James T. Kirk

Getting the comm from the transporter room had been a bit of a surprise. Someone new? ...Just what they needed. Kirk looked over the lists in front of him with a small sigh of worry. They were already having to keep up with so many new people, and Starfleet already had issues with them...

As soon as the buzzer sounded he straightened up and called out, "Come in."

Kirk left sickbay with a dark look on his face. Someone had given Emma drugs. Someone put a woman in a god damn coma because they gave her drugs without thinking about it. What had Bones told him?

It's not a heavy narcotic, that hydronol, but it's not just thrown around. It's serious sedation for people with real insomnia problems.

Serious sedation. This wasn't some pansy ass drug, this was something someone needed a prescription for. Fuck Alex, why the hell did you need to pull this shit now... He slid a hand through his hair, thinking fast. Kowalski.

Kirk pulled out his comm, thinking on his feet as he moved, "Captain to Kowalski."

Kirk dropped his padd with a snapped curse, glaring at the dark surface for a moment before rubbing a hand over his face. He knew he had to meet with Green at some point, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Spock did paperwork entirely differently then he did, and in a different system, and he felt incredibly back logged. Harold, need you more then ever, man... He thought unhappily, thinking about the once-displaced accountant from the 21st century. Hope you're back there, now. He murmured in his own mind. He stared at the mess on the desk and sighed.

He touched a spot on the surface and watched the desk light up. His fingers swiftly brought up his schedule for the day - absolutely fucking packed, of course, because he had been gone so long and was unable to even tell Spock what to start with. With tiny flicking gestures he began to re-arrange things to open up some time to talk with Green.

After apologizing for rescheduling at least four other meetings around the ship, he had opened up an hour. Kirk tapped out a note and sent it over to Green, hoping he was disrupting the man's lunch or something else equally mischievous, and got back to his work.

Kirk walked silently from the party, his stomach churning violently. He didn't stop at anything, not even quiet comments in the hall directed towards him. He walked straight towards the bridge, needing it in a way he didn't even fully realize himself. It was his place to center himself.

When he got up to the bridge, there were only two people there. One who was keeping track of space around them and making sure their orbit stayed steady, and the other was on the communications console, looking bored. He gave a thin smile to both, "At ease, if you would." He gave a gesture with his head, "Fifteen minutes, please."

They got the clue at least, and within the minute, the bridge was his. Alone, silent except for the beeping of the consoles around him. Kirk took a long, deep breath and walked across the bridge, fingers caressing as he went along chairs and consoles until he sat down in his chair.

God dammit, his ass groove felt off.

After a few squirms, Kirk settled down into the faux leather and closed his eyes. It felt like being home. This was his home, now. This ship, this bridge, this seat. He let himself just... sit. Breathe.

When he felt himself relax, almost half asleep, he realized something he had to do. "Computer. Last known date and time when Yeoman Harold Lee was aboard this ship."

"Last known scan of Yeoman Harold Lee - One week, two days, sixteen hours, and forty-two minutes."

Kirk's heart fucking stopped in his chest. He knew it wasn't keeping exact track of any one person on the ship so that number wasn't quite right but... but... How could someone have been off the ship for so long and no one noticed!?

He dropped his head into his hands and let out a small sound. Because of me. They were so worried about George and me that no one even noticed.

"Computer. At my location, give me a list of all transports on or off the ship in the last two weeks." It took only moments to bring up things he already knew, and a few he didn't, but none of them were unknown to the ship or had been marked as safe. (Another one to the Narada... he hated it.)

Harold Lee had not been beamed off this ship, but wasn't on it anymore. "Fuck." He whispered, leaning back in the chair, trying to think. Harold was from another universe to begin with... could he have ended up back there? Could Harold still have his padd? Would sending a message work? So, Kirk gave it a shot. it wasn't a huge surprise when within seconds he received a message saying the padd was unreachable.

...Harold, be okay. Fuck. If he wasn't beamed off, and a quick check said no shuttles had come or gone except Ephram Green's... there seemed little other reason. Fuck. He needed to talk to Spock about this...

Spock. Fuck. Another thing he didn't know how to deal with.

The other Spock was dealing with Nero and the Narada... Bones had his mother and daughter to deal with...

Kirk opened his eyes and looked around the empty bridge, and winced. This was home, but right now, he couldn't be here.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to no one, feeling frustrated. He gave a loving stroke over the armrest of his chair, then left the bridge entirely. In the morning, he could deal with everything, including Harold, including Spock, including Bones.

Wasn't this party supposed to have been restful and fun, or something similar?

Kirk went up to his room, stripped down, tugged the mask off, and just fell face forward into his bed. Just want to sleep.