kirktastic | Entries tagged with not too sure how this will go

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.

Current Location: NVC

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.

Current Location: NVC

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.

Current Location: NVC Courtroom

After everything that had happened the last few days, whatever had infected him and boiled his blood on top of his stress about the new bond and the trial... Jim was starting to fall back into bad habits Bones had been trying to break of him for years. He didn't want to eat as it only added to the cramping in his stomach, and sleep... it either didn't come, or it came in fits.

There was just too much in his head, spinning endlessly. He sat there on the deck, back up against the wall of the building, with a PADD half propped up in his lap. Why did Vulcans have to be so damn exclusive about things? It was making his search for a healer, something to try and help them figure out what they needed to know about, and what they could do about, the bond. The last thing he needed was information spreading out about what had happened with Spock, honestly wasn't even happy with the idea of being caught going to the healer at all. Caught? What am I, sneaking out of the house? Jim almost laughed to himself.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, thinking. There had to be a way. Bones probably could contact someone, maybe even knew someone who could find someone else, but it had to be someone... they could trust. Maybe, more specifically, someone Jim could trust. This all felt too much like having to go see a psych. Way, way too much like having to see a psych. He'd have to talk to Bones about it, and they'd have to figure it out together. It was the only real chance they had to go about this without half of the planet and the media knowing, at least in Jim's mind.

He didn't want to have to think about what was coming up for the day. They had passed along the information along to him... he would be testifying today. The sheer idea of it had his stomach curling up on itself, the bones in his hand threatening to scream at him. He didn't want to sleep; the idea of nightmares about all that had happened were worse than the nightmares themselves.

At least the sunsets were beautiful on Sha'Kwai. The sunrises, coming up over the ocean, were more so.

He got up and put the PADD side, walking down to the sands and down the sands to the beach and down the beach to the water. He dropped his robe just outside of the water's range, then stepped into the lukewarm water. It felt like almost neutral-temperatured water, like a bath left too cool. He dove into the water.

(OOC: This is running on the premise that the trial was postponed for two days until the sexpop was dealt with, as well as this happens after a tread that will be coming up.)

Current Location: NVC

(OOC: This happens during the SPF thread, but we decided to make it a new post so it didn't get lost.)

It took time to get Jim to come back into his own head. Spock had gotten in there, deep as could be, and blew everything apart. At least that was what the headache pounding in his head told him. He could feel Spock curled up beside him, and something told him that Spock was asleep. He didn't question it, didn't have the mind to even think twice about it. It hurt too bad, and there was something he had to do.

He had smelled Bones on Spock. Faint, he didn't even want to know the extent of it, but he could smell it. Bones was here. Jim conjured images of Spock attacking Bones like Spock had attacked him. Taking Bones... the entire thing made his stomach churn.

He wondered what time it was. Was it still the same day?

Jim forced himself up out of the bed, every muscle in his body complaining, straining. He didn't dare look down at himself, because he had no doubt in his head that he was... disgusting. Mottled in bruises too. Didn't matter, didn't fucking matter. If Bones was here...

Without looking back, Jim walked (limped, crawled, something not dignified that he was choosing not to think about) out of the room. He was grateful when Spock didn't stir. Sorry, Nyota. Can you keep Spock busy while I find out if he raped Bones? It made a quiet, ~~not~~ hysterical sound bubble out of his throat, and Jim walked through the house and looked in one bedroom (nothing there), then the second.

There he saw a body curled in the shadows of the bed.

Jim walked into the room, and croaked out, "Bones?" It barely even came out as a word and far more a sound. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside Bones, reaching out to touch his hair.

Swallow, try again. "Bones?" Whisper.

Current Location: Spock's Sha'Kwai Home

Bones and Jim left the Captain's office soon after the surprise meeting with Emma and David. From the moment the older pair left the office Bones hadn't spoken, just nodded in response to Jim's suggestion that they return to their room. They were both quiet in the turbolift, and made it inside their room before either man uttered a word.

Bones headed over to the bed and flopped down face forward. He grabbed a pillow and pulled it under his head, wrapping his arms around it. Jim stood just inside the closing door and unlike his usual self, had no idea what to do or say. Jim could remember that night long ago when Bones had reeked of cheap bourbon and cigarettes and wept a few hot tears. It was the only time Jim could remember Bones ever having cried in his presence. Looking back, it had been heartbreaking and awkward and it hadn't gotten any better since.

