liked to call it.

Later, when Uhura, Chekov, and Scotty asked them what the hell had happened in the three hours that they were down there, the four of them just looked at each other, unable to really explain it in a way that didn't sound like they were pulling it out of their asses.

So Jim just gave them a lazy smile and said two simple words. "Murphy's Law."

Because truly, it really did describe everything that went down.

And then Jim was forbidden from leaving the ship. Again.

They were all a load of wet blankets, the lot of them.

But Jim wouldn't change it for the world, Murphy's Law be damned.)

Chapter Text

V

Where There's A Will, There's A Way

It was all Chekov's fault. That was Jim's story and that was what he was sticking with. Not that he wasn't somewhat to blame for his current situation, which actually could have been pretty cool if the lives of his crew weren't at stake.

As it was, Jim found himself holding a weapon that he had only seen in holos - a pair of sais - and clashing against those who stood between him and Uhura's life. For the first time, Jim actually thought that perhaps Sulu had a point to never letting him beam down, because clearly, trouble follows him everywhere.

It started out as a simple task (wasn't it always?) to visit the Kalians - a race that had started developing advanced technology - and see if they were interested in joining the Federation. The people resembled those that lived on Nibiru - pale with large black eyes and extremely pronounced blackish veins - and they prided on scientific knowledge as well as physical prowess. They towered at an average of seven to eight feet and were abnormally built with bulging muscles that a body builder would be jealous of. Their homeland resembled that of Ancient Greece: dirt roads and marble architecture marvels. They were especially proud of the large courts where they gathered to pit two fighters together, using lives as stakes. Such entertainment were an often occurrence and they seemed to revel in the bloodshed.

Jim had blistered at the thought of needless deaths for the sake of "fun". It cut close to a memory of Tarsus when Kodos forced starving children to fight to the death, only to kill the survivor seconds after his victory. Just the mere idea of it had filled Jim's blood with cold fury, but he had a job to do. He had no place to judge another culture from his eyes - he had to see things as they saw it. From what he could tell, being able to fight in these games as the defending champion was an immense honor. It was an entirely different story for the one opposing - usually, it was a form of punishment of definite death.

When Jim, Spock, Bones, Chekov, and Uhura met with the Kalians' Emperor, they were met with decorum and excitement, even though they were forced to hand over all their phasers and communicators. Bones was allowed to keep his tricorder, just in case Jim had an allergic reaction. Though unusual of a race that reveled in bloodshed, Jim didn't question the Kalians' insistence on entering their grand hall weaponless - a goodwill gesture on their part - though he came to regret that decision later.

The Emperor's scientists had worked hard to develop warp technology. Even Spock had to admit that their ridiculously rapid progress of a few decades was a stroke of brilliance of a few people, quite like Leonardo Da Vinci and Benjamin Franklin in their time. So Jim just smiled and let Spock and Chekov talk science with them. It seemed to make them especially happy to talk with geniuses of their caliber.

That was until Chekov, in his excitement, accidentally brushed the right hand of the Empress amidst his floundering, which was a criminal offense. And then, in his haste to apologize, he backed directly into a medium-sized podium in the center of the Great Hall that held the natives' sacred, gold-leaf covered chalice. The delicate artifact tilted off its pillow and crashed to the ground, scattering into hundreds of smaller pieces.

The outraged cry from the Emperor was the only warning the crew of the Enterprise had before Chekov was surrounded by phasers a few inches from his face. As soon as the Kalians moved a single finger, Jim sprang forward, forcing his way in so that he stood between Chekov and the enraged Emperor. Spock and Bones both flanked him, glaring daggers at the Emperor, while Uhura stood directly behind Chekov, covering their backs. Jim could feel Chekov cowering behind him, confused and scared. That alone made everyone in the crew tense with subdued anger. Chekov, being the youngest, had become a sort of mascot among them. His cheery disposition often saved them from a foul or upset mood. He was their little brother, and they were all fiercely protective of him.

"You dare defy our laws?!" roared the Emperor, rising to his feet in a fit of fury.

Jim didn't flinch at the sight of the eight and a half foot alien towering over him. "I'll do more than that if you continue to threaten my Ensign," replied Jim, keeping his tone level and calm. "He meant no harm and as his Captain and superior, I apologize on his behalf."

"He destroyed our Mother Goddess' relic! He must pay!"

"He is under my command. I will take full responsibility and whatever punishment you deem fit."

"Jim!" hissed Bones as a warning.

Chekov was frantically tugging on the back of Jim's shirt, trying to get his friend to take back his words, but Jim ignored them both.

He raised his chin defiantly and his blue eyes were hard with determination. "I take full responsibility for him. Do what you will with me, just leave him be."

The Empress leaned forward from her bejeweled throne and gazed at Jim with fascination and confusion. "The young one's crimes are only punishable by death. And yet, you are still willing to take his place?"

Jim squared his shoulders and without hesitation, "Yes."

After a moment of consideration, the Emperor sat back down and nodded. "You are brave, Captain Kirk, and that is admirable. Very well, I will allow you to take your Ensign's place on the execution block."

He flicked his wrist in a dismissive manner. "Take them away."

"Them? What do you mean by 'them'?" exclaimed Jim as soldiers roughly grabbed his arms and pressed them harshly behind his back.

He twisted, seeing Spock, Bones, and Uhura all shouting and struggling against their imprisoning guards.

"Let them go! We had an agreement!" yelled Jim, "My life for theirs!"

"You traded your life for the Ensign's, not for theirs. One life is not tantamount to four," the Emperor rumbled.

Jim dug his heels into the ground, preventing his captors from moving him anywhere. "Why must their lives be forfeited?! They have done no wrong!"

"The punishment for touching and subsequently breaking our Mother Goddess' Holy Relic is the immediate execution of the offender and his family. You were the one who said that your crew is equivalent to your family, were you not?"

Fuck. Jim had to give him that one, but he would be damned if he let his friends come to harm.

"Kirk, do something!" exclaimed Uhura, already being dragged off by a single soldier.

Spock was being handled by three (which Jim kind of took offense to, since he only had two), while McCoy was being taken care of in a similar manner as Uhura.

Chekov had run off, pointlessly kicking at the legs of the guard that had a hold on Uhura, shouting and cursing in Russian. Jim really had to talk to the young man about his foul language when they got out of this.

"Jim!" Bones shouted.

It had been a while since Jim had actually heard a twinge of fear in his best friend's voice, and a haze of red covered his vision.

With a mighty roar that he didn't think he was capable of, he elbowed his left captor as hard as he could in his right kidney, following by a swift kick at the back of the knees. The soldier went down in a daze while Jim went to town on the one on his right. A few well-placed jabs in the solar plexus and a nice, hard round-house kick to the jaw sent the native flying back a few feet. Without missing a beat, Jim slammed his left foot onto the top of the first soldier's head, cruelly smacking his pale face straight into the marble floor.

"What do you think you are doing?!" screeched the Emperor.

Jim pointed his right index finger straight at the Emperor, a snarl making its way to his face. "I challenge you to a Krav Kali with my friends' lives as the prize."

The Emperor rose, his black eyes glittering in irritation. "We cannot turn down such a challenge."

Jim smirked, "I know. It is written in your laws, is it not? And we all know how much you love your laws. Choose your champions, Emperor, unless you dare to fight me yourself."

"Fine. Guards, take him away and ready him. As for the others, send them to the courts and keep them in individualholdings."

Three more soldiers surrounded Jim, flanking him like Bones and Spock did earlier. He wasn't being treated as a prisoner anymore - just someone they need to keep an eye on.

He flashed his crew a smile. "We're going to be fine, promise."

"Jim, be careful. It will not be easy," said Spock, his tone low and dire.

"When is it ever for us? Chekov, you're a free man, so you're coming with me."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Jim," Bones added, worry written all over his face.

"I always know what I'm doing, Bones. Relax."

"Like I can ever relax when it comes to you. Just, promise me you'll be okay?"

Jim deflected. "Don't let them manhandle you guys too much. You're now prized leverage, so use it against them. Spock, keep them safe, got it?"

"Understood, Captain. And you as well."

"See you all in a bit!" Jim waved.

With a curt nod from the Emperor, Jim was led out of the hall, followed closely by an extremely worried Chekov.

The majestic wooden double doors shut with a loud, resounding thud behind their Captain, as if it was defining the final fate of James T. Kirk.

"So, what the hell is a Krav Kali anyway?" grumbled McCoy to his companions.

He, Spock, and Uhura had been locked within individual jail metal cells at one end of the large gladiator court. They couldn't see past where they had been imprisoned because a curtain covered the outside of their bars - like circus exotic animals ready to be presented to the crowd. As Spock had realized quickly, the bars of their prisons had been modified to have an electric field that sent shocks every time one touched the walls.

The Vulcan was still surveying the cage, looking for weak points, when he answered McCoy. "A Krav Kali is a fight to the death. It is similar to a gladiator battle with primitive weaponry, such as swords or spears; however, there are stakes that one places as collateral. As in something that the defendant is fighting for. In Jim's situation, that would be us."

"I figured that much, you damn hobgoblin."

"Then what are you asking, Doctor?"

"What the hell would a culture that has the beginnings of warp technology choose to fight with swords and outdated crap like that? And why would Jim think that a fight to the death is a good idea?"

"I cannot assume I understand the workings of Jim's mind and therefore I cannot answer that question. I can see logic in his actions, however. The natives seem to revel in these games and it holds great weight within their community. As such, Jim has managed to procure our lives for the moment. Their choice for weaponry could be out of respect of their history. Perhaps they find it more entertaining using weapons that cause a slower and more painful death than phasers."

"Spock, that's not really helping at this moment," sighed Uhura. "You think Kirk can handle a sword? I've seen him fence Sulu once, but he lost."

"Trust me, Jim knows his way around all sorts of weapons," assured McCoy. "He chose to lose to Sulu. He likes to play the 'underestimate me' card a bit too much."

"Like that would help him here. Did you see how he incapacitated his two guards within seconds? I didn't know he could do that."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about him, Uhura. There's a lot of things I don't know, and I like to think I'm pretty close to him."

"So what do you think is going to happen?" she asked, biting her lower lip in worry for their Captain.

"I cannot know for certain, but the most likely scenario is that Jim will have to fight a different opponent for each of us. The Kalians will be the one to choose the weapon of battle." Spock hesitated here. "It will be to the death."

"You've said that, Spock. Kirk'll survive, don't worry."

"That is not what I mean, Nyota. In order to win the challenges, Jim must kill the other. It will be difficult for someone such as him who cares so deeply about life in general."

"It's because he cares deeply that he'll do it without hesitation," Bones said with a sad smile. "If our lives are on the line, do you really think that Jim'll show mercy? The problem isn't how he'll handle killing - it's how he'll react to us seeing him kill."

Loud cheers suddenly erupted around them, sounding like roars of lions defending their pride. Both Uhura and McCoy couldn't suppress a flinch as the curtain surrounding them was roughly drawn upwards, enveloping them an abrupt burst of light.

From where they stood, they could see a huge throng of Kalians sitting in the stands within the circular coliseum. All were pounding, screaming, and raising such a ruckus that it even made Uhura and McCoy's ears hurt. Spock had paled at the thunderous noise, but that could have also been because he saw Jim walk onto the dirt field opposite to them, stripped down to his black Starfleet undershirt.

Their Captain was at least a hundred meters away from him. Chekov stood not too far, shuffling his feet in nervousness. Jim, on the other hand, was a picture of confidence; a cocky smirk was plastered on his face. He was unarmed as of now, and he shot a few surreptitious glances towards the rest of his crew before turning back to say something to Chekov, no doubt reassuring the young Ensign.

The Emperor and Empress then made their entrance, gracefully clunking down on their thrones in the space above and between the crew of the Enterprise.

The Emperor raised a large hand, quieting the crowd. "Gringer, bring Captain Kirk his weapon for the first round of the Krav Kali."

Kirk stepped forward at the same time as a large Kalian - about eight feet and four inches with large criss-cross scars upon his face - walked towards the center of the court. Gringer stopped at a distance where he was closer to Uhura, Spock, and McCoy. He was dressed sparsely with just long, brownish leather pants that was tied up with a belt. Hanging from either side of his hips were sheaths that only revealed the hilts of his two weapons. Around his muscular wrists were leather cuffs and he wore no shoes, like the rest of the Kalians, leaving his strong, web-like feet bare against the dirt ground.

As the crowd cheered at his appearance, he rippled his bulging arm muscles, flexing them so that his biceps looked like mountains. His abdomen was so clearly defined so that one could see his six-pack along with all the other muscles in his torso. He let out an ear-splitting roar that thundered within the massive coliseum.

In simple terms, the alien was intimidating, to say the least, but Jim had seen far, far worse things.

"I choose a battle of sais!" Gringer exclaimed as the cries of the Kalians died down. He grinned at Kirk, showing his wolf-like teeth. "I hope you last for more than a few seconds, human."

With a flash of movement, Gringer flickered an arm out, tossing a pair of sais towards Kirk where it landed harmlessly in front of his feet.

Jim's blue eyes narrowed, knowing full well that Gringer was disrespecting him with his nonchalant manner, but he wasn't going to take the bait. Gringer had the advantage of power and strength, and judging by his first movements, he had speed too. The one thing Jim had over Gringer was the element of surprise. Gringer was so overconfident in his abilities, so arrogant that he would severely underestimate Jim and make fatal mistakes.

So Jim just leaned down to pick up the sais and examined them as if he had never seen them before. The thin, long blades of the sais were shaped like a trident with the middle one extending a full six-inches. The two surrounding prongs were shorter (ranging only two inches) and slightly curved. The sais had a leather-covered steel hilt that was about four inches long. From what Jim could remember, it was an ancient Japanese weapon that was used in Okinawan martial arts.

Chekov touched his shoulder. "Hawe you used these veapons before?"

"Nope. I've seen them in holos though," he answered truthfully.

Jim didn't have to look at Chekov to see alarm spread across his face.

"Keptin, you do know vhat you are doing, yes?"

Jim turned at last, grinning brightly at the young Russian. "Of course. Lighten up a little, Chekov. It'll be fine, trust me."

"I do, Keptin," returned Chekov with no hesitation. "Just...be careful?"

At that, Jim's smile faltered a little. "I'll try."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Chekov's smile was more than enough to brighten up Jim's day. Jim willingly returned it before turning back to Gringer and wiping his face clean of any emotion. He closed his eyes, mentally running through all holos he had ever seen regarding sais to grasp the basics. He shifted, holding the weapons loosely in his hands, wrapping all his fingers around the hilt and pinching his thumbs against the joint between the handle bar and center blade. But he made no defensive or offensive move. He forced his entire body language to relax, making it seem as though he was no threat.

At this, Gringer smirked and glanced up at the Emperor. He nodded once and instantly, Jim felt his hackles rise. Whatever it was that they were planning, he just knew that he wasn't going to like it.

"Bring out the woman!" the Emperor called out.

Jim hissed, stepping forward. "What is the meaning of this, Emperor?! This is not traditional of a Krav Kali!"

"What do you know of our traditions, Captain? You bet their lives. Any Kalian who wants claim to their life can fight for it. And we will start with the woman. If you have any objections, we can execute your crew and you within the hour."

When Jim fell silent, the Emperor waved at the few Kalians who had been stationed beside the captive Enterprise crew. Gleefully, they unlocked Uhura's cage and roughly pulled her out, locking a collar around her neck and leashing her to a chain. Two of them licked their lips in lust as they stared at her lithe body, struggling in their grasp. Her handler tugged on her leash, dragging her behind him until she stood directly below and in front of the Emperor.

Jim's grip on the sais tightened tremendously. When Uhura was forcibly shoved to her knees, his knuckles turned white and a dull rush filled his ears, tuning out the angry cries of Bones, Spock, and Chekov.

The Emperor remained oblivious to Jim's change of temper. "Those who want claim to this woman, step forward."

Twelve Kalians - each as built as Gringer - came to stand beside him; all eyes were upon Uhura, drinking in her gorgeous, subdued image.

The handler jerked Uhura's chain again, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Jeers burst out in the crowd.

Jim gritted his teeth hard, trying desperately to keep his anger in check. "Sorry, Chekov, I can't keep my promise to you."

Before Chekov could even open his mouth to protest, Jim had already strode away from him, coming to a stop a few feet in front of Gringer. When he did, the others instinctively took a step back, leaving them to face off.

Jim flicked his wrist, manipulating his right sai to press against his forearm, and let his knees relax slightly. His entire posture changed - his stance was coiled for an attack at any given time, like a cobra ready to strike down. In an instant, Jim's entire body screamed of danger.

Bones saw Jim's bright blue eyes become so cold, so hardened that it froze the doctor in place, and he could only feel dread wash over him.

"Damn it..." murmured McCoy.

"What is it?" Spock asked, confused.

"They've managed to do the one thing you should never do with Jim Kirk - they've made him angry."

The words sent chills down Spock's spine. He had seen Jim upset, agitated, irritated, and he was very dangerous on those emotions alone. Spock had never once experienced a truly angry Jim, and the thought of it made the Vulcan feel a deep, soul-shaking fear.

McCoy was correct. The Kalians had made a fatal mistake and Jim was going to tear their world apart for it.

The Emperor raised his arms, spreading them as though he was welcoming someone. "May your blood be spilled with honor. Let the games begin!"

In that instant, Jim moved with blinding speed. Dropping low, he flicked his right arm, driving the sai backhandedly into Gringer's right femoral artery. Gringer didn't even have time to react before Jim sprang up, stabbing his left sai into the Kalian's jugular vein.

Gringer let out a bloody gurgle and dropped to his knees. Surprise was written in his dying eyes as he fell over, bleeding out in seconds.

Jim straightened and jerked his sais outwards, flicking off the black blood. He cracked his neck and gave the rest of the challengers a spine-chilling smile.

Shock silenced the crowd and fear crawled into their hearts. A mere human had killed one of their strongest in a matter of seconds - so quickly that some still couldn't comprehend what had happened.

"If you want to live, I suggest you leave now," Jim warned, his voice soaked with venom, as he twirled his sais expertly. "I will not show anymercy."

He raised his right hand, pointing his sai directly at the Kalian who had roughhoused Uhura, and snarled at him. "You, I'm saving for last."

Then he crouched back into a ready position, his sais out in a defensive manner. "It'll be faster if you all just came at me at once."

The Kalians didn't need a second bidding. With vengeance aching within their bones, they rushed forward, their weapons gleaming in the hot sun.

There was a clang as Jim blocked a strike from the left and he ducked a swipe before rotating his right wrist to stab one of the three attackers in his calf. The Kalian fell, only to be met with Jim's knee smashing against his nose, driving the broken bone straight up to pierce his brain. Jim didn't even notice the dead Kalian at his feet before stepping over him to leap at another Kalian in front of him. He stabbed forward and didn't hesitate to twirl around to backhand another, letting the sais slice through two Kalians at the same time. Blackish blood spurted all over Jim, but he ignored it completely.

With no hesitation in his step, he darted ahead and dodged another stab, swirling around to face off with a particularly skilled Kalian. In a rapid succession, Jim parried, blocked, and struck out with the alien, barely missing the sharp blades by a paper's width. There was movement in the side of his eye, but Jim didn't even spare the new attacker a glance. Keeping his attention on the one before him, Jim kicked backwards hard, sending the offender reeling. He made a downwards motion with his right sai, locking blades with the Kalian in front of him, and flicked his wrist harshly. The Kalian's sai went flying away and as his eyes followed the weapon's motion, Jim took the opportunity to twist his wrist upwards, thrusting his sai through the underside of the Kalian's chin.

Blood rained down on him and he had to blink fervently to get it out of his eyes. In that moment, someone landed a lucky hit onto his upper right arm, slicing deeply into his bicep and a little into his triceps.

Jim hissed in pain, but was undaunted by his injury. He rotated and angrily threw his right sai at the one who wounded him. It penetrated the Kalian's skull right between his eyes, and the alien collapsed onto his back with a loud thud.

Jim did a mental count of the remaining Kalians while keeping his left sai pressed against his raised forearm in a defensive motion. There were six bodies on the ground, leaving seven left.

Shit.

He could feel his right arm throbbing and the crimson blood trickling down. A numbness had started to spread, leaving his injured arm almost useless.

Backing up a few steps from the clearly afraid Kalians, Jim cast a furtive glance at Uhura, making sure that she was alright. She was still on her knees; the handler holding onto her chain hard. Her expressions had been laid bare - worry and fear making lines on her face visible when there hadn't been any in the first place.

"Kirk, you alright?" she asked frantically, noticing the slight lull in the heat of the battle.

Her handler angrily jerked her chain and slapped her. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in Jim's ears. For a brief second, all he saw were Uhura's shocked and slightly teary eyes and the reddening mark on her lower right cheek.

"Hey! Hands off of her!" Jim shouted, keeping his eyes on the six standing in a semi-circle.

The Kalian tugged on the chain harder, and Uhura winced. "What are you going to do about it?"

The others lined up before the two, forming a barrier between Jim and Uhura. The unspoken words of "you'll have to get through us first" hung heavily in the air.

Jim gritted his teeth and reached down to wrench his sai out of the dead Kalian's head, hiding the deep ache that the movement caused. "Fine, if that's what you want, that's what you'll get," Jim growled. "I'm going to fucking kill you all."

His entire form changed, completely turning off all defenses he might have had. His feet looked as though they were barely touching the ground; his muscles taut and ready to unleash. In the matter of seconds, Jim's body had become a lethal weapon of sorts.

Then, without hesitation, Jim barreled forward and launched himself at the six Kalians. He struck first, driving the steel butt of his right sai into a Kalian's sternum as he lunged and stabbed his left one fatally into another's stomach. Ducking a swipe at his head, he jerked away and crouched, sweeping his right leg to trip the Kalian that had been winded by his attack. The second the Kalian dropped to the ground, he was met with a blade through the center of his chest where it penetrated through the crack that Jim's earlier blow had created.

A movement to Jim's right, and he was forced to twist around to parry with his left hand. With his arms making an "X" sign and a Kalian's hand caught in the middle, Jim grabbed hold of the alien's wrists. In a flurry of motions, Jim flipped over the Kalian's head and brought the larger being down with him. As both landed hard on the ground, Jim rotated, shoving the Kalian's own weapon through his chest and pierced his heart.

Another Kalian roared and struck out, making Jim jump back, but he lost his footing when he accidentally stepped on the hand of a dead warrior. He felt strong arms reach around under his armpits and effortlessly pick him off the ground, holding him in place with a crushing grip. The last two Kalians smirked and advanced.

"Kirk!" screamed Uhura.

Jim merely grunted in response and waited until the two Kalians were within range. He lashed out with both his legs, pushing off one of the Kalians. By doing so, he made the one holding him stumble. Using his kick's momentum, he flipped backwards, freeing himself and landing on top of the Kalian's shoulders. Snarling, Jim grasped the Kalian's head by the temples with both hands and viciously jerked the alien's head to the right.

There was a loud cracking noise, and the Kalian fell with a broken neck - dead before he even hit the ground. Jim leapt off his back and landed softly onto the dirt floor, still crouched in a ready position.

The two remaining Kalians looked at each other nervously, not noticing that Jim was already raising his arms. With unerring accuracy, Jim threw his sais at the Kalians' head. Both weapons hit the bulls-eye and the Kalians collapsed with sais sticking through their foreheads.

Jim turned around, his cold eyes sending shivers through the Kalian holding Uhura. "And then there was one."

Jim walked forward slowly, but his presence dripped of threat, especially when he casually reached down to pick up a sai with each hand from the prone bodies lying strewn against the dirt.

He stopped about ten feet away from Uhura and cockily beckoned the last Kalian with two fingers.

Though frightened, the Kalian could not back down from such a clear challenge. Roaring, the Kalian ran towards Jim who stood there motionless. Jim let the Kalian come a few inches away from him before springing into action. He smartly sidestepped a downwards slice and countered with a backhanded swipe that cut into the Kalian's back. The Kalian turned around, thrusting his right sai while using his left to block Jim's next attack. Again, Jim danced around his blows, nicking the Kalian in his side. A few more lacerations later, the Kalian realized that Jim was toying with him - injuring him shallowly so that he remained alive. It was a slow torture to the death - Jim's unmerciful punishment for hurting someone he cared about it.

Despite the fury the Kalian felt, there was nothing he could do to beat Jim's superior skills. Slowly and gradually, the cuts became deeper, separating muscle from ligaments, tendons from bones, and severing nerves and arteries. The more Jim twirled around, the more the Kalian bled and suffered, until finally, the Kalian could take no more.

He fell to his knees, "Mercy," he begged, with tears streaming down his face. "Mercy."

Jim sauntered up to him, his face hardened. Without answering, Jim just thrust his left sai through the top of the Kalian's head. He let go, letting the Kalian fall over onto his side, blooding oozing out around the buried sai.

Never before had Bones, Spock, Uhura, or Chekov seen such a show of brutality from their Captain. They could barely even believe that their bright-eyed, carefree, and lighthearted friend could be so vicious. It was hard to overlap this newest side of Jim with what they already knew of him, but he was fighting for them, to protect them. And that was enough for them to discard any fear they may have had about him.

The tension in Jim's body didn't fade away after he had defeated all his opponents though. He bent down, rummaging through the Kalian's pocket before pulling out a single, golden key.

He straightened, scornfully tossed away his remaining sai, and barked out, "Chekov!" as he started to walk away from the battlefield.

Chekov came running, his face pale and tinged slightly green. Jim tossed him the key as he passed by.

"Get Uhura," he said simply.

Chekov nodded shakily and did as he was told while Jim turned to face the deathly silent crowd.

"You wanted blood? You got blood. This is what you get for threatening my crew, Emperor." He smiled icily. "May your blood be spilled with honor," he said caustically and bowed without sincerity.

And he arrogantly strode off the field to let the Kalians clean up the bloody chaos he had left behind.

When Uhura and Chekov joined Jim on his side of the field, Jim was sitting on a bench in the dark of his room. He was leaning over, his forearms resting on his thighs. His hands hung between his legs, trembling slightly. Sweat dripped down his brow and neck, mixing with the Kalian's black blood. He kept his head ducked, staring at the ground.

With the deafening silence, Uhura and Chekov could hear Jim's harsh panting clearly.

"Kirk?" Uhura asked gently.

At her call, Jim slowly raised his head, running his left hand through his hair. There was a haunted look in his blue eyes as he glanced at them, exhaling hard. He looked tired, as if he had aged a couple of years in that one fight. Subtly, he shifted to hide his shaking hands from his crew.

He plastered a smile on his face. "Hey."

That fake smile was so wrong on Jim. It was strained, tortured. It didn't belong on someone like Jim - not when it came to them.

With a huff, Uhura descended on Jim, reaching for him. When she first touched him, he flinched, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she just tore off his right sleeve and tossed it to Chekov.

"Wrap his arm up. Do it tightly so this idiot doesn't bleed out before he saves Spock and McCoy," she instructed before moving to his other side and tore off his left sleeve.

While Chekov obeyed her, she crumbled up Jim's sleeve in her hands and dabbed at the blood around his face, wiping it clean of the ugly black color.

Through all this, Jim didn't say a word or make a sound, save for the small hiss when Chekov tightened the makeshift bandage on his arm. But the tension in his body slowly bled away and a genuine smile found its way until his face.

Uhura couldn't help it and smiled back. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Kirk, but you kick ass. Clearly they chose the wrong weapon."

"Actually, I've never handled a sai before," Jim smirked, his usual cockiness shining through.

It was relieving on both ends that nothing had changed, despite what Jim had done.

Uhura's jaw dropped. "You've got to be shitting me. There's no way you could've fought that well without prior experience!"

"I did watch some holos back in the Academy."

"You can't be serious. That was like five years ago! How can you still remember them?"

Jim tapped the side of his head with his left hand. "Eidetic memory, remember? And I'm a genius. You seem to always forget that fact."

"So you just 'browsed through your memory bank' and picked up the techniques like that?" She snapped her fingers at the last word.

"Yep," Jim beamed.

"Unbelievable. Just...unbelievable."

"Not just a farm boy, am I?" grinned Jim.

"How come you lose to Hikaru then, Keptin?" asked Chekov, sitting down next to Jim, letting their shoulders touch. "You are much better fighter."

The feel of Chekov beside him humanized him, pulling him out from the killing haze he was trapped in.

He playfully ruffled Chekov's hair with his left hand. "I can have off days, can't I?"

Chekov frowned, remembering the Krav Kali again. "Keptin, vill every fight be like this one?"

Jim leaned back slightly, letting his breathing regulate. "Hmm. I don't think so. Not after the show I put on. Besides, can you see anyone want to claim Bones? That man has the outer covering of a porcupine. And Spock? No one can survive his 'eyebrow of death'."

Both Uhura and Chekov giggled.

A horn interrupted them and Jim's amusement instantly disappeared as he got to his feet. Steel reentered his gaze, along with uncertainty - uncertainty of allowing his brutality be shown to his friends again. He knew better than anyone how terrifying he could seem while in the throes of battle; it wasn't something he was comfortable letting Uhura and Chekov - two relatively innocent people - see over and over again.

Uhura and Chekov understood perfectly, but they weren't about to let him run from them. Both stood and positioned themselves at his sides.

"For a genius, you're really stupid. We're not letting you go out alone," Uhura said, knocking her shoulder against Jim's. "So this lone wolf act you're pulling? It's not going to happen."

"Da, ve're family," Chekov added, smiling brightly at his big brother figure. "Through thick and thin, yes?"

Jim felt a little baffled and it clearly showed on his face.

Uhura shook her head in disbelief. "We're going to have to spell this out for you, don't we? Stop thinking so much, Kirk. We know you. You're the arrogant, lecherous James T. Kirk who never takes no for an answer," Uhura's tone was light and amused, but it turned soft and somber, "But you're also the kind of person who will fight through hell and back to save those he cares about. We've always known this, Kirk. Nothing's changed."

"I just killed twelve Kalians in cold blood. And you're telling me that that doesn't bother you in the slightest?"

Chekov shook his head, his curls bouncing comically. "Nyet, because if it vere me, I vould do the same."

The horn blew again, sounding almost impatient.

Jim sighed. "I'm going to make you guys take psych evals as soon as we get back, because clearly, there's something wrong with you two." He cracked his neck and stared determinedly out into the distance where he knew his next opponent was. "But we should probably save Bones before he decides to hypo me out of spite."

Flanked by the two of them, Jim confidently strode onto the field. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he caught sight of a large sword sticking out of the ground, like the whole Merlin-Arthur-Camelot legends. It had been placed closer to Jim's side, so that he only had to walk a few paces before he reached it.

But Jim made no movements towards it. Instead, he calmly looked over to the other side where Bones and Spock were locked up. There was a rush of smug satisfaction when Jim realized that none of the Kalians had dared to mistreat one of his people like they had with Uhura. He turned his calculating eyes upwards to rest upon the Kalian Emperor. The Emperor's lips were pressed tightly into a thin line; his hands were curled in fists and his eyes had narrowed.

Uhura tugged at his arm subtly, noticing the same thing as he did. "Kirk, the Emperor doesn't seem very pleased with how this is all going."

He almost snorted. "I just killed twelve of his best fighters. Of course he's pissed."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying, he may not uphold his end of the bargain now."

Jim paused. "I know. I had that figured from the beginning. But don't worry, I have a plan."

"And when is this plan going to kick in? Because so far, it doesn't look good for us. There's no way we can fight our way off this planet, even with you. And we have no communicators to just beam out."

Jim just grinned at her. "Where there's a will, there's a way." And promptly strode off, leaving behind an exasperated Uhura.

He stopped before the steel sword and took in its dimensions. The double-edged blade looked as though it was approximately forty inches long; the hilt was a two-handed cruciform with a red pommel.

He wanted to laugh. Scotty would have had such a kick out of this: it was a claymore - a Scottish broadsword. This, Jim was familiar with, but this type of longsword was heavy. Usually, it was about five to six pounds, which wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't for the fact that his right arm had numbed and was practically useless because of his injury. Not that he'd show it, of course.

Ignoring the weapon for now, he eyed the Emperor. Jim knew he had to play his cards right if his plan was going to work. He needed to free Bones next, or things would get a bit trickier.

Knowing full well that the ruler was displeased with him, Jim called out, "Are we fighting for the other human? Or should you just let him go now and save yourself the trouble?"

The Emperor roared in anger, rising to his full height, not even knowing that he had just played right into Jim's hands. "You will fight for him, as dictated by the laws of Krav Kali! Come out, Rigo!"

A burly Kalian, though more finely tuned than Gringer, entered the coliseum from behind Spock and McCoy. He too, was clad in just leather pants with leather wrist guards, but he also had on a brown band around his forehead. Hung from the side of his belt was a claymore - larger in size in comparison to Jim's.

Jim cocked his head, taking in his new opponent. "And why do you place claim on my friend's life? He's only human," he asked, honestly curious. "I thought you guys would prize the Vulcan more."

Rigo drew his weapon, and blinked owlishly at Jim. "The human is pleasing to the eyes," he rumbled.

"What?!" yelped McCoy from his cage. "I don't swing that way, buddy!"

Immediately, Jim could hear chortles behind him and he had to work so hard to hold his own laughter back. Oh, Jim was never going let Bones live this down.

Shaking his head, Jim sauntered up to his weapon and placed his left hand onto the hilt. "Lucky for you, Bones, he'll never get the chance to truly 'admire' your prettiness," he called out, the innuendo making Bones' cheeks flush red with either anger or embarrassment. Jim liked to think it was a bit of both.

With one strong heave, Jim pulled his claymore straight out of the ground and directly into a ready position. His feet were spread apart, his left a foot in front of his right. His left knee was bent slightly and his right was kept flexibly straight. Raising the claymore, he pressed his left elbow close to his body and pointed the weapon directly at the Rigo; his right hand held the end of the hilt, his elbow crooked to support the weight of the sword.

Spock frowned and leaned forward to get a better view from his cage. "I was not aware that the Captain is left-handed."

McCoy shook his head. "He's not. Something's wrong with his right."

"Should we be concerned?"

"You'll be surprised at how competent Jim is with his left hand. I actually thought he was left-handed for a while. Bastard likes to play with people's heads."

Spock turned his attention back to Jim, contemplating. "Fascinating."

McCoy snorted," Damn green-blooded bat can't even properly show admiration..."

Spock raised an eyebrow at McCoy. "Doctor, the match for your chastity is about to begin," he returned in a calm and even voice.

Before McCoy could even splutter with indignation, a horn blew and the battle for him had started.

Unlike the first time, Jim didn't immediately strike. He held his position, waiting for Rigo. The Kalian lumbered forward, much slower than Gringer, but still fast enough to be considered threatening. As he did, he swung his claymore several times, letting the steel blade twirl around him like it was a simple toy.

Automatically, Jim began calculating. Based on the whistling noise his claymore was making, Rigo was far stronger than Gringer, which meant that Jim had avoid any direct hits. He was skilled (of course he was) and he also knew to not underestimate Jim, so that advantage was out of the window. However, Jim had speed and he could use his smaller body to throw off Rigo's rhythm.

Rigo tested the waters by cleaving downwards at Jim's head. Jim sidestepped it by the bare minimum, jerking his right shoulder back slightly before moving to strike Rigo's now open underarm. The Kalian pivoted fast, bringing his sword to parry with Jim's. The impact of Rigo's strength traveled through their swords, sending painful vibrations straight to Jim. He gritted his teeth, his hands almost letting go of his weapon at the weight of Rigo's hit, but he held fast and turned. Crouching slightly, Jim swirled around, using his body's momentum to slice Rigo's back. Rigo blocked it easily, but missed Jim's right leg coming up high and landing a heavy hit on the side of his neck.

Rigo stumbled and Jim sprang into action. With his left hand, he swung his sword in wild, but calculated movements that forced Rigo to leave certain openings where it would instantly be met with hard kicks and jabbing elbows. Rigo could barely process the speed at which Jim moved at. All he knew was that his body was beginning to ache. Despite the fact that Jim was a mere human and his strength was tantamount to a teenage Kalian, Jim had such precision that his physical blows landed on the same areas over and over again, creating bruises and hematomas in his joints and over his vital points. He was hard-pressed - forced to defend instead of attacking. Quickly, Rigo had been pushed into a metaphorical corner, fighting tooth and nail against Jim.

Both swords flashed brightly against the sun, clashing and clanging. Jim lunged forward, sword centimeters away from stabbing Rigo, and Rigo jumped back, blocking and flicking back a counter that was easily parried away. Jim used Rigo's own momentum against him and suddenly backed off at the right moment, making Rigo flail for a brief second before Jim jammed the back of his hilt against Rigo's chest. Rigo sliced downwards, even as he stumbled back a few steps. Jim hefted his sword to meet Rigo's a few inches from the ground and heaved upwards hard. His actions knocked Rigo's sword harmlessly away and threw the alien off-balance. Instantly, Jim was in his space, his claymore dangerously close to Rigo's neck.

The crew of the Enterprise thought Jim's victory was in the bag, but luck was not on Jim's side (when was it ever?). One of Rigo's floundering arms accidentally struck Jim's injury, eliciting a sharp gasp from the human. Instinctively, Jim's body curled to protect his arm and his claymore lowered a couple of inches. That second of weakness was enough for Rigo to take the upper hand.

Rigo grasped Jim's sword by the blade and pulled Jim towards him. Angrily, Rigo head-butted Jim and when the latter was left dazed and reeling, he reached for Jim's subconsciously outstretched right arm. With his hand wrapped tightly around Jim's wrist, he aimed well with his right, jamming down the steel hilt of his heavy claymore onto the center of Jim's forearm. There was a loud cracking noise, followed by a ragged scream of pain. Rigo didn't hesitate and flipped his claymore. The flat of the blade caught Jim in his abdomen and like a baseball, Jim was flung a good twenty feet towards the cages.

He tumbled and turned, rolling to a stop on his stomach close to Spock and Bones. For a heart-wrenching second, Jim didn't move, even as Rigo stepped slowly towards him, picking up Jim's claymore that he long ago dropped.

"Jim! Get up, Jim!" yelled Bones. "Come on, kid!"

Spock leaned against the bars of his cage, forgetting that he would be shocked, to reach uselessly towards Jim.

Jim weakly pushed himself up on his left arm, visibly struggling. His right arm was on fire, burning and screaming with pain. The lateral side of his forearm was going numb and he couldn't even move his index and middle fingers well anymore - Rigo had fractured his radial bone.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins and Jim forced himself onto all fours. Well, on all three, because his right arm was wrapped tightly against his stomach where he was quietly trying to clamp down on the bleeding that had started while keeping it immobilized at the same time. That fucking bastard had twisted his sword at the last moment, cutting Jim shallowly, right above his navel.

Vaguely, he could hear Bones shouting at him, Uhura and Chekov screaming for him, and Spock's huffs of pain as he banged against the bars of his cage. For everyone to be so frightened, so worried, it was just simply unacceptable.

Jim pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly as pain ate away at his usually bright mind. He watched, almost detachedly, at Rigo advancing on him, swinging both of their swords in either hand. A large smirk had found its way onto the Kalian's face and Jim found himself wanting, more than anything, to wipe it off, but his body wasn't properly cooperating.

Fuck it all.

Jim purposely jolted his broken arm, just a little, sending shooting pain throughout his glazed mind. It woke him up briefly, but it was enough for Jim to plan a few steps ahead. He moved his legs shoulder-width apart in anticipation, his knees slightly bent. Rigo didn't notice any changes and raised both swords, crossing his hands, as if he were going to scissor Jim in half.

As Rigo tried to trap Jim between the two blades, Jim leaned backwards as far as he could, pulling a Matrix sort of move. He grunted in exertion as he watched the swords close with a snap a breadth's width from his nose. Gravity kept pulling at him and he tilted his head back, pressing his left hand onto the ground. With strength that he didn't think he had anymore, Jim pushed off the ground with his legs and kicked Rigo's hands hard as he made a one-handed backwards flip.

Pain combined with shock made Rigo lose his grasp on the claymores, both flying a distance away. One landed an inch away from Jim's feet and he didn't even hesitate before lunging towards it. Whether or not Rigo was frozen by awe or fear, Jim didn't really think about it when he ran Rigo through.

Blood sprayed everywhere even as time seemed to stop. Rigo still stood, disbelief in his eyes as he looked down at the sword buried within his upper abdomen while Jim remained locked in his lunging position. It took a moment, but Rigo finally collapsed onto his knees, black blood bubbling out of the side of his mouth. Jim didn't release him - instead, he violently jerked out his claymore, slicing upwards as he did.

Rigo was dead before the longsword was completely out of his body.

Jim took a couple of steps back. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, to control the agony that was rearing its ugly head. His brilliant blue eyes - slightly glazed by pain - turned to face the Emperor.

The crowd was silent, unable to even produce a sound. Anger and sorrow glittered on every Kalians' face.

Jim scornfully stabbed his claymore upright into the dirt behind Rigo's head - a headstone for the fallen Kalian - and raised his arms in a clear sign of triumph.

"Release my friend, Emperor," Jim called out, his voice low and strong.

The Emperor's face turned dark purple with fury, but lifted his hand to signal to a Kalian placed by the cages.

The moment McCoy was released, he barreled forward, reaching for Jim. Bones grasped Jim's upper arm - the unbroken one - and started leading his best friend off-field. He could feel Jim trembling in his hand, see the sweat dripping down his face, and hear him struggle to even his breathing, but Jim refused to show any weakness before the Kalians and held himself high and confident - probably through sheer willpower alone.

"Damn it, Jim," he said, his tone so soft and gentle.

Jim just cracked a weak smile at him. "Good to see you too, Bones."

Jim kept up the act, even when Uhura and Chekov ran up to them. It was only when he was ushered into his ready room when his wobbling knees gave out on him.

He could feel himself falling, but arms reached out to grab him and dragged him forward so that he was sitting on the bench. He winced as he felt Bones gently prodded at his arm and the tender skin around his stomach.

"Uhura, go find a stick or something so we can splint this idiot's arm. Chekov, get some water for him," McCoy barked out. "Kid, you better still be with me, because I'm gonna lug you back onboard where a line of hyposprays is waiting for ya."

"Bones, your tricorder," he rasped out, nodding out thanks to Chekov who rushed to him with a bottle of water.

Bones cursed as he rummaged through his pockets, wanting to kick himself for not remembering it in the first place. He pulled it out, but before he could even run it over Jim, Jim snatched it out of his hands and tossed it to a bewildered Chekov.

"Keptin?"

"Just like I taught you, Chekov," Jim said, bending down to pull out his boot knife. He ignored Bones' "I can't believe you fought with that damn death trap against your leg" and handed it hilt first to Chekov. "Use this to cut the wires."

Recognition lit in the young genius' eyes, and he quickly took Jim's knife and settled into a corner, tearing apart McCoy's tricorder.

"What the hell, Jim? You gonna explain?" grouched McCoy as he tore off his own sleeves to bind Jim's injuries.

"Nope," Jim smiled.

He hissed as McCoy tightly bound his fractured arm between two sticks.

"Don't be an infant. It's hardly broken."

"Good to know. I'd hate to fight with a really broken arm," retorted Jim, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He meant it to be a light-hearted statement, but the moment the words escaped him, the tension in the room became suffocating.

All the worry that McCoy had kept hidden came bubbling up to the surface, and he haggardly ran his fingers through his short hair. "Look, Jim. You know as well as I that you're gonna die if you go out there to fight again. And I just can't let you do that."

Jim's expressions grew somber. "Would you condemn Spock to die then?" he asked softly.

From the corner of his eye, Jim could see both Uhura and Chekov still, pretending as though they weren't listening in to their conversation.

Bone let out a rough exhale. "You know I don't mean that either. Despite our differences, that hobgoblin has kept you out of trouble and alive more times than I can thank him for. But Jim, you have to know your limits! Can you really fight with a broken arm and wounds that won't stop bleeding?! Can you win?"

"I have to, don't I?" Jim gave him a small smile. "It's not that bad. I've fought with worse conditions before."

And he really had. This didn't even make the top five list of worst possible scenarios that Jim had faced.

He got to his feet, using Bones' arm as support. "Don't worry, Bones. I have a plan."

"You always have a plan. Which plan are we on now? M? W?"

Blue eyes glittered with amusement and genius. "Actually, we're on plan E."

Bones rolled his eyes. "Great. Like that makes me feel any better."

"At least we're not on M or W like you thought we were, you grouchy, grouchy man."

The anticipated ominous sound of the horn echoed again.

Jim glanced at Chekov. "Keep working on that. I'll buy you some time. Come out as soon as it's done," he commanded, his Captain tone making the young man straighten subconsciously.

"Yes, sir!" he replied back.

"Uhura, keep him company. And by that, I mean: don't let any of the Kalians know what he's up to."

"Understood, Captain." She leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek. "Come back safe, got it?"

Jim smiled, knowing that there was no time for any innuendos or inappropriate comments. "I'll try my best, Lieutenant. Well then, I'm off for round three. Wish me luck!"

When he turned around, his smile dropped off his face. A familiar sense of apathy was crawling in his insides. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer; he hated the feel of blood upon him. But he was the Captain of the Enterprise. There was so much blood on his hands – either by his own will or making a mistake and causing deaths of his people. And here, at this moment, he could feel himself withdrawing within himself, hiding from the disgust he felt. The worst thing was, he knew that he was reverting back to a persona that only existed on Tarsus, and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. That scared him more than anything.

Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps next to him pulled him away from his thoughts. Instantly, the dark pressure on his chest lightened up a little. He didn't bother acknowledging Bones' presence as they both walked towards the battlefield. For him, it was like breathing to have Bones fall in step with him, walking side by side with him. If there ever came to be a day when Jim didn't have Bones beside him, Jim was sure that his entire world would fail to exist. With his shitty past, there were times when Jim didn't know if he was just a ghost or if he was even human anymore. Bones grounded him. Made him feel wanted and that he belonged somewhere; that he meant something to someone.

And Jim drew strength from that, locking J.T. back into the darkness where he belonged.

He wrapped his left arm around Bones' shoulders, careful to not jar any of his injuries. "Glad you're with me, Bones."

"Where else would I be?" replied Bones gruffly. "I followed you to this damn, alien-disease infested planet, didn't I? Someone's gotta make sure you stay alive."

Jim chuckled, the noise sounding strained, even to his ears.

"Uhura and Chekov okay?" McCoy asked knowingly.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm making them take psych evals when we get back though."

"I'm making you take a psych eval, you dumbass. Only an insane person like you would keep taunting an Emperor of a belligerent race."

A pause as the rays of the sun reached them.

"You okay, Jim?"

Jim knew he wasn't talking about his injuries.

"Better than I should be," he replied truthfully. "It helps to have you guys around."

"You're an idiot. We're always going to be around, even if you don't think so."

Jim looked away, seeing nothing but dirt and bloodstains. "I'll believe it after this is all over."

Bones didn't get a chance to say anything else. All he could do was watch his best friend walk to his possible death.

And he hated himself for not being able to do anything.

When Captain Kirk walked out onto the field for another match, he was met with utter silence. No cheers, no boos. But he could feel the hateful glares stabbing him as he marched forward to the center where he stopped before a brawny Kalian. Like others before him, he was shirtless. He had arm guards spreading from his wrists to his elbows. On his hands was a claw-like weapon that fit right over his knuckles. Four curved blades were affixed to the glove, making the entire thing look like a tiger's claws, which was the weapons' nickname in the common tongue.

"I challenge you to a match of bagh nakh," the Kalian said before tossing Jim a pair.

The Kalian had aimed well so that the claws would pierce Jim's hands if he caught them wrong, but Jim wasn't fool enough to be hasty. He easily timed it so that the claws made an extra revolution before he easily snagged the weapons out of the air and placed them on.

As he did, he eyed the Kalian. "So, what are you called?"

"They call me Wretin."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Wretin? You will die."

A wicked, cold smile spread upon Wretin's face. He was confident – more so than the others – and he had such bloodlust that Jim felt a twinge of nervousness.

"Captain, it will not be me who dies," cackled Wretin.

Jim just crouched into a ready position and curled his hands into fists around the bagh nakhs. "Only one way to know."

Wretin moved first. He quickly invaded into Jim's space and like a boxer, began to jab and punch wherever Jim had an opening. Jim ducked, dodged, and parried the strikes, keeping the sharp blades centimeters away from his skin. He took a step back to avoid an uppercut and was forced to swing violently to his right to miss the claws slashing through his injured arm. Wretin immediately followed with a swipe to the same arm, narrowly missing again.

Jim danced around, ducking another jab to his right arm. Wretin was targeting his injuries and Jim was having difficulties countering it. To put some distance between him and Wretin, Jim kicked out, but Wretin just grabbed his leg. Jim jumped, twisting his body to slam his left leg against Wretin's head. The Kalian grunted and dropped Jim, but not before he rotated his hands, leaving behind shallow cuts on Jim's ankles.

Red blood slowly dripped down, covering Jim's shoe, but he paid it no attention. He could barely even feel the stinging above the deep aching of his arm and he leapt up, slashing downwards with his left arm. The slightly dazed Kalian couldn't react fast enough to dodge completely. He roared as the tips of Jim's claws scraped through his skin and fascia, nicking the top layer of his torso muscles.

With no pause in his movements, Jim elbowed Wretin in his stomach with the same arm and immediately followed with a swift kick to the alien's side. Pushing his body to its limits, Jim didn't let himself stop with the attacks. A stab here and a kick there; he was making it hard for Wretin to make a move, but he wasn't doing much else. He couldn't land a hit on Wretin, let alone kill the Kalian, and his strength was waning quickly.

A touch of panic flickered in Jim's gut and for the first time since this entire debacle started, he doubted his abilities to win. His highly imaginative mind wandered, flashing images of Bones, Spock, Uhura, and Chekov dead – scattered around him with their lifeless eyes accusing him of not being strong enough, smart enough, to save them.

It was like Tarsus all over again with his kids lying dead at his feet.

For a brief, dizzy second, he felt his breath get caught in his throat and blinding fear spread through him like lightning. And Wretin took full advantage of it.

When Jim's movements froze, Wretin lashed out. His left claws caught Jim's forehead, but Jim's instincts prevented him from cutting too deep. Jim stumbled back, but not before Wretin grabbed his left arm and bent his wrist, digging the tips of his right claws into Jim's wrist. Wretin kicked at Jim's chest while still holding on. The force sent Jim reeling back and the blades raked down his arm, leaving four bloody trails from a few inches above his elbow to his wrist.

Jim didn't have time to hiss in pain before Wretin's kick sent him flying across the field. As he laid there, face-down in the dirt, he could feel his entire body aching in pain and his muscles trembling. Sweat was mixing with his blood. There was an odd rushing noise in his ears, like everything had become muffled. He could barely make out the cries of his friends – of Bones yelling at him to get his lazy ass off the ground and Uhura's screams for him to get the hell up. Chekov's colorful words in Russian and Spock's threatening words to Wretin had joined in the fray, adding to the sounds of pounding that echoed in his mind.

He could sense Wretin getting closer; the Kalian's footsteps thudding against the ground and sending up small clouds of dirt, but he still couldn't make his body move. Panic and despair threatened to swallow him whole, like he was barely keeping his head above churning water.

Just as the water was about drown him, something in his mind shattered. Shards of glass rained down upon him and rearranged to form a box around him. Baffled, Jim saw a thin man approached his prison. The man's blue eyes held no life within them and the moment Jim made contact with them, they swallowed Jim into an abyss full of darkness and ice.

Jim fell deeper and deeper into the black until he couldn't breathe anymore.

And then something snapped. Like a switch being turned on, adrenaline began to flow through his frozen veins again. Strength entered his muscles and all the pain faded away like a bad dream.

It was then that J.T. opened his eyes and lurched to his feet. There was a maniacal glimmer to his eyes and cold bloodlust oozed out of his pores. The entire atmosphere of the match changed in the blink of an eye. It was like the calm before the storm – a few of the Kalians even shivered as the cold settled down around them.

Wretin paused, confused at this stranger before him, and that was all J.T. needed to strike.

With almost inhumane speed, J.T. darted forward and crouched, slashing deeply into Wretin's calf. The Kalian fell to one knee and J.T. roundhouse kicked Wretin's larynx, knocking Wretin heavily onto his back.

Silently, J.T. punched downwards with his left hand, fatally stabbing Wretin in his chest.

Surprise was still written in Wretin's eyes before he had a chance to truly comprehend what had happened. J.T. was cold, ruthless, and efficient in killing – so different than Jim whose heart had been softened by his friends and everyone he had met on and through the Enterprise.

And it was that heart that woke Jim back up in time to lock J.T. back into the crevices of his mind before his illogical self decided to decimate the Kalian population for threatening anything he held dear.

As the haze from his eyes cleared, Jim found himself staring down upon the fading Kalian.

"You still lose, Captain Kirk," rasped Wretin, laughter dying on his lips.

"What do you mean?" demanded Jim.

Wretin's hand thudded against the dirt and Jim's blue eyes were drawn to the sight of the blood dripping off the tips of the tiger claws. His mind swirled; his waning strength, the unnatural stinging pain of his injuries…it all led to one conclusion.

"You poisoned it…" Jim breathed.

Blood gurgled out of Wretin as he chuckled. "Y-you l-lose."

Jim snarled. "You underestimate me, Wretin. Go to hell." And he twisted his hand, making the claws twist and burrow deeper into the Kalian's chest.

Wretin died with a smirk on his face.

Jim staggered to his feet, dread filling him. A cold, icy feeling was spreading from his wounds, gradually paralyzing his muscles. It was a slow-acting poison. If he got back onto the Enterprise within the next few minutes, Bones still might have a chance of saving him.

He was so focused on diagnosing himself that he didn't even realize that Spock had been released and was now right beside him, his body so close that Jim could easily lean on him if needed. A warm arm snaked around his waist and he glanced to his left to see Bones supporting him with a grim expression. Uhura and Chekov were there too, standing beside McCoy – safe and sound. Suddenly, he felt so, so tired and he was more than willing to leave the rest of this debacle to Spock.

"Captain Kirk has successfully completed his trials of Krav Kali. We are free to leave," Spock said loudly, his brown-black eyes angry.

"Incorrect, Commander Spock. Captain Kirk has won the challenges for your lives; he has yet to fight for his own," the Emperor returned, a broad smile reaching his face. He knew as well as Spock, McCoy, and Kirk that Jim had no chance of surviving another round – not when he was barely standing on his own.

"Then I challenge you to a Krav Kali with my Captain's life as stake!" Spock announced.

Bones took a step forward while still keeping Jim upright. "Count me in too!"

"Me as vell!" Chekov added.

Beside him, Uhura exclaimed, "And me!"

"Such insolence!" roared the Emperor. "Captain Kirk must fight for his life as dictated by the laws of Krav Kali!"

The words jolted something in Jim's sluggish memory. "No, I don't…" he whispered.

Both Spock and Bones shot him a look of confusion.

He cleared his throat and stood a little bit straight. "I don't have to," Jim repeated, loudly this time.

"It is our law!"

"Your warrior fought with no honor!" Jim snapped.

There was a second of silence and the Kalian rulers' faces paled. "What do you mean?" hissed the Emperor.

Jim pointed at Wretin. "Your warrior poisoned his blades!"

Bones' grip on his waist tightened, but Jim continued. "As such, by the laws of Krav Kali, your warrior has effectively nullified any charges against me and thus concluding this battle. And now, seeing how my friends and I are free, I've only got one last thing to say to you."

He nodded at Chekov who whispered "Beam us up!" into the configured tricorder.

Jim looked back up at the Emperor, a shit-eating smirk on his face, and raised his left hand, making an extremely rude and offensive gesture. "Fuck you."

Familiar white lights swirled around them and in the next instant, Jim, Spock, McCoy, Chekov, and Uhura were back onboard the Enterprise.

Scotty and the rest of the technicians in the transporter room were not prepared to see their Captain bleeding all over McCoy, but they didn't have time to comment before Jim was already barking out orders in his "Captain" tone.

"Scotty, get us the hell out of this quadrant. Spock, you have the conn. Let Starfleet know that the Kalians are probably no longer on good terms with us. Uhura, Chekov – head to the Bridge and do damage control. And someone call Medical."

They all stared at him dumbly for a brief second.

"Did I stutter? Move!" Jim said.

Instantly, there was a flurry of movement and the transporter room all but cleared out.

Jim turned his glazed blue eyes onto Bones and gave him a small smile. "Told you everything'll work out."

And then proceeded to pass the fuck out.

Bones staggered under Jim's dead weight and struggled to keep Jim from face-planting on the ground just as medical came rolling in. In seconds, Jim was loaded onto a gurney and hyposprays were jammed into his neck.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Bones couldn't help but run his fingers through his best friend's hair and smile with relief. "Yeah, you did good, kid. You did real good."

Beta shift had rolled around and the Bridge crew had squeezed into the Sickbay to visit their friend. It had been a week since the Kalian incident and while Starfleet hadn't made a huge fuss about it, surprisingly, every person aboard the Enterprise had been tense and stressed, simply because McCoy had kept Jim's condition quiet, not that he had it on purpose. He had spent the first two days working with Spock to develop an antidote that Jim wasn't allergic to and the rest keeping Jim's system from fraying out.

About ten minutes ago, McCoy had sent a comm. to each of the Bridge crew that Jim was finally awake and coherent enough for visitors, so here they were, crowding the Sickbay.

Jim was sitting up when Spock, Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu came in, propped up by three pillows and the incline of the biobed. He was shirtless and a white sheet was pulled up to cover just his legs. White bandages with splashes of pink were covering his left arm and a patch of gauze was taped onto his brow. There was an IV stuck into his right arm, now healed and mended, but his pallor had returned to normal and a bright smile was scrawled upon his face.

"Hey, guys!" he grinned. "I'd wave, but Mr. Cranky-Pants over there will just smack me."

"I wouldn't be cranky if you actually listen to me for once, dumbass," grouched Bones, but the small smile on his face betrayed him.

"Keptin!" cried Chekov, rushing forward to his bedside. "I'm so glad to see zat you are alright!"

Spock stepped forward as well, his eyebrow rising at the sight of Jim's left arm. "Dr. McCoy, it has been a week since the Kalians. Are the dermal regenerators not working as they should?"

"Is that a veiled insult at my medical skills, you damn hobgoblin?"

"That would be illogical. If I were to insult you, I would not be so subtle."

Jim snorted. "Don't lie, Spock. You're the master of subtle."

"While that may be true, it still does not answer the question of why your injuries have not healed."

"It's the poison, Spock," McCoy sighed. "Every time we try to use modern medicine on it, it either makes things worse or has completely no effect."

"How will that affect the Captain?"

"It won't. We just have to let it heal twenty-first century style, but it'll most likely leave a scar."

"Which women dig, right, Uhura?" winked Jim.

Uhura rolled her eyes with a soft smile in response and Sulu chuckled.

"What kind of drugs are you on, Kirk?" Sulu asked.

"The good stuff, of course."

"I hear you were a bit of a badass with the Kalians. That's funny, because I seem to recall that I kicked your ass in fencing."

"You should not challenge the Keptin, Hikaru. He vill vipe the floor vith you."

"I'm offended, Pavel!" gasped Sulu. "How could you say that? I feel so wounded!"

Immediately, Chekov was stumbling to comfort his friend. "I am not saying zat you are not amazing as vell, Hikaru!"

"And that's why Chekov is everyone's favorite," laughed Jim.

"How many weapons do you know how to use, Kirk?" Sulu asked. "Which martial arts do you know?"

"Quite a few. It'd take forever for me to answer that question."

"And why didn't we know about this?"

Jim shrugged. "Didn't come up."

"Don't kid yourself, Jim," McCoy said. "You love to surprise people. You like them to keep on guessing. It's the same with that weird Chinese acrobatic shit you pulled a few missions back."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that," grinned Jim.

Uhura stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on Jim's foot and giving him a concerned look.

"Uh oh. Am I in trouble?"

"It's just…I want to ask how you're doing."

"Didn't we just answer this question? I think Bones would be more than happy to repeat himself, since that seems to be all that he's been doing lately."

Bones half-heartedly smacked at Jim's leg.

"You know what I mean, Kirk."

Jim's gaze hardened slightly. "Am I okay with killing fourteen Kalians in cold blood?"

Uhura hesitated and nodded.

"Let's just say that I would do it again if I had to."

Unsurprisingly, no one called Jim out on his violent aggressiveness to protect his family – not when each and every one of them would do the exact same as he.

"I still can't believe you found the time to teach Chekov how to reconfigure a tricorder into a communicator," Bones said.

"Good thing I did, huh? Otherwise, some other Kalian who finds you 'pleasing to the eye' might have had the opportunity to 'admire' your prettiness, Bones." Jim smirked at Bones and wiggled his eyebrow.

Bones spluttered as he leapt to his feet. "Damn it, Jim!"

"Whoa, I don't think I heard about this. Who thought McCoy was pretty?" Sulu asked, a grin spreading on his face.

"You haven't heard about the fight for Bones' chastity? Oh boy, do I have a story for you."

Jim, despite all his skills, couldn't dodge Bones' unerringly accurate precision for hyposprays. He was out like a light in seconds, a smile still on his face.

"Just so all of you know, I will hypospray anyone else who decides to talk about that. Remember, if I can get this ingenious idiot, the rest of you don't stand a chance," growled McCoy.

Spock raised his eyebrow, fully aware of the fact that Sulu and Chekov had moved to hide behind him.

"Hiding behind the hobgoblin won't save you. Now get out of my Sickbay. I've got work to do. Shoo!"

"Very well, Doctor. I will leave you to your work. When Jim wakes, be sure to thank him."

McCoy frowned and crossed his arms. "Why?"

"He saved your good honor, Doctor. I believe that merits a thank you."

Needless to say, the rest of the Bridge crew refused to visit Jim afterwards, much to their ingenious Captain's confusion. And when the annual inoculations rolled around, Jim was pleased to discover that he was not the only one avoiding McCoy like the plague.

Turns out, he wasn't the only ingenious idiot around.

And damn, did that feel good.

Chapter Text

VI

The Cat's Out of the Bag Part I

It started with a seemingly innocuous message on Jim's PADD. No one really paid any attention to the sound of its ping or to Jim typing something back with a frown on his face. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary - not even when Jim abruptly stood and gave Spock the conn before walking out of the Bridge. It was only until the next Alpha shift when their Captain did not appear that the Command crew became worried.

Minutes before that shift, Jim had sent a ship-wide message that he was going to be on Earth for a few days to settle some business with Admiral Pike and that Spock would be Acting Captain until he returned. While Jim's words were plausible, the Bridge crew couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious of Jim's actions. Why would he have left without a word to any of them? Spock hadn't even been aware of any specific Starfleet-related communications between Pike and Jim, who talked constantly, trading stories and chatting about the inane details of life like old friends. But they kept their personal lives separate from their professional (though the line blurred from time to time - mostly when Pike was trying to cover Jim's ass). Any time Starfleet was involved between the two, Spock knew about it, but he was unaware of this "business" that Jim mentioned in the message.

Spock shifted restlessly on Jim's chair before he decided to comm Dr. McCoy for answers.

He pressed a button. "Bridge to McCoy."

"McCoy here. What do you want? I'm busy."

"I merely want to inquire the whereabouts of Captain Kirk."

"Didn't he say he was in San Francisco?"

"Negative. He said that he was 'on-planet', but he did not elaborate further."

"And you just automatically assumed that I know everything that's going on in Jim's life?"

"Yes."

There was a sound of a huff on McCoy's end. "Look, whether or not I know what's going on, I still wouldn't tell you anyway, you nosy pointy-eared bastard."

"Doctor..."

"Just let it go, Spock," McCoy interrupted with a sigh. "This isn't something you should be poking around in."

"I assure you, Doctor, I will not 'poke' Captain Kirk."

"Don't give me that, you damn hobgoblin. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You leave Jim alone, ya hear? He'll tell you what he's doing on-planet if he's good and ready. Don't badger him. He's got enough on his plate. Now leave me alone. I have some vaccinations I gotta administer. McCoy out."

There was a moment of silence when McCoy hung up. The air was heavy with more questions than they had started with.

Uhura swiveled around to frown at Spock. "He said 'if' Kirk is good and ready, not 'when'. Do you think this has to do with that fake Betazoid Ambassador? He didn't tell us anything then either."

Spock just looked directly in front of him, staring out into the black, starry abyss. He suppressed a shiver as he remembered Jim's past, locked away in those steel boxes. "I sincerely hope not."

Because Spock wasn't sure that Jim could go through those memories again.

He wasn't sure if he could.

It really was unfortunate that the universe wouldn't give him or the rest of the crew a choice about the matter.

They were in for the surprise of their lives, whether or not they wanted it or not.

"No, no, no! Tha' ain't rite!"

"Vhat do you mean? Ze calculations are correct!"

"Ah don't think yer rite, laddie. Ye fergot to calculate in particle acceleration and trajectory of atoms."

"Zat is basis of my calculations! Your reviring vill cause an internal implosion and reconfigure ze molecules inwolwed."

A beeping distracted Scotty and Chekov from their argument in the transporter room and Scotty quickly reached out to reply.

"Scotty 'ere," Scotty said into the communicator.

"It's me," came Jim's tired voice. "Beam me up, Scotty."

Chekov and Scotty glanced at each other, wariness in both their gazes. Jim had been on Earth for a little over a week with completely no word. Not even McCoy had heard back from Jim, which made everyone all the more nervous.

"Aye, aye, Capt'n," replied Scotty.

The Scot's finger was inches away from beaming Jim back when Chekov childishly smacked his hand away.

"Ve hawe not completely fixed ze transporter! Vhat if Keptin is harmed vhile ve beam him back?!"

"Dun't worry, laddie. It'll be fine," replied Scotty as he pushed the button.

He would come to regret those words for the rest of his life.

McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes screwed shut. He silently counted to ten and opened his eyes, hoping that the view in front of him had changed. But Chekov was still holding an absolutely terrified child with blond hair and bright irises of sky blue. Oddly enough, he was wearing clothes that fit him: jeans with a black leather jacket and a simple grey shirt beneath it – no doubt the clothes that Jim had beamed up with.

"So you're telling me that, after messing around with the transporter, Jim came back on board like that? You've gotta be shitting me," growled McCoy.

"In our defense…" started Scotty.

"Don't even start. How the hell did this even happen?"

"Ve vere vorking on a modification for ze transporter vhen Keptin called for beam up. Because of some reviring issues…" he shot a glare at Scotty who sheepishly looked away, "ze Keptin somehow returned…mini."

"You know what, I don't even want to know. You can go tell the hobgoblin what you did and then you will fix it, you understand me? And if you tell anyone else about this, I will make your life very miserable," McCoy all but hissed. And then held out his arms. "Give me him."

Chekov made to obey, but James clung tighter to the Russian, whimpering slightly.

The sound made McCoy's chest ache and he instantly changed tactics. He lowered his tone, make his voice soft and warm. "Hey kiddo, my name is Bones. What's your name?"

James looked at Bones with a suspicious expression. "James…" he whispered back, immediately ducking his head away.

"It's nice to meet you, James. I just want to make sure that you're not hurt. Is that okay?"

James raised his head a little, but made no move to reply.

Bones swallowed hard, knowing the exact reason why this Jim was so shy and afraid.

He bent down a little so that he was at eye-level with James and smiled warmly, erasing all traces of grump or annoyance from his face. "James, I promise I won't hurt you. I'd like to be your friend, but only if you want to. Can we be friends?"

James hesitated, but a thoughtful look spread across his face.

"Please?" Bones asked once more.

Something about his tone and his expression mollified James and he reached out his tiny arms for Bones.

Bones willingly and happily hugged James to his chest.

There was a clicking noise and Bones' small smile instantly transformed into a scowl. "Did you just take a picture of me?"

Scotty shifted to hide slightly behind Chekov who shook his head hard, his curls bouncing comically.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "I'll deal with you two later. Now get. And other than the hobgoblin, you tell no one, you hear?"

The two scampered out immediately as Bones turned to set James down on the biobed and glanced at him. James had fair skin – much whiter than the adult Jim. His hair was ruffled and sticking up in all directions; his blue eyes were wide and full of innocence, and when he smiled, his dimples showed.

All-in-all, as much as Bones loathed to admit it, James was cute. But James was too small to be six. He wasn't as pudgy as kids his age should be and he looked at Bone with well-hidden suspicion in his all-too-knowing eyes.

Yes, Bones was aware of Jim's childhood. He knew about Winona's negligence and Frank's abuse. He knew of Jim's scars that would never disappear and which broken bones had mended ever so painfully. He also knew that if he removed Jimmy's shirt, he would be met with purple and bluish-green bruises covering the kid's torso, arms, and probably his legs as well.

And he was terrified to look.

In that instant, James' weary eyes caught sight of his fear and flinched back, hugging his knees to make himself into a smaller ball.

Clearly, the young boy knew how to read expressions and body language well – a protective mechanism to predict and hide himself if he needed to.

And damn did that make Bones so fucking angry at Frank and Winona.

Wiping his face clean, he let a comforting smile stretch across his face. "Jim, do you mind if I do some scans on you? I'd like to make sure that you're nice and healthy."

He slowly pulled out a tricorder, making sure that he made no abrupt movements that would frighten James. "I'm going to run this tricorder over you and it'll tell me if you have any owies, okay?"

The little kid nodded, but as soon as the tricorder began humming, he shifted. There was an error ping. Frowning, Bones tried to get another reading, but James moved again, resulting in another unsuccessful data read.

It took a very specific timing and a very specific movement for such a thing to occur. A tricorder was built to be used out in the field, with little children who could never sit still, and in all types of situations. For it to be rendered useless took such skill that it was nearly impossible to do it properly, let alone twice in one sitting. It spoke of years and years of experience and avoidance of medical tools.

And James was probably only six.

What the hell had Frank done to him?

Bones sighed and backed away. "Alright, James. I get it. No tricorders. Just tell me if you're alright?"

James gave him an odd look coupled with distrust, but nodded anyway.

Bones opened his mouth to ask another question, only to be interrupted by Spock rushing into the Sickbay. If anyone were to ask later, he would deny the glimmer of worry in his eyes.

"Doctor, I heard from Mister Chekov that something happened to Captain Kirk upon his return?"

McCoy crossed his arms and gave Spock a long glance. "Yeah. The two idiots managed to screw up the rematerialization," he responded as he nodded towards the kid before him.

The Vulcan stepped around to get a better view of his Captain. A frown could barely been seen on his face, but it spoke volumes of his concern. He turned to McCoy. "Do we have a course of action?"

"You're the Acting Captain here, Spock. You tell me."

"Is he physically sound?"

"Yeah, he just reverted back to when he was six-years-old, I think. How that happened, I have no idea, but you guys better fix it," he hissed.

Spock cocked is head slightly. "You seem to be hiding something, Doctor. I understand the urgency; however, I do not understand the tone underlying your words. Is it something I need to know?"

McCoy stepped a little closer to Spock and spoke quietly into the Vulcan's ear. "You've been in his memories. You know, and you know that the last thing Jim wants is people knowing his past. We need to get him back to normal before the entire crew finds out."

"Understood."

"I'll keep an eye out for him here while you go do what you need to do."

"That may be a problem, Doctor."

"And why is that, you damn hobgoblin?"

"Your patient is missing."

"The hell…?!"

Bones swung around to see that the biobed was vacated, with not even an indent in the sheets to indicate that James was ever there.

"Damn it, Jim!"

He grabbed his communicator. "McCoy to Bridge. A small child, about the age of six, with blond hair and blue eyes, is lost on board. Someone find him and bring him to me immediately."

"Bridge to McCoy. Understood. Should we make a ship-wide broadcast?"

McCoy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, much like what the adult Jim did when he was flustered. "Yeah, go for it."

In seconds, McCoy heard Uhura sending out the news and Spock was already on his way out.

"Spock," McCoy called.

Spock turned around. "Yes, Doctor?"

"Find him. Keep him safe."

"From what?"

McCoy hesitated, and looked at the spot where James had once sat. "That's a question we'd all like an answer to."

The search for the missing kid had sent the entire ship into frenzy. Rumors about him spread like wildfire. No one knew who his parents were and some actually started to think that Chekov was his father, simply because of his described blonde hair. Chekov spent most of his time with red-tipped ears as Uhura and Sulu teased him endlessly about it.

Despite searching for over two hours, no one had even caught a glimpse of the kid. Spock watched quietly as Chekov and Scotty sprinted past him, looking under tables and desks. James was truly gifted in hiding.

Uhura nudged him. "Who's the kid, Spock?"

"I cannot answer that."

"Then it has to be related to Kirk. You're only ever quiet when it comes to covering his ass."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but remained reticent.

"Bulls-eye. Is the kid his? Is he even on board yet?"

"Nyota, your time would be better spent looking for the child."

"Fine, fine. Do you know the kid? Kids tend to stick with what they're comfortable with, like a favorite recollection or place."

He paused, thinking. While he knew about Jim's past, he didn't know enough to answer that question.

Luckily, he didn't have to before Scotty came running in. "Spock, ah know where he is. Keenser said tha' he saw the laddie up in the vents."

"Any chance we can get people up there to search for him?" asked Uhura.

"No. The only uns tha' can get up there are Keenser, Chekov, and Jim."

"And sending people up with the kid will only frighten him further. What should we do, Spock?"

"We will continue performing our tasks as normal. Perhaps the normalcy will placate the child to join us."

An Ensign approached them. "Commander Spock, Admiral Pike is on the line for you."

"I will take it in the Captain's ready room. Everyone else, please return to your duties," Spock said before turning curtly on his heels to answer Pike's call.

Pike was already waiting patiently on screen when Spock entered the empty room. He was smiling softly, but the lines on his face had deepened, speaking of new worries.

"Good to see you, Spock," greeted Pike.

"And you as well, Admiral," returned Spock, inclining his head slightly as a gesture of respect.

"Where's Kirk? Isn't he supposed to be back on board already?"

"There has been a slight complication."

Immediately, alarm spread across Pike's worn features. "What happened? What did he do?"

Spock cocked his head in confusion. It was normal for Pike to become worried about Jim and the situations he tended to find himself in, but this reaction was more exaggerated - much like Dr. McCoy's when he was asked about the reasoning behind Kirk's beam-down to Earth.

"Why do you assume that Captain Kirk did anything? Is this related to the business that the Captain had on-planet?"

Pike sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "He didn't tell you. Of course he didn't..."

"What is it that the Captain has not informed me on?"

"It's not my place to say if he hasn't yet. What's this 'complication' that you mentioned?"

Despite Spock's illogical urge to pressure the answers out of Pike, he just squared his shoulders and succinctly summed up what happened.

"According to Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Commander Scott, there was a transporter malfunction and Captain Kirk has regressed to a child-like state."

"Regressed? As in he's sitting on your ship exactly as he was when he was a kid?"

"Dr. McCoy estimates that Cap-...Jim," Spock corrected, "Is approximately six-years-old."

"Six? And what's the state of his mind? Is it of him now or of him then?"

"From the brief interaction we have had with him, it seems that his mind has also regressed to the time when he was aged six."

Pike stood abruptly, panic in his words, "Then please tell me no one tried to touch him."

Spock's eyebrow raised. "I was not aware that you knew of Jim's childhood."

"Spock, where is Jim now?" asked Pike, completely disregarding Spock's curiosity.

"I am sorry to inform you that we cannot determine his location. He has taken to the vents to hide before we had the chance to calm him."

"He always did have a knack for hiding. Does the crew know who he is?"

"Dr. McCoy, Ensign Chekov, Lieutenant Commander Scott, and I know of his true identity."

"Keep it within the Command crew. I'll be over in half-an-hour."

"Sir, I do not understand why it is that you are boarding the Enterprise at this juncture."

"If you want Jim out of the vents so you can fix this damn thing, then you need me. I'll be taking the next shuttle up. Make sure you broadcast my arrival throughout the ship so Jim can hear. Don't use my title. And tell McCoy to get his ass to the dock. We're going to need him too. Pike out."

Then the screen went black.

As baffled as Spock was, he knew better than to disobey a direct order from Admiral Pike, especially when it involved Jim.

Sweeping out of the ready room, he pulled his communicator out and made a ship-wide broadcast. "This is Commander Spock speaking. Christopher Pike will be boarding this ship in approximately thirty minutes. Dr. McCoy, please greet him in the dock hall. That is all. Spock out."

He pressed a button on the turbolift, taking it down to the shuttle dock. As the doors opened, he found the entire Bridge crew and Dr. McCoy waiting for him - all with curious and worried expressions.

"Spock, why's the Admiral coming on board?" asked Sulu. "Does this have to do with the missing kid?"

Both Chekov and Scotty shared a guilty look - something that was not missed by their friends.

From that, Sulu connected the few dots he had and blurted out, "The kid has got to be related to Kirk!"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that," Spock answered.

"You might've as well told them with that, you damn hobgoblin!" snapped McCoy as he started to pace.

The doctor rubbed his face wearily, sighing heavily. "We should tell them, Spock."

"You are the one who adamantly protested against such an action."

McCoy swung a wild arm to gesture at Chekov and Scotty. "Out of the seven of us, four already know! Sooner or later, someone's gonna squeak."

