James T. Kirk

Soon, the place they had called 'home' for a month would be light years behind them, just captured in memories and photographs and records. Things would be left behind, things would be taken. Not just the physical things, but so many mental things, and worse, people. So many of the people that Jim had come to know would be either be staying behind on the planet, transferred to new ships, or would be on the last day or two of transport to the Starbase where things had all began.

Jim sat on the beach, toes smushed into the wet sand, staring at the sunrise reflecting off the warm sea waters. It reminded him of Risa in a lot of ways, except Risa seemed almost cool compared to Sha'Kwai's constant heat and it hadn't rained once in the month they had been there. He wondered how it would be different, without many of the displaced people staying behind. It was too early in the morning to try to remember those that were.

He hadn't seen Sam in days, and even a little nosy peek around had revealed Sam wasn't only not there, he hadn't been for a while. Maybe Sam had played it cool and was really freaked out by what had happened. The idea of Sam, who while he had a temper didn't nearly have one to match his, being freaked out a little made Jim laugh quietly to himself. Maybe they were more alike than expected, even being brothers.

He had thought a lot about Sam's words that day when they had woken up together, when Jim had definitely freaked out, his fight with Bones... he hated that fight. Every part of him did. Not like couples didn't fight, but not normally like that. There was a lot of him that didn't understand things that was happening between the three of them, a lot of confused feelings, but... Sam had said that they had shared Bones without a problem. It had been fun (even if when morals kicked back in slightly wrong) and... Sam had a good point. They had shared Bones. Jim looked down at the sand, trying to remember more, understand it, but time was starting to fuzz things into half-memory.

Didn't matter after all.

He and Bones had done a lot since then. Come together in powerful ways to learn about the bond, about shielding. Something going on with Sybok... Jim couldn't entirely put his finger on it though, and he wouldn't ask Bones about it unless Bones wanted to talk. Then Sybok wanted to join them on the ship...

He rubbed his brow, and smiled. Maybe, just maybe, things were coming together. Spock would have his brother, which was good for the two of them Jim was pretty sure. Bones would keep Sam as his yeoman... and... share him. Was it possible? Was it really possible? If it made Bones happy... If it made Bones happy. Share him. They would all need to talk. Calmly, without any liquor involved, and figure it out. That'd be nice, or at least helpful, once they were back out in space and things were starting to look more like normal again.

His dad was going to get married to Christopher Pike of all people. Asked him to officate. That meant learning what he was supposed to say over these things, and Jim made a mental note to do it. The concept of them getting married still made his head swim but Jim approved of it. It made him think of his mother, sending a little twinge through his chest. He had thought... that after what had happened, when he was a kid again... that maybe they could be closer. How she had protected him...

Jim smiled sadly. Wasn't meant to be, it seemed. Too much past not just between him and her, but between her and George. If it made her happy to be elsewhere, all he could do was wish her the best and put it behind him. He had lived more than ten years without her, without knowing her voice, he could do another ten years. Still, he had her comm number safe and secure in his PADD. A note now and then... maybe she could manage that? He'd find out in a while, when he found out her assignment on another ship.

He stood up, dusting sand off his robe, and started to walk indoors.

While the idea of going to a baby shower didn't settle well with his manhood nor his mood after having talked to her, that didn't mean he didn't care about what she was going through, and the little girl that would, sort of indirectly, be the only one to ever carry on the Kirk name. His gift had been small and came with a set of pens to actually use it. He couldn't wrap to save his damn life, so he didn't bother. He hoped it would be okay, to her tastes. It took only a bit of quick hackery the night of the babyshower to get into her room and leave it laying on her bed with a little note so she could find it come morning.

Tina,

Keep every memory alive long after it's been lived. Sometimes, a physical reminder can be a thousand times more powerful than any image on a PADD.

JTK

Indoors, he stripped of his robe and took a fast shower, then pulled on some comfortable clothing. While he had a chance, he was going to go buy a few things and have them taken up to the ship. Reports had come in that the last of his requested changes to the ship had been finished. For the sake of his crew, he wanted it to be home, and a damn well comfortable home, for the next five years.

The changes were small but many. Larger beds - at least queen - in each quarters. It had taken some design work, but that was why everyone was supposed to take everything of theirs. He had put in a got a request for some very specialized medical officers to be added to Bones' line of nurses to replace Chapel and Chapel. New technology since the Enterprise had been made had been added. Every replicator and transporter was functioning at normal, and the replicators had thousands of new choices in apparel, food, and drink. The bar was under way - not in a rec room as he had first thought, but instead in an observation deck like Bones had suggested (a damn good suggestion at that). Jim had gotten a report about the sheer amount of liquor Guinan had managed on five thousand credits and was damn well pleased by it; he liked her already.