Jim walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, slid his hand across Bones' back and remembered making the same clumsy gesture in the dark of their dorm room. The difference was this time it didn't feel awkward to let his hand curl under Bones' opposite side and lay down beside him. The words didn't come any easier, they stayed lodged somewhere between his heart and his mind so instead he let his actions speak for him. His lips found the back of Bones' neck, just where the tiny sensitive hairs ended and the skin of his back began. A silent gesture that said I'm here.

Bones shivered at the touch, turning into Jim's arms and pulling him close. He buried his face in Jim's neck, unconsciously rocking a little in his arms as they held each other. Eventually he let out a deep sigh. "I don't know, Jim. I just don't know anymore."

Jim nodded as much as the space between his chin and the top of Bones' head would allow. His voice was barely a murmur as he said, "I know." After a small silence, Jim followed up with, "I took you off shift for the rest of the night."

His hands finding the small of Jim's back, Bones grunted a soft "Thanks," and pulled Jim even closer still. "My dad's alive," he whispered into the side of Jim's head. "Both of them are here. I just don't know what to think."

"No one expects you to know what to think. It's not like ever been a report of people coming back from the dead before. I think this is one of those things that you just have to take one day at a time. At least you and your dad went out on good terms." Jim could remember though, what Bones had said that drunken night. Something about his dad -... fucked that up to. Jim's next words were a little more cautious, as he added, "...at least as far as I know. You never did tell me what happened between you two."

Bones slid a hand up to thread in Jim's hair as his body stiffened. Fingers tightened on the hem of Jim's shirt as Bones finally spoke. "I killed him."

What? Jim quickly started to calculate and came up with that Bones had to have been somewhere between 26 and 28 when his dad had died. "W-what do you mean, you killed him?" Despite Bones' sometimes gruff manner, and his affinity for hypos and the painful application of them, Bones was the last person Jim would have pegged to be a potential killer. Hadn't he said something like that just the other day?

The voice Bones used was surprisingly calm, talking as if he were relating some story. "He was sick. Dying, really. Didn't want him to suffer, so..." A long shuddering sigh escaped as he relaxed a little in Jim's arms. "So one afternoon I said good-bye and filled him full of cyalodin. Stopped his heart."

"So you stopped your dad from suffering, by killing a man who was already dying anyway? Isn't that the point of what doctors do, they ease people's suffering?" Even as the words left his mouth, Jim realized the words didn't sound as sympathetic as he had meant them. "Um- I mean, did he ask you to do it, or did you decide on your own?"

"He asked me to do it," Bones answered, in that same strange voice.

"So you carried out his final wish?" Jim said, a little confused. Then he felt Bones begin to shake, heard his breath hitching, and before he knew what was happening he heard Bones let out a soft sob and Jim felt something wet against his neck.

Oh fuck. I made him cry. Jim wrapped his arms around Bones, not making mention of it at all. He knew if he started to cry in front of Bones, he wouldn't want Bones to make a big deal of it either. Instead, he closed his eyes, pressed his lips against the top of Bones' head, and let him get it out.

It was several minutes before Bones let go of the tight grip he had on Jim. After a while, though, he got and headed into the bathroom. Jim could hear the water turn on, and Bones blowing his nose. Soon he returned back to the bed and sat down with a sigh next to Jim. "...sorry 'bout that," he said, sniffing as he nudged Jim's knee with his own and looked embarrassed.

"Don't worry 'bout it." Jim gave Bones a little smile. He reached over and gave Bones' knee a small squeeze, not a whole lot more needed to be said between them. He looked at Bones, and not wanting to make this any worse than it already was, Jim decided to change the subject. "Before Emma and David showed up I was getting kinda hungry. Want me to bring you back something?" he asked, thinking Bones might need a little time to himself.

A slow nod from Bones' direction. "Yeah," he said quietly, looking over at Jim, his eyes still a little red and swollen. "Just some soup or something, nothing big." He returned the smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks, Jim. For everything."

