James T. Kirk

It was so heavily backlogged. Messages, paperwork, reports, news - all of it was backlogged. Kirk had holed himself up in his office, trying to get through it all. Okay, the paperwork was at least not seriously backlogged and he saw Spock's hand in that. Spock was good at that sort of thing, even if Kirk wasn't entirely surprised to see some things hadn't been done. The internal complaints and notices were personal touches that Kirk liked to do himself instead of shuffling it off to someone else and Spock wasn't the sort of person to do that.

So he sat at his desk, chewing on the end of a stylus as he read the latest complaint. It was someone going on about the lack of space on the ship and having to bunk up with someone else. He groaned to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Grow up, he thought at the officer in question and gave a quick reply back that was the professional version of 'suck it up'. The officer, Kirk had to admit, did have a point. There were just too many people on the ship now. They were over their short-term limit of crew, and he had already gone through several complaints from Starfleet itself about the rising cost of keeping the over-crewed Enterprise in food, supplies, and pay.

It was a choice he had to make. The stylus slid from between his teeth and he tapped it on the desk, staring down at the console in front of him. He nudged aside a report with a swipe of his finger and drew up a new document. This one would be going straight to the big wigs in Starfleet. He kept it short and sweet, without going into serious details.

It was a request to lighten the crew of the Enterprise by removing crew and transferring them to other ships. In a way, Kirk hated to do it. He knew people had signed on with the ship because of its fame, of him, of Spock, of Bones... and had stayed despite some serious issues already with the time-whatever was happening. There was just no choice. He figured the smallest amount of people he could get away with was about 80 people. It would free up a huge chunk of space and let people spread back out into single rooms instead of being forced to bunk up. It would also leave some more spare rooms, along with the twenty or so that were regulation to keep open for emergencies (which they seemed to be one giant emergency half the time anymore).

Sent, Kirk switched to the next document. One thing that he hated to do but he had little choice was in dealing with leave requests, either it was a straight out 'no' until they dealt with Nero and Ayel, or it was a 'request granted, but'. He wanted to be able to give them an 'of course, go ahead, you deserve it' but it was impossible right now with everything happening.

He had saved one set of documents for last, and with a sigh got to those. It was all stuff having to do with the Romulans.

What he started reading just about stopped his heart in his chest. What the fuck!? Nero had hurt himself (tried to kill himself!?) in his cell with a knife. How did the Romulans have any weaponry!? Kirk's fingers flew as he pulled up his orders to the head of security (dammit, Alex...) and he re-read it. There, down in the second paragraph. The Romulans were supposed to be searched, if security had to stun them to do it. Either Security had issues with knowing what a weapon was, or no one had gotten the balls together to search them.

Chapel had ended up going into the cell to save Nero's life (or heal him...). Kirk's eyes narrowed and he felt his teeth grind together. Immediately he sent out a message.

To: Christine Chapel (headnursechapel)
Nurse Chapel,

I need to speak to you in my office immediately unless you're in surgery.

Captain Kirk

He had to get more information on what had happened down in that cell. If he thought that was bad, it just got worse. He read about the Narada being on board, talking to her masters. Shit, shit... As if all of it couldn't get worse. He read Starfleet's orders for them to go straight to the New Vulcan Colony, and his brows vanished into his hairline. It made sense, of course, as the Vulcans were the ones the most hurt by Nero's actions.

There was someone on the colony he needed to talk to. Wanted to talk to. It made his heart beat flutter in his chest in a strange mixture of knowing, wanting. Spock, the one that had started it all, had never fully left him. Too many memories, emotions... left behind too many questions. Maybe he could get answers to them.

It would also be the site of Nero's trial, Kirk could only assume. He wondered how it would be worked out to try someone like this. Note, go back and read any history I can get on any sort of similar situation. He wanted to go into a trial prepared with what might happen, what they could ask of him, the story he would have to tell (again, with tons of additionals).

He already started to schedule a meeting with security for after his talk with Chapel. Heads would roll for what happened down in the brig. He saw a mention of Jim going down there with the Narada - he'd have to talk to Jim too.

To: James Kirk (original_fine)
Jim,

I need to speak to you in my office immediately about the Romulans.

JTK

He was going to find out what the hell was going on with his ship, before they got to the Vulcan Colony. How does a week as a kid end up with everything breaking down without me there? ...I think I need to talk to Spock.

To: Spock (cso_spock)
Spock,

As soon as you can, I need to talk to you in my office about what happened while you were acting captain.

JTK

(OOC: This actually occurs after his escape from sickbay but before the party. Yay timeline fuckery!)

Somehow, he had made it back to their rooms. What had happened in the hallway... Kirk shuddered, full body, and staggered towards the bathroom. It required sitting on the toilet and both hands to be able to get off his boots, whole body shaking with the effort. When had he gotten so weak? He had been through beatings before... he shucked pants and shirts and turned to get into the shower.

He caught his reflection in the mirror.

Kirk's body, his entire world, froze in time. He stepped forward once, twice, staggering on shaking legs. He grasped at the edge of the sink and all of his weight leaned on it as he stared in horror at what stared back at him.

He looked like shit. Heavy bags under his eyes, a stubble growing that he never let grow. The tattoos were brilliant in their freshness, the edges crisp. He had been rubbing at them, rubbing off dirty brown, and now understood. He knew exactly what those words and markings meant. The lives carved into his skin.

Nero had kept a part of him behind.

Kirk couldn't feel his body shaking, couldn't take his eyes away from his own face. He saw it. Traces of green and blue and orange, so orange... everything else was black. Even the blood was black. Gleaming and black, dripping down the edge of the table, his father screaming screaming screaming...

His own scream echoed the one in his head and he slammed his fist into the mirror, cracking it. Designed not to shatter. It twisted his face, cracking it, displacing it.

He staggered back from the mirror and groped at the opaque glass of the shower until it opened and fell against the back wall, sinking down. He reached up, fingers sliding across the controls, and water fell. It was freezing at first, then got hotter, hotter... until it felt like it was burning. Kirk just buried his head against his knees, remembering.

The private communication from Spock had come as a surprise. So now curious and concerned, Kirk waited in his quarters for Spock to come. What could Spock need to talk about so urgently that, evidently, had something to do with the fucking orgy they had had together?