With a little smile on his lips, feeling good about the day, Jim left his room and went to go see what he wanted to take back to his home in the stars.

When Jim left the trial that evening, it was over. No more offense, no more defense. The trial was over. Tomorrow, when he came there in the morning, they would know what would be happening with the Romulans. He felt at ends about it, broken into pieces.

So instead of going back to his room, dealing with dinner he wouldn't eat, he decided to go do something instead. After some deciding, a quick bit of research, Jim had somewhere to go. He asked Bones, but wasn't entirely surprised when Bones declined to want to come. It wasn't exactly something up Bones' alley, but tonight, it wasn't a terrible thing. Just a few hours to go out, clear his head, then come back and find Bones' arms.

That's what set Jim out to the distant cliffs, where the beaches were shallow and warm like the ocean itself. He had on a pair of swim trunks, goggles, and pairs of specially designed shoes and gloves with webs in them to help him swim and still retain movement in his fingers. He dumped the backpack he had brought with him, and pulled on the last two items he needed. Around his neck went the mouth piece to his slim, light weight breathing device that could process the water into oxygen for him to breathe. Around his head went a band with a small camera attached, and on his belt was a very light weight processor that would record everything the camera saw. He thought it would be interesting to keep, and bring back so Bones could see.

The waters of Sha'Kwai were amazing. The things he saw, diving down as deep as he could before he couldn't tolerate it anymore. It cleared his head, the silence of everything except his bubbles and the moving water. It was warm down there, like slightly less warm bathwater. He saw strange fish with horns on their head, giant coral-like creatures that swayed when he came close to them and brushed against him, even something that looked like an alligator except when it opened its mouth a small tentacle emerged and struck at a fish.

When it started to get dark, he had to get out so he could be safe. He grabbed a towel out of the backpack he had brought and dried himself off, and started to walk back towards the guest quarters again. It was a bit of a walk - the beach he had started on had been recommended to him, but the walk felt good. Worked out the kinks in his muscles.

If Jim wanted to get some time to work out, it had to be late in the day after the sun had set and the cool air was starting to come with the sun's leaving or it had to be early in the morning before the rising sun started to heat up the air. So there he was, early come morning before he would head out for the trial. Things seemed to almost be getting towards a close, and Jim feared and hoped that within the next few days the trial would finally be done after so long. A month on a planet, after so long in space and on his beautiful lady, seemed forever no matter what had happened there. Even though it hadn't even been a month, Jim felt years older. There was a feeling deep inside of him that he would feel even older after the sentencing was passed, no matter what was chosen as the Romulan's fate.

He was dressed in a pair of loose shorts and a tank top, body moving gracefully over the sand as he moved through old-familiar patterns. Each movement was a block and a strike, attacks balanced behind defense and ready to turn into the other with a flex of the muscles. A twist of his knee turned his thigh in to protect his crotch then bent and up became a rapid kick to the chest of an imaginary opponent.

Who his opponent was that morning as he kicked and punched was another question, considering all that had been on his mind.

It was relaxing as much as it was a work out, because it was hard to concentrate on all the bullshit that had happened when he was concentrating on perfecting each movement, in putting all of his effort into each strike. It had gotten easier, all of it, to do with more time spent on Sha'Kwai. Jim had paused in front of the mirror that morning and wondered if he was imaging that he could see new definition in his chest, down along his ribs to his stomach, and even in his legs. It made sense, after a few seconds of thinking about it, since there were on a planet with higher gravity levels.

A skim of his foot kicked up sand as he jumped, landing neat before he kicked out again. Caught up in his routine, it was easy to miss the eyes watching his every movement.

Jim was both looking forward to it and nervous about it. They had agreed to meet the healer at a smaller hotel somewhere away from both the medical centers as well as the Federation guest quarters. It felt almost like trying to buy some back alley off-world drugs or deliver information of a disclosed nature, to the point Jim almost wanted to call it off. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he walked along side of Bones, who seemed almost as tense as he was.

Neither of them knew how this was going to go, or what the healer would even do finding out that it was three humans bonded to one Vulcan. Jim almost wanted to avoid using Spock's name, but had a feeling that would only make things about a million times worse. What made it all that much worse, at least to Jim, was he had no idea what was going to happen. He hated that helpless feeling.