Jim turned to Bones and leaned in close. Cupping his cheek with one hand, he ran his thumb gently under Bones' eye, as if wiping away a lingering tear. "Sure thing. I'll be back before you know it." He watched as Bones lay back down, arms wrapped around a pillow, Jim felt his heart pound in his chest. What else did the world have in store for Bones? Why did it seem to get some gleeful pleasure out of making him suffer over and over again?

Those were the thoughts that plagued Jim as he left the quarters he shared with Bones. The thoughts followed him as he made his way down toward the mess hall. Over the last few months it seemed that Bones could not catch a break.

All of those thoughts must have been on his face as he walked down the hall, but all of them seemed to vanish the moment that Sam came into view.

Current Location: Kirk and Bones' Quarters then Sam's Quarters

The beeping came suddenly from off from the side of his desk where he sat in his office. For a second Kirk was grateful that no one was in there with him as he jumped, just a little startled. Grabbing his comm and flipping it open, Kirk got out "Hello" before realizing it was only an alert.

The alert was coming from Jim's communicator, down there on the planet, trapped with Nero. Knowing that Jim had managed to sneak out two messages before, a small shiver of worry passed through him as he realized what only an alert could mean. It had to be a warning that something was happening - something that Jim couldn't sneak away to tell him. Considering the circumstances, there were very few things that the warning could have been. Kirk could only hope that getting out this warning wasn't putting Jim's life in danger.

Kirk thought about what George had said the other night. The idea had gotten stuck in his head - transported against their will. He had thought about it, laying in bed at night when he couldn't sleep. Could there be a way to do just that? To transport not only Jim and Spock, but the Romulans as well? If something was happening right now, something that Jim thought was worthwhile enough to have to warn him about, then maybe it was their only chance. He had a good feeling that whatever was taking place wouldn't give him much time to think this over.

Just as Kirk started to get out of his chair, the computer spoke to him as simultaneously a red alert appeared on the console before him. Sensors indicate the Narada is no longer aboard this ship. Repeat - sensors indicate the Narada is no longer aboard this ship. Kirk felt a cold fear run down his spine as he stared at the diagram of the Enterprise the computer automatically pulled up. It showed the Narada's last known location in Jim's quarters with the single red dot disappearing and reappearing over and over again.

With that in mind, Kirk found himself rushing down toward the nearest transporter room, with his comm still in hand. "Captain to Lt Commander Scott - Captain to Lt Commander Scott!" When Scotty didn't reply fast enough, Kirk snapped off a curse and hit the transporter room at a dead run. Kirk looked to the startled ensign behind the controls. "Ensign - the last known coordinates of the Narada should still be in the system, pull them up for me," Kirk said quickly as he slid in behind another console. His fingers flew over the screen, and using the coordinates the ensign pulled up, he scanned for information about the Narada.

The Enterprise's powerful scanners swept across where the Narada lay dormant on the surface of the planet below. To his utter amazement, the powerful shielding that had not only protected the Narada from every attack they had launched her way but kept them from doing something like this before was down, as if it had never been. To his greatest fear, Kirk could also see that her power levels, which had previously been so low, were now quickly picking up. That had to be it. That had to be what Jim was warning him about. The Romulans had done exactly as they feared - they had managed to not only locate but mine up the dilithium without the use of the plasma drill Kirk had helped destroy.

There was no time to think about what he had to do or talk to any other officer if this was the right course of action. Kirk looked to the confused ensign beside him and said, "Prepare - four to beam up." The computer recognized Jim and Spock's signatures immediately - it was Nero and Ayel's that Kirk had to locate. It wasn't hard, there seemed to be little else in the immediate area around the Narada. The mining must have scared everything off, Kirk thought to himself off-handedly. He had no doubt that every second counted. After all, it was impossible to say how long it would take for the Narada to get her shields back up.

Kirk hadn't realized he was holding his breath until the computer finally located Nero and Ayel's signatures. Something else that George had said came into his mind. He wasn't sure that Stockholm Syndrome was the right term for it but Kirk understood what his father meant. He didn't know how Jim and Spock would react to what he planned to do. With that in mind, he carefully divided the instructions to the transporter. Spock and Jim would be sent the conference room on Deck A. He instructed the computer to lock the door on the conference room and put his own personal code as the clearance needed for the lock.