"Dr. McCoy, it is an unlikely circumstance that I agree with you; as such, when it does occur - specifically concerning the wellbeing of the child - I tend to not waver in my convictions. I believe that it is the best course of action if we continue in our current efforts to discover the child. Admiral Pike has agreed and is extending his hand to help us until this matter has been resolved."

"Of course he would, but he's going to end up telling the Command crew anyway. It'd be better if it came from us."

"You were aware of Admiral Pike's involvement with…the child?" Spock asked, almost slipping up with his surprise.

"Yeah." McCoy continued pacing. "I don't know everything, but I know enough."

"And you still wish to tell the remaining members of the Command crew?"

"Not everything. Just who the damn kid is. It'll make it easier on us to keep an eye out for the idiot."

Spock considered it and found no fault in McCoy's words. "I understand. Shall I explain?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake! We know that the kid is Kirk!" burst out Uhura.

"What?" McCoy and Spock rounded on her.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, no one told us. You two aren't exactly the most subtle peas in the pod; it's not hard to make the connections. I just figured it out."

"I do not understand that reference…" muttered Spock.

"Doesn't matter. Relax, you two. No one but the people in this room know who the kid is, and it'll stay that way. We promise."

"What did you mean by 'not everything'?" Sulu asked.

McCoy shrugged off his question and diverted, "When is Pike coming?"

"It seems that he is arriving now."

The warning lights had already started flashing and sounds of something metallic latching onto the outside of the ship reached their ears. As the doors began to order, Spock, Nyota, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty both subconsciously straightened – their Starfleet training kicking in. McCoy, on the other hand, merely crossed his arms and grumpily tapped his foot in impatience.

All of them missed the thudding above their heads while the doors to the hanger opened, to reveal the one and only Admiral Pike.

The older man was wearing the standard grey uniform of Starfleet and leaning on a cane, though not quite as heavily as a few months ago. With worry written across his worn face, he walked slowly, capturing the gazes of each member of Enterprise's Command crew.

"Where's Jim?" he asked, his voice holding the same steel as Jim's when he was in his "Captain" mode.

"We do not know," Spock replied, "As I had informed you earlier."

Pike didn't question further and instead glanced around the hanger. He stepped forward, searching. "James? James, you can come out now. James?"

There was a sound of clinking behind them and they all swerved around to see the metal vent on the ceiling slamming open with a loud thud. James dropped to the ground, scampering forward and tripping slightly before jumping into Pike's arms.

James hugged Pike tightly; his small arms wrapped around Pike's neck and he buried his face into the older man's shoulder. The small boy was trembling and as he shifted around to grasp Pike better, the crew could see tears running down his cheeks, even though he made no crying sounds.

"Shh, it's okay, James. You're safe, I promise," murmured Pike as he rubbed the boy's back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," whimpered James, "I'm so sorry. I was scared. Please don't tell Frank. Please don't tell Frank!"

Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty mouthed "Frank?" to each other, but otherwise remained silent.

"I would never. You know that, James."

"I didn't mean to run away. I don't even remember running away. I swear!"

"It's alright, James. I know you didn't. There was an accident and you were brought on board the flagship Enterprise. These people here are my friends. Is it alright if I introduce you to them?"

James just buried his face into Pike's shoulder.

"I promise that they're really nice and that they care about you, James."

"Why?"

The solitary question made everyone's heart ache. Suddenly, McCoy and Spock's odd behavior and the lack of knowledge of Jim's past made sense.

And it was like a hard punch to the gut.

How in the world did they not know about this? Jim was always so cheerful, caring, and laid-back; he smiled more often than not. They had assumed that his commitment issues with relationships were the cause of a bad heartbreak – not this. Not abuse and neglect.

How had they never noticed how much pain Jim hid?

"James, I would like nothing more than be your friend," Spock said.

"His name is Spock," Pike added, "He's a Vulcan. You've read about them, haven't you?"

James didn't respond, but stared at the Vulcan with a bit of bafflement in his eyes. Slowly and tentatively, he reached out, curiosity deep in his blue irises.

Spock simply stood motionless and let the little child run his small fingers over his sharp ears. Amusement and fondness showed in his brown eyes. James read it easily and nodded as he withdrew, glancing over at the others who all greeted him with smiles.

"I'm Sulu."

"Uhura."

"My name is Pavel."

"Scotty, sir."

He nodded at each one individually until he came to a stop at McCoy and remembered Bones' warm, comforting arms when he was hugged. He looked at the doctor with unusual trust as he let his head fall tiredly against Pike.

"Heya, kiddo," smiled McCoy. "Nice to see ya again."

"You talk funny, Mister Bones," James finally said, making Bones the first official person he really spoke to besides Pike.

Bones couldn't help it and grinned broadly, feeling as if he had won a battle. All his brotherly affection for his best friend leaked through his usually gruff expressions.

"I'm from Georgia. We all talk funny from down there," McCoy drawled, purposely making his accent heavier and eliciting a small smile from the young kid.

James pulled slightly away from Pike to look at the elder man's face. "Mister Chris, can I play with Mister Bones?"

"Of course you can, champ. But only if 'Mister Bones' is okay with it."

He turned his big, blue eyes onto McCoy. McCoy could almost see the uplifting ears of a puppy on James' head and he melted in an instant.

"Come here, Jimbo," Bones said. "Let me show you around the ship. You're gonna love it."

As Pike passed James to the doctor, McCoy leaned in to speak quietly into the elder man's ear. "The cat's out of the bag. You might as well explain it to them."

Pike sighed. "He didn't tell them."

Bones hefted James to hold him better in his arms. "He didn't tell them about why he left, let alone this. Did you expect otherwise, Chris?"

"No, I guess not."

James tapped Bones impatiently on the shoulder. "Mister Bones, aren't we going to go see the ship?"

He chuckled and started walking away from the baffled Command crew, murmuring inane stories to the child, making quiet childish giggles fill the tense atmosphere.

They all watched the two leave and once the doors shut behind them, silence reined.

"Jim didn't have the greatest childhood," said Pike, his quiet voice cutting through the air like a knife.

"Yeah...kinda figured that out," swallowed Sulu. "And I'm not sure if I want to know what happened."

"It's not pretty, that's for sure," scoffed Pike. He crossed his arms. "Look, I know Jim doesn't want any of you to know this, but you need to if you're going to take of James until you fix this entire fiasco."

"It started with Jim's birth. You know about the Kelvin incident and how George Kirk gave his life to save 800 lives. Winona never really bounced back from that. From the moment he was born, Winona couldn't look at Jim without seeing George, so she didn't and took off to the stars. I know Jim doesn't blame her; she suffered a hard loss."

"But you blame her," Uhura said softly.

Pike just gave her a sad smile. "She did the best she could, and Jim would tell you that too. What I can't forgive her for is the fact that she left him with Frank - her second husband. He didn't take too kindly to taking care of another man's child and he was a drunk. When he drank, he became violent. Jim didn't manage to successfully leave until he was about twelve or thirteen."

"I tried to do what I could, but Winona couldn't believe that Frank would raise a hand against her children. Even if she did, I don't think she would have done anything. Jim didn't...exist...in her eyes."

"Vhat do you mean by zat, sir?" asked Chekov.

"And 'children'? As in, multiple kids?" frowned Sulu.

Pike gave him a confused look. "Jim has brother. You didn't know?"

"Jim has not informed the crew about Sam," answered Spock.

"You knew?" hissed Uhura. "And you didn't tell anyone?"

"It was not my place to tell."

"Regardless," Pike said, giving them all hard looks, "I'm not telling you any of this for you to pity or pester Jim later. I'm telling you because you need to know how to handle him at his current age. James is going to be particularly sensitive to facial expressions and body language. He is a master at reading people because he had to learn. Even at the slightest inclination of anger, fear, or irritation, James will pick it up in an instant – a skill that I'm sure hasn't changed. His reaction at that age was to hide or manipulate the circumstances to his advantage. Let him do what he wants until he is comfortable enough to initiate things."

"Don't touch him unless he lets you. Don't make any sudden movements and for God's sake, never raise your voice against him. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir!" they all snapped.

"Good."

"Sir, may I ask what your connection was to James?" Spock asked carefully.

It was an innocent yet loaded question, and Pike, being who he was, knew exactly what Spock was truly asking.

"You mean why I didn't take him out of his abusive home? I stopped by to visit a few times when he was young, but I'm ashamed to say that I didn't realize anything until it was much too late. I only made the connections after he had left." Pike shook his head slowly, "Jim was skilled from the very start in hiding his pain and emotions. He still does it. The only difference now is that I can usually see through his bullshit and help him if I can."

Pike straightened his back, a glimmer of command back in his eyes. "Lieutenant Scott and Ensign Chekov, fix the goddamn transporter and get your Captain back to his normal age. The rest of you, I expect absolute silence regarding this matter, or it won't be me that you'll have to deal with. Spock, you're with me. We need to talk."

"Yes, sir."

The two strode off in the same direction as McCoy and James, leaving behind an emotionally compromised Command crew who had absolutely no idea what to do now.

"Spock, the issue of Jim aside, there's something important I have to tell you," said Pike as he walked alongside the Vulcan.

"Is this why you called earlier?"

"Yes. Starfleet has gathered intel that a small rebellion force on Earth is planning an attack on the Enterprise. The target is not the ship, but Jim himself. From the data, it seems that they want to take Jim hostage and make an example out of him."

"When do these rebels plan to attack? And with what method?"

"We can't be sure. That's all we have, so the most we can do is just issue a warning."

"Do they know that Jim has returned to the Enterprise?"

"Yes, which is why I think they'll be making their move soon. When we informed Jim of this, he insisted on returning earlier to spring a trap for them, despite my advice against it. Starfleet can't help without making a huge mess out of everything and Jim is out of commission as of this moment, so it's up to you guys." Pike stopped and grasped Spock's upper arm firmly. "Spock, keep Jim safe."

"I will make every endeavor to do so," Spock replied.

"Good. I need to head back now. I'm going to say goodbye to James before I go."

As if on cue, James came running down the hall, a huge smile on his face and Bones chasing behind him with an equally large grin. He ran smack into Pike's legs and hugged it tightly.

"Whoa, there, James. What're you doing?" laughed Pike, hauling James up high above his head and settling him against his hip.

"Mister Bones and I are playing a game!"

"Sounds like fun!" Pike kneeled down to set James down and be at eye-level with him, an apologetic smile on his face.

Instantly, Jim's smile disappeared and a wary look filled his expressions. Minutely, his small body tensed, as if ready to run at any moment.

"James, I'm sorry, but I have to go now. I've got some important work to do. Don't worry though. Mister Bones and Mister Spock here will take good care of you, alright?"

Quietly, James nodded, looking down and scuffing his feet.

"Sorry, son," murmured Pike as he ruffled James' hair.

Bones came up to them and placed a strong hand on James' shoulder. The young boy flinched a little, but obviously forced his body under control and backed up to press against Bones' shins.

"James, say bye to Mister Chris," Bones said softly.

"Bye…" mumbled James.

"Bye, James. I'll see you soon, I promise." Pike straightened and turned to Spock. "Remember what I told you, Spock. McCoy, I'm leaving James to you. I'll contact you soon."

He gave James one last fond look before sauntering back the direction in which he came from. With each step that he took, James withdrew into himself and Spock could easily read the panic in Bones' eyes.

The Vulcan knelt before James, keeping a slight distance from the boy so that he would not accidentally touch him. "James, do not feel sad. Dr. McCoy, the crew of the Enterprise, and I will keep you company. You need not fear Frank any more. We can promise you that."

James glanced up, curiosity clear on his face.

"What would you like to do, James? If it is within our abilities, we will fulfill any of your desires."

"Can…can I touch your ears, Mister Spock?"

McCoy hid a snort behind a cough.

Spock ignored him and leaned his head down. "Yes, you may."

James burst into a smile and ran his fingers over Spock's right ear. He giggled, but that quickly died when he noticed Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty coming up behind the Vulcan and he pressed closer to Spock.

"Do not fear, James. They will not harm you."

"They just wanna be your friends, Jimbo," added Bones. "And Chekov over there? He's a mathematical genius. If you ask him nicely, he'd be more than happy to work over some problems with you. Or if you're not up to that, Sulu is wickedly good at telling stories. He can tell you all about our crazy Captain and his adventures."

James perked up immediately and scampered over to Chekov. "You like math, Mister Pavel?"

"I love math! Vould you like to see the vork I do?"

"Yes, please!" James reached up with his right hand and Chekov quickly took it, talking rapidly as he led James down the hall.

"Who would've thought that Kirk is a secret nerd?" Sulu wondered out loud.

McCoy chuckled. "If he wasn't so worked up about maintaining his reputation, Jim would've long ago become nerdy cohorts with that kid genius of yours. You know, Jim probably could give Chekov a run for his money. He's smarter than most people give him credit for."

"I don't believe that. Pavel isn't the youngest Navigator in Starfleet for nothing."

"Wanna bet? Hundred credits on Jim beating Chekov."

"Hell yeah. You're on. Compete when Kirk's back to normal?"

McCoy held out a hand and Sulu shook it with a mischievous smile.

The doctor returned it easily. "It's gonna be fun to take your money." He glanced at the others. "Anyone else want to join in?"

"I'm in. My bet's on Chekov," Uhura answered.

"Ah bet on Jim," grinned Scotty.

Nyota turned to her ex-boyfriend. "What about you, Spock? You betting?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "It is against Starfleet regulations to gamble onboard, Nyota."

"Shoulda known he was gonna be a wet blanket," muttered McCoy.

"However," Spock continued, "I see no harm in participating."

Sulu cheered. "So who do you think is going to win, Spock?"

"I believe Jim will win."

"What? No way!"

"As the saying goes, 'the evidence will speak for itself'."

"So, we're settled. We just gotta get Jim back to normal," McCoy said.

Spock was immediately on it. "Mister Scott, please continue your work on the transporters. Mister Sulu and Nyota, please return with me to the Bridge and monitor the ship. Admiral Pike has informed me of a possible attack on the Enterprise and I would like to be prepared." He turned to McCoy. "Doctor, locate Mister Chekov and James and proceed to bring them to the Bridge as well."

"Why?"

"Must you question everything I ask of you, Doctor?"

"I'm going with 'yes', otherwise it'd just be too easy for you."

Spock would've sighed if he wasn't Vulcan. "I would like James to be nearby in case anything were to happen. I have promised Admiral Pike that I would 'keep an eye' on him."

"Why couldn't you have just said that from the beginning?"

"As you said, Doctor, it would be too easy for you."

"Damn green-blooded bat, you've been hanging out with Jim too much. Getting too snarky for your own good. It's too early for this. I'm out," grumbled McCoy, stalking off.

Scotty laughed wholeheartedly at McCoy's retreating back. "Ah'm gonna go work on the transporters. Commander, send Chekov down when ye see 'im. Ah need his 'elp."

And then he was gone too.

Sulu puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms, looking at Spock and Uhura warily. "Well, this is going to be fun."

Uhura watched a very tense Spock head down the opposite direction of Scotty, and sighed. "Yeah. You said it…"

It seemed that the Command crew didn't have to go very far to find James and Chekov. Both were immersed in some complex mathematical equations over Chekov's station. The two barely even noticed that Spock, HIkaru, and Uhura had come onto the Bridge. They whispered, made rapid movements and scrawled all over the PADD without once looking up.

"You made a mistake!" exclaimed James.

"I did not! The equation of special relativity is t times one over the square root of one minus v squared over c squared."

"But the velocity depends on what you observe, so your math is wrong."

"That is true, but you are looking from different perspective, little one. If you look at this…" Chekov circled something on the PADD, "This component becomes this." He scribbled something down.

James frowned, looking at the equations before him, until a light bulb lit up above his head. "Oh! I see!"

"Oh my God…we're so going to lose this bet, aren't we?" muttered Sulu to Uhura.

"Not necessarily. He got it wrong, didn't he?" she whispered back.

"He's SIX-years-old!" he hissed back.

"Damn. Uh, maybe he doesn't work on this kind of stuff as he gets older. He might be rusty when he's the Captain of the Enterprise."

Spock hid a smile and stepped towards the two, glancing over the work that they were doing. Chekov was teaching James about time dilation, which described how time and space were relative depending on the speed of the observer. It was a complex theory and James was indeed quite spectacular at grasping the concept at such a young age.

He loathed to disrupt this transfer of knowledge, but getting James back to normal was priority. "Mister Chekov, Mister Scott requires your assistance in the transporter room."

"Yes, sir. Little one, I vill be back soon."

"But…" James' lips wobbled.

"Do not worry, James. I will keep you company. Would you like to sit in the Captain's chair?"

James shook his head. "I don't like space. Don't like ships," he said, much to everyone's surprise. The great James T. Kirk didn't like space or ships when he was a kid?!

"What would you like to do then?"

"Where is Mister Bones?"

"Looking for you, I presume."

"Can I…?" he trailed off, once again unsure of himself.

But since Spock was Spock, he understood exactly what James wanted and he coolly pulled out his communicator and spoke into it. "Spock to Dr. McCoy."

"McCoy here. Have you found the kid yet?"

"Yes. He is on the Bridge and asking for you. Where is your location?"

"Deck C and heading to the turbolift. I'll be there in two minutes."

James started bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation and Spock smiled inwardly.

"No need, Doctor. James will find you. Spock out." Spock nodded towards Sulu. "James, Nyota will take you to the doctor."

"Come on, let's go, James," smiled Uhura.

James gave her a suspicious look, his expressions almost bordering on surprise.

She held out a hand – an offer that James didn't accept. The child took a step back, his wide blue eyes shocked. Dodging her, James grasped onto Sulu's pants and hid behind him.

"Uh…" said Sulu, a little confused on what to do.

"Mister Sulu, would you accompany James to locate Doctor McCoy?" suggested Spock.

"Okay. James, shall we go?"

The kid nodded and tentatively took Sulu's hand; he shot Uhura one last, confused glance before the doors closed behind them.

"What was that?" exclaimed Nyota. "I thought it was Frank that abused him. Wouldn't he be more afraid of men?"

"Winona neglected Jim as a child. Perhaps he is simply unused to the attention from a female. Do not take offense to it, Nyota."

"I'm not. I don't. I just…" she sighed. "I don't know. It bothers me more than it should to see this side of Jim. I never expected this. Am I a bad friend for not knowing any of this?"

"Jim is amazingly apt at keeping things 'close to the chest'. Do not take it to heart, Nyota. The only one who was not fooled was Jim himself."

She huffed, crossing her arms tightly, as if hugging herself. "Yeah, I guess…" But the turmoil within her had not subsided. She was a crappy friend, no matter what anyone said, and she was going to do everything in her power to change that. Jim was always there for her, even when she shoved him away, and she would be damned if she didn't reciprocate.

"Slow down there, James," chuckled Sulu as he chased the young boy down the hall where McCoy stood waiting with a smile. A grin was threatening to burst his face and he loved it.

Jim had always seemed so open, being so talkative, but the more he talked, the more empty his words were. Jim knew everyone's past and present and while he often laughed and shared stories with others, it usually led to nowhere – only fueling the previous misconceptions people had of him. Now, Sulu knew that they were only reinforcing the mask that Jim had created.

They were all fooled by his arrogance, smiles, and aloofness, making people believe that he always had everything handed to him on a silver platter because he was a hero's son.

No one could have expected Jim to have such a torrid childhood, suffering from God knows how many years of abuse. It made Sulu sick to the stomach, and quite frankly, admire Jim more than he thought he could. It took strength to be able to become someone as amazing as Jim was now – to overcome such harsh obstacles in life with such flair.

Sulu smiled as he heard James make airplane noises as he ran in circles around McCoy's legs. He noticed a group of seven men walking down towards them, looking at the child with such confusion on their faces. They were all Caucasian, wearing the usual red shirts with pristine polished, black shoes.

He was about to warn James to be careful, but the young child beat him to the punch. James skidded to a stop, staring at the men with fear in his eyes.

"James?" Sulu called out, his footsteps quickening.

James whimpered as the men gave him an odd glance, even as they passed by him.

Sulu was beside him in seconds and instantly, James grabbed onto him.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, kiddo?" asked McCoy, bending down to be at eye level with Jim.

His little fingers dug into Sulu's arm. "They're bad men," he whispered.

"What do you mean? They work on this ship, James. Don't worry."

"No…they're bad men."

McCoy was immediately on guard. "Sulu, have you seen those men before?"

"No, but I don't know everyone on this ship. I'm not Kirk."

"They look like they're heading to the Bridge…"

"Mister Spock!" James exclaimed and took off running in the direction where the men had gone.

"What the hell was that?" shouted Sulu as he and McCoy went after him.

"James reads people like books, remember? If he says someone's bad, that means that they're about to do something," McCoy hissed. "Fuck. Why the hell can't we catch up to a fucking six-year-old?!"

James had reached the turbolift and the door was closing quickly.

"Shit!" Sulu shouted, pushing himself faster, but he was still too late. The doors nearly slammed into Sulu's nose.

He pressed the button from the turbolift several times, but the light never returned to the small button. Something or someone had shut the turbolift off. Twisting, Sulu rammed his fist against the switch to set off the red alert klaxon, but nothing happened.

"Shit, what the hell do we do now?" asked Sulu, turning around the look at McCoy.

McCoy ran his fingers through his hair, his entire posture sagging in defeat. "I have no idea. Let's get the wonder kid and see if he can get us back up to the Bridge."

"What about James?" questioned Sulu, following McCoy down the other way.

"He's a genius. He'll figure something out."

"And if he doesn't?"

McCoy just gave Sulu a long look. "You really think that hobgoblin will let anything happen to him?"

Sulu cocked his head, considering McCoy's words before nodding and moving on. "Yep, he's in good hands." He glanced at McCoy's tense back and felt worry lick at him. "I hope…" he muttered.

Spock crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe I heard you correctly. You wish for us to hand over our Captain – a hero of the Federation – to you so that you may torture and make an example out of him?"

The sarcastic question of "are you fucking serious?!" hung heavily between the seven men and the Vulcan, and neither were moving an inch.

Each of the seven men was burly; their muscles were bulging out against their tight shirts – almost like Dr. McCoy when he accidentally put on Jim's clothing. All of them had out their phasers that were set on kill and holding them against each of members on the Bridge.

"Yeah, you heard right, you fucking alien. Now where the fuck is Kirk?" growled the leader – an Caucasian man with a brown mustache.

"As you can see, he is currently not on the Bridge."

"Then where the hell is he?"

"How did you get on board?" Spock asked, completely ignoring the man's question - unfazed by his anger.

"Your security is almost ridiculously lax when it comes to letting Redshirts on. No one bats an eye."

"I will be sure to enforce stricter regulations regarding that matter then."

"Where is Captain Kirk?" he roared, punctuating each word with a shake of his phaser.

Spock eyed the weapon. With how tense the rebel's hand was, there was a 43.9% chance of him accidentally firing it and harming a crew member, and Spock just knew that Jim would give him hell later if he didn't 'logic' his way out of this.

Choosing his words carefully, Spock answered slowly and deliberately. "Captain Kirk is not on board."

"Do not lie to me, Vulcan. We know that he boarded immediately after the funeral!"

Uhura's curiosity spiked at the word 'funeral' but she remained reticent as her brown eyes noticed a slight movement behind the men. She tilted her chair, glancing towards the turbolift entrance.

Hidden well behind a corner was James, pressing his small body against the wall, making him almost disappear into the shadows the Bridge. He was frowning and if Uhura could read him correctly, there clear determination on his face. She recognized that look – it was something she saw on adult Kirk right before he did something incredibly stupid and brilliant at the same time.

Oh shit.

"Vulcans do not lie. Captain Kirk is not aboard the Enterprise."

"Then comm for him. Tell him to come back. But if you even hint at our presence, I will kill you."

"And what if I refuse?"

James had started to move, creeping forward ever so silently. Like a mouse, he avoided the men and made his way unnoticed around the circular Bridge to crouch underneath Chekov's usual station. Immediately, he snuck down the PADD that they had played with earlier and started typing furiously on it with both hands.

Through all of this, he was completely quiet – he made absolutely no sounds. Sadly, it was probably a skill that he had gained through his years with Frank.

He made one more swiping movement and then suddenly, the entire Bridge began blaring loudly and obnoxiously as red lights flashed around them.

"What the hell?" shouted one of the rebels over the sounds. "I thought you turned them off, Johan!"

"I did! Someone must've overturned the program!"

"Didn't you say only someone from the Bridge could do it, you fucking imbecile?" snarled the leader.

"Don't call me that, Mikhail," growled Johan, working hard on a PADD he had pulled out of his jacket. "You were the one that fucking said that Kirk came back on board!"

"Shut up! Look, there's a freaking kid under the console over there!" exclaimed the fourth one, pointing directly at James who was trying desperately to disappear against the legs of the table.

The man who had spotted James ran forward to grab him. James had nowhere to go and ended up scurrying out into the open to find someone or something to hide behind. Spock quickly intercepted the rebel and Vulcan pinched him, just as Johan got the klaxons to shut off. The rebel went down like a sack of potatoes. Instantly, all phasers were set on Spock and he could only freeze where he stood between James and the rest of the rebels.

"Who the fuck is that kid?" questioned Mikhail.

"He is related to a member of this ship," Spock answered, again skirting on the edge of truth.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Uhura inch closer to James. James had frozen again, his entire body tense and he refused to break eye contact with the floor. He had curled up into himself again, making him seem so much smaller than he already was. As much as Spock wanted to comfort him, there was nothing he could say or do to protect him now that he was under so much scrutiny.

"Boss," Johan said, holding up the PADD that James had worked on, "He's the one who overrode my program."

Mikhail's face twisted in ugly anger and he stomped toward James. With each heavy thud, James flinched and hugged himself tighter, but he made no move to get away. He had, after all, learned from Frank that running or dodging only made things worse.

"Whose kid are you?" hissed Mikhail. "How the hell did you know how to do something that like that?"

"Boss, we're not gonna have much time after that alarm. People are gonna know we're here," muttered a Redshirt rebel.

Mikhail ignored him and whipped out a hand, slapping James resolutely on his cheek.

Everyone on the Bridge cringed at the loud sound and expected James to start bawling, but the young boy did nothing. He didn't even flinch, though his body did jolt with the momentum.

His blue eyes raised high and looked directly into Mikhail's. Those blues seemed to drown Mikhail, consuming his entire soul in a single look. As if James could see completely through him, see his every secret, every hurt, and everything he had ever hid from himself and the world.

For a brief second, Mikhail was wholeheartedly and truly afraid of James, and he wanted nothing more than to rid the boy of his eyes once and for all.

He raised his hand again to strike James, but Uhura launched herself forward, wrapping herself around James so that her entire body covered his. Mikhail's fist struck Uhura in the head and she fell onto her side, bringing James down with her.

Unnoticed by all on the Bridge, the turbolift behind them opened to reveal Sulu and a full force of a security team. They stormed out, shouting and barking out orders for the rebels to surrender and put their weapons down.

The rebels obeyed, knowing when they were outgunned, except for Mikhail. Mikhail swung around, still reeling from the overwhelmingly sick feeling he got from James, with his phaser out.

"Boss!" shouted Johan as a warning, but he was too late.

Three or four phaser beams struck Mikhail directly in the chest and he was dead before he even hit the ground. All in all, it was a very anti-climatic end to the rebel leader.

"Are you alright, Nyota?" Spock asked, approaching her.

Uhura was already sitting up, rubbing her head with one hand while the other was wrapped tightly around James. He was clutching her uniform tightly, his wide eyes full of fear and guilt.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry," she responded, giving Spock a smile.

McCoy swooped in, gingerly touching her head while glancing over James. There was a reddening mark on his cheek and the edges were already tingeing purple. He forced down his anger at the rebels for hurting James when he was already this vulnerable and let all of his concern bleed out.

"James, are you okay?" he asked quietly.

James didn't maintain eye contact with the doctor. He alternated between watching the Sulu, Spock, and security empty the Bridge of the remaining rebels and Uhura. Her slender fingers were running comfortingly through his hair, and every time he looked at her, there was bafflement clear on his expressions, as if he could hardly believe that Uhura - a woman - actually knew that he existed and even cared for him.

Bones lightly touched James' arm, trying hard to ignore the flinch that it elicited. "James?"

James nodded, again mute.

"Thank God," Bones sighed in relief

James tugged at Uhura's sleeve and then pointedly glanced at Bones.

The doctor smiled, understanding his silent question. "Yeah, she's alright."

Relief was clear on his little face and he tentatively hugged Uhura for a brief second. Before he pulled away, he whispered, "Thank you, Miss Uhura."

Uhura smiled warmly at him, happy that his distrust of her had faded away. It was completely worth the pain. "Anytime, James."

" James, how did you know how to repair the red alert?" Spock asked, drawing James' attention.

"There's no way he could do that. He's six-years-old! Even Kirk has limits to his genius!" protested Sulu as he came up to them. He plopped down right next to James and ruffled his hair like he would to a little brother. Despite his words, his proud smile spoke otherwise.

James gave them a shy look and started playing with the edge of his shirt. "Frank would sometimes lock me in a ship at his work. After the first two times, I learned how to program different things. Mostly just how to unlock the ship or blare the alarms so someone might hear," he said quietly.

While the others froze in horror, Spock merely schooled his expressions into a calm mask and nodded at James. "You are truly a gifted individual, James."

"Really?"

"Yes. Thank you for aiding us, James. We would not have recovered without your help."

James' smile could have lit up the entire Enterprise and Spock willingly returned it, almost shocking McCoy and Sulu to their spots.

Before anyone could give Spock grief about it, his communicator went off. "Spock here."

"Commander, have ze rebels been taken care of?" came Chekov's voice.

"Yes."

"Zen could you bring James down to ze transporter room? It has been fixed."

"We think," added Scotty, his voice sounding a little distant.

"Mister Chekov, how sure are you that the transporters have been repaired?"

"Fairly certain."

"Understood. We will be down momentarily," responded Spock.

"Can't believe he actually found the time to fix the transporters as well as getting the turbolift working," muttered Sulu.

All of them started to get to their feet, not noticing the panic that flashed across James' face.

James barreled into McCoy, just as he was getting up, and tackled him to the ground. Taken by surprise, McCoy struggled to prop up his elbows to look at the child sitting on his stomach.

"I'm sorry, Mister Bones! I didn't mean for Miss Uhura to get hurt. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. Please don't send me back home!" James cried out. "I don't wannna go back!"

Bones rubbed James' back comfortingly. "We're not sending you back to Iowa, kiddo. Promise. We will never let you go back there."

"Really?" For the first time since they've been with him, hope shone in James' eyes.

"Yeah, Jimbo," smiled Bones.

"Then can I stay here with you guys? I like you and no one's ever been this nice to me before, except for Sam and Uncle Chris, but I don't see them often anymore." He looked down at his scuffling feet. "Haven't seen Sam for awhile now."

Both Spock and Bones felt a rush of anger at Sam for leaving his brother all alone in Frank's hands, but at the same time, neither could blame him for doing so. Uhura and Sulu could only suppress the horror at the realization that Jim's brother had abandoned him when he was six. And Jim still came out stronger on the other end? They couldn't help but respect Jim far more now.

Spock knelt down beside James and McCoy. "I am sorry, little one, but it is not safe for a child to be onboard this ship. As you have seen, danger seems to follow us around. We cannot, on good conscience, bring an innocent child like yourself, along with us."

"Then where are you sending me off to?" asked James. The resigned tone made everyone's heart clinch.

"We're taking you to see Mister Chris," replied Uhura, sweeping over and bending down to ruffle his hair affectionately. "Is that okay with you?"

James nodded and let himself be maneuvered so that Bones could get up while holding him.

Bones adjusted his grip once. "Come on, kid, it's time to bring you back to your real home," he said as he walked to the turbolift. "You're going back to where you belong."

James rested his head on Bones' shoulder and smiled. "I like the sound of that."

Bones chuckled. "I like it too."

There was a small farewell party, composed of the Command crew, for James gathered in the transporter room. In the brief period they had James, they had seen a whole new side of Jim that didn't know about, and unwittingly, they had grown attached to the child. Despite showing signs of neglect and abuse, James was adorable when he felt that he was safe. And it meant the world to the Command crew that James actually felt safe around them. There was such a huge degree of trust in that small gesture that it made all the difference in the world.

Scotty sniffed as Bones hugged James one more time, saying his goodbyes, before gingerly placing him on the transporter pad.

"Ah'm gonna miss ya laddie."

"Me too," James said quietly.

Uhura stepped forward and hugged James tightly before stepping back. "You'll be fine, James. You're going to grow up to be the greatest man in the entire universe. Never forget that."

"Don't forget to practice your math, little one!" Chekov called out from the controls.

"You're the coolest kid I've ever met," Sulu added, "You're clever and extremely smart; don't be afraid to use it."

They all stepped back as to not interfere with the transporter.

"Farewell, James," said Spock. "I will see you again."

"Bye," whispered James.

Spock nodded at Chekov who pressed a button.

White lights swirled around James and his breathy "thank you" drifted into the room before his small form was completely engulfed. But the white lights never truly faded. They shifted and expanded, compensating for a larger body.

When they dissipated, James was gone, replaced by an older version of himself. He was lying supine on the transporter pad, unconscious, wearing the same clothes that James did, but the shirt and pants seemed to be two sizes too big. From a distance, the Command crew could see how emaciated the teenager was; bruises and lacerations covered his skin.

Sulu immediately ran forward to check on Kirk, jumping onto the transporter pad and kneeling down next to the prone figure. "Jesus," swore Sulu, "What the hell happened to him this time?"

Spock swung around, "Mister Chekov, did you not inform me that the transporter was fixed?"

"We did say 'maybe'," Scotty added.

"How old do you think he's about now?" Uhura asked Sulu, ignoring the conversation behind her.

"I'd say about thirteen? But it's hard to tell. He's as thin as freaking stick!"

"Thirteen?!" yelped McCoy, making Spock swing back around with something akin to fear in his eyes.

"Uh, yes?" replied Sulu, confused.

"Mister Sulu, immediately remove yourself from Jim's vicinity," Spock barked out.

"What?"

"Get away from him, you fucking moron!" yelled McCoy, but they were both too late.

Because that was when J.T. woke up.

And he was not pleased...

To be continued.

Chapter Text

VII

The Cat's Out of the Bag Part II

The earliest memory J.T. had of Tarsus was love and laughter – of people caring for him and the feeling of happiness for the first time in his young life. He had friends, he had family. He had lived, but that all changed with the famine.

He was always a bright kid; he was one of the first to realize there was something wrong with the crops while he worked in his aunt and uncle's farm. When he discovered that it was a fungus, he brought it to Governor Kodos' attention. He, along with several other farmers, were told to not worry and because Kodos had a plan.

The following day, Kodos gathered half of the colony – about four thousand people – to a stadium. He stood before everyone with a reassuring smile upon his face. He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming his people before him, and spoke into the microphone – his speech to be broadcasted through the entire colony.

J.T. would never forget the next words for the rest of his life.

"The revolution is successful. But survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered."

J.T. would never forget the next few minutes for the rest of his life.

There was utter chaos. Screams filled the air as gunfire sliced through the bodies of innocent, hard-working people. Friends, family, neighbors. All fell, one by one, lifeless to the ground.

His aunt had flung herself onto him, shielding him with her body. With tears leaking down her cheeks and her eyes dulling with each passing second, she hugged him tightly and whispered into his ear. "Survive…"

And then she was gone, along with everyone else that James had ever loved.

Guards wandered around, killing anyone else who tried to escape, but they failed to notice James hidden beneath the body of the one of the few people in this entire universe that truly cared for him.

Night fell and James crawled out from the mounds of bodies around him, barely clinging onto his sanity.

Nothing was the same again because that was the day that James learned that surviving was not the same as living and that he would do anything to survive.

That was the day J.T. was born, killing whatever was left of James.

The next months were a blur. Fighting tooth and nail for food; killing any soldiers who discovered him, and finding the first of his kids: Kevin Riley. Instantly, his purpose changed and he would do anything to keep Kev safe. Slowly, as he moved from safe place to safe place, his little band of kids grew. Some died, some lived. No matter how hard life became or how much guilt and burdens J.T. bore, the kids grounded him – humanized him and kept him sane; and in turn, J.T. gave all that he had so that his kids had the best shot to survive.

In the end, J.T. wasn't sure who saved who.

And that was all he knew.

When J.T.'s senses came back to him, the first thing he realized was that he was no longer surrounded by smell of blood or the sounds of frightened breathing. He wasn't lying in dark within a moldy, musty cave nor was he wearing the same rags as he remembered.

Instead, he felt bright, fluorescent lights over him; the ground beneath him was hard and smooth. Denim scratched his legs and the jacket was an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders. There were unfamiliar, adult voices talking around him. He kept up the act that he was still asleep, gathering as much data as he could – analyzing the level of danger these people posed to him and his kids. He didn't recognize any of the people around him and instantly, his heckles rose and he was prepared to do anything to protect his kids.

"Jesus," swore a man, "What the hell happened to him this time?"

An immaculate voice spoke next. "Mister Chekov, did you not inform me that the transporter was fixed?"

"We did say 'maybe'," added another man with a Scottish accent.

"How old do you think he's about now?" asked a woman.

"I'd say about thirteen?" responded the first man, "But it's hard to tell. He's as thin as freaking stick!"

"Thirteen?!" yelped someone with a Southern Terran accent. J.T. could easily pinpoint the fear and worry in that man's tone.

"Uh, yes?"

"Mister Sulu, immediately remove yourself from Jim's vicinity!"

"What?"

"Get away from him, you fucking moron!" yelled the Southern man.

J.T.'s instincts screamed at him when someone's hands froze a couple of inches away from his shoulders. In that instant, J.T.'s eyes snapped open and drew the knife in his boot that he had felt pressing against his ankle. He flipped the Asian man over in one swift movement and jerked him around to cover his front – using him as a human shield against the people before him.

He counted six people, including the guy he was threatening. The two closest to him both wore blue science uniforms of Starfleet. One had pointed ears and dark hair; the other was scruffy with brown hair. Behind them was a stunning young woman in a tight red Starfleet outfit and a nervous man in red. The teenager beside her had curly golden hair was wearing a matching gold uniform, as was the Asian man he had in a neck hold.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He didn't know them and he sure as hell wasn't on Tarsus anymore. So where the hell was he and where the fuck were his kids?!

Everything about this new place was a threat and he wouldn't stand for it.

He pressed the blade against his captive's neck, drawing blood.

"Who the fuck are all of you?" J.T. snarled.

The two redshirts took a step forward, but J.T. dug the blade deeper, making a steady, thin stream of blood drip down the man's bare skin.

"You take one more step and I'll fucking kill him. Don't think I won't." He glared at the people before him. "If this is Kodos' new form of torture, you can tell him to fuck off. I ain't telling him where my kids are!"

At this, everyone froze. J.T.'s blue-grey eyes were so cold, so wild that the Command crew actually felt fear. J.T. was unstable with no qualms about taking lives. But from his words, all their fear morphed from trepidation to shock.

Kodos? As in Kodos the Executioner? And then another dot connected. This time, Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, and Sulu were more than horrified at Jim's past. Jim was a Tarsus survivor?! This was something that they definitely did not expect from the happy go-lucky Captain, but now that they knew, little quirks started to make sense. Like the fact that Jim always forgot to eat unless Bones or someone else reminded him, or the fact that Jim hoarded rations in his room. There was always a massive chunk of his timeline that was missing – always fading out whenever he said he went off-planet and resuming when he returned.

Holy shit. How much pain and suffering did Jim go through before he got to Starfleet? And how did he come out the other end as 'normal' as he was and save the entire universe?

"J.T., we aren't your enemies," tried McCoy, raising his hands in surrender and speaking carefully, "We don't work for Kodos. He's long gone. This is going to be hard for you to believe, but you're about thirteen years in the future."

"Don't fuck with me. I'm not telling Kodos anything."

It had to be some sort of trick – he had probably been captured by Kodos and that fucking bastard wanted to mess with his head. Tarsus would hold onto him until he died, and he knew it.

"Doctor McCoy is not lying to you," said Spock, stepping forward.

Confusion crossed J.T.'s face as he eyed Spock, but it quickly morphed into a feral snarl. "A Vulcan? What the fuck are you doing on Tarsus?"

"J.T., you are no longer on Tarsus. You are onboard the flagship Enterprise and the stardate is 2259.04."

The fuck?! There was no way that was true, but even as that thought crossed his mind, J.T. glanced around his surroundings once again. The technology was far more advanced than he had ever seen, and that was saying something, considering that he had been in and out of starships since he was a kid. Unless this ship was a secret project commissioned by the fucking 'fleet, then J.T. had to consider the impossible, however improbable, to be true.

He nodded at Spock, but refusing to give in an inch. "Say that I believe you, despite how illogical this all seems," he said in fluent Vulcan, surprising all but McCoy, "Tell me what happened to bring me thirteen years into the future."

"You are currently the Captain of the Enterprise," Spock dutifully answered in Standard, "And you were on Earth to conduct business. However, Mister Chekov and Mister Scott had transfigured the transporters while you were away and when you were transported back on board, you did not rematerialize properly. In other words, it seems that you were reverted back to your current age due to the errors in modifications."

"And who are all these people? Are you also looking for my kids?"

"I assure you, J.T., we are not searching for them. These people are members of your Command crew, and they are your friends."

J.T. cocked his head. "Have you been with Starfleet for so long that you have forgotten how to speak your native tongue?"

"I have not," replied Spock in Vulcan before continuing in Standard, "However, I do not wish to keep the rest of your Command crew 'in the dark' concerning our conversation."

After a second of consideration, J.T. gave Spock a curt nod. "Fair enough. I believe you," he said. But the cold mistrust on his features did not waver. There was a certain murderous glint in his grayish eyes that never faded, even as he released Sulu, who scrambled to his feet.

Sulu stood a good few inches above the pre-pubescent teenager, and yet, he had felt unnatural strength bubbling in J.T.'s stronger form. His entire body, though weakened from starvation and horrifying conditions, had been so abruptly sharpened into a dangerous weapon and Sulu had no doubt that J.T. could have easily killed him without blinking an eye. He would have been completely at J.T.'s mercy – and that thought petrified him. How had Jim evolved from this?! How had he buried all this darkness and bloodlust to become the shining hope of the Federation? It just blew Sulu's mind.

"What? I just told you the same thing! And you believed him?" protested McCoy.

J.T. shrugged as he stepped forward, "He's a Vulcan. Vulcan's don't lie. Humans do."

He stopped at the edge of the raised transporter pad and stared down every single person before him. As soon as those icy, hard eyes settled on them, they felt as though they had been stripped down to their skeletons, leaving their soul out bare. It felt almost as if they had been violated by a single glance – as if they had been dissected and sized up in one moment.

Jim's bright blue eyes had always been so warm, so caring – a far cry from what was before them. Here was Jim at his lowest, at his most guarded and vulnerable. Here was someone who had broken and was merely a shell, carrying on in life with a single solitary purpose of surviving.

And it was terrifying.

"So," Jim cut the thick air easily, but leaving it just as cold as before. "I'm thirteen years in the future. Where's Kodos? Did Starfleet come in time to save Tarsus? I got in contact with this guy called Pike. He said that he'd save my kids."

McCoy flinched right as Spock was about to speak.

"Don't even bother telling me whatever lie you're about to spew me," he interrupted and pointed at McCoy. "That one's body language just gave him away."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Vulcans do not lie."

"True, but it doesn't mean you have to tell the truth. So Kodos isn't dead and Tarsus probably died off. Great." He stood, unsuccessfully hiding the wince that the movement caused.

"I'm sorry, Jim," said Sulu softly, coming up behind him and lightly resting his hand on J.T.'s shoulder in what he thought was a comforting manner.

J.T. reacted more on instinct than anything else. He shifted, taking one step back. Quicker than anyone but Spock could process, J.T. slammed his elbow into Sulu's stomach and as the pilot doubled over, J.T. grabbed his arm and flung him over his shoulder to land heavily onto the transporter pad. The loud thud was overshadowed by Sulu's groan, followed by a crack as J.T. slammed the knife down onto the pad. The blade had landed a centimeter away from Sulu's ear, just barely cutting into the cartilage and drawing blood.

"What the hell are you doing?!" screamed Uhura, "We're your friends!"

"You're not my friends. I don't have any," J.T. hissed back, turning quickly so that he kept all of them in clear view. "Let's get something clear right now. I don't know you, which makes you a threat. You keep away from me and you get to keep your limbs. Got it?!"

"Jim…" started Scotty.

"My name isn't Jim!" J.T. all but snarled.

Spock stepped in front of Scotty. "J.T., please calm yourself. We are not hostile."

"And I'm supposed to take your word for it?" J.T.'s entire body was almost vibrating with how tense he was, like he was a lion, ready to attack at any given moment. "I've been burned before. Even if you're a Vulcan, I don't trust any of you," he snarled.

Beside and slightly behind him, Sulu was lying fairly still on the pad. His eyes were open, but it looked as though he was having a hard time breathing. The blow to his stomach could have winded him, but McCoy wasn't sure if J.T. had struck higher. If that was the case, then he could have easily broken a rib and it could potentially pierce Sulu's lungs. The man would be drowning in his own blood if that happened.

At that thought, McCoy's entire demeanor changed. This had gotten out of hand. J.T. lived in chaos and the crew's trepidation of him only threw more fire on the oil. The more they feared him, the more cautious and dangerous J.T. would be. In the beginning, McCoy had been apprehensive, worried and a little bit scared, but now all fear was gone. Instead, determination took place and McCoy stomped forward. Like hell he was going to let his little brother do something that he would later regret, especially if he wasn't in the right mind at the time.

J.T. could see McCoy's mood change like a switch and was immediately ready for any attack that the doctor would throw at him. He growled and crouched slightly, his stance menacing. "Take another step and I will end you."

"I don't give a damn about your trust issues, kid. I'm a doctor, not a punching bag. Now, I'm going to make sure that Sulu's okay because I know from experience that you have unusually sharp elbows and ridiculous accuracy. If you can't handle that, then you better fucking deal with it."

"Leonard," warned Uhura, her voice weak, but she did nothing to stop him. She couldn't. Her own fear had her legs locked in a trembling mess that would not obey anything she told them.

McCoy ignored her and kept walking towards the downed Sulu. The second he was adjacent to J.T., the teenager attacked. J.T. threw a punch at the doctor's head. McCoy easily dodged, throwing up an arm to block the strike to his neck. With the other hand, McCoy grabbed onto J.T.'s wrist, right above his joint, and stepped into his space so that his back was pressed against J.T.'s front. Using J.T.'s body weight against him, McCoy jerked forward, throwing J.T. over his shoulder.

The teenager twisted in midair to land on his feet instead of the intended back. The simple movement threw McCoy off and J.T. pivoted quickly as the hold on his wrist broke off. Quickly and in rapid succession, J.T. tried to strike McCoy's vital points. An uppercut towards the nose, an attempt to poke out McCoy's eyes, followed by another blow towards the doctor's throat kept him on his toes.

McCoy had never been good at hand-to-hand combat until he became roommates with Jim. After a few bar fights gone wrong, Jim had personally taught McCoy a few moves and he had gotten fairly good. Enough to hold his ground against the average man, but J.T. was far from average. And McCoy was already at his limit.

J.T. was centimeters from taking out his eye when Spock sprang forward. The teenager sensed the new presence and whipped out a hand to attack. Spock easily caught J.T.'s wrist and grasped it tightly. In a similar move to what J.T. had used against McCoy, he turned and jammed his shoulder into J.T.'s chest, flipping the boy onto the ground, trapping him there with his own weight. J.T. roared in anger and tried to gouge out Spock's eyes with his blunt fingernails. Calmly, Spock shifted his head to avoid the outstretched hand, but he didn't react fast enough. A thin line of green blood appeared on his cheek, right below his left eye. Ignoring it, Spock reached forward to curl his fingers against the bundle of nerves located at the juncture between J.T.'s clavicle and neck.

Instantly, J.T. slumped against the ground, completely unconscious.

"Was that really necessary, you damn hobgoblin?" snapped McCoy, ignoring his own aches and pains to check on the teenager.

"If I had not done so, you would have lost your eye, Doctor," Spock informed. "Mister Sulu, are you alright?"

"Yeah," breathed Sulu, as he slowly got to his feet. His hand was pressed against his stomach and his right arm was held stiffly against his side. "He missed my ribs by centimeters."

Uhura came up to support Sulu, eying J.T. with wariness. "I can't believe that Kirk was like that at one point in his life. I mean, I can't blame him, but that was not what I expected."

Scotty looked down at J.T. with such sadness. "Ah never knew tha' Jim had such a tuff life. Never woulda expected it."

"Did you know, Commander?" asked Chekov. "Did you know zat ze Keptin was a Tarsus surviwor?"

"Yes."

"So he trusts you, but not us?"

"That is not true, Mister Chekov. I would have never learned of Jim's past if not for the Betazoid Ambassador. He would never have told me on his own free will…" he said softly.

"Damn it," swore McCoy as he frantically lifted J.T.'s shirt.

All eyes were on him, panic spreading across all their faces.

"What's wrong, Leonard?" asked Uhura.

As the cloth pulled away, they could all see the small puncture wound to the lower right quadrant of his abdomen. It was about three centimeters in diameter, but jagged along the edges. Blood bubbled out slowly with each breath that he took.

And then suddenly the wince that they saw made sense.

"Shit. It looks like someone took a screwdriver and just stabbed him," hissed Sulu.

Scotty was shaken. "'ow did he fight with tha'?"

"You'll be surprised at what people can do when they've been backed into a corner, especially those who are forced to live like a dog," McCoy replied, his tone sad. "Spock, can you carry him back to his quarters? We can't let the crew see him like this. He's old enough that people will recognize him now."

Spock nodded. "Nyota contact Admiral Pike for his advice on how to deal with J.T.; Mister Sulu, return to the Bridge. You have the conn and run interference in case the Captain or I are needed." He turned to glare at Chekov and Scotty as he started to leave. "The two of you will fix the transporter properly this time. Otherwise, it will not be me you will have to answer to."

"How is he, Doctor?" asked Spock as he watched McCoy run a tricoder over J.T. who was lying on Jim's bed. The door had been locked and only McCoy's medical override could open it.

McCoy had already run the dermal regenerator on his wound, healing it, and was now checking if he had missed anything.

He shook his head. "It's like we figured – he's extremely malnourished and dehydrated. He's covered head-to-toe in bruises and cuts too." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "What are we going to do with him? He's not James; it won't be as easy to win him over."

"I understand. J.T., as of this moment, is dangerous to himself as well as those onboard."

"What are we going to do about him? We can't exactly let him loose and let him terrorize the crew. And Uhura said that Pike can't help. J.T. apparently hates him for not getting to Tarsus in time."

"It is unfortunate that Christopher cannot be as helpful as he was when Jim was younger," mused Spock, thinking. "I propose that we keep him in his quarters until the transporters have been repaired."

McCoy looked down at J.T. "I hate to agree with you, but I hate to do that to Jim even more. He never did well being tied down."

"It is for his own safety, Doctor."

"I get that; doesn't mean I have to like it."

"If it is any consolation, I do not either. We will have to make sure J.T. stays away from anything technological."

"Agreed."

Spock cocked his head, pondering. "Doctor, J.T.'s breathing pattern has changed, indicating that he is awakening. Please take a step back."

McCoy instantly obeyed and backed up against the wall so that there were a few feet of distance between him and his supposedly best friend. Spock approached the bed, standing at guard.

J.T.'s first words were an incoherent babble of a string of curse words followed by an angry groan. He turned over onto his side, glaring murderously at Spock. "You Vulcan pinched me!"

"You did not give me any choice, J.T."

"Fuck you."

"J.T., I will reiterate: we are not your enemies. We do not have any connections with Governor Kodos or Tarsus IV itself."

J.T. let out a frustrated growl and sat up, glancing at McCoy and easily reading his wariness. "You know that you can't keep me locked up in here for long."

"You are welcome to try to escape, but I can assure you that you cannot defeat me in combat, young one," replied Spock, rising to his full height.

"I can take that one down," said J.T., pointing at McCoy, "And I know that you care for him, so you really think you can win?"

McCoy spluttered to life. "Firstly, that's horrifying, and secondly, I'm armed with hyposprays that are filled with sedatives that can take down an elephant. And I know that you hate these things. I'd like to see you try anything against me now."

At the sight of the hypospray that McCoy was brandishing, J.T. failed to hide a cringe. He frowned and crossed his arms. While he couldn't fight and win the two of them, he still didn't believe in no-win scenarios. There had to be some way that he could get out and find a way back to his kids.

He eyed McCoy for a second longer as a plan began forming.

J.T. purposefully relaxed the tension in his body. "Fine, so it looks like I'm stuck here for the time being. What do you want from me?"

"Nothing, kid. Didn't we say that already?" sighed McCoy, his own shoulders sagging in relief as J.T. apparently gave in.

"People always want something. Especially when it comes to me." He slowly inched towards the edge of the bed and rested his feet on the ground. He eyed Spock and McCoy carefully as he did so, but neither made a move to stop him. In fact, none of them suspected anything.

McCoy just looked at the Vulcan. "Spock?"

The unspoken request was easily heard by Spock. "We do not wish anything of you, J.T., merely your safety," he repeated, knowing full well that J.T. was more inclined to listen to him. "We mean you no harm."

J.T. shrugged. "In that case, I have a few questions for you. What the hell happened to the transporters that made it 'de-age' me?"

"We are not clear on the circumstances; however, from what I can gather, Mister Chekov and Mister Scott were attempting to reconfigure the transporter to rematerialize in a faster pace. After the first modification, you were beamed aboard as a six-year-old child. The two proceeded to adjust the program and you were returned in your current state."

"And you haven't seen this program at all?"

"I have not."

"You didn't think to check over it yourself and find out what the issue is? Then maybe I wouldn't have been brought to this god forsaken place."

"Yeah, and Tarsus is so much better," snorted McCoy.

"At least in Tarsus, I know that everyone's out to kill you. I'm prepared for that, but here? I'm a flashing target in fucking neon lights!"

"We're not out to kill you, kid! We're here to help you!" McCoy shouted, taking a step closer to J.T. in his frustration.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

McCoy threw his hands up in the air. "I give up. He's even more stubborn than Jim ever was!"

In that one second, J.T. sprang forward, leaping off the ground like a cheetah, and attacked McCoy. He punched McCoy hard in the nose, feeling satisfaction when he heard the bone snap. McCoy went down in with a cry, blood spurting from his nose even as he pressed his hands against it.

Spock was there in an instant, his hands reaching out to subdue the teenager, but J.T. was prepared for him this time. As soon as Spock's warm hand grabbed his left wrist, J.T. slammed the stolen hypospray against Spock's forearm – hard enough that it drew blood. There was a hiss as J.T. injected the sedatives straight into Spock's bloodstream.

Spock's eyes widened as the world around him swirled unsettlingly and he stared dumbly at J.T.'s growing smirk.

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, fuck you," growled J.T., and he shoved roughly against Spock's chest, making him fall hard on his butt, dazed.

Without hesitating, he ran towards the door and jerked out the keypad. Wires sparked as he pulled them apart and twisted a few together. There was a click and the door slid open. J.T. didn't even bother to give McCoy any parting words before he turned and disappeared from view.

"Fuck…" panted McCoy as he crawled towards Spock, still holding his bleeding nose. "You okay?"

Spock just blinked at him.

"Fuckin' useless Bulcan," sniffed McCoy as he felt up Spock for his communicator. "McCoy to Uhura."

"Uhura here."

"Kid got loose. Broke my godd'am nose."

"What?! What happened to Spock?!"

"Drugg'd. Find 'im, Uhura. An' call Riley."

"Okay, got it. What are you going to do?"

"Fix my godd'am nose an' wake duh damn hobgoblin!"

McCoy angrily hung up on Uhura and gingerly touched his broken bone. He slumped down next to Spock, who had started drooling. McCoy's face would have scrunched up in disgust if he could and sighed. "Godd'am it…I'm way too old for dis."

J.T. sprinted through the pristine white walls, completely ignoring the looks of the Redshirts passing by him. He was sure that he had gotten to the right floor to reach the transporter room, but why the hell couldn't he find it? If the goddamn broken thing had brought him here, it had to take him back to Tarsus.

His footsteps faltered for a split second. He wanted to go back to Tarsus?! For all he knew, he was free from the fear of Kodos, of starvation and struggling to survive day by day. This ship was clean and away from any of the horrors that he had seen on Tarsus. It didn't reek of death and blood and he could finally be free. But he thought of little Kev, Tom, and the others. He couldn't leave his kids behind. He had no one left – no one to care whether or not he returned home, but they did. They had aunts and uncles, sisters and brothers, all over the universe who wanted them to be safe – to be happy in a way that J.T. would never be.

He had to go back – for them. He didn't have a choice.

His feet started picking up pace again and he skidded around a corner, only to run smack into someone. Hands reached out to steady him and he instantly jerked away, his blue-grey eyes looking suspiciously at another Redshirt, who was a few inches taller than him. But this young man was familiar. The brown hair swept back and those dimpled cheeks – he had seen them before, but where?

The man's jaw dropped open and his eyes widened in surprise. "J.T.?!" he gasped.

"Who the fuck are you?!" J.T. snarled back.

"J.T., it's me! It's Kev!"

"Kev?" And then the lines connected. He was thirteen years into the future – of course someone like Kev had grown up! A rare smile broke out onto J.T.'s face and even tears started forming in his eyes. "Oh my god. You made it, Kev! You made it!"

Kev instantly wrapped his arms around J.T.'s body, hugging him as if his life depended on it. "Thanks to you, J.T. Thanks to you."

When they broke apart, Riley looked at J.T. from head-to-toe. The teenager was exactly as he remembered – just as fierce and protective as before. Even with his waning health, he was always full of strength and power. And Kevin was grateful for every bit of it.

Riley felt as though he should be more worried about the fact that seeing J.T. – a ghost of the past – appear before him didn't faze him in the slightest, but he had bigger concerns. Clearly, J.T. didn't remember anything from his time as a Captain, which meant that his identity had to be hidden. Jim had never wanted anyone to know his status as a Tarsus survivor, and Riley wanted to respect it.

"What are you doing here, J.T.?" Kevin asked, as he lightly grabbed J.T.'s arm and started walking.

J.T. flinched at the touch, but allowed himself to be led away. "Some transporter malfunction. Got de-aged, apparently. What are you doing as a dog of the 'fleet, Kev?"

"I followed a certain man to the stars."

"Yeah? Who?"

Amusement crinkled the corners of Kevin's eyes. "You, J.T."

"Seriously? I actually joined Starfleet?! You've got to be fucking kidding me. Starfleet fucked up all our lives! Why the hell would I do something as moronic as join them?"

"You didn't just join them, J.T., you became the hero of the Federation and the youngest Captain in the history of Starfleet."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope. Someone dared you and you, in your usual fashion, just broke all the precedents in the three years that you were at the Academy. You're pretty much a legend now, J.T."

"And you thought it would be a good idea to follow some crazy idiot to space?"

"If it's you, it's always a good idea. Hang on." Kevin punched in a code for the door before them and stepped in, leaving J.T. standing awkwardly by the entrance. Within a few seconds, Kevin reappeared with a baseball hat and shoved it onto J.T.'s head.

"What's this for, Kev?" J.T. asked, his eyes searching the hallway for any potential threats.

"Just a precaution."

"This is a little bit weird."

"What, the hat?"

"No, you taking care of me when I should be taking care of you."

Kevin smiled warmly. "You gave everything to take care of me once, J.T., and you still do everything you can for me thirteen years into the future. It's about time I returned the favor, don't you think?"

J.T. didn't really know how to handle that. It wasn't as if he did anything so that people would owe him. He just didn't like to see children suffer as he did.

Riley seemed to understand and changed the subject. "Come on. Let's go find Commander Spock. He'll need to know where you are," he said as he headed towards the Bridge.

J.T. trailed after him. "Spock? As in the Vulcan?"

"Have you met him?"

"He's incapacitated right now," he shrugged.

"What?!" Riley swung back around with shock in his eyes.

At that moment, his communicator went off. Kevin snapped it open, even as he kept his eyes on J.T. "Riley here."

"It's Uhura. Something's happened and Kirk got de-aged to J.T. and we need to you to find him and calm him down before he hurts anyone else."

"Uh, he's pretty calm now."

"What?"

"I'm looking at him right now and he seems fine."

J.T. pointed at his stomach.

"Oh, but he's hungry."

"He just took down Spock and broke McCoy's nose, and he's hungry?!"

J.T. nodded.

"Yeah," responded Riley, exasperation kicking in. Leave it to Jim to rustle up a whirlwind of fiasco in just a few short hours (or at least he hoped hours, because minutes would really be pushing it). "I'm going to take him to the mess hall and get some food."

"Seriously?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Fine, just keep him out of trouble, okay? Don't let him hurt himself anymore."

"Understood. Riley out." He clicked his communicator shut and saw J.T. frowning at him.

"What did she mean hurt myself? I'm not fucking stupid enough to injure myself."

"It's just that you really care for this crew when you're Captain, J.T., and she's worried that when you get back to normal, you might blame yourself for this. And knowing you, that's probably what's going to happen," sighed Riley.

At this, J.T. quieted.

"What's up, J.T.?"

"Do you want me back? As your Captain, that is."

"Well, you can't stay de-aged forever, J.T."

So, J.T. was obsolete. He wasn't needed anymore. He wasn't sure about his other kids, but at least Kev had made it. And it seemed like he was happy with the life he had now – almost as if the nightmare that was Tarsus didn't exist.

J.T. had fulfilled the mission that he had started in Tarsus.

Suddenly, J.T. had no idea what to do with himself. He had spent his entire life struggling, surviving. When Kodos made his decree, J.T. coped with the loss of all the happiness he had ever known by throwing himself into saving his kids, but now that that was taken away from him, what was he supposed to do now?

Kev had said that his future self took care of him. That his future self was a hero. He didn't want to be one, but J.T.'s purpose had come to an end.

His shoulders sagged in resignation. Kev was safe, Tarsus was gone, and Kodos was no longer a threat. He didn't need to be here anymore. It was time to disappear.

At least this time, he'd actually get the chance to say goodbye.

"Hey, Kev? Where's the transporter room?"

"It's over there."

Kevin started to lead J.T., but the teenager shook his head, sadness filling his eyes, though that remained unnoticed by the Ensign. He took off the hat and handed it back to Kevin. "I think I got it. Don't you have things to do?"

"Yeah, but they can wait."

"It's fine. Go do your job, Kev. I'll just go find Spock and the others."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go, Kev. I'm real proud of ya, kid."

Kevin laughed, "You're the kid now, J.T. I'll come by and see you as soon as I'm done with my shift. I'll see you later!" He waved jauntily and took off at a brisk pace down the other direction.

"Yeah…see you later…" J.T. breathed. "Bye, Kev."

He turned his back on 'his kid' and started to walk towards the transporter room, moving forward with each step. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath before he entered.

To his surprise, Spock and McCoy were already there. Spock was hovering over the shoulders of the Scottish guy and the teenager with curly hair – Scotty and Chekov, he was sure. McCoy was standing close, but he wasn't looking at the screen like the other three was. His broken nose had been mended and Spock seemed pretty steady on his feet. McCoy seemed to be a damn good doctor then, to have worked so fast.

No one had noticed him, so J.T. cleared his throat. All eyes looked up to see him standing there awkwardly. J.T. mentally prepared himself for entrapment or even physical retribution for what he had done. He had to force down the urge to fight and scratch out their eyes – he was there to return someone important to Kev, and he wasn't about to ruin it because he couldn't control himself.

"J.T.," Spock greeted, his voice a little slower than before.

"Vulcan. Doctor," J.T. returned.

"Uhura said that you met with Riley. Guess you don't see us as threats anymore?" asked McCoy, crossing his arms.

"Nope, still want to kick you in the crotch, but Kev needs the Captain back, so I'm here to offer my help."

Spock considered him. "Do you believe that you can resolve the programming issue?"

"Don't know," J.T. shrugged, "But I bet you that if I took a look at it, I can fix it up easily."

"Is this a ploy for you to escape again? You are onboard a starship. There is nowhere for you to go."

"I'm not trying to run. Look, I'm not the type of person to stand around and do nothing. And I'm definitely not sitting around all pretty for your stupid engineers to mess this shit up again."

Spock looked dubious.

J.T. rolled his eyes – a habit that Jim seemed have as well, "I'll make you a deal. You let me take a look at the program and if I can't fix it, chain me up and throw me into the brig."

"We're not going to chain you up," groaned McCoy.

J.T. raised an eyebrow, saying 'you serious?' wordlessly.

"I believe he is merely using a figure of speech, Doctor," said Spock, his lips quirked into a small smirk.

"You've got to be kidding me. A Vulcan is giving me a lecture on colloquialisms? The next thing you know, the universe is going to be ruled by pitchforks and horns."

"You guys clearly have some unresolved issues to work out," said J.T., "But why don't we get me back to normal first so I don't have to deal with this shit anymore."

"I second that," Spock agreed. "Doctor McCoy, please inform the others."

McCoy nodded as J.T. walked over to them.

"Come on. Let's get this whole entire fiasco over with."

And not for the first time, Spock couldn't help but agree.

When Uhura and Sulu entered the transporter room just a few minutes later, they all stared at J.T. with wariness. That, J.T. had expected, but he was surprised that he couldn't see hatred or anger within their expressions.

"Leonard says you're going to try your hand at the transporters?" Uhura asked tentatively.

"Yeah," came his curt answer.

"Can I ask why?"

"It's clear you all don't want me here and I don't want to be here either. So let me take a look at your fucking transporter system and everything will go back to normal, alright"

With that, he roughly shoved Chekov aside, scrolling through the program. After a few minutes of tense silence, J.T. changed a few things and with that, he walked calmly back towards the pad.

"I'm really curious at whether or not you're actually engineers, because you made a stupid math error halfway through the program. And then you messed up a section regarding relativity," J.T. sneered.

Chekov and Scotty both looked sheepish while the others fell silent again, struggling to overlap J.T. with the Jim that they knew and loved. It was almost impossible.

"Well, what are you waiting for? I don't want to be here, you don't want me here. Let's just get this over with," J.T. called out, already standing on the transporter pad.

"Why are you in such a hurry to remove yourself? If one saw it in a different manner, one could say that you are committing some sort of suicide," said Spock.

J.T. shrugged. "You said Tarsus is gone. Winona's not going to want me back and I sure as hell am not going back to Frank. Future me is supposed to be this Captain, right? Sounds better than anything I have waiting for me. And future me can protect Kev, so if erasing me is what it takes, then I'm more than happy to oblige."

Well, what could you say to that?

Spock gave in with some reluctance and nodded at J.T. "If that is what you desire, then we shall comply. However, before you go, I would like to tell you something that may comfort you."

"Doubt it," snorted J.T. "Come on, stop lagging."

"J.T.," Spock said, stopping a few steps before him, "Your kids do make it."

For a brief second, the hardened, cold mask that J.T. had been wearing broke and relief spilled out. It was comforting to see that buried deep inside him, protected by all the darkness and anger that surrounded him, was the same golden, caring heart that Jim had been so famous for.

"Thank you," J.T. said in Vulcan. "Now let's get your friend back."

Jim was fairly confused at where he was at the moment. He wasn't sure if he was upright or upside down. Everything was swirling around him in a nauseating manner. It was dark though – that much he was aware of – and he hurt. His muscles ached and were sore in a way that he hadn't felt in years. In fact, he hadn't felt this sort of pain since puberty.

Flashes of memories of Winona and Frank flitted in; of Tarsus and his kids. Of Pike saving him, failing him, and saving him again. Of the Enterprise and the warmth that always enveloped him when he was aboard her. Words drifted in and out of his consciousness; some voices he recognized – Kodos, Frank, Pike, Spock, and even Bones – others were familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

Slowly, he managed to filter through what were memories and what was reality. He honed in on the voices in his immediate vicinity and used them to pull him out of whatever abyss he was floating in.

He groaned, forcing his eyes open. He rubbed his face as he gingerly sat up. Instincts kicked in and he instantly categorized where he was. The familiar sight of the transporter room was a good thing – at least he hadn't been drugged and dragged off to God knows where (it wouldn't be the first time, sadly enough) – but the concerned expressions of Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty were worrisome.

"Oh, please don't tell me that I did something insanely crazy and slept with some diplomat's wife…" he groaned. "Bones, why the fuck do I feel like I went through some sort of growth spurt?"

They all visibly cringed, and suddenly, all the memories came floating back, stealing his breath away. There was pressure building in his chest, threatening to crush his lungs and stomach from the inside out. His hands started to shake and cold sweat started to cover his brow. And then he had a terrifying realization.

They all knew. They knew.

And fuck was that more than he could deal with right now.

"I gotta go," he rushed, meaning to get to his feet and run out, but his muscles protested.

He almost face-planted onto the ground if Bones didn't catch him in time. "Ow, ow, ow! Fuck me. This is why I hated puberty."

Bones gave him a strained smile. "You okay, Jim?"

It was a loaded question, and he thought about it.

He glanced around, searching expressions and body language. There was no sign of pity, no disgust or derision – just simply concern and more love than Jim could probably handle. These people were nothing like Winona, Frank, or Sam. They weren't Kodos or any of his soldiers. They were his friends – his family. They would never abandon him; they would never hurt his heavily shielded heart, even if he had hurt them.

The cat was already out of the bag. He trusted them with his life and he knew that it was time to trust them with his secrets, but with everything that had happened, he couldn't do it now. All he wanted to do was take a long hot shower and dissolve, if it was possible.

He straightened, a cold look spreading across his face as he buried all of his impending panic deep within himself. "Spock, I find that I am emotionally compromised and I hand over my command to you for the time being. The rest of you, keep your questions to yourself for now."

He was almost out the door when Uhura called out. "Wait!"

They could all see him flinch. "Yes?" he turned slightly to face her. He didn't even bother to hide the weariness on his face and he could see Uhura hesitate at the sight of it.

"Why…why did you go on-planet? Pike wouldn't tell us anything."

He paused and turned back around, not willing to face them. "Winona died. I was attending her funeral."

And then he was gone, leaving that bombshell to shatter any semblance of calmness left.

It was three days before anyone saw Jim's shadow, let alone his person. Every single member of his Command crew had sought him out at least once, but they could never find him. The computer didn't even register his whereabouts – no doubt caused by Jim's amazing hacking skills. Not even Chekov or Scotty could reverse it, though that may have had more to do with their reluctance than their actual abilities.

The only ones that weren't actively looking for Jim were Spock and McCoy. In fact, McCoy seemed to have disappeared with Jim as well. He did pop up a few times to talk to Spock in whispering tones, only to vanish again. In between those moments, Spock was tense and more prone to logically ripping poor ensigns apart. With all that he knew, he felt illogical worry grow with each passing second. If McCoy didn't keep him update on Jim, Spock would have torn the entire ship apart to make sure that Jim's memories weren't destroying him again.

But at the end of those three days – almost close to four – Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and Spock's communicators rang around 0300. Luckily (or perhaps it was planned by Jim), all of them had the Beta shift.

A simple message from Jim was left: "My quarters in ten."

Needless to say, they were all in front of Jim's door in seven minutes. When Chekov knocked, McCoy was the one to open it. The gruff doctor looked rough; lines were drawn in from tiredness, but he did look slightly happy to see them.

"Doctor," greeted Spock.

McCoy merely nodded in acknowledgement and moved aside so that they could file in. Before them was their elusive Captain.

Jim was sitting on the edge of his bed, facing them. The lights were set dimly, but even then, they could all see the paleness of their friend and the dark circles under his eyes. Clearly, he hadn't slept well, if any, in the past three days.

Quietly, Jim spread out a hand, signaling them to take a seat. They obeyed, taking a spot around him on the floor. Only Spock remained standing, leaning against the closest wall. Bones shuffled past the crew and sat next to Jim, his solid form acting as an anchor – both comforting and supportive.

Jim leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his thighs as he considered each and every person in front of him.

"I'm sorry."

All heads (except for Bones and Spock) snapped up in confusion.

"What for, laddie?" frowned Scotty.

"Well, I did attack you guys, so sorry for that. Especially you, Sulu. Sorry I went ape-shit crazy on you."

"No harm, no foul," Sulu replied.

"That's it? Bones made me grovel at his feet for forgiveness!"

"You broke my nose!"

"And I did say sorry for that!" protested Jim, bumping playfully into his best friend.

It was clear that Jim had blamed himself and would have most certainly groveled at McCoy's feet if it was necessary, but McCoy never would have let that happen. The two had probably brought out a bottle of expensive whiskey and got wasted, putting all hurts behind them. Well, at least that was what the crew thought they did. They never were really sure how things worked between McCoy and Jim, but they knew to never take their close friendship for granted.

If it wasn't for McCoy, they were pretty sure that Jim never would have called them here.

"Why don't you just get on with it, Jim?" McCoy said gruffly.

"Fine, fine." Jim ran his fingers through his hair and looked at his friends. "There's really no easy way to start this, so I'm just going to be direct. Yes, I was abused and neglected as a kid. Yes, I am one of the Tarsus Nine. It all sucked, but I'm over it now. Sorry for disappearing on you for so long before you got a chance to fill in all the holes. I needed to deal with you guys finding out."

"Were you ever planning to tell us?" asked Uhura, her voice soft.

"No, but can you really blame me? It's not exactly something I like to talk about. I mean, I knew sooner or later that you guys would find out, so I'm sorry that you guys found out this way. It's not the easiest thing to stomach." Jim sighed. "Look, I get that it might be confusing and I'm willing to clarify things."

"Are you sure? You're okay with that?" Sulu questioned.

"It's like what I told Spock during the whole entire Betazoid Ambassador fiasco: I've already dealt with my past, you haven't. So the question isn't whether or not I'm okay, it's if you're okay. It's a lot of information to soak in and I know there're a lot of gaps, so seriously, ask away."

When they hesitated, Jim rolled his eyes. "I won't answer anything if I'm not comfortable with it, don't worry. Who wants to start first?"

Chekov was the brave soul that threw out the first question. "I did not know you had a brother."

"Yeah, an older brother by four years: Sam."

"The kid you said that you hadn't seen him for awhile," said Sulu, "What does that mean?"

"Sam ran away from home when I had just turned six. He couldn't handle Frank anymore."

"He left you alone with Frank?"

"He was ten years old. He would've barely been able to take care of himself, let alone a six-year-old kid who had a knack of getting into trouble."

"And have you been in touch with your brother?" Spock asked.

"Not really. He did go back home when Winona divorced Frank, but that was when I was on Tarsus. I came back and saw them happy together and I just couldn't take it, so I took off. After the Narada, he sent me a few messages saying how proud he was of me, but that's about it. The last message I got was him telling me that Winona had died from a disease."

Scotty scratched his head. "Why do ya always call her Winona? Ain't she your mother?"

This, Jim tensed at. "She didn't allow me to call her mother or any variant of it. Apparently, I looked too much like my dad and she couldn't stand to look at me. Her way of dealing was to pretend I didn't exist or that I wasn't hers."

Uhura shifted a bit to fold her long legs beneath her elegantly. "How are you handling her death, Kirk?"

"I don't know. It hasn't really hit me yet. I mean, I don't really know how to mourn for someone who I wasn't allowed to even look at. But she was my mother. So I guess I'm dealing." Bones bumped him gently, and he cleared his throat and amended his statement. "Somewhat."

"What did Frank do to you?" Sulu almost whispered.

Jim gave him a dark, strained smile. "That I won't answer."

Chekov immediately went into a different direction. "So you're fluent in Vulcan as vell, Keptin? How many other languages can you speak?"

"How did you learn Vulcan?" Spock added, "You speak well with no accent. It is quite impressive for a human."

"You remember Hoshi Sato – the famous linguist?"

Uhura nodded her head vigorously, "Of course! She was fluent in more than forty languages and inspiration to communication officers throughout Starfleet!"

"Yeah, that's the one. I met her when I was on Tarsus. She taught me quite a bit, including Vulcan. As for the other languages, you guys know about Russian, Spanish, and now Vulcan. I know more, but it's no fun if I tell you them all now."

"Vhy did you get sent to Tarsus?"

"That's actually kind of a funny story. I got fed up with Frank and finally picked up the guts to retaliate, so I uh…hotwired his antique car and drove it off the cliff," replied Jim with a sheepish look that immediately sobered, "I got caught by the authorities and Frank's abuse and Winona's neglect came out into the open. I was shipped off to the next relative, who happened to be my aunt living on Tarsus."

Spock was not the only one who didn't know this part of the story. "What happened to your aunt?" he questioned.

"She died protecting me when Kodos did his 'purge'. She told me to survive with her last breath. So I did. Found a few kids here and there and kept them safe and alive. They were my responsibility, my kids, until Starfleet came and sent them back to whatever homes or families they had left."

"You sound angry," Chekov frowned, confused.

"Believe me, I was angry. My entire purpose for surviving on Tarsus was ripped away from me by people who were inept and arrived at Tarsus far too late to save hundreds and thousands of lives. I remember thinking that Starfleet could go fuck themselves for all I cared, so I wiped my records clean from their databases and became a ghost, never staying in one place for too long. Spent years wandering around Earth, dealing and suppressing."