He had the room number memorized - a nice larger room that they could talk and get every, or as many as possible, answer they needed so they could chose. So they could figure out the reality of the situation they were in. Jim thought about the moment in the court room, the ghostly feeling of Spock's hand on his. He hadn't even consciously known that Spock was 'listening in' on him, or just able to feel his emotions so keenly. It was disturbing as much as it had been helpful. Spock, even though they weren't talking and hadn't since he had left the house two weeks ago, had reached out to comfort him.

Honestly, he didn't know how to feel about that still. He didn't even know how Spock felt about what had happened during pon farr. Jim had acted so.. horrified about what Spock had done, but those images that still flickered about in his head, what Prime had confirmed.... Jim's Spock, Prime... they had killed Jim. In cold blood, they had killed him on the hot sands of Vulcan. Immediately after, they had been stricken, guilty, angry at themselves... was that any different than what Spock had done? Was killing any better than what had happened?

Jim sighed, glancing over to Bones. He could see a tightness in Bones' mouth, his knuckles white clenched against each other. It was about how he felt, too.

They went up to the hotel room and knocked, and Jim wasn't surprised to find out the healer had gotten there first.

The parts that came first, those were no problem. He had told the story before, complete and whole, during the single interview he had granted after the Narada incident. A hunk of that, a little more than half, had gone to purchasing the house on Risa. It would have been a better place to be, and Jim tried to keep the calm and peace of it in his mind as he told the story again. He had requested that there be no questions until he had finished the first story, whole and complete, because interrupting meant breaking the thoughts that came.

The questions were no problem as well. He had gone through them with the tribunal back on Earth in detail a million times worse than the lawyers were coming up with. Nero's defense infuriated him, in ways that were difficult to explain. How could anyone defend a man who had destroyed so much? How could someone work to get Nero and Ayel a lighter sentence? Nero was a madman. There was no punishment great enough to punish the man for what he had did. Jim couldn't reason that insanity was a reason to do what Nero had done. Just as Bones had said, he told the story, answered their questions.

It was the second part that was far more difficult.

It was more difficult to put into words to start with. He had been so heavily drugged at the time that things were unfocused in his memories, more emotion and color than actual imagery. He was grateful for the silence in the court when he had to struggle to come up with the words, less grateful (and equally, grateful somehow) for the looks of pity. Bad for him, good for the case. It was hard to keep the story in a linear fashion and not add in things he had learned later until he got that far.

When he got as far as the tattoos, the ones criss-crossing down his left arm that still remained, his voice... died in his throat. There was no sound at all, not even in his head. He stared down at the black marking of his own personal failure and grief that was still so vivid against his skin. It had been his inability to stop the drill in time that had let Vulcan be destroyed. He could have prevented it. The madman had understood, broken out of his insanity that they so wanted to use as a defense, the strength of his own pain and loss enough to divert what he had planned for that arm, whatever it was, and instead spiral the names of seven Federation ships. He had told what he knew of them, what little there was, almost like a funeral. Then... Vulcan itself. Nero had known its surface, better than Jim did except in ghostly memories of Spock's. Nero had known it for years, its people and history... then had erased it.

Nothing of all that came from his lips.

People looked between them as the silence became longer and longer, wondering why Captain Kirk had stopped in his story. It had cut off like a novel with its end missing, clearly not done. Out of respect they stayed silent, but as the silence continued it was uneasy. He was staring at his hands, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest and the blinking of his eyes. Finally, the judge leaned forward and said in a quiet tone, "...Captain?"

He wanted to find the words to answer her, but couldn't. It felt like everything that had happened was collapsing back in on himself, imploding silently in his own little world.

Then, suddenly, there was a warmth in all the coldness. A single point of light in the darkness that had come like the stinking metal-oil of the Narada's interior where hell had come to Jim. At first, Jim didn't understand it until he recognized something very small and subtle. A starry sky, light by light, started to come into view in the darkness he had focused on. Something ethereal curled through him, nudging him as determined as a pup. Spock... He knew it, almost more instinctively then consciously. It was like Spock was sitting right there, just behind him, all the warmth and certain strength of Spock's body pressed against his back, strong arms wrapped around his chest. Warmth curled over his aching hand, between his fingers, massaging the ache as a foreign love curled between cracks in his memories. It was enough to break the silence, enough strength to continue through the memories.

