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“They gave her back to me,” Pike says gently. “The Enterprise.”
Kirk looks back down at the bar and nods slowly. He takes a deep breath. “Congratulations,” he forces out. “Watch your back with that first officer, though.” Kirk downs the rest of his drink to stop himself from saying anything worse.
Pike shakes his head. “Spock’s not going to be working with me,” he says. “He’s been transferred. USS Bradbury. You’re going to be my first officer.” Kirk sets down his drink and turns to look at the admiral. “Yeah, Marcus took some convincing, but every now and then, I can make a good case.”
It takes a few seconds for Kirk to formulate a response. “What did you tell him?” he finally asks.
“The truth,” Pike replies. “That I believe in you. That if anybody deserves a second chance, it’s Jim Kirk.”
Kirk’s eyes sting. He turns away from Pike so his mentor won’t see his fluttering eyelids. “I don’t know what to say.”
Pike smiles. “That is a first.”
Kirk knows that the appropriate words are “thank you”, but he can’t quite find the maturity to get them out. Instead, he just shakes his head. “Shut up,” he mutters. To punctuate his point, he gives Pike a playful shove.
Well. That’s his intention, anyway. But his coordination is shot from the alcohol and pent-up frustration, and his palms make contact with Pike’s chest just a bit harder than intended. And as Pike’s eyes widen with shock and his arms windmill backward, Kirk recalls one salient detail about his mentor: his balance has been shot ever since Nero.
Kirk lunges out of his seat, hoping to break Pike’s fall, but he’s too slow. The back of Pike’s head crashes into the ground with a sickening thud, and his eyes close.
“Sir?” Even as Kirk’s heart beats out of his chest, the rest of his body remembers its training and takes over. “Admiral, can you hear me?” His knees press against Pike’s ears, holding his cervical spine steady to prevent any further injury, as Kirk’s fingers reach for his neck to check a pulse.
Pike’s eyes snap open, and he shoves Kirk’s hand away. “Argh, Kirk, I’m fine,” he growls, struggling to twist his head free and sit up. “Let me go.”
Kirk gingerly pushes Pike back onto the floor. “Sir, you really shouldn’t move. You hit your head, I think you-“
“Let me go,” Pike insists as he manages to free himself from Kirk’s clutches. He uses his arms to help him sit up and reaches for his comm, which is chirping in his pocket. “I’m fine.”
“Admiral, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“
“Save it, Kirk,” he snaps, waving off the concerned bartender hovering over them. “I’m alright.” He scowls at the message on his comm screen. “Emergency session at Daystrom.”
“Sir, I think I should call a beam-out to Medical. You could have a concussion.”
“I’ve had a concussion before; I know what it feels like.” Pike looks up at the bartender and points to his cane leaning against the bar. “Can you hand me that so we can get out of here?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you leave after an incident without being checked by medical personnel. It’s bar policy.”
“Are you serious?” Pike points to the badge on his chest. “I’m a Starfleet admiral, and I have a meeting to get to at HQ. It’s urgent.”
The bartender shifts uneasily on his feet. “No exceptions. I’ve already called emergency services.”
Pike sighs. “Fine.” He glares at Kirk. “Marcus is not going to be pleased.”
“Sir, again, I did not mean-”
“Kirk, shut up. That’s an order.”
~
In the emergency department of Starfleet Medical, Dr. Boyce runs his tricorder over Pike’ head. He nods to himself, then checks the biobed readings. “Well, it’s good news,” he reports. Kirk breathes a sigh of relief from his place by Pike’s side. “You don’t have a concussion or any serious bleeding. But you might have a lump on your head tomorrow.”
“Great,” Pike grumbles. “Can I go? I have a meeting at HQ.”
“Just a few more questions.” Boyce makes a note on his PADD. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I-” Kirk begins.
Pike shoots him a death glare and he falls silent. “I fell.”
“You fell,” Boyce repeats. His eyebrow lifts and he glances between Pike and Kirk. “What were you doing in that bar?”
“What is this, an interrogation?” Pike retorts. “I was off-duty and I wasn’t drinking in uniform. I didn’t violate any rules.”
“I know,” Boyce says. “I only want to make sure you’re alright.”
“I’m fine,” Pike replies. “Nothing happened; I’m just not used to sitting on barstools and I took a tumble.”
“Alright.” Boyce’s eyebrow arches, but he doesn’t say anything more. “As long as you’re not experiencing any issues with your balance.”
“I’m not. Can I go now? If Kirk and I leave now, we might be able to make the meeting with Marcus.”
Boyce sighs and makes a few more notes on his PADD. “Alright. But if you have any new symptoms, please let me know.”
“I will. Thanks, Phil.” He slides off the biobed and picks up his cane. “Kirk, let’s go.”
“Wait.” Boyce puts his hand on Pike’s shoulder. “Chris, where at HQ did you say you were meeting?”
“I didn’t.” Pike grabs his jacket and starts to put it on. “But it’s at Daystrom. Why?”
“Because…” Boyce trails off, a horrified expression on his face. Both Pike and Kirk follow his gaze to the news screen in the corner of the room. “Isn’t that Daystrom?”