"And yet you're the 'golden boy' of the Starfleet now," grinned Sulu.

"Well, Pike dared me, and I never turn down dares. It's a character flaw that I'm not working on," shrugged Jim. He looked at them carefully, and though he was completely reluctant, he knew he had to prod towards the one thing he didn't want to talk about – otherwise they would never get past James or J.T. to see him. "None of you have asked that one question I know you're all itching to scream out. Someone be brave and just throw it out there."

Uhura cleared her throat and mentally braced herself. When she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle, as if she were coaxing a child. "What you went through – it would have broken anyone. How are you still…you?"

A glint of steel had entered Jim's eyes and his expressions were tightening; it was clear to everyone that Jim's emotional state had deteriorated, but he persevered to answer his family's questions.

"When I was on Tarsus, my aunt told me that it didn't matter how many times you get knocked down – it mattered how many times you get back up, and only then will you find the strength to overcome anything. I've lived by that for as long as I can remember. And I'm not the type of person to just give up when things get hard. I don't believe in no-win scenarios."

"Speaking of which…" McCoy grinned, wiggling an eyebrow at Sulu. Though confused at first, Sulu understood McCoy's intentions of changing the subject completely. They would all do anything to erase the coldness that was creeping onto Jim's face.

Jim was immediately on guard, the abrupt change of topic surprising him right out of his dark mood. "What's with that smile? I don't think I like that smile, Bones. Stop that. Stop that right now."

"Who wants to have the honor?" smirked Sulu.

"Oh, please let it be me!" exclaimed Chekov.

"Ever heard of 'ladies go first'?" Uhura slid in elegantly.

Jim groaned, "Why do I feel like I'm not going to like this?"

"Don't worry, Jim, you won't," chuckled Bones.

"Spock, want to explain?" Jim looked at Spock.

"Doctor McCoy is referring to a bet that was placed when you were de-aged."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "A bet?"

"Genius versus genius," Sulu said, clasping his hand on Chekov's shoulder.

"Chekov is going to compete with Spock in a game of brains?" Jim's eyes lit up. "This, I gotta see."

McCoy laughed loudly, "Spock isn't competing, Jim."

"Then who…?" Jim's voice trailed off and his blue eyes widened in shock. "Oh, hell no!"

"Please tell me why I'm doing here again?" whined Jim. "I can't believe you sold me out like this, Bones! I feel like a cheap whore!"

"I assure you, Jim, that the amount of sleeping partners that you may have had has nothing to do with your current situation," replied Spock, raising his voice a little bit to speak over McCoy's sniggers.

"And you, Spock! Traitor! I can't believe you got roped into this too! I have a reputation to maintain! I will not be known as a math nerd!"

"But you are one, Jim."

"I hate you both. I ought to throw you two into the brig!"

"Keptin, are you ready?" Chekov asked as he came up to him.

The teenager had a smile on his face and was almost bouncing on his toes in anticipation. Behind him, two large whiteboards had been set up in the observation deck – one for each of them. Sulu and Scotty were both discussing loudly about who was going to win while Uhura was standing by with a sly smile on her face.

"I don't want to do this. I really don't want to do this," pleaded Jim.

"Too bad, Jim. I got a lot of money riding on this, so you better win, or I will make your life miserable."

"That's comforting, Bones."

"Oh, and Spock bet on you too. Don't know what the pointy-eared bastard will do to you if you lose, but I don't think you'd want to find out."

"I hate you all."

"Come on, Keptin." Chekov grasped Jim's arm and started dragging him towards the boards.

Jim went reluctantly, protesting the whole way, but at least he let himself be pulled. They all knew what Jim was capable of and the fact that he was amusing Chekov made them feel relief that they weren't actually forcing him against his will.

"You ready to get your ass kicked, Kirk?" grinned Sulu.

Jim gave him an even look. "Are you daring me, Sulu? Because you know that I don't back down from dares."

Sulu pulled himself to his full height. "What if I am?"

"Oh, I'm so going to make you regret this. Let's go, Chekov. Let's see what you're made of!"

McCoy just shook his head, thinking that it was way too easy to bait his best friend.

Spock stepped in between the two boards, standing his hands in front of him as he held a PADD. "Try to be the first to finish, Jim." He swiped the screen and instantly, an equation projected onto the whiteboard:

If p(x) = a0 + a1x + … + amx^m is a polynomial with real coefficients ai then set (p(x)) = a02 + a12+ … + am^2.Let f(x) = 3x2 + 7x +2. Find a polynomial g(x) with real coefficients such that: (i) g(0) = 1, and, (ii) (f(x)n) = (g(x)n), for every integer n1.

Jim and Chekov immediately started scribbling frantically. Chekov muttered to himself as he worked through the problem.

"Keep your thoughts to yourself, Chekov!" yelled Jim in Russian, even as his eyes scanned his board and his work.

Chekov just laughed and kept on doing his math.

Behind them, everyone (except for Spock) started cheering for their perspective bets. Well, McCoy was threatening in a playful manner. No one but Spock understood any of the mathematical work that the two were writing.

And then suddenly, both yelled out in triumph, throwing down their markers and raising their hands. They had finished at the same time. They had the same answer of: 6x^2 + 5x + 1.

"Is that right, Spock?" asked Sulu as all of them.

"Yes, it is correct," responded Spock.

"Who finished first?!" exclaimed Uhura.

"It seems that they both reached the correct solution at the same time. As such, I declare this match a tie."

McCoy frowned. "Does that mean the bet's off?"

"It means that no credits will exchange hands."

"Damn it, Jim! I told you to win!"

Jim shrugged, stepping away from the board, but not before ruffling Chekov's hair proudly, "That was the best I could do. Now if any of this leaves this room, I will hurt you, do you understand me?"

"Tha's a bit overkill, ain't it, Jim?" said Scotty.

"Not at all. I have a reputation to uphold and I like being known as the most charming playboy in the entire Federation. Can't have enemies know that behind all this awesomeness is a secret nerd," grinned Jim, "Are we done here? Everyone happy?"

"No," muttered McCoy.

"Don't be such a sourpuss, Bones. At least you didn't lose," laughed Jim as he clapped Bones on the shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and pretend that this never happened. Good job, Chekov. The rest of you, you all suck. See ya!"

Jauntily, he left the observation deck. He sensed someone following him and he turned as soon as he boarded the turbolift to see Spock right behind him.

"Yes, Spock?"

There was a twinkle in the Vulcan's brown eyes. "I know what you did, Jim."

"What are you talking about?" Jim asked, his eyes wide with innocence.

"I know that you purposely waited to complete the problem at the same time as Mister Chekov. You would have finished 11.28 seconds before Mister Chekov if you had not slowed your writing speed."

"Oh that?" Jim's face scrunched up a little. "I can't exactly win, now can I? People will talk if they learn that I'm good at math. Just don't tell Chekov."

"I assure you, I won't, Jim."

Jim sighed in relief. "Thank god."

The doors started to close and Spock couldn't help to have the last word. "However, I will inform Doctor McCoy of the fact that he could have won a hundred credits."

"What?! No! Spock, don't you dare do that! He'll kill me!" yelped Jim, but he was too late to say anything further as the lift started to bring him to his floor.

Spock allowed himself a victorious smile as he headed back to the observation deck. It was a bit mean, but he had also lost the chance of winning a hundred credits from Nyota.

That ingenious idiot was going to pay, and Spock was really looking forward to it.

(A day later, Jim was found duck-taped to the ceiling. Soon after, Jim retaliated by blowing up a giant holograph of McCoy cuddling with James, a picture that Scotty had taken, and plastering it all over the Enterprise. Spock, on the other hand, came out onto the Bridge with his eyebrows shaved off.

Needless to say, an enormous prank war broke out between Jim and his two best friends. Many people were roped in – Scotty had redirected all of the cold water to McCoy's sonic shower; Nyota and Chekov hacked Spock's computer to have meowing cats pop up all over the screen; Sulu reconfigured Jim's replicator to only spit out dresses instead of his usual pants and shirt.

Things only died down when someone – no one was sure who – replaced Jim's usual meaty hamburger with tofu, causing him to go into anaphylactic shock. No one was surprised that Jim ended up being allergic to soybeans – the man was allergic to so many things – but no one was laughing when he went into respiratory arrest.

Apologies were made left and right at Jim's bedside and all prank wars were officially banned.

The Command crew never found out the reason why McCoy and Spock had teamed up in the first place to torment Jim. And if they knew about the small holograph of James and Bones hidden away in McCoy's desk drawer, well...that was their little secret…)

Chapter Text

VIII

There's No Place Like Home Part I

Everything went downhill when Chekov knocked on Jim's door during shore leave. The crew of the Enterprise had been granted a sudden and rare month-long leave on their home planet and everyone had scattered the moment they had landed. Spock and Nyota had stayed in San Francisco; Sulu to Japan and Chekov to Russia. Scotty had remained on the ship, enjoying the emptiness and time with his 'girl', while Bones went to see his little girl in Georgia. Jim, on the other hand, disappeared with just a simple 'see ya later' and proceeded to go off the grid for no apparent reason.

The crew was instantly suspicious of his actions, but they didn't have the chance to ask before he completely disappeared. Each of them had secretly spent some time searching for him while on leave, but all leads had gone stone cold dead for two whole weeks.

That was until Chekov sought him out and discovered that he was in northern Germany, staying in some obscure motel that looked as though it barely passed the minimal safety requirements.

Jim's startled and slightly panicked look contrasted wildly with Chekov's bright grin.

"Chekov!" Jim gasped out. "How the hell did you find me?!"

"I found out zat you vere nearby, so I had to come find you."

"Shit…" Jim swore, dragging Chekov into his room, but not before poking his head out into the hallway to scan right and left and popping back inside.

"Keptin?" Chekov's expressions were confused as he found himself pushed towards the opposite wall.

"Damn it, Chekov! Weren't you supposed to be in Russia?"

Jim started rifling through his drawers, throwing out clothes and papers everywhere. He pulled out a well-hidden communicator and pressed it. Chekov could hear it dialing before an older, wary voice answered.

"Jim, you know you're not supposed to use this number unless it's an emergency."

Jim swiftly cut the Admiral off. "Pike, we've got a problem."

"What's wrong, Jim? Are you safe?"

He chose to deflect the question. "Chekov just showed up at my door! I thought you said that I was untraceable!"

Pike exhaled loudly.

"He was probably seen, Pike. They've been watching me for days. If I send him away, he'll get killed, and I'm not letting that happen. You've got to break protocol now, Pike. Things are going to get messy and you need to tell Spock to pick Chekov up."

"He'll pick both of you up." The strength in Pike's words was an unspoken promise to the young Captain.

"Just…don't call Bones, okay? He's with Joanna in Georgia right now and I don't want to interrupt."

"Jim, wouldn't you want McCoy there when we extract you?"

Jim fidgeted. He knew full well what lay ahead of him. There was going to be so much pain, so much blood. A piece of whatever was left of his shattered soul was going to die, and when that happened, the only one he could turn to was his best friend – his brother. Jim needed Bones, but Bones needed his daughter. Jim could never make Bones choose between his baby girl and him; not in this lifetime. Bones would always pick Joanna over him anyway, and Jim didn't want to put himself into the position where he could be hurt by that.

His fingers tightened around his communicator; decision made. "No. He already doesn't get enough time with his kid. Just tell Spock. I don't think we have much time anymore."

"Understood." There was a slight pause. "Be safe, Jim."

"You know that was out of the question when Komack brought me into this," sighed Jim, running his fingers through his hair. "Tell Komack that I'll finish the mission. We had a deal and he better keep to it."

He shot a glance at Chekov, worry and fear in his eyes – but not for himself. "Come and get us, Pike."

"We will, Jim. We will. Stay alive."

Jim hesitated. "I'll try. Kirk out."

He flung his communicator aside, letting it bounce off the floor, and plopped down heavily on the chair beside the door. He rubbed his face tiredly as he glanced up at Chekov standing awkwardly in front of him.

Chekov scrutinized Jim more closely. Jim's hair was no longer golden; it had been temporarily dyed into a darkish brown. It was longer and gelled back, quite unlike his usual ruffled style. His eyes were still blue, but there was a glint steel constantly within them, making them almost grey in color. His face was also covered in scruff, almost bordering on the line of a beard. And the oddest thing was that he was wearing a black suit – a jacket and a white button-collared shirt with the first three buttons left open. It wasn't something Jim would ever wear, even when he was off duty.

He was completely and utterly different, and Chekov wondered how he hadn't noticed until now.

"Keptin? Vhat is going on?"

Jim sighed. "I'm undercover, Chekov. Starfleet got word of some terrorists planning an attack and I'm supposed to investigate."

"But you are Keptin," frowned Chekov, trying to understand. "You should not hawe to do this."

"A while back, Komack got wind of my skill set and decided to put them to use. The goddamn man even went as far to threaten me. Despite Pike fighting for me, there isn't much he or I can do against that, even when I became Captain. Why do you think we were granted shore leave so easily?" Jim rubbed his face again. "Damn it, Chekov. You just had to come find me."

"Keptin?" Now, Chekov looked afraid.

"I had to infiltrate the organization and let's just say it didn't work out very well, so I tried a different tactic. Any minute now, they're coming for me."

"Vhat?!"

"And since you're here, they're going to nab you too," Jim continued as if Chekov never spoke. "Shit. This would've been so much easier if it was just me."

Jim stood up, smoothing out his suit in a nervous habit. He had experience; he had been trained (not willingly, of course. Tarsus, Frank, and the rest of the hundreds of people he pissed off had taught him how to handle…difficult situations), and Chekov wasn't.

Chekov was young and innocent. Sure, he had seen some harsh things. It came with the territory as a Starfleet officer, but Chekov's job usually kept him onboard. He didn't see the shit that Jim did on a daily basis. And that was only including the past couple of years. Jim didn't even bother to add his history to the mix. It would've tilted the balance between him and Chekov far too much.

Jim could've handled anything that was thrown at him. He was cockily confident in his high pain threshold, but Chekov? Jim just wanted to wrap the teenager in bubble wrap and throw him into an isolated, padded room.

But Jim was nothing if adaptable. He rolled his shoulders, resolve strengthening. Chekov could almost see the manic expressions of J.T. crawl upon Jim's face as he spoke. "Guess there's nothing we can do now but play the cards that have been dealt. You'll be fine as long as you follow a few simple rules. One, you will obey everything that I tell you. Whether it's to run or sit, you have to listen to everything I say. Even if I tell you to leave me behind."

Chekov looked stricken. "I vill not!"

"You're not going to have a choice, Chekov. Two, you say nothing. No matter what happens, you keep your mouth shut. Three, and this is most important, Chekov, no matter what happens, you stay strong, understand me?"

Jim stepped forward and placed both hands on Chekov's shoulders. "Chekov, I can't guarantee that you won't get hurt, but I will do everything in my power to bring you back safe, I promise."

"Keptin, are you going to let them capture you?" Chekov's eyes were ridiculously wide now and Jim was trying very hard to not read what was in them; it would probably break him.

"Yeah." Jim stepped back and flopped back down in the chair, his eyes drawn upwards, unseeingly, towards the ceiling. There was too much he had to think over; too many possibilities and outcomes to test in his mind.

"Vhy not fight?"

"Because I won't get any information otherwise."

"You vill purposefully let them take you for this reason? Are you mad?! Do you know vhat they vill do to you?"

"Yeah, well aware. It's not my first rodeo, Chekov. This is actually the third uncover mission I've been on since I've been Captain, and sixth since the Academy. I know what I'm doing. The only unaccounted variable for is you."

Jim kept his eyes glued to the ceiling, drawing up plans as he went and scrapped the ones he already had. Strategy was everything and it would be the one thing that would protect Chekov.

"Vas Doctor McCoy avare of zis?" Chekov asked quietly.

"Not this one," came the soft response. "Who do you think fixes me up in time to walk onto the Bridge in one piece?"

After a moment of silence, Chekov muttered. "Keptin, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not exactly your fault." A pause and Jim straightened to look at Chekov again. "How did you find me? You never said."

"I caught a transmission from ze 'fleet regarding your location, but I did not know zat you vere on a mission. I just thought zat since you vere alone, I could keep you company."

Instantly, Jim was suspicious, rapidly connecting the frayed lines that were supposed to be well hidden. "Was the voice male or female?"

"Male."

"Fuck. It had to be Komack messing around again! Fuck!" Jim angrily threw the nearby phone on the desk beside him against the adjacent wall, making Chekov flinch violently. The equipment shattered to pieces. "First the bastard drags me into this mess and now he brings you in?! That's where I draw the goddamn line!"

Chekov stared at the broken pieces on the ground, his entire body taut with fear and confusion. "But he did not tell me to come."

"No, but he knows how to play people," Jim spat. "I was forbidden to tell anyone of my location, and I warned him that it would raise some red flags among my crew. He used that to his advantage, bringing you over to Germany. God…I'm so sorry, Chekov. I never wanted to involve any of you in this kind of shit, least of all you."

"Vhy vas I vanted?"

"You're a genius and he has yet to learn about my skills with technology. He probably wanted you to help me take down the organization from the inside out. Like, hack and demolish their databases."

"Keptin, vhat is your mission exactly?"

Jim's cold, blue eyes reminded Chekov of J.T., and it sent shivers down his back. "You don't want to know that, Chekov."

All at once, Chekov snapped, "You alvays do zis, Keptin! You alvays do everything alone, even vhen there are people right beside you! You think you are protecting us, but sometimes, by doing so, you put us into more danger. And sometimes, you hurt us more by not zinking zat you are important! You are family, Keptin, and ve do not turn our backs on each other. I need to know vhat ve are facing, Keptin. Do not run avay from me."

"What if I don't want to tell you?" Jim's expression had become strained, almost pleading.

"I vill find out sooner or later. It vill be easier on both of us if you tell me now."

Jim's fingers started drumming on the arm of the chair. Silence fell, but Chekov waited patiently as Jim gathered the courage to speak.

When Jim finally spoke, he refused to make eye contact with the Navigator. "I was ordered to infiltrate and eliminate all the terrorist cells involved. Weapons, information, and persons included."

Chekov just stared at him. "Persons?"

"Leave no trace behind. Show no mercy."

"Vill you really do zat?" Chekov gaped.

"It wouldn't be the first time…" Jim murmured.

"Vhy vould you agree to this, Keptin?! You are not ze kind of man zat would do this sort of zing!"

"Clearly, I'm not the man you think I am." He leaned forward. Any trace of the kindness that Chekov had grown so accustomed to was gone, leaving only a cold mask that was a remnant of J.T.

Chekov didn't get the chance to ask Jim to elaborate before loud footsteps echoed towards them; angry shouts in the Germanic language reached them seconds before the door was kicked in.

Jim leapt to his feet, placing himself between Chekov and the throng of eleven men who came rushing in. All wore black ski-masks and carried archaic AK-42s.

"Hands in the air!" screamed a few of the men in German.

Jim raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender, and Chekov followed suit, despite not understanding what was being said. "We're unarmed. There's no need for those…" Jim answered quickly in German, nodding towards the guns. Panic was written all over Jim's face – completely faked, but it lulled the mercenaries into a false sense of security.

"I think there's plenty need for these, Captain James T. Kirk. We've heard rumors about you."

"Now, I'm a bit embarrassed, because you know who I am, but I don't have the pleasure of knowing you," Jim responded, unable to suppress his innate cheekiness.

"I think you know exactly who are. Boys?"

Five men moved forward, roughly wrenching Jim's arms behind his back, but Jim made no move to stop them.

"Keptin!" exclaimed Chekov, reaching forward.

One man swung around and smacked Chekov harshly across his face. Chekov was so shocked at the feel of fire spreading from his cheek that he couldn't even make a sound.

At that, Jim started to struggle, elbowing one of his captors to kick the man who hit Chekov. "Hands off him, you fucking bastards!" snarled Jim.

Immediately, all men except their leader leapt onto Jim. Punches and kicks were thrown; people were dropped heavily onto the ground. Someone got a lucky hit in, striking against the back of Jim's head so hard that his vision flickered. He dropped heavily to his knees, blackness swallowing him.

The last thing he heard was Chekov screaming for him, and Jim couldn't help but think of how things would be different if Chekov hadn't knocked on his door.

Spock was sleeping in his quarters in San Francisco when his communicator rang loudly. Blearily, he recognized the rhythm of the sounds that indicated the message's urgency. With more grace than a human, he fumbled to answer it.

"Spock," he forced out, blinking out the drowsiness from his body.

"Spock, we have a situation," Pike's voice had said. "You better come down to my office now."

The urgency in the Admiral's words was easily picked up and Spock wasted no time to slip into his Starfleet uniform before making his way to Pike.

Now, as he stood before both his and Jim's mentor, he couldn't help but feel as though he was still asleep.

"Can you please repeat that, Admiral? I am not sure that I heard correctly."

Pike sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "Jim was sent on a mission and things got complicated. From my last conversation with him, his capture was imminent and he requested extraction for both him and Ensign Chekov."

There was a beat of silence as Spock digested the information. How had he not known about this? Jim was a magnet for disaster and danger, and yet he was sent out without the Enterprise as backup?! "What mission? Ensign Chekov was involved as well?"

"He wasn't supposed to be there; Jim was doing this on his own. And I can't tell you about Jim's mission, Spock. It's above your pay-grade. Sorry."

A flicker of anger arose in Spock's eyes. "I am Jim's First Officer: I should have been aware of this mission." He should have been on it with Jim. Once Spock learned that Jim had the survival instincts of a mayfly, Spock had readily and silently swore that he would always be there to support Jim and keep him safe.

If there was one thing Spock learned during his time with Jim, it was that Jim should never be left alone.

"You didn't have the clearance, Spock, otherwise I would have told you. His mission came from the very top and was supposed to kept in the dark."

"I have the same clearance level as Captain Kirk, Admiral. I should have been informed if my Captain was sent on a covert operation."

Pike gave Spock a look, well aware that the more formal Spock became, the angrier the Vulcan became, but if anyone had the right to be angry, it should be him. He was the last one to hear Jim speak before being taken. He was the last to hear the resignation, the fear – something that he had not heard from Jim in years. And he was damn sure that it was going to haunt him until Jim was found.

He stood up, raising himself to his full height. "Commander, I did not call you here to squabble over whether or not you had the right to know of Jim's mission. I called you here because Jim needs your help and you are wasting valuable time arguing with me. Now, you can sit down, shut up and listen to me or you can leave Jim in the hands of some terrorists who are more than happy to have their hands on the most decorated Captain in all of Starfleet."

Spock instantly snapped his mouth shut and all traces of fury were erased. Instead, it was replaced by worry and fear at the seriousness of the situation. It was quite a sight to see, seeing Spock plop down on the chair before Pike with all his attention on him.

Pike sank down in his chair too, "Jim was taken by a terrorist group that he was investigating. His last known location was in Poland at that explosion at the xeno-hospital in Warsaw. I'm not sure how it happened, but Ensign Chekov discovered where Jim was and went to him. From what I gathered, his appearance may have spurred the terrorists into action."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Jim's cover had been blown before Chekov even joined him. He was waiting for the terrorist to come to him."

Spock almost frowned. "I do not understand. If he was already in danger, why did no one extract him earlier?"

"Jim didn't tell anyone until he called me. Knowing him, he probably blew his cover on his own volition so that he could get closer to the terrorists."

"Even if it meant getting captured?"

Pike's face darkened. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"Pardon?" Spock's shock couldn't even be hidden by his Vulcan side. "This is not his first covert mission?"

"Unfortunately, no. You know Jim. He has skills that no one else has. He's a goddamn ninja and Starfleet can't help but use him. And Jim doesn't even have the ability to say no, not that he would. He's still too busy trying to prove that he deserves his Captaincy, even though he's shown that over a hundred times by now."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Spock in the slightest. Jim had always been a lone wolf, choosing to push away others and do things on his own. In Jim's eyes, no one else needed to get hurt – he alone was fine. Spock wasn't sure if this ridiculous low self-worth that Jim had was a result of his childhood abuse, the Tarsus trauma, or if it was just that he was born that way. Either or, Spock had noticed that Jim would always throw himself head first into a nearest fray without a second thought to his wellbeing. Spock wasn't sure how Jim survived up until now with that mindset, but he was sure that Dr. McCoy had something to do with it. The doctor was always one step behind Jim with his hyposprays at the ready. Spock, on the other hand, seemed to always be a step too late, just like this time.

Knowing how close Jim and McCoy were and how much Jim relied on the doctor, Spock made the logical leap that Leonard was aware of Jim's jobs on the side. "Does Dr. McCoy know of Jim's location? I assume that they kept in contact."

Pike winced. "McCoy doesn't know about this mission and Jim has asked that he be kept in the dark."

Dr. McCoy didn't know? He was not going to be pleased. Spock almost shivered at the thought of what McCoy would do to Jim when he got a hold of him.

"Spock, this must be kept quiet. The mission that Jim is on is very sensitive and it would put him in greater danger if word gets out regarding what he's doing. I'll help as much as I can, but I'm in a difficult position. I can't directly go against another Admiral's orders, so you need to find both him and Chekov and pull them out."

"I cannot do it alone, especially with the restrictions that I assume will be placed on me."

"You can tell the rest of your Command crew, but it has to be kept in that circle. Do you understand me?"

"Understood, sir."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by Spock's communicator going off its hinges for the second time that night. He pulled it out to see that Dr. McCoy was calling him, which was an unusual event in itself.

His eyebrow rose in confusion, which was noticed by Pike.

"Is that McCoy?"

"Yes."

"Pick it up."

Spock raised his eyes to look at Pike. "Didn't Jim wish for his predicament to stay a secret from Dr. McCoy?"

"I promised Jim that I wouldn't tell him, but that doesn't mean that you can't. McCoy should know about this."

Spock nodded and answered.

His greeting was cut off immediately when McCoy's voice filtered through, "Spock, where's Jim? He hasn't been answering his communicator for a few days and he always takes my calls. You know where he is?"

For McCoy to have called Spock on his own will, it must have meant that he was far more worried than his tone could ever show.

Spock looked uncertainly at Pike. "I do not know of Jim's whereabouts," he answered truthfully after a beat of silence.

Instantly McCoy was suspicious. "What was that? You hesitated. You never hesitate. What the hell did that kid do now? Where is he? I'll grab my medkit."

"Doctor, I am answering you truthfully: I do not know where Jim is."

Even though McCoy fell quiet on the other end, Spock somehow could hear the wheels turning in his mind.

"Where are you right now, Spock?" McCoy asked.

"I am currently in Admiral Pike's office."

"He can hear us, can't he?"

"Affirmative."

"Give him the communicator." McCoy's tone was gruff and rude.

"Doctor…" started Spock, not wanting McCoy's naturally grouchy personality to offend an Admiral, even if it was Pike.

"Give it to him!" Anger laced McCoy's words and Pike and Spock just knew that McCoy had figured it all out.

Pike reached his hand out and took the communicator from Spock's hand. "This is Pike."

"Did Jim get sent on another goddamn mission?! Why the hell was I not informed?!"

"Jim," Pike sighed, as if that one word could elucidate everything. And it did.

"Why the hell didn't he want to tell me?! We had an agreement!"

"You had Joanna." And that in itself explained the inner workings of Jim's mindset.

McCoy actually paused at that. A sigh could be heard on his side. "That damn idiot with no sense of self-worth…Please tell me that he's fine and on his way home now."

"There's been a complication…"

"Spit it out, man!"

"He's been captured, along with Ensign Chekov," Spock answered, leaning slightly over Pike's desk so Leonard could hear him better.

McCoy groaned. "And you guys have no idea where he is either, do you?"

"If Ensign Chekov was able to discover where Jim is, then I am sure that I will be able to as well."

"How did Chekov even know where to start looking? Jim always disappears off the grid when he's on these missions, and he's damn good at covering his tracks. Even with Chekov's smarts, there's no way he could have found Jim on his own."

"Then how do you propose that Mister Chekov discovered Jim's location."

There was a sound of a door closing on McCoy's end. "I have an idea. I'll be in San Francisco in like two hours. I'll meet you at HQ. McCoy out."

Pike sighed again as soon as McCoy hung up. "That man is going to give me an ulcer."

"The doctor or Jim?" Spock asked.

"That's a very good question," Pike murmured, choosing not to answer it. "Make sure McCoy doesn't raise too much trouble when he gets here, Spock. I don't have enough power to protect him and Jim at the same time. And keep me updated. I'll try to open as many doors as I can. You did not hear this from me, but you are to retrieve Jim at all costs, even if it means resorting to unauthorized means."

"Understood."

Pike nodded. "Good luck, Spock. Find our boys and bring them home."

Steel and determination shone brightly in Spock's eyes. "It is the only place where they belong."

There was a low, dull throbbing at the back of Jim's head when he awoke. It pulsed with every beat of his heart, making it hard to think above the aching. As slow as his brain was working, Jim knew that his pain wasn't caused by a drunken night with Scotty and Bones. No, it was physical, and judging by the feeling, someone had more than likely taken a wooden bat to his head. It was actually kind of sad that Jim could pinpoint out how his injuries were incurred merely by the type of pain, but somehow still unsurprising with all the shit that he had experienced.

He suppressed a groan and kept absolutely still as his senses reached out to categorize his whereabouts. Judging by the feel of the cold, unforgiving ground under him, he was laying on his side on stone with straw scattered around him. His hands had been bound behind his back and his ankles were also tied together. Inching his fingers around the manacles, a picture of the steel shackles with at least two or three inches of chains formed in his mind. He hid a smile; he could easily maneuver out of these and pick them.

Slowly, sounds returned to him in increments and the first thing he registered was Chekov's low, frightened call of his name. And then all the ridiculous, suicidal plans had to be thrown out of the window, because Jim was not going to let anything happen to his little brother.

"Keptin! Keptin! Please vake up!" whispered Chekov urgently.

It was the fear in Chekov's voice that completely jerked Jim out of his carefully constructed pretense and his eyes flashed open. His predictions were spot on – he and Chekov were imprisoned in a small space with barely enough leg room for the two of them. A large, bolted wooden door kept them shut in. Chekov was sitting up, inches away from him, with his hands chained before him with his legs unbound. There was a dark bruise on Chekov's cheek and a trickle of blood down his split lip.

"Chekov!" gasped Jim, springing up. That was a tremendously horrific bad idea – the entire world titled nauseatingly and an agonizing headache came back with vengeance. And then suddenly, it was too much and Jim leaned over to the side (away from Chekov, because he still had some semblance of coherence left) and vomited painfully onto the ground.

His retching continued until he felt tears prickling at his eyes; each exaggerated movement sent sparks of pain running down his nerves. God fucking damn. They just had to hit him on the back of the head, didn't they? Fucking bastards. Some day or another, people have just got to learn that Jim could only take so many brain-bashing hits before he became a fucking vegetable.

"Keptin, are you alright?" Chekov asked quietly as Jim's body finally calmed down.

Jim leaned back, resting his head gently onto the stone wall as he caught his breath. He winced as the movement brushed the tender spot. "Yeah…" he breathed. "You?"

"I'm fine," assured Chekov.

"Did they do anything to you?"

Chekov shook his head, his eyes wide and afraid, yet so trusting of Jim. "No. I vas knocked out vhen zey put a cloth ower my face." His nose crinkled. "It smelled funny."

"Ah. That would be chloroform." Jim glanced around, frowning. "How long have we been here?"

"Several hours? I'm not sure."

"Has anyone come by yet?"

"No."

Jim shifted with a muffled groan. "Then they'll be here soon." He closed his eyes, swallowing hard as he tried to get a bearing. "Chekov, are there any cameras in this room? Look, but don't be obvious about it."

Chekov obeyed and dutifully replied. "Yes. One, in ze back corner behind you."

"Sound and video?"

"Video only."

"Great."

Silence fell.

"Keptin, are you alright?"

Jim felt Chekov shuffling closer to him and barely touching his shoulder, urging him to open his eyes.

"Yeah…" he said, smiling.

"Do you hawe a plan?"

"Working on it."

Chekov reached out and gently moved Jim's head downwards to check at this injury. "You're still bleeding."

"Head wounds tend to do that," said Jim. "But on the bright side, at least I don't have a concussion."

Chekov raised an eyebrow, quite like Bones when he didn't believe a word that Jim was saying. Jim almost snorted, if it didn't hurt so much. "I know concussions, Chekov. This isn't one, trust me."

There was probably some pretty severe bruising that Bones would yell at him for later, but Chekov didn't need to know that.

Like before, footsteps echoed outside of the door and Jim instantly got to his feet, wavering slightly, but steady in front of Chekov.

The door burst open and armed men, no longer masked, came in. The leader was a large man of six-four wearing a black outfit. It was taut around his shoulders and muscles and there was an air around him, as if he was the center of gravity and drew people in to him. Almost like Jim, there was also a feel of constant malice that never diminished.

"Captain Kirk, what a pleasure to meet you. My name is Hans," greeted Hans. His words were tinged with a slight German accent.

"Why, hello, Hans," Jim returned, a cocky mask upon his face. He was strong and stood tall; not something they had expected after hitting him so hard. "I've got to say, your bedside manner is lacking, Hans."

"Did you really think that no one will discover who you are, Captain?"

"Well, I am quite a good-looking fellow. It's hard to forget a face like mine."

Hans nodded at someone and he struck out, punching Jim hard in the stomach. Jim grunted and doubled over, but straightened immediately, a smirk still on his face.

"I wouldn't be so arrogant, Captain Kirk. You are not in power here," said Hans, setting his arms behind his back. "If you would be so kind as to answer our questions, it would be much appreciated."

"I'm going to just go ahead and say 'fuck you'," Jim said cheerily.

"I can't tell you how much that pleases me," smiled Hans. "Now I have reason to force it out of you."

The smirk on Jim's face dropped, turning into a feral snarl, as he growled out in German. "Bring it on, fucker."

"So be it."

Hans jerked his head towards Chekov. Men grabbed the teenager, dragging him to his feet. There was defiance in Chekov's eyes, not fear as Jim had expected, but either or, Jim was not about to let them harm his friend as long as there was still breath in his body.

His sharp elbow struck out, striking someone on the nose and breaking it. He ducked a hit to his head and leapt high, raising his knees so high that they almost crashing into his chin, and swiped his arms underneath his feet so that his hands were now in front of him. As soon as he landed lightly on his feet, Jim attacked the nearest man that had a hold on Chekov. Strong hands grasped the sides of the rebel's head and tightened as Jim twisted harshly.

The loud crack resounded in the small chamber and the rebel fell to the ground, dead. Jim didn't hesitate in his movements, even as the others froze in shock and fear. Jim punched the man next to him sharply in the temple; another one twice in rapid succession against his larynx. Others were struck with varying and precise strikes in the kidney, groin, and other vital points.

All it took was twenty-three seconds. Twenty-three seconds for Jim to completely incapacitate all the rebels.

Hans stared at Jim, something akin to nervousness in his eyes as he considered the man before him. His men lay scattered around Jim's feet, and the young Captain wasn't even winded. And all because his friend was about to be hurt. He raised his phaser to point at Chekov and Jim instantly shifted, putting himself before his comrade.

"You've shown your hand, Captain. It seems that we have leverage. I would tread carefully, Captain, or your friend may suffer." Hans set the phaser to kill. "Did you really think that you could escape with that?"

"Oh, I wasn't trying to escape. This little show?" Jim gestured at the fallen, groaning men, "It was to show you what I am capable of. I can easily rip you apart, Hans. You and the rest of your people. And you're right: you have leverage against me. I just wanted to let you know that if you touch a single hair on Chekov's head, I will spare no one."

"Your threats are empty."

Jim let his bloodthirstiness bleed through, his eyes so menacing. "Are they?" He switched into German. "I understand perfectly the position I am in; as should you. As long as my friend remains unharmed, I will not struggle. I will not fight or try to escape, but the moment you hurt him, the moment you touch him, I will burn this place to the ground. Do we have a deal?"

There was a flicker on uncertainty on Hans' face and Jim took a step forward, his entire presence domineering over the German man. "You knew who I was the moment I showed my face, so you know of me. You have heard of my tales. You know that my threats are as real as you and me." He paused for dramatic effect. "Now, do we have a deal?"

Jim easily read the anxiousness in Hans' eyes, and he knew that he had won. He lifted his bound hands in front of him – a surrender of sorts.

"Keptin, vhat are you doing?" hissed Chekov.

"Shut up, Chekov," Jim growled. "Rules, remember? Keep your mouth shut!"

At that, Hans tucked his gun away and reached out to roughly grab Jim's wrists. "Let's go." He kicked at a nearby rebel, and yelled at them in German. "Get off your asses, you useless idiots, and get out!"

Groans erupted as those left alive struggled to obey. A couple of them lifted the dead one up and all them exited the chamber.

Hans and Jim were the last to go.

"Keptin!" cried Chekov, halfway in motion to launch himself at Jim.

"I'll be fine," Jim said quickly, halting Chekov in his steps. "You just stick to the rules."

And then the door slammed shut behind him, leaving Chekov all alone in the epicenter of one the most vicious human terrorist cells in the universe.

Leonard had said a quick and tearful goodbye to his baby girl who clung to him like a limpet, before he climbed into the hovercar that was going to take him to the nearest transporter station. He almost had to pry her off him and he hated himself for doing so. It really was so rare that he got to spend time with Joanna – the girl was growing up so fast without him. But Jim – his stupid, genius best friend – just had to get himself in trouble again.

It wasn't as if he blamed Jim for losing time with Joanna – not even in the slightest, because he knew that Jim needed him more at the moment. He wasn't mad at Jim for getting himself roped into another covert mission again. He wasn't even upset because he knew of Jim's circumstances and how exactly he got chained by that bastard Komack from the beginning.

Back when they had first become roommates, he and Jim were caught in a bad situation. They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. A small terrorist group had snuck onto campus and had held an entire building hostage. It happened to be the Engineering complex where Jim and McCoy had had classes in that day. When McCoy had realized what was going on, he had bemoaned that he wouldn't get to see his daughter one last time and tell her how much he loved her. At that, a strange mixture of longing and loss had crossed Jim's face, which was immediately replaced with a cocky grin. In the next second, Jim had disappeared into thin air with just a "Don't worry, Bones. I'll get us out of this."

As if that had really alleviated his fears at that time, but then again, that was before McCoy even knew of Jim's incredible skills.

The terrorists had weapons and threatened to kill them if any tried to call for help. As first year students, many of them had followed directions, pressing themselves face-down to the ground as the terrorists scavenged for starship blueprints. Those who didn't were stunned and were left where they fell. One brave girl had tried to pull the alarm and was quickly put down. One of the men had kicked her while she laid on the ground, curling to make herself a smaller target, and aimed his phaser at her.

All of a sudden, Jim had jumped down from the ceiling and sprung into action, leaping upwards and rendering the man unconscious with a swift strike to the back of the neck. Jim had easily disarmed him and accurately stunned the remaining men around, except for the obvious leader, but he kept his phaser pinned on him.

Seconds later, security had rushed in and taken over the situation, arresting all those that were involved in the terrorist cell. It turned out that Jim had incapacitated all members long before he even got to the first floor where the remaining five men were at, making it easier on security, but that information was kept on the down low. McCoy only learned about it because Jim had told him. Otherwise, Jim's extraordinary prowess was covered up by Komack who recognized Jim as a potentially powerful tool.

McCoy was never sure when Jim started going on Komack's missions. There must've been at least two before McCoy was even aware of their happenings. He had found out when Jim came back to their room, bleeding out of almost every orifice of his body. Jim had been poisoned and beaten, probably even tortured, before he collapsed at Bones' feet. Then the whole story spilled out.

Jim's record wasn't clean and even though most of his juvenile delinquencies were expunged, Komack dug them out and threatened to expel him from the Academy if he didn't obey. Admiral Komack held a lot of influence in the Academy and his threats were far from empty. Jim had no choice – even McCoy had to agree – but at least he was always going to be around to keep him in one piece.

When Jim rose to Captaincy, McCoy was so sure that Jim was going to be released from his bonds, but Komack found new threats – saying that he would take away McCoy and his crew (he knew he couldn't touch Jim, now that he was a hero, but the rest were completely open and vulnerable). So Jim kept it up, going and coming like a shadow. Sometimes, he would come back bleeding or bruised, but Jim always managed to stay relatively unharmed.

McCoy always worried when Jim left – he always knew that his best friend could be going to his death. All his missions were extremely dangerous and required the utmost discretion, but he was always alone. There was no partner or crew that Jim had to worry about – there was no one but himself that he had to concern himself with. Jim was always the safest in that manner because there was no one around that he could put before him. If Chekov was with him, then Jim was in more danger than before. McCoy had no doubt that Chekov would be safe (well, as safe as he could be), but Jim? McCoy felt more fear than he had ever had before in his entire friendship combined.

And Jim hadn't told him about this mission.

McCoy wasn't sure if he was angry or touched by the gesture. After McCoy had found out about these missions, he had made Jim promise to always tell him when he was being sent off. Jim hadn't promised, but he had agreed. For the next five or so years, Jim had been amenable and told him each time, but then and again, McCoy hadn't been with Joanna during those times. This was the first time that McCoy's time with his daughter had coincided with Jim's mission and of course Jim would choose to not tell him. Jim probably didn't want to interrupt his precious time with his baby girl and decided to proceed all by his lonesome self. The man was the most selfless person McCoy had ever met, and sometimes, McCoy hated it.

He hated how sacrificing Jim was because he hated seeing how Jim was always so unsure of himself – of how much he weighed in other people's lives. In their eyes, Jim was replaceable and insignificant. To McCoy, Jim was a solid anchor in his life. He couldn't be with Joanna every day, but he could with Jim. Jim made him see things in way he never thought to look before. He followed the goddamn man to the fucking stars!

When he found Jim again, he was going to have Spock hold Jim down while he beat into his head that he mattered. Jim had wormed his way into his and the rest of the Enterprise crew's hearts: he couldn't do dumb shit like this anymore.

His family wasn't going to let him.

Usually, when the threat of torture and unspeakable pain was lying in the immediate future, people would feel fear eat away at whatever courage was left, scratching, tearing, and dissolving so that there was nothing left in their veins except for terror and dread. But Jim wasn't exactly normal. There was confidence in his strides and aloofness in his mannerisms, and the rebels were genuinely confused.

Almost no one knew of Jim's past (Jim had made it that way). Almost no one knew how many times Jim had been torn down, ripped apart, and built back up again. He had been broken like a glass window, shattered to pieces over and over to the point that Jim couldn't even count anymore. He would painstakingly glue the parts of himself back together, one jagged piece at a time. There weren't many things left in this universe that frightened Jim, and there was a reason for it.

Torture was not one of something Jim was actively worried about, and now that Chekov's safety had been ensured, Jim could hardly care what was going to happen to him.

He was not so easily broken now.

As he was ushered down the winding, twisting hallways, Jim kept an eye out, soaking in his surroundings and committing it to memory. A part of him wanted to scold the rebels and call them stupid for leaving him unmasked, but then again, his mission would've been a little bit harder to complete if that happened.

These rebels were well-stocked. Jim took note of a few rooms filled with modernized and archaic weapons. He was sure he saw a rocket-launcher lying against a crate, juxtapose to a large pile of phasers. It was an odd sight to see – the past and present together to become a dangerous threat to the world outside.

The base itself was dark and dank; all lights were artificial and there were no such things as windows. It seemed that the rebels had buried underground – no wonder no one could find them, despite their flashiness of their actions. Jim's teeth gritted as he fought to fight down the latest bout of anger against these men as he remembered their most recent terrorist act.

The rebels had not distinguished between women, children, and their intended targets. They had just wanted the aliens out of Earth – to return the planet to its "rightful" owners. It didn't matter who they took down in between. They had been responsible for several bombings throughout the world, particularly in Europe.

Jim had been at the site of the latest attack a week ago – they had placed a bundle of C4 explosives at the very foundation of a hospital in Poland that was known for its extensive and advanced xeno-medicine. A hospital, of all places! A place of healing and safety.

He hated hospitals, he hated doctors and everything that ever came to medicine because he had been poked and prodded until he was plain sick of it. But he had always respected the medical field because they saved lives, and to someone like him who had seen so much carnage, that was sacred. When he had walked over the wreckage of the crumbled building, his eyes soaked in the sights of kids, babies, men, women, and different races – all innocent – as they lay disfigured around his feet. Their expressions and bodies had been frozen in a moment of terror and pain.

Even if Komack hadn't threatened his crew for him to go undercover, Jim eventually would have found a way to step in. These rebels had hurt kids and they weren't going to get away with it.

The layout of the base camp wasn't very complicated and it wasn't very large. The parts that Jim didn't get to see, he could predict, but he hadn't really been able to see the technology that these rebels had a hold of. That was key. It was easy to take down the people here, to bring this base to its heels, but the danger was in how far this organization had spread. Jim could easily upload a virus into their systems and shut down everything, but he needed to know what operator they had, and he needed to find out the locations of the other bases. It was going to be difficult with the constant security around him. They certainly were not underestimating him like others have. And it sucked.

Someone (Jim named him Twitchy out of spite), hit him hard, distracting him from his thoughts and roughly shoved him into a room. Jim stumbled in and immediately noted the stench of iron hovering in the air around him: blood, his mind supplied, and a lot of it at one point. There were shackles hanging from the ceiling's rafters; a table with a set of bloodied tools next to it. Whips, knives, and sharp weapons were stacked against the wall beside the hearth.

Jim was pushed towards the two chains in the center of the room, which were wrapped around each of his wrists. A creaking noise reached his ears as a pulley system was activated in the walls opposite to each other, pulling and forcing his arms apart so that he was standing with in the shape of a 'T'; then, his ankles were shackled to the stone ground.

"Captain Kirk," Hans said in German, "We have fulfilled our end of the bargain. Your friend will not be harmed. Now, would you be so kind to tell us how you found us?"

Jim smirked. "I said that I would not struggle or try to escape; I never agreed to answer your questions."

"Do we have to force it out of you, Captain?" A manic glint crossed Hans' eyes.

Jim easily matched it, giving Hans a feral snarl. "You can try."

'Twitchy' strode around Jim and grabbed a whip with frayed ends. Barbs were stuck on the bottom of each strand of the whip – it was made to inflict as much pain as possible.

Jim raised an eyebrow (if Spock could make it infuriating, then he could too), "Whips? Really? I didn't take you for a kinky man, Hans."

"And I didn't take you for a fool. Begin!"

Searing pain ripped through Jim's back as the leather tore through his thin shirt and skin. It burned as the barbs struck in deep, only to be jerked out again. Jim's entire body flinched and he couldn't manage to hide his wince, but he quickly detached his mind from his body, placing an expressionless mask on upon his face.

The first strike was always the worst. It was when the pain was at its peak, but now that the baseline had been set, Jim knew what to expect – what to prepare for. The longer the physical torment went on, the more endorphins would be released in response to his pain and sooner or later, everything would go numb.

Another strike landed, making the cracking sound echo in the room, and though Jim's body arching unbidden in response to the pain, he barely reacted. No sounds escaped him; no grimaces or tears.

And it enraged Hans.

After twenty or so lashings, Jim remained standing. His shirt was in tatters and blood and sweat dripped down his back. He was paler and breathing harder, but his blue eyes were still bright with defiance.

Hans walked forward, placing his hand on Jim's right shoulder. Jim felt his stomach roll when he realized what Hans was about to do.

"How did you find us?" Hans asked again.

"I followed the trail of stupidity," Jim gritted out, struggling to keep the trepidation from showing in his eyes.

Hans patted Jim's shoulder and another rebel (Bugger, Jim named him) started pulling at the chains at a rapid pace. Jim suppressed a groan as his arms were jerked harshly, threatening to be popped right of its joints. The agonizing pressure only increased in the horrible game of tug-of-war and suddenly, Jim's right shoulder gave out.

A loud pop resonated in Jim's ears, followed by searing pain that could have only been brought on by the dislocation of his joint. His nerves grated as his arm moved, sending jolts of lightning through his body. Jim had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to prevent himself from screaming out,

Hans said something to Bugger, but Jim didn't hear it. His ears were filled with the thudding of his own pounding heartbeat as he tried to breathe through the pain. The pulling on his arms suddenly stopped and Jim's entire body sagged, dropping to his knees. He sucked in a harsh breath as the reverberation of his knees colliding with the hard floor jolted his shoulder, sparking it further on fire.

Jim was panting now and sweat was dripping down his pale face.

Hans squatted down in front of Jim and lifted his head by his chin. "This is where you belong, Captain: on your knees."

Hans stood again, wiping his hand on his pants as if touching Jim was the most disgusting thing he had ever done. "Give him thirty more lashes and throw him back in his cell," he said to Twitchy as he left the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Twitchy nodded and raised the whip again.

When the leather slapped against Jim's back, he couldn't stop a hiss from leaking out. And it fell upon his skin over and over again until finally and blissfully, he heard the whip being thrown onto the ground.

Rough hands unbound his wrists and he collapsed onto the ground, unable to hold himself up anymore. The same hands lifted him up from his shoulders, eliciting a sharp grunt as they shifted his dislocated one. He felt rather than saw himself being dragged down the hallways again.

Words were being said over him and he filed them away to decipher later; for now, he was focusing on not throwing up and passing out before these moronic goons. Pride and all. He heard a door being unbolted and a key being inserted, and then he was tossed, like a piece of garbage, into his cell where he laid pathetically on the ground.

Laughter reached his ears just as the door banged shut, but he kept still, urging the pain to recede enough so that he could think properly.

Gentle hands roamed across his face, coaxing and caressing.

"Keptin…" whispered Chekov. "Keptin, are you alright?"

Jim forced his eyes open, urging his muscles to obey him. Shaking and with Chekov's help, Jim struggled to sit up, wincing. He was careful of the open wounds on his back and he clutched his dislocated shoulder as he tried to find a less painful position.

When he settled, Jim let out a sigh. "I'm alright, Chekov."

"You don't look like it."

Jim shook his head slowly. "This is nothing." And it really wasn't, because Jim knew that it would only get worse from here, but he wasn't about to tell Chekov that. "Help me up."

"Keptin, I don't zink zat is a good idea…"

"I need to set my shoulder. Help me up."

Chekov looked dubious, but he obeyed regardless. As soon as Jim was upright, he leaned his shoulder against the wall, aligning it properly. He took a deep breath and without letting himself hesitate, he jammed himself against the stone. The joint slid back into place, but not before sending sparks of burning agony down his neck and arm. The muscles around his shoulder and his neck spasmed, intensifying his pain for a brief second.

A groan slipped out of his lips as he slid slowly to the ground, his hand grasping his aching shoulder. His eyes had closed again in an attempt to shield his mind from the pain.

Chekov rustled forward, pressing against Jim's uninjured side. "Doctor McCoy vill not be happy zat you did zat," he said absently.

Jim chuckled, "He's not going to be happy with any of this."

His joint throbbed, overshadowing Jim's other injuries. Jim frowned, feeling the dull burn that remained in place; this sensation was not something that he was familiar with after all the times that he had to relocate his shoulder. He must've damaged the surrounding muscles with his actions; it was the only explanation. Oh boy…Bones really was going to give him an earful for this.

He shifted, biting his lip as another groan threatened to escape him. This time, the cuts on his back burned. Closing his eyes, he inhaled and exhaled, erecting a mental wall against the pain. Suddenly, he felt so tired. Exhaustion was seconds from overcoming him.

"Keptin?" Chekov asked cautiously.

"I'm just going to take a quick nap, alright?" Jim murmured. "Keep an eye out."

"Okay."

Silence fell and as much as he loathed it, Jim couldn't help but drift off into a restless sleep, dreaming of bright lights and laughter back on the Enterprise that had become his home.

Spock was waiting for McCoy at the front entrance of Starfleet Headquarters when the doctor arrived. He barely spared a glance to the Vulcan as he swept on past him, almost barreling into the building. Spock followed wordlessly, matching McCoy's strides easily.

"Has Pike told you any new information on Jim?" McCoy asked quietly. His voice was much quieter than he would ever speak in – too low for any passing ears to hear, but Spock was a Vulcan and he easily heard Leonard's question.

"No."

"Figures. Pike's hands are usually tied behind his back when it comes to Jim."

"Elaborate, Doctor."

McCoy gave Spock an odd and slightly confused look. "You do know that Jim's not actually Pike's subordinate, right?"

"Jim reports to Admiral Pike," responded Spock, a little befuddled.

"And Pike reports to Komack. Komack is the one that's holding the strings on Jim's back. Always has been. Pike cares about Jim and covers his ass most of the time, but he's careful to not rub Komack the wrong way. He can't help Jim, or anyone else for that matter, if he's been booted from his position."

"I was not aware that Admiral Komack has that much power."

"He doesn't, but he has plenty of sway in the Admiralty, though that's slowly shifting to Pike now. Jim was just going to wait for that to happen before he cut all ties with Komack, but it looks like he was forced to jump the gun."

McCoy turned down another hallway. "You said that Chekov's with Jim?"

"Yes."

"I will bet my ass that that meddling bastard was behind that. Fucking idiot is going to get Jim killed one of these days…" McCoy snarled under his breath.

Again, Spock found himself confused. "I am sure that Mister Chekov can be of help to Jim."

McCoy suddenly whirled around and forced Spock to back into the wall as he invaded the Vulcan's personal space. "Jim has always done these missions on his own – no team, no backup. It's always been just him. And that's because it's safer for him! There's no one else that he has to look out for, no one to protect. You throw in Chekov, a fucking sheep, into the midst of wolves, you can bet that Jim's going to be taking extremely risky chances with his life to keep him safe." McCoy backed up a step, frustration almost oozing out of his pores, and let Spock get his bearings back.

Turning, McCoy started to walk again. "So, we have to get them both out before Jim decides to do something stupid."

"And how do you propose we do that, Doctor? We do not have the means to begin our search."

"We don't, but I know exactly who does."

"Who is that?"

"The man who started this all."

McCoy came to a stop in front of a door. On it, written in gold, was: Admiral James Komack.

Spock set his jaw in determination, nodding to McCoy as they both got ready to wreak havoc. "Shall we begin?"

McCoy grinned with all his teeth. "It will be my genuine pleasure."

"Who do you think you are to barge in and demand answers out of me?" shouted Komack, his pudgy face red with fury.

Spock had slammed the door to his office open, frightening the Admiral for a brief second, and McCoy had proceeded to demand Komack to tell them where Jim was sent to.

"You put one of your own in a dangerous situation and worsened it by sending out Chekov to him!" McCoy returned, just as loudly. "I think I have every right to answers!"

"You have no proof of this!"

"Doesn't matter! Just tell us where you sent Jim and we'll get out of your hair, or what's left of it anyway."

"I don't have to deal with this. Remove yourselves before I call security."

"That would not be wise, Admiral," Spock said. "As the son of Ambassador Sarek and the counterpart of Ambassador Spock, calling security on me and my comrade here would only reflect badly upon you."

Komack's face reddened more.

"Furthermore, " Spock continued, as if he did not see Komack spluttering in anger. "We do not require much from you. Merely the last known location of Captain Kirk. It should not be difficult, unless you have other reasons why you refuse to cooperate?"

Spock's face revealed nothing – it was the perfect poker face – but Komack and McCoy could both see the threatening demeanor in his eyes. If Komack did not reveal what he knew about Jim, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Spock would create chaos in a way that only a Vulcan could: demolish any sort of credible reputation that Komack had with pure logic and facts.

"Kirk was supposed to be in Northern Germany. I don't know if he was actually there and I have no idea if Chekov even managed to make his way to Kirk. That's all I can share with you without breaching protocol."

"Fuck protocol!" McCoy burst out, almost lunging forward before Spock grabbed him and held him back.

"Spock, get a hold of your CMO!" shouted Komack. "And get the hell out of my office!"

"Thank you for your help, Admiral," Spock said over McCoy's incredulous, "You're thanking him?!"

And he dragged McCoy out without another word.

When they were both clear, McCoy snapped at Spock. "What the hell are you thinking?! We needed more information from him!"

"Calm yourself, Doctor. He was not going to divulge any more information."

"We could've forced it out of him!"

"There was no need. He had left documents concerning Jim's mission upon his desk and I have them memorized." Spock pressed his communicator and requested a beam-up to Enterprise. "Do not worry, Doctor. We will find Jim and Mister Chekov, even if it is the last thing we do."

McCoy could only gnaw at the inside of his cheek as lights swirled around him and Spock, trying desperately to quash down the heavy, ominous feeling in his stomach. .

The countdown to save Jim and Chekov was ticking down fast, and even as he and Spock rushed through the Enterprise, the clock bore down on all of them.

And he could only hope that they wouldn't be too late, because McCoy was fairly certain that no one could survive losing the one and only James T. Kirk.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

IX

There's No Place Like Home Part II

Hans asked Jim a question every day. Some were expected and revolved around the knowledge that only a Captain of the Enterprise and Starfleet would know. Others were more personal and always threw Jim off, but he refused to answer each one and passed the time trying to come up with more witty ways to insult Hans and his men. In response, Hans found more and more creative ways to try to make him talk.

The first day, Hans ripped off all his fingernails from his hands, leaving the flesh beneath them bloody and raw.

"What are the codes to the Enterprise, Captain?" Hans asked.

Jim was sitting on a bench, his arms outstretched and bound with steel manacles before him on a wooden table. It would be fairly easy to weasel out of his predicament, but he needed to buy more time for Chekov anyway, so he remained reticent and stared at the table like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen before.

Twitchy brought forth pliers – large, rusty ones that were still abnormally strong for its age. Bugger forced Jim's hands flat onto the table, making him spread his fingers.

"Answer the question, Captain," Hans growled, forcing Jim's chin up.

"The codes start with an 'f' and ends with a 'u'," Jim snapped back, his blue eyes blazing.

The pliers clung onto the nail of his right index finger and suddenly pulled back, completely peeling it off its finger-bed. Jim almost bit off his tongue to stop himself from screaming out. Blood gushed out, streaming out onto the table. The flesh beneath puckered immediately, sending throbs of pain down Jim's hand.

"What are the codes to the Enterprise, Captain?" Hans asked again.

Jim breathed through his nose harshly, shoving a barrier against the pain. He merely raised his blue eyes, glaring defiantly at Hans.

Hans nodded at Twitchy who ripped off the nail on his middle finger. He flinched violently, biting down on the inside of his cheek, but made no sound, so Twitchy moved onto the ring finger, then the pinky, and finally the thumb. By the end of it, Jim's face had become so pale and sweat was dripping down his brow; his breathing was harsh and irregular and he could barely hide the acute pain that was making his hand shake like a leaf in a gale.

"I see that you are unwilling to answer my question; how about I change the topic then? Do you have anyone in your life right now?"

Jim shot him a confused look, wincing as the sharp movement jolted his hand. What was the point of asking about his personal life?

"I hear that you are particularly close to your crew. It would pain you greatly if something happened to them, wouldn't it?" murmured Hans as he sat back casually, picking out the dirt from under his nails with a large knife. "Your doctor friend has a daughter, does he not? In Georgia, I believe."

Jim had to fight his rising instincts to tear out Hans' throat for even mentioning Joanna, but any sign of anger or fear would instantly put her and Bones in danger. Jim had no doubt in his mind that if he showed that cared, Hans would use his resources and hunt them down.

So he just shrugged, putting up an air of nonchalance. "Maybe? From what I hear, his bitch ex-wife took her off-planet so that they could get away from the crazy bastard."

The words (except for the one insulting his fucking ex-wife) felt bitter on his tongue, but it was worth it to see the look of surprise flicker across Hans' eyes.

"What about your First Officer? I hear you have a…'special' relationship with him."

Jim actually snorted at that. Him and Spock? Jesus. Did people really have nothing else to do with their lives? They really needed to stop playing matchmaker for him with whichever being was close to him. "You're wasting your time, Hans. I care for my crew as much as the next Captain. Would I give my life for them? Yeah, but only because it's written in my list of duties. Why else do you think I came out here alone?"

"Need I remind you that you were captured along with your comrade, Captain?"

Jim let honest fury lit up his eyes. "He was sent by my superior who didn't think I could get the job done. I work alone and they sent me a fucking child to do a man's job?"

"And yet you protect him?"

"You kill him and it's my ass on the line."

"You speak as though you are angry at Starfleet, yet you do not wish to tell me the codes to the Enterprise."

"It's something called a code of ethics, though I'm sure you've never heard about it before."

Anger flashed across Hans' face and he jerked up one finger. Twitchy excitedly tore off another nail on Jim's left hand; his middle finger to be precise.

Jim hadn't expected it and had let his senses lull while talking. His entire body cringed and he actually bit his inner cheek open before he got a handle of himself. Leaning forward, he spat out a mouthful of blood, hitting Twitchy in his right eye.

Fury contorted Twitchy's already deformed features and in seconds, two more of Jim's fingernails were torn off.

"Stop!" Hans shouted, coming forward.

At first, Jim thought that Hans just wanted Twitchy to leave some nails behind so he could continue to pester him for information, but Jim was so wrong. He had underestimated how sadistic Hans truly was.

Hans grabbed the pliers away from Twitchy and with a smirk that said that he enjoyed this way too much, he wrenched out Jim's remaining nails. Jim refused to make a sound, even though he was yelling internally.

That was until Hans pressed down the butt of the pliers against the raw flesh of his left middle finger. A gasp escaped him and he almost groaned out loud. His entire body curled in as his hands spasmed in agony.

And then Hans poured salt water all over his hands.

Jim's scream ripped through the air, leaving him gasping breathlessly.

It was the first scream that they had forced out of him.

It wouldn't be the last.

The second day, Hans moved onto physical blows, slamming metal bats down over and over again until almost all Jim's ribs were cracked or broken and bruises and hematomas decorated his battered body.

"What are the security codes to Starfleet headquarters?" Hans asked.

Jim was strung up by both his arms, dangling from the ceiling. It pained his sore, relocated shoulder and painfully stretched the wounds from the whips on his back, making some of them begin to bleed all over again. His shirt had been torn off, leaving him in just his slacks. He was still strong; his eyes still defiant and unconcerned at his predicament, despite the fact that his fingers had become so sensitive and uncoordinated from the pain.

The day before, speaking had caused him to be caught unawares, and he wasn't about to let that happen again. So no words left his mouth, even when Hans repeated his question.

Twitchy and Bugger (Jim was so going to make them suffer in the most painful way possible when this was all over) raised identical metal bats and looked at Jim like he was a fucking piñata.

"Tell me, Captain, or you will suffer the consequences."

Jim glared haughtily at him."Go to hell."

"Do it," Hans commanded in German.

And then Twitchy and Bugger were off to the races, striking Jim with all the suppressed fury they contained. Each hit made a sick, metallic sound, followed by the sound of bone cracking. Jim counted three or four ribs broken, and another two merely cracked. He jolted with each whack, unable to stop his body's peripheral nervous system from recoiling and making everything hurt all that more. The pain was resonating within him, like a rock being thrown into a calm pond. The ripples of agony were spreading fire throughout him; he could almost feel the bruises being marked everywhere on his skin.

It was the shortest beating Jim had ever had in his life.

But it was by far, one of the most debilitating.

The third day, Jim was waterboarded and almost died.

All Jim could remember was the sheer terror when his body flailed helplessly, like a fish on land. He couldn't even stall for time for Chekov because suddenly, there was nothing but darkness.

And then it was just pain, pain, pain.

On the fourth, Jim was connected to electrodes and shocked until he couldn't even feel the pain in his body anymore. That was a relief for a little while, until the painful feeling of pins and needles times a thousand kicked in.

His body jerked uncontrollably for minutes after the electricity had stopped being pumped against his skin. He could feel his heart beat unsteadily, fighting so hard to return back to its normal QRS complex.

"What information does Starfleet have on us?" Hans asked as he slowly walked in circles around Jim, swinging around a cattle prod.

Like before, he was hung up by his wrists. By now, he was sure there was going to be significant damage to his shoulder; not to mention, he was sure that the wounds on his back were going to scar horribly. Every time he was forced into this position, he could feel all the delicate healing rupture almost immediately. Now, he could barely catch his breath, let alone keep it from stuttering. All the electricity had run though his body, leaving his nerves temporarily overwhelmed.

Later on, when he was thrown back into his cell with Chekov, all his nerves woke up with a vengeance and he spent the next hour curled into a ball as all his muscles spasmed while his nerves shot pain signals through his entire system, making it feel as though every inch of his skin was on fire.

Everything burned and twisted, stung and ached, until finally, he could take no more and tears dripped slowly down his dirt-crusted cheeks.

The fifth, knives were brought out into play. Jim passed out from the lack of blood far before he would have from the pain.

Jim's tongue felt thick in his mouth, almost like it was a foreign object. His vision was wavering, going in out of blackness. All he could feel right now was the strain on his shoulders as he found himself hanging once more (they couldn't find another position to torture him in?).

Hans was delicately and artistically carving out pictures into Jim's skin, drawing blood with every flick of his wrist. At the start, Hans had been smart about all of this, cutting shallowly with his silver dagger so that he didn't puncture any vital organs, but enough so that Jim's already overtaxed nerves screamed.

Now, after more than half of his body had been desecrated, Jim felt the familiar edges of hypovolemic shock: lightheadedness, weakness, frigid coldness, and he could feel his heart beat unnaturally fast. It took a few more seconds than usual, but Jim instantly connected the lines to severe blood loss, and judging by the amount that was pooling by his feet, his salvation was near.

His world faded to black again and Jim welcomed it with everything that he had left of his sanity.

And then the cycle was repeated.

Chekov did what he could. When Jim was brought back to their cell, more half-dead than alive and barely conscious, Chekov would bind his injuries as best as he could. He would lend Jim his lap as a pillow and run his fingers as comfortingly and as painlessly through Jim's hair.

Food and water was given scarcely. Chekov never failed to try and coax Jim into eating, though he could barely stomach anything before throwing it all up again. In the end, he and Chekov both decided that it was more harmful if he ate and the food ended up rotting in a corner, despite Jim's quiet protests. But Chekov refused to eat if Jim couldn't. Most of the water was given to Jim as well and when he no longer had the strength to drink on his own, Chekov squeezed it down Jim's throat via a piece of cloth that he had ripped from his shirt.

"Don't vorry, Keptin, ze others vill be coming for us soon," Chekov murmured after the entire knife incident, stroking Jim's damp hair like Bones used to do when he was running a fever.

There was so much love and warmth in Chekov's voice that Jim simply didn't have the heart to tell him that help wasn't coming. When he had been dragged out for his daily torture session, he had seen a fully functional DRFM system and immediately felt his heart sink. The digital radio frequency memory system was being used for radar jamming, disrupting any locating devices that Spock or Starfleet could have. The memory loops that the DRFM system created would even send out signals for false targets and completely redirect radar signals. Jim was sure that Spock wasn't even looking in the correct area anymore.

Jim had made a promise that he would bring Chekov back safe, and he was damn sure to keep it. If no one was going to come for them, he would just have to break them both out.

So all he did was smile and flash his pretty blue eyes at the teenager. "Can't wait…There's no place like home, right, Chekov?"

Those were the last words that Jim said to Chekov for a while.

After that first week, Jim stopped talking completely. To Hans, to Chekov. He simply couldn't form the words anymore.

While Hans saw Jim's weakness as a sign of him wasting away, Chekov knew better. In the first few days that they spent crowded around each other, seeking comfort from one another, Jim would whisper his plans into Chekov's ear and Chekov would curl over Jim to give him the illusion of safety so that he could rest for a couple of hours and gather his strength. While Jim attempted to rest, Chekov would glare endlessly at the camera that never stopped recording, mentally going over all that Jim had laid out for the two of them.

It was the ninth day of their captivity and Jim was in his usual position, lying on his side with his head pillowed in Chekov's lap. He was curled in on himself, trying desperately to not shake, but he knew the accumulation of all his injuries had caused a bone-chilling fever. Chekov's thin fingers were weakly going through his hair. He could feel the slight tremor in Chekov's hand and he felt his lips pull down into a frown. The starvation didn't affect him, at least not anymore, but Chekov on the other hand? Jim knew firsthand how painful hunger was – how it ate at the lining of the stomach, cramping, churning, and stabbing. Chekov wasn't going to last much longer and Jim didn't have the strength to try and convince him to eat anymore.

He wasn't doing so well either. Worse than he had thought he would be. He could barely walk anymore; just moving his feet sent jolts of fire up and down his spine. His fingertips had swollen and breathing only reminded him of his painfully, broken ribs. A cough had started to settle in deep in his chest; the wet hacking made everything hurt more. There was something deeply, deeply wrong than just the superficial injuries that he had. The lacerations all over his body had started to close over, but it had also begun to fester, making the skin around the cuts painfully hot to the touch. Infection had settled in, spreading poison slowly through his veins.

He just needed to last one more day. Just one more before he and Chekov could escape, but he had a deep, sinking feeling in his gut that made his stomach twist ominously. It was familiar – he always had the same feeling right before shit went down, and Jim had to be ready for whatever was coming.

Jim shifted slightly, quietly groaning as the movement sent fire through his broken and beaten body. Instantly, Chekov's hand was on his face, caressing ever so comfortingly. Chekov leaned down, his wide eyes looking at Jim. They were so close – just a couple more inches and they could practically be kissing – but they both knew that it was so that Chekov's curls, though greasy and flat, could block Jim's face from the camera.

"Keptin?" Chekov murmured quietly.

Jim swallowed hard a few times before forcing his dry tongue to move. "S-set?" he lisped. He couldn't manage any more than that, but Chekov understood all the same.

Chekov nodded. "I just hawe to configure the transporters, and then ve're ready at your command, Keptin."

Sounds of footsteps in distance reached their ears and Chekov couldn't help and curl protectively over Jim, even though experience told him not to. It usually just made things worse, but Chekov wasn't sure how much more he could take, seeing his friend being brought back so broken, so damaged. Jim's soul was strong and Chekov could see that in the never-fading bright blues of his eyes, but there was only so much a human body could take before it gave up.

And Jim was quickly reaching that breaking point.

Immense guilt rested heavily in Chekov's stomach. He had always been the "baby" of their small, dysfunctional family, and he had always been aware of the vast gap existed between him and the others. Spock was a genius of his own right; McCoy was a truly gifted doctor – they were the only two that Jim, who stood so brightly over all of them, relied on. To the world and quite possibly the universe, Jim was this extraordinary man whom everyone longed to become. Chekov was no different, but he didn't want Jim's smarts or his amazing fighting prowess. He didn't want his renowned fame or his charming looks. No, Chekov wanted to become someone that everyone relied on, just as everyone counted so heavily on Jim.

Chekov wasn't naive though. He knew how heavy Jim's burdens were, to have the entire universe's expectations resting solely on him. He knew how Jim's past weighed down on his soul. Chekov knew that he couldn't bear as much as Jim could without being completely crushed. All Chekov wanted was to be someone that Jim and the rest of his little family could rely on: to not be coddled and protected; to hold his own place amongst this group of remarkable people who stood so proudly and so high above everyone else.

And all of this? It was Jim protecting him all over again, and he could do absolutely nothing.

He hated himself for it.

Even as beaten as Jim was, he was still sensitive to changes in emotions, and he nudged Chekov's stomach with his head a little. "A'rite?"

Chekov sniffed. "Are you?"

The upper corners of Jim's lips lifted. "Touché."

The footsteps became louder and they knew that they had seconds before men barged into their prison. Jim struggled upwards, as he always did, so he didn't show weakness if he could help it. He managed with Chekov's help, just in time for Hans and his minions to come in.

Each one was carrying an archaic gun – a Glock 9mm, if Jim wanted to be precise. Hans' was holstered at his waist and he stood before Jim with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a taut expression on his face; a certain darkness was coupled with his angry frown.

Jim's instincts were never wrong and as he read Hans' contained fury, he felt a lick of fear touch him and he nervously shot a glance towards Chekov, who was just out of arms reach. It made him incredibly worried.

"Get them up," snapped Hans in German.

His men automatically moved forward, roughly grabbing Jim and Chekov and hauling them to their feet. One man punched Jim in the stomach when he stumbled a little. Jim flinched, but he kept his groan deep within his chest and managed to straighten up to glare at Hans as viciously as he could with a half-bloodied face.

"Captain Kirk," Hans growled. "My patience has worn thin. Tell me the security codes to the Starfleet Headquarters, Captain, or suffer the consequences."

"Fuck off," snarled Jim with as much spite as he could muster up.

"So be it."

Hans nodded at one of his men who raised his gun and pointed it directly at Jim. Jim didn't even react to the weapon and stared defiantly at Hans.

"Do your worst," he hissed.

The gun went off, but Jim didn't feel the familiar flare of pain from a gunshot wound. Confused, he looked around, and what he saw horrified him more than the previous nine days times one hundred combined.

Chekov was staring down at the growing spot of red around his lower right abdomen. He raised his head and looked directly at Jim; his expressions were blank and a little bit befuddled.

"K-keptin?" He dropped to his knees, gasping, as he fell backwards against the wall.

"Chekov!" yelled Jim, and immediately swung around, unable to even contain his wrath. "You agreed to leave him alone!"

"You refused to cooperate and I grow tired of your resistance. Don't worry, Captain Kirk. You will be joining your friend too."

Hans cocked his gun and pointed it at Jim's head, but all Jim could see was Chekov's motionless body and the crimson liquid spreading across the stone cold floor. And then all he could see was a sheen of red.

Lashing out with strength he didn't know he had, he grabbed for the guns of the men holding him. Hans' gun went off, but with inhuman speed, Jim jerked his head to the left, missing the bullet by centimeters. He twisted his hand and ripped the weapons away from the rebels and without hesitation and without mercy, he shot straight through the center of their heads. The Germans dropped down, dead. Swinging around like a windmill, Jim flicked his wrists, shooting the remaining six men through their chests or heads with unerring accuracy that only he could be capable of.

With eyes like fire, Jim raised his guns to face-off with Hans whose expressions were full of terror.

"Will you shoot me, Captain?" sneered Hans, keeping his own weapon at level with Jim's eyes. "Will you dirty your hands with my blood?"

"No. Death is too good for you," Jim said, his voice as cold as ice, as his fingers curled around the triggers.

Shots fired rapidly and Hans fell to the ground with a cry as blood spurted from his wounds. With unerring accuracy, Jim had shot through both of Hans' shoulders, hands, and feet, purposely missing Hans' vital points, but the German would never walk or be able to use his hands again.

Hans rolled on the ground in agony, sobbing as he curled over his wounds, and Jim could only feel hatred towards the man who had hurt Chekov.

"If he's dead or about to die, I will make you wish that you were never born and rip off your skin piece by piece so that when you go to hell, you will still feel the pain and terror forevermore," Jim said in German quietly, but the words were so cold, so full of venom that Hans knew that Jim would carry out his threat if it was the last thing he did.

There was no doubt in Hans' mind that Jim would throw away everything he had – his ship and even his Captaincy to avenge his friend.

Jim turned his back on Hans and fell harshly to his knees, rolling Chekov over with gentleness that he really shouldn't be capable of right now. Chekov moaned, keeping his hands clamped tightly over his wound.

"Let me see it, Chekov," Jim soothed even as tense lines on his face made him look years older.

He tenderly pried Chekov's hands away, all the while whispering words of comfort, "It's okay, Pavel, you're going to be okay," he said over and over again as he inspected Chekov's injury. "You're going to be fine."

It was a thru-and-thru and by some miracle, nothing vital had been torn apart. At this point, the only thing Chekov was in danger of was bleeding out, but it was still a serious wound.

Relief showed obviously on Jim's expressions and allayed Chekov. Seeing that, Jim turned slightly on his heel and reached for the nearest dead man. Though it disgusted him, Jim grabbed for the man's shirt and ripped it off him before wrapping it tightly around Chekov's wound.

Chekov almost whined as Jim tightened the knot, but even though his eyes were clouded by pain, they were still bright and aware.

"K-keptin…ze plan?"

"We're a day ahead of schedule, but it'll work. I'll make it work." Jim's keen ears caught the sounds of footsteps running towards them. The rest of Hans' men must've heard the commotion and had come to investigate.

Jim instantly grabbed both the previously abandoned guns and hefted it up, keeping his body between the door and Chekov. With the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he could barely feel how weakened he truly was, but he knew that he didn't have that much time. He couldn't protect himself and Chekov at the same time, not when both of them were so damaged. His clock was ticking down fast and he knew it, but if he didn't do anything, he and Chekov would be die there in that rat-infested hole. And he was damn sure not going to let that happen, regardless of what happened to him.

He handed one gun to Chekov. "You know how to use this, don't you?"

Chekov nodded, his eyes wide and alarmed.

"I'll be right back. I'll get everything ready and come back for you, okay?"

"N-no, Keptin!" Chekov cried, reaching out to grab Jim's sleeve. "If ve go down, ve go down together!"

Jim smiled softly. "I can't let that happen, Chekov. I promised I'll bring you home, didn't I?"

A hard expression settled onto Chekov's face and he struggled to sit up, despite Jim's protests. With a determined look in his eyes, Chekov grabbed both of Jim's cheeks and spoke resolutely to him. "You promised to bring me back. You, vhich means zat you cannot die here, do you understand me? Ve are going back together. Zere is no other option."