The story continued as if it hadn't stopped. He attempted to explain what Nero had down to write down the names of the destroyed ships as well as Vulcan, then started to write about himself using Jim's skin as his paper. Things after that got beyond blurry, after Ayel had injected him with something black (or was it bright green?)

He finished the story in sickbay, for now, because he knew nothing for days after that. Just bits and pieces. He would like them question him, he would answer, then he would tell the last part of the story. Healing, the Narada, Agura, Jim and Spock on the Narada, the Romulans on the planet, getting Nero into the brig, and how they had come to the new colony. If it was possible, the questions were worse. They kept asking for clarification about things that he had no answer to. He could tell it was frustrating, and when he went into detail about his hand being broken and his father's torture he saw one of the members of the jury actually turn their head away and gag.

By the end of the final story, by the end of their endless questions, Jim was raw. His throat was raw from speaking, his stories, the questions, the answers taking up hours of time that would be unbroken due to the circumstances of the need for privacy. His hand hurt so badly that he kept having to shake it out, but the cramp returned over and over until he wanted to scream. It felt like the tiny bones of his hand, most of them probably rebuilt from the osteoregenerator more than any original bone remaining. The scars on his face itched badly. His mind was raw from the memories of pain, anguish, and suffering, some of it not even fully his own. It was those emotions that told Jim why Jim and his Spock would never be able to understand his position. It was why there were people who were willing to risk Nero getting free. It was why...

He had lived through the destruction of Vulcan in every way possible except being on its surface. He had watched the Vulcans in sickbay, the raw emotion on their faces as their skies went dark. He had been with them, sat with them, on the limping ride home to Earth while they had none to go to.

He would have rather lived through Tarsus again then what had happened that February 11th.

When finally he was allowed to go, Jim thanked the court and walked out without looking back. Everything in him felt cold and distant and hard, very far away. Just the Captain, just for now, until he could find his mental footing again. He opened the door, and walked out into the hallway.

It had been a far, far too long day at the trial. To say that Jim's mood was shit was, at best, an understatement. There was a deep part of him that didn't believe in the idea of fair trials. It was a part of him that had lived through Tarsus IV and watched good people be killed to 'ensure' the survival of others. It was a part of him that had been the genius-level repeat offender Pike had known, that had started off in the bad eyes of the law just trying to survive. It was a part of him that still rebelled against the fact he hadn't just killed Nero.

Jim would never understand the choice he had made in his own mind to kill Nero. He was sure that Jim's universe, in many ways, was just that different than this one. Against Nero, it had been a fight. It meant survival. Listening to the defense for Nero try to get him saved under the bullshit of being insane... Jim had no doubt the Romulan was completely and utterly insane, but he also knew that Nero was a very, very smart man who had known exactly what he was doing. Nero just didn't care that it was wrong. Eye for an eye.

Bones was gone, having gotten a comm from the hospital asking for his assistance with a human patient. The look in those dark eyes, a silent Will you be okay, Jim?, had briefly broken the spell of determination, anger, guilt, and resentment that had been around Jim all day. The faintest of smiles, a touch of their hands, and Bones had left.

Now he was alone and all of it was coming back. It was something he didn't want to feel, didn't want to be acting like this and feeling like his hands were dirty. He didn't want to feel guilty about Vulcan, didn't want to feel guilty because Jim insisted it was wrong.

His hand flexed at his side, the bones hurting down deep. The ache had started early in the day, and even with Bones having to massage it out of sight of any Vulcans when it had started to cramp, it was starting all over again. Maybe a shower's heat would soak the bone out of it, but he doubted. Hadn't helped before.

Jim walked down the hall of the guest quarters, heading for his room he was sharing with Bones.

After a long night at the theater, meeting Spock and his brother, and everything afterwards, it had been difficult to sleep. Along with the tickets, Jim had received a message about the trial's start the next morning. He had refused to let it bother him all night, just wanting to enjoy some time with Bones despite everything they had been forced to go through recently.

That didn't make for good sleep, though. Sometime before dawn, Jim found himself wide awake, laying in bed, Bones curled up against his side dead asleep. It took some work to get himself out of Bones' arms, not wanting to disturbing the sleeping man, before he grabbed his discarded robe over the back of a chair and pulling it on. He brushed a kiss over Bones' hair, affectionate while no one could see it, and stepped outside.