The next set of instructions were a little more difficult to do in such a hurry. Choosing two open rooms in the brig, he set each one to its highest level of security. Only the captain would be able to lower the force field that separated the Romulans from the rest of the ship. Knowing the anger he had seen in Spock's eyes, and knowing the revenge in some people's hearts, even in his own, Kirk had to ensure that his crew was protected from Nero, and Nero from his crew. I'll need to speak with Security myself, Kirk thought quickly as he typed.

As he finished the last of the instructions to the computer, with the transporter locked on the four life signatures below, Kirk could only hope that he was doing the right thing. He looked to the ensign beside him and nodded only once. "Energize."

Current Location: Kirk's Office - Transporter Room

Kirk went down to Uhura's quarters after he received her message. He buzzed at her door, feeling... unsure. He wanted to know what happened on the away mission, and he wanted to know she was okay. He heard that the group had arrived hurt...

He slid a hand through his door, nerves on edge. Things were already going like crap on ship... this was the last thing he needed, but he had to. He was the Captain, and he was her friend... he wanted to know.

Current Location: Nyota's Quarters

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.

Current Location: Bridge, then Kirk's Quarters

After meeting with the others, the only person left to talk with about his idea was Spock. Honestly, a part of him was more worried about his ideas on this more then any of the others simply because he understood Spock the least. His dealings about command and captaincy would take some work with Jim, but something told him that he could definitely trust Jim's judgment on things - after all, the man had run this very similar but more experienced crew for years. It would, in essence, be making something that was almost first officer but not. How would Spock take to that? Should Spock, ~~his~~ this universe's Spock, be superior to Jim in the chain of command? Equal? Lesser?

( The sort of stuff they needed to talk about, for sure. )

Current Location: Kirk's Office

When the morning came, it was all too soon. Kirk woke in the darkness all at once, laying there for several minutes. He stared at the ceiling in the darkness, listening to the hum of the ship, the silence that came from the darkest hours before a dawn that would never come. It was freezing in the room, just like he liked it, yet he still felt impossibly hot. Bones was, thankfully, curled off on the other side of the bed, back to Kirk. It allowed him to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, burying his head into his hands. Fuck, it had been a while since he had dreamed of that. His stomach was pitching, clenching.

Just because of this fucking meeting. Stressed out, that's all. Kirk shook his head, standing up and tucking the sheets back in. He glanced to Bones, still curled up asleep, and smiled just slightly. Least one thing didn't go wrong.

( Until he looked at the chronometer. Fuck. )

Current Location: Kirk's Office

I wish I even knew where to start writing, so I suppose this is the best beginning I can offer for now. There's too much to talk about, things I have a feeling I'm already forgetting. Risa seemed to do that, to capture everything that there was about the entire vacation and keep it there, taking it away from me. Like already, I'm forgetting stuff about hat happened there. Little things, like the exact color of the ocean, the shades of the sunset I sat and watched with Bones, exactly which star I pointed out to Spock. All together... I think I want to buy that little place Bones and I rented. You know, make it our place that we can go when we get a chance for shoreleave.

( ...Maybe not. Fucking sounds like I'm trying to settle down or something. Still, I kinda like the idea. )

Current Location: Kirk's Office

There had been an idea brewing in Kirk's mind for several days, something half-focused on in the wee hours of the morning on Risa but unable to fully develop. So, finally, when the idea came into focus (at least the verbal concept of it), Kirk made his way down to engineering. He had a definite idea in mind on not only this, but on how to get to know and bring into the crew the strange other-verse Scotty that had ended up as a part of their crew.

It wasn't hard to find the young man, greet him, hide his amusement at Scotty refusing to call him Jim despite them both being off duty, and ask the young Scotsman if he wanted to take a walk through engineering. Okay, maybe he couldn't completely hide the bullshit grin on his face. He wanted this to work. He didn't know if it could be accomplished, but if it could...

( So tell me something. You been exploring Engineering? )

Current Location: Enterprise

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?

Current Location: Kirk's Quarters

Kirk slipped into the bar, glancing around the cool interior, and grinned to himself. Off to have a drink with a woman that could potentially be baiting to kill him. Seemed to be the story of his life. Kirk took a seat up at the bar, and kept his eyes peeled for the beautiful woman from another universe.