Though surprised at how forceful Chekov was, Jim really should have known that he was going to react this way. Gently, he pulled Chekov's hands away from his face, but he didn't let Chekov go just yet.

"I promise that I'll come back for you and we'll go home. Together," he said softly with a smile that hurt the split lip he was sporting.

"Together," Chekov agreed, raising a pinky.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "A pinky swear? How old are you again?"

"Not as old as you."

Jim chuckled and linked his pinky with Chekov's, sealing their promise.

Lifting one more gun from another dead man, Jim stood and straightened. Even as bloodied and broken as he was, there was still strength left in his bones and it made him a truly terrifying sight.

He stepped over every body without a second glance before sauntering past Hans. He paused, realizing what a danger he still posed to Chekov and changed his mind in a split second. Though he never once looked at the crying German, he lifted his right hand and pressed the trigger. The gunshot echoed in the room.

Hans was dead with a bullet in the skull before he even realized what was happening.

"See you in hell," Jim said quietly before slipping out the dank prison that he had been held captive in for ten fucking days.

This time, he was a free man and thirsting for blood.

Despite the information that Spock had swiped from Komack, he, Sulu, Uhura, Scotty, and McCoy still couldn't get much headway on Jim's and Chekov's location. Spock and Scotty had managed to uncover the trails of Chekov's hacking and discovered the very motel that they had been captured from. There was still dried blood on the floor; broken glass and plastic was everywhere. It was ground zero, but all leads had gone cold from there.

Any signals that the crew discovered were pinged all over the place, never focusing on a single spot. There were indications that Jim and Chekov were in Poland, Russia, Austria, Greece, and the list went on and on. No matter how much they searched, they simply couldn't find their friends, and it was draining all of them. They all knew that the longer Jim and Chekov remained missing, the chances of them being found safely decreased tremendously each day.

It had been nine days since their capture, and they were all beyond themselves with fear and worry.

That was, until Spock's communicator rang shrilly amidst all the chaos, bringing new hope with it.

Jim locked the prison door behind him, knowing full well that no one but Hans had the keys. He could easily pick it when he returned, and at least this way, Chekov had some measure of safety in this fucking hellhole.

He crept silently down the hallway, hearing the footsteps come closer and closer. He shifted and hid himself in the shadows of a corner as four men came running down past him.

Infiltrate and eliminate all the terrorist cells involved. Weapons, information, and persons included. Leave no trace behind. Show no mercy.

Holding his breath, he quickly stepped out and as he exhaled, he fired four times: each bullet buried into the base of the men's skulls. Without even waiting for their bodies to fall, Jim pressed forward, slipping into another room that he knew contained weapons. It was filled with various trinkets: rocket launchers, grenades, guns, phasers, and even bazookas. Grabbing one of the phasers and a communicator from the wall, he pulled out a few wires from each of them, twisting and playing with them until he was satisfied.

He placed the now configured phaser on top of the boxes of grenades before pushing them closer to the other weapons. He attached the reconstructed communicator to the waistband of his sagging pants (Bones was going to scold him about losing so much weight again) and trotted towards the door. Poking his head out to check out his surroundings, he cautiously stepped forward and pressed onward.

If he remembered correctly, there were not that many people at this base: fifty-three to be precise. At least that was all Jim had counted. Hans' group didn't recruit many people – he was a wary man who didn't trust in anyone. The more people that entered his organization, the more chances of being betrayed and sold out. That was why Jim couldn't charm his way into it in the first place. When Hans got wind that he was snooping around, he personally came to investigate and discovered that the one and only Captain James T. Kirk was on their tail.

Then all this shit happened. But at least Jim knew exactly where and who to vent his anger on.

He was cautious to never sound off the alarm – if it did, then Chekov would be placed in danger and make his job all that more difficult. His aim was true and the body count was quickly rising as he made his way around base. In between, he would reconfigure just one weapon in each weapon room, linking it to his 'communicator'. When he was sure that had gotten the majority of the people there, he made his way back to Chekov.

At this point, his vision had started to waver and his muscles ached. Even his fingers were trembling. His nailbeds were bleeding again, throbbing agonizingly after using his hands so much, and his chest hurt from desperately trying to keep his breathing normal. He knew that his body was inches away from giving out on him, but he could still feel the weight of Chekov's pinky against his, and that drove him on.

That weight forced back all the fatigue, pain, and exhaustion that he had, and he once again built up a barrier against his body's protests. It was going to come back and bite him in the ass, but if it got him through all of this, it was going to be worth it, no matter the consequences.

Quietly and quickly, Jim picked the lock and flung open the door to see Chekov slumped against the wall in the same position as Jim had left him.

For a brief second, Jim thought the worst. "Chekov?!" Jim breathed out, fear making his heart stop.

Chekov crinkled his nose and shifted, biting back a groan. "Vhat took you so long?"

Jim almost laughed in relief until he noted that Chekov's words were slurred and his face was so, so pale. He didn't have much longer before he passed out of from blood loss. Jim had to get him Medical help, and now.

"We're getting out. Come on, let's go," Jim said, reaching forward to pull Chekov to his feet.

Chekov wrapped an arm around Jim's shoulders and the two slowly limped their way out towards freedom.

The journey to the center of the base was arduous, but it didn't take quite as long as Jim had thought. He studiously ignored all the bodies that were sprawled all over their path, but Chekov couldn't. There was a mixture of disgust and hatred in his eyes every time they walked past one – Jim wasn't sure if it was directed towards his complete apathy towards them or if Chekov was the type to hold grudges for the experiences that they both went through. Jim was leaning towards the latter, but with his history, he was never sure, and he filed that away to sulk over later.

He had already made sure that the room with the transporters was empty before he lugged Chekov into it. Carefully, he set Chekov onto the pad and ran (in his mind; in actuality, he shuffled) over to the console.

"You didn't have the time to reconfigure this, did you?" Jim called out as his fingers rapidly typed out long sequences into the console.

"No," came Chekov's quiet voice. It was too quiet and it was fading away fast.

At that, Jim's head snapped up and saw Chekov listing towards his side, his eyes fluttering slowly. "Hey! You stay awake, you hear me?! Stay awake, Chekov! That's an order!"

There was a pause, but Chekov visibly tried to pull himself together. "Yes, sir."

"Just a few more seconds, Chekov." He punched something harshly and then white lights were swirling around Chekov.

Alarm spread through Chekov's face when he realized that he was going back alone, and he sat up in panic. "Keptin!"

"I'll be right behind you, Chekov. Just got something to do first," Jim said. He raised his pinky and smiled reassuringly, despite the fact that there was blood dripping down his face. "I made a promise, remember? See you back home."

And then Chekov was gone, sent back onto the Enterprise, because Jim knew that Spock would never leave without him or Chekov, which meant that she was still sitting at the space station with her parking brakes on. By now, most of the crew should have matriculated back on-board. Shore leave was supposed to end in a couple of days and he knew that Medical always came back at least three days ahead of time, which meant that Chekov was in safe hands.

He pressed a few more buttons, to make sure that the transporter itself would implode as soon as he transported and set a timer. Running forward, he leapt onto the pad and felt the familiar lights take apart his molecules. Timing it perfectly, Jim jammed his thumb into the communicator he had on him. In the distance, he could hear explosions erupt with his pre-prepared phaser explosives, decimating whatever and whoever was left in the base.

That was the last thing he heard before the scene before him completely warped to a plain room with white-washed walls. Without looking, he knew that to his right, there was a panel of glass windows, letting bright sunlight stream into the space. It was familiar and spoke of safety and comfort, but Jim didn't have time for that now. He kept his eyes glued at the older man sitting at the desk before him, his entrance still unnoticed.

"Pike," he said without much preamble.

Pike jumped at Jim's voice and when he looked up, all the blood drained from his face and he leapt out of his chair to rush towards Jim. "Jim!" he gasped, "My god, what happened to you?! How…?!"

Jim just shook his head, batting off Pike's supporting hands. "You can debrief me later. Call off the search for me. Where's Komack?"

"What? Komack? He's in his office. Jim, you need to go to Medical."

"After." Jim abruptly turned on his heel and marched out of Pike's office with Pike at his heels.

Vaguely, Jim could hear Pike calling Spock as he moved quickly through the hallways. He was probably quite a sight to see – a decorated Captain roaming through the halls of Starfleet headquarters half-naked and with clear signs of being tortured to an inch of his life. Everyone instantly moved out of his way and stared with their eyes popping out, but he paid no attention to them. He had probably another five minutes before his body collapsed on him and he needed to get something off his chest first while he could.

He had a bone to pick with Komack. The man was going to regret putting Chekov and his crew in danger, even if it was the last thing Jim ever did.

Back on the Bridge of the Enterprise, Spock, Scotty, Sulu, and McCoy were working through their data concerning Jim and Chekov when Spock's communicator rang. The Vulcan almost dropped it with his trembling hands when Pike's strained voice came through telling them that Jim was back.

"Jim just transported himself into my office," said Pike, just as Uhura came running in, exclaiming, "Chekov's back onboard! He's just been moved to Medical."

Relief and happiness made Scotty sag into a chair while the rest of them breathed for the first time since their capture.

Spock's communicator crackled to life again, making their hearts stop once again. "Spock, bring McCoy. He looks bad."

McCoy snatched Spock's communicator and was already sprinting towards the turbolift with the rest of them at his heels. "Get him to stay still until I get there. Don't let him run around or do anything stupid."

"Too late. He's making his way to Komack."

"What the hell?! Stop him!"

"I would if I could!" snapped Pike, "Fucking brat can still move faster than me all bloodied and beaten…Just get your asses down here." And then he hung up.

By then, McCoy, Spock, and Sulu were already standing on the transporter pad, and Scotty was quickly tapping in the coordinates to transport them directly in front Komack's office.

Lights swirled around them and when they landed, they immediately burst into Komack's office.

And what they saw floored them.

It was a sight that they would never forget.

With a loud bang, Jim threw open Komack's door and stormed forward, slamming his bloody hand onto his desk, almost whacking the man on his nose. The Admiral was unfazed by Jim's actions. In fact, angry crept across his face – first appearing as a flush across the back of his round neck. And then he raised his head. His jaw dropped as he saw Jim's appearance.

Jim was covered from head to toe with blood that was both his and someone else's. His bruises had yet to fade and were a dark purple, spreading across the span of his torso. Fresh cuts decorated his skin; there were even lacerations on his face, coupled with a black eye and a bloody nose. Marks left from the cattle prods and electrodes remained at select areas of his upper body. Behind him, Pike could see the crisscross whip marks on his muscled back, spreading all the way to his hips. His breathing was uneven, but the steel in his blue eyes was still the same as ever.

"Kirk, what the hell are you doing here?!" Komack exclaimed, standing up, "Pike, why isn't this boy in Medical?!"

"Leave him out of this, Admiral," Jim snarled. "This is between you and me. Now shut up and sit down."

"Be careful of what you say next, Kirk," growled Komack, "You're damn close to insubordination, Captain."

Jim leaned forward, his expression threatening and terrifying at the same time. "Sit. Down," he hissed.

Never before had Jim ever bared his teeth against his superiors, even at their most frustrating moments, and to see Jim like this scared the hell out of Komack. For the first time, he finally understood that it wasn't that the Admiralty had control over the wild and infamous James T. Kirk –they only had control because Kirk had allowed it. But now? Komack always feared a loose cannon, especially one in the form of Kirk, and here he was before him now.

Komack gulped as he slowly sank back into his seat. "I assume you're here because you carried out your mission?" he asked, his voice meek.

At this point, Jim's world had narrowed to see Komack and Komack alone. He didn't even register the fact that Spock, Bones, and Sulu had skidded into the room, completely awestruck at the sight before them. "You should be getting reports of an unexplainable explosion that decimated and killed an entire terrorist cell on your desk in the next few hours. Don't investigate. There's nothing left. But that's not why I'm here, Admiral." Jim spat out Komack's title with immense disdain before continuing.

"Admiral, over the last five years, you have taken advantage of my skill sets and sent me on missions that I should never have been a part of. My life has been in more danger under your command than my entire career thus far combined. While I agreed to participate in these missions – under your constant threats, mind you – I was fine with completing them because I knew there was a greater good in every single one. But you, sir, have crossed a goddamn line."

Jim angrily pointed an accusing finger at Komack's face. "You do not get to put my crew in danger. It doesn't matter if you think it's fucking necessary to complete missions at all cost. You do not get to play with my crew's lives. Sending out Chekov to me when you knew that everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket was the last straw, Komack, and you can be damn sure that I'll find some way to make you pay for it."

"You dare to threaten me?! I am your immediate superior!" roared Komack, his pride unable to take Jim's domineering presence.

"NOT ANYMORE!" roared Jim as he loudly slammed his fist down onto the desk, silencing Komack instantly. He paused to catch his breath before cocking his head slightly. "You remember that little deal we made before I agreed to take on this last mission? Once I completed it, which I did, you agreed to relinquish your hold of the Enterprise to Pike and leave me and my crew alone. You remember that? Because if you don't, I have a video recording that Starfleet would be more than happy to investigate for me."

Jim leaned over, speaking lowly and viciously. "You don't get to put my crew in danger for your own selfish agendas anymore, Komack. And I swear to God, if you even try to lay one fucking finger one any one of them again, you can bet your ass that I'm coming for you."

Komack smirked. "You can't touch me, Kirk."

"You're a fucking moron. Who do you think Starfleet is going to choose? You, who's a fucking useless fodder that doesn't know his place, or me, the savior of the entire fucking universe? I think your chances are getting slimmer as your belt notches increase, and that's exactly what you're afraid of, isn't it? That some young new Captain is going to come and steal your thunder and take away all that you've worked for? Well, I've got some news for you: it's already happened! You can either continue to try to make my life miserable or you can make things easier on you and just leave me the hell alone!"

"I don't give a damn about prestige or taking over your position. I don't give a damn whether or not I'm a goddamn puppet to you all. What I do care about is my crew. They're my family and I'm not losing that again. So, this is me telling you nicely to back to the fuck off, or you'll see exactly what I'm capable of."

Komack hesitated, but it was in his nature to fight back to his last breath. "I'm not afraid of you, Kirk."

Jim just smiled darkly. "Yes you are. You wouldn't be sending me on all those suicidal missions if you weren't."

Komack suppressed a shiver and pulled out his PADD, scribbling something on it before turning it around to show Jim. "The Enterprise now officially reports to Admiral Pike and you will no longer be commissioned to complete missions that are not directly given to you by Pike. Are you satisfied now?"

Jim straightened. "Very." He started to turn, but stopped at the last minute. "Oh, by the way, Chekov was shot and severely injured during his time of captivity. I expect you to find a way to compensate for all the mental and physical the man needlessly went through."

Anger flashed through Komack's eyes, but Jim just coldly stared him down. "Fine, I'll see to it," snarled Komack. "Now get the hell out of my office, Kirk!"

Jim snorted and gave a mock bow, ignoring how it killed his ribs to do so. "It'd be my pleasure," he responded, his words heavy with caustic derision.

And he strode away from Komack with great satisfaction, though he let a moment of surprise show on his face when he saw Spock, Bones, and Sulu standing next to Pike. All of them (except for Spock, of course) had matching expressions of awe, horror, and shock. Their eyes were almost bugging out and Jim couldn't resist, despite the increasing feeling of fatigue and pain.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" he quipped as they all stepped out of Komack's office, letting the door slam behind them.

"Uh…a little more than 'something'…" Sulu responded.

"Jim, what the hell happened?!" Bones exclaimed as he stepped in front of Jim.

Good ol' Bones already had his tricorder out and was scanning him. Nothing good was going to show up, but Jim felt all snuggly at the familiar antics of his best friend. Or maybe that giddiness was just a sign of him about to lose consciousness…that seemed just as likely.

"We searched the entire planet for you, Jim. Where were you?" Spock asked, all his concern shining through his brown eyes.

Jim's barriers against his pain were crumbling quickly. Already, he could feel all his muscles threatening spasm painfully again. He could barely hear Spock over the dull roar in his ears.

"Son, you alright?" Pike questioned gently, reaching out to light touch Jim's shoulder.

The sharp pain of that seemingly innocuous gesture made everything worse. Jim swallowed harshly, blinking away the dark edges of his vision. "Guys, I know you have a lot of questions, and I would love to answer them, but I've just spent ten days being tortured and I'm still bleeding all over the floor. I would really appreciate some drugs, a bed, and a nice long sleep, preferably in that order. And none of that Starfleet Medical shit. They'll just give me something that I'm allergic to and kill me faster."

Bones sucked in a sharp breath as he remembered the last hellish nine days, thinking the worst of Jim's fate. "Don't you dare say that, Jim."

The world swirled nauseatingly and blackened rapidly. Jim had finally reached his limit, and he knew that he was in deep trouble.

"Then…" His tongue and the rest of his body felt so numb (and that was wrong, wrong, wrong). "Then you better keep me alive, Bones."

And he crumbled into Spock and Sulu's outstretched arms.

McCoy's tricorder finally pinged out the results and like Pike before him, all the color drained from his face.

"Doctor?!" Spock almost shouted out as he felt Jim's life slipping away like water through his fingers.

"Get him back on the Enterprise, Spock! NOW!"

Spock didn't need any other urging and whipped out his communicator, calling for immediate beam-up directly to Medbay. Lights swirled around Spock, Jim, McCoy, and Sulu, leaving Pike alone.

"Spock, please keep me updated," Pike pleaded, the worry and fear for his surrogate son making him seem years older in an instant.

Spock only had time to nod before they were gone.

Pike could only close his eyes and pray to a God he didn't believe in, begging for Jim's life.

And then there was nothing he could do but wait ever so fearfully.

The next few hours were a blur. Jim was brought back onboard to the Enterprise, clinging to life. He had developed pneumonia from the dirty water that he was waterboarded in and that, combined with the various infections from his uncleaned and untreated cuts and lacerations, had sent him spiraling into septic shock. Despite McCoy pumping fluids through his veins, replacing the poison in his blood, he still had respiratory distress and his heart pumped abnormally. A few minutes onto the surgery table, Jim flat-lined and McCoy was forced to open Jim up to keep his organs from failing.

That surgery took twelve hours and it was three blood transfusions later before Jim was stable, but still critical. They even ran out of blood halfway and almost all of the crew members who had the same type as him had come forward to donate for their Captain, including both Scotty and Sulu.

Jim was placed into a completely sterile room because with the sepsis, he was now more susceptible to new infections. With how weak he was, another complication would more than likely kill him. He was attached to several machines that kept his organs functionally normally, including a respirator to alleviate some of the difficulties caused by the pneumonia. IV bags filled with a broad and strong spectrum of antibiotics, fluids, and strong painkillers that acted as sedatives were constantly pumped through his systems to combat the sepsis and his fever. McCoy had then put on a hazmat suit to run the dermal and bone-regenerator on the superficial wounds. It took more than five hours – a testament to how truly wounded Jim was.

He was forbidden visitors until all the infections cleared up, not that he minded. He was unconscious for the entirety of the time he was locked up in his "bubble" – a total of two and a half weeks. But he still refused to or simply couldn't wake up after he was wheeled into 'his' area of the Medbay. His body was healing slowly, but he was far from out of the woods.

By then, Chekov had already been healed and was on his feet, alternating between his quarters and Jim's bedside. He had stopped speaking and it was clear that guilt was eating the young man from the inside out, but there was no one that could comfort him. The only one that could was lying on a Biobed, completely unaware of the conscious world, so they let him be, but they always did make sure that he was never alone.

The rest of the crew on the Enterprise felt the loss of their Captain and Navigator's presence acutely. There was hardly any laughter anymore; no smiles, no brightness. It just didn't feel right when one of them was practically on his deathbed not too long ago.

Jim's condition and Chekov's silence weighed heavily on the Command crew. Sulu lost all interest in fencing and buried himself into his research of plants when he wasn't with Chekov; Scotty lost his appetite and spent a lot of his time sitting next to Chekov and Jim, staring blankly at the ceiling. Uhura would come around to try and coax the two to eat, especially because the starvation had made Chekov lose more than thirteen pounds. She would also read to Jim from old Terran classics, like Count of Monte Cristo and The Hobbit. Sometimes, she would bring out old Vulcan poetry and let the foreign words roll over her tongue to comfort herself too, but there were times when she would have to set down the books that she had borrowed from Jim's collection and leave before she burst into tears in front of the entire ship.

Spock reverted to his Vulcan side and grew distant from everyone, focusing solely on his work and research. Never before had he been more efficient, and that was saying something because he was usually one hundred percent perfect. McCoy, on the other hand, physically fell into complete disarray. He didn't shave and barely slept, leaving behind dark bags under his eyes and a constant worn out look. He still treated patients, but oftentimes, he let Nurse Chapel or Dr. M'Benga to deal with it. He spent just as much time as Chekov by Jim's side, probably more because he practically lived in the Medbay.

One day during those horrible two and a half weeks, while both Chekov and McCoy were both sleeping at Jim's bedside, Uhura had quietly come up to stroke Jim lovingly on his cheek. "You need to wake up soon, Captain. Your crew needs you. Come back to us, Kirk. Please."

But like before, Jim's eyes had remained closed.

She had sighed and bent down to kiss Jim's forehead before she slipped away, her heart heavy.

Jim just slept on.

It was three weeks and three days since Jim and Chekov escape before McCoy declared Jim completely stable and on the way to recovery.

Two days later, Jim finally opened his eyes, but those blues were cloudy and closed almost immediately. Everyone panicked a little, even Spock, but McCoy reassured them that it was normal for someone who had such taxing injuries to stay awake for a long time. The first words out of his mouth were: "Is Chekov okay?" McCoy wanted to slap him and Chekov wanted to sob, but he was back asleep before anyone could do anything.

It took another two days before Jim was able to stay coherent long enough for a decent conversation. It was another three days before Jim was strong enough to sit up on his own. The color had returned to his cheeks and his eyes sparkled like before. Even better, Jim never seemed to stop smiling, especially when Chekov was around. That smile was contagious and it spread through the entire ship.

Laughter returned and people started breathing again, but Chekov's smiles still dropped whenever he thought Jim wasn't looking at him.

"Chekov," Jim had suddenly said one day when the two of them were alone (though he knew that Bones was hovering around somewhere).

"Yes?"

"Don't blame yourself for what happened to me, Chekov. It wasn't your fault and there was nothing you could've done to stop it. I've been in your position, Chekov. I know how helpless you can feel and I know how much you wish that our roles have been reversed. There's nothing that could have changed what happened. Consider it my own stubbornness to have things play out the way they did, and I'm sorry that you had to suffer, but don't ever think that you were useless. If it wasn't for you, I don't think I could've made it out of there alive, so thank you."

Chekov had nearly stuttered out the "You're welcome," out of confusion because the guilt was still there, heavy in his stomach.

Jim just smiled. "It'll take time, but you'll come to terms with this. For now, just remember that you are indispensible to me and I owe so much to you."

"I owe you!" Chekov blurted out.

"Then call us even," Jim said back, closing his eyes as fatigue reared its ugly head.

He was asleep before Chekov could even protest more. How was any of this "even"?! Jim was lying so sick and wounded while Chekov was pretty much free of even a paper cut. Chekov found himself more upset than before, but it was as Jim said: slowly and over time, Chekov did come to terms with what happened. He would never forget it and the guilt would never fully disappear, but he understood Jim's underlying meaning that day. If he felt helpless, then he would just have to make sure that he would never feel that way again. He would have to become stronger and overcome this trauma. It would take time, but one day in the far future, Chekov knew that he would be just as strong as Jim; it just didn't have to be today.

And that single thought pulled Chekov out of his dark thoughts and it seemed that all was right with the world, or at least it soon would be.

Exactly one month from the Komack Fiasco, as Jim called it, Jim had finally been allowed back to his quarters and his Command crew was there waiting for him with bright smiles on their faces.

Jim grinned at them as Bones gently guided him to his bed and tucked him in like the mother hen he was. He even fluffed up Jim's pillows so that he could sit up comfortably. Jim chuckled at his antics and waved him away, "Sit down, Bones. I'm fine."

And he was. He was as weak as a newborn babe and needed Bones' help to even make the short trip to the bathroom, but he could at least walk now. There was still a bit of soreness in his muscles (courtesy of some nerve damage that was healing slowly) and he easily lost his breath (thanks to that bitch, pneumonia). His nails had almost fully grown back too; Jim was pretty excited to get off the damn bandages that were on each of his fingers. There were some physical scars left and his damaged shoulder was going to be more susceptible to injuries in the future, but he was close to being a hundred percent again.

Bones huffed at his flippant response and plopped down on a chair next to Jim, crossing his arms. The rest settled down on Jim's floor (not wanting to jostle him by sitting on his bed), getting ready for what they started calling "Q&A sessions with the ingenious idiot".

Jim, of course, was well aware of this new-founded tradition and spread his hands in a sign of openness. "Well, who wants to start?"

"I'd like to know why you didn't tell me about this mission, you moron," muttered Bones.

"I'd like to know when you started taking missions and why the hell you were still taking them!" Sulu cut in, overshadowing McCoy's question. "You're the Captain of Starfleet' flagship!"

Jim shrugged. "Well, Komack's a jackass who likes to use people. He was afraid of me gaining too much power and usurping him, so he liked to play me like a puppet just to prove to himself that he could."

"But you didn't have to go along with it!"

"He threatened to expel me from the Academy when I was a student, so I didn't really have much of a choice then. Later, he threatened either Pike or me directly and I couldn't really find a reason to say no. Regardless of his methods, Komack's missions saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives. It was supposed to stop when I gained Captaincy, but I made a deal with him to take one last mission."

"Because he threatened us?" prompted Spock.

Jim frowned. "How did you know that?"

Bones rolled his eyes. "We were there when you chewed out Komack's ass, genius."

"Which was damn awesome, by the way," added Sulu.

"Oh. Right." A dopey smile spread across Jim's face as he remembered the incident. He had to admit, that had felt so good.

"Why didn't you tell us about this?" asked Uhura, her tone tinged with anger. "You can't keep hiding these like this from us!"

Jim just shrugged, having had given the same speech to Bones so many years ago when all this started out. "I would have if I could have, but I would have been written up insubordination, treason, or whatever. Komack made it very clear that only the very top and I could know, and I kind of get it. Most of the missions I get sent on tends to lean towards the shadier side of Starfleet that no one wants to know about. If word got out that Starfleet was behind any of the things that I did, I'm pretty sure a whole bunch of wars would start. Hence, the utmost secrecy, but if I had the choice, I would have told you guys. I almost did. Why else do you think I left in such a hurry?"

"Why did McCoy know an' we don' then?" frowned Scotty.

"I didn't know about this one," retorted McCoy angrily.

Jim gave Bones a strained look, knowing full well that that was going to come up sooner or later, but he didn't have to address it now. "He didn't really get a choice in the matter. Back in the Academy, I came back from a mission pretty messed up, but I knew I couldn't go to the hospital or they'll just ask questions, so I figured that I would clean myself up and went home. I forgot that Bones was home too and well, let's just say I made a very persuasive argument to Komack to not make Bones disappear, so he kind of had to stick around."

"I was told that I did not have the clearance to be privy to the details of your mission, Jim. I was under the assumption that, due to my unique standing between the Vulcan's High Council and Starfleet, we had the same clearance," Spock commented.

Jim grinned at Spock's statement-question. "I guess you're not as special as you think you are, Spock," he joked, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. "That doesn't bother you, does it? That I have a higher clearance than you?"

"That is illogical." If Spock was human, he would've sniffed and then pouted until someone took pity on him.

Jim chuckled. "I only have higher clearance because of Komack and the fact that I'm a Tarsus survivor. Don't worry. You're still loved by Starfleet, Spock."

Spock definitely did not pout at that, but it was damn close.

"So what happened?" asked Uhura, saving Spock from eternal humiliation, "Where were you? We couldn't find any trace of the two of you."

"I was minding my own business in Germany when Chekov comes knocking on my door. At this point, I'm already expecting company and Komack goes and plays Chekov into my hand, so we were both captured and held in a cell with video surveillance. I got tortured, Chekov got shot, we broke out, and I blew up the place. That's pretty much the gist of it. You probably couldn't find us because they had a DRFM system that threw all your data off."

"You escaped on your own volition, did you not, Jim?" asked Spock.

"I had more than enough incentive," Jim responded, his jaw tightening as he thought about Chekov bleeding on the ground.

"Why didn' ye escape earlier then?" questioned Scotty.

"The parameters of my mission were to decimate the terrorist cell and everything they had even dipped their fingers in. I needed to gather more intel and break down whatever support the branches had so that they could never recover. To do that, I needed time, and the only way to do that was to stay an extra few days."

Jim ignored Bones' violent flinch to his nonchalance and he knew that he was going to get an earful about it later, but for now, he and the others were more interested in getting answers. "I stalled for time and while they were 'busy' with me, Chekov snuck around and hacked into all their databases, deleting bank accounts, information, and pretty much anything that made them exist."

Spock raised his eyebrow. "How could he have 'snuck around'? You mentioned that you were both under video surveillance."

"They didn't deem Chekov as a threat, so when I was out, there was a lull in security involving our cell. No one paid attention to him because they were all so worried about what I would do, so I told Chekov to hack into the feeds and create a loop whenever I left the cell. I taught him how to pick locks and was sure to stall for at least one hour every day so he could do what he needed to. And the rest you already know."

When they looked at him incredulously, Jim just shrugged again. "I'm a genius strategist, remember? I play the cards I'm dealt. I happened to be lucky enough to have Chekov with me. I don't think I could've pulled any of that off without him."

Chekov blushed and Jim beamed at it.

"Aw! I made him blush!"

Laughter filled the air, but it was interrupted by Jim's sudden coughing that transformed into an uncontrollable fit. McCoy was immediately up, pressing a hypospray to his neck. Almost instantaneously, Jim's tightened expressions relaxed and his coughing stopped. He sagged back against his pillows, eyes closing as he sighed immeasurably.

"Doctor?" Spock questioned quietly.

All of them had stood up in alarm, but froze in place simply because they didn't know what to do.

"He's fine," McCoy responded, "He just needs some rest. We can pick this up another time."

The polite dismissal was clear in his words and tone and they easily acquiesced, exiting without another word.

When the door closed behind them, McCoy let out a sigh and returned back Jim's bedside. While his back was turned, Jim had slid down the bulk of pillows and was now lying on his side, his head close to the edge of the bed, nearest to his chair. Though Jim's eyes were closed, Bones knew that he was still awake, but he was in the midst of drifting off to sleep.

Bones walked over to the other side of Jim and settled down, leaning against the headboard and stretching out his legs. He waited patiently for Jim to fight between his pride and the need for the physical comfort that Bones knew he always wanted after near-death experiences – especially when it was so close this time around. Bones wasn't even sure if Jim needed the comfort more or if he did.

It took a few minutes, but Jim rolled over and nudged his head against Bones' thigh. Bones smiled and started to run his fingers through Jim's hair – it was a comforting gesture that he knew Jim absolutely loved.

"Why didn't you tell me about this mission, Jim?" he asked quietly.

Jim hummed a little before he answered in a sleepy voice. "You were with Joanna. Didn't want to interrupt."

"You promised that you would always tell me about these things." The hurt was unveiled in Bones' words, and Jim still wasn't too far gone to not pick up on it.

"'m sorry," he mumbled, burying his face into the sheets. "I didn't want to come between you and your family."

"Moron. How many times do I have to tell you that you're family too? I love you just as much as I love Joanna, you damn brat."

Jim's hand reached over and grasped Bones' pants for a brief second before letting go, and Bones just smiled at how that little gesture spoke volumes. It was Jim's odd way of showing how much he truly cared for Bones, and that was enough for the both of them.

Jim shifted closer, moving so that he rested his head on Bones' thigh.

Bones sighed. "Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a pillow, you damn cat."

But Jim was already asleep, his words falling on deaf ears.

McCoy leaned his head back and closed his eyes, comforted by the feel of his best friend's steady pulse beneath his fingers. He knew his back was going to protest him sleeping sitting up tomorrow, but he couldn't find it in himself to move.

He guessed, in the end, the two of them were simply a pair of idiots, ingenious or not, but he was too content with having his best friend back where he belonged to really care about the semantics for once.

They were home, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

X

Skeletons in the Closet

Riverside, Iowa. It was a never-ending swirling sink of misery, pain, and memories that should have long been pushed into the past. It spoke of loneliness and a coldness that only abandonment could bring about.

Jim never thought that he would ever return there. When he boarded the shuttle to San Francisco so many years ago, he had sworn that he would never look back. As the desolate farmland disappeared behind him, so did the chains of hatred and anger that held him there and he finally got to breathe for the first time. It took a while, but he finally found himself an amazing surrogate family and a true purpose to his life. No longer was he a shadow of his father or the whipping boy of a drunk. He was Captain James Tiberius Kirk, officer of Starfleet - not a scared, abused little boy that always wished to that the stars would take him away like it did to his father and whatever childhood he should have had.

He had pushed all those memories down, shrugging them aside like a pesky bug on his shoulder. He deflected and twisted out of its grasps, telling himself that he had already moved on. Frank was only in his nightmares - nothing more, nothing less. But deep, deep down, Jim knew that he was merely running. He was running farther and farther into the darkness with tears and sweat dripping down his face, because he knew that the moment he stopped - the moment he tried to take a breath - was going to be when his past caught up to him with its sharp claws, digging and cutting until he was bleeding profusely with nothing to stop it.

So when Jim read the small scribbles across his PADD one day while on the Bridge, he felt his heart stop and a cold chill run down his spine. Numbly, he scrolled through the words and he felt his stomach twist violently. The large, ropey scar across his lower back - courtesy of a particularly violent event in his twisted childhood - throbbed psychosomatically, and the PADD slipped through his fingers to clatter loudly on the floor.

Instantly, his Command crew turned around to stare at him in an odd mixture of confusion, exasperation, and concern. When they saw how pale Jim's face had become - as if he had seen a ghost - alarm rang through them.

"Captain, are you alright?" asked Spock, standing up and approached him.

Jim exhaled and shakily ran his hand over his face, smoothing over his frightened expression to something more akin to exhaustion. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."

The crew gave him a questioning look, but when Jim refused to make contact with them, they dubiously returned to their work, relying on Spock, as usual, to ascertain their Captain's well being.

Jim chewed on his bottom lip and fidgeted, well aware of Spock's gaze upon him. He could sense Spock's growing curiosity and debated satisfying it. For as long as he could remember, he had relied solely on himself - sharing feelings only led to misery and pain. He was used to quashing down all emotions and dealing with things on his own. Even now, his first instincts screamed at him to go "lone wolf", but he wasn't alone anymore. His crew had made that very clear so many times.

Habits were hard to break, but Jim had to start somewhere. Shyly, Jim stretched his arm out towards Spock, his palm facing the ceiling with his eyes wide and exposed - it was an open invitation for Spock into his private thoughts.

A spark of warmth erupted deep in Spock's chest. For Jim to trust him so deeply to allow him to use his touch telepathy on a clearly personal matter, it meant more than Spock could possibly describe.

Spock slowly reached out to place his own hand in Jim's and instantly a torrent of images flashed into his mind. Ones of little James crying and cowering from a raised hand, of James lying unconscious from a beating and bleeding from cuts, of burns of cigarettes on his small, white arm. The barrage almost floored Spock and he struggled to find his own feet amidst it all, but before he could, Jim had already neatly swiped away the memories, leaving behind an unusual calm, blue lake that was rapidly being tinged black.

"Sorry about that," Jim's voice broke through, his words rippling in the water. "I thought I had a better grasp of my memories. Didn't mean to overwhelm you like that."

Spock was more concerned than overwhelmed now. "Do you need assistance in strengthening your shields, Jim?"

"No, they're fine. I was just taken by surprise is all."

Jim sent more images of what he had just read to Spock and as he laid everything out, he could feel a growing anger from the Vulcan transfer to him. He broke off the connection there, gently pulling his arm away. There were already too many emotions running amok within him; he couldn't handle someone else's right now, even if they weren't directly towards him.

"We'll have to go," he said out loud, the suddenness of his words drawing the attention of his crew once again.

Spock shook his head, his eyes dark. "I do not believe that that is wise."

"Tough. We're doing this, Spock."

"We're doing what?" asked Sulu, spinning around to look at them with confusion.

"We've been ordered to make a quick pitstop in Riverside, Iowa, for repairs," Jim answered, bending down to grab his PADD. "Sulu, set course. What's our approximate arrival time?"

Sulu's fingers clacked against his console. "Two days and four hours," he answered.

"Good. Uhura, let Scotty know the change in plans. Spock, you have the conn. I'll be in Medical if anyone needs me."

"Are you alright, sir?" frowned Chekov, almost rising out of concern.

Jim flashed him a smile. "I'm fine. I just have to go over some technicalities with Bones."

He rose to leave, and Spock took a step towards him. Jim raised a hand and squared his shoulders, making him seem taller and stronger than he was before. "I'm fine, Spock. I promise. I'll see you later."

And then he was gone, leaving behind frowns and confusion.

"What was that all about?" asked Sulu.

Uhura rolled her eyes. "You're daft, aren't you?"

"Hey!"

"Hikaru, ve're stopping in Riverside," said Chekov, as if it explained everything.

It didn't. Sulu shrugged, "So? That's where the Enterprise was built. It makes sense that we'd stop by there sooner or later."

"Jim was raised in Riverside, Iowa, until he was approximately twelve years old, Mr. Sulu," Spock answered, "At least ten of those years was spent with his stepfather."

The color drained from Sulu's face as he remembered the vague stories of Jim's past with the abusive Frank. "Oh."

"'Oh' is correct, Mr. Sulu." Spock stared out into the vast darkness, seeing flashes of Jim's past flitter before him. "'Oh' is correct..."

The doors to McCoy's office whooshed open, but he didn't hear any footsteps entering. By that, he knew without even looking up from his paperwork that it was Jim. That man could be as silent as cat when he wanted to, despite being so rambunctious usually. Back at the Academy, McCoy had been surprised out of his wits by Jim's skills many times and he had learned to expect the unexpected from Jim, but he simply didn't have the time for Jim's shenanigans at the moment. Leonard had gotten extremely far behind with his paperwork, thanks to Jim and his constant distractions (not that McCoy was complaining all that much. Jim was his best friend after all), and was trying desperately to keep his head above the water.

"What do you want, Jim? I'm busy," McCoy grouched as he roughly signed off on a document, but there was no heat in his words.

McCoy sensed Jim settling down in the chair before him. There was a long moment of silence, which raised a red flag immediately. Jim didn't like the quiet and he never was unless something was wrong.

As if he knew exactly what McCoy was thinking, Jim almost absentmindedly said quietly, "Our next stop is Riverside."

Instantly, all of Bones' movements stopped and he looked up in horror at Jim. Jim merely nodded from where he sat, his posture tense and stiff.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Orders just came in."

Bones knew better than to ask if Jim was okay. He knew his friend well enough to know when to not push. "Do you have to beam down?"

"Hmm. Probably not."

"You're going to anyway, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Masochist."

"Not all of my history in Riverside was bad. I met Pike there, you know."

"Of course I know. I was on that shuttle with you."

"Where you puked on me."

Bones pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, where I puked on you. You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope." Jim almost smiled at that. Almost.

McCoy paused, reading his friend's body language with slight confusion. The expression on Jim's face was strained, yet determined; there was no sign of fear or apprehension either. All Bones could see was slight distress and a sort of resolution in Jim's blue eyes.

He frowned. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

Jim tapped his nose.

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"When do you ever like my plans?"

Bones groaned and really considered face-planting onto his desk. "And to think that I thought I was going to have a good day..."

"Yeah..." Jim murmured as he looked into the distance with a faraway glimmer in his blue eyes. "Same here..."

The next two days passed in a blur. Jim sat at his chair and completed his duties, but it was as if he was a puppet and was moving around the ship mechanically. He smiled and chatted like usual, yet, his friends could feel him pulling away at the same time. It was just like Jim to be such a conundrum - not that anyone could fault him for it.

Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty knew parts of what happened to Jim when he lived with Frank. They didn't know all of it, but they knew enough to know that if they ever saw Frank, they would not let him off easy. But Jim never once spoke of his stepfather. Where he was, what he was doing, or even if he was alive was a complete mystery. And no one could find it in themselves to ask.

Jim had never let on the inclination that Frank was still in Riverside, but he had definitely shown clear reluctance to return to his hometown, even though he had never said it out loud. There were too many memories and too many tears spilt there. It was the place where Jim was neglected by his mother, abused by his stepfather, and abandoned by his brother. Why he ever returned in the first place in time for Pike to scout him was an enigma.

There was only one thing that could draw Jim back to Riverside and that was his ship. The Enterprise had been built in that town and it was the best possible place for her to get maintenance. After all the missions she had gone on with her ingenious and possibly insane Captain, she desperately needed care that only Riverside could provide.

No matter how Jim felt about Riverside, he could not deny the Enterprise the trip.

It didn't mean that he had to like it.

Jim could feel a jitteriness shaking his bones, making him feel like he needed to pace back and forth until he had worn a hole into the ground. He ran his fingers through his hair for the eighth time in the last five minutes as he stood in the corner of the bustling bar, nursing a half empty glass of whiskey.

Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura were laughing at something a few feet away from him; Spock was watching them with slight amusement in his eyes from where he sat next to Jim. Bones and Scotty were deep in debate regarding what alcohol was the best. Despite all of them doing their own thing, Jim could feel their side glances towards him and their subconscious rotation around him.

Not for the first time, Jim wished that he was back onboard his precious girl and listening to her hums than joining his Command crew for a quick drink at the very bar in Riverside that he had met Uhura. They had almost begged Jim to join them, not wanting to leave their Captain all alone where they were sure he was going to drown himself in his dark thoughts. Jim would never say it out loud, but he could never refuse his friends anything, so here he was, down in Riverside for the first time in five years.

Someone nudged him and Jim looked up in surprise to see Bones nod at his glass. "You want another?"

Jim's self-defense mechanism instantly kicked in without his bidding. A smirk spread across his face, "Why Bones, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to get me drunk. Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?"

"I did, you ungrateful brat," Bones huffed back, completely unfazed. "Here." He shoved Jim's favorite beer into his hand. "Drink."

"Eloquent," Jim snarked before drinking a few gulps. He noticed Spock's eyes looking at him. "Spock, I know I'm gorgeous, but you don't need to stare."

Spock would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't part Vulcan, especially when Bones snorted in laughter. He was about to answer when another man behind them interrupted.

"Hello, James. Fancy seeing you here again."

The smile instantly dropped off Jim's face. That deep, condescending voice was one that Jim would never forget. It haunted his nightmares and followed him everywhere like a shadow that was threatening to swallow him whole.

Jim stiffened, his entire posture frozen. His face was wiped unusually clean, but had turned as white as freshly fallen snow. He hid the tremble in his hands well, but McCoy and Spock easily spotted it and they automatically started shifting to comfort their friend.

His crew immediately noticed the sudden change in dynamics and all subconsciously mimicked their Captain's body language, freezing as well and watching their surroundings warily. Jim behaving oddly usually meant that danger was hovering over their heads.

Slowly, Jim turned around to eye the man that was behind him. The older man - leaning towards his mid-fifties - had a head full of short, crew-cut grayish hair. The lines on his face were clear, speaking loudly of his age. A scar cut through his right eyebrow; another was just above his upper lip, disfiguring it slightly. He wore a dirty plain, grey long-sleeved shirt with jeans that had white paint splattered all over. It had been years since Jim last saw him, and he had buffed up quite a bit. His beer gut was long gone, replaced by well-built muscles that made his arms bulge from his shirt. Even his defined torso could be seen through his clothing.

Jim suppressed the urge to shiver and kept his poker face up. Coldly, he raised his chin, drawing himself up to his full height, which (to his pleasure) was a couple of inches taller than the man.

Venom dripped in Jim's voice as he spoke. "Hello, Frank."

That name sent sparks of burning hot anger within Jim's Command crew. Instantly, as soon as they got over the shock of Frank appearing before them, they surrounded him, stepping in closer as if they could shield Jim from his stepfather. Spock and Sulu were closest to Frank, ready to take him down in case he posed a threat. McCoy, on the other hand, sided against Jim, pressing the length of the side of his arm next to Jim's - physically grounding the younger man.

"I hear you've become some big-shot nowadays. Didn't think someone with your record could get into the 'fleet," drawled Frank.

Jim had to work to stop himself from flinching. "And I didn't think that someone like you would live up until now. Thought you were rotting in some corner with the rest of the garbage."

"What was that, boy?" growled Frank, stepping forward ominously.

Jim didn't even react, knowing full well how safe he was among his overly protective crew. Before Frank even completed his one step, Spock was already between Frank and Jim with Scotty and Sulu right beside him.

"Sir, I advise you back away," Spock said lowly.

Frank ignored Spock and addressed Jim. "Having your dogs handle your problems now, aren't you, James?"

"That's 'Captain' James to you," said Jim, calmly taking another swig of his beer, "And I didn't give any orders, did I? But I would suggest that you listen to them. They're a tad overprotective of me. The fact that you were my stepfather won't help you either."

"So you told them 'bout me? I'm flattered."

Bones actually growled at Frank and Jim felt a bundle of warmth flutter in his stomach, but he quickly squashed it down to concentrate at the task at hand. He chuckled, leaning back onto the counter - the picture of nonchalance even though he felt far from it. "It's because they know that I think you should run as far away from me as you can. Otherwise, it won't end well for you."

"Are you threatening me, boy?!"

"Why yes, I am. Good for you, you actually picked that up!" Jim clapped mockingly.

Frank lunged forward, but he got nowhere close to Jim. Spock was an unmoving statue that Frank couldn't get past. When he tried, Spock aggressively grabbed Frank's outstretched out before spinning around to shove him face-down into the countertop a couple of feet away from Jim.

"Get off me!" shouted Frank.

"You have attempted to attack a Captain of the Federation. I am obligated to protect my Captain by any means necessary," Spock warned coldly, relentlessly inflicting more pain on Frank.

"There's no need for that," Jim said quietly, looking down at his beer. "He's not worth our time. Mr. Spock, Mr. Sulu, remove the man from premises. He's making my beer taste bad."

"Are you sure, Captain?" questioned Spock.

Jim glanced up to look at Frank's red-flushed face with anger, pausing for a brief moment. His eyes flickered with uncertainty before they ducked down to the drink in his hands again. "Yeah. I won't stoop to his level. Escort him out."

"Understood," Spock replied as he reluctantly let Frank go.

"Come on, you fucking bastard," snarled Sulu, roughly shoving Frank towards the door with Spock closely behind him.

Jim didn't even watch them go, keeping his eyes glued to his beer as he fought down the rising bile in his throat. He was losing the battle fast.

He could feel Chekov and Uhura watching him warily. Bones touched his arm so gently, as if Jim was going to break at any second, and Jim hated it.

"Jim..." Bones murmured.

"I need to go to the restroom," Jim said quickly and jumped out of his chair, rushing to the bathroom without a backwards glance.

He braced himself against the sink, breathing heavily as he tried to quell the emotions threatening to burst out of him. He looked up at the mirror and just stared at those turbulent blue eyes. What he saw sickened him - Frank was just a skeleton in his closet. He had seen far, far worse and yet, Frank was still about to instill an undying spark of turmoil within him. It disgusted him. Even after all that he had been through, Frank still had that effect on him. He could feel tears prickling his eyes as he tried hard to not hyperventilate with the memories that were about to overcome him.

Shit. He was such a pansy. He should've been over this by now.

He leaned down and splashed his face with water, leaning over the sink for several minutes as he took calming breaths. With the running water, Jim didn't hear the door to the bathroom or the footsteps that came near him. He did sense someone coming up to him, but he reacted too late.

Something sharp pricked the side of his neck, right where his jugular vein was, and he felt a burning sensation as the liquid was injected into his bloodstream.

Jim automatically clamped his right hand over the site of injection, but he knew that he was far too late to do anything. Almost instantly, Jim felt his entire world tilt nauseatingly and he stumbled back, staring dumbly at the blurry face before him.

"Night night, Captain James," the distorted figure before him said.

Even as drugged as he was, Jim would recognize that voice anywhere.

Fuck. As if he didn't already have enough nightmares about Frank already.

This was going to suck...

And then the world faded to black.

"He's been gone for a while," McCoy muttered for the seventh time. The doctor was alternating between looking worriedly at the bathroom where Jim had disappeared off to and at the rest of his friends.

Uhura sighed. "He's fine, Leonard. You said it yourself. Kirk likes to handle things like this on his own."

"He shouldn't have to though."

"I'm not saying that he will be." Uhura took a slow sip of her Bud Classic. "Look, he just met his abusive stepfather for the first time in years. Even someone like Kirk needs some time to compose himself. You know how much Kirk hates being vulnerable in front of others, especially somewhere so public."

"I know…I know…" muttered Leonard, taking in a huge gulp of his whiskey.

Uhura eyed the door, noting Spock and Sulu making their way back to them. Both had worry and concern etched onto the lines of their faces. She was sure it was the same for her, Chekov, Scotty, and even more so on McCoy's.

McCoy was jittery, his legs bouncing up and down as he bit on his lower lip. His eyes were almost glued to the restroom. Uhura never truly understood the depth of their friendship. It was always just Jim and McCoy. One was always within reach of the other, even back at the Academy. Now that Jim was Captain and was constantly putting his life on the line, it seemed that they gravitated closer to each other out of worry and need of comfort.

To put it simply, they were brothers with a bond that was stronger than blood.

Uhura could only imagine what was going through Leonard's head at the moment, so when McCoy stood up suddenly and announced, "I'm going to go check on him," she could only nod.

"Let him know that we're waiting for him," she said quietly.

McCoy just grunted in response and quickly waded through the sea of bodies to disappear into the back corner of the bar.

"Where's he off to?" asked Sulu as he settled down between Chekov and Uhura.

"Where do you think?" she responded gently, turning to Spock. "Frank?"

"Gone," Spock said. "Is Jim alright?"

It was just like Spock to skip the whole obvious question: "Jim isn't back yet?"

"Leonard's checking up on him."

Spock nodded, raising himself to his full height to glance towards the bathroom. His eyebrow rose when he saw McCoy rushing back with panic in his expressions.

"Doctor," Spock greeted.

McCoy went right up to Spock, "He's gone," he said lowly.

"Pardon?"

"He's gone!" McCoy hissed.

"Maybe he just went back on board," suggested Scotty.

McCoy rounded on him. "Without telling us?"

"He is correct. Jim would not leave without informing us."

"Frank's got him, doesn't he?" Sulu gulped.

"Yeah…" breathed McCoy, "Most likely. Spock?"

Spock was already dialing on his communicator, ordering a beam up as he headed out with the rest of the crew following him.

As the lights swirled around the Vulcan, he turned to stare determinedly at McCoy. "Doctor, do not fear. We will get him back."

"You better. And you better find him before I do, because I will tear that bastard a new one for doing this," McCoy growled.

Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura all looked at him – each with a matching, bloodthirsty expression. "Get in line."

McCoy smirked. Frank was going to regret ever messing with their family.

They would make sure of it.

There were distorted voices all around him, deep and unearthly. Jim had an inkling that he recognized a few, but everything was swirling around discerningly. He couldn't make sense of what was up or down; whether he was upright or lying down. What he was sure of was how nauseated he felt and how confused he was. Bile was trapped in his throat and he wanted desperately to throw it all up, except he wasn't quite sure where his mouth was. He couldn't even feel any of his fingers and his head felt completely discombobulated.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and he had an odd image of it being oversized and thumping out of his ribcage, like one of those comical cartoons that he had seen long, long ago. Forcing what he thought was his eyes open, he saw blurry figures before him. Most were mere shadows and transparent, like a ghost. They spoke to him in low terms, whispering.

"George...I need you..."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I can't stay here anymore. Not with him."

"You fucking brat! I'll kill you!"

"Your execution is so ordered..."

"I dare you to do better."

"I may throw up on ya."

"Permission to come aboard, Captain."

They shifted, coming closer to him and laying their cold hands on his face, blocking his view of the barren room that he could barely make out.

Somewhere or another, his sluggish brain connected the dots. Ah. So what he was seeing was just hallucination, which meant that he was drugged.

Fuck. He hated being drugged.

Despite having that cloud fogging his entire mind, he mentally ran through his symptoms (he was a genius after all; his mind worked on several tracks at once and at least one of them, luckily, was still working). He had an increased heart rate, nausea, numbness (particularly in his fingers and legs), hallucinations, and he was having slight difficulties breathing normally. And if he remembered correctly, the drug was injected into his system – not through ingestion.

Ketamine was probably the most likely culprit. Damn it. He was like 70% sure that he was allergic to that. Bones was not going to like that.

He shifted, trying to fight through the haze, and tried to figure out his surroundings like he always did. He was sitting (most likely) in a wooden chair with his arms bound behind it and his legs tied to the legs. He wasn't gagged or blindfolded, which was a great mistake on Frank's part. Rule number one of capturing Jim Kirk was that you had to keep him quiet. It was also the rule number one that Jim had to keep to in order to survive longer, not that he abided by it. He had a bad habit of taunting his captors, but that was neither here nor there.

He needed to focus, but the stupid drug was making him extremely ADD and his thoughts were all over the place. He almost preferred being knocked out by a hard hit to the head over this. Bones would not agree. Well, at least until his body decides to reject the drug and send him into anaphylactic shock. He probably had at least twenty minutes before that happened? Maybe? He couldn't remember anymore.

What was he even thinking about before this?

Oh yeah. Escaping. Or did Spock's eyebrow of death come into factor here? Something about McCoy's gruff bedside manner? What the hell was he thinking about before this?!

Jim groaned. Goddamn drugs...

"Are you awake now, boy?" came that ridiculously horrifying voice that had haunted him throughout his childhood.

Jim lolled his head forward (oh, that was his head?) and an ugly but familiar face came into focus.

"F-fucker..." Jim forced out, trying to spit it out as angrily as he could. It probably didn't happen.

Frank smirked, "Good to see that you're still with me. I was a little worried that I overdosed you. Still need you somewhat coherent."

His words sounded like Jim had cotton stuffed in his ears. "Where..." Jim licked his dry lips. "Where am I?"

"Like I'm going to tell you."

"Who...put you up to this?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"That's why...I asked, you i-idiot."

Jim probably deserved that smack across his face. Judging by how harshly his head turned, it was a hard blow, but he couldn't feel it quite yet.

"You've made some very dangerous enemies, James, scampering around the universe the way you do. And they found me. The one person you're truly afraid of."

He couldn't help it. Jim snorted. "I'm...afraid...of a lot of people, but...you are not...on that list, Frank."

Frank leaned forward, bracing both hands onto Jim's chair. "Then what am I?"

"A skeleton...a skeleton in my closet," Jim gasped out. His chest was getting tighter.

Frank laughed loudly, grating on Jim's nerves. "And yet, I still captured the famous James Kirk from under his crew's nose. Winona would be so proud."

Jim frowned, still trying to figure out if he was upside down or not. "Winona...? She's dead."

She was, wasn't she? He remembered going to her funeral. He remembered standing stoically and dried-eyed under the sun with all these people that he didn't know crying by her casket. His brother was there, he was sure. So was Pike. Neither had spoken to him: one couldn't because of guilt and the other had no more words of comfort. Yet, her cutting declaration that he was merely a ghost and that she couldn't bear to look at him anymore flittered through, as if she was standing right next to him.

The world swirled again and Jim found himself trying hard to cling on to what was actually reality and what were memories.

Rough hands grabbed the collar of Jim's black leather jacket. "Don't lie to me! She said that she'd wait until I made something out of myself!"

Jim chuckled mirthlessly, almost hysterically. Damn drug. "She's dead...you fucker."

He was rewarded with another punch to his face. His head went flying backwards and collided with the hard wood on the back of his chair. That one, he felt, and out of habit, he snapped his mouth shut and distracted himself from the pain in his nose by focusing on the feeling of blood dripping down his face.

"That's better..." Frank muttered and he backed away, mumbling to himself. "They said if I got you, they'd pay me. I'll be rich. Winona will come running back."

Jim tilted his head to stare at Frank a little lopsidedly. Frank was pacing back and forth in the small room, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor that creaked with each footfall. Beads of sweat were clear on his forehead and he was wringing his hands worriedly.

If Jim could, he would frown. He was the one captured, so why was Frank anxious? The man had no emotional attachment to Jim. Frank could care less what happened to him so an internal battle with morality was not on the table.

It seemed as though Frank was afraid of the people he was working for, which meant that they were truly dangerous. Probably even had ties to terrorist groups around the world and had connections with some pretty powerful people; otherwise, how else would they have found and sought out Frank? Jim had personally made sure that all his juvenile files had been erased years ago. Even Chekov wouldn't have been able to find them anymore. Hell, he was sure that he couldn't find them either.

Or maybe Frank was simply chatty in jail and blurted out that he knew Jim as a kid. It didn't matter what the true reason was either way. Whoever hired Frank was always going to continue going after Jim until he was in their hands. Jim had to strike first.

"They...? Who's...'they'?" Jim rasped out.

"The ones who's going to pay me for you, dumbass. Who else?"

"Are they...terrorists?"

Frank burst out laughing. "That's the best part! It's your own people that want you."

Jim's brain came to a stuttering stop. "What?"

"I was minding my own business when some blokes from Starfleet come knocking on my door, saying that they had a job for me. No idea how they found me or my relation to you, but they offered me a shit ton of money. And I got to rail on you while I was at it? I couldn't possibly turn that down, now could I?"

Jim's chest felt so tight. "What...do they...want with me?"

"They wanted you out of the picture."

"You...gonna kill me?"

"You're no good to me dead. Just need to hold you here until they get here."

"You kidnapped me…in front of my crew. If…what you say is true…no one's coming. It's too hot."

"Doesn't matter. I have back-up plans. If they won't pay me, you will."

Faltering chuckles erupted out of Jim, making him gasp for air when he managed to get it under control. "What makes you think…I'll do that? After…all this, dumbass?"

Frank leaned down, snarling into Jim's face. "Because I know you."

"Bullshit. There's…nothing you can do…to me…that'll make me do…what you want."

"That's true. Never could beat some sense into you, but you always did cave when your brother took your place."

Jim sucked in a breath at the mention of Sam. With the drug in his system, all his psychic defenses against the shadows of his past were slowly being overridden. Thoughts of his brother laughing as he throwing him up into the air, only to catch him safely into his arms, of Sam protecting him as fists and empty bottles crashed around him, swirled around his boggled mind. Sam was always a symbol of love, safety, and warmth. And then one day, it was all gone. He left behind a dark void that could never be filled no matter how much Jim drank or partied.

For a while, Jim could handle it. He buried the aching, bleeding part of his heart that Sam had caused deep, deep into his soul where it could never see the light. Years and years later, Sam's hole had been filled by first Bones, then Spock, and Chekov, Scotty, and Sulu. They were his brothers and Jim barely felt the ache anymore, but right now, he was all alone. There were no comforting fingers through his hair, no reassuring words or touches. Just him, his memories, and the man who was responsible for his wretched childhood.

Needless to say, he wasn't dealing with it as well as he could. Hearing Sam's name sent him spiraling down another path of memories he didn't want to remember.

"What're…what're you trying to say, Frank?"

"That you'll do anything I say to protect what's precious to you."

Jim felt alarm rising as he made the connections. Strength spread through his veins in the form of adrenaline. He shifted, pulling himself up. "What the hell are you planning? What did you do to my crew?!"

Frank grinned. "Nothing yet."

"I'll fucking kill you if you touch them!" Jim roared, almost jerking out of his chair.

Frank ruthlessly shoved him down, "Shut up, you fucking pest!" Frank returned, just as loudly.

Spittle sprayed onto Jim's face, but he was too dazed to pay attention to it. The movement had made the entire world tilt to the left and Jim was back to trying to find his footing again. All of sudden, his chest tightened so harshly that he was starting to gasp for air. Black dots appeared in his vision as he fought to catch his breath. He barely even noticed Frank backing off when his communicator went off. All he could focus on was how far and quickly his allergic reaction was progressing.

Words drifted in and out of Jim's hearing. First, it was a male voice. "You captured Captain Kirk too publically. We ordered you to bring him in discretely, Frank. You assured us that your history with him would ensure that."

Then, Frank angrily responding, "Well I have him now. Give me the money you promised me!"

"No. The deal is off. You are on your own."

And then there was the sound of the communicator smashing to the ground. "Fine, if that's how they want to play, then so be it."

Jim felt hands on his neck and another needle piercing his skin. A burning followed the liquid ketamine into his bloodstream. Oh fuck. He was in big trouble now.

Frank looked as if he was behind a cloudy screen. "You stay put while I get the preparations ready. I'll be back soon."

His words were muffled, like either he or Jim was underwater. Frank just grinned at him when Jim found himself unable to respond, and left obnoxiously with a loud slam of the door.

Jim's head lolled forward; he couldn't breathe anymore. Bones was going to be so pissed.

He whimpered as he thought of his best friend. He remembered the first time he found himself under Bones' care – when he had just come back from one of his many bar fights, beaten and bloodied with nowhere to go. McCoy had found him by accident and proceeded to take care of him, no questions asked, and stayed with him all night. When he woke, McCoy was about to leave to class, but before he did, he told Jim that he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted.

Jim didn't leave, Bones didn't send him away. That was the day McCoy became 'Bones'. And they both never looked back. They each completed the voids in their lives, like symbiotic parasites that couldn't live without the other. Slowly, others entered their lives, filling and saving them in ways that they hadn't thought was possible, but it simply couldn't compare. Their bond was unexplainable, yet, it meant everything, for the both of them.

He was sure it was the lack of oxygen speaking, but he thought he heard the sounds of Bones yelling his name. It was probably his imagination. The world started fading to the black and he let his head fall back, gasping one word with his last breath: "Bones…"

And then he was gone.

Frank was smiling when the swirling white lights around him started to fade. That good-for-nothing brat of Winona's had finally become useful. He fingered the home-made explosive device in his pocket. The Enterprise had been docked for a good few hours; most of the crew was probably down on the surface, which meant that Frank could do what he wanted without being interrupted. It was just as he planned.

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Frank blinked away the last of the lights. Immediately, the smirk dropped once he saw the armed phasers pointing directly at him.

Before him stood the security team and the majority of the Command crew of the Enterprise. The Vulcan was closest to him and without dropping his guard, Spock took a step closer.

"Sir, put your arms over your head and step down from the transporter pad," he commanded, "Or we will use force, if necessary."

"Please give us a reason to shoot you," said Sulu, his expressions contorted into anger. "I'm itching for it."

Uhura, Chekov, and Scotty's fingers twitched on their own triggers.

"You're done, Frank," hissed Uhura. "You don't get to hurt him again."

"Ve vill make sure of that," Chekov added, even though he didn't look particularly menacing.

Scotty, surprisingly, was the one that Uhura was worried about. The engineer looked as though he was ready to explode at any minute.

Frank wasn't a smart man, but he knew when the game was up. He raised his hands and did as he was told. The moment he stepped onto the ground, Spock and Sulu surrounded him and wrenched his hands behind his back and cuffed them.

The transporter whirled again and they all turned to see two figures come into view.

"That's…that's impossible!" gasped Frank, his jaw dropping.

Jim just grinned and shrugged. "And yet, here I am."

He was still in the same civilian clothes when he was taken by Frank, looking completely as dazzling as always. McCoy was standing closely beside him, but the doctor's face was wiped clean. When McCoy saw Frank held down, anger flashed through his eyes, but he neither spoke nor moved from Jim's side.

Jim, on the other hand, was gleeful and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "Hello, Frank. Long time no see," he mocked, stepping down to come to a stop right before his stepfather.

"How did you…?" started Frank.

"How did I escape? Easy. My crew never lost track of me. They came when I called," shrugged Jim.

"Bones…" Jim gasped, his words barely heard on the Enterprise. And then there was nothing but silence. Not even the sounds of Jim's labored breathing.

"Shit…Beam me down, now!" shouted McCoy, jumping onto the pad.

Within seconds, he was in the small, dirty motel room, right in front of Jim's prone form. Jim was tied to a chair in the center of the bare room, his head lolled down against his chest.

McCoy ran to him, falling to his knees right before Jim. Frantically, he checked for Jim's pulse. It was there, but weak. And then McCoy felt his heart stop. Jim wasn't breathing. His airways were constricted, inflamed.

Allergic reaction, McCoy's mind supplied. Immediately, he reached into his bag and slammed a hypospray against Jim's neck – an antihistamine that started to clear up Jim's airways quickly.

McCoy tapped Jim's neck, waking him.

"Wha…?" slurred Jim, opening his eyes. They were dilated and dazed.

"What did he drug you with, Jim? Come on, answer me, Jimbo," Bones said.

"B-bones…?"

"Yeah, it's me. You need to answer me, Jimbo. I can't give you an antidote unless I know what it is that he gave you."

"Drug?" Jim frowned, trying to form the word. "Keta-…"

"Ketamine?"

Jim didn't answer, his head falling backwards onto the chair.

"Damn it, Jim!"

McCoy rummaged through his bag once again, filling the hypospray and jamming it into Jim's jugular.

It took a few seconds, and Jim reacted violently to it, turning to the side to vomit harshly onto the wooden floor. Bones rubbed Jim's back comfortingly, knowing full well that that was just Jim's body trying to purge itself of the drug.

"Bones," Jim gasped, clawing at his friend.

"I'm here. I gotcha."

Jim was shaking and he clung onto Bones, almost hugging his arm to his chest.

"Damn it, Jim," sighed Bones, "I'm a doctor, not a teddy bear." But he didn't move or pull away.

Jim chuckled falteringly as he pulled himself together. He could feel himself getting more and more coherent with each passing second, the haze of the drug behind pushed into the back of his mind. "You're so damn cuddly, Bones, and you know it."

"Yeah yeah. You're high off your ass. You think you can stand up? We gotta get you back onboard. The drug I gave you has a limited therapeutic range."

"Frank get on the Enterprise yet?"

"No idea. He's not exactly my first priority here."

"Help me up, Bones," Jim said, holding his hand out for Bones to grab.

Bones obliged, frowning in confusion.

Jim groped at Bones' waist, reaching for his communicator and calling for a beam up.

"What are you planning, Jim?" Bones asked.

Jim smiled. "I gotta make my entrance."

"What are you talking about?" Frank stammered, still baffled at the sight of Jim towering over him.

Jim leaned down, penetrating Frank's personal space. In an instant, Jim's expressions morphed, twisting into an anger that only a few had ever seen before. "Did you really think that I wouldn't notice your attempts to hack into the Enterprise, Frank? I helped build this ship. You don't think I wouldn't have noticed something off about her? Those programs you inserted had your grubby fingerprints all over it. So I laid out a trap for you. I made sure to choose a bar that you frequented. I made sure that I would be alone and let myself get taken by you."

Jim thrummed his fingers on the table in a fit of anxiety. He steadfastly ignored McCoy, Scotty, Spock, Uhura, and Chekov as they sat around him, eying him warily.

"So…you're saying that your stepfather hacked into the Enterprise to get her to dock at Riverside? What for?" asked Sulu.

"I have no idea," Jim replied, still keeping his eyes glued to the table, as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life.

"What do you want us to do, Jim?" McCoy said.

Jim provided no answer.

"We can arrest him, Jim," suggested Spock. "He hacked into the flagship of Starfleet. That is enough to send him to the penal colonies for a long period of time."

Jim shook his head. "We don't have proof."

Uhura frowned. "Then how did you know it was him?"

Jim rubbed his face tiredly. "I spent enough time with him to know his methods. Hacking leaves behind trails, like signatures. If you're smart, you can mimic others or even avoid that all together, but Frank's not that good. I know it's him, but I can't prove it."

"Zen vhat do you propose?" questioned Chekov.

"We can't just leave 'im alone," nodded Scotty.

Jim shuffled uncomfortably. "No, we can't. I have a plan, but you're not going to like it."

McCoy groaned. "When do we ever?"

Jim wanted very much to bash his face against the table now. "Trust me, I'm not going to like it, let alone you guys. Just…hear me out before you decide to smack me across the face?"

A few minutes later, the crew was in an uproar.

"Let me get this straight. You want to let yourself get kidnapped by your abusive stepfather so you can question him? Am I understanding this right?" gaped Sulu.

"I've had worse plans," Jim shrugged.

"No, I don't think so," sighed McCoy. "This isn't a good idea."

"Do you have a better plan? Frank hacked into the Enterprise for a reason. He's targeting us and we don't know why. I don't know about you, but if I don't have all the facts, it makes me more nervous."

"I do not agree with this," Spock said.

"Me neither," Chekov added.

"Look, you'll be behind me every step of the way. I'll be safe. Promise."

"There's got to be a better way."

"If there was, don't you think I would've figured it out, Bones? I don't like this any more than you, but it must be done. What if he's planning an attack on the Enterprise? What if he's attacking the Admiralty? We won't know until we do this."

There was a moment of silence as Jim's crew contemplated it.

Finally, McCoy sighed. "Fine, but we're rushing in as soon as it gets dangerous for you, regardless if you have what you need, understand?"

"Deal."

"Right then," clapped Scotty. "Where do we start?"

"What? This was all planned?"

"I'm the Captain of the goddamn flagship of Starfleet. You really think my crew would be incompetent enough to let me be kidnapped by a third-rate low-life scum like you?"

As soon as Spock and the rest beamed back onboard, they all crowded around the console in the transporter room. Scotty and Chekov set to work, activating and tracking the bug they had placed on Jim. Almost instantly, the crackle of static filled the room.

Everyone winced at the loud noise.

"Sorry, I'll get tha' fixed right away," muttered Scotty and he pounded something on the console.

The sounds transformed and turned into quiet rumblings, almost too quiet to be discernible.

"He's in a hovercar," exclaimed Chekov.

"Keep track of where he is going," Spock said. "Nyota, Mr. Sulu, coordinate with the security team and search every inch of the ship. Frank must have done something while we were on land."

Uhura and Sulu nodded and quickly made their way out.

"I'm going to grab my medkit, just in case," McCoy announced, following them out.

"Vhat do we do now, Commander?" asked Chekov, staring so innocently up at Spock.

Spock straightened, staring at the monitors before him. "Now we wait."

Scotty groaned. "I hate waiting."

"As do I, Mr. Scott. As do I."

Jim cocked his head, thinking. "I'd have to admit though, you drugging me was not something that I had expected. It made drawing out the right information out of you a little bit harder, but with your dropped guard and your underestimation of me, we've got more than enough to put you away for a long, long time, right, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes. The recording device that Mr. Scott inserted into your watch functioned admirably. We have more than enough to arrest your stepfather."

"Lovely." Jim backed a step and smiled oh-so-innocently at Frank. "Well, Frank. Looks like our journey together ends here. It's been a pleasure, but I think it's time that you go back to being that skeleton in my closet. Spock, Sulu, take him to the Brig. I don't want to see his face again."

"It will be our pleasure," growled Sulu, jabbing Frank harshly in the back.

Frank didn't go out quietly. He shouted and struggled, but he was no match against an angry Vulcan. One vicious Vulcan pinch later and Frank was taken away.

As soon as his stepfather was dragged out of the room, Jim sighed and the weariness on his face became ever so apparent. All the strength he might've had drained away, like water in a broken glass. His head throbbed viciously as nausea rose in his throat. He sagged against Bones, fighting hard to stay awake – to see this all to the end.

"Keptin?" questioned Chekov, taking a step forward out of concern.

Scotty and Uhura both mimicked their younger friend.

It took a second for Jim to comprehend what Chekov was asking. "I think…I think I need to sit down…" Jim murmured.

Four sets of hands helped him settle down on the ground comfortably. He closed his eyes, fighting against the vertigo that had attacked him. Goddamn drugs. He seriously hated drugs.

Words floated above his head.

"He's drugged up to his eyeballs right now. He just needs to sleep it off and he'll be right as rain," Bones explained quietly.

Jim reached out weakly, feeling someone – probably Bones by the calluses – and blinked blearily at them. "It's…over?"

Uhura smiled prettily at him. It was soft, warm, and caring – not something Jim got to see often. She reached over, cupping his cheek with her right hand. "Yes."

"Your stepfather will never harm you again, laddie. We can promise you tha'," assured Scotty, rubbing Jim's shoulder. "I bet my sandwiches on it."

Chekov plopped down next to Jim, pressing right up against Jim's side. "So rest easy, Keptin. Ve'll be here vhen you vake. Ve vill protect you."

Jim smiled and closed his eyes, settling more comfortably against Chekov (completely ignoring Bones' "We'll have to move him to the SickBay, you idiots.").

He was gone in minutes.

This time, he didn't mind.

When Jim woke, he was back in his quarters. He was a little confused, seeing the darkness surrounding him. His head still throbbed and he was shaky, trembling with cold sweat dripping down his face. He was in for a horrible withdrawal from the ketamine – he just knew it. Ugh. He definitely hated drugs. Fuck Frank. He could've easily just knocked Jim out, but nooo…he had to drug him.

He shifted, groaning, and then froze when he realized he wasn't alone. Bones, unsurprisingly, was lying beside him on his bed, one hand on his wrist as if checking his pulse at all times even while he was asleep. The surprise lay with the rest of his command crew. Spock was sitting in his usual lotus position, meditating, in the corner; Scotty had pulled up a chair was resting his feet upon the end of Jim's bed. Someone had pushed in a long sofa into his quarters, shoving his desk and chair against the wall to make room. Sleeping on it was Chekov leaning adorably on Sulu's shoulders with Uhura curled up and pillowed on Chekov's lap.

Jim couldn't help it. He let the warmth of his makeshift family wash over him and a smile spread across his face.

"Ah see tha'," came a quiet voice to his right.

Jim startled, jerking and almost smacking Bones on the nose like a dog. "Ah, Scotty. Thought you were asleep," he whispered.

Scotty grinned and scooted around to make himself more comfortable. "Nope. My turn ta watch over ya."

"I'm not about to run," Jim said, rolling his eyes. He shivered, grasping at his covers tightly.

Before Jim could even mask his pain, Scotty was already there, placing a warm, wet cloth onto his forehead. He had no idea where the engineer had procured that hot compress out of nowhere, but Jim greatly appreciated it. He bit back the groan of relief and Scotty could see the lines on his face fade slightly.

"Thanks…" he murmured.

Scotty patted Jim's shoulder in response. "McCoy says yer in fer a rough night, but you'll be feelin' betta tomorrow mornin'. Yer lucky yer bastard stepfather didn't hold you longer, otherwise you'd be feeling this bad for the next few days."

"That jerk." Scotty knew that Jim was referring to McCoy. If he was talking about Frank, he would've used an even harsher insult. "I'm sure he's got some drugs sitting around for this."

"Withdrawal is some nasty business, but you're allergic to anything McCoy can give ya."

"Of course. Shouldn't be surprised anymore."

Jim visibly paused. "Frank?"

"No longer on board. We've beamed him down to Pike."

Jim winced. "Ouch. Pike likes him less than I do."

Scotty grinned. "Exactly."

"Good choice," Jim smiled, leaning back against his pillows.

"Do you want ta know what Pike is going to do ta him?"

"No. I'm done with him. Finally."

"I want you to know that McCoy got a good sucker punch in before tha' bastard got shipped off. Uhura slapped him silly too."

Jim laughed quietly. "That's my girl."

"The rest of us woulda gotten some shots in, but uh…Pike didn't appreciate us kicking a downed man."

"Thanks," Jim said.

"Would you two quit your yapping? Some of us are trying to get some shut-eye," drawled McCoy in his Southern accent. His voice was rough from sleep, but his eyes were wide awake.

"Old man needs his sleep?" Jim mocked.

McCoy rolled his eyes and sat up, frowning as he noted the tremors throughout Jim's body. "How are you feeling? And don't lie to me. I'll call you out on it."

"I'm tired…and I can't stop shaking. Chills too."

"Can't give you anything for it, sorry. You're…"

"Allergic," finished Jim. "I know. Scotty filled me in. It's not too bad, Bones. Don't worry. I've had worse."

"You always say that. It never makes me feel better."

"I try," smiled Jim.

"Doesn't make us feel better either," added Sulu.

Jim shifted slightly to look over at the three who were all looking at him sleepily. "Sorry, did we wake you?"

"Leonard did," said Uhura with slight irritation in her voice. "Loud voice woke everyone up."

Jim looked absolutely delighted at the sight of McCoy looking uncomfortable. Uhura could be bloody scary if she wanted to be, especially when she just woke up.

"Not everyone," McCoy defended, "Hobgoblin is still asleep."

"Incorrect, Doctor. You have managed to rouse me from my meditation as well," Spock said. There was a tightness to his tone that told everyone that he was not happy either.

Jim snickered, but that ended quickly when another chill shook through him. Silence fell and all that could be heard was Jim's harsh and barely controlled breathing. It rang in Jim's ears and he just had to fill it. "Fucking hate drugs…" he said weakly.

"And I fucking hate your stepfather," snorted McCoy. "Wish I got more than a punch in. Pike reeled us in after Uhura went crazy on him."

"Oh, I wish I could've been a fly on the wall to see that."

