Jim let his speed pick up once they were out in the mountains, letting the world outside of the wind in his hair, the cycle under him, the man at his back, and the road beneath them vanish. He wasn't a captain, he wasn't part of Starfleet, just himself in ways sometimes he forgot he could be.

They went past some beautiful country as the sun started setting, bathing the whole world in crimson. Jim only flicked on the headlight when he couldn't see anymore, driving deeper and deeper along the solitary road.