The deck was level with the ground, so it was no trouble to walk out onto the deck and past it, out towards the beautiful area that surrounded their guest quarters. Jim had a working theory that because the Vulcans had been on a desert planet before, without the ability to use plant life because of the strain of water consumption, that now that they could they decided to use planets as much as possible. He wondered how logical it was, but decided that knowing Vulcans to a degree, they would find a way to make it logical and convince everyone else in the process. The thought made him smile, just slightly, as he found himself a low wall that faced the ocean and sat down.

It was both easier and harder to think while he watched the sun rise, watching the ripples of orange, red, and pink climb higher in the sky. So much hinged on this trial, one he would be going to each day of. He had choices to make about it, as such a major player in what had happened. He would have to explain his actions to the court and by addition, Starfleet.

Let me have done the right thing.

It hadn't been an easy decision to leave Bones behind, to go out on some wild goose chase based on a feeling he had. His body still hurt, still bore some of the worst bruises from Spock's pon farr, still wasn't caught up on sleep and food. Bones, Jim knew pretty damn well, was less than happy with him for doing this. But... he equally hoped, was pretty sure, that Bones understood it. That same something that had driven him to find the elder Spock on Delta Vega, completely unconsciously not fate, he didn't believe in that, was driving him now. Besides, he had more than one reason to find the older Vulcan. It would mean the life or death of the bond now strung painfully between the four of them, without shape or known reason and making his head throb.

As far as anyone knew, and as far as Jim could tell, no one knew who the elder Spock really was. He couldn't find any information on him, and was mostly assuming Spock was living under an assumed name. Old codger was cunning like that. Didn't make finding him any easier, and in the end he let that something guide him like a compass needle.

He guessed he was maybe fifty miles outside of the city's outer most limits, down into the wilderness they hadn't gotten into yet. The cycle had yet to be slowed down, just following wherever the instinct led him. It hummed under his thighs, slightly aggravating bruises down there but was ignored. He could still feel Spock, the youngest of the lot of Spocks, in the back of his mind but it was thankfully, mostly, distant as if Spock was concentrating on something else. The previous night hadn't been easy, but once Spock had laid off on focusing on him it had gotten better. Jim had a very determined mind to do something about that, for himself and Bones.

He turned through a pair of trees, and brought the cycle up to a hard halt as the trees suddenly dropped away to expose a clearing. Slowly, Jim smiled.

It was a beautiful looking home, blended into the area and large. It seemed almost oddly shaped, maybe a pentagon or hexagon with several of them put together, all done in earth-colored tones. He had come up along the front of the home, if Jim could guess, and other than the miles of wilderness on all sides it could have been tucked into any one of the city streets.

He pulled the cycle up near the front door, turned it off, and left it there. Not like anyone else would be coming. He had read reports that some Vulcans had turned away from the masses, deciding to trek out across the surface of the planet to live their own lives, too damaged from the mass trauma of the planet's destruction. Jim wondered how many of them he had met himself, down in sickbay and tucked into cramped rooms on the Enterprise.

Jim pressed the buzzer by the front door, knowing it was the right place to be.

Jim's body was nearing the end of its limits. He knew Bones wasn't doing much better, despite them patching each other up. Trying to get proper food in both of them had been less than easy - no replicators in the house. Sleep kept getting interrupted, and Spock was anything but gentle each time as the bond was getting tighter and tighter.

He could feel Spock in his head all the time, now. It made him uncomfortable, twitchy, and almost nauseous. This thing he hadn't asked for, didn't want.

He sat on the edge of the bed in the second bedroom, staring at the wall. Bones was asleep behind him, a slow deep breathing, and thank fuck so was Spock. Spock had passed out beside Nyota hours and hours ago, and Jim had taken it to try and sleep beside Bones.

...Except he couldn't. Too much was going through his head, over and over on replay. His head throbbed, like a muscle that had been over-exercised. The feeling of something... that feeling of something... it was clearer, now.

He knew he had to answer it, soon. He planned to talk to Bones when he woke up. There was... a lot they needed to talk about.

(OOC: Going to have to explain this one! This is a Fourth Wall event for today only! ANYONE can talk to the crew of our little ST game on this post... but it has to be IN CHARACTER! Get on any RP account you want to talk to us on, Star Trek or not. It can be through the comm system (so cell phones/phones, magic, etc) which is voice-only or audio and visual depending on what you want to do! This is a big thank you to the mods over at Mayfield who are throwing the same event, and that Kirk has been happily invading, and we're just going to join in some fun for ourselves.

For the actual RP crew here: leave a comment with your name below if you want to jump in on this little OOC/IC event. Nothing that happens here will be taken into the game-proper, just some for-fun today like the pirate event!)