"Don't worry, laddie. I have it recorded," winked Scotty.

"Yes!" Jim actually high-fived the Scottish man out of his glee.

"Hey, I've got a random question, Kirk," Sulu burst out suddenly.

"Fire away," nodded Jim.

"You said that you helped build the Enterprise. That can't be true, right? I mean, you would've been like twenty years old when that happened."

"Nineteen, actually."

"Wait…you actually helped build the Enterprise? No way. Don't believe it."

Jim chuckled. "Have you ever looked up the name of the Chief Architect of the Enterprise?"

"It was a J. Kirk…" Spock trailed off, looking at Jim with bafflement in his eyes. "Oh."

"'Oh' is right. Genius level repeat offender, remember?" laughed Jim. "I've been in shipyards almost my entire childhood. Knew my way around ships and people knew about it. They told me that they were planning on building the flagship and I just happened to be bored, so I agreed."

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" demanded Uhura.

"It didn't come up," shrugged Jim. "Didn't think it mattered."

Scotty was looking at him in awe, like he wanted to hug Jim. Jim just shook his head, chuckling. "And that was exactly what I was hoping to avoid."

"Did we ever figure out who Frank was working with?" asked Sulu.

"No, I do not believe so," replied Spock. "However, Admiral Pike has informed me that he will question Frank and keep us updated."

Jim meant to comment on that, but another tremor attacked him and this time, he couldn't quite suppress the groan. He was so tired. So bone tired, and his body felt as though ice was running through his veins. Withdrawal was such a bitch.

At the sound of Jim's noise of distress, McCoy quickly bundled Jim up better with his covers and moved in closer so that his body heat could help. The extra warmth suddenly started lulling Jim towards sleep, but it was obvious that he was fighting it still.

"Go to sleep, you ingenious idiot," McCoy said gruffly. "We'll still be here when you wake."

Jim was already inches away from succumbing, but he had to make sure. "Promise?" he murmured.

More than one voice responded. "Always."

He wasn't sure who it was that started to run their fingers through his hair (he had a sneaking feeling that it was Bones), but it didn't matter. In the end, he was home and safe with the people who cared about him and who never let him down.

With his family by his side, Jim could face anything, even the skeletons in his closet.

He could even forget that there was someone after him again.

Well, almost.

Jim snuggled in deeper into his blankets.

Meh. He could worry about that later.

Chapter Text

 XI

The Simplest Explanation is Usually the Truth

Jim was starting to get really irritated at Bones and the rest of his crew. He had come to terms that his crew was always going to be overprotective of him, but when he couldn't get a single moment alone, he had to draw the line there. Everywhere he went or did, there was always someone looking over his shoulder. It made him antsy and quite frankly, a little insulted. He was sure that he could get through a single day without getting a fucking paper-cut, not that their behavior indicated it.

While Jim could understand where his friends were coming from (he did almost die at the hands of some fucking terrorist and then proceeded to get drugged up to his eyeballs by his abusive ex-stepfather), there were times that he just needed some time to himself. He wasn't delicate, damn it, and he was going to prove it, so when the next mission came broadcasting through, Jim signed on for it without a second thought.

As expected, the entire crew of Enterprise was immediately in an uproar, citing regulations and safety measures. Jim couldn't blame them: he was supposed to beam down alone and explore a planet that was once part of the Federation, but, like Tarsus IV, had been abandoned. The reasons for such an action were unclear –numerous rumors bandied about. Some spoke of a disease that spread amongst the people while others talked about a serial killer that had quickly wiped the population out.

Either or, Starfleet wanted Jim to personally check it out and report back to them, stating that he had "experience" in such delicate matters and would probably be best fit to handle this entire situation. Pike had said that discretion was of the utmost importance, especially after what happened to Tarsus IV, and had instructed him to go quietly. He didn't specifically say that Jim had to be alone, but "quiet" in Jim's mind was pretty much tantamount to him going down by himself. If he had to deal with someone treating him like a piece of broken glass just one more time, he swore he was going to scream.

Minutes after the transmission from Pike, Jim was in his quarters shoving the necessary items he needed into his backpack as he mentally checked off his list and listened with one ear to Bones, Uhura, and Spock nagging at him at the side.

"Jim, what the hell were you thinking?!" snapped Bones. Jim vaguely noted the vein on Bones' forehead that was threatening to pop. "You still not completely healed!"

By that, Bones meant that Jim was easily winded nowadays – tasks that he used to be able to do with such ease were now slightly more difficult. After being so sick from the events in Germany and then encountering Frank while he was still healing, Jim was struggling to regain his full strength. But Jim wasn't exactly normal. Sure, he couldn't flip around like a Chinese acrobat before hacking up a lung, but he could still do everything else pretty easily. In other words, he was currently just an average human being. (Maybe slightly above average, if Jim wanted to be cocky.)

"I'm cleared for duty," Jim reminded, neatly packing ropes into his bag. "That kind of includes missions, Bones."

"You do not even know if the planet itself is safe, Jim," Spock added.

"Well, I guess I'll find out."

"I can override you as CMO," threatened Bones.

Jim smiled at him as he shouldered his bag. He faced all of them, putting his hands in his jean pockets. The light khaki jacket hung on his toned frame, almost covering all of the white t-shirt that Jim had on. "You know you can't, Bones. This came direct from the Admirals."

Uhura crossed her arms. "I thought we were over this, Kirk. Once you got out from under Komack, you wouldn't be taking these suicidal missions anymore."

"It's not suicidal, Uhura. It's not even supposed to be dangerous; otherwise, Pike wouldn't send me on it."

"The goddamn planet was abandoned for a reason, Jim!"

"Yeah, and I'm supposed to figure out why, Bones."

"Why are you even going alone, Kirk? I can't believe that Pike would send you down without any backup," protested Uhura.

Jim shrugged, walking past them, knowing full well that they were going to follow him all the way to the transporter. "Admirals want discretion and I've got the skill set."

"You're not fucking invincible, Jim! You're far too confident in your abilities! What are you going to do when you're pushed into a corner?!"

"Relax, Bones. If it's dangerous, I'll beam right back up," sighed Jim as he entered the transporter room. He could feel his patience running out.

"I somehow doubt that very much," said Spock.

"I agree with the hobgoblin. You have the self-preservation instincts of an ant, Jim."

Suddenly fed up, like a string snapping from tension, Jim swung around, almost snarling at them. "Look, you guys need to fucking back off. Despite what you all think, I'm not exactly suicidal. I know my limits and I'm not stupid, so back the fuck off," he growled. He straightened – a picture of a headstrong Captain. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do."

Bones wasn't intimidated and stepped into Jim's space, inches away from his face. "You don't get it, do you, Jim?" he said softly, but strongly. "Just two months ago, you were dying. We watched you waste away before our eyes."

"I'm alive, aren't I?" Jim retorted, lifting his chin in defiance.

"I'm going to punch you, you fucking bastard," growled Bones.

Jim just smirked. "I'd like to see you try. Maybe that's the proof that you need to know that I'm fine!"

Hurt flashed across Bones face and Jim's arrogance fell, followed by a twisted, pleading sort of expression. "Bones, I get where you're coming from. I do." But then anger laced his words again as he tried to get his own point across. "And I've let you all coddle me like a fucking child for two months. Enough is enough. Stop freaking out. I'll check in every other hour. Jesus," Jim said with a tone of finality that bore no room for argument. He stepped onto the transporter pad and glanced at Scotty, who was sitting at the console. "Energize."

Scotty hesitated, nervously looking over at Spock and Bones, who had matching livid expressions.

"I said, energize, Scotty," Jim hissed.

"Yes, sir."

Jim's blue eyes then rested on his friends. "The rest of you, go back to your stations. Don't worry. I'll be fine. It's just for a few hours."

And then he was gone.

McCoy crossed his arms, huffing angrily. "You're not about to let him go alone, are you, Spock?"

Spock had already swung his backpack that Uhura handed him over his shoulder (McCoy was still confused on where she had pulled it out from) and stepped onto the space where Jim was seconds ago. "Of course not. Mister Scott, please beam me down to the exact coordinates as our Captain."

"You realize that Jim's going to be pissed at us for doing this? He's going to say that we've been smothering him too much," McCoy commented off-handedly.

"May that as it be, Jim should not be down there alone."

"I'm not disagreeing. I'm just saying, you're going to bear the full brunt of Jim's anger. You should be prepared for the whiplash."

"As should you, Doctor. Energize."

In hindsight, Spock really should have had Scotty scan the ground before he beamed down.

Because for once, when shit hit the fan, it wasn't Jim's fault.

It was his.

The first thing Jim saw when he landed was that he was standing on top of a chateau. The view was gorgeous. It was almost like the Grand Canyons in ancient Arizona. For as far as the eye could see, he could see red, yellow, white striped rock monuments - tall and shaped by the thousands of millions of years. Chasms lay before him, centuries of history drawn into the land. It was absolutely breathtaking.

Here, for the first time in a while, Jim felt his head clear with the clean air. He could feel all the tension bleed away. Without his friends bearing down on him, Jim could finally think things through. There were so much that Jim had filed away because he simply didn't have the luxury of sifting through it until now. He closed his eyes, remembering Frank's words and piecing together what little information he had. Jim knew that he was getting buried; so far, only his ankles were covered, but Jim was sure that sooner or later, he wasn't going to be able to breathe anymore. He knew what was going on and he was scared that his friends were going to be dragged in. There was no escaping what was coming for Jim, but his family? They could still be protected. Jim just had to push them away from himself – the imminent epicenter of a shit storm.

It was going to be the hardest thing Jim had ever done. He just had to fake it as much as he could and focus on the task at hand. He turned slightly, looking to his right. A vast forest expanded a few acres, growing out from between the formations. Beyond that, he could see the ruins of a village with homes made of wood. A few roofs had collapsed in, some corners missing. If Jim had to guess, he would say that a fire had probably run its course at one point in time. It seemed that a man-made disaster was more likely than a rampant fungus disease or virus at this time, but Jim couldn't be sure.

Frowning, Jim stepped closer to the edge and heard an alarming, crunching noise below his feet. Freezing, he looked down. The rock was shiny and almost brownish-copper in color; the pattern was like sleets compiled on top of each other. His heart sank once he realized exactly what he was standing on: thin sheets of mica that were threatening to break at the slightest change in pressure. His mind turned rapidly as he tried to figure a way out. Shifting carefully, he spread his weight out more evenly as he glanced at his surroundings. He couldn't just jump down the chateau. The distance was far too high than what his currently weakened body could take, but he wasn't too far from solid ground. It was just a few meters to his left. He could probably roll on over and easily make it before he fell through the thin silicate sheets.

Gritting his teeth, Jim gently eased his backpack more securely onto both shoulders. He was seconds from making that jump to safety when he heard a familiar whirling sound. Jerking, his eyes widened when he saw the light lights start to form a certain pointy-eared figure beside him.

Oh shit.

Jim knew he had seconds before his window of opportunity to get to safety was gone, but even if he saved himself, the sudden change in weight would still cause Spock to fall through the thin mica. He was sure the Vulcan probably could survive it, Jim wasn't risking it.

He groaned. Goddamn his crew's overprotectiveness. If they hadn't sent Spock to be his fucking guard dog, the two of them wouldn't be in this precarious situation.

As Spock materialized, Jim steadied himself, knowing full well what was going to happen. The cracking sounds became more and more pronounced as Spock's weight settled onto the thin surface.

Spock's eyes were already looking for Jim when he appeared.

"You fucking bastards..." was the only thing Jim said to him.

"Jim," he had started, but he was interrupted with an ear-splitting crashing noise and then suddenly, Jim was hurdling into him, throwing them both off balance.

But there was no ground below them to stop their fall.

They were spinning wildly in the air, plummeting to the ground. Subconsciously, Spock made the connection that Jim had run into him in an attempt to push them both towards safer grounds, but there was nowhere to go once the ground broke beneath their weight.

Spock could feel Jim's strong grip around his back, but it wasn't quite as strong as what it could be. Jim truly wasn't completely well yet and Spock was 76.3% sure that he wouldn't survive if Spock didn't take drastic measures. Calculating his own chances of survival in his head, Spock predicted that it was about 87.1%, but the damage would be quite...unpleasant.

Jim started to shift in his arms and Spock realized that Jim was trying to position himself so that Spock landed on him. And instantly, Spock's grip around Jim's thin body tightened and used his strength to restrain Jim's fighting arms before flipping the two of them around.

That was the last thing he was knew when the hard ground came slamming up to greet them.

"What the hell do you mean you lost their signal?!" snarled McCoy, almost slamming his face into Scotty's. "How the hell does that happen?!"

"Leonard! That's not going to help this situation!" shouted Uhura, trying to get in-between them. "It wasn't Scotty's fault! We didn't know what they were standing on! And don't you think that Spock would've done anything he could to protect Kirk?"

"Calm down, McCoy, we'll send down search parties for them as soon as we've organized them," Sulu added. "You can go with, if you want. Bring your medkit if you're so worried about Kirk."

"Vhy are you so vorried about the Keptin, Doctor?" frowned Chekov. "He is vith Commander Spock. If anyone, ze Commander vill ensure his safety. And zeir signals probably disappeared because zey are being shielded by ze environment."

"Argh! His lungs are compromised!" McCoy almost yelled, and then almost immediately, he deflated. He took a couple steps back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Goddamn it…" he swore quietly. The rest immediately knew that he had just accidentally let something slip.

"What do you mean his lungs are compromised?" demanded Uhura. "Why haven't we heard about this before?"

"Jim doesn't know it either. After that bout with pneumonia and that shit fest with Frank, Jim's lungs really took a beating. It's probably at sixty percent capacity right now."

"Why haven't you told him?" gasped Uhura.

"He's already feeling incompetent because he's not as strong as he used be, even though he could still easily overpower me if he wanted to. If I go and tell him he's got more limitations, what do you think he's gonna do? He's gonna try and prove me wrong. And I'll have to patch him up all over again."

"Isn't that what he just did anyway?"

Uhura slapped Sulu on the back of his head. "Shut up. That's not helping."

"Look, I'll keep an eye out for them, but there ain't anything we can do until they appear," said Scotty. "An' Jim's a survivor, remember? He'll be fine. Spock too."

McCoy frowned. "Since when were we a 'glass-half-full' type of people?"

Sulu shrugged. "We kind of have to be, don't we? With Kirk's luck, things tend to hit the fan, but we've always made it back. He taught us that there's no such thing as no-win scenarios. That sort of thing tends to give you hope."

McCoy sighed. "We're all just a bunch of fools, just like him, aren't we?"

Chekov grinned. "Vould you vant it any other vay?"

McCoy shook his head. He couldn't imagine life without Jim, not in the slightest.

Suddenly, McCoy's communicator rang and he turned away to answer it. "McCoy here."

"McCoy, it's Pike. I've got something to tell you. It's about Jim."

Instantly, Leonard was on edge. "What's going on?"

"It's not much, but I think he's in danger."

McCoy turned to look at Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty, his eyes wide and alarmed. "Tell me everything…"

The first thing Jim became aware of was a deep and intense throbbing in his head. It was like Klingons had gotten a hold of Scotty's ale and started a fucking bongo party in his head. He must've hit it pretty damn hard and may be mildly concussed, but he couldn't be too sure.

He was lying on his stomach, still quite unwilling to open his eyes before he categorized all his internal and external injuries. He hurt. All. Over. It was like his entire body was an overly ripe apple that had been thrown against a wall repeatedly, but he definitely got off easy for free falling from a height of over seven stories.

Oddly enough, the surface beneath him was soft, sturdy, and warm. Not something he would expect from the hard, stone ground. It was even moving up and down, albeit slowly and steadily.

And then Jim panicked when his slow mind figured out exactly what it was that he was lying on. The damn pointy-eared bastard had used himself as a fucking landing pad for Jim. Jim would have scolded him if not for the fact that it would make him a complete and utter hypocrite (he did remember trying to do the same exact thing earlier).

He pushed himself to all fours, groaning as all his muscles protested against the movement, but he ignored it to frantically press his fingers against Spock's neck. A steady pulse beat on, and Jim let out a sigh in relief before glancing down the rest of the Vulcan.

Spock was unconscious, lying supine with a trickle of green blood dripping down the side of his face. His right arm, the one that Jim had mostly landed on, was twisted in a nauseating manner, as was his left leg. There were various scratches on his face, arms, and body, and there was bound to be bruises all over him too.

With shaking fingers, Jim lifted Spock's shirt, hoping that there were no signs of internal bleeding. There were bruises scattered all over Spock's torso, but that was all that they were. He sighed in relief and sank back again his heels, biting back a whimper as his worry for Spock gave way to his own body's pain.

He couldn't figure out what hurt the most. Everything throbbed and ached, like pins and needles were stabbing through him. There was a burning sensation against his side and he lifted his shirt to note a long, jagged laceration from just below his ribs towards his lower back. It was bleeding slowly – it wasn't too deep and the only danger it posed was if it got infected, but it still needed to get a few stitches. At least he had to backpack with him. Survival in the woods was something that he was very good at, though it wasn't something he liked to do.

He coughed, wincing, when he felt tight pressure against his chest - probably courtesy of that bitch, pneumonia. Whatever, he would deal with it all later. Right now, he and Spock were both vulnerable and out in the open. Jim didn't know what was out there and he couldn't prepare for it if he was busy keeping a 360 view of his surroundings.

Mentally scolding himself for not checking for the communicators earlier, Jim scrambled with numb fingers to get them. Both his and Spock's were missing – it had probably fallen out at some point, but Jim had a general idea where they could be.

Still, he wasn't going to leave Spock alone to search for the communicators. Leaning forward, Jim lightly tapped Spock's cheek. "Spock, come on, buddy. You need to wake up."

There was no response.

"Spock, wake up!"

When Spock remained unconscious, Jim sat back, groaning again. Well, Jim was anything but adaptable. He glanced around his surroundings, noting that they had fallen somewhere between the edges of the rocky terrain and forest land. With more luck than he had ever hoped for, Jim spotted a cave in the distance. It was about twenty feet away, give or take a few feet.

Slowly getting to his feet, Jim gingerly shifted Spock so that he could grasp him properly. Jim hooked his arms under Spock's armpits and lifted the Vulcan a few inches off the ground, dragging the heavy weight as he slowly made his way to shelter.

By the time he made it, he was already exhausted and wheezing. He set Spock down by the edge, grabbing some shrubbery to cover him up while he checked out the cave to make sure it was empty and safe. It wasn't very deep, but it had more than enough space for the two of them.

Jim almost sank to the ground in relief. He was so sure that he would have to fight a bear or some sort of ridiculous animal. His luck usually ran that way, but for once, fate was giving him a break, thankfully.

He grabbed a few more giant leaves before laying them down on the stone ground, forming a sort of bed for Spock before maneuvering the unconscious Vulcan onto it. Spock's arm and leg was still bent at an odd angle, and Jim knew that he had to do something about it.

Venturing out again, Jim wandered towards the forest, pulling out his boot knife as he searched the trees and ground for pieces of wood that could be used as a temporary splint. He was forced to cut into a few branches before he got the perfect size and he had to pause several times to get his breath back, but within ten minutes, Jim had exactly what he wanted and he quickly made his way back to Spock.

The Vulcan was still unconscious, no doubt in a healing trance to fix whatever burdens his body had undergone. Jim reached into his backpack and pulled out two rolls of bandages and plopped down next to Spock. He gently probed Spock's leg, feeling for the break in the tibia. He grasped Spock's leg on either side of the fracture and held his breath as he reset the bone in a flash. Warily, he glanced at Spock's face to see if the pain woke him up, but he was too deep in his trance. Now, Jim was slightly worried, because that could mean that Spock was more injured than he had expected, but he kept on working, tying the pieces of wood on the lateral and medial side of Spock's leg with the bandages.

He did the same thing for Spock's arm before sitting back on his heels, biting back a muffled groan as the movement made his muscles cry out in protest. Sharp, hot pain shot through his side and pulled his shirt up to prod at the cut again. It was now bleeding profusely, dripping down to stain the top edges of his khakis. He must've aggravated it further with Spock's treatment.

Sighing, he reached for his backpack again and rummaged through it, pulling out a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a spool of thread, and a needle. He was about to suck in his breath to prepare himself for the stinging sensation disinfecting his injury was going to bring about when an odd sound distracted him. Instantly, Jim was on guard, his body shifting to block Spock from view of the mouth the cave. Subconsciously, he reached for his boot knife and crouched, ready for anything. The noise repeated and his eyes widened when he realized that its origin was from behind him. Turning, he saw Spock shifting and shivering. Whatever strength the Vulcan had was being pulled to help aid his injuries, meaning that his body heat was plummeting because his system could no longer support his temperature if it wanted to repair his limbs.

Jim didn't even think about it and shrugged off his jacket, laying it across Spock's chest. It wasn't going to be enough, and Jim knew it. Glancing outwards again, Jim noted that dusk was falling. Soon, night was going to be upon them and the weather was already cold. It was just going to get worse as time went on. He really needed to get his own injuries under control, but unsurprisingly, there was something more important than his health at the moment.

He spent a good half an hour searching for dry and slightly rotted pine or cedar to start a fire and some solid, dry oak to keep it going through the night. By then, the cold had chilled his bones and he ached, but he ignored it all as he made his way back to the cave, quietly setting down the firewood a few feet away from Spock. After organizing the wood a sort of teepee, he searched through his pack again, pulling out matches.

Jim watched the flames slowly grow larger and larger and he couldn't help but think back to his time on Tarsus. Back then, he had nothing except for the rags on his back. There was nothing to keep him warm, nothing to use to bandage his injuries with. His kids had starved and wasted away before his eyes as the elements took their toll on their young, malnourished bodies. Broken bones meant inability to run and certain death; a simple cold was equivalent to a death sentence. It was almost kinder to end their lives before soldiers or the starvation settled in.

The weather then wasn't that much different either. Neither was the environment. J.T. had hid in many caves on Tarsus, if he was lucky enough to find one for him and his kids. Even then, J.T. could never risk a fire lest soldiers discovered their location. On occasion, when J.T. was absolutely sure that they were completely isolated, he would do exactly what he was doing now and warm up his kids by the fire as he used all his medical knowledge to treat them as best as he could. Even then, it wasn't always enough.

It had been over ten years since Tarsus. Jim's medical knowledge wasn't on par to Bones', but it was enough for him to become certified for emergency triage treatment. He had promised himself that he would never let anyone down because of his lack of ability. Since Tarsus, he had crammed his head with anything and everything. He wasn't sure how important each little fact was, but it was better to be prepared than not. If anything, all Jim really knew was how to survive under any circumstance. That was the one thing he always had faith in himself for.

Jim turned to look at Spock. The Vulcan was still unconscious and hadn't moved since Jim had gone out. The color of his pallor was slightly better, though it was still pale. Now that the fire was roaring, he wasn't shaking anymore either. The situation could have been worse. Much worse, and at least Jim was more than prepared this time around.

So why did he still feel so uneasy?

He rubbed his face tiredly. Just when he thought he had laid rest to the skeletons in his closet.

Goddamn.

Within the blackness, Spock could feel flashes of red emitting from his right arm and left leg. He wasn't quite sure what was happening – only that he was in a healing-trance for some reason. His entire body was paralyzed and his mind was sluggish, but his other senses were working, though not as sharply as they should be. There was a crackling noise and the smell of something burning. There was another sound bordering on hissing, like someone muffling a groan.

It was familiar and it made his heart race with unfounded alarm and concern. He couldn't understand why that made him so afraid, but not for himself. There was someone that he had to watch over, to protect and shield. He couldn't fail. Not again.

He heard the noise again and almost like someone slapping him, he suddenly remembered hurtling down a cliff with Jim. He remembered Jim's arms trying hard to turn around and protect him. And then blackness. He didn't know if Jim made it alive. He didn't know if Jim was safe and uninjured, and he had to know. Forcibly, he started to fight towards full consciousness. For Jim.

Struggling, he willed his stubborn eyes open. His vision was blurry for a few seconds; he could barely make out the sight of a small fire and a figure past that. When things cleared up, he realized that Jim was on his knees, his back taut and straight. His friend was turned away from him, slightly bent over. The muffled hissing sounds were coming from him. Jim had the hem of his shirt in his mouth, the fabric pulled up to reveal bruised and scratched skin. There were cuts marring his cheek and right about his left eyebrow and lines of pain were creasing his usually handsome face.

"Jim?" Spock questioned, trying to shift to see what Jim was up to. Instantly, he regretted it and fell back down with a groan.

"Hey, stay still. Your body took a huge beating," Jim called out, dropping his shirt in surprise. His blue eyes flashed in concern, but he didn't move from where he was positioned.

Spock almost frowned. "Are you alright?"

Jim snorted. "You're asking me that? You broke your tibia and your radial bone, dumbass."

There was an angry tint to Jim's words and Spock thought he understood the reason behind it.

"I apologize, Jim, for disobeying your orders and following you on-planet."

"There's no need to apologize for that, Spock. I figured you guys were going to do something stupid like that."

"And yet, you are angry."

It was a statement, but Jim could hear the question in his words. He shrugged, glancing back at the laceration that he was currently stitching up. He still had a few more to go, but his hands were trembling from the pain now, making it difficult. Luckily for him, Spock couldn't move and Jim knew that Spock couldn't see what he was doing. The Vulcan, as ridiculous as it was (and yes, Jim knew he was going to be a hypocrite), was going to blame himself for not protecting Jim well enough. Spock didn't need that while he was this injured.

"I'm not angry," Jim sighed, gritting his teeth and diving back into his task. He hid the wince as the needle dug into his tender skin and as it pulled a thread with it.

"I somehow do not believe that."

Jim tied off the last of the stitches and jerked his shirt down, subtly dropping his needle and thread into his open backpack. "What do you want me to say, Spock? That you guys are ridiculously overbearing? That you guys don't know the meaning of personal space?" Jim got to his feet and stepped around to check on Spock's injuries. He was gentle, but Spock could see how hard Jim's teeth were gritted.

"Jim…" Spock started.

"Shut up, Spock. I don't want to talk," Jim snapped, before taking a deep breath. His next words were calmer. "You're going to be fine. I've set your arm and leg and you don't have any internal injuries. We don't have any means of contacting the Enterprise, but I'm sure they have a search party out. I did promise to check-in every other hour, so I'm probably at least six hours or more overdue. Now, here's the plan: seeing how you can't really move at the moment, we'll rest here for the night and head out in the morning to meet them. Or find some way to contact them and beam you up for treatment."

"You mean, beam 'us' up, right?"

"I still have a mission to accomplish, Spock. You weren't supposed to be down here in the first place."

Jim sat back on his heels, once again masking a grimace that Spock caught. Spock opened his mouth, but Jim cut him off.

"How are you feeling, Spock? Do you feel unusual pressure anywhere?"

Spock mentally categorized his injuries. Besides the obvious fractures in his right arm and left leg, he didn't seem to have any other major wounds and he said so.

Jim just nodded and turned back to coax the fire quietly.

If Spock was fully human, he would have squirmed uncomfortably with the awkward silence and he couldn't help but break it. "Jim, I am sorry," he started again.

"Stop saying that!" Jim hissed, swinging around. His eyes flashed coldly and angrily. There was something deeper to his rampaging emotions than what Spock could understand, but he knew that he had to figure it out before it festered.

"What are you truly angry about, Jim? I do not understand why you are angry at the crew for caring for your wellbeing."

"I told you, I'm not interested in talking."

"We seem to have more time than we had expected…"

"And whose fault is that?" murmured Jim, but Spock kept going as if he didn't hear.

"You might as well explain to me why you have become increasingly short of as of late with the crew. You do not lose your temper so easily, let alone against the people whom you constantly sacrifice your life for."

Jim ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled. It was now or never. If he made the hard sell to Spock, his plan could quite possibly work. He let a broken expression creep onto his face. "Look, I know I'm a screw-up. I keep going over the entire scenario in my head, thinking of ways to avoid getting Chekov shot, to avoid getting caught, and I know that there had to be something that I could have done. But every time I think back to it, I wake up with the feeling of blood on my hands."

Just like that, Spock could see a little bit of Jim's chaotic mind. "Have you been having nightmares?" he asked, his words slightly breathless from horror.

"What do you think? I spent two weeks in captivity getting tortured while spending every second of that trying not to flashback to my past. And then my stepfather makes an appearance." He looked at Spock with such pain and sorrow in his eyes. "I'm only human, Spock. Did you really expect anything less?"

"You did not seem to show any signs of distress," frowned Spock. How had he missed this?

"I didn't have the luxury! You guys were already tiptoeing around me like I was going to fucking break at any second. I was trying to move on, and you guys were making it damn hard." He shifted uncomfortably, not quite completely hiding his wince. "Look, I understand where you guys are coming from. I get it, I really do. I've been in your position before. I've lost more than I've gained, but I am not weak. I do not need to be reminded every second of my life about my own shortcomings."

"Jim, that was not our intention."

"And I get that. I know you're all just looking after me and I'm really trying to let you guys, but smothering me and depriving me of my freedom isn't helping me move on. But I know that that's just how you guys are, and that makes it my problem, not yours. So I'll deal with it on my own. Why else did you think I wanted to come down here alone? I needed space and I still need space. You guys need to respect that." Jim looked away again, knowing his point had been made. Then, he changed his tone to something more aloof. "You should've scanned the ground before you beamed down, Spock. You're losing your touch."

"My apologies."

"Stop apologizing, Spock," Jim groaned. "You literally just let me land on you like a fucking cushion. I think that puts me in your debt, so let's just say we call it even?"

"That is amenable."

Jim couldn't help himself and chuckled. "You can't just say 'agreed' like a normal person?"

"Then, as you would say, you would be bored."

"Oh look, the Vulcan has a sense of humor!" mocked Jim playfully.

Spock found himself once again amazed at how easily Jim could manipulate the conversation. One second, the atmosphere was tense and heavy, but now, there was a lighthearted tone to it and Spock was drawn into it before he even realized it. He shifted and bit back a hiss as his injuries reared its ugly head. He had to withdraw from the conversation in order to detach himself from the pain.

There was a rustle from across the cave and Spock glanced over to see Jim rummaging through his back again.

"Jim?"

"I can't believe I didn't manage to lift a hypospray from Bones. Sorry, Spock. Can you go back into your healing trance or something? I've got nothing to relieve the pain for you."

Spock hesitated.

Jim rolled his eyes, understanding. "No, you're not leaving me behind, Spock. I need you at full capacity for tomorrow. Well, as much as you can manage. Just go into your trance, Spock. I got your back."

Clearly, Spock was apprehensive, worried of Jim and his lack of self-preservation instincts. "Are you sure that you are alright?"

"Yes. Get some rest, Spock."

Spock reluctantly acquiesced and closed his eyes. He could hear the crackle of fire as he started to drift deeper and deeper into a healing trance. The last thing he heard was a muffled coughing, but it was so quiet that Spock thought it was his imagination and disregarded it.

And then he knew nothing.

Jim sighed when he saw Spock sink into his trance. His chest tightened for a brief, painful second, and Jim hastily tried to muffle all sounds of his coughing. He glanced over at Spock, making sure that he was still out for the count. Thankfully, he was.

He scooted a little bit closer to the fire as a shiver racked his body. It was cold, but it wasn't something Jim couldn't handle. So why was he feeling it? He coughed quietly again and then realization hit him like a bomb.

Oh, Bones was never going to let him out of his sight again. Goddamn it. His lungs were probably still too compromised from pneumonia and the weather was only making it worse. All of a sudden, he remembered Zeke – a young boy of seven. He had fallen into a river in the midst of a cold winter when Kodos had his reign. J.T. had dived in to save him and hugged him until they both warmed up, but Zeke had inhaled some water. Days later, Zeke developed pneumonia. They had no medication, nothing to save him. Out of some miracle, Zeke recovered and whilst he was regaining his strength, Kodos' men found them. J.T. was forced to move them all, running for miles and miles under the cover of night. It was so cold that they could all see their breaths like a continuous fog before them as they panted and ran. Zeke fell sick a day later and he was gone the next. J.T. didn't even have time to bury the poor boy before being forced to flee with the rest of his kids again.

Jim shook his head, shaking away the memories. Now wasn't the time to reminisce. He had other things to worry about. Spock was going to be in a world of hurt when he woke up again. No matter how much of a healing trance he was in, Spock's bones were still going to be broken. In order to even get beamed out of here or have a chance of meeting his crew who was more than likely looking for them, they would have to climb upwards and out of the canyon.

Suppressing another groan, Jim leaned over to take out a flashlight and a black, long-sleeved shirt. Lucky for him, he was more prepared than usual, which was quite funny considering that he had overpacked because Bones would not stop nagging at him. He pulled on his shirt with a wince, covering the bloodstains, and got to his feet with a little difficulty.

He leaned against the wall of the cave, catching his breath for a second, before heading out. The night was chilly and he hunched his shoulders to preserve heat. He wandered into the forest, switching on the light. Keeping his eyes peeled to the ground, he rummaged through the undergrove. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, so he glanced at every single plant, every single weed.

It took an hour so before his toe nudged a plant. Bending down, he examined it more. It was a hardy perennial flowering plant, but it was what he wanted. He wasn't interested in the plant itself. He pulled out his boot knife and started to dig carefully around it. As soon as the entirety of the plant was in his hands, Jim headed back.

To find the valerian root, Jim had wandered out pretty far and he was worried that he had left Spock out in the open – susceptible to any animal or outside attack – but he hadn't seen any living thing since he had been on planet. He had been so caught up with helping Spock that he hadn't even paused to think of the abnormalities of this world.

Now that he was calmer, he realized that he hadn't heard any insect noises, no bird sounds. Why was that? Where had they all gone?

Obviously, the foliage was thriving, so whatever it was, it didn't affect plants. He ran through his mental database on what could possibly affect every single living thing and leave flora untouched. Disease? Virus? But there wasn't any that he knew of that could infect all sorts of species. Human interaction? There would be signs of damage and havoc. All he could remember seeing was the burned remains of a village, but that wasn't enough to go on.

He was still thinking when he returned to the cave. He cast a glance over at Spock; the Vulcan was still in his trance, but the fire had gone down some. Even with Jim's jacket, he was starting to shiver again.

Jim went around the fire to pick up his backpack, threw a couple of pieces of wood into the fading embers, and plopped down right beside Spock, resting his uninjured side against the Vulcan's. Making sure that he kept contact, Jim started stripping down the valerian plant to its roots and proceeded to hold it over the fire, but not close enough that it got roasted. Just enough for it to dry and shrivel. Once it was ready, Jim gently stored it into the outermost pocket of his backpack.

As he watched the fire dance before him, Jim found himself mesmerized and all of a sudden, the day's events started to weigh down on Jim. All his injuries, all his aches became ever so pronounced. His chest was too tight, too strained. He could feel blind panic for a brief second, scared that he was getting sick again. If that happened, what would happen to Spock? The Vulcan couldn't drag both their asses out of here, even if he had inhuman strength.

He shook his head, calming himself. He was being ridiculous. There was no doubt in Jim's mind that his crew was out there looking for them and they would find them by morning. All Jim had to do was stick it out for a few more hours, figure out what the hell happened to this planet, and he was back to being coddled by his crew.

Without really wanting to, but knowing that it was necessary, Jim laid down next to Spock, curling up so that when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw would be the mouth of cave.

He was asleep before he even realized it.

Sounds of screaming broke through the peaceful darkness, rousing Spock from his trance. He floundered sluggishly, trying to figure out who was crying out. There was a cadence of young children yelling and whimpering out of fear and pain. What the hell was going on?

Spock forced his eyes open and found himself on a very familiar, bloody field. He had been there before, but it wasn't from his own memories. Three tiny children of all ages were huddled on the ground, hiding behind a young J.T. who was determinedly defending against a group of soldiers. He was snarling at them, like a feral dog, with a knife in his hand.

Spock blinked once and all of a sudden, all three kids were on the ground, lifeless eyes staring up at the grey sky. J.T. was drenched in blood and fell to his knees, his hands shaking as he reached out towards his children. Tears dripped slowly down his cheeks and a piercing scream tore through the air.

Suddenly, Spock was jerked into consciousness, breathing heavily and feeling the remnants of J.T.'s agony and sorrow run through its course. Beside him, he could hear Jim breathing heavily, his panting bordering on coughs.

"Jim…" Spock started, turning slightly to look at his friend, noting that the fire had completely died down. The movement itself caused his injuries to flare painfully, but not as harshly as the night before.

Jim was sitting up, his head tucked between his legs as he tried to get his breathing back under control. H

"Jim, are you alright?"

It took a moment for Jim to respond. "Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." He still didn't move even when he spoke. Clearly, he was still trying to get a hold of himself.

"That dream…"

"Shit, you saw that? Sorry. Didn't realize I was broadcasting."

"Do you have these nightmares often?" Spock asked gently.

"Occasionally. Usually when something reminds me of Tarsus or Frank."

"What...?"

Jim didn't give Spock a chance to finish his sentence, knowing full well what Spock was about to ask. He answered anyway, trying to buy himself more time. "Spending the night in a cave. Used to hide in them when we could." There was more to what had set off his nightmare, but he didn't feel like going into it at the moment. He hadn't expected the nightmare and despite him hatinghow weak it made him feel, it would help him get more space from his overbearing friends.

He took a deep breath, composed himself, and raised his head, straightening his legs and stretching. His expressions had been wiped clean and he was actually smiling at Spock. "So, how's the leg and arm feeling this fine morning?"

Spock was so thrown off that it actually took him a moment to consider what Jim had said. Since when did Jim start to hide things from him again? More importantly, since when did Jim feel the need to have to hide?

Perhaps Spock and the rest of them truly were pushing Jim too much. Clearly, Jim just needed some space, so Spock swallowed all of his questions and answered Jim's. "Slight pain, but it is nothing I cannot handle."

Jim handed him a dried up root. "Here, chew on this. I didn't have the means to make it into a tea, sorry."

"What is it?"

"Valerian root. Supposed to relieve pain."

Spock dutifully obeyed. The taste was bitter and earthy, but as he chewed, he could feel a certain numbness touch his senses. "It also seems to be a bit of a sedative, no?"

"Ah, yeah," came Jim's distracted response. He was already packing up his backpack and pulling it onto his back. "Sorry, it was the best I could find out in the woods."

"How do you know what herbs to use?"

"I was bored one summer and studied herbalism. Come on, we got to get to high ground or Enterprise can't lock onto our signals. Take it easy, okay?" Jim extended a hand to help Spock up. He wrapped Spock's left arm around his shoulder and eased the Vulcan to his one working leg.

Spock's vision wavered as the pain skyrocketed, but it tapered off as he got a hold of himself. He didn't even notice Jim's wince as the extra pressure pulled on his recent stitches. Jim felt a couple snap, but he ignored it and took a tentative step forward. Spock followed and step by step, the two of them quietly made their way to the woods where they slowly climbed upwards.

Both kept their ears peeled for the search parties. Neither spoke, too focused on controlling the pain. Until Spock broke the silence.

"Jim, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" panted Jim.

"It sounds like children giggling."

"This planet should be uninhabited. Why would there be children here?"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, twenty or more red wispy balls floated down around them, giggling and bouncing happily. They looked like spheres of fire that were about the size of a basketball.

"What the hell are those?" asked Jim, blinking in surprise.

Spock was equally baffled. "I have no idea. These beings were not on any reports and did not appear on our scans."

"You think they had anything to do with the planet getting abandoned?"

"Perhaps. They do not seem harmless."

"Play, play!" cried the wisps, bouncing up and down in excitement. Their voices were in unison, making them seem more ethereal.

"Huh?" Jim said ever so smartly.

He gasped as the wisp swooped in, touching him lightly on the chest. In that instant, it burned, leaving behind an angry, scorched mark on Jim's skin – right under his left clavicle. Jim barely managed to stop the hiss of pain from escaping him.

The wisp giggled and bubbled back, glowing brighter with each chuckle.

"Oni! You are oni now!"

"Oni? What do you mean by that?" demanded Spock, even as he struggled to stand up straighter. He glanced over at Jim who had repositioned to place himself between Spock and the army of wisps.

Jim touched the welt absentmindedly as his mind turned. "Oni…oni…where have I heard that from?" he murmured. And then a lightbulb flashed above his head. "Tag! They're talking about a game of tag!"

Spock looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Jim ignored him, a strategy already forming, and addressed the wisps. "You want to play a game? Yeah?!" There was false excitement in his words, riling up the wisps more.

"Game! Game!" the wisps cheered in a childish chorus.

"I've got a great game for you! It's called hide-and-seek! Have you heard of it?" Jim's voice was so cheery that it made his own head hurt.

The wisps wilted slightly. "No…"

"It's fun! I used to play it all the time when I was a kid. I'm going to count to one hundred and you all find somewhere to hide. After I get to one hundred, I'll go find you. Whoever is the last to be found, wins!" Jim shifted to clap his hands jovially while still balancing Spock. "Let's play!"

"Let's! Let's!" cried the wisps, swirling around excitedly.

"Ready. Get set. Go!" Jim exclaimed.

All the wisps shot off in all different directions and Jim didn't even hesitate as he started to drag both him and Spock upwards, hopefully away from those wisps.

"Jim, what did they mean by 'oni'?"

"In Japan, the person who's 'it' in tag is known as 'oni', or demon. They were trying to play a game with us, so I sent them off with another one."

"Have you seen those creatures before?"

"I have no idea what those things are, but they're dangerous. I assume that anything it touches burns and they have the minds of a fucking two-year-old. Shit. We have to get back to Enterprise before the search crew encounters them."

Jim's words sank in and Spock remembered the slight flinch from Jim when the wisp touched his upper torso. "Jim! Did you get burned?"

"Just a little, but you better not freak out about it. We don't have the time."

Jim nearly started hauling Spock upwards, completely ignoring all of his body's protests. His mind was stuck on one track, and that was to get Spock out of potential danger as quickly as possible. He had no doubt in his mind that these wisps – whatever they were – had caused the human population here to flee. These wisps probably killed off all the living things on this planet, hoping to play some sort of game. The foliage was left alone – things that couldn't talk couldn't play with them. With no animals and nothing truly to live off of, the people had to leave, especially if the wisps came looking for them.

What he didn't understand was why none of the escaping people had informed Starfleet of the reason. Was it that they didn't think anyone would believe that wisps, of all things, had drove them from their home?

Jim thought about how this would sound to the Admiralty in his report and realized how ludicrous he would sound. They were already on the ropes with him, often questioning all his actions and decisions. If he told them that wisps – unregistered lifeforms, according to Spock, so their existence couldn't truly be proven – had burned down the villages in an attempt to play? Yeah, he was so going to get written up for insubordination for pulling shit out of his ass.

No wonder the people never spoke of what happened, leaving speculation and rumors to take care of a legitimate reason. It was so simple! And here he was, trying to make things so much more complicated than they actually were. The simplest explanation was usually the truth – it was Occam's razor.

He wanted to laugh hysterically. Seriously? All this trouble for beings that had the intelligence of a two-year-old? And he was going to get so much shit from his crew after all this too. He could feel his nerves grate at the thought of it.

But perhaps that was all Jim's fault. Ever since he was young – for as long as he could remember – if he was suffering, if he was having hard time, he learned to keep it to himself; to solve it himself. His allowance of his friends to hover over him was his sad attempt at letting others care for him, but he wasn't used it. His way of dealing involved shoving everything down, squashing it, and moving on. It wasn't exactly the healthiest of methods, but it worked for him. He could deal with things in pieces; he couldn't if he was drowning , struggling to keep his head above the waters.

He knew that his friends meant well. He really did, but every second of every day, they kept reminding him of everything he didn't want to remember. And yet, he didn't speak up. He didn't tell them what the problem was and it only worsened, for all of them.

Occam's razor. All he had to do was say one word. It wasn't as complicated as Jim had made it out to be in his head. It was easier than what he was trying to accomplish anyway. One word and he could have all the space that he needed to do what he needed.

He got pulled out of his rampaging thoughts when he heard Spock's grunt. He froze, realizing that he was pushing the two of them too harshly.

"You okay, Spock?" panted Jim.

They had almost reached the top of the canyon where they had beamed down. There was still no sign of the search parties, but they could've easily been hidden behind the trees that were slowly tapering off as rocks and sandstone took their place.

"I'm alright, Jim," breathed Spock. There was sweat dripping down his pale face and there was a green flush to his cheeks. Lines of pain were drawn all over his expressions, but there was still determination in his eyes.

Jim took that as a good sign and pressed on.

"I have a question, Jim."

"Fire away," Jim grunted. All they had to do was go a few more meters and they would be on the canyon. From there, Jim wasn't too sure where to go. Jump up and down until the Enterprise got the idea and beamed them up? It might work, if they were constantly scanning for their signals. And knowing them, they probably were.

"What are we going to tell the Admiralty?"

"What do you mean?"

"They will think that we have, as you would say, 'gone off the deep end'."

Jim snorted. "I think you should file the report. Sounds more plausible coming from a Vulcan."

"I refuse."

"What? Why?"

"I have a reputation to maintain."

Jim burst into chortles, the sudden laughter reeling them off balance. Jim barely managed to catch Spock before more damage was dealt to the Vulcan, but Spock's weight pulled on his stitches and he felt all them tear.

"Goddamn it!" he swore loudly, hissing at the pain.

"Jim?!"gasped Spock, both in his own agony and concern for his friend.

Jim didn't get a chance to respond before swirling white lights started to surround them. Oh good. For once, he was glad for his crew's paranoia.

He blinked and suddenly, both he and Spock were back on the Enterprise. People swarmed around them and Jim felt Spock being pulled away from him.

"Careful with him," Jim called out, "He's got a broken radial bone and tibia!"

Scotty was still at the console, grinning and giving Jim a thumbs-up. Obviously, he was proud of being able to beam Jim and Spock up without any eyes on the ground, so to speak. It was quite impressive and Jim just gave him a curt nod. Uhura was helping Chekov and M'Benga with Spock; Sulu was nowhere to be seen, unlike Bones who had just shoved himself into Jim's personal space.

"And what about you, Jim?" demanded McCoy. "You okay?"

"Yeah, thanks to that dumbass over there." Jim thought about it and decided that it might be better if he came clean before McCoy pulled out his tricorder. "I might need some more stitches though. Nothing too serious."

He stiffly moved his way to the edge of the transporter pad and sat down, sighing in relief. "Where's Sulu? Is he part of the search party? Call them back. Now." The urgency in his voice sent Scotty scrambling over his console. "Recall all personnel. No one goes back down. Mission over, got it? Oh, and get us out of this quadrant please, Scotty."

"What's going on, Jim?" asked Bones.

Jim glanced over at Spock, making eye contact, and he grinned. "Why don't you get Spock to tell you?"

Spock paled further, if it was even possible, and Jim started laughing outright, just as Sulu and a few others transported back. It certainly was a sight to see: Jim, who was bruised, scratched, and quite frankly, looking like he had gone through the wringer, was bent over with laughter while Spock, who looked twice as worse as Jim, was arguing with Jim like his life depended on it.

Sulu nudged McCoy, "So uh…what happened down there?"

"I have no freaking idea."

"Do we want to know?" Sulu asked, raising an eyebrow as Jim fell onto his side, clutching his stomach in laughter.

"Honestly? I don't think so." McCoy stepped forward and slammed a hypospray against Jim's exposed neck. Instantly, he was unconscious, tilting backwards into Bones' waiting arms.

"M'Benga, you got the hobgoblin?" called McCoy, shifting his grip on Jim's limp body.

The other doctor nodded and started to lead Spock back towards the Sickbay.

"Well then, let's get this idiot treated so he can explain what the hell went down." McCoy started to drag Jim off the pad.

Sulu followed, his expressions incredulous. "Wait, are you just going to drag him all the way to the Sickbay?"

McCoy just flashed him a smirk.

Sulu actually felt bad for Jim.

Hours later, Jim was sitting in the Sickbay at the edge of Spock's bed. He had been treated by McCoy (rather roughly, if Jim wanted to be honest), and his laceration and burn healed, muscles relaxed. His bruises and scratches had mostly been cleared and his lungs, after a few hyposprays, felt much better. Spock, on the other hand, was still under the bone regenerator, but he had mostly been healed as well.

McCoy stood in front of Jim with his arms crossed while Sulu sat across from his two commanders on another bed.

"So, where are Uhura, Chekov, and Scotty?" Jim asked. "I assume we're having another 'ask Jim all the questions' sessions. They usually don't miss this."

"Uhura is trying to field off the Admirals for your testimony; Scotty and Chekov are on shift," McCoy responded. "What the hell happened?"

"Well, Spock beamed down on top of a sheet of mica. We fell through, he broke his bones, and we spent the night in a cave."

"You actually did a pretty good job setting the Vulcan's bones. And the stitches were done well, surprisingly," said McCoy, his tone dry and purposefully patronizing.

"Hey! I'm actually certified in emergency field triage!" protested Jim. "There's no need to sound so surprised."

"Since when were you certified?"

"Second year at the Academy?" shrugged Jim. "I got bored one summer."

"Isn't that program a year long?" asked Sulu.

"Genius, remember?"

"So the genius want to explain why you ordered us to leave the planet?" grouched McCoy.

"Uh. I think Spock can handle that."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Captain, I do not want to take away from your glory. The story is yours to tell."

"You're a bastard, you know that? Bones is gonna lock me up and throw away the key."

"It is you who discovered what happened to the village. I did nothing but slow you down."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. For the record, Bones, I am not crazy."

"That's a good start," groaned McCoy. "Makes me feel very reassured."

"Uh. So there wasn't a virus or a serial killer as the rumors say. There are these wisps that are made of fire, I think, and they burn everything they touch. They like to play games, like tag, and they drove the humans out of their village because, well, they wanted to play and no one could touch them."

"Wisps?" Sulu questioned, his eyebrow rising.

"Yeah, but they don't appear on our scanners as lifeforms. Don't know why though."

"So there's no actual proof that these things exist?"

"I got burned by it! I'm not exactly stupid enough to accidentally burn myself on my chest."

"And you ran from these so-called wisps?" McCoy clearly was hiding mirth in his tone.

Jim sighed, knowing full well how he sounded. "Look, I didn't know what these things were and I didn't want to stick around to find out. They had minds of a two-year-old; there was no reasoning with them. And they have the ability to burn whatever they touched. That's why there weren't any living things on the planet."

"Uh huh."

"Spock, back me up here!"

"What he says is true," Spock affirmed with a nod.

Sulu and McCoy stood there in incredulous silence.

"You're shitting me, right?" gaped McCoy.

"Nope. Told you'll think I'm crazy." Jim leaned back a little and patted Spock's left leg – the uninjured one, "I told them. You get to file the report."

"I do not believe we have made such a deal, Jim," sniffed Spock.

"You know I can't do it! They'll officially diagnose me with insanity!"

"I am a Vulcan. If I do it, I will be brought to New Vulcan to see if I have fallen terminally ill."

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"You are, as you often like to remind us, a genius. You figure it out."

"Bones calls me an idiot all the time! I'm an ingenious idiot! Clearly not qualified to make such decisions."

Spock laid back and closed his eyes, pretending to fall back asleep.

Jim childishly grabbed a pillow and threw it at Spock's face. "Damn bastard! You're not sleeping or in a goddamn trance! Stop pretending!"

But Spock didn't move, though there was a slight smile on his face.

Bones and Sulu literally had to pull Jim away from Spock before he dislodged the machines.

"No, Bones, you don't understand! This is about my reputation!" protested Jim, though he did allow himself to be moved away.

"Yeah, well, people think you're crazy anyway. Might as well solidify it," said Bones.

"I can't! Someone's out to destroy my reputation! They're out to destroy me!"

"And that's the paranoia speaking, which means it's time for you to go to sleep. Night night."

Bones didn't even hesitate to press a hypospray against Jim's neck. For the second time that day alone, Jim was out for the count. McCoy was gentle in maneuvering Jim onto a biobed though.

"I'm assuming you're not telling Kirk about what Pike said?" Sulu asked McCoy quietly, knowing full well that Spock could hear them.

"What did Pike say?" questioned Spock, sitting up with a slight wince.

McCoy got closer to Spock and lowered his voice. "The rest of us know, but you can't tell Jim. Pike and I both think that if Jim learns about this, he'll try to strike first and that won't end well."

Spock frowned. "Explain."

"You remember the whole thing with Frank?"

"It is hard to forget," Spock almost growled.

"Frank was hired by someone, right? He said someone from Starfleet. Pike said that in his interrogation, Frank mentioned something about there being a bigger plot behind it all. Something about taking Jim down, but none of us can figure out how. The point is: someone's after Jim and we have to keep a closer eye out on him."

"That may be difficult. Jim has mentioned that he is having difficulties dealing with the events that have occurred in recent missions, particularly with his captivity in Germany as well as Frank's reemergence. He claims that our constant presence merely reminds him of his shortcomings and he cannot move on."

"He wants space, doesn't he?" sighed McCoy. "He always does this – pushing people away."

"We have to respect his wishes, Doctor. Jim has his own way of dealing with his past."

"It's not healthy."

"But we are not helping either," Spock said softly. "Let us give him the space he needs, if only for a short while. He can push us away, Doctor, but we cannot push him away."

McCoy knew Spock was right. He didn't like it, but he knew that they had to do this, or Jim was going to run as far as he could. His shoulders sagged and he nodded, giving in.

"Fine, but nothing about Pike's conversation reaches his ears, alright?"

"Understood," Spock replied.

Little did they know that Jim didn't need to know what Pike had said. He already knew, and even let slip a hint, though they had disregarded it as a part of Jim's childish banter with Spock. It was the reason why he was meticulously pushing his crew away.

Jim was already readying himself for the battle of his lifetime.

And his crew knew nothing of it.

(The responsibility of writing the report of the wisps ended up falling to Scotty, who was crazy and probably drunk enough to agree. Later on, the crew of the Enterprise learned that Scotty's report, which was verbatim to what Jim and Spock had told him, was tossed out before anyone even read it. Apparently, the Admiral to whom the report went to was Archer, and the moment he saw Montgomery Scott's name at the top, he scornfully threw it away, preferring to not deal with whatever story Scott wrote. He did file the mission as a success and moved on.

And thus, the crew of the Enterprise managed to maintain their reputation, much to Spock and Jim's glee. Turns out, they were all ingenious idiots, and they loved how they could get away with everything. Well, almost everything.)

Chapter Text

 XII

Buried Six-Feet Under

"For the record, I want to say that this was not my fault," Jim said lightheartedly, shifting slightly against the ropes that were bound around his torso and arms to get more comfortable.

"I truly beg to differ, Captain," Spock snapped back, unpleased with the slight burn that the movement had invoked onto his side of the bondages. "Please desist in struggling. It is only making our situation worse."

Jim snorted, clearly still amused, "You realize that I'm trying to get us out, right? 'Stop struggling'…it's like telling me to not to antagonize Bones. It just isn't done."

"I have advised you against it, have I not? At this juncture, escaping may result in a direct war against the Federation and Admiral Pike has explicitly informed me that you are over your quota for the month on that subject."

"Testy, testy. I got it. No trying to escape."

"I would also prefer that you, as you would say, 'shut up'."

"Excuse me? Is that any way to talk to your Captain?" Jim shot back, mirth in his voice.

Spock wanted to smack him, but he was more dignified than that and settled for a patronizing tone. "Need I remind you that we are to be buried alive in less than five minutes, Captain?"

"Yes, I'm aware. I'm watching the Nayahians dig our graves."

Jim still sounded so gleeful with absolutely no worry. No doubt the genius had a plan, but Spock wasn't exactly pleased on the fact that he was going to be buried alive. Quite honestly, Spock really thought that most people under their circumstances would panic, but Jim wasn't exactly normal, was he?

He sighed. "I do not understand why this is amusing for you, Jim."

"I've never been buried alive before!" Jim said excitedly. "I've always wanted to try it!"

There was a moment of pause as Spock digested his words. "You…" Spock struggled to find the words. "You are certifiably and most absolutely clinically insane."

Jim just flashed him a bright grin and Spock found himself regretting accompanying Jim on this mission.

Really, Spock never even should have left his bed this morning.

That was his first mistake. Everything just snowballed from there.

There was someone out there that was horrifically angry at Jim, he just knew it. For the past two weeks, the Enterprise had been assigned milk runs - simple deliveries and missions that didn't even require Jim to beam down. He was being punished for something that wasn't even his fault (probably) because why else would he be so freaking bored out of his mind?!

And his crew was hiding something from him. He was like ninety percent sure he knew what they were "indiscreetly" trying to keep from him. He wanted to snort at the thought of their not-so hidden side glances at him and the various chances to just check on him. They were keeping such a close on him that they wouldn't even let him leave his goddamn ship!

Don't get him wrong. He loved his ship. He really did, but he did not appreciate being stuck on her for a seemingly indefinite time. Especially when his crew thought that they were keeping him safe from whatever unknown danger Pike had warned them about. Sometimes, Jim wondered if they actually remembered that he was a genius and was more than capable of hacking and figuring things out, but that was beside the point.

At least his crew did give him enough space to get over Frank and whatever crap happened in Germany. His psyche was now perfectly content to bury the events somewhere he would never touch again. His body was completely healed as well and he was back to full strength, which meant that he was getting antsy, aching for some sort of action. Even with the imminent danger hovering over his head, Jim needed to stretch his legs and breathe some sort of fresh air. It didn't even have to be oxygen!

Jim had made his boredom quiteclear to his crew. He wouldn't put it past them to find something for him to do soon, and he was counting on it.

He heard a chuckle close by him and Jim didn't have to look to know that it was Scotty that had joined him in one of the observation decks where he sat, leaning backwards on his arms with his legs stretched out comfortably in front of him.

"Ya look bored, lad," Scotty greeted as he joined Jim on the floor.

The room itself was dim and Jim relied on the stars' lights to illuminate Scotty's figure beside him. "What gave you that idea?" he responded, his tone light on the sarcasm.

"Tha way you're tapin' tha floor with yer foot. Careful, yer gonna make a hole and ah ain't gonna be pleased by tha. Whacha doin' here anyway? Weren't ya supposed ta be gettin' lunch with McCoy?"

Jim shrugged. "He had a patient."

Scotty grinned, understanding "Jim-speak" well. "Meanin' ya ran from him."

"He was brandishing a hypospray! I had to initiate some sort of self-defense mechanism!"

"And why was he tryin' ta hypospray ya?"

"I may have been getting on his nerves," Jim said sheepishly. "In my defense, I was bored."

Scotty chortled. "Tha ain't a good defense, Jim. But have no fear. I bring great tidings!"

"Yeah?"

The hopeful look on Jim's face was like a puppy waiting for a treat. It was absolutely priceless and Scotty wished that he had something with him to take a holo of it.

"Spock says tha a new mission just came in and tha yer required ta beam down."

"Yes!" exclaimed Jim, launching to his feet as he did a tiny happy jig, completely ignoring Scotty laughing openly at him. Then he paused and peered suspiciously at Scotty's face. "Did you guys purposely look for a mission for me? Isn't that against the whole 'Jim is banned from leaving the ship again'?"

Scotty threw up his hands. "It couldn't be helped! You were gettin' on everyone's nerves!"

Jim grinned. "Good enough for me!" He jovially high-fived Scotty's still raised hands and practically waltzed out of the deck to burst onto the Bridge to see Spock, Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura already at their stations.

"Aw, you all waited up for me? You shouldn't have," teased Jim, plopping down into his chair.

Uhura rolled her eyes as she turned to look at him with a fond exasperation in her expressions. "Pike wants us to negotiate a trade with the planet, Nayah. We're entering their atmosphere soon."

"Sounds good. I don't even care about the details. Just happy to be going somewhere." Jim happily swerved around in his chair before glancing up at his friends who were all judging him silently with amusement in their eyes. "So…who tattled to Pike about my 'insufferable' behavior to get this mission?"

"That'll be Spock," Sulu said. "Or McCoy. It could've been all of us. You'll never know."

"So cheeky so early. I think that's insubordination, Sulu," quipped Jim. "You're lucky that I'm in a good mood. Spock, what's going on with Nayah?"

"Nayah wishes to become a part of the Federation and Starfleet believes that trades will solidify a relationship before any progress on that matter can be made," Spock dutifully replied, turning to speak directly to Jim.

Jim nodded. "So a diplomatic mission, in other words."

"Correct. As such, there is a need to inform you of the Nayahians' culture."

"Give me a crash course."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I should hope that we do not choose a course that will lead to irreparable damage to the ship."

Jim raised an eyebrow back. "I swear you're doing that on purpose, Spock. There's no way that after hanging out with me for two years, you still don't understand slang."

"Perhaps my mind has been too preoccupied with blocking out unwanted distractions to remember clearly."

Uhura snickered. "That's his way of saying that if you annoy him, he has every right to annoy you back."

"I feel like I should be offended. Should I be offended?"

"Of course not, Keptin," Chekov said, winking at him.

"Et tu, Chekov?"

Chekov just grinned at him.

"Alright, that's it. No more snark from the rest of you, ya hear?" But Jim was all smiles. "So what's the culture like for the Nayahians?"

"They are similar to that of the ancient Greeks of Earth in clothing and tradition. I do believe that their customs are comparable to the Classical Period. Politically, however, the royal family holds all the power. Currently, King Acacius and Queen Elpis are on the throne with their daughter, Princess Xenia, and their son, Prince Nikias, next in line." Spock paused, thinking of all the possible ways that Jim could get into trouble with. "Also, the Nayahians do not indulge in ferocious entertainment, such as gladiator battles."

"Well, at least there's that. Wouldn't want a repeat of the last time we encountered a race that had that." Jim didn't pause to let his friends mull over what he just said. If he did, no doubt they would panic again. "Sulu, how long before we land?"

"One hour at most, sir."

"Great. Anything else I should know, Spock?"

"The Nayahians have made it clear that they prefer to deal with Starfleet in small numbers on our end. I suggest that your landing party be composed of at most three individuals."

"Any volunteers?"

Sulu raised his hand. "I'll go. I need to stretch my legs a bit too."

"Spock, you should probably go with them too," advised Uhura. "The two of them together is never a good thing and you know how Kirk is around people."

"Hey! I'm charming!" protested Jim.

Spock actually looked crestfallen at the prospect of joining Jim down on-planet. He had been hoping to catch up on some of his research that he had set aside for a quite some time now. It would be quiet while Jim was gone and Spock could work in peace, but Nyota had a point.

He let out a quiet huff that was equivalent to a Vulcan sigh. "Fine. I will join you, Jim."

"Don't look so happy, Spock. It'll put me off," Jim said carefully. His tone was light and joking, but there was a wariness in his body language, as if he was afraid that he really had upset the Vulcan somehow.

It was unbelievable that Jim – possibly one of the brightest and strongest men that they knew – still had such a low self-esteem of himself. Granted, he was cocky and arrogant on a normal day, but behind that mask was a sense of such low worth and hatred of himself that his crew usually tried to spend every minute of their time with him to prove that he was important and worth every second. Even Spock, the "emotionless" Vulcan indulged in this practice to show Jim that despite what the world and his past said, they cared for him, and nothing would change that.

"It will be my pleasure," Spock affirmed sincerely as he stood. "You should get ready, Jim. Lieutenant Sulu and I will be waiting for you at the transporter pad."

Whatever trepidation Jim had in his eyes instantly disappeared (much to the pleasure of his crew) and he jumped to his feet, clapping once. "Right! Sulu, Spock, I'll see you in ten minutes." He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "This is going to be fun!" he exclaimed as he bounded towards the turbolift.

Sulu groaned. He hated when Kirk said that. It always meant something was going to go wrong. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Chekov just slapped him on his back encouragingly. "Hawe fun, Hikaru!" he laughed.

Yep. He was definitely going to regret this, and boy, was he right.

Upon beaming down, Jim, Spock, and Sulu were greeted warmly by the thinly dressed Nayahians. They closely resembled humans with dark skin, only they all had varying lengths of antennas erupting through their heads like insects. They all wore white togas, tied together with different colored cords. Gold was reserved for the royal family, as Jim noticed. Blue was probably for those of the council and purple was for priests. Dirty brown indicated a peasant status. Ones without any cords were slaves.

Though deeply upset about the sight of that (it made Jim remember his time on Tarsus and he loathed anything that ever reminded him of that horrid time), Jim plastered a smile on his face and greeted the King with all the cheer he felt for finally being off his ship.

"King Acacius, it is an honor to meet you," Jim said, reaching out to shake Acacius' hand.

Acacius was a tall, slender man with curly black hair. He was full of power and charisma. He had a chiseled face and well-defined features; his antennas were long and jittered as he got near Jim. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Kirk. We have heard of your stories," Acacius greeted warmly. Though he had no accent, his Standard was overly enunciated. Clearly, he had trained hard for the Enterprise's appearance.

"All good things, I hope," Jim grinned. "This is Commander Spock and Lieutenant Sulu," he said, waving at his friends.

"We have also heard of you, Commander Spock," Queen Elpis breathed, her voice smooth and soft like honey. The middle-aged woman stepped around her husband to come fully into view. Her long white toga trailed behind her; it wrapped tightly around her gorgeous figure. Her long, silky black hair was tied into a side braid and pulled forward to rest in front of her shoulder. All of her attention was devoted solely on Spock, her brown eyes sparkling with interest.

Jim wanted to laugh at Spock's apparent discomfort at the scrutiny, but he got distracted by the sight of the young princess standing quietly by Elpis. She was tall and thin, but with curves that would make any straight man turn his head. She had olive skin – not quite as dark as Elpis or Acacius – but she still had some of the same features as the royal couple. Her angled face resembled that of her beautiful mother; she had the same nose and eyes as her father. Long, wavy black hair tumbled around her shoulders; her skin was completely unblemished and glowing. She was absolutely gorgeous, to say the least.

Without really thinking about it, Jim stepped forward and took the princess' hand, kissing it once as he gave her his best smile.

"Princess Xenia, it is a genuine pleasure to meet you. You are much more beautiful in person. The stories do not do you justice," Jim smiled.

He could see her immediately intrigued and charmed. She shyly tucked her hair behind her pointed ear and smiled gently at Jim.

Sulu rolled his eyes at Jim's coy antics, but said nothing.

King Acacius didn't seem to notice the silent flirting going on between Jim and his daughter and stepped forward to shake Spock's hand. "I apologize that my son is not here to greet you. He is currently occupied with other matters. This is my Prime Minister, Iason," Acacius introduced.

Iason, a middle-aged man that was probably slightly older than Acacius, bowed his head in greeting. He was bald and wrinkles were clearly drawn on his owlish face. The Prime Minister was draped in more cloth, hiding his more roundish figure, with a blue cord with strands of gold woven through it - the blend was a signal that he was ranked above a councilman, but not quite part of the royal family.

Jim glanced at him, tearing his eyes away from Xenia. Instantly, Jim felt something was off. He couldn't pinpoint it, as if there was something shielding the Prime Minister from his ever intuitive eyes. As Jim continued to cold-read Iason, he felt a certain foreboding emitting from the alien, but he hid his frown and smiled with decorum.

Politely, Jim nodded at Iason. "Prime Minister."

"Captain," Iason returned, his voice monotone. "It is an honor to meet you."

An awkward silence fell as introductions ended, but Acacius quickly filled it. "You must be tired from your long trip. Please, come in and rest for a night."

"I appreciate the offer of hospitality, your Highness, but we couldn't possibly overstep our boundaries. We are more than happy to return to our ship if you are not yet ready to conduct the negotiations," Jim said carefully.

"Nonsense. We merely want to extend our hand in a welcoming gesture, Captain. It is not often that we get such highly respected guests. My son was in San Francisco when Nero attacked, so my wife and I are most thankful for your heroic acts. You saved his life."

Jim squirmed slightly uncomfortably. He still didn't know how to take compliments, particularly for something that he didn't feel he should take credit for. Nero was an accident; he was just lucky. Extremely lucky, and he still felt the guilt of losing those hundreds and thousands of lives, including Gaila's. He had never gotten the chance to apologize to her for using her skills to cheat on the Koboyashi Maru or tell her that she meant something to him.

Sulu nudged him and he realized that he had frozen imperceptibly. Instantly, he plastered a cocky smile on his face. "Well, I do what I can."

"Come, we have prepared our best rooms for you and your men." Acacius signaled his people and Jim, Sulu, and Spock found themselves being ushered into the palace.

It was grand and ostentatious – like a Byzantium palace with its walls covered in glittering mosaics of significant Nayahian historical events. Servants bustled around – a few glanced at the foreign party to their home, but most ignored Jim and his friends as they continued to do their work. It was obvious that Acacius kept a tight ship here. Eye contact was avoided at all costs, even towards the gorgeous Princess Xenia, which was something that Jim was having trouble with.

But Jim wasn't called a genius for nothing. From the interactions of the Nayahians, Jim knew that flirting with the royal family was completely and one hundred percent forbidden. Despite his reputation, Jim knew exactly when and where he was allowed to have a little fun. Back at the Academy and the years before that, Jim used sex as a coping method – there were no repercussions to his string of one-night stands (except for that occasional ex that would try to castrate him when he broke everything off). Now, he actually had responsibilities. He had people to care for and burdens that he couldn't set down. As Captain, he couldn't keep up that reckless behavior and maintain the integrity of his position.

He was going to stay the hell away from Princess Xenia while he was here – there was no point in tempting himself with something that he knew couldn't happen. Ah, sometimes being Captain sucked, but what could he do? In his position, it meant that he had to be wary of every move and every word, and if that meant being all alone? Well, that just came with the territory.

Still, he didn't miss that sly smile that Princess Xenia sent him before his bedroom door was closed behind him with a polite order that Jim remain there until dinnertime. It was a little unusual that Jim had been sequestered into his quarters in broad daylight. He would have to ask Spock if that was a specific Nayahian custom, but it would have to be later seeing how Spock and Sulu were sent to their own respective rooms. He didn't even have the time to object before his door was closed shut in front of him.

He'd think about that later. For now, he had to play on a hunch that he had gotten when he was greeting the royal family. The King and his wife looked a little bit nervous at their arrival. Perhaps it was just because Jim was Jim and the Enterprise was starting to gain a reputation, but he had taken note of the slight pull on the Queen's brow – a sign of anxiety and worry – and the King's darting eyes, as if he was scanning for assassins up on the roofs.

Jim had an inkling of what they could be concerned about. Someone that they cared about – maybe themselves or those on their council – was in imminent danger.

How did Jim know that? Well, he just did. He couldn't explain his reasoning behind it all even if he tried, but that was beside the point. He had an idea of who could be behind it all, and if he could stop it before it occurred? Pike might give him a freebie the next time he screwed up (because he just knew that was going to happen sooner or later).

He waited around his room for maybe ten minutes; during which, he stripped down to his black undershirt to become more inconspicuous before quietly opening the door. Poking his head out to glance at the empty hallways, Jim took a couple of deep breaths before stepping out. He proceeded to disappear into shadows a second later.

This was what Jim was best at – not diplomatic relations or being the leader of hundreds and thousands of people – it was hiding in the darkness, planning and plotting.

And damn did it give him a rush.

The moment Jim was ushered into his room and the door closed tightly behind him, Spock and Sulu started protesting to the King.

"King Acacius, I would prefer that we are not separated from our Captain," Spock said quickly, even as their small welcoming party started to shoo them down the hall. "It is our duty to protect and keep our Captain safe, but we cannot do so if we are apart."

"Nonsense," Acacius dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Our palace is safe. Captain Kirk will come to no harm as long as he remains in his quarters."

"What if he doesn't?" frowned Sulu.

Acacius paused. "My guards may not recognize him and may attack. Though I have announced your arrival, my people are a little overprotective of my family and me. It is the safest for your Captain to be placed in his own quarters."

They came to a stop a good distance away from Jim's room and one of the servants politely opened the door for them.

"This is your bedroom," Acacius said.

"The two of us are sharing?" asked Sulu, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "Then why can't we share with Kirk too?"

Acacius' eyes narrowed slightly at Sulu's tone, a little put-off by his seemingly disrespectful manner. "It is our custom to separate the castes. Your Captain is your 'King', no? Those not in the same hierarchy as him should not be overstepping their boundaries."

Sulu opened his mouth to argue some more, but Spock beat him to it. Spock hastily shoved Sulu into their room, his strength making the Asian man tumble backwards and lose his footing. "Thank you, King Acacius. We appreciate your hospitality."

Queen Elpis smiled at Spock, "It is our pleasure. Dinner is currently being prepared and will be ready in a couple of hours. We shall send for you and your Captain when the time comes. If you need anything, please feel free to ring the bell by your bedside and a servant will respond. For now, rest well."

"Thank you, Queen Elpis, and you as well," Spock returned smoothly as he stepped into his room.

A servant closed the door and he was left staring at the white wood with an unsettled feeling in his stomach. Jim alone on Earth was not a good thing, let alone on a foreign planet. He was a magnet for trouble and Spock worried that they might get thrown into the same situation as the time that they had tried to make an alliance with the Kalians. Jim fighting tooth-and-nail and bleeding for him again was not something that Spock wanted to be repeated.

"So, what do we do now?" Sulu questioned as he flopped onto the bed with a resignation that wasn't there a minute ago.

"We do as we are asked and remain in this room until otherwise notified," Spock responded, turning around to glance at the pilot.

"And Kirk? You know he's got a tendency to get himself into a pickle."

"If he remains in his quarters, things should progress, as you say 'without a hitch'."

"How much do you want to bet that he won't? I mean, did you see that look on his face when he saw Princess Xenia? I wouldn't be surprised if he sneaks off to uh…'get to know her better'."

"I should hope not. The Nayahian royal family is considered demi-gods. They are sacred and metaphorically untouchable. There are dire consequences for those that overextend their desires."

Sulu felt something akin to deep concern and panic flash through him. "Did you tell Kirk that?"

"I did not find it necessary."

"Are you serious? Do you not know about Jim's reputation as a womanizer? He slept with more than half the female population back at the Academy! He was a legend!"

"I was led to believe that those rumors are fairly exaggerated."

"Right. So he maybe slept with thirty percent, but you realize that that's still a ridiculously high number. Flirting is his natural default and if flirting with the royal family here isn't allowed? Well then, we've got a problem."

Spock fell silent, pondering Sulu's logic. It seemed sound, but he had noticed that Jim had purposely stayed away from Princess Xenia after the initial contact. Jim was a brilliant man who read people, seeing through their darkest secrets, and adjusted his behavior in accordance. He should have noted the wide personal space that the royal family had and the lowering of eye contact after a couple of seconds; Jim should know to not to get too close to Princess Xenia or Queen Elpis.

His thoughts were interrupted by another question from Sulu. "What happens if Kirk gets caught giving a little bit too much affection to Princess Xenia?"

This made Spock pause. He hadn't read anything in the reports regarding that matter. It was just assumed that the punishment was severe because no one in hundreds of years had made the fatal mistake of flirting with the royal family.

"I do not know."

"I hope we don't have to find out then."

Spock shot a look back at the closed door, worry pinching his features. "I concur."

It wasn't that he was worried about Jim doing something stupid – it was that something stupid would happen to Jim, particularly when he was alone and that spelt trouble for all of them.

Not for the first time that day, Spock wondered whether or not it was a good idea for him to leave the comfort of his bed that morning. He had no doubt that he would find out by the end of the day.

It was still early, after all, and that was absolutely worrisome.

Whispering voices reached Jim's ears as he crawled unnoticed on the rafters high up in the wine cellar that was located in the lower levels of the palace. He paused, his senses tingling. He had been wandering around for a little over two hours now, seeing most of the inner workings of the Nayahian palace.

It was a stereotypical Victorian British kingdom with the sects of classes clearly defined. Servants worked in the kitchens, cleaned clothes and quarters, and ran baths for the lords and warriors. The slaves kept away from everyone, never making any eye contact with those that walked past them, and in turn, everyone avoided them, giving them huge girths of space as if they were terrified to even touch them. Warriors trained in their respective courtyards – even Jim was jealous of the six-packs that all these soldiers had, and he had a fairly in-shape body. Priests stayed more congregated near the temples, constantly chanting and burning incense. Jim bailed on that as soon as he could – incense always gave him a headache (a byproduct of him staying with Tibetan monks for a month after Tarsus). He barely caught sight of the councilmen and the royal family – they all kept to themselves in their own quarters, except for Queen Elpis who had tended to a small garden and Prime Minister Iason, who Jim had yet to find.

Overall, nothing really seemed to be out of place and it took him a while before he found any signs of what could explain why he felt that something was amiss. And he finally found the Prime Minister skulking in the dank basements of the palace.

"Is everything set?" came Iason's familiar voice in the native Nayahian language. Jim was somewhat surprised that he could understand it without an issue. He recognized it to be a weird mix of Greek and French. It was a little bit confusing, but Jim translated it easily in his head, as if both those languages were his first language. He wasn't a genius for nothing.

Lowering his body further onto the thick piece of wood and staying absolutely silent, Jim glanced down into the dimly lit room. At that angle, he could clearly see Iason talking to another Nayahian who was dressed like the Prime Minister. He was wearing a purple cord, meaning that he was at least the level of a priest. Like the rest of his people, the Nayahian was dark-skinned with antennas sticking out from his head. They were particularly long, similar to that of Iason's, but unlike the Prime Minister, he had a head full of graying curly hair. He was short for a male – probably around five foot five, but he was also thin, like skin and bones.

"Yes, sir. The bomb has been placed in Prince Nikias' quarters. It will be detonated at your command. The other members are ready to take out King Acacius, Queen Elpis, and Princess Xenia so that you can take the throne, sir."

"Good, good."

"But what of the Starfleet dogs?"

"We have spent two years planning this. We cannot stop this even if Captain Kirk and his crew are here. We will wait for an opportune moment before we strike."

"What if they get caught in the crossfire? Even we cannot handle the wrath of Starfleet if they choose to avenge their people. I hear that Captain Kirk is a truly terrifying force to be reckoned with."

"It is of no matter. We can pin the whole unfortunate situation on the good Captain." Iason took a couple of steps away from his comrade. "No one knows of this, correct?"

"No, sir. I covered my tracks well."

"Good. Because we know what will happen if you are discovered…" The threat was thinly veiled, but it still made the other Nayahian shiver. "Wait for my signal, Myron."

"Understood, sir. What shall you do until then?"

Iason flashed the now-named Myron a sinister smile. "I have a welcome dinner to go to."

Immediately, Jim felt like someone had slapped him in the face. The dinner…he had almost forgotten about it. Shit. He had to be back into his room before anyone checked on him. If he was absent when they sent for him, it may cause unrest between the Federation and the Nayahians.

The Prime Minister was already gone, leaving Myron behind. Jim scrambled to follow, but in his haste, his foot scraped against the wood.

Instantly, Myron's head jerked up, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the darkness. There was a moment of pause before realization and recognition set in his features. Even with the dimness, Jim could see that his cover had been blown.

There wasn't much Jim could do at that point anymore, especially not when Myron was already pulling out some sort of communication device – no doubt to call backup – as well as a phaser-like gun that was much smaller than what Jim was used to seeing. His own had been left behind on the Enterprise as a sign of good faith and good will.

Jim probably had about two seconds before Myron's fingers pressed the dial button, so he acted swiftly. He rolled to his right, tumbling straight off the rafters and falling a good six feet to land a close distance in front of Myron. Jim didn't even hesitate as he emerged from his crouch, sweeping one leg under Myron's. The Nayahian fell over, unable to keep his balance, and his communicator when tumbling from his hand, but his other waved wildly in Jim's face. Jim winced slightly as the phaser went off centimeters from his ear.

In retaliation, Jim slammed his fist into Myron's face and the Nayahian went slack, unconscious the moment Jim's hand made contact. Stepping back, Jim looked for the communication device and found it an arm's length away. Jim got up to pocket it and searched the nearby vicinity for anything that he could bind Myron with. He was lucky enough to find some rope hanging off the wall and he grabbed it. Tying Myron in knots that even he couldn't loosen, Jim then crammed the Nayahian into an empty wine barrel before shoving it into the back corner of the room.

Iason was going to notice Myron's absence, but hopefully, not before Jim had time to formulate a plan against the Prime Minister and save the royal family's life. Jim wasn't sure of what the circumstances of why Iason was going to throw a coup, but Jim couldn't let anyone come to harm if he had the means to stop it.

Oh, this was going to bite him in the ass. He just knew it. Bones did always say that he meddled around a little bit too much. Jim had to concur, but he couldn't help himself.

Pulling out his boot knife, Jim carved out an airhole for Myron, double checking that it was enough to sustain the Nayahian for a day or two. Jim then slid out of the cellar. Utilizing his skills working under Komack and hiding from Kodos, Jim made it back to his room without any difficulties or encountering any servants or Nayahians along the way.

He barely had time to throw on his gold uniform and smooth down his messy hair before he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Jim called out.

A Nayahian servant opened the door, bowing, "Sir, the King awaits you in the Great Hall."

"Thank you," Jim smiled and breezed past him to see Spock and Sulu waiting for him along with a couple of servants.

"Captain, I hope your stay was restful," Spock said. There was a glint in his dark eyes, and Jim could almost hear Spock's real question of "I hope you stayed out of trouble, Jim."

Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because really, he couldn't exactly deny that. "It was lovely. Had a nice little nap."

Instantly, Spock and Sulu were on alert. Jim never slept in front of people he didn't know or in places that he wasn't familiar with, at least not by choice. If he was exhausted and trapped in the middle of a wilderness, he would only let himself have a couple hours of sleep only because it was necessary. With all that he had gone through, Jim just didn't take 'naps' in foreign locations.

For Jim to have said that he did, it was a subtle hint that something wasn't right, but Jim couldn't exactly say it without being obvious.

Spock gave Jim a small nod, signaling that he understood and he fell into step right next to Jim, close enough to step in if anything went haywire. Sulu followed suit, staying by Jim's left side.

The three were quickly ushered down the hallway, no doubt looking like a force to be reckoned with. As they stepped into the dining hall, Jim slyly managed to brush past Spock and whisper into his ear unnoticed. "Watch out for Iason," he breathed in Vulcan.

He pulled away quickly, almost as if he had never even got close to Spock. He didn't give Spock any time to react to his warning.

Instead, Jim smiled broadly at the royal family who had stood from their respective seats in a greeting. King Acacius and Queen Elpis were at the head of the long, rectangular table, with the King on the right side and the Queen on the left. Princess Xenia was to the left of the Queen while her brother was across from her on their father's side.

The Prince was a new face. He, like his sister and parents, was fairly handsome. His hair was cropped short, almost in the same style as Jim's. There was a strength hidden about him, quite like his father, but there was far more benevolence than Jim had seen in Acacius. Where Acacius was hard and cruel, Nikias was generous and kind. Perhaps Nikias' time in San Francisco had opened the Prince's eyes to new ideals, breaking himself away from the harsh traditions of his people.

Jim had absolutely no doubt that this man would change the foundation of his kingdom for the better. Sometimes, being trapped by customs and history could be crippling to a culture that wants to grow and expand. Though Acacius was taking the first step and reaching out to the Federation, Jim knew that he would never have done so if it wasn't for Nikias whispering in his ear.

Another line connected. No wonder Iason wanted to take down the royal family. They were about to revolutionize their people, but the fear of change was consuming the Prime Minister and the rest of the council. To them, something had to be done in order to maintain their livelihood, and if they had to get rid of the royal family, then so be it.

It wasn't going to be as simple as disarming the bomb hidden in Nikias' room now. Jim would have to expose the Prime Minister and all his cohorts if he was to ensure the future safety of the royal family.

As if Jim didn't already have enough problems. He still had Myron trapped in a freaking barrel, for heaven's sake!

But he plastered on a smile, particularly when he saw Iason looking his way, and swept forward, his gait graceful and elegant – every inch of the leader that he was.

"Captain, please, take a seat," King Acacius said, smiling and waving a hand to the empty chair next to Xenia.

Jim wasn't sure if he was pleased or exasperated that he was to be placed next to the beautiful Princes, but he didn't let that show, and he gave Xenia a charming smile as he sat down.

Spock sat down beside him, and next to him was Sulu. Iason took the seat directly before Jim, his dark eyes constantly watching the young Captain with an obviously fake, yet polite expression on his face. The Prime Minister was so consumed with watching Jim's every move that he didn't notice Spock doing the same to him.

"Thank you for your kind hospitality, King Acacius," Jim started as food was starting to be placed before them by silent servants.

The food was leafy and green with odd looking yellow chunks of…something integrated into them. Exotic fruits and meats decorated the table and their glasses were filled with some sort of alcoholic beverage. The royal family dug in heartily, as did Sulu, but Spock and Jim were tentative of joining in with gusto. Spock was vegetarian, after all, and Jim wasn't sure if any of these foods were going to set off an allergic reaction. They hadn't bothered to research into the Nayahian food because they hadn't thought that they would stay long enough to eat.

Jim spent the entire dinner pretending that he was eating and nodding vigorously at the correct points in Acacius' stories, keeping up the pretense that he was listening to him. Through the entire evening, Jim felt Iason's eyes on him – watching him like a hawk. It was unnerving, to say the least, and it made all him feel on edge, as if he was seconds from lunging headfirst into a brawl.

Yet, it wasn't quite enough to distract Jim from the smooth, elegant hand that was currently resting on his right knee.

He barely glanced at Xenia's hand, not wanting to draw attention to it, but he could see her blushing face from the corner of his eye. The Princess kept her eyes glued to her plate and for all intents and purposes, she looked as if she was merely too shy to join into the conversation.

A few times, Jim had subtly moved his leg away from her, but she continued to reach out for him under the table, and each time, her hand moved further and further up his leg until it was resting on his upper thigh.

Under normal circumstances, Jim would have loved this display of affection, particularly from a beauty like Xenia, but he knew that it was against the law in Nayah. If he was caught, there would be consequences, and Spock and Sulu could be dragged into it as well. The relationship between the Federation and Nayah will become strained, if not broken, and Jim simply wasn't going to risk any of that.

He was about to push her away again when Iason suddenly sprang to his feet, a look of outrage on his face.

All chatter immediately stopped as his chair scrapped loudly against the floor.

"Is something the matter, Iason?" asked Acacius, frowning with obvious irritation. The man had no patience for disrespect, which was something that was going to be so troublesome for Jim in just a few seconds.

Iason pointed a finger at Jim. "How dare you?!"

Jim gave him a confused look, hiding away the slight panic that was rising. "Excuse me?"

"How dare you lay your hand on our kingdom's beloved Princess?!" he spluttered. "You dare touch our land's treasure?!"

Xenia flinched away from Jim, immediately acting horrified and innocent, even though she was the clear instigator. It was easier to blame someone than face the disappointment and anger of a parent, but that left Jim as vulnerable as a deer in highlights.

Shit. This was going to end so well…

Acacius sprang to his feet, his dark complexion flushing purple with sheer fury. Elpis reached for her daughter, pulling the girl closer to her and wrapping her arms around her, as if she could shield Xenia from Jim by her presence alone.

Jim had expected all that and raised both arms high in the air in a sign of surrender. He did note Nikias shooting Iason a look – he didn't have time to decipher what was in that one glance, but it was interesting. It meant that Nikias had an inkling that this may be one of Iason's manipulative plots. Filing that away for later, Jim put on the most innocent mask that he had. He widened his big blue eyes, showing the King and Queen his confusion.

"Your Majesty, I assure you, I have no idea what Prime Minister Iason is speaking of. I would never touch your daughter, sir," Jim said slowly, his voice cajoling.

But even as Jim spoke, he knew that he wouldn't get through. Acacius was a stubborn bull with a one-track mind. The moment an idea was placed in his head, he would never be able to move from it. No doubt that was how Iason managed to get to where he was – he used Acacius' faults to his advantage.

"Guards! Seize him!" roared Acacius.

Jim sighed and stood, resignation clear in his body language. Spock and Sulu followed suit, but Jim gave them a hard look. "Don't do anything stupid, you hear?" Jim hissed. "I'll fix this somehow, but the two of you need to stick around and smooth things over. Do you understand me?"

Spock and Sulu just looked at him like he was crazy.

This was going to spiral downwards quickly.

"Your Majesty, I must protest against this unjust arrest of my Captain," Spock called out. "I have been watching over Captain Kirk for the entire evening and not once have I seen him reach out for the Princess."

"Of course he would say that!" Iason retorted, pointing furiously at them. "He is merely trying to protect his Captain! I saw Captain Kirk touch the Princess under the table! My King, I would not lie to you – not about this."

Spock continued to argue on Jim's behalf and as he did, Sulu glanced over at Jim. Jim didn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation, but there was a look on his face as he stared at Iason. Sulu wanted to groan in exasperation. He knew that look – it was the one Jim always had on when he was piecing together a puzzle. There was a reason behind Iason calling Jim out, even though he clearly hadn't done anything, and Jim had figured it out. Only, the genius was going to let things play out so he could confirm his suspicions, which meant that Sulu and Spock were going to be dragged around as the loyal friends that they were.

Really, they should have known better than to let Jim beam down.

"Spock, Sulu, stand down," Jim said loudly before King Acacius had the chance to speak. "My King, it is obvious that nothing we say will prove my innocence. I do not want to strain our relationship over a mere misunderstanding. Do what you want with me, if it will make you feel better, but leave my crew alone. If you so wish, they will continue to conduct our business in peace."

"You are an honorable man, Captain," Nikias said, rising to his feet. "I admire that. Father, perhaps we should listen to what he has to say."

"The law is the law, Prince Nikias!" exclaimed Iason. "Sire, you cannot possibly allow this man to make a mockery of our traditions. What will that say to our people?"

"The punishment is too dire, Father!" Nikias argued. "The Federation will not be pleased."

"You will choose the Federation over your own people, Prince?"

"I will choose whatever is right, Iason," Nikias snapped back. "Father, you cannot possibly condone Captain Kirk to his death."

"Whoa, death?" Sulu piped up, but he was completely ignored.

King Acacius waved the guards over who grabbed Jim's arms and forced it behind his back as they held him captive. "Captain Kirk, it is unfortunate, but I must uphold our traditions. For desecrating our treasure – my daughter – I sentence you to death by burial."

Sulu frantically tried to reach for Jim, but was held back by Spock. "Death by burial? What does that even mean?!" yelled Sulu.

"It means, Lieutenant Sulu, that he will be buried alive," Iason replied with a slight smirk.

"Oh, hell no!" Sulu tried lunging forward again as Jim started to be dragged away. Spock's steel hands on his upper arms kept him back.

"Lieutenant," Spock whispered lowly into his ear, "I have no doubt Jim will have a plan. I expect you to come to our aid when the time comes. Until then, stay low. We will need you."

Confused, Sulu stopped struggling. "What are you talking about, Spock?"

"Disappear, Lieutenant. Now!"

Spock released Sulu and in a few bounding steps, he lunged for the men holding his Captain. With precise movements, Spock incapacitated two of them with the Vulcan pinch, leaving one last one who pulled out a taser of some sort and jabbed it into the Vulcan's back.

Wordlessly, Spock flinched and twitched as the electricity coursed through his body. He fell to his knees, blackness creeping at the edges of his vision. The last thing he saw was Sulu slipping out in the midst of all the chaos. He felt Jim's hands on his shoulders and Jim pulling him closer, snarling at anyone who came near. Spock had no doubt that Jim had fought off everyone in order to get to him. Despite having his consciousness wane, Spock felt safe in Jim's arms, even with the threat of being buried alive hovering over their heads.

He let a small smile touch his lips as he felt Jim's hands tighten. Now that Spock was part of the equation, Jim's self-preservation instincts were going to have to kick in, because he would have to stay alive to keep Spock safe.

Jim may be a genius at strategy, but it didn't mean that Spock wasn't one either. He could play the game just as well as Jim, especially when it came to Jim.

It all rested on Sulu now and whether or not he could hide in the shadows well.

He heard was Jim whispering into his ear. "We're going to be alright, Spock. Sulu got away. It's going to be fine."

Of course Jim would know exactly what Spock had planned. Hopefully, it didn't throw Jim's own plans off.

Darkness took over Spock and the last thing he felt was his body being pulled away from Jim.

Then, all that Spock knew was that he was more worried about being apart from Jim than his imminent death.

So much for being logical.

There was an annoying, incessant poking in Spock's back. Irritated, Spock tried to swipe whatever it was away, but his body was still sore and unresponsive. He had just realized that his eyes weren't even open yet.

"Hey, you awake yet? You're going to miss all the fun, Spock."

The voice was one that Spock would recognize, even half-conscious and dazed out of his mind. It drew him out of the fog that he was in, and slowly and achingly, he opened his eyes.

Sunlight shone brightly against his face, forcing him to blink a few times before his pupils could adjust and shrink properly. A throng of Nayahians were surrounding him, all shouting loudly in encouragement. Beyond them were slaves, efficiently and diligently digging two separate holes – just large enough for him and Jim.

Speaking of which, Spock could feel his friend against his back. They were both tied upright against a wooden pole. If he shifted slightly, he could turn and look at Jim whose bright eyes were staring at him with concern deep within those blues.

"You okay?" he asked.

Spock was absolutely unsurprised that that was Jim's first question. "I am alright," he assured.

"For the record, I want to say that this was not my fault," Jim said lightheartedly.

All of a sudden, Spock felt irritation blooming through his chest. Though he was sure that Jim was not directly responsible for their current situation, he knew that Jim could have easily found a way out of this whole thing without even batting an eye.

That meant that Jim had something in the works, which was not something Spock was against, but he hated being in the dark.

Jim started squirming again.

"I truly beg to differ, Captain," Spock snapped back. "Please desist in struggling. It is only making our situation worse."

Jim snorted, clearly still amused, "You realize that I'm trying to get us out, right? 'Stop struggling'…it's like telling me to not to antagonize Bones. It just isn't done."

"I have advised you against it, have I not? At this juncture, escaping may result in a direct war against the Federation and Admiral Pike has explicitly informed me that you are over your quota for the month on that subject."

"Testy, testy. I got it. No trying to escape."

"I would also prefer that you, as you would say, 'shut up'."

"Excuse me? Is that any way to talk to your Captain?" Jim shot back, mirth in his voice.

"Need I remind you that we are to be buried alive in less than five minutes, Captain?"

"Yes, I'm aware. I'm watching the Nayahians dig our graves."

Spock sighed. "I do not understand why this is amusing for you, Jim."

"I've never been buried alive before!" Jim said excitedly. "I've always wanted to try it!"

There was a moment of pause as Spock digested his words. "You…" Spock struggled to find the words. "You are certifiably and most absolutely clinically insane."

Jim just flashed him a bright grin and Spock found himself regretting accompanying Jim on this mission.

"Please tell me you have a plan, Jim."

There was hesitation, and that never meant anything good for Spock.

"I'm sorry that you got tazed, Spock. I didn't mean for that to happen. I wasn't expecting you to act as bait so that Sulu could get away, but thanks, that helps me out quite a bit," Jim said lowly.

"Did Lieutenant Sulu manage to stay hidden?"

"As far as I know, but half the population is looking for him. Hopefully, he remembers all my training."

"What training?" asked Spock, suddenly curious.

"Don't worry about it. I swear I didn't touch the Princess."

"I believe it."

Jim twisted around to glance at Spock, scanning for any inclination of a lie. "Really? With my reputation, I wouldn't have blamed you if you thought that I did something."

"I have no reason to not believe you, Jim."

"What if I tell you that we're probably going to have to be buried alive?"

A beat later. "Excuse me?"

"Iason is plotting a coup against the royal family, and I need to lure him into a false sense of security before I fight back."

"Why do you not just tell the family what the Prime Minister is about to do?"

"You think they'll believe me at this point? And I don't have proof."

"How do you know this then?"

"I may have uh…crawled around and overheard a conversation."

"And why does that lead to our immediate predicament?"

"Well, first of all, you weren't supposed to go all mother-bear on me and attack the guards. This was just supposed to be me."

"Do you truly think that we would allow you to be purposely put in danger?"

"Yeah, I really should have seen that coming. That was my mistake. Won't repeat that again."

The two saw Nayahians approaching them, making Jim speak more quickly.

"This is going to be ridiculously dangerous, Spock, and I'm sorry."

"What about you?"

Jim gave him a strained smile. "I survived Tarsus. You think I can't survive this? Please. I'm James fucking Kirk."

"That does not make you invincible, Jim."

"No, but it makes me damn near close. The moment you're under, go into a trance. You use less air and you can last longer. Stay alive, Spock, or I'll drag you back just to kick your ass. Do you understand me?"

"You as well, Jim."

They didn't have time to say another word before the guards grabbed each of them. Spock and Jim went with no fuss and allowed themselves to be manhandled to their wooden coffins.

King Acacius stood before them, a stony look on his face. "Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, do you have last words?"

Jim smiled, a hint of coldness and threats hidden in his passive expression. "Please be careful, King Acacius. There are dangers that go past these graves, sir."

Not knowing what to do with that, Acacius just nodded to his people who shoved Jim and Spock into their respective boxes.

The sound of the hammer nailing every last centimeter of freedom away echoed in Jim's and Spock's mind.

And then there was nothing but silence.

Not for the first time, Sulu thought that Jim Kirk was one crazy son of a bitch. Even from his safe distance, he could see Jim smiling and joking with Spock. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he was sure that Jim's cheekiness knew no bounds.

Sulu pressed his chest closer against the ground, subtly drawing the nearby leaves of the bush towards him. He froze as a Nayahian passed by a few feet before him. Jim's words echoed through his mind: Human eyes track movement. If you want to be unnoticed, blend into your surroundings and above all, don't move.

It was one of the many pieces of advice that Jim had given him during their training sessions. A few days after the wisps incident, Sulu had approached Jim about teaching him how to be more useful in operations. After all that they had gone through, Sulu was tired of being completely unable to help and rely solely on Jim. Half the time, that was why Jim ever got hurt in the first place – protecting someone because they couldn't do it for themselves.

Sulu and the rest of the crew had had enough of it.

Chekov worked directly under Spock, learning all that he could with programming and cyber intelligence; Uhura trained emergency triage under McCoy and Scotty had sought out Sulu to teach him some fighting skills. Sulu, on the other hand, went to Jim to learn the abbreviated version of "how to be a spy". It had taken several months of harsh, vigorous training before Jim had declared Sulu passable.

Frankly, Sulu was surprised that Jim had agreed to teach him that particular skill set. As far as he knew, Jim hated being an undercover operative and he would never wish it upon someone else. Yet, Jim was more than happy to show Sulu all his tricks and trade secrets.

But even with all that he learned, Sulu was fairly certain that he couldn't take the entire Nayahian population down to save Kirk and Spock. He wasn't Jim. And while he knew that with the Enterprise backing him, saving them would be no problem, he wasn't sure that that was what Jim wanted.

Jim wasn't the type to let himself get into these kind of dangerous situations without a plan. He would never have let this happen to him and Spock unless he meant to, which meant that Sulu had to play along.

He would have to wait until the crowd dissipates and even longer if Sulu wanted to dig them out in peace.

Sighing, Sulu laid his head on the crook of his arm, almost inhaling the dirt beneath him, as he mentally prepared himself for a long haul.

Hopefully, Jim and Spock could last that long.

The darkness and silence was deafening and it made Jim more anxious than he thought it would. The air was stifling and stale. It had only been an hour and Jim already felt like the world was crushing his chest.

He closed his eyes (didn't make a difference), but the simple act of it allowed him to calm down. Sulu was out there, no doubt waiting for the perfect time to dig him and Spock up. He was a little worried that Sulu would call in the cavalry. If it was Bones or Uhura, Jim knew things would never have progressed this far, but Sulu? He was a man after his own heart. Sulu didn't let emotions rule him. Jim was seventy percent sure that Sulu would wait to see what he would do.

The other thirty? Well, Jim only had so much time and life left before Sulu and the rest of his crew blew up the goddamn planet to save him.

Jim started testing weight of the box. It was heavy, as expected, and there were no weak points. If he managed to break through, the sudden rush of soil was going to suffocate him. He would have to work fast.

Working with the small space that he was in, Jim reached for his boot knife and started to poke at the corner to the left of his ear, close to the top of his head. The entire process was slow-going. He had to be slow so he used less oxygen. He estimated that he had probably another two hours before he passed out from the monoxide.

Slowly and achingly, Jim chipped away at the same point, ignoring the stream of dirt that was quickly trickling down.

Minutes passed, turning into an hour and more. A headache start to throb behind his eyes and he knew that it was a symptom of oxygen deprivation. He worked faster.

His knife suddenly broke through and a rush of soil dropped down on top of him. Coughing and gasping, Jim quickly ripped through the box above his chest while simultaneously started digging his way to the surface, but the velocity at which the dirt was falling was faster than what he could remove.

He was literally being buried alive.

With panic rising in his lungs, Jim reached upwards, clawing and grasping, thinking that this was the end. (He had survived Tarsus and he was going to be taken out by this?! The irony was ridiculous.) But out of nowhere, another hand grabbed onto his, pulling and dragging him until his head popped out above the surface.

The burst of fresh air slammed against Jim, shocking his idled mind. A goofy smile spread across his face as he tried to get his breathing back under control.

"You do not know how good it is to see you, Sulu," breathed Jim as his friend kept working around him to free the rest of his body.

"You crazy bastard. You couldn't have waited for a few more minutes before you tried to break out of a fucking coffin?!" snapped Sulu. "I was already digging for you, you damn son of a bitch! Imagine my surprise when the ground under me started shifting and your freaking hand pops out of the ground like a zombie!"

Jim could do nothing but laugh giddily, a little too happy on having fresh oxygen. "You use a lot of swear words, you know that?"

"Only when it comes to you, you crazy bastard," huffed Sulu, plopping down on the newly dug up soil beside Jim. "You okay there, man?" Concern laced through Sulu's words. "Sorry it took so long. I had to wait until everyone left."

"Yeah…yeah, I'm good. Thanks. You gonna get Spock now? I don't know where he's buried though."

"I got it," replied Sulu, nodding to another shovel that was stuck in the ground a good ten feet away from where Jim was buried.

"He should still have about an hour of air left if he did what I told him," Jim said, his breathing a little bit strained as he got to his feet. "But it's damn near uncomfortable in one of those things, so let's say we get him out?"

"You take it easy, Kirk. You look like you're about to keel over."

"I'm fine…" But his vision swayed the moment he was standing. He felt Sulu's hand supporting him and he shook his head. "You may have a point. I'm just…going to sit here and let you…" he waved a vague hand towards Spock's area. "Do your thing…"

Sulu snorted at Jim as he helped him back down and headed towards Spock's grave. He grabbed the shovel and began digging. "So, why did you let yourself and Spock get buried alive again? I never got to hear that part."

"In my defense…"

"Like that ever ends well," muttered Sulu.

Jim continued like he hadn't heard Sulu at all. "Spock wasn't supposed to be involved."

"And why did you guys have to be thrown under the bus?"

"Iason is planning a coup and he really didn't want me to know about it. Hence the accusation. He's trying to get me out of the way so that he can do what he wants and then pin it on me when I can't argue against it. But he has to be careful because the Enterprise is still floating up in their atmosphere."

"Iason?" grunted Sulu, digging in deeper. "That man disappeared as soon as the last nail was hammered in your coffin. Haven't seen him since."

Jim's head snapped up. "What?"

"Yeah, he ran out like his weird little antennas were on fire."

Jim leapt to feet, shoving down the feeling of vertigo, and almost tripped over Sulu's abandoned shovel.

"Kirk?" frowned Sulu, pausing in his movements.

"Get Spock out as fast as you can and then come find me."

"What the hell are you talking about? I can't let you go running off alone!"

"You can't let Spock suffocate either. I have to go, Sulu. It's a matter of life and death."

"Yours?"

"Don't be so melodramatic. I already had my one close-death incident of the day."

"Doesn't mean that you won't have another. Explain, Kirk!"

"They're going to kill Nikias."

"What? How do you know?"

"Long story. Get Spock out, ASAP. Oh, and go free that Myron that I've got trapped in a barrel in the basement. I'll need him."

"You've got who trapped in what? And where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to go stop a bomb."

"A bomb?! WHAT?! Oh, hell no, Kirk!"

But Jim didn't wait around to hear whatever Sulu had to say. He was sprinting off into the distance long before Sulu even had time to react.

He had a Prince to save, and hopefully, he would be there in time.

Jim's lungs were burning as he pushed him faster and faster to the palace. It was almost like that brief period of time after Germany when he was trying to recover from the scarring that pneumonia had left on him, but the air around him was fresh and full of oxygen. He would have been fine if he had just sat down and let his deprived mind soak in all that it needed before he decided to sprint his heart out.

As he neared the castle, guards had started to spot him and were yelling at him in their native tongue to back off or they would have to take drastic measures. They all raised their spears menacingly, but that didn't deter Jim. It didn't make him slow down. No, he sped up and instantly barreled through them with a few well-placed jabs and throwing one over his shoulder. He barely broke his stride as he made his way into what was supposed to be the most secured place in Nayah.

By this time, an army of soldiers were starting to gather, chasing after Jim. He completely ignored them, leaping around the castle and clambering upwards using the marble pillars because he just knew that the staircases were going to be blocked.

It only took about ten minutes for Jim to reach Nikias' bedroom – a testament to how scrupulous the Nayahian's defense was. If it was any other place, Jim probably could have gotten there in half the time, though perhaps being almost buried alive a few minutes ago also had something to do with how slow his muscles were moving.

He burst into Nikias' room, blatantly ignoring Nikias' surprised outburst of, "How did you escape?!"

Jim waved a nonchalant hand towards Nikias' direction. "That's not the right question, Prince."

He gave Nikias a quick look: the Prince had been sitting in his chair by his desk when Jim came in and had gotten to his feet, shock and slight anger on his face. But Jim didn't have time to explain. He knew that he had a few minutes left before all the guards in the palace came rushing in so he kept on searching.

He started to rifle through everything that Nikias owned. The dresser was shoved over with a loud thud; chairs were overturned and even the desk was flipped onto its back.

"Captain Kirk! I demand to know what it is that you're doing!" shouted Nikias, "Or I will be forced to take you down!"

Jim ignored him as he got onto his hands and knees and checked under the bed. A grin spread on his face. "Bingo!"

"Captain Kirk, I demand you leave this instant!"

"Oh shut your face," Jim snapped. He got onto his stomach and inched his way under the grand four-poster bed.

"Excuse me?!"

Jim pulled away and in his hand was a beeping contraption with a timer clearly ticking down on the display. There were three minutes and forty-two seconds left. "I'm trying to save your life, Prince," Jim stated.

He glanced up at Nikias. All the blood leeched from the Prince's face, leaving it stark white. Fear and alarm was clear on his expressions. The royal had frozen, unable to move.

"Keep your men back, Prince. I'm sure that I can disarm this, but I don't want to risk it. Get out and make sure no one comes near, got it?"

When Nikias didn't move, Jim got up into Nikias' face. "Prince! The timer is still going down! You must leave!"

Dumbly, Nikias nodded and shuffled to the door. Jim heard him leave and bark orders to his men to clear the area, leaving Jim in peace to deal with an impending explosion.

It was intricate, but crude. Jim probably could have been able to disarm the bomb, but as it was, he only had one minute and thirty-eight seconds left. Not enough time to completely stop it, but Jim could maybe rig it so that the explosion was smaller and get away before he got caught up in it.

He started ripping into the wires, reconnecting several. He could hear people shouting for him in the distance – no doubt Sulu – but Jim's whole world had narrowed down to these few wires and timer.

Sweat dripped down Jim's brow; the pressure was overwhelming.

The timer kept ticking.

Forty.

Thirty-nine.

Thirty-eight.

Jim was about half-way done. There wasn't enough time.

He moved faster, his nimble fingers dancing over the controls.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-six.

Shit. Shit. SHIT!

And suddenly, the whole thing was ripped from his hands.

Out of the blue, Spock was beside him, cooling snatching the bomb away from him and walking off with it.

"Wha…?" Jim was so shocked that he was left blinking dumbly at the emptiness in front of him before he actually registered what happened. By then, Spock was already out of arm's length.

Jim leapt forward, panic rising in his throat. Where the hell did Spock come from?! "Spock! That thing is about to blow!"

Twelve.

Eleven.

Ten.

"I'm aware," Spock replied. He leaned over the open window for a brief second before he threw the bomb outside with all the strength that he had. Without missing a beat, he lunged forward and tackled Jim to the ground, shielding him with his body.

Three.

Two.

One.

A large explosion rocked the very foundations of Nikias' tower room, but it held steady. And for once, Jim's luck didn't hold up and he managed to get out of the whole thing unscathed. No debris or shrapnel managed to get through and Spock's warm body didn't leave him until he was absolutely sure that there was no more danger.

Jim sighed in relief as Spock moved away from him, both staring at the wide, open sky. "Good to see you, Spock."

"And you, Captain. What were you trying to do with a live explosive device in your hands?"

"Two seconds and the nagging's already started. I think that's a record."

"I would not have to 'nag', as you've said, if you had a little bit more self-preservation instincts than a mayfly."

"Excuse you, I definitely have more self-preservation instincts than a mayfly. I take offense to that." But Jim was amused, just as Spock was, now that that they were sure that they were safe.

"You guys okay?" gasped Sulu, running in and doubling over as he tried to catch his breath.

Jim chuckled. "Are you okay?"

"You try running after a Vulcan and see if you'll be okay," Sulu snapped back, straightening back up.

"I have. No issues here. You must be out of shape, Sulu."

"Well, not everyone can be superhuman like you."

"Do not inflate his ego, Lieutenant. We may not be able to fit him back onboard otherwise," Spock said.

"Hey!" protested Jim just as Sulu nodded and said, "Good point."

Their banter was interrupted as Nikias and his personal guards came back in, staring at both Spock and Jim who were on the floor and Sulu who had stepped around to defend the two of them.

"At ease, Lieutenant Sulu," Nikias said calmly. "I am not here to arrest or harm anyone. I am here to give my thanks."

Jim waved a dismissive hand. "No thanks needed. I was just doing my duty."

"Even still, you have saved my life despite my father sentencing you and your friend to death. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, Prince."

"Still, I wonder who it was that planted that bomb. This is attempted murder on a member of the royal family and heir to the throne. We cannot let the culprit escape this easily."

"Ah…I think I have an answer to that," said Jim, "Sulu, did you get that little present I told you about?"

"No. I was too busy trying to chase after a Vulcan and make sure that you didn't get yourself blown up." Sulu sounded fairly exasperated, and Jim was pretty sure that it was directed at him.

"Right then, I guess we'll have to take a little field trip."

Jim stood just as Iason came running into the room with both King Acacius and Queen Elpis behind him.

"Sire! I heard about the attempt on your life! Are you alright?" exclaimed Iason.

"I'm alright, thanks to Captain Kirk."

Iason stiffened as he saw Jim, Spock, and Sulu all standing there, and Jim just smirked at him.

"Spock, will you do the honors?" Jim said sweetly.

"Of course, sir," Spock replied, his expressions as venomous as Jim's was saccharine. The Vulcan stepped forward just as Sulu walked around and shoved Iason's arms' behind his back.

"Prime Minister Iason," Spock said, "For the attempted murders of Captain Kirk, Prince Nikias, and myself, I place you under arrest under Federation laws. If the Nayahian government should choose to pursue a course of action instead, the Federation will relinquish our hold of you to them. Do you understand?"

"Captain, these are some serious allegations. Do you have evidence to support your accusations?" asked King Acacius.

"Yes, where's the proof?!" screamed Iason, immediately struggling against Sulu.

"If you resist, I will be forced to take action," Spock threatened.

"Those Vulcan pinches aren't pleasant, Prime Minister. I advise you to listen to him," Jim smiled. "As for your proof, I have it secured down in the cellar. If you would all follow me."

Without another word, Jim swept out of the room with the royal family, their guards, and his crewmates following behind him. The passing Nayahians once more gave them odd looks as they passed by, but they all ignored it as they made their way to the wine cellar.

Once there, Jim made a beeline to his marked barrel and jacked it open. He reached in and pulled a shaking Myron upwards.

Before anyone had any chance to speak, Jim leaned down and whispered into his ear in the Nayahian's native language. "I am sure you know who I am and what I am capable of. That was why you were worried when I landed, wasn't it? Now, if you do not tell the truth, I will be forced to show you what I am truly capable of."

Myron hissed back. "I am not afraid of a mere human such as yourself."

Jim's blue eyes went cold and hard. "This mere human survived the massacre of Tarsus IV." He paused, his tone sending shivers of gut-wrenching fear down Myron's back. "Are you afraid of me now?"

Waves of bloodlust and icy anger rolled of Jim, literally terrifying the wits out of Myron. The alien couldn't even respond verbally anymore.

Jim just smirked. "Will you tell them what you and Iason were talking about earlier?"

Myron nodded.

"If you lie, I will act on it," Jim said, letting the blank threat hover over Myron's head.

Jim pulled away and glanced back at the confused King and Queen who had not heard what Jim had said. "He's my witness. Myron, tell the King and Queen what your dear friend, Iason, was planning. In Standard, if you could, so my men can understand what you're saying."

"Prime Minister Iason, a few other members of the Council, and I have not been pleased with the direction that our kingdom is going. As such, we plotted to remove the source of these changes to maintain the integrity of our traditions and customs," Myron whispered, but then his voice got stronger. "However, it was Prime Minister Iason who laid out the plans. We were forced into it!"

"Liar! You are a part of this as much as I am!" yelled Iason.

"So you admit to the whole scheme, do you?" grinned Jim.

It looked like Jim slapped Iason in the face. "What? No. I…I didn't…"

Jim tilted his head, smirking. "That sounded like a confession. Spock, did that sound like a confession?"

Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but responded nonetheless. "Yes, sir. It did."

"My King, you cannot listen to these outsiders!" yelled Iason in the native tongue. "I have been your friend and adviser for thirty years! You'll trust them over me?!"

"Your Majesty, despite being falsely accused and subsequently buried alive, I still came back to save your son's life," Jim shot back, "Sir, have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?"

Sulu nudged Spock. "When did he learn the Nayahian language?"

Spock looked just as surprised as Sulu was. "I do not know."

"Father, Captain Kirk did save my life, despite the danger to his own. I do not believe that Captain Kirk would accuse Prime Minister Iason of such a dire crime," Nikias reasoned. "I believe in Captain Kirk."

King Acacius and Queen Elpis looked at each other and had a seemingly telepathic conversation in the heads before King Acacius turned back to Jim, Nikias, and Iason. "Iason, you are under arrest by the laws of Nayahian. Guards, take him away until we decided what his penance is."

Spock easily relinquished his hold on Iason to the Nayahians; Sulu also passed Myron to them as well.

As soon as they were gone (they didn't go quietly – both yelled and struggled the entire time), King Acacius approached Jim.

"Captain Kirk, I thank you for your services to my kingdom. You can be sure that our trades will go well. We will continue to remain on good terms with the Federation," he said.

Jim beamed. "Thank you so much for that, sir. I do believe that my superiors will be glad to hear that."

"And for saving my son, I would like to knight you for your duties to Nayah."

"I appreciate it, your Highness, but it is not necessary."

"No, I insist."

Jim just grinned, "Well then, I humbly accept this high honor."

Sulu sighed behind him. "How the hell does this happen to Kirk? We are never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

Spock felt a headache growing behind his eyes. "No, we will not. I really should not have left my bed this morning."

The two watched Jim, who was completely covered in dirt and grime, laugh and joke with the royal family. Just a half hour ago, Jim was buried six-feet under, and now, he was about to be knighted by the ones who had tried to kill him off earlier.

Only an ingenious idiot like Jim could pull this off.

Seriously, they should not be surprised anymore.

Spock smiled a little as he watched Jim animatedly talk with Nikias. There was a huge difference from the Jim before them right now and the one that felt entrapped onboard. And it made Spock feel illogically happy to have been a part of lifting up his friend's spirit.

Perhaps Spock had it all wrong.

It truly was a good day to have gotten out of bed.

Chapter Text

 XIII

Truth or Dare

It started with a dare. It was just a normal day on the Bridge. For once, there were no missions and no one was trying to kill or maim them. The Enterprise was just drifting lazily in space while they waited for Pike's instructions, and Jim was getting bored out of his freaking mind.

He started to spin around on his chair, sighing. As much as he wanted to bother his crew for entertainment, he wasn't quite sure that they would allow it. There was a set quota to how much shenanigans Jim could get into before he was punished like a three-year-old child, and Jim was pretty sure that he had already reached it. Like yesterday.

Sighing again, Jim rotated in his seat until Spock finally turned to him. "Captain, would you like to go down to Engineering to aid Mr. Scott?" asked Spock, a tinge of exasperation in his words.

"Bones banned me from Engineering, remember?" sighed Jim. "And Scotty's terrified of Bones, so he won't let me near him anymore. I have just one teensy accident and I'm forbidden."

"Your 'teensy' accident landed you in Sickbay for two days, Kirk," retorted Uhura. "I still don't understand how you managed to blow up a shuttle doing repairs."

"For the last time, it wasn't my fault! Scotty was experimenting!"

Sulu chuckled. "Well, if you're so bored, then why don't we play a little game of truth or dare?"

"Really? That's a really boring game."

"Only because there's nothing that you won't dare to do," smiled Uhura.

"I can't deny that," grinned Jim.

"Then how about we change it up a bit?" offered Sulu. "We can ask any question that we want and you have to answer them, Kirk. Truthfully."

Jim thought about it. He was fairly certain that his crew wasn't going to ask him anything relating to the dark parts of his past, but it was just in his nature to be cautious when it came to the truth. Lying had always protected him; the truth always ended badly.

As he glanced at the expectant and slightly excited expressions around him, Jim could only smile, his body relaxing minutely. "Fire away."

"How many girls did you really sleep with in the Academy?" Sulu asked, grinning.

"A lot. Next?"

"Keptin, you hawe to be truthful!" protested Chekov.

"I am! I don't have an exact number. I don't even know if I remember half of those nights." Jim paused. "You know, I'm still pretty amazed that I didn't get kicked out of the Academy with all the shit I pulled."

"As am I," muttered Spock.

"I totally heard that, Spock!"

Spock quickly switched gears. "Other than your role in building the Enterprise, what else have you achieved academically?"

Jim winced. "Ah. Can I not answer that?"

"You promised, Keptin!

"This never leaves this Bridge, do you understand? And no one tell Bones! I have a reputation to uphold."

"Just answer the damn question, Kirk!" Uhura said, her tone light and amused.

"There may be a few published papers here and there under a pseudonym of Tiberius Kirkland. There's a couple in mathematical theory, one in the exploring the prospects for detecting gravitational waves from stellar-mass compact objects spiraling into intermediate-mass black holes with ground-based observatories, and a few others here and there. Uh. There's also one a few of Surak's philosophies."

"You serious? You did a paper on Vulcan history?" gaped Uhura. Even she hadn't done that yet. She was going to do a dissertation in the same area, but the Nero fiasco happened and she found herself being placed on the Enterprise before she had the chance to.

"Yeah. It took me forever. Pre-reform Vulcan language is utterly confusing."

"Seriously, how many languages do you actually know?!" she demanded.

At that, Jim just smirked at her. "Probably more than you."

Sulu hissed, "Oh, someone call McCoy. Kirk is going to get his ass handed to him."

Chekov shook his head vigorously. "No no. Ze Keptin isn't called a genius for nothing!"

Uhura stood, placing her hands on her hips. "I don't believe you, Kirk. You know what? I'm changing this game up. I have a dare for you."

Jim leaned forward, excitement sparkling in his bright blue eyes. "Interesting. What are the parameters of this dare?"

"I dare you to find a language that I'm not fluent in. But! You have to be fluent in it as well."

"So, a battle of languages? You're on. What are the stakes?"

"You're such a degenerate gambler. This isn't a bet, Kirk. It's just a dare."

"Why not up the ante? You scared?"

Uhura rolled her eyes. "You remember the last time you bet against me, Kirk? You lost like a hundred credits. No, this is just a simple dare. Bragging rights to whoever wins."

"Nope, not good enough for me. If I win, I get to call you 'Nyota'. Deal?"

Uhura laughed. "You're still trying for that?"

"Always."

"Fine, but if I win, I get to call you Tiberius or any variant of it."

"What?" Jim made a face. "That's awful!"

"She's going to call you 'Ty Ty'," snickered Sulu.

"You shut your mouth," Jim shot back, horrified. "Don't give her any ideas!"

"Sounds like you're sure that you're going to lose," Uhura injected smoothly.

"Of course not." The smugness was back on Jim's face. He glanced at Chekov and winked at him. "This is going to be fun, isn't it?" he said in Russian.

"Nope," smiled Uhura, as she turned back to her console. "I understand and speak all Russian dialects."

Jim switched languages. "How about this one?"

"Klingon? Please. Bring something new to the table."

"What are you working on, Uhura?" Jim almost bit his tongue speaking in Tamarian.

"Nothing that you should concern yourself with, Captain," Uhura shot back in the same tongue.

Jim was about to speak something new when he heard the turbolift open behind him. He turned around to see McCoy standing there with a grouchy look on his face.

"Bones!" Jim exclaimed happily.

McCoy frowned. "What's got you so happy?"

"I've been given a dare."

"That does not surprise me."

"What are you doing up here anyway, Bones? Did you get bored too?"

McCoy rolled his eyes, an action that the entire crew of the Enterprise seemed to have mastered just for Jim. "I'm not you, Jim. I'm here to talk to the hobgoblin. But Scotty did say that he needed to see you down in Engineering. He said that there's something off in a section of Engineering. Not exactly sure what he said though."

Instantly, Jim was in his 'Captain' mode. "Why didn't he comm me directly?" frowned Jim, standing.

Bones shrugged. "I passed him on my way up. His hands are full with wires and whatnot." He turned to glance at Uhura. "Nyota, Chapel needs your help with translating a script."

Jim grinned. "Why don't you join me, Uhura? We're going in the same direction anyway and we can continue this little thing we have going on."

Uhura completely disregarded the double innuendo and swept her hair back as she walked past Jim, her stance haughty. But Jim caught the small smile on her face and knew that she was enjoying their little game as much as he was.

He had to jog the last few steps to the turbolift to catch up to her.

"See you in a bit, guys. Don't scratch my girl while I'm gone, Spock. You have the conn." Jim flashed them all a winning smile as the turbolift's doors closed.

As soon as Jim and Uhura were gone, the rest of the crew returned to their duties and the chatter went back down to a low murmur.

None of them noticed the discrepancy among the stars before them, but the following explosions certainly caught their attention.

By then, it was far too late.

Jim leaned casually against the wall of the turbolift, glancing at Uhura who was standing a good foot away from him. She was looking directly straight ahead, purposefully ignoring him. On the outside, it always seemed as though she was thoroughly annoyed at Jim and wanted nothing to do with him. She treated him with eye rolls and snapped back with her sharp tongue. He retorted and bantered back; his words were always full of innuendos and were crude as they were crass.

By all accounts, their relationship was icy and prickly, but there was a deeper understanding between them that most – other than their close friends – could not comprehend.

Long ago, back in the Academy, Uhura truly had disliked Kirk, thinking him as a rude womanizer who thought with his genitals. He was always a whirlwind of everything that was wrong with men. His smiles and bright blue eyes enthralled people; he knew it and used it to his advantage. She had always seen him sleeping through classes, if he had even bothered to show up, and appeared to exams at least five minutes late. Genius was never something that she would have equated with him and she never respected him, thinking that he was just skirting on by with his father's reputation.

And then she was thrown into the chaotic mess that was Nero. She saw the brilliance that he always hid. She saw his deep compassion and desire to protect everything with his own hands, even if it cost him his life. The reputation that Kirk had spent so much effort forming and maintaining was nothing like who he truly was. There was so much depth, pain, and genius within this one man that Uhura found herself being endlessly surprised. More importantly, she found herself forming a tight bond with him – one that went beyond friendship. They weren't lovers and they never would be – there were no such feelings between them and Jim would never hurt either Spock or her by actually putting any moves on her. They were like bickering siblings that would go to the ends of the earth for the other.

Sometimes, Uhura wondered if Kirk purposefully needled her, looking for their fights. She had a feeling that it reminded him of a time lost with his own biological brother, but she didn't dare to ask. He had only ever mentioned Sam once or twice in the years that they had known each other, and each time, there was a faraway look in his pained blue eyes that made her own heart ache for him.

So she continued to fight with him, cutting through his masks with her sarcasm and wit. In turn, she could see him drop his numerous guards to fully enjoy their banter. And that was worth all the exasperation and disbelief that she had ever gotten from the man.

"You realize I'm going to win this bet, Uhura," grinned Jim, speaking in Cardassian.

She gave him her best smile. "I'd like to see you try," she replied in the same tongue.

Jim switched to Jaradan. "I'm surprised that Spock didn't argue against this."

"I'm sure he is as curious as the rest of the crew."

Swedish. "Got to keep all of you guessing."

"Why? Is there a point to it all?"

Ferengi. "It's fun," Jim shrugged.

Uhura still could not understand why Jim hid his intelligence and she probably never would. She suspected that no one ever would – not after all that he had gone through.

"You're ridiculous," she said, her tone light and joking.

Jim smiled at her. "You love me for it."

"Out of languages already? You can do better than that, Kirk."

"I'm just getting started." Jim's eyes glittered with unspoken anticipation.

Uhura felt a small rush of satisfaction to be considered such an exciting challenge to Kirk, but she quickly quelled it, not wanting it to show in her body language that she knew he would be able to read. There was no need to inflate his ego any further, was there?

"Where did you even learn all these languages anyway?" she asked curiously.

"A few from traveling around and…"

Jim never got to finish his sentence.

A sudden explosion rocked both of them off their feet, sending them tumbling down to the ground. The lights in the turbolift flickered briefly before shutting off completely as it came to a grinding halt.

Another blast went off close to them, and like limp dolls being tossed around in a rough play, they were thrown painfully and heavily against the wall.

That last explosion was particularly damaging. Sounds of the pieces of the turbolift breaking and cracking echoed ominously in their ears.

Jim pushed himself onto his elbows, trying to gather his bearings. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Some fucking bastard had hurt his beautiful girl. Whoever they were, they were so going to pay, but anger could only do so much when his body was screaming out in pain.

Worry filled him as he quickly checked on Uhura. She was lying on her back, dazed. Her delicate body was frozen, as if she was afraid to even move a finger, and her right leg was bent wrong. There was no doubt in Jim's mind that it was broken, but it wasn't as horrible as it could be. At least she was still slightly coherent, though she was probably in shock.

The turbolift shuddered again and plummeted down a few decks, making Jim and Uhura hold on for their dear lives. It slammed to a stop, unhinging whatever had come loose in the explosion.

Jim's eyes widened as he saw a thin metal pole come apart from its foundation and crash down towards Uhura.

There was no time to think; his body reacted before his brain could even catch up to it.

Using all the strength he had, he lunged himself towards her. Bodily, he shoved her as hard as he could. He heard a loud thud as her head crashed against the wall, but before the concern could even settle in, his entire world was filled with such agony that his vision actually whited out. It ripped an ear-splitting scream from him, which only caused him more pain, like lightning striking his tortured body.

He tried desperately to regulate his breathing – to minimize the damage, but as he shakily reached towards his lower abdomen near his right side, he knew that nothing he did would change the outcome. For the first time in a while, he couldn't use his 'mind over matter' trick. The damage was too severe.

His searching hand came into contact with a solid, metal pole about an inch in diameter that had penetrated him from his back and was protruding a few inches from his stomach.

Blood dripped slowly from between his fingers.

He was in deep, deep trouble. He was definitely going to get scolded by Bones.

That is, if they managed to get out in time.

He didn't want to move, but through this whole time, Uhura had barely even flinched. Through the ordeal, she had lost consciousness and Jim was afraid that she wasn't breathing and he had pushed her a little bit too hard.

Agonizingly, he crawled forward, almost biting through his lip as every movement sent shocks of burning, ripping pain through him. By the time he pulled himself forward the few inches to the left of Uhura, he was on the verge of blacking out. Sweat covered his entire brow and he could barely catch his breath. There was almost no strength left in his body, but he still reached forward with a bloody hand to check her pulse. It was steady and strong.

He let the relief wash over him as he critiqued her for any injuries. There was a steady stream of blood from a scratch on her left forehead, but it looked worse than it actually was. Head wounds always bled more – Jim would know. He peeled back her eyelid with a trembling hand and studied her pupils. It reacted to the very dim lighting around them, albeit slowly, which meant that she had a slight concussion. Nothing too serious, but enough to knock her out.

Satisfied, he shifted, pushing himself upwards to a seated position. A groan was inadvertently released from his lips as he breathed through the pain. By raising his body, he could slow the bleeding – hopefully enough so that his crew could come save them.

But first…

Numbly and slowly, he pulled his communicator out and pressed it.

There was a slight crackle before he heard the other line connect.

"Spock."

A rush of relief ran through Jim along with a determination and cheekiness that he was ever so famous for. "Didn't I tell you to not scratch my girl while I was gone? What the hell happened?!"

But Jim knew that he wasn't going to like what he was going to hear even before the answer.

Goddamn it.

If even boring days ended up like this, Jim was never going to be let out of his room again.

As soon as the turbolift closed, McCoy turned back to Spock, rolling his eyes. "You better find him a mission soon or we're going to have a repeat of what happened last week in Engineering," he said.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you came to speak to me about?"

"He's getting antsy, hobgoblin, which means that he's going to do something stupid soon."

"What would you like me to do about it? We cannot simply park at the nearest planet and beam down for exploration."

"Yeah, I thought we made it a rule that Kirk's not allowed to beam off ship anymore?" Sulu added.

"How about ve hawe another math competition?" suggested Chekov.

McCoy shook his head. "And have him bitch about us destroying his reputation for another two weeks? No thanks."

"Then, what do you suggest, Doctor?"

"I've already used up my resources. You guys are up next."

The explosion took them all by surprise, but shaking the ground beneath them and making them wobble for a brief second. A loud screeching reached them. None of them could place it or where the sound originated from.

"What the hell was that?" snapped McCoy.

"It seemed like it was a localized internal explosion. Mr. Sulu, determine whether it was one born from one of Mr. Scott's experiments or an external threat," Spock barked out. "And locate our Captain, please."

Sulu was already working before Spock even spoke.

"Mr. Chekov, find out the extent of damage."

"Yes, sir!"

There was a small beeping noise and Spock automatically picked up his comm without even looking at it. "Spock," he spoke into it.

Jim's breathless voice came filtering through. "Didn't I tell you to not scratch my girl while I was gone? What the hell happened?!"

"The bomb was placed in a back section of Engineering, close to the turbolift. Definitely an external threat," Sulu answered dutifully. "But it looks like damage is minimal."

"But our main veapons are momentarily offline," Chekov said.

"Turbolift is also offline," Jim added, lightheartedly.

"How did you know, Keptin?"

There was no answer to that. McCoy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're stuck in the goddamn turbolift, aren't you, Jim?"

"Maybe?"

Spock spoke into the communicator. "Are you and Nyota safe?"

"Uhura was knocked out, but from what I can see, she's fine. How are our shields faring?"

No one noticed Jim purposefully deflecting from his own condition. The attack was at the forefront of everyone's mind.

"The shields are weakened, but holding," Sulu reported. And then panic seeped into his tone. "Wait! Incoming photon attack! Brace yourselves!"

The Enterprise rocked heavily as she took a direct hit.

Jim's strangled cry was hidden under the sudden sound of Klaxons blaring overhead, sending them into a world of red lights.

The entire turbolift had shifted a few feet down again, tilting dangerously and jarring Jim against the wall. His hands scrambled to brace himself, but as he saw Uhura sliding away from him, he lunged for her, biting back the scream as his entire world minimized to his pain and his need to protect Uhura.

They both tumbled backwards, slamming against the opposite wall. Jim forgot how to breathe when the pole shifted within him; he hunched over, groaning loudly as he rode out the waves of fire. As he did, he glanced leftwards at Uhura down beside him. She was uninjured, but still unconscious.

With such effort, Jim pushed himself back upwards, one hand curled around Uhura's outstretched wrist, as if to reassure himself of her presence, and the other clinging onto his communicator like it was his last lifeline.

His vision was flickering, his breathing was shallow, and it pained him to even lift a finger, but he was getting number and number as time went on by. Logically, Jim knew that it was a bad sign that he was slowly losing feeling, but his girl was still in danger, and if he ever wanted any medical aid, he would have to take care of the situation upstairs first.

Clumsy fingers dialed for Spock, but there was no answer. Jim had to believe that it was just because Spock was preoccupied with dealing with the threat instead of being physically incapable of answering, which meant Scotty, Chekov, and Sulu would all be too busy to pick up their communicators as well.

He had only one other person he could call then. He just hoped that Bones would answer.

The photon attack had barely affect Spock and he quickly moved around to sit down in Jim's chair, immediately taking command. "Mr. Sulu, damage report!" Spock said loudly.

"Shields are holding steady, but we're still sitting ducks without anything to strike back with."

"Who is even attacking us?! I don't see anyone!" snapped McCoy. His brown eyes scanned the skies before them, only to stop when his communicator started ringing. "McCoy," he growled into the device.

"Bones…" came Jim's weak, breathy voice.

"Jim? Are you alright?"

Jim didn't get a chance to reply.

At that moment, Chekov swung around, something akin to worry in his eyes. "Commander, someone is hailing us."

"On screen," Spock commanded.

Seconds later, a distorted black-and-white figure appeared before them. "Greetings, Enterprise. This is the pirate ship Macbeth. As our vocation implies, we want your goods."

"Federation does not negotiate with terrorists."

"We aren't exactly terrorists, Mr. Spock."

"Why target the Enterprise? Surely, you must know that you cannot escape from threatening and attacking the Starfleet flagship."

"We happened to have someone onboard. It made things a little easier."

"We have superior weapons than you."

"That are currently offline," the pirate retorted, "Besides, how can you attack us if you can't even see us? We stole a cloaking device off a Klingon ship awhile back. It has been extremely useful, as you can imagine. Now, we will give you an hour to meet our demands. Otherwise, we'll blow you out of the sky. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

"And what are your demands?"

"First, we'd like your stores of lithium dioxide. All of it, just so we can make sure that you don't come after us when we leave. Oh, and our Captain has an issue with yours, so send Kirk over as well. We'll treat him well."

Snickers could be heard in the background, and it only made the Enterprise's crew angrier.

"We'd also like all your photon torpedo tubes. That's it for now. We know how to contact you if we come up with something new. Toodaloo!"

They hung up as abruptly as they called.

"Those guys are fucking annoying bastards," Jim's voice crackled over on McCoy's communicator.

He had been surprisingly quiet for the entire conversation. Going by how he had called in to someone else, he had been disconnected somehow.

"You're telling me," snorted McCoy. "What's the plan, Jim?"

Bones could barely hear it, but Jim's breathing was harsh and controlled, like he was desperately trying to block something out. Bones felt a pit start to grow in his stomach.

"First of all, someone call Scotty. Get the weapons back online. We'll need them."

"What's the point if they're cloaked?" asked Sulu as Spock called Scotty and relayed Jim's command to him.

"Look for what's not there." There was a tiredness and weakness to Jim's words, but the crew attributed to the static of the communicator.

Spock almost frowned. "I do not understand you, Captain," he said just as McCoy growled, "Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not an illusionist. Can't make something appear if it's not there!"

Jim made a frustrated noise before he spoke again. "Chekov, you know what I'm talking about, right? We've discussed this before."

Sure enough, as Spock glanced up to look at the teenager, the already scouring Navigator had sat up and was frantically pointing at something in the distance. "Zhere! Zhere!"

"Explain, Mr. Chekov," Spock demanded.

"Cloaking shields the ships from sight, right?" Jim started, explaining before Chekov had the chance to speak. "But it's not perfect. There's going to be slight distortion between the ship and its background."

"See zhere?!" exclaimed Chekov, "Ze stars do not align vith each other. You can see ze shape of ze ship!"

"Oh! I see it!" Sulu said at the same time that Spock noticed what Chekov was saying.

"You guys find it?" asked Jim.

"Yes, Captain," replied Spock.

"Scotty have things fixed? He should have been working on them from the start since he was probably in the vicinity."

"One moment, Jim." Spock raised his communicator and dialed for Scotty again. "Mr. Scott, are we all set?"

"Ach! Give me a couple o' minutes! I'll 'ave it ready in…" Clanking sounds and angry Gaelic swearing, until finally, "We're all set! She's all good ta go."

"Captain, Mr. Scott says that he's fixed the weapons."

"Great. Hail the pirates and give them the ultimatum that if they don't surrender, we will fire on them."

"What will be the point of that, Captain? I am sure they will have shields that our weapons cannot penetrate."

"Think about it, Spock. If they had the weaponry to shoot us out of the sky, then why haven't they shot at us yet? Why did they attack us internally instead of externally? It's because they know that they have inferior weaponry. They're bluffing, and they're banking on us believing it."

"Upon what basis are you making these assumptions?" Spock didn't sound as if he was rejecting Jim's idea; it seemed more like Spock was simply curious on how Jim came to this conclusion.

"I know a bluff when I see one. Trust me. Give the ultimatum. They'll fold in two minutes, tops."

Sulu turned and looked at Spock. "Can't hurt to try, right? Kirk's a crazy son of a bitch, but he's almost always right."

Spock didn't argue. "Hail the pirate vessel, Mr. Sulu."

"Yes, sir!"

Seconds later, Spock was staring at a fuzzy screen with a humanoid figure before him. "I am Commander Spock of starship Enterprise. I hereby demand your full and complete surrender or we will be forced to decimate you."

"Can you?" sneered the pirate captain. "We are cloaked and we are primed to attack you once more. You can't do anything to us if you can find us."

"Fire one photon at their vessel, Sulu," Jim commanded over the comms, loud enough so that the enemy could hear. "Let's show them that we aren't to be taken lightly."

Sulu smirked and aimed. "Yes, sir!"

A loud explosion could be heard over the screen, followed by immediate panic by the pirate crew.

"What the hell?! You said that the cloaking was foolproof!" shouted someone in the background.

"It is! We shouldn't have been found!"

"Do not underestimate the Enterprise," Spock said coolly. "We are the Starfleet flagship for a reason. Now, our weaponry, despite your efforts, is still online and functional. I estimate that your vessel cannot withstand another attack. If you do not surrender, we will be forced to use our full power to bring you down."

"There will be no mercy," Jim added, his voice so cold and venomous that it sent shivers down everyone's spine. "Leave now and we may let you live."

Perhaps it was Jim's tone or the fact that the pirates were smarter than Jim had gave them credit for, but the screen unexpectedly zipped black almost immediately following the threats and a few minutes later, Chekov couldn't find a single trace of their vessel.

"I zink zey hawe left, sir," he said cautiously.

"Mr. Sulu, Mr. Chekov, get us out of here," Spock commanded.

McCoy frowned. "I really thought they were going to try to fight us. That seemed a bit too easy."

"That is true, but we should be glad for a peaceful resolution."

"You still have to figure out who their inside man is."

"Why does it seem like we keep having people sneak on our ship?" asked Sulu. "How does that happen so many times? It's ridiculous!"

Instantly, McCoy stilled. "Jim always says that there's no such thing as coincidences. You think we have a breach in our security?"

"It certainly seems possible," said Spock. "I will look into it."

"Before you guys do, get someone to fix the goddamn turbolift and get me and Uhura out," Jim said.

All looked sheepish, as if they had forgotten that Jim and Uhura were trapped.

Spock reached over and took the communicator from McCoy. "Understood."

"And uh..." There was a slight pause that never boded well for anyone. "Make sure that Bones is on hand?" Jim finished off weakly.

Alarm rang through them all and Spock's grip on the communicator tightened. "Jim, is everything alright? Are you and Nyota unharmed?" The Vulcan cursed himself for not asking that the first time around. In Jim's mind, 'safe' did not necessarily equate to 'uninjured', and Spock should have caught that.

"I uh...wouldn't say 'unharmed', per se."

McCoy wrenched the communicator away from Spock. "Dammit, Jim! What aren't you telling us?"

"I'm pretty sure that Uhura has a concussion and her right leg is broken. She's out right now, but she's fine."

"Don't even try to deflect, Jim. What about you?"

There was a weary sigh on the other end. "Just get us out. As fast as you can."

"Jim! What aren't you telling us?!"

"Even if I told you, how's that going to help me?" Jim snapped back, but the bite in his words weren't as sharp as they could be. His voice was getting weaker by the second. "Can't exactly help me if I'm stuck in the fucking turbolift, can ya?"

"Is it bad?"

"You don't want to know." Jim took a shuddering breath. "Bones. Just get us out, fast."

There was hidden desperation in his words that made Bones and the rest of the crew feel their faces bleach of all color.

"Alright, you got it. Hang in there, Jimbo, you hear me?"

Jim's chuckled was weak. "Yeah. I gotcha, Bones." He hung up immediately, not leaving any chance for Bones to inquire any further.

McCoy swung around to look for Spock, panic and worry written all over his face.

Spock was already in motion, dialing up Scotty. "Mr. Scott, I need you and all available hands to repair the turbolift. Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura are trapped within it. They are injured." Spock paused. "It is safe to assume that Jim is wounded badly seeing how Nyota only sustained minor injuries."

If Uhura was relatively unhurt, then that only meant that Jim had protected her at the expense of his own health. And if Jim was unwilling to tell them about his injuries? That did not bode well for him at all.

"Understood, Commander." Scotty was uncharacteristically somber and serious. No traces of his usual jolly self could be heard – it showed how dire the situation was.

Jim had just saved the Enterprise and her crew from the pirates.

Now it was their turn to save him.

The all-clear was signaled by the red Klaxons turning off, plunging Jim back into the darkness. He let out a sigh of relief and leaned his head back against the wall as he let the now silent communicator drop to the floor.

Closing his eyes, he felt the adrenaline leave his veins as fast as his blood, sending flashes of red, hot burning pain washing through him. He could barely breathe. With each inhalation, his diaphragm contracted and flattened; each exhalation expanded. Both made his tender and wounded muscles press against and away from the pole.

It was agony on steroids.

A groan echoed in the turbolift, but it didn't come from Jim.

Uhura stirred a little, making soft noises of discomfort as she rose to consciousness.

"Uhura?" murmured Jim, no longer having the strength to do anything but lean limply against the lift. Even his hand was weak around her wrist.

She shifted and slowly sat up, clutching her head and hissing in pain. She let out a little yelp when her broken leg finally registered. Tears sprang to her eyes and she bit her lip, holding back whimpers.

"Breathe through the pain, Uhura. You're going to be alright," Jim said softly.

Uhura turned to look for her friend. "Kirk?" Her eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, but she could still make out Jim's figure inches away from her.

Jim gave her a small, strained smile. "That's my name, don't wear it out."

She rolled her eyes, noting that Jim's was glazed over with pain. "What happened?"

"Pirates, but it's been handled. Don't worry." His voice hitched at the end and he didn't quite manage to conceal his hiss.

"Kirk?" she questioned again, leaning forward to get a better look at Jim.

Jim was slightly tilted away from her, his right shoulder pressed against the wall heavily. He was slumped over, hunching protectively over his right stomach. His face was pale; sweat was drenching his clothes and it made his hair cling to his forehead. Uhura could hear his stuttering and barely controlled breathing.

"Are you alright?"

There was a pause before Jim answered. Uhura wasn't sure if it was because he had to gather himself first or if he was trying to figure out a way to deflect like usual. "Define 'alright'."

"Damn it, Kirk. You're hurt, aren't you?"

"You are too, Uhura. That leg alright?"

"It's painful, but it's not the worst I've had. I can handle it."

"Same here."

"What…?" She broke off the second she saw the metal pole jutting out from Jim's stomach. She gasped, unable to hold it back. "Oh my God…Kirk!"

"Shh…" Jim whispered. "Nothing we can do until we get out."

She could see blood slowly pooling around him and instantly, her nurturing instincts kicked in. "We still have to get that bleeding under control. Do you still have that knife in your boot?"

Jim nodded weakly, swallowing harshly.

She inched forward, crying out as it jostled her leg. It took her a couple of seconds before she could work through the pain enough to function. She reached for Jim's right leg and pulled out his boot knife.

She raised the blade to cut through the bottom hem of her uniform dress, but Jim spoke up, stopping her.

"Use…" He swallowed hard. "Use my shirt."

"It'll hurt you if I do. It's easier to just use my clothes."

"I might be dying here, and you want to flash those long legs of yours in my face? Isn't this pole torture enough?" Jim joked.

"I thought you'd jump at any chance to check me out?" Uhura returned.

"Not if I can't move and touch."

Normally, Uhura would have slapped him playfully for that response, but she settled for a disgusted snort instead. "You lecher. Just this one time, I'll allow it."

She raised the knife to bring down on her clothes, but Jim's clammy hand grasped hers.

"I can handle the pain. You don't know who's going to come save us first. Can't…" Jim broke off to gather his breath. "Can't have you being all indecent and distracting for those who's supposed to save my life."

Finally, Uhura understood what Jim was trying to prevent. It was true that her dress was already fairly short. She would need a lot of fabric to go around the pole; she may end up not having enough to cover herself with.

Even while he was so injured, Jim was trying to protect something as inane as her virtue. It just blew her mind.

"Don't be stupid, Kirk," was all she could say, and she proceeded to cut through her red uniform.

By the time she finished ripping strips of fabric off, the dress was barely long enough to cover her upper thighs. She felt slightly exposed, but it was worth it if it prevented Jim from needless pain. There was already going to be so much in his imminent future.

"This is going to hurt," she warned.

Jim nodded, giving her permission, and she moved forward. Using the training that McCoy had taught her regarding binding injuries to prevent the most blood loss, Uhura slowly wrapped the cloth like a tight bandage around the rod. Jim couldn't help his body's natural response to become taut and tense with the pain, nor could he bite back the moans.

When Uhura finally tied off the last knot, Jim was already on the verge of passing out. There was absolutely nothing left in him and all he wanted to do was succumb to the darkness. He was about to slide down like a limp rag doll, but suddenly, Uhura was scooting up next to him.

She was the support that Jim needed to stay upright, otherwise, he was going to hurt himself further. Gently, Uhura started to run her fingers through his hair in the manner that she knew he loved – it was something that she had always seen McCoy do for Jim whenever their blonde friend was injured or sick.

Uhura could feel Jim trembling beside her and her heart ached because she couldn't do any more to help him ease the pain. Without really thinking about it, Uhura started singing softly in her native tongue:

"Malaika, nakupenda Malaika,

Malaika, nakupenda Malaika,

Nami nifanyeje, kijana mwenzio,

Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

Ningekuoa Malaika,

Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

Ningekuoa Malaika ."

Beneath her fingers, she could feel Jim fading away and she only held him tighter, as if it was going to be enough to keep him with her.

"Hmm…" he murmured, barely clinging on to the edge of his consciousness. "'s nice…What…what language…is that?"

Uhura's lips tugged upwards slightly. "You lost our dare, Kirk."

There was no response. She looked down and saw Kirk fast asleep on her shoulder. The lines of pain had loosened somewhat, making him seem younger, and all she wanted to do was comfort him like a younger brother. Tightening her grip on him, she resumed singing:

"Kidege, hukuwaza kidege,

Nami nifanyeje, kijana mwenzio,

Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

Ningekuoa Malaika,

Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

Ningekuoa, Malaika."

"Pesa zasumbua roho yangu,

Pesa zasumbua roho yangu,

Nami nifanyeje, kijana mwenzio,

Ningekuoa Malaika,

Nashndwa na mali sina, we,

Ningekuoa Malaika."

She wasn't sure how long she kept singing. By the time Scotty and his men managed to dig through all the collapsed debris and get the turbolift working again, Uhura's voice was already hoarse and all she knew was that Jim was still breathing when Scotty and a couple of others gently lifted him out.

Jim was handed off to Nurse Chapel and several other Medical officers. Uhura didn't see McCoy – he was probably still stuck on the Bridge and had to wait for the turbolift to work again – but she had no doubt that he was going to race to Jim's side the second he was able to.

That thought alone was enough for Uhura to know that Jim was going to be in good hands.

So there was only one thing left to do.

She let go.

McCoy rubbed a tired hand over his scruffy face before checking on Jim's vitals again. His pulse and heartbeat were steady; the insufferable man was well on his way to recovery. It was taking Jim a while to wake up though, probably because of all the blood that Jim had lost. A quart more and nothing McCoy did could have saved Jim.

When Scotty and his men found Jim and Uhura, Uhura's beautiful voice had become raspy and the two of them were lying in a small pool of Jim's blood. The pole should have acted as a plug, preventing rapid blood loss that would have meant an imminent death, but somewhere in the chaos, it got dislodged from Jim's back and gradually, Jim started bleeding out.

From what Scotty said, the two probably ping-ponged from wall to wall as the turbolift fell and was rocked by all the explosions – the impact themselves weren't as harmful as the repeated action of being thrown back and forth.

McCoy had no doubt that Jim – the man whose reaction time was faster than a Vulcan's – had gotten so severely injured by protecting Uhura, not that he would ever tell her. All she could remember was that she was talking to Jim one second, and the next, it was a blurry haze filled with pain. She never saw when or how Jim got hurt; she only knew when Jim couldn't hold himself up anymore.

Her injuries weren't too bad. McCoy had her leg set in minutes and the bone regenerator had it fixed in an hour, but he still kept her overnight for observation because of her concussion. She was out of Sickbay by the next day, completely cleared for duty.

Jim, on the other hand, had to go through a surgery, several blood donations, and a couple of hours under the dermal regenerator. It took a total of two days.

Overall, Jim definitely had worse injuries, but it still didn't ease the worry that had settled in McCoy's gut. That feeling wouldn't disappear until he could see Jim up and about, laughing and being brilliant and annoying all at once.

"How's he doing?" Uhura asked quietly, seemingly out of nowhere.

Leonard almost jumped, but he recovered quickly. "He's going to be fine. As soon as he wakes up and I check him over one last time, he should be able to return to duty."

She shifted uneasily, her feet shuffling a bit. "I've been thinking about what happened in the turbolift quite a bit. There're still a few gaps and I was wondering if you could help me fill them in."

"Why not ask the hobgoblin?"

"Spock's busy helping Scotty with the repairs, and honestly, I just wanted to come down here and check on Kirk too. Don't tell him I said that."

McCoy snorted. "Of course not. I know the act you put up around each other. It's more amusing than anything to watch. I ain't gonna change that."

"So, is it true that Kirk talked Spock into tricking the pirates to leave?"

"Yeah, if you'd believe it. Don't even know how he made all those connections that funny little head of his."

"And he did it while a pole was sticking through him? He didn't call the Bridge for help, did he?"

"The first words out of that damn rascal's mouth were 'what the hell happened?'. He was more worried about the Enterprise than his own health."

"You'd think he'd learn by now that we are not fine with that."

"I can kind of see where his train of thought led though. Scotty had to fix the weapons and Spock had to focus on the immediate threat. Jim would never have mentioned his injuries if there were other dangers floating around. We couldn't exactly get to him until the threat was cleared either."

McCoy glanced at Uhura with an appreciative look. "Good job with the bandages, by the way. You probably saved his life."

She fell silent for a couple of seconds. "He saved mine."

"What do you mean?"

"The pole. You know that he could've easily dodged it, even if he was concussed. We've seen him do things like that before. And yet, here he is, lying in Sickbay with another scar. He protected me, didn't he? That's why he got hurt."

There was so much guilt in her face and words that it made McCoy squirm uneasily.

"First of all, he won't have a scar. I'm a much better doctor than that, thank you very much. Second, you were concussed. Do you really think Jim would've let you get hurt when you couldn't even move? Besides, his brain was probably a bit rattled when the whole fiasco happened. The idiot didn't think things through like he usually does and just acted. It's his own idiocy that got him hurt."

"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" murmured Jim.

Instantly, the two snapped around to look at Jim who was staring blearily at them. His blue eyes were still a bit unfocused, but they were clearing up with each passing second.

"You're an idiot, end of story," returned McCoy, crossing his arms in a gruff manner, but his relief was evident on his expressions.

"That's nothing new. Ow, ow, ow…" he muttered as he sat up, rubbing his newly healed abdomen.

"Take it easy. It'll be sore for a couple of days, but you should be fine."

"How's the ship? Scotty have her fixed?"

"Yeah. The hobgoblin said that repairs should be finished by the end of the day."

"And the pirates?"

"Gone. Your face scared them off."

"That's a bit off-putting. You're just jealous that I'm more ruggedly handsome than you, Bones," Jim teased.

McCoy chuckled and ruffled Jim's hair. "Glad to see you're feeling better. I gotta go check up on some other patients, but I'll back soon with some food."

Jim grimaced, but before he even had the chance to whine about eating the crap healthy food that Bones always brought him while he was in the SickBay, he was silenced by a glare.

"No complaints, you hear? Otherwise, I'll hypospray your ass to unconsciousness and feed you through tubes."

"Ouch," winced Uhura as McCoy strutted off, "That sounds a bit harsh."

"He'll actually do it too," Jim said, already throwing back the covers and testing his feet on the ground. "Which is why I'm not sticking around for that to happen again." He smiled up at Uhura. "Can you grab my clothes?"

"You really shouldn't be getting out of bed, Kirk," she said, hesitating.

"If you don't, I'm just going to walk out of here in this flimsy gown and tell everyone that you're the one who stripped me down."

Uhura rolled her eyes and moved to the closet, taking out Jim's clothes and handing them to him. "Like people will actually believe you."

Jim just gave her an amused glitter in his bright, blue eyes. "Asante, rafiki yangu," (Thank you, my friend) and proceeded to throw on his uniform in record time.

Uhura's jaw dropped open. "No, there's no way! You said that you didn't recognize it in the turbolift!"

Jim chuckled and strode out of the SickBay with Uhura tight on his heels. "I was bleeding out. Forgive me if my mind wasn't exactly all that clear. I didn't recognize the language at the time."

"Wait, so you know Swahili?"

They rounded a corner. "Not exactly? I mean, I'm not completely fluent in it, but I know enough to get by."

"If you weren't coherent, how did you even figure out that it was Swahili in the end?"

"I could hear you singing in my mind even when I was out. I'm not exactly how far gone I was, but that was the only thing I could still hear. What was it, by the way?"

"What, the song?"

"Yeah? It was…" Jim fought for the right word. He didn't know how he could describe how safe he felt, enveloped in her arms and words. It wasn't something he was familiar with. "Warm."

Uhura smiled gently. "It's a lullaby that my grandmother used to sing to me every time I was upset or hurt."

"It was lovely, Uhura. Thank you for that."

"And thank you for saving me."

The mood instantly switched with Jim's amused snort. "I did no such thing. But you do realize that that means our dare is still on, right?"

"You're a glutton for trouble, you know that?"

"Of course I am, but that's what makes life interesting, don't you think?"Jim responded. His blue eyes sparkled brightly as he gave her a simple greeting, slipping into a different language easily. "How are you doing today, Uhura?"

Uhura's eyes narrowed and came to a stop right outside of the mess hall. "You made that up. That's not a real language."

"I know I'm a genius and that I would totally do something like making up an entire language on the spot, but for once, I'm not bullshitting you. It's a legitimate language," smirked Jim.

"I don't believe you."

Jim grinned as he saw Sulu and Chekov exit the mess. They waved, clearly pleased to see their friend well enough to wander around and bicker with Uhura.

"Fine then, I'll prove it." He reached out and snagged Sulu, almost jerking him out of stride to bring him into their conversation. "How are you doing today, Sulu?" Jim asked, purposefully using the same exact phrase that he said to Uhura so she would recognize it.

A light lit up in Sulu's originally puzzled face and excitement settled in. Instantly, he chattered back, his tongue rolling over the syllables like it was his first language. "I am doing well, my friend. And how are you?"

Jim's smile grew wider. "I am doing splendidly." Then he switched to Standard, smirking at Uhura. "I'm just proving a point to Uhura. See? Legitimate language. Even Sulu speaks it!"

Uhura threw up her hands in the air, exasperated and frustrated. "Unbelievable. No. I'm not dealing with this. You're pulling my leg. Whatever this is that you have going on with Sulu? I'm going to find out. Just you wait!"

In a huff, Uhura stormed off, her black ponytail swaying behind her vigorously with her angry steps.

Jim just doubled over with laughter, leaning on a confused and slightly worried Sulu.

"Uh...Kirk, what just happened? Is she going to kill us in our sleep?" Sulu asked nervously.

"That's definitely possible," chuckled Jim. "She's just sore that I won the dare."

There was a pause. Jim could almost hear all the dots connecting in Sulu's mind.

Sulu raised an eyebrow at Jim as he crossed his arms. "What are you going to do when she finds out that you stumped her with Elvish from Lord of the Rings? It's not even a real language!"

"Hey! I never said that it was a 'real' language, just that it was a 'legitimate' one. I didn't technically lie."

"She's going to castrate you."

Jim's bright laughter echoed down the hallway. The ingenious idiot knew better than to taunt Uhura (she could be terrifying if she wanted to be), but Jim couldn't help himself. It wasn't every day that he managed to render the linguist speechless, and he was going to savor every last moment.

He grinned broadly at Sulu. "Totally worth it."

Chapter Text

 XIV

Hell Hath no Fury

For once, the trouble didn't follow Jim, nor was he responsible for any bit of it. In fact, the whole entire fiasco wouldn't even have happened if it wasn't for Bones' ex-wife, Jocelyn.

It all started with a simple call from Jocelyn to McCoy, telling – not asking – the doctor to take Joanna off her hands for a couple of days. Her current husband, Clay Treadway, and she were going on a spontaneous business trip and it was too short notice for Jocelyn to find anyone to take care of her daughter.

Bones, of course, couldn't refuse, and brought it up to Jim despite knowing that the Enterprise had no business in Georgia. He had fully expected Jim to apologize sincerely and tell him that it couldn't be done, that they had their duties as commanding officers of Starfleet, but without another word, Jim had stalked off halfway through their conversation, leaving behind a very confused Bones.

An hour or two later, Jim had sauntered back up to the Bridge with a smug look of satisfaction on his face and a slightly dirty uniform. He had proceeded to report to Starfleet that there was a sudden and unexplainable malfunction in the Engineering department and that they would have to dock at Earth. (Later, the Command crew would discover that Jim had collaborated with Scotty to screw something up in Engineering, forcing the Enterprise to need to land soon, and they had fun with it, which never meant anything good.)

Jim had called various people, pulling in all sorts of favors until finally, it was set that the Enterprise would stay at the Georgia branch for a couple days before they set off for their next mission. They were immensely lucky that they were between missions; otherwise, nothing Jim did or pulled could have let them land in Georgia.

When they did dock, Jim was still stuck on Bridge, frowning over his PADD because he had to work through a vast amount of complicated documents regarding a treaty for Komack – the price that Jim had to pay in order to get what he wanted.

Of course, Bones didn't know everything that Jim had done to get this temporary leave, but he knew enough to feel extremely touched and thankful to him. It was just like Jim to go above and beyond what was called of him for people that he cared about.

But it was because he was suddenly swamped with so much work that Jim wasn't able to personally welcome his unofficial goddaughter onboard. He was still so focused on his work with Spock right by his side, helping out as much as possible, that he didn't even hear the turbolift whirl open behind him.

All of a sudden, only the shrieking of a nine-year-old girl could be heard on the Bridge. "Uncle Jimmy!" screamed little Joanna, breaking away from her father's grasp to rush towards Jim.

Much to everyone's amusement, Jim flinched at the sudden noise, completely caught off-guard, but a bright smile almost broke his face open as he immediately swung around to catch a bundle of whirlwind in his arms. His movements knocked his PADD off his chair, but Spock moved quickly to catch it and shift out of the way before Jim or Joanna accidentally smacked him.

"Uncle Jimmy!" laughed Joanna when Jim lifted her and hugged her tightly.

"Hiya, Princess!" grinned Jim. "You've gotten so big since the last time I saw you!"

It was true. The girl was still as brunette as always (like her father), but she had lost some of the pudginess that children had. She was an active kid and her arms were so slender that Jim was almost worried that his strength would break her apart. Almost. It didn't stop him from hugging her to an inch of her life. Her cute little dimples only encouraged him.

She resembled her father in his handsomeness; those brown eyes were almost exactly the same, except hers was full of innocence and wonder. There was so much awe and amazement in her eyes whenever she looked at Jim, and it just made him feel all fuzzy and warm inside – feelings that Jim almost never had.

Bones just chuckled at the two. A genuine smile was on his face and all semblance of his usual grouchiness was gone. There was a lightness in his body language that no one had ever seen (except for Jim, of course). For the first time in a long time, Leonard McCoy was relaxed, and it was definitely because of the presence of a certain little girl.

"Jo, don't break your Uncle Jimmy," McCoy joked.

Joanna turned her wide, innocent eyes to her father. "But if I do, you'll just fix him right up, right, Daddy?"

Jim actually groaned. "Don't encourage him, Princess. You know how he gets with his hyposprays."

The Bridge laughed at that, remembering all the times that they had seen Jim run from McCoy and the games that he played to get out of vaccinations.

"Hey, Princess, have you eaten yet? You should go down to find Scotty. He makes the meanest sandwich on this side of the universe."

"She ain't goin' down to that god-forbidden death trap," McCoy warned. "Aren't repairs still bein' made?"

"Nah, they can't figure out what went wrong," Jim replied. There was a twinkle in Jim's eye when he spoke.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Captain, should I know what you and Mr. Scott did to the engines?"

Jim was a picture of innocence. "Why, I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Spock."

Sulu came up to Spock, "Trust me, ignorance is bliss."

"And I suppose you know what the Captain did, Mr. Sulu?"

"No, but Chekov does, and he still giggles every time he tries to talk about it, which can't mean anything good."

They all turned to look at Chekov. The Russian was grinning like a loon.

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Alright, no questions it is."

Jim smiled. "Anyway, Bones, you can just take Princess to the mess hall. Use replicator number three and get her something good."

"What's so special about replicator three?" wondered Sulu. "And how come I've never heard about it?"

"There's something called regulations, Sulu. Got to uphold it and all," quipped Jim.

"What did you do, Jim?" sighed Spock.

"I didn't do anything, I swear. Scout's honor." Jim raised his left hand to make the Scout's sign.

"That's completely wrong, idiot," Bones said, but the amusement could easily be heard.

Jim ignored him and set Joanna on the ground, straightening her pastel blue dress and her hair that was tied up in a half-ponytail. The soft smile on his face wasn't something that people usually saw. He looked at Joanna like she was his biological daughter, and it was endearing to say the least.

"How about it, Princess? You hungry?"

"Are you going to join us, Uncle Jimmy?" she asked.

"Sorry, Princess, I can't. I've got some work I need to finish up, but I'll meet you guys there, okay?" Jim looked up at McCoy, "Thirty minutes?"

"Yeah, we can wait for you that long. Come on, Jo. Let's leave your Uncle Jimmy to do his work."

Joanna nodded. "Thirty minutes, Uncle Jimmy. I'm counting!"

Jim chuckled. "I got it, Princess. See you soon." He leaned down so she could plant a kiss on his cheek before she scampered off towards her father.

Bones immediately lowered his hand so she could hold it and together, they entered the turbolift. Jim took the PADD from Spock and started to work again before the doors even closed. He'd have to get a head start if he was going to finish by Joanna's timeline.

"So…'Uncle Jimmy'?" Sulu teased.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Don't start, Sulu."

"What about 'Princess'?"

"That's starting, Sulu. What did I say about that?"

Uhura grinned and joined in. "You ever think about having kids, Kirk?"

"You offering, Uhura?" taunted Jim, unable to stop his cheekiness.

"I'm going to hit you."

"Is that a promise?"

Uhura smiled sweetly at him. "Of course, Captain. I still owe you for our dare from last time."

Jim consciously crossed his legs and covered his groin with his PADDs. "Uh…I think I'll pass then. Thanks."

"So, kids?" Uhura asked again.

"Nope."

Surprise was clear in her face. "Never?"

"Nah, don't think I'd be a good father," he replied, looking back down on his PADD.

He said those words so aloofly and carelessly that the crew just knew that there was a deeper meaning to what he said. Jim always sounded like that when the topic geared a little bit too close to his past – to something that should never be spoken of.

So they just let it be and let him continue to work in silence, even though their curiosity burned.

From just the brief interaction with McCoy's daughter, anyone could see that Jim would've made an amazing father. Jim was great with kids and kids loved him. He knew how to be a father; he knew how to take care of children. Hell, all he ever did on Tarsus was act as a father to all "his" kids.

So why would he think otherwise?

It was Joanna's idea to beam down to Earth. She had already explored every nook and cranny of the ship, with Jim, Scotty, and Chekov's help, of course. The Command crew had gotten along with Joanna like oil and fire – inseparable from the moment they met.

Uhura was her big sister; Spock indulged her curious mind and answered all the questions that she could ever come up with. She and Chekov were like siblings, both running around like the young ones they were with Sulu and McCoy chasing after them to make sure they didn't hurt themselves. Jim and Scotty were the instigators and the enablers, giggling with Joanna as they squirmed through the Jefferies tubes.

Whatever the crew did with Joanna, Jim did it all and more. He was never more than a couple of feet away from her. He played with her, explained the secrets of the universe under a fortress of blankets and pillows, and waged war on Bones and anyone else who dared to come close to their "kingdom".

Everyone could see exactly how Jim became "Uncle Jimmy". He was the fun uncle that every kid dreamed of having and every parent was worried about. In fact, the crew was almost curious how McCoy just sat back and let Jim bring Joanna around the Enterprise, teaching her all the various skills that he was ever so famous for.

Knowing how overprotective McCoy was his little girl, the crew was slightly baffled and alarmed to see Jim swinging Joanna around in the air while McCoy just stood there, grouching like usual, but making no movements to stop them.

But then they took a closer look.

With everything that Jim did with Joanna, he watched her like a hawk. His blue eyes never left her and the nearby surroundings. An infinity of calculations flashed behind those cerulean irises; his body was tense like he was ready for a battle at any moment.

Despite the activities that Jim and Joanna did, Jim was extremely careful with her, judging and gauging her safety with each movement. He was ready to jump in at any second to protect her. And if any of their past missions said anything, it meant that he was willing to even give his life for her.

It would have been more worrisome if it wasn't for the fact that they were on the Enterprise and everyone was keeping a closer eye on Jim just because he was always around Joanna.

Still, the ship could only be entertaining to a nine-year-old girl for about a few hours. It was summertime in Georgia and Joanna was just aching to go to the beach and try out her new two-piece, much to McCoy's alarm. Everyone, including Jim, said no at first, but when she turned her big brown eyes them, they (meaning Jim) melted.

So now, the Command crew, except for Spock who offered to stay behind and finish up the extra work, found themselves enjoying themselves on the beach. Uhura was lying on a beach towel, sun-tanning in her bikini; Scotty sat next to her, wearing civvies and eating a sandwich. Sulu, Chekov, and Jim were all in swim trunks and standing by the beach, each with their own surfing boards. No one had any idea where they procured that from, but with Jim, Chekov, and Scotty's skills, it wouldn't be beyond them to replicate surfing boards.

Like Scotty, McCoy was simply wearing his civvies – a form-fitting t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. Oddly enough, the crew learned that McCoy didn't exactly like water. It wasn't that he couldn't swim. He just didn't like the feel of water on his skin. Unusual, yes, but it seemed almost normal with everyone else's quirks, especially Jim's.

Joanna, on the other hand, was dressed in a cute frilly, pink two-piece, and practically clinging to Jim in excitement. Without further ado, she, Jim, Chekov, and Sulu pranced into the ocean. Sulu, having grown up in California, was in charge of teaching Chekov how to surf while Jim teamed up with Joanna and freely surfed around on the low waves.

"I can't believe that you're letting Kirk take Joanna surfing," commented Uhura from where she lay watching her friends having fun.

McCoy turned and glanced at her briefly before looking back out at the ocean. "Jim may be reckless, but he'll never let Jo come to harm."

"It's just, Kirk ends up in the Sickbay a lot."

"Aye, that's true, but Jim is more careful when it comes ta someone else," Scotty mumbled around his sandwich.

"Just watch," McCoy said.

And sure enough, a large wave came around and overbalanced Jim's board. Instantly, Jim reached out for Joanna, tucking her against his chest as he curled around her. He rotated in midair so that his body was a shield for Joanna, which was quite a feat, considering that he barely had three feet to maneuver in before he hit the water.

Seconds later, Jim resurfaced with Joanna sitting comfortably on his shoulders as he tread water, keeping them afloat. She giggled, shaking the drops of water out of her face, and had fun making Jim swim around like her personal taxi. Laughter was evident on their expressions – clearly, their little mishap did nothing to dampen the amount of fun that they were having.

"See?" McCoy said to Uhura with a small smile.

She nodded, smiling back. "Yeah, I get it."

"He's got a soft spot for kids."

"Yeah, about that. Kirk said that he wouldn't be a very good father, but he's a natural at it. Why would he think that he's not cut out for it?"

McCoy shrugged. "He's said that to me too, but he's never explained it further. I think that he's afraid."

"What do you mean?"

"This is all conjecture, but statistically, kids who were abused generally grow up to do the same to their own, and Jim knows it. He's always been afraid of turning into a monster."

"That's ridiculous." A man like Jim who cared about others unconditionally could never turn into a monster, no matter what he done or experienced in the past.

"That's what I said, but you know Jim. You start talkin' about emotions and he runs like an angry badger is nippin' at his heels."

Uhura raised an eyebrow. "Angry badgers?"

"We're in Georgia. Makes sense here." McCoy turned back to the ocean and shouted out to Jim and Joanna. "Jo! Jim! Come back in. Let's go get some ice cream!"

Distantly, McCoy heard Joanna excitedly respond and waited patiently for her to come back to shore.

Jim grinned when he heard Bones' proposal and reached up to let Joanna down from his shoulders. He held her up, keeping her afloat. "You think you can get back on your own?" he asked. "I'm going to go save our surfboard."

She nodded fervently. "Come quickly, Uncle Jimmy, or I'm going to eat all your ice cream!"

Jim chuckled. "Not if I beat you to it, Princess. Now get. Your dad's waiting for you."

He gave her a gentle push and watched her swim confidently and strongly for a minute. They hadn't been too far away from the shore, but Jim still never would've let her swim back alone if Sulu had purposefully surfed closer to the two of them when they heard McCoy yell.

It was important to give Joanna freedom and independence so that she didn't feel stifled by how overprotective the crew was of her – Jim personally knew how frustrating that could be, making him feel like he was incapable of doing anything without someone hovering his shoulder. He didn't mind it most of the time because it meant that they cared (and honestly, Jim got less injuries this way), but when it was time to relax, like now, being smothered was the last thing that anyone wanted. But the crew already had so much practice pretending to not be watching when they actually were (they were friends with Jim, after all), so Joanna never suspected a thing.

Jim made sure that Sulu had an eye on Joanna before turning round. It took a few powerful strokes to reach his board. It would've been a pity if he let it wash away. Chekov and he had done some extensive rewiring and configuration to the replicators to make them. They were an absolute stroke of genius and Jim would have been a bit disappointed if his board met its end by sailing out to the ocean where no one would see it.

He climbed onto it and lay down on his chest, spreading across it like a cat. He floated for a brief moment, just enjoying the feeling of happiness that made him feel like he was on cloud nine.

The first time he heard about Joanna, it was when he and Bones were both drunk out of their minds on yet another missed birthday. The shine in Bones' eyes when he spoke of her was something that Jim was intimately familiar with. He didn't have any biological children – a miracle in itself with how many people he had slept with – but he knew what it was like to love someone so unconditionally that it was almost like they were extensions of himself.

By no real choice of his own, Jim had become a father to many kids on Tarsus IV. He knew each of them by name, by their faces and features. He knew their past, their likes and dislikes, and their dreams that never came to be. More than anything, Jim knew what it felt like to have his heart ripped out by the loss of a child.

No parent should ever have to feel that pain – that blind-stabbing agony that could break even the strongest of souls.

It was for that reason alone that Jim didn't want to have kids, despite saying that he wouldn't make a very good father. After losing so many on Tarsus, there was simply nothing left in Jim to give – no more soul to break.

But Joanna was a different story. From the first moment they met, she had healed him on so many levels that Jim didn't even know which way to turn, just as her father did. She touched him with her innocence and her childish love of everything that came her way. She was a bundle of light and warmth that Jim so desperately hoped would remain untainted.

It was too late for Jim, but if the world turned black, all that mattered was that she remained white.

He watched her reach shore and jump happily into Bones' arms, knowing full well that she was getting him wet. He could imagine Bones grouching about it with an amused twinkle in his eye and the laughing expression on Jo's face. Not for the first time, Jim felt a rush of gratitude that they had so easily accepted him into their family when he had none to start with.

"Uncle Jimmy". It was the one title that Jim was never going to give up. He could forsake his Captaincy and his fame and reputation, but "Uncle Jimmy"? Jim was going to take that one to the grave.

Smiling, Jim got to his feet when he sensed a wave coming and let its momentum push him towards Jo and Bones. By the time Jim got to shore, Joanna and Bones were a few feet away from the ice cream stand that was set at a good distance from the water, away from the highest tides. He knew that Bones was going to get him a mint-chocolate chip cone – it was his favorite after all – and he was more than excited to run up to the doctor and take it off his hands.

Sulu and Chekov both came in around the same time as he did and quickly fell into step with him.

"You're so whipped, Kirk," grinned Sulu, "She's got you wrapped around her pinky."

Jim scoffed. "As if you aren't either. Don't think I didn't see you keep an eye out for her while on the water. Chekov wouldn't have tipped over as much if you weren't so distracted."

"Vhat? Is zat true, Hikaru?" asked Chekov, his eyes wide and confused.

"Of course not, Pavel!"

Jim laughed as Sulu started to backtrack and defend himself against Chekov, but that cut short as an ominous feeling suddenly washed over him. Without really thinking about it, Jim started to catalog his surroundings: Uhura lying on the beach on her stomach, perfect content; Scotty on probably his fourth sandwich (ham and swiss); Sulu and Chekov next to him bickering and Bones and Joanna taking their cones from the ice cream stand.

The beach was relatively empty except for them; there were more people in the distance, but they were too far to be relevant. Beyond the sand were small bushes that served as a border between the beach and the paved parking lot.

A movement caught Jim's eye and he watched as an unmarked, large, black hovercar roll up near the ice cream stand. Immediately, gears began turning in Jim's mind.

"Kirk, you okay?" asked Sulu.

Jim had suddenly stopped moving without realizing it, looking at both McCoy and Joanna in the distance with a calculating frown on his face.

That caught Chekov's attention. "Keptin?"

"Sulu, call Spock and backup," Jim replied, his voice distant.

"What? Why?"

Jim suddenly sprung in action, shouting, "Now, Sulu, now!" as he sprinted away, surprisingly not towards McCoy or his daughter, but towards Scotty.

He barely even paused before he leaned down and grabbed a communicator that Scotty had before disappearing off into the distance, beyond the shrubbery.

Simultaneously, the door of the hovercar near McCoy opened and out popped three large masked men. One slammed the butt of a gun against the back of McCoy's head. He went down, unconscious, before he even saw them. The other two snatched up a screaming Joanna, dragging her into the hovercar.

Sulu and Chekov were already running when McCoy fell, but they knew that they were going to be too late to save Joanna.

At the sight of the two sprinting like their life depended on it and Joanna's sudden cries for help and her daddy, Uhura and Scotty sprang up, the former pulling out a phaser from seemingly out of nowhere. But by the time they were on their feet and making their way to McCoy, the car was already pulling away, tires screeching in its haste.

Uhura was instantly on her knees, checking Leonard's health. He was bleeding sluggishly where he was hit and was going to have a nasty headache when he woke up, but he was going to be fine.

"Shit!" swore Sulu as they skidded to a stop beside the unconscious doctor. "Where the hell is Kirk?"

As if to answer his question, a rumbling sound reached their ears, growing louder as the noise got closer to them. It turned out to be Jim – completely shirtless and shoeless – on a probably stolen motorbike, speeding off, chasing after the culprits who had his little "Princess".

"Oh, that's not going to end well…" murmured Sulu.

"For who? The idiots who took Leonard's girl or the idiot who ran off without a shirt, shoes, weapons, or a plan?" snapped Uhura.

"All of the above. Hell hath no fury like a Kirk scorned."

"And then whatev'r McCoy'll do whenever he wakes up," Scotty added.

Uhura sighed. "Someone call Spock. We're going to need a security team too, preferably before Kirk rips apart the entire state to get to Joanna."

"Chekov's already on it," said Sulu, nodding to the Russian who was busy speaking into his own communicator. "Man, those people are in for a rude awakening. No one messes with Kirk's family."

No one touched Jim's little Princess and hurt his best friend without consequences. Consequences that was far too severe for any normal human being to handle. Check that – for anyone to handle.

Sulu was certainly right.

Hell hath no fury like a protective Kirk.

As Jim watched the black hovercar slowly approach Bones and Joanna, he could feel his skin crawl. Instantly, his instincts screamed at him, telling him to move and protect, but his mind had yet to make the connections.

A blink later and Jim just knew that whoever was in the car was after either Bones or Joanna. It was unmarked and its presence in the vicinity of people meant that it was a kidnapping, not just a hit. It could still very be an ambush, but no matter what Jim did, he wouldn't have enough to time to stop that. All he could do was go after the sons of bitches that even dared to touch his family.

He blinked, and instantly, the world around him materialized in his mind as he remembered every single detail that he had seen, searching for something to work with.

Recalling a motorcycle parked a parking lot away from where Jim and his friends had beamed down in, Jim immediately took off towards it. He barely noticed the fact that Sulu was still yelling at him while he grabbed the communicator – Spock would need a way to track him – and leapt over the bushes.

Jim felt a rush of immense relief and gratitude that the person that owned the bike hadn't left yet. With no hesitation, Jim jumped onto it, his nails scratching against the metal as he pulled away a compartment to reach the wires. A few crisscrosses and a spark later, the bike roared to life beneath him. He glanced up briefly to see the men drag Joanna into the car and drive off.

The clutch beneath Jim's hand almost broke as he revved the bike. It took off so fast that Jim's body jolted, even though he had expected the lurch. As he chased after the black car, Jim noted his crew reaching the downed doctor.

Bones was lying on his side, completely limp, with his arm outstretched as if reaching for his daughter. Concern and panic ripped through Jim as he saw the slack expression on his best friend. His mind jumped to the worst. Raw, shattering grief overwhelmed him. The simple thought of having to return back to his normal everyday life with Bones was heart-wrenching, tearing open a void in Jim's barely whole heart. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He wasn't even sure if his blood was flowing though his veins anymore.

Bones couldn't be dead. He just couldn't, because there wouldn't be a Jim without Bones. Jim was only who he was because of Bones. He would have long ago drowned in his father's shadow, his mother's hatred, and the torment of his past if it wasn't for Bones.

He couldn't do this if Bones wasn't with him, laughing, grouching, and just being there for him.

Jim felt his eyes burn with tears, but he wouldn't let them fall. Almost as quickly as the despair had filled him, anger quickly replaced it, like a hot air balloon full of hydrogen gas that was seconds away from exploding.

How dare these people, whoever the fuck they were, hurt (because he refused to think the worst anymore, not when Jo was in danger) Bones and take Jo?! How dare they harm his family?!

Jim wanted so desperately to just overtake the stupid car and do something completely reckless that would result in a flaming accident, but Jo was in there. The one thing Jim could still save and protect, and he was damned if he would let her come to more harm.

With more willpower than Jim thought he had, he shoved all his fears and grief about Bones behind a thick, metal wall. His focus narrowed to only one thing: Joanna.

He eased on the clutch to stay a car or two behind the one that he was tracking. Surprise was easily his greatest asset right now and he made sure that he was unnoticed while he tailed his targets.

Silently, he followed Jo's captors for a good twenty minutes before they turned into a collection of large, abandoned warehouses. Jim parked a couple of warehouses away, just to stay out of sight. Wheeling the bike into an alley, Jim quietly crept to the corner and watched the goons pulled a still screaming and fighting Joanna out of the car and into a warehouse.

Training immediately kicked in. Jim surveyed the perimeter, taking count of all the men positioned outside. There were two men watching the entrance – both with archaic AK-47s and wearing those cliché black suits that one saw in twenty-first century mafia films. Jim could easily take those down, but he was sure that they weren't the only ones. Jim's luck always meant that something more difficult was just waiting on the horizon.

Eyeing the buildings themselves, Jim realized that these were like airplane hampers: generally empty behind the four metal walls with a walkway towards the top that went around like a running track above the space below. There could be other rooms within the warehouse where more henchmen could be hiding out in, but Jim couldn't be sure until he was inside.

These types of places were always difficult to completely secure. There were too many openings, too many weak points, not that most criminals would know. Because there was only one entrance, the culprits usually thought that that was the one point of entry.

But of course, not everyone could be a genius like Jim.

Jim knew for a fact that the weakest points of these warehouses were its roofs. If there were windows, they were weak and did not hold up against much weight. These buildings weren't built to protect against attacks or people like Jim. They were meant for storage, which made Jim's job much easier, though it would help if Jim had thought to grab some shoes before he left.

Like a cat, Jim easily scaled the sleek, metal walls, using the ridges to maintain his grip. Having bare feet made it easier to cling to the building, but the harshness and hardness was painful against his unprotected feet. If he kept on going, he was sure that his feet were going to be bloody by the end of this, but that was a small price to pay if it meant Jo's safety.

Quietly, Jim balanced carefully on the edge of the roof. He was right: raggedy glass windows lined the surroundings, allowing Jim a clear view of what was going on inside.

There were at least four men with guns guarding the upper catwalk; ten more on the bottom guarding seven large trucks with their shipment containers. Desks lined the center of the warehouse, forming a sort of office with lamps, bulletin boards, and papers lying about them. There weren't any rooms, like what Jim had thought, but he guessed that was what the trucks were for. As a spy for Starfleet, Jim couldn't help but feel an innate burning curiosity to know what were in them.

With great difficulty, Jim motionlessly watched Joanna being thrown roughly into the far left container – one that Jim assumed was empty. She never gave up, kicking and shouting every second – Jim was immensely proud and terrified for her at the same time.

He eased the window open slightly and voices started to drift up towards him.

"You run into any trouble?" said one man, the Southern drawl familiar. It was almost exactly like Bones'. He was dressed smartly in a suit, his brown hair slicked back.

"Naw. They never suspected a thing," responded a goon who was dressed similarly.

"Send the message out to Treadway. Tell him we have his daughter and if he ain't payin' up, then we'll return her slowly, piece by piece."

Treadway? Wasn't that the last name of the man who remarried Bones' ex-wife? Dots started to connect again. Treadway must've gotten into some financial trouble with these men who were now using Joanna as leverage. Jim wondered if Jocelyn and her husband knew of this imminent attack and chose to run. It explained why they left in such a rush and why they had insisted on Bones to take care of Jo.

"Already done."

"Good. Trask?"

"He'll be coming soon with the new shipments."

The man nodded. "Keep an eye out on the brat. Don't let her get out."

He signaled to two of his men who immediately posted themselves at the door to the truck.

Jim could hear Joanna yelling and banging against the walls of her entrapment. She was clearly more angry than afraid. Jim wasn't surprised – it seemed like Bones' gutsy courage was genetic.

The head honcho started to move away and out of sight. Jim kept still for a few minutes, categorizing and memorizing the guards' patterns. Only when he was absolutely sure that he could slip in unnoticed did he make his move.

He edged the window open further, just barely enough for him to fit through. He did it carefully, going headfirst as he slid downwards. Pressing his palms against the metal grating hard, he pushed all his weight onto his arms, almost thrusting his body into a handstand, but he paused at the last second and kept his raised foot in place to keep the window from snapping shut. Slowly, and with great control, Jim lowered his foot and the glass pane with it until there was no trace of him ever entering the warehouse.

Jim immediately crouched low, keeping out of sight, but he knew that he wouldn't remain unnoticed for long. There was nowhere for Jim to hide. He would have to get rid of the men on the walkway before someone sounded the alarm.

With almost inhuman speed, Jim darted forward a few feet to where the walkway turned a corner and launched himself into the air. He used the three connecting walls to hold himself up like a spider's web that was hidden unnoticed high up by the ceiling. As the first man wandered into his territory, Jim let himself go, dropping straight down onto the goon's shoulders with his hand already covering the man's mouth. He wasted absolutely no time and twisted the man's neck so hard and fast that he was dead before he even reached the ground. In the same movement, Jim stole the simple handgun from the man's holster.

The thud attracted the attention of the three other guards and before they had a chance to shout or pull out their guns, Jim had already taken aim and shot straight and true – each bullet making its way into the men's heads.

There was no chance that the men below didn't hear the commotion, and almost automatically, they raised their heads and guns to the catwalk. Only, all they saw were the unconscious bodies of their comrades and nothing else.

Out of absolute nowhere, Jim pounced off the walkway, diving down as if there was water beneath him. He rotated midair and rolling as the men started shooting at him; his movements dodged most bullets. It helped that the people were lousy shots.

Twisting one last time, Jim flipped and his outstretched leg landed heavily on a goon's head, knocking him out immediately. Jim used the man as a cushion for a soft and safe landing, but he didn't stay still for very long.

He sprinted to the nearest shelter, which was one of the trucks, and clambered into the front seat. He ducked under the dashboard and he popped out every so often to shoot back with his stolen weapons. Glass shattered all around him, cutting through his bare skin. Blood trickled down his brow and scratches all over his torso, but Jim barely even felt it. There was too much adrenaline rushing through his veins.

He took down six out of the ten counted men before his gun ran out of bullets. Fuck. He hated twenty-first century weaponry for that particular reason alone. The clicking of his empty magazine echoed in the large warehouse.

"You outta bullets?" shouted someone. Jim recognized the voice to be the man in charge.

"Why don't you come on over and check?" Jim yelled back.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Jim was so tempted to ask them who they were. He didn't even know their goddamn names! "I'm your worst fucking nightmare," Jim snarled.

"Yeah? You really think you can take down the rest of my men with an empty cartridge, no shoes, and no shirt? Clearly, there's somethin' you want. Come out. We can come to a compromise."

"What if I want your head?"

The man obviously had no interest in Jim's taunts. Annoyed, Jim dubbed him Pickles (he always hated those things).

Pickles kept talking. "What're you after? Money? Arms?"

Jim looked around, improvising as he formulated a plan. He shifted around, reaching under the wheel for the wires. "I just told you what I want," Jim said as he started to reconfigure the settings.

"Are you Treadway's man?"

"He can go fuck himself for all I care." Real hatred burned through Jim. He didn't know the whole story, but he knew enough to know that Joanna wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if Treadway didn't do something stupid.

"Then why're you here?"

Jim didn't reply, too focused in what he was doing.

"Wait, are you here for the girl?"

That made Jim pause and he glanced up, peeking at Pickles curiously. "What if I am?" he asked cautiously.

"If you have no connection to Treadway, why do you want her?"

"I have no interest in what you want from Treadway. All I want is her safety."

"Come on out. Let's discuss this like men."

The anger was back. "Says the ones who kidnapped a little girl."

"Come out or we shoot the girl."

Panic started to rear its ugly head before Jim shoved it down. The threat was just a ruse – one that he normally wouldn't pay any attention to, but his plan was set. He was ready and it was time to make an appearance.

"Alright, alright! I'm coming out. Don't shoot her." Slowly, Jim raised his head, kicking open the door and stepped down. He had his arms held up in a surrender.

Four men had their guns trained on Jim. Pickles was a few feet behind his thugs.

"Who're you?" he demanded.

Now Jim was insulted. "Are you serious? How do you not know who the fuck I am?"

"Hang on. I think I recognize him," said one of Pickles' men. Jim named him Bozo. "That's Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise!" he exclaimed, his tone and body language completely panicked.

"Thank you," Jim caustically sniped. "It's good to know that one of your men has brains."

"What the fuck is a Starfleet Captain doing in the middle of bum-fuck country town?" shouted the guy next to him, or Goose, as Jim decided to call him.

Jim's expression twisted, turning cold like a cobra about to strike. He took a step forward, completely disregarding the fact everyone flinched at his movement. It helped that his rumors were widely exaggerated (slightly) – it made him seem so much more formidable even when he was half-naked.

"The man that you guys took out to get the girl? He happens to be one of my men – my best friend, in fact," Jim hissed, venom in every single word. The metal wall he had constructed in his mind cracked at the thought of Bones, or maybe that was what was left of his damaged heart. At this point, he wasn't sure.

He clenched his fists, concentrating more on his pure, unadulterated fury at the fuckers before him. Fire blazed in his blue eyes. "I'm sure that if you've heard of me, you've heard of what I do to those that hurt or threaten my people," Jim snarled.

Pickles laughed loudly. "What the hell can you do empty-handed, Captain?"

Jim smiled, his head cocked menacingly. "Do you really want to find out?"

Goose, as expected, started to shift around nervously. "Boss, this guy's crazy. I heard he took down an entire cell of convicts that attacked the Enterprise with a communicator and PADD."

"Actually, it was just a PADD," Jim corrected. "Look, I don't give a damn about what you do with Treadway. Give me the girl and I'll leave you guys in peace. I won't report you or anything. All I want is the girl."

Pickles contemplated it for a second before nudging Bozo. "Get the girl."

"Boss, you sure?" Bozo questioned.

"Get her now."

Jim felt his heart leap. Perhaps things were actually going to go smoothly for once in his fucking life?

Bozo nodded and passed his gun to Pickles. Cautiously, he walked in a giant semi-circle around Kirk whose blue eyes seemed to freeze his soul from the inside out as they followed his every step. He disappeared behind Jo's truck and suddenly, her screams and indignant yells of "My daddy and Uncle are going to kick all your butts!" could be heard.

Bozo's grunts filled the air. They came into view: Bozo was carrying Joanna like a puppy under his arm. She was kicking and struggling every second. Then she looked up. Her brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Uncle Jimmy!" she exclaimed. The sight of him made her fight with more fervor and one of her elbows got a lucky shot in, striking Bozo in his ribs. He was so caught off guard by the surprise pain that he actually dropped Joanna.

Instantly, she made a run directly for Jim who quickly swept her off her feet and hugged her tightly to his chest. He tilted his body, his new position shielding Joanna fairly well.

Rubbing her back comfortingly, Jim whispered into her ear. "That's my girl. It's gonna be alright, Princess. Promise." He purposely added a tint of Southern accent into his words to better soothe her. "Your Uncle Jimmy is going to take care of this and bring you back to your dad, so please, keep quiet, okay? Please?"

He felt her nod against him. He leaned down and kissed her on the head. "Good girl."

"See, she's safe," Pickles smiled, completely unworried.

Jim glared at him. "You're not going to let us walk out of here, are you?"

"Too much leverage in one place. I'm not an idiot, Captain. Even if I can't get Treadway to pay up, I'm sure Starfleet will pay a large sum for your safety."

"You have four men left. You think they'll be enough to stop me?" The ice in his threat froze all the men to their places and unexplainable fear began to consume them.

Uncertainty flickered on Pickles' face, but a loud honking interrupted the conversation and a wide grin replaced the doubt. The doors to the warehouse opened electronically with the remote that Pickles' pulled out of his jacket pocket.

Jim felt his stomach sink as three convoys came driving in. He counted at least twelve men in each one, all carrying AK-47s. Fuck. The shipment that Trask was bringing in – the one that Pickles was checking on when Jim was still doing recon – wasn't goods or money. It was hired hands.

Oh, shit. Jim was good, but he wasn't that good. He clutched the silent Joanna tighter to him.

"Good to see you, Trask. Good timin' as always," said Pickes.

Trask – a middle-aged, bald man in a leather jacket – sauntered up to Pickles. "What's going on here? Is that Captain Kirk?"

"Yeah. We really hit the jackpot now."

A tint of worry started to lick at Jim's gut. He felt Scotty's communicator burning his skin where it was hitched to the back of his swim-pants. He knew that Spock and the others were tracing it, but at this point, Jim wasn't sure if they'd make it to them on time. He had stalled for as long as he could.

Seconds were ticking down. It was going to be too close. Far too close for comfort.

Jim had a tiny window of opportunity and he was going to take it, despite what was going to happen to him.

He curled over Joanna, ducking his head so his entire body shielded hers, and took off sprinting away from Pickles and his men. Shouts erupted from behind him as did sounds of gunshots. Sharp pain lanced Jim's side; he could feel immense heat and blood trickle from the graze, but he ignored it and kept going.

Three.

Two.

One.

And then all that anyone in the warehouse knew was fire, pain, and darkness.

McCoy came awake to a sharp pain in the cheek followed by a resounding throbbing in his head. He groaned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of the chaotic mess in his mind. Echoes of Joanna's screams grew louder and louder until McCoy was snapping to complete attention with fear, worry, and panic.

"Jo!" he gasped, his sudden movements almost making him head-butt Uhura in the face.

Relief was evidence in her expressions. "Good, you're awake. Sorry for slapping you, Leonard, but we need to get moving."

McCoy looked around – they were still on the beach, but they were now joined by Spock and a fully decked out security team who stood beside a large hover-van. Uhura, Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov had already changed into their Starfleet uniform.

Uhura was holding out an extra one to McCoy. "Get dressed. We have to go."

"Wha…?" Confusion was still evident in Leonard's face. "Wait, where's Jim? Where's Jo?"

"The idiot went after the morons who took Joanna," Sulu replied as he walked up to them. There was wonder in his next words. "He knew that something was going down before it even happened and he took off running. Seconds later, he's driving a motorcycle and chasing after car."

Alarm spread through McCoy. "Did he see me go down?"

Sulu frowned. "Yeah, why?"

"Did he check on me before he left?"

"Nope. He was right on the car's tail before they both disappeared from view."

McCoy surged to his feet, pulling on the uniform as he did. "We have to go."

"That's what I've been saying!" Uhura said, exasperated. "Spock has already tracked down the communicator Jim took and we're ready to move out. Joanna's going to be safe, Leonard, especially if Kirk's there."

"No, you don't understand," growled McCoy. "Jim doesn't know if I'm dead or alive."

Realization dawned on Uhura and Sulu and then fear filled them too. If Jim thought that McCoy was dead, then he was going to raze this city to the ground.

"Spock!" yelled Uhura, keeping her eye on Leonard even as she started to run to the Vulcan. "Spock! We have to go, now!"

The urgency in her words and movements made Spock and the rest spur into action without another question. Everyone piled into the van with Sulu in the driver's seat and Spock in the passenger's. The Vulcan had his PADD out with a map on it. He kept his eyes focused on the blinking red dot that they were slowly getting closer to and gave crisp and accurate directions to Sulu.

Eighteen minutes later, they arrived in an array of warehouses.

"Which one is it, Spock?" demanded McCoy.

"I do not know," the Vulcan responded.

"What do you mean 'you don't know'?!"

"The trace is not accurate enough to determine which one Jim is in."

"Doesn't matter," Sulu said quickly, already scanning the warehouses. "Look for the one that's smoking, burning down, or I don't know, covered in weird purple goop. This is Kirk we're talking about. He's flashy wherever he goes."

An explosion nearby rocked the air, shaking the van and all the occupants in it.

Chekov looked sheepish and pointed out the window. "I zhink I found him."

Sulu was already moving the car towards the warehouse on fire. The security team and everyone were out and moving about before the car was parked completely. They stormed the open doors to see a number of men groaning and shifting around listlessly as they tried to escape the pain. Many were bleeding from shrapnel; others were slowly being eaten by fire, but they wouldn't feel the agony ever again.

Four trucks and their shipment containers were lying on their sides like cows that were tipped over; two more were left upright, but slightly scorched. The one closest to the men seemed to have been completely blown apart from the inside out. No doubt Jim's work there.

"Secure the room," Spock commanded to the team. "Search for Captain Kirk and Miss Joanna."

The crew spread out quickly, swarming and searching, while half of security handcuffed the remaining live criminals.

"What the hell happened here?" breathed Sulu. With each step he took, something crunched under his feet.

"Jim happened," McCoy said simply. Those two words were enough to explain everything.

"Ze explosion vas wery large," Chekov commented. "Ze Keptin must've forced the engine of ze truck to explode."

Uhura delicately stepped over the body of an unknown man. "So where is he?"

"How much do you want to bet that he's hiding behind one of those trucks?" Sulu said lightly.

Banging suddenly burst out from the back corner of the warehouse, but it was clearly not from behind the trucks.

"Or he could be inside one," commented Spock with a tinge of a sigh in his words.

McCoy sprinted to furthest truck with the rest of the Command crew on his heels. "Jim! Joanna!" he shouted, his fingers fumbling with the lock on the doors.

The instant he unlocked them, he flung it wide open to see a bloody and slightly singed Jim staring at them with suspicion and wariness. His entire body was poised and ready to attack any intruders even as he still remained curled around a completely unharmed Joanna.

Then he recognized the man standing before him: it was Bones – completely alive and well. His brown eyes were blazing with worry and fear for Jim and his daughter. Sweat was dripping down his brow from running around; he was breathing heavy and his hair was windblown.

All in all, it was the look of a man who was more alive than how Jim felt.

Bones was alright. Bones was alive and Joanna was safe. Those words repeated over and over again in Jim's mind like a mantra.

And just like that, Jim's world righted itself right then and there. He had been so focused on saving Joanna that he hadn't let himself think back to the sight of Bones lying so limply on the ground. But the thought of losing his best friend had seeped into his subconscious. He hadn't even been aware of how lopsided he was until Bones was standing before him. He hadn't realized how tight his chest was, threatening to suffocate him where he was.

But as he watched Bones shout his name and Joanna's, he found that could breathe again.

A goofy, soft look spread across his face as he grinned brightly at Bones and his friends.

"Hey!" Jim greeted with a smile, his cheekiness all about him. "What took you guys so long?"

McCoy's relief was so strong that he actually fell to his knees.

Jim's happiness quickly morphed into alarm. "Bones! You okay?" just as Joanna leapt out of Jim's arms to wrap hers around McCoy.

"Daddy!" she cried happily.

The solid presence of his daughter pushed McCoy out of his reverie and he hugged her so tight that she could barely breathe. "Oh, Jo. I'm so glad you're alright."

In front of him, Bones heard Jim speak to Sulu. "You guys stopped and changed? What the hell, guys?"

"Unlike you," Uhura said, rolling her eyes, "We had the sense to not rush into a potentially dangerous situation without any shoes or shirt."

"Enjoying the view?" quipped Jim.

Uhura glanced at Jim's rock-hard abs. "Hmm. I've seen better," she shrugged.

"What a liar," Jim chuckled. "You bring me any clothes?"

"Nope," grinned Uhura. "We were too preoccupied with the search for Joanna."

"This is mutiny, I tell you, mutiny!"

"How did you even get stuck in this container?" asked Sulu with a sly grin. "Was that part of your plan, Kirk?"

Jim heard the implications easily. "Excuse you, my plans are always awesome. And I didn't exactly think that the stupid lock was going to latch in the midst of the explosion."

It was Scotty who realized that something was off. For all that Jim was saying, he hadn't moved a muscle. "You okay, Jim?"

Instantly, six heads snapped around to stare at Jim and really looked at him. He was covered in soot and blood, but they couldn't be sure if it was Jim's or the people he took down. No details could be discerned while Jim kept himself hidden in the shadows of the truck, which was worrisome to say the least.

Jim shook their concern away. "I'm fine."

Now that Joanna was clinging to her father like a monkey, Jim was free to move, though he did it mostly to show his friends that he was alright. Keeping in the dark, he scooted to the edge of the truck. He remained sitting, even as he slyly grasped the corner of the vehicle for support. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Sulu, who happened to be the closest to Jim. Sulu frowned and was about to take a step forward to help him when Jim shot him a surreptitious glare that stopped him in his tracks.

Whatever it was that was wrong with Jim, he didn't want anyone to know. At least not yet.

Jim eyed Joanna carefully, noting that she was staring at him with something akin to guilt and worry. Tears had started to accumulate in those pretty brown eyes and Jim felt himself squirming with unease. If he made her cry, he was going to throw himself into the Brig and never come back out. Of all things, he didn't want Joanna to see any of his injuries – dire or not. Even if she was just nine-years-old, she would still blame herself for Jim's injuries. She was just like Bones in that way so he clamped his mouth shut and refused to move further into the light, staying plastered to the wall of the truck.

He could feel his friends dissecting his actions and trying to figure things out, so he quickly started talking, hoping to get them distracted.

"Uhura, bring Bones and Jo back to the Enterprise and keep them sequestered onboard, just in case there're loose ends floating around. And give dear old Jocelyn a call, will you? I have some questions I'd like to ask her husband." Jim shifted and turned to his second-in-command. "Keep this under wraps, Spock. I think Pike is going to get an ulcer if he learns that we messed with the Georgian mafia."

"Would you like me to imprison the men in the Brig?" Spock asked. Bless his soul. He didn't even question Jim's decision to sweep everything under the rug. He was learning to just go along with Jim's insane ideas.

"For now. Figure out who they are and specifically, look into the guy called Trask. He may be a part of a bigger play. And then give the rest up for the local authorities. I'm sure they've been wanting their hands on these jackas–" Jim paused and glanced warily at Joanna. "These jerks," he amended, "for a while now."

"Understood," Spock nodded. "I assume that you will be staying here for the time being."

It wasn't a question, but Jim took it as one all the same. "Yeah. I'd like to poke around for more information on these guys. And before you all tweak out, I'll keep Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov for security purposes. Leave me a couple of men from the security team too. You guys can take the van back with you. We'll beam up when we're done."

His voice trailed off and for a second, Jim looked very confused. It was not an expression that they saw on his face often.

"What?" snapped Uhura, concern making her tone sharp. "Did you hit your head, Kirk?"

"It's just...why the he-heck did you guys bring a van? Did you rent it or something? Where it even come from?"

"Ze GPS on your communicator vas not as clear as it should hawe been, Keptin," explained Chekov. "Zhere must hawe been a jamming signal somevhere because ve could only get your generalized location. Ve did not vant to beam down in the vrong place. Ze van allowed better mobility."

"And yeah, we rented it," finished Sulu.

Jim was too baffled to be satisfied with that. "Who rents out vans anymore?!"

"Of all things, you're hung up on that? How about a thank you for saving you?" Uhura sniped.

"Uh, I had everything taken care of before you showed up, thank you very much."

"Which is why you were locked in a truck when we arrived, right?" She smirked, knowing full well that Kirk had nothing to say against that.

"Fine, you win this round, Uhura. Now get. The sooner we deal with this shi-crap," he changed, "the better. Bottom line: no one tell Pike, got it?"

Uhura snorted. "As if he isn't already aware of all your shenanigans, Kirk. Come on, Spock, Leonard. Let's head back before we get blamed for his messes."

McCoy hesitated, still a bit unwilling to leave Jim behind.

"Go, Bones. I'll be fine," Jim smiled reassuringly. "Take care of Jo, alright? And Princess, don't give your father too much trouble. He was worried sick over you, okay?"

"Yes, Uncle Jimmy," she mumbled. Her small hands were still clutched against Bones' shirt.

"Good. I'll see both you guys later." Jim waved at the two as Uhura and Spock led them towards the van. By then, the security team had already loaded up the remaining felons and formed a sort of physical barrier between the front and back of the van. A few instructions later, three Redshirts jumped out while Spock, Uhura, Leonard, and Joanna climbed in. They were all gone in the matter of minutes.

"So, no kiss goodbye?" teased Sulu.

Jim grimaced. "I would if I could."

"Jim?" questioned Scotty, approaching him.

"It's nothing serious, I swear," Jim frantically said as he recognized those looks of anger and worry in Scotty's, Sulu's, and Chekov's faces. "My feet are a bit messed up. Can't really walk right now."

He shifted and finally came into the light, allowing his friends to see his injuries. There was a small growing puddle of blood around his hips. Burns covered what little of his back that they could see. His feet were torn; in the right one, there was a jagged piece of glass buried within it.

"Ouch," winced Sulu in sympathy.

"It's not bad, Sulu," Jim said again, "But I may need some help getting up."

Wordlessly, Scotty and Sulu leaned forward – each taking one of Jim's arms and heaving him up. Jim couldn't stop a small hiss as they moved towards a more uncluttered region.

They set Jim down carefully on a box that a security officer had set up for him.

"Thank you, Ensign," breathed Jim, settling down. "Hoover, right?"

Hoover snapped to attention. "Yes, sir."

Jim chuckled. "No need for that, Ensign. You and Chen dig around a bit. Find out what was in the trucks and see if there's anything that we can use against them."

"Yes, sir!" replied both Hoover and Chen who turned to obey, leaving their last member standing by Jim.

Jim smiled at him. "Lipinski, loan me that emergency Medpack that I know you always carry around."

It was honestly quite amazing how Jim knew everyone on his ship, and not just by name. He knew their lives, their dreams and habits. He took the time to get to know his crew; the more he knew, the more he could care about them. It was just one of the many reasons why his entire crew respected and loved him.

Lipinski quickly drew out a miniaturized first-aid kit and handed to Jim. "Do you need help, sir? I'm trained in emergency triage."

"No, thank you. That's not necessary."

"Sir, that wound on your foot will require the dermal regenerator or at least some stitches. A bandage alone will not suffice."

"Has Bones been talking to you about my self-preservation instincts? Because I can assure you that I have more than an ant."

"He said it was a mayfly."

Jim chuckled. "My bad. It's fine, Ensign. I can take care of this myself. Please help Hoover and Chen look around. I want to be out of here within an hour or less."

"Understood, sir. Please call me if you need assistance."

"I will, Lipinski. Thank you."

At the silent dismissal, Lipinski joined his comrades in combing the warehouse with a fine-tooth comb.

Jim opened the kit and took out tweezers and gauze. His blue eyes settled on Chekov, Scotty, and Sulu. "If you guys get nauseous from blood, I suggest you look away."

But he didn't give them much time before he lifted his foot, reached down, and wrenched the piece of glass out. Blood immediately gushed out and Jim quickly pressed the gauze onto the wound as he fumbled around the kit, pulling out a portable dermal regenerator. A few seconds later, the machine was whirling and healing his injury.

It took a few minutes. Jim wasn't even aware of the silence until it was broken.

"Doesn't zat hurt, Keptin?" breathed Chekov, his face a little white.

Jim shrugged. "Not really. I've had worse."

"Why didn't you tell McCoy about this?" questioned Sulu.

"I didn't want Jo to see anything and he should really take care of her first."

His vague statement made absolute sense to his friends. They all felt the same protective instincts towards the girl as Jim, though perhaps not quite as strongly as Jim. She was a symbol of purity among them, and the last thing they wanted to do was soil her with blood.

Scotty eyed the rest of Jim's wounds. Most were superficial cuts that had already stopped bleeding. The worst of all the injuries was a graze against Jim's side that was still steadily dripping blood. "Do ya need Lipinski ta help out?"

"Naw, I'm certified in emergency triage, remember?"

The foot had healed and Jim moved on to the graze, pinching together his flesh to make it easier on the dermal regenerator to heal the skin.

"Why are you doing this here again?" asked Sulu. "Couldn't you have waited until you were back onboard where it's sanitary and there aren't dead bodies lying around?"

"Never took you for a squeamish man, Sulu," Jim quipped. "By the way, no one tell Bones about this, got it? I swear to God that I'll make your life a living hell if you do because that's what Bones will do to me. An eye for an eye, got it?"

They chuckled. "Got it."

"Sir, there are weapons in the trucks," Hoover said, coming up to them.

Jim glanced up, taking in Hoover's tense body language. "And their significance, Ensign? I assume you wouldn't have that dark look on your face otherwise."

"They're stolen, sir, from Starfleet."

Instantly, Jim straightened up, ignoring the twinge he felt in his side. "How do you know that?" He distantly recalled a report about an entire shipment of phasers, grenades, and many other types of weaponry disappearing out of thin air. Those weapons were supposed to go to USS Akira to replace all the arms that they had lost during an attack.

"The serial numbers have been scraped off, but a few still have their barcodes. We scanned them and a red flag popped up."

Jim grinned broadly. "Well, I guess we can tell Pike after all."

"Vhat do you mean, Keptin?"

"I just uncovered an underground arms smuggling ring."

"Accidentally," Sulu added.

"Accidental or not, I think I deserve some credit for this."

"How the hell do you always end up walking into these sorts of situations? Last time, you got knighted even after being sentenced to death!"

Jim stood, his weight heavy on his left foot to eliminate any extra pain on his right, and patted Sulu on the shoulder. "I'm just awesome, that's all. Don't be jealous." He nodded to Hoover, Chen, and Lipinski. "Gather everything up and catalog it. We'll help."

The security men hesitated. "Sir," Chen said, "I think you should rest while we take care of this."

Jim looked down at himself, frowning. He was still covered in cuts, bruises, and blood, but it was nothing now that he had healed the more serious injuries. But he couldn't very well go back onboard the way he was at the moment. The whispers would reach Bones' ears and he'd have a whole new problem to deal with. "Sulu, give me your uniform."

"What?"

"Come on, now's not the time to be shy. Pass me your uniform so people stop staring."

"Never thought I'd see the day that Jim Kirk wants to put on more clothes," smirked Sulu as he pulled his gold uniform off and handed it to Jim.

"Har, har. Hilarious, Sulu," Jim deadpanned. Luckily, Sulu was the same size as him; it covered the majority of all the lacerations and bruises on his torso. "Now get to work. I want everything wrapped up in half-an-hour. Chekov, Scotty, work together to make sure we can beam all this stuff up."

Hoover, Chen, Lipinski, and Sulu were much more efficient than Jim had expected. He had an inkling that they just didn't want him to do any heavy lifting, especially since he still had no shoes, so they worked twice as faster as they would've normally, which was just plain silly. Jim was fine – feeling a little bruised, of course, but it wasn't anything he could handle. He'd had worse.

Through the entire process, Jim was unusually distracted – his focus never stayed at one place for long – and his brow was crinkled from the perpetual frowning expression on his face. Sulu and Scotty both recognized the signs: Jim was getting antsy and impatient, but they had no idea why. They had thought that it was because Jim wanted to check on Joanna, but when they beamed back up to the Enterprise, Jim was already on the move with apparently, no intention on seeking out Joanna or Bones.

They must have made quite a sight: Sulu with his bare chest and his toned abs (he was Jim's normal sparring partner after all) and Jim was still wearing his swim trunks and no shoes with spots of red peeking out through the gold cloth. He was covered in soot and grime and definitely looked as though he had been involved in an explosion.

Jim immediately waved off his concerned crew and briskly started to walk out of the transporter room.

"Where are you going, Kirk?" Sulu shouted after him.

"Things to do, people to see," Jim replied absentmindedly. "Run interference on Bones for me, will ya?"

Sulu and Scotty shared a worried look. They could only imagine how McCoy was right now. How the hell were they going to keep McCoy away from whatever the hell Jim was going to do?

"Oh," Jim suddenly said, jolting them all in surprise. "And for all that is good and holy, someone find me some shoes!"

About an hour later, Jim was still sitting in his ready room, wearing a new and clean uniform. He was leaning back in his chair with his now shoe-covered feet propped up on the table. His hands were folded on his stomach. Though there were still bruises and cuts on his face, Jim was the epitome of smugness.

After Jim dug around a little bit on his own on Trask and all that he was involved with, he had called Pike to tell him what happened. And now, Pike was on screen before him with an expression of disbelief and exasperation.

"Just to clarify, though you were supposed to be docked in Georgia for repairs - which, by the way, means that there's no need to beam down - you still found yourself caught up with a well-known mafia group that has been causing problems for Starfleet for the last five years," restated Pike.

"And proceeded to take them out," grinned Jim, "Wearing nothing but swim trunks."

Pike pinched the bridge of his nose for a brief second to gather some semblance of calm before looking back up at Jim. "And you also brought back Arnold Trask. The man that has been selling arms to terrorists since the Nero incident."

"Yep. And since Trask is notorious in working alone, his whole entire operation collapses without him. So technically, I took down a mafia and a major arms dealer in nothing but swim trunks." Jim smirked. "You're a little impressed with me, aren't you? Admit it, Pike. I'm awesome."

Pike rolled his eyes. "You stole a motorbike, blew up and entire warehouse..."

"Who told you about the motorbike? It was Spock, wasn't it? That tattletale," Jim interrupted with a pout, though Pike paid no attention to him and kept going.

"Not the mention all the legal ramifications because you went off the grid and exploded places on a whim. I wouldn't call that 'awesome', Jim."

Jim shrugged. "I like explosions. You know that. Besides, I got the job done."

"What job? You weren't assigned any!"

"But I did solve two major problems for Starfleet, didn't I?" Jim's eyes sparkled. He just knew that he was going to get recognized for his deeds, despite everything being off the books.

Pike sighed. "Starfleet's going to give you a medal."

"No fucking way!" Jim laughed. It slipped out before Jim had a chance to stop his mouth from running.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it get to your head, Jim. I expect a written report by tonight."

A trace of steel entered Jim's light-heart expressions. "Can you wait until tomorrow?" he asked innocently.

Pike's eyes narrowed. "What are you going to do?"

"There's something I need to take care of."

"And what's that?"

Jim shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant. "I gotta fulfill my duties as godfather."

Pike nodded, knowing full well Jim's relation to Joanna McCoy. That little girl saved more of Jim than anyone could ever imagine. After the shit that happened on and after Tarsus, Jim had needed to relearn what innocence was. Joanna represented a world untouched by the corruptness of human life – a purity that Jim had long ago forgotten before her, which meant that Jim would bring hell to its knees if it meant protecting her.

"Fine. Turn in the report whenever you're done," Pike said. He gave Jim a warm smile – the one that he knew made Jim's heart flutter from parental love that he never had before. "Good work, Jim."

The screen zipped black before Jim had a chance to make a fool of himself stuttering out a thanks. Pike knew that Jim didn't do well with emotions because, well, Jim was an emotionally backwards child, so out of kindness, Pike hung up so that Jim didn't have to respond.

Jim didn't linger long. He left his PADD lying on the table when he left the ready room. The moment he stepped onto the Bridge, Chekov came up to him with his phaser and its holster. The young man had dark look on his face – it was quite similar to the one that Jim had on his.

With just a nod as thanks, Jim holstered his phaser and was already moving towards the turbolift. Wordlessly, Sulu and Spock followed him. Both were armed as well.

Once in the turbolift, Jim said into the tense atmosphere, "You track them down?"

"Yes, Captain. Mr. Scott already has the coordinates inputted into the transported," Spock responded, his tone just as monotone and aloof as Jim's.

"Are they expecting us?"

"No, I do not believe so."

A feral grin spread across Jim's face. "Good."

The Treadways were never going to know what hit them. Not until it was far too late.

The chatter in the lobby of the prestigious, glamorous hotel suddenly fell reticent as eyes noticed the three men who walked up to the front desk. Though there wasn't anything ostentatious about the Starfleet uniforms that they were wearing, it wasn't everyday that an armed Captain James T. Kirk, Commander Spock, and Lieutenant Sulu walked through the doors of a hotel located in downtown Savannah, Georgia.

Stopping by the desk, Jim gave the concierge a brilliant and dazzling smile. "Hello, how are you this fine day?" he said, his bright blue eyes beckoning. He couldn't help it – being flirtatious was his default setting.

She gave Jim a shy smile back and tucked her long hair behind her ear. "How may I help you, Captain Kirk?"

"I'd like to know the room number for a Mr. Clay Treadway."

She gave Jim a slight frown. "I'm sorry, Captain, I don't think I can give out that information."

Jim glanced quickly at her name badge as he leaned in a little more, letting his handsome face do all the work. "Pretty please with a cherry on top, Felicia?"

Felicia giggled and quickly typed into the database. "Mr. Treadway is in room 2138. Will you need a key, Captain?"

"No, the room number is enough. Thank you, Felicia. I appreciate it. Oh, and can you keep this our little secret?"

She nodded, smiling.

"Thanks!" Jim gave her a little wave before he walked off with Spock and Sulu following him.

People stared until they disappeared around the corner to board the elevator.

A few minutes later, Jim was knocking on the door to room 2138.

"Who is it?" came a muffled male voice.

"Hotel manager," Jim lied.

The door burst open as Clay Treadway poked his head through, snarling, "What do you want?!"

Jim smiled, coldness rolling off him. "I'd like to have a little chat with you, Mr. Treadway. May I come in?"

Treadway – a handsome man with slightly graying hair – swallowed harshly as he realized who it was that stood before him. His faced paled as he numbly nodded. "Y-yes, of course. Come in, Captain Kirk."

"Thank you," Jim said, gracefully sliding past Treadway to saunter into his hotel room.

It was a nice, large one-bedroom suite with a living room and a kitchen. Though plain, there was an elegance to the monotone-colored theme.

Jim didn't really wait for Treadway to offer him a seat and sat down in the armchair closest to the windows. He faced the entirety of the room with his back to the walls. Crossing his legs, Jim straightened his back and placed his hands on the arm rests. Spock and Sulu came around to stand at guard behind him; both had stoic, stone expressions and one hand resting near their phaser.

"Clay, honey, who is it?" came Jocelyn's high-pitched voice. She walked into the living room, her hands in motion of putting in an earring. When she saw Jim, she instantly froze, fear touching her eyes.

"Hello, Jocelyn. Long time no see," Jim greeted serenely.

Jocelyn nodded nervously as she moved closer to her husband, hiding slightly behind him. "Long time no see, James. What're you doin' here?"

"I'm here to speak to your husband about the under table dealings he's been doing."

Seeing his wife cowered, Treadway found more gusto to throw at Jim. He lifted his chin in defiance. "What's it to you?"

Jim shrugged. "Nothing much. I'm here to give you a warning. An ultimatum, if you will. I know everything, Treadway, and you're going to stop it all. I don't care if you lose millions doing it, but you're going to stop and cut off all ties to anything that is even remotely off the books."

"You goin' to make me? You who brought your dogs in to protect you," snarled Treadway. "What're you gonna do to make me?"

"Don't get me wrong, Mr. Treadway. They are not here to protect me. They are here to protect you. Do get the distinction right."

"Yeah? What the hell can you do to me?"

Jim didn't move, but his smiling expressions became more feral. "With your line of work, I'm sure you've heard of a branch of the Russian mafia, called the Bratva? I'm the one that took them all out, and I did that when I was twenty-one. What do you think I'm capable of now?"

With fear freezing his insides, Treadway became reticent.

Jim continued when he knew that he had rendered Treadway speechless. The cordial tone that Jim had started out with was quickly dissipating. "Because of your shady dealings, I saw my best friend get struck down and your daughter get kidnapped all in the same breath. I even thought that Leonard was dead until after I had saved your daughter." He refused to use 'Bones' in front of these people, even if 'Leonard' felt so foreign on his tongue.

Anger sparked as he continued, but it was subdued – barely contained. "And then I find out that you two knew that there was going to be an imminent attack on you so you pawn off Joanna to McCoy while you hide in this nice, fancy hotel, safe and sound. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

Jim leaned forward, a snarl clear on his face. "It infuriates me." He took a deep breath to steady himself. When he spoke again, his tone was slightly calmer, though it definitely didn't end calmly. "I told you that my friends are here to protect you. I want you to know that they're here to protect you from me. And trust me when I say this: it is taking almost all of my willpower to not get up from this chair and rip your fucking face off."

Treadway and Jocelyn visibly flinched.

"Now, here's what I don't know: why the hell did you leave Joanna behind and not run with her? Surely, you knew that she could be held as leverage or for ransom."

"I knew that Leonard could keep her safe. And if not him, you could. She was going to be safe on the Enterprise," Jocelyn responded shakily.

"And you didn't think to tell us that she was in danger?" The anger was quickly rising in Jim's voice again. "We could've prepared better if you told us! She never would have been taken in the first place!"

"I didn't think that you would leave the ship!" Jocelyn wailed.

"I wouldn't have let her leave the ship if you had fucking told me!" Jim shouted back, rising slightly in the chair, only to have Spock's steady hand push him back down. Jim closed his eyes and exhaled, forcibly calming himself.

"You know what, that's not the fucking point anymore. This is what's going to happen: Leonard is going to get full custody of Joanna. Joanna can choose if she wants to continue to live with you when Leonard isn't on leave, and if she does, you better clean up your act. Shit like this is never going to happen again, do you understand me? If it does and Joanna or Leonard is ever put in danger again, I don't give a damn if Starfleet boots me or if Leonard never speaks to me again, but I swear, I will come for you, and it won't end well. I will spend every second making you suffer. Do you understand me?"

Both nodded their heads vigorously, clutching each other like their lives depended on it. Their lives probably did, seeing how they were dealing with a livid Jim Kirk.

"Good." All of a sudden, Jim was full of decorum, like he had just finished dealing with a client. "Mr. Treadway, I expect to hear back from your regarding your business plans within two days. I will personally come to check things out before I decide to release Joanna back into your care."

Jim rose, dusting off his pants and strolled casually to the door. Spock and Sulu were right behind him. "It was nice speaking with you."

He paused right before he left. "Oh, and Mr. Treadway? I am very serious about my threats. If you still don't believe me, ask any of your contacts about me. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to break things off with you if you tell them that I'm not pleased about your transactions with them."

Jim smiled – that same fake smile that froze a person's soul from the inside out. "Have a good day. I expect to hear from you soon." And he calmly shut the door in Treadway's face.

Sulu shivered beside Jim as they walked down the hallway. "You can be damn terrifying when you're angry, Kirk."

Jim shrugged, his body language completely relaxed now that he was out of the room. It was like a switch had been flipped – Jim was an entirely different man than he was literally a few seconds ago. Not for the first time, Sulu could see how Jim became one of Starfleet's best undercover agent.

"You said that you took down the Bratva mafia, Jim?" asked Spock, his natural curiosity coming out.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," Sulu said. "It was a whole big deal because they were untouchable for hundreds of years. You were involved in that?"

"In a way," Jim replied. He pressed the button to the elevator.

"Care to elaborate?"

"It's classified. The only thing I can tell you is that it was the first mission that Komack sent me on. It was my trial run."

The elevator dinged open. Jim, Spock, and Sulu piled in quickly, leaving Jim to press the button for the ground floor.

"And Admiral Komack kept you under his tight grasp for the five or so years since then," Spock commented. "Which means that you were more involved than 'in a way' as you say. Am I correct?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that," Jim replied. He pulled out his communicator and called Scotty. "Scotty, you have a lock on us, right? Beam us up."

"Yes, sir. Give me two minutes," came Scotty's reply.

"I thought we were going to wait until we hit the lobby," Sulu mentioned.

"We made too much of a scene when we got here. I'm not in the mood to deal with the ogling eyes."

"Yeah? I'm sure that concierge wants to see you again."

Jim shrugged. "I can't help it if people love me more than you, Sulu," he grinned lightly.

The transporter lights whirled around them, swallowing any indignant response that Sulu might have had.

By the time the elevator reached the lobby, it was empty, much to the disappointment of the small throng of young women who had gathered by the entrance, just waiting for a glimpse of the famous and dashing Captain Kirk.

Of course, the real Captain Kirk just wanted to go back home and hug a certain nine-year-old. And maybe a nap. Definitely a nap.

The ship was bustling when Jim, Spock, and Sulu beamed back up. People were scrambling around and the chatter was louder than usual. Chekov and Uhura were nowhere to be seen while Scotty spent the whole two minutes that they were back shouting at some poor Ensign.

Jim immediately stepped in, jumping off the transporter pad. "What the hell is going on, Scotty?!" he shouted. "And the rest of you, calm the hell down!"

Almost instantaneously, all men within the vicinity snapped to attention and at the sight of the majority of their Command crew before them, they started to shift nervously around.

"Er. Don't get upset, Jim," Scotty said into the silence.

Jim took a few steps closer to the Engineer, his expressions hard. "What. Happened."

"Well, Nurse Chapel was treatin' Trask and tha rest of tha men and 'eard him curse Treadway. She recognized tha name and mentioned it to McCoy, just outta curiosity."

Jim didn't need to be a genius to know what happened. Bones had probably snapped at the mention of his ex-wife's husband. He was moving towards the turbolift before his brain caught up to his body. Scotty, Sulu, and Spock followed him like shadows. "Shit. Where's Joanna?"

"Chekov's got 'er in SickBay," Scotty responded.

"And where's Bones?"

"Uhura's holdin' him in your quarters."

That almost made Jim break his stride. "My room? Why?"

Scotty shrugged. "It was closest? Ah don't know."

"The Brig is closer to Uhura's quarters…" Jim said slowly.

"She didn't wan' him to mess it up!"

"So she brought him to mine?"

"You did teach 'im how to fight."

Jim sighed. "Fine. Sulu, go keep Chekov and Joanna company. Spock, you have the conn. Work with Scotty and play damage control. I'm not letting Bones get in trouble just because he's human. I'll send Uhura your way too. You might need her help."

"Understood," Spock replied. "Are you sure you will not need assistance with Dr. McCoy? If he is emotionally compromised, your safety may be in jeopardy."

Jim gave him a tight, wary smile even as he pressed the button in the turbolift for the deck to his quarters. "You really think so?" he asked innocently as the door closed.

Spock thought back to when Jim confronted Komack, took down Kalians, and threatened Clay Treadway and his wife. Unwittingly, Spock shivered slightly.

Sometimes, Spock forgot that Jim was a lethal weapon – one that Starfleet loved to utilize for the most dangerous of missions.

And when McCoy was involved? Nothing riled Jim up more.

The low murmur of voices came to a complete stop as Jim made his way forward. Ensigns nervously glanced at each other. Rumors of what had happened down on the surface had already reached their ears. The crew of the Enterprise was more than aware of how protective Jim was towards his crew, and even more so when it came to Dr. McCoy. Everyone knew that there was nothing Jim wouldn't do to keep McCoy safe, and that went doubly for Joanna. Not everyone had met the McCoy's little girl, but word spread quickly about how much Jim adored her.

With his reputation, the crew knew that Jim would bring hell down to earth if anything ever happened to McCoy or his daughter. And now that Jim was approaching the very men who had kidnapped Joanna and hurt McCoy? Quite frankly, they were scared that the prisoners wouldn't survive the encounter. And after what McCoy had done to Trask? They weren't sure if they were going to be able to keep their jobs if another one of their commanding officers rails on the prisoners that they were supposed to be keeping safe.

An Ensign intercepted Jim before he reached the prisons. "Sir, I'm sorry, but after what Dr. McCoy did, we have been forbidden to allow anyone near the prisoners. Even you, sir."

Jim waved him off, his cold, blue eyes already focused on Trask's bruised face. "Don't worry, Ensign Lowell. I just want to talk to him."

Ensign Lowell hesitated. "Sir, I was given explicit orders."

Slowly, Jim turned his cold gaze onto Lowell. The Ensign felt his insides freeze, as if he had been dunked into negative twenty degree waters. Seeing the fear flicker on Lowell's expressions, Jim let his hard look soften slightly. "If it makes you feel better, Lowell, I can give you my weapon."

"Honestly, sir, you and I both know that you don't need a weapon to be lethal."

Jim gave Lowell a tight smile that made the Ensign very nervous. "That's exactly what I'm counting on," he said, turning his attention back onto Trask who shifted a bit anxiously under Jim's gaze.

Swallowing harshly, Lowell stepped aside to let Jim pass. Deliberately, Jim slowly stepped towards Trask, each step invoking new fear in the prisoners. He stopped at the glass, inches away.

"Do you know who I am?" Jim asked Trask lowly.

Trask pulled on the last strands of bravado that he had. "You think me stupid? I'm trapped on your goddamn ship, Captain Kirk." He spat out Jim's name like a curse.

Jim closed another inch. "No, I'm asking if you know who I really am." His tone was low and threatening.

Trask jutted out his chin. "And who are you?"

"You've heard whispers of me in the underground from where you're from. I'm the one that everyone fears: the shadows that haunt and nip at your heels. In your world, I am known as Dante's Inferno, the one who brings hell to earth."

Almost immediately, Trask's face pales. "Dante's Inferno? He's just a legend," he gasped.

"Legends are borne from truths, Trask."

"You're lying. You're the fucking Captain of the Enterprise! There's no way that you were ever mucking around in the dirt with the rest of us."

"'Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the lost people,'" Jim recited. The quote from the ancient book came as easily as it did years ago. His gaze became steel as he added on an original part – one that would solidify his identity as Dante's Inferno. "And through me, hell is born."

Trask gasped and took a step back. "No…you couldn't be…!"

The prisoners gaped at Jim with sheer, utter fear, shaking so hard like a leaf in a gale. Jim was even sure that a couple of them had wet themselves. For once in his life, Jim was glad that Komack had sent him on so many missions in his past. So much to the point that he had became one of the most feared men in all of Earth.

"The Treadways are off-limits. No one shall touch them; no one shall deal with them. They are under my protection. Spread the word. If anyone should touch a single hair on their head, they will have to deal with me. And I will not be kind. There will be absolutely no mercy. Nod if you understand me."

They all quickly nodded.

"Good." Jim stepped away and waved Lowell over. He pointed at one of the quivering messes of a man. The hapless man was just a grunt – not even remotely significant in the eyes of Starfleet law; it was the only reason why Jim could do what he was about to do. "Release him."

"Sir?" frowned Lowell.

"I said: release him," Jim commanded. "I need him to send out a message."

"I don't think I'm authorized…"

"I am your Captain, Lowell. I authorize it. Release him and tell Scotty to beam him down to the warehouse." Jim's voice bore no room for argument.

Lowell nodded curtly. "Yes, sir."

"I'll leave it to you. Thank you, Lowell."

Jim didn't even spare another glance at Trask and the prisoners now that he had completed his task. Even if Treadway didn't keep his promise, Jim had ensured that no one would deal with him anymore. Joanna's safety, at least from her step-father's shady business deals, was officially guaranteed from here on out.

All that was left now was her father.

This was going to be the hardest part.

The moment the door to Jim's quarters opened, Jim could see Bones sitting on the end of his bed, his head in his hands, and Uhura standing a distance away, leaning against the wall beside the bathroom. She was relaxed, but at the same time, ready to pounce at any given moment.

Jim pressed his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms against his chest. "So I hear that you beat up some poor mafia man. Care to elaborate on that, Bones?" he asked, almost cheerfully.

Bones stiffened at Jim's voice and instantly curled up in shame.

"Thanks, Uhura. I can take it from here. Please go and help Spock. He'll fill you in."

Uhura silently nodded and like a lithe cat, she gracefully moved around the bed to leave, but she paused before McCoy. She leaned down and kissed McCoy on the cheek, patting him comfortingly on the shoulder. Wordlessly, she smiled, hoping to convey reassurance with the small gestures.

She approached Jim and noted the tenseness in his body language that was left over from him donning the persona of Dante's Inferno. "You okay?" she asked, her eyes shining with concern.

He smiled, purposely relaxing his body more. "Yeah, thanks."

She reached up and kissed Jim's cheek too. "Take care of him. And yourself."

Jim watched her leave before he let the door close behind him. Quietly, he moved to sit in his desk chair and swiveled around to look at Bones.

"Want to tell me what happened, Bones? Explain to me why you're locked up in my room when you could be spending more time with your daughter."

Bones didn't move when he answered. "Did you know that Clay was the reason why Jo got kidnapped?"

"Yes."

McCoy's head jerked up, anger glittering in his eyes. "You knew?!"

"Not at first. I figured it out when I was at the warehouse."

"Of course you did," McCoy sighed. "You're always two steps ahead of everyone."

"Not this time. But I will be from now on."

"What do you mean?"

Jim changed the subject. "How did you get past Lowell and the other guards to punch Trask in the face?"

"You taught me well, Jim."

"Which makes me curious on who brought you down. There aren't that many people onboard that can do that anymore."

"Uhura."

"Seriously? I would've thought that it was Spock."

"She got a lucky shot in."

"She doesn't have lucky shots, Bones. She aims to maim. You're lucky that you managed to escape without parts missing."

"I'm not you, Jim. You're the only one who's ever in danger of that."

"True. I'm loveable that way." Jim paused as he tilted his head, considering his friend before him. "So, have you calmed down? I'd like my room back."

The anger was back. "How are you so calm, Jim?! Jo's in danger because Clay and Joce are fucking morons!" McCoy rose to his feet. "Jo was kidnapped, shot at, and injured because of them!"

Jim was unperturbed by McCoy's reaction and started to pick at his nails. He didn't even bother looking at Bones when he spoke. "Sit down, Bones."

"She had bruises, Jim! My baby girl had bruises!"

"Sit down, Bones, before I make you."

Bones bristled. "Jim!"

"Sit. Down." Jim's voice never rose above his normal speaking volume, but there was a hardness in his words that had never been directed towards McCoy.

Out of sheer shock, McCoy sat down and suddenly, he realized that there was something different about Jim. Jim was always a touchy guy. If McCoy was upset, Jim was sure to be sitting right next to him, making sure that their shoulders were touching. The Jim before him was cold, aloof. More distant that McCoy had ever seen him.

There was something wrong, but Bones couldn't put a finger on it.

"First of all, Joanna is safe. Treadway won't be doing anything dangerous anymore," Jim said.

"How can you be sure about it?"

"I put my reputation on it."

"And that means something to me?"

"It something to the people involved. She's safe, Bones. I can promise you that. As for you, I might have to take some sort of disciplinary action for punching Trask, but I wouldn't worry about it. You should still be set to take full custody of Joanna."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, I didn't mention it? Jocelyn has agreed to give you full custody of Joanna whenever you're on leave. Joanna can continue to live with her mother if she so chooses during the times that you're on duty. Of course, if you decide to resign your commission and take care of her full time, I'll tender the paperwork today."

Oh. So that was why Jim was so distant now. He was afraid; he was preparing himself to have his heart ripped from him again. Given the choice, Jim knew that Bones was going to choose Joanna over him. Jim didn't think there was any contest: McCoy would and should pick Joanna. Jim was a damaged soul with nothing to give while Joanna was the epitome of sunshine, love, and warmth. Jim was never going to stand between McCoy and his daughter, no matter how much he wanted Bones to stay. Add on to the fact that Jim had thought that McCoy had died before his eyes just earlier today? Well, it was more than what the emotionally damaged Jim could handle.

He was going to just let McCoy walk out of his life, right here and now.

What a selfish guy, making decisions for McCoy without consulting him.

"You're an idiot, Jim. You wouldn't last a week without me."

"I lasted twenty years without you, Bones," Jim reminded him lightly.

"As tempting as that sounds, I can't just rip Jo from the life she knows. She loves Joce, for reasons that are beyond me. I won't have her hating me for pulling her away from her mother. What we have now works, and I'm not going to change it. My home is here, Jim. Don't go pushin' me away just 'cause you got scared."

As expected, Jim reacted badly to the direct bluntness of Bones' words.

Snarling, Jim snapped to his feet. "Don't make this about me. You never wanted to be in space in the first place! You're the one who gets fucking wasted on every birthday, recital, or some other shit that you couldn't be present for! I'm giving you an out. You've been getting my fucking nerves anyway. If you want to be a father, go be one for your fucking daughter and get her off my ship!"

Bones didn't rise up to the bait. He knew Jim far too well. The more afraid Jim got about losing something that he cared for, the more Jim would fight and push, shoving until he was the only one left in a place where no one could hurt him anymore.

"Jim, I'm not leaving," Bones said calmly.

"And I'm telling you to! Go be with your family!"

"I am!" Bones suddenly shouted back. Exasperation was clear in his voice now. "How many times do I have to tell you, Jim? You're family. You're my family. You're Joanna's 'Uncle Jimmy' and my brother. I'm not letting you go, despite what you think, so stop acting like an idiot, Jim. I followed you to the stars, Jim, and I'm not leaving without you."

Bones kept going without even taking a breath, barely noticing Jim falling back down into his chair with a stupefied expression. "Look, I get that you've had a long day. Joanna got kidnapped and you thought I was dead for a good hour or so. You panicked like a normal human being, but for you, that's equivalent to having a fucking panic attack. But I'm okay and you said that you've ensured Joanna's safety, so you need to calm the fuck down and stop thinking that I'm going to leave you behind like Sam or any other bastards that walked out on you. Now, I've got my shit together, thanks to you. The question now is: do you have your shit together?"

Jim's eyes were wide; those big blues were so open and vulnerable that Bones just wanted to wrap Jim into a tight blanket and hide him from the big bad world. There was true fear and grief in Jim's features. "I thought you were dead, Bones," he whispered. "I saw the men and I knew what they were going to do, but I was too far away to save you. I couldn't…I couldn't save you." He gave a shuddering gasp. "And then I left you lying there with blood on your face, but I couldn't even stop to check on you."

Bones moved forward, slightly cautiously so that he didn't scare Jim. He put both hands on Jim's shoulders, the weight grounding Jim in his chair. "Now you know how I feel whenever you throw yourself into danger. But I'm fine. I'm alive and so is Joanna. Stop throwing the drama queen fit, Jim."

It took a second, but Jim suddenly threw himself forward, hugging Bones tightly around the waist. The need for personal comfort was childish and he knew it, but he couldn't stop himself. Bones didn't help either when he hugged Jim back tightly.

A few moments later, when they were both comforted and alright, they pulled apart, feeling a little awkward at the chick-flick moment that they just had.

"I uh…" Jim started, his words trailing off.

Bones was immediately to the rescue and changed the subject entirely. "We're good now, right? Good. Let's go find Joanna. I'm sure she's wants to see you. Of course, that's if I'm allowed out now?"

"I'm sure Spock and Uhura have it handled by now. They're very good at getting people out of trouble," Jim replied, getting up now and heading towards the exit.

"They should be. Their Captain is you."

"Exactly."

The door whooshed open and the two stepped out. "Did you threaten Trask, by the way?" asked Bones.

"Yeah. Don't worry. They're too scared of me to not listen to me."

"Why is that?"

"I told you, I staked my reputation on it."

"You're going to have to elaborate more on that, Jim."

"You remember the missions that I was on during the Academy?"

"Yeah, of course. You'd disappear for weeks at a time."

"Well, I became a sort of big-shot in the underworld. Rumors spread and sooner or later, I sort of became a legend."

"And let me guess, you had some sort of cheesy-ass name that everyone is petrified of now, like the boogie-man."

"Why must you be so hurtful, Bones?"

"Wait, so I'm right? You had a codename? What was it? Boogie-man? The Invincible Man?"

"I'm not telling you. You're just going to make fun of me."

"I'll make fun of you regardless, Jim. You don't have to tell me. I'll have fun making names up. Rocket Man? The Godfather? How about the Almighty Tiberius?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, it was Dante's Inferno!"

A pause. "Like the book?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yes, like the book. Got the nickname because people started up rumors that I brought hell to earth wherever I went."

"Wow. Cheesy."

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean, that's just awful."

Jim sighed. "Jesus. You're like a dog with a bone. Pun intended."

Bones just grinned. "Dante's Inferno. You really strike fear into a man's heart with that name?"

"Hey, if it works, it works."

"Still corny, Jim."

Jim didn't get a chance to retort. They were just a few feet away from the door to the Sickbay when it suddenly burst open, revealing a fairly panicked Chekov and Sulu with an escaping Joanna.

The young girl ran smack into Jim's legs and would've fallen if Jim didn't quickly lean down and swoop her up in his arms.

"Hey there, little Princess. Whatcha doing?" he asked with a smile.

"Uncle Jimmy!" Joanna cried, tears in her eyes, "Daddy!"

Jim saw the water bubbling up and he panicked, immediately giving her to McCoy. She was absolutely wailing in Bones' arms.

"Shh, shh. What's wrong, baby girl?" soothed McCoy.

"Did Sulu and Chekov do something to hurt you?" Jim demanded. He took a threatening step towards the two. "Do you need Uncle Jimmy to hurt them back for you?"

"Wait, what?" protested Sulu, raising his hands in surrender. "We didn't do anything! She just wanted the two of you! You guys disappeared for hours and she was getting worried."

Jim blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah, you jackass," Sulu snapped, clearly offended, but he was still more amused than anything.

Jim smacked Sulu in the back of the head. "Language," he admonished. "You hear from Spock and Uhura?"

Chekov nodded. "Yes, sir. He said zat Doctor McCoy is cleared, but uh…you vill owe Admiral Pike."

"Godda-arn. I hate owing Pike. He's going to make me do something ridiculous, like clean his attic for him."

"He did mention something like that," Sulu said. He peered closely at McCoy rubbing the back of Joanna's back. "He okay?"

"Yeah," Jim said with a small smile. "He's good now."

Sulu stared at Jim. "How about you?"

Jim frowned. "Why do you ask that? I'm fine."

"We're not idiots, Kirk. You okay?"

Jim paused, planning to deny everything, but he knew that his friends could see right through him. There was no point in lying. At least they weren't prying like they used to. Or maybe they could see Jim handling things in a healthier manner. Either or, Jim didn't feel like putting up a front anymore.

He looked back at Bones and Joanna and allowed the warm fuzzy feelings replace the anxious fear that had been sitting at the bottom of his stomach since the whole entire fiasco started. "Yeah, I'm good too."

"Oh, Uncle Jimmy?" teased McCoy, "Jo here wants to say something to you."

"Yeah? What's up, Princess?" Jim asked, coming up closer to her.

"Thank you for saving me and my daddy, Uncle Jimmy," she said with a sincere smile, tear tracks still on her little cheeks. But at least she wasn't crying anymore.

Jim reached out to grasp her small hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed her hand gently. "Always and forever, little Princess. Always and forever."

She reached her small arms up and Jim willingly picked her up, hugging her tightly against his chest. "Come on, Princess. Let's go see the stars."

He walked off without another word with McCoy right by his side. Sulu and Chekov followed closely. They had already settled in the observation deck – Jim was sitting between McCoy and Sulu with Joanna in his lap – when Spock, Uhura, and Scotty joined them. Chekov was the only one who moved (he waved) when they arrived, but they were sure that the rest had heard them approach and just chose not to react to their arrival.

They sat down too, all in a row. Chekov next to Sulu, Scotty next to Chekov; Spock took the other side beside McCoy and Uhura sat next to him. Various conversations started – one was about Jim's underworld name, another was about teasing McCoy on how Uhura so easily took him down. Slowly though, as time passed, the chatter trickled down to a comfortable silence as Joanna fell asleep, nestled warmly in her Uncle Jimmy's arms and lap.

Minutes later, McCoy felt a weight against his left shoulder and glanced over. Jim had fallen asleep, his head leaning on McCoy's shoulder. Worry rushed through McCoy a little. Jim never slept in front of others, especially not in an open area like the observation deck. It was a trust issue Jim had – it had taken years for Jim to actually sleep naturally and deeply before McCoy. And here he was, sound asleep against McCoy.

For a minute, McCoy thought it was because Jim had had an injury and finally succumbed to it. The alarm must have shown on his face because a second later, Spock was whispering into his right ear.

"Doctor, Jim has been awake for more than forty-nine hours now and after the events of today, I am not surprised that he has fallen asleep here. Do not worry. Mr. Scott and Mr. Sulu have assured me that Jim was uninjured," Spock said quietly. "Let him rest."

That attracted the rest of the Command crew's attention. Sulu leaned over, staring. "I don't think I've ever seen Kirk asleep before." His voice was no louder than a whisper.

"I'm sure you have, Sulu," replied Uhura, her volume matching Sulu's.

"No, seriously. Think about it. The only time we've ever seen Kirk sleeping is when he's drugged up or just straight up unconscious. I don't think we've ever seen him fall asleep willingly."

They all thought about it. "He is right," Chekov said with wonder.

Scotty nodded. "Yeh, the laddie might be onto something."

And they all smiled fondly. Finally, Jim trusted them. There was no question that Jim had always trusted them with his life, but he didn't hold that quite as precious as his heart. Now? He trusted his friends enough to actually be at his most vulnerable before them. It was a testament of Jim finally feeling as though he truly belonged in this small functionally dysfunctional family.

McCoy shifted to let Jim rest better on his shoulder. With a warm smile, he gazed at the two most important people in his life and poured all his feelings into his next words.

"Thanks for everything, ya ingenious idiot. Love ya, too."

Chapter Text

XV

Fake it 'til You Make it

Part 1

If Jim had to name his best feature, it would be his bright blue eyes that, under the right light, twinkled like the stars he loved so much. It wasn't just because he knew that he could charm anyone with them – and he meant anyone: women, men, non-human beings, and whoever else that breathed and lived – Jim took great pride in his ability to observe his surroundings, read into people's body language, and his more than perfect vision. It wasn't even just pride. For Jim, being able to see was a life or death matter. He never would have made it through his childhood if he couldn't see where the beer bottles were going to land; he never would have made it past the first wave of executions on Tarsus IV if he hadn't seen it coming. More importantly, Jim couldn't have been able to come onboard the Enterprise, let alone become her Captain, if his eyes didn't see the stars that led him to where he was now.

Like any normal living being, Jim relied heavily on his sight, and if he ever lost it? Well, it would be absolutely devastating.

"I don't understand why the hell I had to follow you down here," grouched Bones as he trudged through a thick jungle of exotic plants that towered over even Spock's head.

Jim rolled his eyes, carefully and subtly making a clearer and clean path for his best friend. Bones was not made for tropical, humid regions where half the foliage had spikes along its leaves or spat out weird goop. Five minutes into landing, Bones had already cut his right hand on a plant when he lost his footing.

"You're the one who opted in, Bones," Jim reminded with a sigh. He held up a large leaf so that Bones could shuffle under it without whacking his head.

"Like I'm gonna let you come down alone to a foreign planet to do scientific research on their stupid plants."

"I'm not alone. Spock, Sulu, and an entire science team beamed down with me."

"And if you touch a plant and suddenly swell up like a balloon? You think they're equipped to stop your throat from closing up?"

"I'm sure they can. Most of them are certified in emergency triage. Even Sulu is." Jim frowned. "I feel like the majority of the ship is certified now. Did you know that Scotty got certified too? He doesn't even leave Engineering all that much."

Now it was Bones' turn to roll his eyes. "Why do you think that is, Jim?"

Jim shrugged. "I've got an ambitious crew who want to avoid you and the menace that is Sickbay as much as me?"

"It's because they have a moronic Captain that has the preservation instincts of a gnat."

"Hey! When did I downgrade from mayfly to a gnat?"

"After you went charging into a warehouse full of angry mobsters in just swim trunks, you idiot."

Jim pouted, pushing through another batch of leaves. "I think I warrant a mayfly at least, Bones."

He glanced ahead, keeping an eye on Spock, Sulu, and three other Science Officers gather around a particular tree with matching concentrated and fascinated expressions. It almost made Jim burst out laughing. Nerds, the lot of them, and for once, he wasn't a part of it, secret or not. He had only beamed down to explore and stretch his legs a bit; his need for adventure was flaring.

The jungle was full of bright, vibrant colors. Unlike Earth, the leaves of most plants was a magenta pink, splashed with dark green spots, but there were color nuances between each species. Some were long and tall, like a stalk of corn, and striped orange. Others held girth and had blue and lime green zigzags. The mesh of colors was almost disorienting and breathtaking at the same time.

On top of that, each plant had evolved to form some sort of offensive mechanism as defense. From what Jim had gathered from watching the Science team study each new plant, some secreted poisons - Jim had quickly figured out which ones those were and kept both him and Bones as far away as possible - while others did some venus flytrap move and consumed anything that came close. Sulu even got some sort of mucous-like liquid spat at him by a plant. Luckily, Spock had pulled the pilot into safety, because it turned out to be an acid that ate through the undergrowth and ground to form a shallow hole.

"I'll reinstate you to the level of a mayfly if you manage to get through the next two missions without a scratch," Bones returned.

Jim turned around, eyeing the cut on Bones' that still remained untreated. "You realize the irony in your statement, right, Bones?"

"It's just a scratch, Jim. Relax. There's no need to patch it up now."

Jim grinned, finding the whole thing amusing. "Then can we put money on that?"

Bones rolled his eyes. "You have a problem, you know that?"

"I've never seen you turn down a bet before, Bones. What does that say about you?"

"That I've been friends with you far too long." Bones raised a hand that Jim readily shook. "100 credits."

"Done." Jim patted Bones on the back and started to trudge forward. "Don't tell Spock. He'd just scold me again."

"You're afraid of the hobgoblin?"

"His lectures and rants are worse than yours, Bones."

"How so?"

"You just use metaphors and go round and round in circles. Most of the time, I can just ignore you until you get to your point, but Spock? He just logics me into submission."

"First of all, you in submission? And second, 'logics'? What are you, four-years-old?"

"I'm surprised that you completely skipped over the part where I said that I ignored you half the time," Jim chuckled, ducking low to avoid a long leaf in his path.

Bones was not as quick to notice and ran smack into it, swearing up a storm as he did. Jim's blue eyes danced as he laughed with mirth. That was until Bones pointed at something behind him with confusion and slight alarm in his expressions.

Jim turned quickly, his defenses rising, but he wasn't quite fast enough. All he saw was a six-foot plant loom over him and Bones before the thing spat out a thick, clear fluid at them.

Instinctively, Jim shifted so that the majority of his body shielded Bones, just as Bones reached for him to pull him away. Jim barely felt Bones' hand on his right shoulder before an intense burning sensation consumed him.

He bent over, hissing as he tried to rub out the fluid from his eyes.

Distantly, he heard Bones cursing, "Fuck, this shit burns!" and he instantly realized that whatever the fluid was, it had gotten into Bones' cut. And based on what he knew about the plants on this planet, there was a very high chance that it was poison that was now racing through Bones' blood.

Alarm swept through Jim. Even if he couldn't see Bones at the moment, he could picture the two inch laceration on the doctor's hand - the one that had grabbed for Jim. Blinking through the haze in his vision without much avail, Jim ripped off a section of his shirt and grabbed McCoy, pulling him closer. Without a moment's hesitation, he tied the piece of cloth around McCoy's forearm like a tourniquet and forced McCoy's arm above his head.

"Captain, Doctor!" came Spock's shouts. The team must've heard the commotion and came rushing back.

Jim felt hands over him and he pushed them aside, still keeping Bones' arm raised. "Tend to Bones. It got onto his bloodstream!"

Spock and the rest of the Science team descended on McCoy like a swarm of locusts while Sulu pulled Jim away.

"You okay, Kirk?" Sulu asked, peering into Jim's face. His eyes were bloodshot red. Alarmed, Sulu reached out and started to examine Jim eyes, gently prying his eyelids apart. "Did it get into your eyes?"

"How's Bones?" Jim questioned in return, wincing as Sulu's probing fingers touched his sensitive skin.

"I don't know." Sulu turned back around to glance at McCoy who was vehemently arguing against Spock, telling him that he needed to check on Jim even while his hand was angrily red.

The two seriously were two peas in a pod, but the danger was still present and evidently clear. All the plants here had different defensive and offensive mechanisms - they couldn't treat either Jim or McCoy until they knew what they had been affected with.

Returning his attention back to Jim, Sulu spoke quickly and urgently. "Kirk, this is important. Do you know what plant spat at this stuff at you?"

"I may be a genius, but even I didn't memorize all the plants on this bloody planet!" he snapped back.

"Describe it then! You have a near-eidetic memory!"

Jim closed his eyes, shifting through his most recent memories until he had a full picture of the foliage. "It was tall, about six-feet. Bright, olive green with neon orange spots. It looked like a venus flytrap with a giant bulb on its head."

Sulu relaxed, the tenseness of his body bleeding away. When Jim felt it through Sulu's hands on his arms, his own worry curtailed.

"It's not poison, is it?" he asked anyway, just for confirmation.

"It's a paralytic. Annoying, but not life-threatening."

Jim let out a huff of relief, steadfastly ignoring twinges of pain that was starting to rear up within him. "Well, you better tell Spock and Bones before someone punches the other one out."

At that, Sulu finally tuned into McCoy and Spock's heated conversation (Jim had been keeping track from the very beginning - how he was able to multitask like he did was beyond Sulu, but hey, he wasn't exactly a genius like Kirk). Spock was trying to insist that McCoy let him examine him while McCoy was snapping back, saying that he was fine. Both were clearly exasperated by each other, which was quite something considering Spock's Vulcan heritage.

"Hey! There's no need to take each other's throats out!" Sulu shouted, immediately stomping over. "Kirk just told me what plant it was. It's Dionaea chikorita. It's just a paralytic. He'll be fine. We'll probably still need to get back on board to counter its effects."

"See! I told you that I was fine!" growled McCoy. "Where's Jim? Is he alright?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Sulu responded, turning around to point at Jim.

Only, he wasn't standing where he was supposed to be.

Jim had fallen, lying spread out on the ground among the dirt and leaves, convulsing and jerking with small grunting sounds.

"Jim!" McCoy called out, rushing forward and landing heavily on his knees before Jim. He quickly and carefully rotated Jim onto his side to prevent him from choking on his own vomit.

"Mister Sulu, you said that the plant was not poisonous!" Spock barked out, already in the midst of pulling out his communicator for a beam-up.

"It's not!" protested Sulu. "I'm sure of it!"

"The damn idiot's allergic!" McCoy yelled. "Get us back to the Enterprise."

Jim suddenly stilled, going completely slack. The sudden lack of sounds was deafening.

"NOW!" McCoy screamed.

Lights swirled around them, leaving nothing behind.

The incessant, irritating beeping of the monitors was what woke Jim up. He was surrounded in darkness, but he assumed that had to do with the bandage he felt wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.

He sat up, groaning and holding his head as the entire world spun nauseatingly. His entire body ached and throbbed, like he had run three marathons in a row. All his muscles felt tight and broken at the same time, as if he was a piece of elastic that had been stretched out completely until it had snapped.

Instantly, Jim knew what had happened.

"Ah, damn. Fucking seizures…hate them the most," he groaned out, seemingly to no one. But despite not being able to see and not sensing anyone's presence, he knew that Bones was sitting right next to him. "Did I have an allergic reaction again?"

"Yeah, you idiot," came Bones' voice. As Jim expected, he was right beside him based on the proximity of Bones' words. "Some of the plant's spit got into your eyes and you had a reaction to it. Damn stuff was paralyzing. I still can't feel my right hand. M'Benga had to do most of the treatment for you."

"Wait, you can't feel your hand?" Jim asked, concern bleeding through his voice.

"It could've been worse. If you didn't tie my arm like you did, it would've been my entire arm. So thanks for that. But relax, Jim. It's only temporary. Spock's working on an antidote."

"If it's temporary, why is Spock working on an antidote?"

"Have you ever lost feeling in your dominant hand?"

Jim opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off.

"Don't answer that," McCoy said quickly. "I don't want to hear another one of your crazy stories. It's just going to give me an ulcer. The point is, if the hobgoblin can give me my hand back sooner, I'll take it."

Jim couldn't help himself and raised an eyebrow, wiggling it suggestively. "Do I need to introduce you to some babe next time we go to a bar?"

"Head out of the gutter, Jim." But there was no heat in his words. There was an edge to it that made Jim tilt his head curiously. He couldn't quite figure out what the twinge was, so he waited patiently for Bones to speak again. When he didn't, Jim gently prompted him.

"Bones?" he asked quietly.

"I'm a doctor, Jim. A surgeon by trade, remember?" Bones said softly.

Jim immediately understood. Bones had the steadiest hands – they were the only ones that Jim whole-heartedly trusted. Bones' hands were who he was just as Jim's blue eyes defined him. As a doctor – as a surgeon, losing feeling in his dominant hand was one of Bones' deepest, darkest fears that he had hoped would never come to pass. And here he was, living it.

So Jim did the only thing he could do and flop back on his pillows, huffing in disbelief. "Please, you're just upset that you'll have to do some extra work now to compensate. It's only temporary, right? No big deal. Besides, you're ambidextrous, aren't you?"

The reminder that things were temporary was just what Bones needed. And the fact that Jim didn't seem to take the situation seriously made everything seem…well, less dire.

Bones snorted. "Not everyone's like you, Jim."

"But you are. Don't lie. You're the same as me: you like to keep everyone guessing."

"How do you even know that I am? You've never seen me write or do anything with my left hand before."

"You have calluses on your left hand; your grip is just as strong as your right. And as you've said before, you're a surgeon. You're trained to use both hands. Need I go on?"

There was a moment of pause. "You're a freak of nature, you know that, Jim?"

"And you're surprised? I thought you knew me better than that, Bones. I'm hurt."

Bones chuckled. "I wasn't surprised. Just stating a fact, Jim."

"I don't know whether or not I should be upset at you for that."

"Well, let me know when you make up your mind."

"I'll let you know when you get this bandage off me already. It's itchy."

"You're such a child." But Jim heard him get up anyway and reach over. If it was anyone else, Jim's instincts probably would have forced him to attack the nearest person, seeing how his vision was still obscured, but Jim felt safe in Bones' hands. (Hand, if Jim wanted to be accurate at the moment.)

"So, how long was I out anyway?" Jim asked as the gauze started getting peeled away.

"Just a few hours."

"Why did you bandage my eyes?"

"We had to clean out every speck of that plant paralytic that got on you or it'd just set off another reaction. Some of it got into your eyes, which you failed to mention when we were on-planet." There was a touch of disapproval in Bones' words now, but Jim easily shrugged it off. "M'Benga had to go in and make sure that everything was clean."

Jim stilled. He didn't know why he didn't register the fact that M'Benga did his procedure back when Bones mentioned it earlier. Now that he was fully aware of it, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was a well-known fact that Jim hated doctors, hospitals, and anything even remotely related to medicine. And on top of that, he had enough trust issues to break down an entire school of psychologists.

"Relax, Jim," Bones said above him. "I trust M'Benga. He's a good doctor. And I was there for every second of it. If you don't trust him, trust me."

"Of course I trust you, Bones," Jim replied softly, but his tone was a bit aloof. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach and dread was starting to poke its head around the corner. He knew this feeling – he was intimately aware of it. What the hell was going to go wrong now?!

The last strand of the bandage came away. "There," said Bones, turning to grab an ophthalmoscope. "Just sit tight, Jim. I need to check your eyes one last time before I let you go."

When he swiveled back around, he saw Jim sitting rim-rod straight on the Biobed. His entire posture was tense; his muscles so tight that it almost looked like they were seconds from cramping. There was sheer panic in Jim's expressions. His wide, blue eyes stared straight ahead at nothing, or so it seemed like. Fear was written all over Jim's body language: he was practically screaming it.

McCoy felt alarm running through him, shocking him to his feet as if he was just struck with lightning. He had never seen Jim this terrified before. And that included seeing Jim seconds from being kicked out of the Academy for fighting, Nero, reliving Tarsus and his childhood, and even facing his ex-stepfather in person.

This…this sheer and utter terror was something that McCoy had never thought Jim was capable of.

And it scared the shit out of him.

"Jim, what's wrong?!" Bones frantically asked, hand already reaching out for his best friend. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

Jim swallowed hard, his eyes shifting restlessly, as if they were unable to settle on something. When he spoke, his words were barely above a whisper. "Bones…I can't see," he breathed.

McCoy froze. He wasn't even sure that he heard right. "What?"

One of Jim's hands lunged out, grabbing McCoy's left hand (the one that could feel at the moment), and tightly clutching it like his life depended on it.

"I can't see!"

For the next three hours, Jim sat through a battery of exams. Through the entirety, Jim remained stone-faced and silent. It was the most quiet anyone had ever seen Jim before. He was also compliant, almost like he was just a doll being manipulated by a puppeteer.

It just seemed wrong, and no one could blame him.

Jim was blind, but it was temporary. At least, that was what McCoy and M'Benga told Jim. And that was all they told him. He was left sedated on his Biobed while McCoy and Spock argued heatedly about what to do in McCoy's office.

"You can't report this to Starfleet, Spock," McCoy growled. "They'll remove him and stick him into a hospital."

"Yes, Doctor. They will admit him into a hospital that is more equipped to handle his condition," Spock returned smoothly.

"He doesn't need to be hospitalized. It's only temporary."

"For how long? What if his vision does not return for a week or a month? It could possibly take even longer than that. We cannot protect him at all hours of the day, Doctor. We all have our duties."

"Can you even hear yourself, man? I know you're not fully Vulcan, you bastard. This is Jim we're talking about! You care for him. I know you do. You can't possibly be considering sending him away when he needs us. Not when he needs us the most."

Spock tilted his head curiously. He had originally thought that by getting Jim to a top-notch hospital sooner, the faster Jim's condition could be healed, but there was an edge to McCoy's words that made Spock question that train of thought. "Explain that, Doctor."

McCoy ran his left fingers through his hair, exhaling shakily. "You know how, as living beings, we take our senses for granted, but we all have a deep-seeded fear of losing any of them. For me, it's my sense of touch – my ability to move my hands and perform and be a doctor."

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Spock said, pointedly looking at McCoy's frozen hand and wrist at his side.

McCoy waved him off with the other. "It's not about me right now, Spock. I know my problem is temporary. Jim's? I don't know. And Jim's always relied on his sight. I don't know if he knows how to handle this."

They both glanced out through the glass doors to look at Jim's sleeping figure, worry and fear running rampant in their minds.

"What did you tell him, Doctor?"

"That whatever happened was just temporary, just like mine. I told him that the paralytic paralyzed his optic nerve, which is why he can't see right now."

"So you lied."

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell him the whole truth."

And the truth was, Jim's messed up body didn't just have an allergic reaction to the paralytic. He had an autoimmune response to it. In layman's terms, Jim's body attacked itself when the allergic reaction arose, and in the process, Jim's vision was lost. Add on to the fact that it was a paralytic that got into his eyes? Medically, it made sense, but it also meant that McCoy didn't know how long his blindness was going to last.

"What do you propose then, Doctor?"

"Keep him onboard. He needs to be on familiar ground, around familiar people. Don't let the brass know either."

"I think we should at least inform Admiral Pike about this."

"Normally, I'd agree. I trust Pike and so does Jim, but then we're going to put him in an awkward position. He's bound by his duties."

"As are we, Doctor."

"But not nearly as tightly as him. We're on a ship under Jim's direct command, which means that we have the most freedom than anyone else in the entire 'fleet. Jim wouldn't want to burden Pike with this – the less people who know the better."

"We cannot keep this from the crew. Jim's condition is too obvious, too easily noticed. We cannot possibly hide it."

"And I'm not telling you to. The crew will cover for Jim."

"Can you guarantee that?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "That moron has sacrificed his life for almost every single person on this goddamn ship. I think that he's safe."

Spock pondered it for a moment and finally conceded. "Understood. However, I do believe that we should move Jim back to his quarters before he awakens. As you say, he will feel safer in familiar surroundings."

"Yeah, definitely. He's gonna be feeling especially vulnerable now. He won't be happy waking up in the SickBay."

"I assume that we do not want him to wake up alone and disoriented. Shall we remain with him until he awakes?"

"I'm a bit conflicted on that. He might be volatile when he wakes, just to protect himself. We don't want another J.T. incident occurring again."

If J.T., a 13-year-old boy who was starved, beaten, and god knows what else, could take them down in a few seconds, what could a fully grown and terrified Jim do? Neither of them wanted to find out.

"But we should stay," continued McCoy, already walking out of his office and towards Jim. "I don't want him to be alone when he wakes up."

He didn't say it out loud, but Spock knew that it was tradition for McCoy to be beside Jim for the entirety of the time that he was hurt. It was well known that even Jim expected McCoy to be next to him anytime something went wrong - it was how Jim knew how severe his injuries were. If McCoy was already nagging and ranting as he surfaced to consciousness, he knew he was going to be alright and whatever happened was fairly minor. If he woke up to a quiet and tense McCoy, well, it just meant that it was a very close call and Jim tended not to dwell on it, but he always did purposefully become more compliant to mollify his best friend.

Spock followed McCoy and helped the doctor unhook Jim from the bed and set it to hover. As he did, he glanced at McCoy's clearly worried expressions and wondered if the same showed on his own.

Jim was the strongest being that Spock had ever known – he had survived so much, lost so much, and still managed to put on a smile every day. Spock could not understand how that was with his logic; he was forever in awe of the human that was Jim Kirk. If there was anything Spock had faith in, it was Jim. But this? Jim without his magnificent sight that saved hundreds and thousands, if not millions of lives? Spock did not know how Jim was going to react to this.

And honestly? He was frightened to find out.

There was only darkness when Jim woke. His eyes were closed, but he knew he was surrounded by blackness, and he would be when he opened them. It was a familiar feeling – one that he knew far too well and still dreaded, no matter the circumstances. Under his fingertips were standard Starfleet sheets and blankets. Though the material was ambiguous and same throughout the entire ship, Jim just knew that these particular ones belonged to him, which meant that he was in his quarters.

He lay still, taking in his surroundings without his sight. He would have to get used to it – he might as well get started now. There were two presences in his room – one near the door and one by his bed. Their breathing was quiet and soft; he could barely hear it, but it was clearly there. He didn't need his vision to know that they were Spock and Bones (he figured that Bones was the one closest to him – it was sort of tradition for them). Still, as much as he appreciated his friends staying with him and making sure that he wasn't along when he woke, but he couldn't do this right now. He couldn't handle their concerned questions or their pity.

That was always the worst – the look in someone's eyes when they pitied you. It made him feel so small and scrutinized at the same time, like there was no possible escape from their never-ending gaze, and that he could never amount to anything. It was as if there was no hope or love, no desire or serenity. Just shame and utter disappointment that he was nothing but a failure.

And Jim could not even begin to take that right now. Even if he couldn't see it.

He sat straight up, letting the blankets pool around him, and cautiously opened his eyes. It was just as he expected – complete and utter blackness.

"Jim?" Bones questioned. Jim felt him moving towards him.

Jim ignored him. "Lights, 100%."

"Jim," Spock protested, a moment too late.

Jim felt the shift in the atmosphere, feeling the slight heat on his skin from the bright light, but he saw no difference. Despite expecting that, Jim's heart sank, and subconsciously, he curled up, hugging his knees and making himself smaller, trying vainly to be less vulnerable than he already was. It was as if his entire soul was laid out bare.

"Get out," he said quietly to Spock and McCoy.

Bones immediately tried to reach for Jim, but Jim's body language threatened bodily harm if McCoy laid even a finger on him. McCoy flinched back – he had never been on the receiving end of Jim's infamous "touch me and I'll kill you" aura.

Reading the atmosphere, Spock stepped forward. "Jim, please calm yourself."

"Get out," Jim snarled again, this time slightly louder.

"Jim…" Spock tried.

"GET OUT!" Jim roared.

Both Spock and McCoy stumbled back in shock. Jim had never raised his voice to them, let alone with such raw pain and anger in his tone. So they did the only thing they thought to be right – they left without another word.

Jim heard the door swish shut. "Computer, initiate protocol JT5475," Jim whispered. "And lights, 0%."

And he was plunged into the darkness again. Not that it made a difference.

Alone, Jim could now allow himself to succumb to his panic and fear. He had never been afraid of the darkness. He had been born, raised, and grown in the darkness. Wherever he went, the black followed him – he could never allow the night even an inch of weakness because he knew that if he did, it would consume him whole without a question asked.

He had never been afraid. There had never been a reason to, because despite Jim thriving and living in the blackness, he always knew that somewhere, somehow, there was light awaiting him. It may not have been much – a simple ray of sunlight here and there or even just candlelight – but it was always there when Jim needed it most.

There would be none now.

He let his eyes close and his head sink onto his knees. What was he going to do without his sight? He would have to give up his Captaincy and leave his home, his family. Everything Jim needed to feel alive – to be alive – was hinging on his eyes. His damn, useless eyes…

Lunging from his bed with an angry, grief-filled cry, Jim swiped everything off his desk. Things shattered as they hit the ground and wall with such force. He moved on, flipping the table completely over and the chair, which broke upon impact.

He stubbed his toes and was sure that he was getting bruises by accidentally running into his furniture during his rampage, but the despair in his heart overshadowed and overwhelmed any physical pain he could feel.

Within minutes, Jim's entire room was ransacked and overturned, like a wild tornado had swept through and destroyed everything, except for the few trinkets that his crew had given him. Those were kept safe in their own little corner in the one untouched corner of Jim's quarters.

With trembling hands, he reached out for his most prized possessions. His fingers touched nothing but wood at first, but as he continued to search, he found what he was looking for. He felt the smooth edges of the guitar Uhura had given him, the curves of the chess pieces Spock gifted him, the ruffled pages of Sulu's book, and more the raggedy softness of the rabbit stuffed animal Chekov gave him.

Gently, he grasped the animal with both hands. It wasn't very large: it was about fifteen inches tall and six inches wide. He could feel the age of the rabbit – the years of comfort and companionship it had provided to Chekov when he was a child – by the worn fabric and diminished cotton within it. Some small, childish part in his brain yearned for such consolation, and he hugged it tightly to his chest, burying his cheek into its head.

All strength suddenly left him, and he sank to the ground, leaning heavily against the wall for support. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks and he made no effort to stop them.

He let the ugly despair wash over him and sweep him under the deep, dark ocean where he was drowning. Cruel strings of fate bound tightly around his limbs, cutting off all circulation and ability to move. He could no longer breathe or function, and piece by piece, he fell apart, losing everything and breaking all at once.

For the first time in his short, tormented life, Jim let go.

For the first time in Jim Kirk's life, the darkness had finally won.

"How's Kirk?" Uhura asked worriedly the moment Spock and McCoy returned from Jim's room. Her brown eyes took in the sight of McCoy's distraught expressions and Spock's unnaturally tense form and immediately knew that something had gone horribly wrong, and she wasn't the only one beside herself with worry about Kirk.

The entire crew had been immensely concerned about their Captain's health when Spock made the announcement that Jim was temporarily blind. He had emphasized that, under no circumstances, were anyone to report Jim's condition, and to respect their Captain and his need for privacy as well as autonomy when he was feeling well enough to wander the ship. Though slightly alarmed, it seemed that the crew accepted and agreed to keeping their Captain safe without any protest or questions, quite unlike the Command crew.

As soon as Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty heard that McCoy and Spock were moving Jim back to his quarters, they were already there to meet them, but Spock and McCoy hadn't allowed them to enter. They had waited in Spock's room for any new information for about an hour or so before Spock and McCoy returned.

Both of them had matching shocked faces and were moving so numbly that they were immediately ushered into a chair.

"What happened?" asked Sulu. "Is Kirk okay?"

"Do you think he's okay?" snapped McCoy, anger quickly replacing his own panic and fear. "The man's blind! Would you be okay with that?"

"Calm down, Leonard," Uhura quickly stepped in. "We're all worried. Don't lash out at us because of that." She turned to a very quiet Spock. "Why aren't you in there with him? I thought that you weren't going to leave him alone to do anything stupid."

"He did not want us there. He was very adamant," Spock responded. "And angry," he added after a second of thought.

"Jim shouted at us. Told us to get out." McCoy paused, suppressing a shudder. "I've never seen him like that before, Uhura. I didn't know what to do. I still don't know what to do."

"I thought that his condition is temporary," said Sulu. "Does he know that?"

"That's what we told him, but we're not a hundred percent sure of that either. And even if it was temporary, it's still one second longer than what Jim can probably handle."

Chekov frowned. "Vhat are ve going to do zen? How do ve help him?"

Scotty sighed and rested a hand on Chekov's shoulder. "Ah don' think this is somethin' we can 'elp him with. This is somethin' Jim'll have to figure out on his own."

There was a sudden loud roar of frustration that was barely muffled by the walls that separated Jim's room with Spock's. Everyone flinched when they heard the first glass shattered that was rapidly followed by thuds and crashes.

McCoy jumped up, wanting to go and check on Jim to make sure that he didn't hurt himself, but Scotty reached out and grabbed onto him.

"Doctor, this ain't somethin' we can help him with," Scotty said with seriousness that no one had really seen before. "He's gotta come ta terms first before we can help him. Let him get this out of his system. He'll be fine."

"But…!" started McCoy.

"No. You leave Jim alone, ya hear?"

"Are you hearing yourself, man?" McCoy growled.

"Are you hearin' yerself? Tell me, Doctor, wha can ya do right now that's of help ta Jim? You know as well as any of us tha he ain't gonna listen to ya when he's this distraught. And even then, wha makes ya think tha he'll listen ta any of us when we 'ave no idea wha he's going through? If ya talk ta him now, you know you're making it worse. This is not somethin' we can help Jim through – we can only support him."

"You cannot possibly be suggesting that we leave Jim alone, Mr. Scott," protested Spock.

"Ah'm not. We're always aroun' if Jim needs us. He's never alone, and he knows it, so if he asks for space, we should give it ta him. As his friends and family, we should do what we can ta help him in other ways."

Sulu cocked his head, considering. "So, what do you suggest, Scotty?"

"Uhura and ya should monitor all communications from here on, just ta make sure tha no one reports Jim's condition ta the brass. Chekov and I'll look to make a program tha'll detect and disable any communications tha'll pose a danger ta Jim. Doctor, you should get some rest – ya won't be much help ta anyone if you're exhausted. When you're rested, ya should work with Spock ta find somethin' tha'll help Jim's eyes."

Scotty was determined – his expressions hard. "Ah will say this one more time: ya leave Jim alone, ya hear? No botherin' him about his health or askin' if he's okay. That's just like pourin' salt on his wounds. If he wants ta talk to us, he'll come when he's good and ready. Until then, ya just do anything else that you think can help. Got it?"

All nodded.

"Good." A grin broke out on Scotty's face. "Now, I've got some plans ta make this ship more user-friendly for Jim…"

Jim's muscles hurt when he came to again. He was curled on the floor, a complete mess curled around the rabbit. It would have been sad and embarrassing if Jim could even bring himself to care about it. Slowly, he sat up, still leaning against the wall for support. Based on his internal clock, he had been asleep for a while now – probably around five or so hours. He was slightly surprised that no one had called on him or checked on him during that time, but then and again, he did initiate protocol JT5475, which was a program he had written into the computer system to allow complete and total lockdown of his quarters. No one, not even if Chekov, Spock, and Scotty teamed together could break it.

Sighing and breathing deeply, he started to build himself back up. After breaking down so far, there was nothing left to do except move on. Jim was nothing if not a survivor – it may not be living, as he did before this shit happened, but it would have to do for now. Bones did say that his blindness was temporary – Jim had to cling onto that, or he would never be able to recover from this – so there was still some hope.

He was never one to sit around and do nothing anyway. He wasn't the helpless type, and he never would be. If he couldn't see for the foreseeable future, then Jim would just have to adapt and build up all his shields again. This would not define him. This would not bring him down. Jim was far too smart and strong for that.

The rabbit was still clutched loosely in his hands, but he no longer had the need to hug it to death. (He wasn't quite ready to let it go either…) In the depths of the darkness, Jim started to walk forward. Even if he didn't know where he was going, he was at least moving – he refused to be defeated by this.

He wasn't optimistic enough to think that this would all be over in a day or two. His condition could last for weeks, or perhaps even longer than that, which meant that he would be completely vulnerable during that time. And he refused to be a burden to his friends and crew – he didn't want to drag them down with him.

Plans began to formulate in his mind. He may be limited now, but there were still things that he could do. Mind made up, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning for a brief moment against the wall as he gathered his courage. He knew that, by now, everyone onboard probably knew of his "problem" (he refused to call it a condition anymore), and despite the fact that he knew that they all would mean well, Jim simply just wasn't used to relying on anyone. But he just knew that his usual avoidance of asking for help wasn't going to cut it this time.

He was going to need help – big time – but he had to take the first step.

Taking in a deep breath, Jim straightened up, still holding the rabbit, and moved to sit down softly on his bed.

With more nerve than Jim actually had, he said quietly, "Computer, cancel protocol JT5475, and call Doctor McCoy."

He waited patiently for Bones to pick up – he knew that it wouldn't take very long.

Before the first ring even finished, Bones was already answering. "Jim?" The worry and concern was just dripping in that single word.

"Hiya, Bones," Jim said with a sheepish tone. He cringed when he heard the tinge of grief in his voice.

"I uh…" Bones didn't know how to start. Asking if Jim was okay was like throwing oil on the fire – Jim hated pity and hated that question.

Jim blurted out his question before he decided to bury himself into his sad little corner with a blanket over his head. "Can you help me?"

He could hear Bones already moving – presumably leaving the SickBay (he could hear the telltale beeping noises of the heart monitors). "Always. What do you need?"

"Just…uh…come here?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

Bones disconnected and Jim took the time to shift around a little bit so that he was more comfortable.

When Bones arrived, he knocked, which almost made Jim want to laugh. It showed how much Jim had scared him – Bones was rude and crass. He had had never had a sense of privacy, even barging into the bathroom when Jim was showering. (He would like to say that that changed after he became Captain, but that wasn't so. It wasn't just him either – Spock did it too, but he actually shared a bathroom with the Vulcan. Bones had no excuse whatsoever.)

"Come in," Jim called out.

Bones stepped in, his eyes instantly adjusting to the dark. He spotted Jim sitting cross-legged on his bed, towards the center, and holding a stuffed rabbit between his legs. Then, he saw the chaos that laid shattered around him – pieces of glass from a cup that Jim had reflected the slight light from the entrance; chunks of splintered remains of his wooden desk cluttered the floor. With how sparsely Jim's room was decorated before, Bones was honestly quite surprised at how much destruction Jim managed to bring about.

"Where'd you get the rabbit?" asked Bones, approaching Jim cautiously – mostly to avoid all the mess on the floor.

"Chekov. After the whole de-aging incident."

"Ah. Gotcha."

An awkward silence fell. Jim never liked awkward silences and was usually the first to break it. This time was no different.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. And Spock," Jim added as an afterthought.

"It's fine. We get it," McCoy said quickly, stepping fully into the room and shutting the door behind him. (Jim turned up the lights when the door did close – Bones, at least, still needed to be able to see). "Well, we don't, but we get that this is going to be hard for you. What can we do to help?"

Jim's grip on the rabbit tightened. "This is only temporary, right?" His voice sounded so young and raw.

McCoy made sure there was absolute no hesitation when replied. "Yes."

"Say it."

Confused, McCoy frowned. "What?"

"I need to hear it. Say it out loud, Bones."

"Your blindness is only temporary, Jim. You're going to be fine," McCoy obliged resolutely. He wasn't technically lying – until proven otherwise, McCoy was going to believe that this whole thing was temporary.

"How long?"

"I have no idea. A week, maybe? The same goes for my arm."

At that, Jim's head snapped up. "Your hand is still paralyzed?"

"Yeah. I'm off-duty until further notice."

"You mean 'we're' off-duty until further notice."

"Jim…"

"No, no. I get it. Can't have a blind Captain in charge. Can't even have a blind man wandering around." Jim couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

McCoy winced, not that Jim could see it, but he felt it all the same.

"It's fine, Bones, but I need your help."

"Anything."

Jim grinned, though McCoy could see that some of it was forced. "Can you clean my room for me?"

Almost flabbergasted, McCoy found himself rolling his eyes and pushing his sleeves up. "Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a maid."

"You'd make a lovely maid, Bones," Jim joked.

"You keep that up and I'll hit you."

"But I'm blind!"

"I have no qualms with hitting a blind person if he's you. You're probably still more dangerous than Sulu."

A thoughtful look crossed Jim's face.

"Oh no, Jim. You are not allowed to go challenge Sulu to a match," Bones said in between picking things up and shoving them into the garbage can that he had picked up.

Jim just hummed thoughtfully, still holding that rabbit. Bones thought that Jim looked a little bit endearing like that – as if he was far younger than he was, than he ever was or could be. Here, despite being blind and being so absolutely vulnerable, Jim still allowed himself to relax in Bones' presence. To feel safe, even knowing that Bones only had one working hand.

It made Bones feel that everything they had ever gone through – every injury, every unfortunate circumstance, and every pain and hurt that they had ever experienced – was well worth it. Because they had finally found somewhere where they could feel safe and loved.

And Bones felt like Jim knew that too. Five years ago, before the Academy, before the Enterprise, Jim would've hidden himself away, letting the darkness consume him. He would never have shown his face – he would have run, finding some corner to hide in until he was able to suppress and bury everything so deep within himself that he wouldn't feel again. And then who knew what would have happened to him?

But here Jim was now, looking ever so innocent with a stuffed rabbit in his hands, and humming softly to himself as Bones picked up sharp pieces of glass that would easily be used against him.

Bones couldn't help but smile. It wasn't just Jim: they had all come a long way to reach this point – to feel safe and that they belonged somewhere.

"I'm okay, Bones," Jim said, seemingly out of nowhere and drawing Bones out of his thoughts. "Really."

"I believe it," Bones replied with no sarcasm, whatsoever.

"No, really," Jim continued, not yet processing what McCoy had said, "I mean, I wasn't okay before and I probably won't be one hundred percent okay until my sight gets back, but I'm not going to sit around moping. Can you even imagine me moping?"

"Yes. You do it every time someone proves you wrong."

"Beside the point…" Jim paused, Bones' words sinking in. "Wait. You believe me?"

The incredulity in his voice made Bones roll his eyes. "Took you long enough. I thought I had the patent on the long-winded rants."

"You do, which is why I'm confused why there isn't a rant about how I have to take care of myself and not being an idiot who hides in the dark all day long."

"If you were going to do that, I wouldn't be here, cleaning up this stuff for you."

"Oh." Jim fell silent.

Bones paused in his movements and straightened to stare directly at Jim. "Jim, if you need space, we're going to give it to you."

Jim didn't know if he heard correctly. "What?"

"It's because we know you, Jim. We know that this is going to be hard for you and that you have your own ways of dealing with things. If you need space and time, we're not going to suffocate you. Just…if that is what you need, promise me that you'll come out once in a while and show that you're still alive. I'd hate to come and clean up after your body stinks up the place. Think about the hobgoblin! He shares a bathroom with you! What about his delicate sensibilities?"

"Wow, I feel the love," mocked Jim.

"I'm serious. I ain't cleaning up after ya again."

Jim just smiled. "Thanks, Bones." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I…I am going to need my space, but I promise, I'll come find you once in a while."

"Not just me, Jim. The rest too. They all care for you."

Jim hesitated. Being like…this…was one thing before Bones – it was something entirely different from the rest. Sure, he trusted and cared about them all, but it was just different somehow. Jim couldn't put it into words.

Goddamn his freaking issues. He was stronger than this. He was not weak. No, he refused to be weak.

"I promise," Jim replied with harden resolve. He gave Bones a small, albeit genuine smile. "I'm not alone now, right?"

"That you aren't. Now, since you're just going to sit there, can I call the hobgoblin to come help? I've only got one working hand you know."

Jim chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so." He leaned his head back slightly. "Computer, call Spock for me."

Spock must've been waiting beside his communicator, because he answered faster than Bones did. "Captain," Spock greeted.

Jim could actually hear a weird echo through the walls – he was somewhat surprised at that. By the sounds of Bones continuing to clean up, it must've not heard Spock's voice through the wall. He had to smile at that – seemed like his already very sharp senses were picking up the slack for the lack of sight.

"Spock, can you stop by my quarters? And bring a garbage bag."

Though he was clearly confused, Spock merely responded, "Understood," and hung up. Bless his heart – he really was learning to not question Jim's insanity anymore.

A minute later, there was a knock at Jim's door. He didn't move a finger, knowing full well that McCoy would answer for him.

Spock raised an eyebrow at the mess around them, but didn't say anything and immediately set to work. Between the two of them, Jim's room was clean in ten minutes. The floor was left impeccably clean and all the broken furniture was shoved against a corner of the room where Jim couldn't run into it unless he was really trying.

"We will have someone come in and replace your furniture for you, Jim," Spock said as they finished.

Jim just waved his hand. "It's fine. I'll do it myself later. I don't want anyone coming in my room until this passes."

Spock nodded, understanding fully. Jim wouldn't let any stranger come near him until he was more confident (and honestly, less vulnerable). "Of course," Spock said out loud.

"Do you need anything else, Jim?" asked Bones.

Jim shook his head. "No, thanks."

"I've got to head back to Sickbay, but call me whenever you need me, Jim."

"Yeah, I will."

"And I know I don't need to tell you this but…"

Jim cut him off. "Yeah, I know. I won't leave my room unless one of you guys is with me. I got it."

"Okay. Call me, Jim. Anytime."

"You're stifling me, Bones," Jim quirked a smile.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I get the hint. I'm going. See ya later, kid." And he left. (Jim heard the telltale sounds of his door whooshing open and closing.)

"I will retire as well," Spock informed Jim and turned to leave as well.

"Wait, Spock."

Spock turned and glanced at Jim. "Yes, Jim?"

Jim was biting his lip, looking extremely unsure of himself. "I uh…"

"We will not report you to the Admiralty, Jim, if that is what you are concerned about."

"What? Oh, no. I'm not worried about that. I just want to ask you a favor."

"If it is within my abilities, I will do my best."

"Can you spar with me?"

At that, Spock hesitated. "I am not sure that is wise, Jim."

"Yeah, I know I'm handicapped right now, but I can't sit around like this. I just can't." There was panic in Jim's voice now. It was well hidden, but Spock had trained himself to be able to detect even a hint of it.

Immediately, Spock changed tactics. "Jim, please explain your reasoning."

It wasn't a no, and Jim recognized that. Jim ran his fingers through his hair. He exhaled, clearly frustrated at figuring out the right words to describe his emotions. "You know me, Spock. You know I hate being idle more than anything."

Spock glanced at his friend. This was the first time Spock had ever seen Jim so frightened and upset. Though Jim hid it well, there were clear and obvious signs that made Spock feel so much more protective towards Jim. There was nothing Spock would do for his friend; it would not change now. "Alright."

For the second time, Jim wasn't sure if he heard correctly. "Wait, what? You're agreeing, just like that?"

"Yes."

"No rants or a lecture about how that's not a good idea?"

"No. Where would you like to practice?"

Clearly still confused, Jim sounded a bit hesitant when he responded. "Uh…I guess one of the observation decks? Number three is usually unused."

"Understood. Shall we go now?"

"Yeah, sure. Can you grab me a couple of my workout clothes from my closet?"

Wordlessly, Spock did as asked and moved closer to Jim. Jim flinched when he realized that Spock was suddenly next to him, and Spock made a note to himself to make his footsteps more noticeable when approaching Jim.

"Thanks," Jim said, taking his clothes from Spock.

As he did, Jim's hand accidentally brushed Spock's and Spock was suddenly overwhelmed with the crushing feeling of desperation, frustration, and fear. There was so much fear trapped within Jim. Fear of being so helpless and weak and vulnerable to attacks – of not being able to protect himself or anyone he cared about. He feared that his condition would last forever and that he would no longer be able to see the stars that symbolized hope and a future for him. He was drowning, drowning, drowning, and the only way he could possibly even begin to figure out how to get his head above the water was to do something, to do anything. Calculations and plans filtered through and Spock could see the wonder that was Jim's mind: always turning, always thinking, always planning.

Then he finally understood. Jim wanted to hone his skills with sparring – to make sure that he wouldn't be a dead burden to anyone so that if the worst did happen, he could go off on his own and disappear. More importantly, he needed to feel strong. To be how he always was – to be confident in himself and his ability to fight, to struggle. He had always lived by clawing his way to the top; he didn't know how to carry on any other way. And if he couldn't carry on? Well, even Spock feared the answer to that.

Jim's voice came flittering through the swirling mess of emotion. "Spock?"

Spock snapped out immediately. "Jim."

Jim was looking at him curiously, but it was obvious that he hadn't realized that Spock had read his mind by accident. If he had, there was no way Jim would've stayed calm.

"Are we going?"

Spock glanced at Jim, surprised that Jim had already managed to change without Spock noticing. It only spoke to how turbulent Jim's emotions were, consuming Spock enough for him to get so distracted, but Spock shook it off. "Will you need me to guide you?"

Jim shook his head, already sliding off the bed and getting to his feet. "Just walk and talk and I can follow. But warn me if I'm going to run into a pole or something."

"What shall I talk about?" Spock said, leading the way to the door. It swished open and shut behind them both.

"Anything."

Spock started walking slowly down the hallway, watching Jim carefully. "It is difficult to speak about 'anything' due to the fact that 'anything' is not quantifiable."

Jim had a hand out, his fingers touching the wall, as he followed Spock. His eyes were wide open, which would have baffled Spock if he hadn't read Jim's mind earlier. Jim wanted to keep up the pretense that he was completely normal. Not for the crew, but for himself. He was going to fake it until he made it.

Still, at Spock's comment, Jim's concentrated look was slightly broken by his small smile. "Fine then. Tell me a story."

"What would you like to hear?"

"You choose. Something interesting."

Spock thought for a moment, still watching Jim walk a step behind him. Jim's brows were furrowed and he was 'looking' down at his feet. With sudden realization, Spock realized that Jim was counting his footsteps, making a mental map of his beloved ship. Instantly, he knew what story he was going to tell Jim.

"When I was a child," Spock started, slowing down his steps as they rounded a corner, "I was taunted by other children my age for being half-Vulcan."

"Pricks…" Jim muttered under his breath, and despite Spock not bothered by his past, he still appreciated Jim's comment.

He continued. "One day, several of the children and I were brought to the Catacombs. As a jest, the boys purposefully left me behind and I was lost in the dark. However, I had foreseen such an incident, and had carefully counted and memorized the number of steps it took to enter and exit the caves."

Jim smiled again. "You figured out what I was doing, didn't you?"

"It is a wise idea."

"So how did it end?"

"How did what end?"

They were a few feet from Jim's favorite observation deck.

"What happened after you got out of the cave?" Jim asked.

"My peers were fairly certain that I would never return and had already told the news to my father. When I appeared and recounted what had transpired, my father had them severely punished by public humiliation."

"That must've been awesome."

"It was very satisfying." Spock came to a stop near the end of dark room, his above-average eyes adjusting to the blackness. Jim, hearing Spock's footsteps end, followed suit. "How would you like to begin this, Jim?"

"I don't actually know. I'm kind of winging it."

"What do you hope to gain from this?"

"I hope to figure out what I can do without my goddamn eyes." Jim shifted, squaring his shoulders. "You know what? Just punch me."

Spock was floored. "Excuse me?"

"Just punch me, Spock." Jim raised both hands and made the "come hither" sign with his fingers. "Punch me."

"I do not think I will, Jim."

"Come on, Spock. I gotta be able to figure out if I'll be able to sense or hear something. Punch me."

"Jim, I do not feel comfortable…"

"Spock, your mother was a hamster and your father smells of elderberries!" Jim suddenly yelled.

Though Spock didn't get the reference, he was shocked by Jim's sudden loudness and threw out a quick jab.

Jim shifted slightly, but not enough to miss any of Spock's blow. There was a loud crunching noise and Jim went down, clutching his nose. "OW!" he gasped. But at least his nose was bruised, not broken. He knew the difference well.

"Jim, are you alright? I'm sorry."

But Jim was grinning at Spock. Even without his eyes, Jim knew the punch was coming. More specifically, he knew where it was going to land. There had been a shift in the atmosphere – a break in the air as Spock's hand traveled towards his face. Though he couldn't quite hear anything, he felt the wind of Spock's fist milliseconds before it hit, which meant that he could sense where the hits were going to come – he just needed to work on his reaction time.

Excited, Jim jumped to his feet, the pain already forgotten. "Again," he demanded, raising his fists in a defensive position.

"Jim, you should have Doctor McCoy examine your nose. I may have broken it."

"No blood, no foul. Besides, it's probably just bruised. I'll have Bones take a look at it when I've got this down. Come on, Spock. Punch me again."

"You are the singularly most exasperating individual I have ever met, Jim, did you know that?"

"Yes, which is why you're going to indulge me. Punch me!"

Spock did so again, but this time, he almost missed. Jim still got hit in the face, but not where Spock had originally intended. He was off his mark by an inch. His eyes widened as he realized that that wasn't a fluke. In one blow, Jim had found a pattern.

Jim was, without a doubt, a bonafide genius.

"Again!" Jim barked out, already recovered.

Spock threw more strength into this next punch, and this time, Jim dodged it.

Jim grinned toothily. "Aw yeah. That's what I'm talking about. Come at me, Spock. Give me your best shot."

The next half hour was composed of Spock and Jim actually sparring. At first, it was slow and Jim got hit more often than not. It took him a while to get a sense of the patterns in fighting and listening to his carefully honed instincts telling him where to move and how to react. If he concentrated hard, he could almost touch the break in air and the wind caused by limbs moving against gravity. He wasn't as strong or as quick as he once was, but he was still confident that he could hold his ground for a bit.

By the end of it, Jim was lying on the ground, sweaty, exhausted, and slightly in pain, but he was whole-heartedly exhilarated. Words couldn't describe the feeling, but if he had to choose one, it would be 'empowered'.

Spock would have smiled at the sight of Jim's happy expression if he wasn't Vulcan, despite the fact that Jim was literally covered in bruises. "Jim, I think you should go see Doctor McCoy now."

"Yeah…I don't think I can walk anymore," breathed Jim.

"Would you like me to call Doctor McCoy here?"

Jim sat up, wincing as he did. Yep. Those were some bruised ribs there. "No, it's okay."

"You cannot go untreated, Jim."

"I wasn't planning on it. Can you bring me back to my room? Bones can meet us there."

Spock reached out and gently guided one of Jim's hands (the wrist was swollen, and Spock felt a spark of guilt deep within him) to his shoulder. Jim gingerly climbed onto Spock's back, huffing as it caused him pain.

Slowly, Spock carried Jim through the halls and back to his room, setting him on his bed. He called McCoy and glanced at Jim, internally wincing at the bruises that marred Jim's face. The worst of them all was the blow to his nose – the first one that Spock had thrown. More than anything, he was afraid of what McCoy was going to do to him after this.

"Jim, I have some paperwork to complete, so if you will excuse me," Spock lied.

Jim chuckled. "Yeah, get out of here before Bones shows up. I promise I won't throw you under the bus."

Though Spock normally would have called Jim out on his use of the idiom, he didn't want to run into McCoy with Jim looking like he did. "Thank you," he said instead.

"Thank you, Spock, for tonight. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Jim."

Spock turned to leave via their adjoined bathroom. He was just at the door when Jim called out for him again.

"Spock?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"Can you keep this a secret?"

"May I ask why?"

"I just…don't want people to know."

"Alright."

Jim smiled. "This whole blind thing is making you all so much more agreeable, isn't it?"

Spock's eyes softened. "I can neither confirm nor deny that."

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Of course, Jim. I will see you tomorrow."

There was a knock on Jim's door and in a flash, Spock was gone, leaving Jim in a mess of chuckles and bruises.

That was how Bones found him and though Bones did scold Jim for being so reckless during the entirety of healing all Jim's bruises, Jim could hear the pleased tone in his words. It was obvious that Bones was glad that Jim was in a better mood.

"So, how did this happen again, Jim?"

"I ran into a table."

McCoy snorted. "Right, and I'm a pretty little fairy."

Jim just smiled more. "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

"Fine, don't tell me. Just don't do it again, or I'll just let you feel the pain like you deserve."

"You're too much a softy to actually do that, Bones, and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah." Bones reached up and ruffled Jim's hair with his one working hand (the other was still paralyzed, like Jim's eyes). "Get some sleep, okay? It's late. Do you need a sedative?"

Jim thought about it and shook his head. "I think I'll be okay."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Jim."

"See ya, Bones."

Bones left without another word. Jim waited for the sound of the door closing before he was on the move again.

Time for step two of his plan.

With more determination imbedded in his nerves, Jim opened the door somberly. He felt a whoosh of air that was slightly cooler in temperature than what was in his room, and stepped out. Even after his door closed behind him, Jim stayed still, listening intently.

There were a couple of voices that were coming closer and closer – both female. They were probably of light build – their steps weren't loud – and it seemed like they were shorter than Jim was – their voices were coming from a couple of inches below Jim's full height. Based on their voices and Jim's relative unfamiliarity with them (he would know his Command crew's voices in his dreams), he guessed that they were probably Ensigns.

Whether or not his predictions were correct, Jim still froze when he realized that they were approaching him quickly. Subconsciously, he opened his eyes, trying to seem as normal as possible. He wasn't sure how they were going to react to him or worse, how he was going to react to them.

Despite gathering his confidence and courage, this was different than being in the company of Spock or Bones – people that he knew and implicitly trusted. He could already feel every single hair on his body raise, his muscles tensing. Without his sight, he was far more on guard than he would ever be – ready to fight and defend himself when needed.

"Captain Kirk?" he heard one of the girls call out his name. (Young, his brain supplied. Probably early to mid-twenties, like he was). She sounded confused and concerned at the same time.

Instantly, Jim felt his body stiffening even further – that sort of tone always put him on the defensive. He remained silent, but it didn't last long. The girl was already speaking again.

"Captain, where are you heading off to?" she asked. This time, her tone was completely different – as if she was talking to a familiar friend. There was no tinge of pity, worry, or fear. It was lighthearted and warm.

"Uh…Engineering…" Caught off guard, Jim answered truthfully without really thinking about it. He should've made up something else – there was no way she was going to let him go to a place where there was so much danger at every turn. He was all ready for her to deny him and drag him to McCoy. His entire body language was shrinking, making himself smaller, like a child about to be scolded.

"Oh! We were heading there too. Would you like to accompany us, Captain?"

Jim's eyes narrowed as he tried to detect any false note in her words, but all he could hear was genuine curiosity and hope.

"Calm on, Captain," the other girl pleaded (by her voice, she seemed to be the same age as her companion. Maybe younger – she did have a slightly higher frequency, which always made it hard to tell age), "I promise that you won't regret it. Right, Penelope?"

Was she flirting with him? Jim was baffled. What the hell was going on? But if she really was flirting with him, he was more than comfortable to respond similarly. After all, being absolutely charming was second nature to him. He knew it as well as breathing.

He smiled brightly at both of them. "Why, it would be my genuine pleasure," he responded with a slight Southern drawl to it.

They giggled. "You imitating Dr. McCoy now?" the first girl, Penelope, laughed.

"Don't tell Bones," Jim replied back.

"Well then, Captain," the second girl said, "Lead the way."

At that, Jim hesitated. He knew that he was supposed to turn left, but he had no idea how to get to Engineering without his vision.

One of the girls – Jim wanted to think it was Penelope, the first girl – grabbed his right arm and started leading him down the hallway, chattering loudly. Immediately, in the back of his head, he started counting his steps again. The path to his observation deck took him on the opposite path than where he was going to now.

"So Captain, Charlene here and I were talking about our time in the Academy," (Jim was right about who it was on his arm) Penelope said brightly, "You were always a hot topic. Is it true that you proved Professor Lee's mathematical theory on advanced theoretical physics wrong? The one on the Schwarzschild wormhole?"

"You know about that? I thought that Professor Lee was determined to bury that under mounds of bureaucracy."

Charlene spoke (she was walking alongside his left side). "Of course we know about that. We're under Lieutenant Commander Scott – every chance he gets, he always talks about it."

Jim chuckled. "That doesn't surprise me. Scotty doesn't like Lee very much."

The girls' footsteps slowed. Jim's subconsciously mimicked it, and he felt a minuscule tug on his right arm. His brain instantly supplied that they were turning right. (Fifty-three steps from his room).

"Were you even in the Advance Theoretical Physics course?" Penelope asked.

"Uh…no. I was sort of bored and decided to sit in to see what it was like. Lee happened to be lecturing and speaking about his theory about wormholes that day. We ended up getting into a huge debate on whether or not wormholes could be crossed in both directions."

Awe and interest was in her tone now. "Is it?"

"Yeah, but only if it's stabilized by negative energy density exotic matter. Or if you happen to have red matter handy, but I didn't know about that stuff until after the whole Nero situation."

The pace slowed again, this time coming to a complete stop. He heard Charlene to his left reach forward and press the button to the turbolift. He only knew that because he heard the familiar whirl start up before him. (Forty-seven steps.)

The doors whooshed and Jim was already stepping in before he even had a chance to think about it. Charlene pressed for the proper floor and he felt the lift begin to descend.

"Do you know why Lieutenant Commander Scott doesn't like Lee?" asked Penelope.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think it was Lee that convinced Scotty to experiment on Archer's beagle. The rest, I'm sure you know."

While they were speaking, the turbolift reached the Engineering floor. There was another whoosh and suddenly, Jim wasn't too sure anymore. There was definitely going to be more people there – he was pretty sure that gamma shift was already halfway through, if not more, but that was usually when the Engineers came out. Scotty and his people always did keep odd hours.

Even with his eyes wide open, he was sure that everyone was going to be able to read the uncertainty in his steps and movements. There was no possible way that Jim was going to be able to hide the fact that he was blind.

Charlene (it had to be her because Penelope wasn't in the position to do what she did) stepped around to face Jim (he could feel that by the location of where her voice came from). Lightly, she touched Jim's cheek.

"Captain, everything's going to be fine. You'll see. You're our Captain – that will never change. We won't let it," she said softly. Then her voice became stronger and had a tinge of amusement in it. "I think Lieutenant Commander Scott has some new toys for you."

At that, Jim perked up. Scotty always had the best innovations and things for Jim – he still adored that fermentation station Scotty had built in the back of Engineering. Caught up with the prospect of something fun and interesting, Jim let Penelope subtly guide him out of the turbolift and towards Engineering. (Thirty-nine steps).

When the doors opened, Charlene was already rushing through, shouting, "Lieutenant Commander Scott! The Captain's here to see your toys!"

Though the chatter and clanking (some of which Jim recognized to be machinery) didn't change in volume or tone, he was sure that Charlene made such a huge scene at their arrival so that the crew knew and could keep an eye on him. He wasn't sure if he was mortified or extremely touched at how much they cared about him. If it was only a few years ago, he definitely would have leaned towards the former, but not anymore.

A small smile crept onto Jim's face and he willingly followed Charlene, letting her footsteps lead him and Penelope's hold guide him, but this was also Engineering. He knew this place just as well as his own room. He could feel more confidence enter him – the level wasn't anywhere close to how he would feel with his sight – but it was more than what he had started with after this whole fiasco started. And that made a world of difference for him.

"Jim!" he heard Scotty call out for him.

"Hey there, Scotty," Jim smiled. Scotty's booted footsteps came nearer and nearer until he felt Scotty's callused hands on his arm.

"How are ya doin', Jim?" Scotty turned to the two girls. "Penelope, Charlene, whatcha doin'? Doncha all got some work to do?" There was absolutely no heat in his words – only warmth and gratefulness. "Git out of here. And thank ya kindly, girls, fer fetchin' our Captain fer me."

"Yes, thank you so much, Penelope, Charlene. I appreciate it," Jim said sincerely.

"No, thank you, Captain," Penelope replied, leaning forward to kiss Jim lightly on the cheek. He felt Charlene do the same (two sets of lips). And then he heard them walking away – back towards the front of Engineering.

Scotty chuckled, patting Jim on the arm. "Yer still the lady talker, aren't ya?"

"Hey, I can't help it!" Jim joked.

"Whatcha doin' down here anyway, Jim?" Scotty asked, leading Jim subtly by the arm deeper into Engineering.

"I was going to ask you to make me some toys, but Charlene and Penelope said that you have some ready for me already?"

"That I do, laddie. Let me show you."

"And that's why you're my favorite, Scotty." Jim paused. "So, do you want to tell me why no one's pointing out the obvious? Those girls went really out of their way to make everything seem normal."

"That'll be the crew's love for ya, Jim. When they all heard wha' happened, they all kinda just decided to let you go on like nothin' was different."

Jim was honestly baffled. "Why?"

"Because we all know how difficult this is gonna be for ya until you get yer sight back, and it wouldn't help ya if we walked around on eggshells. You've said somethin' like tha before, haven't ya?" Scotty pushed Jim down into a chair. "Besides, knowing you, yer probably gonna find a way ta make this turn out ta be an advantage ta ya, am I right?"

Jim quirked a small smile in Scotty's general direction (it was sort of hard to pinpoint Scotty's exact location unless he was touching Jim. There were many sounds and noises in Engineering that it made Scotty's voice bounce a bit). "I'm working on it. What do you have for me?"

Jim felt Scotty gently put something small into his ear. "This works like echolocation – it'll scan the path in front of ya using sonar waves and beep if yer 'bout ta run inta somethin'. Wanna test it out?"

Jim shook his head. He was sure that he was going to get confused in Engineering – there were always so many things lying cluttered around, "Naw, I trust you. Is it obvious?"

"Not unless ya turn yer head."

"Thanks, Scotty."

"Thank Chekov too. He helped design it." There was a clanking sound as Scotty brought something over again.

Jim grimaced, realizing what it probably was. "If that's a cane, you can keep it. Even if it is decked out."

"McCoy told us that you'd need somethin' like this," Scotty began protesting. "And this has some good stuff on it!"

Standing, Jim reached out (fumbling a bit) and patted Scotty on the shoulder. "He would. Thanks, but no thanks, Scotty. I'm good with this earpiece."

"Are ya sure?"

Jim didn't have to see to know that Scotty was frowning a bit. He smiled reassuringly. "Yeah, this earpiece is great. Thanks."

"It was my pleasure, Jim."

"I should get back to my room now," Jim said, standing.

"Do ya need me to walk ya back?"

"I think I'm going to be alright, Scotty," Jim replied with a small smile.

His phrasing had double meaning to it, and Scotty caught on to it quickly, but he still had to be certain.

Scotty probed a bit more. "Ya sure?"

There was no hesitation in Jim now. The determination and confidence was evident on his calm expressions. Jim grinned. "Yeah, I really am. I'm going to be alright. Promise."

And he really believed it.

That was, until Bones messed up.

Because that was when it all fell apart.

To be continued.

Chapter Text

XVI

Fake it 'til You Make it

Part 2

For the next few days, Jim kept to his agreement to Bones. He spent most of his day (both Alpha and Beta shift) sleeping to stave off the boredom, but once a day, he'd poke his head out of his quarters and have a meal (usually dinner) with his Command crew. They'd walk him back to his room before they retired for the night, fully expecting Jim to go to sleep as well, but the night was when Jim became truly active.

Every night, as Gamma shift started, Jim would quietly make his way through his bathroom and knock on Spock's door. Spock would answer, follow Jim back to his room, and pick out a workout outfit for him (Jim had tried picking his own clothes once, but that ended very badly. Turns out that that was one thing he couldn't train himself to figure out, not that it was something that he cared too much about it.)

Both would then make their way to the most empty observation deck to spar. Their workout probably lasted about two hours – just long enough to wear Jim out and short enough that he didn't have any huge bodily injury that they would have to call McCoy to handle (unlike the very first time Jim started this with Spock).

Once finished, Spock would lay out clothes as Jim showered. It was generally the standard Starfleet black uniform – he was well aware that Jim didn't go to sleep after their workout. He wasn't sure what Jim did, but if Jim didn't offer the information, he wasn't going to ask.

Patiently, Spock would wait until Jim was dried off and fully dressed before he retired back to his own room, leaving Jim to his own devices. (It was very lucky that Spock didn't need as much sleep as a normal human. In fact, he was sure that was why Jim picked him instead of Sulu or anyone else to spar with in the first place. Jim was selfless – he would never purposely take away from someone else for his own benefit if he could help it, and Spock's sleeping cycle was completely unchanged by Jim's request.)

Jim would spend the rest of the Gamma shift wandering his ship, mapping every inch of her. There was always some Ensign who would keep him company. It was almost like they were waiting outside of his door for him. Every time he stepped out, it wouldn't be more than two minutes before someone joined him. Sometimes, (because he did spend hours walking around and people had duties), he would be accompanied by two or more different Ensigns per night.

Logically, he knew his pride would have started to question them and wonder if it was because they didn't trust him on his own. He would have been (and should be) infuriated by that normally, but not once did a single one act like he was handicapped. They all were like Penelope and Charlene – never reaching out to lead him like a guide dog. Instead, they talked and let their voices lead him, only gently maneuvering him out of the way of a random object in their path if Scotty's earpiece didn't catch it in time.

If Jim had to be honest, he was really touched that his crew cared that much. He always knew that his crew was loyal, but to be so understanding and considerate when logic and regulations told them to kick Jim off the Enterprise? It was more than Jim deserved, at least in his mind.

He really did have the best crew in the world. He actually came to look forward to his nightly wanderings and all the stories his crew would share with him. It made him feel – dare he say it? – loved.

He was making progress, honing his other senses and brushing up on skills that he never thought that he would have to use again. He was doing well – physically and emotionally, which was something that he really had to work at. He really thought that he was going to be alright – he really believed that there was going to be some light at the end of his dark, dark tunnel.