kirktastic: ((Captain) Pay your respects.)


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.
kirktastic: ((Captain) Pay your respects.)
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.
kirktastic: ((Kirk/Bones) Always watching out for me.)
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.)
kirktastic: (Default)
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.

[Birthdays]

Jan. 4th, 2010 08:12 pm
kirktastic: ((Drinking) Fuck I needed that.)
"Here's to you, here's to me, the best of friends we'll ever be, but if we should ever trouble see, to hell with you and here's to me!"

Jim could remember being in bars for his birthday, some dark corner where he could forget what day it was. The day his life began and ended. It had began with his first breath... and seconds later, a huge part of it ended when his father's ship hit the Narada. His birthday was one of the most famous days in recent history... enough that people got off as a holiday. It was the day he hated most each year.

He could remember when he was little, only a child. It was the only birthday he could remember when his mother was actually there for. He could remember being very excited about it, because Frank didn't celebrate them. Sam did, a little... Jim had a small collection of brother-made gifts in the room they shared. Mom (a fuzzy image of a pretty woman with blond hair) would be there. They would have fun. He had seen other parties during his few years, when he was in school and invited to a friend's house. It involved colored paper and friends and gifts and laughing and cake.

But Mom came... and there was no pretty paper, no man with bright hair and a big red nose, no group of friends. It had been a tiny party - just the four of them. Winona had made a cake, or so he had thought. Years later, he would figure out she bought it from a store. He couldn't remember the gifts given, but remembered it being one of his good memories of childhood... followed by sadness.

It had been very late at night. A tiny Jim Kirk had needed to rest the bathroom and had snuck out of his bedroom. On the way to the bathroom though... he had heard something in the living room. He padded on silent feet to the living room and poked his head around the doorframe, knowing he'd get in trouble for being up. He didn't understand it as a child, seeing Winona staring out the window upwards with wetness on her cheeks and looking sad.

He had gone to the bathroom and curled up in bed again, feeling sad too. Birthdays were supposed to be happy days, not sad days. Mommy was usually sad...

Birthdays weren't happy things, not in his house.

He touched the alcohol to his lips, his eyes closing. Here's to me.

One drink is all he'd allow himself. He had taken his shift, spent some time on the bridge, paperwork in his office... and now just in his room, waiting for Bones to get off duty. The idea of fucking Bones, or getting fucked, sounded good.

But... someone else's birthday was coming up. Jim smirked at the idea. Maybe he could convince Bones and maybe Nyota... to make a little special party for Spock.
kirktastic: ((Kirk/Spock) Never Far Apart.)
When he had a chance, Kirk did something he had to do. He slipped silently down to sickbay, and to the room where Spock had hidden himself. He punched in his override code, and slipped into the room. It was dim in the room... but never dark. Kirk had seen Spock's rooms - it was darker in his quarters then here. It was warm, and already he could feel himself starting to sweat.

Slowly he crossed the room, eying the sleeping Vulcan. Spock was curled up on his bed, his head in his hands. Kirk walked over to the edge of the bed, frowning. There was a bottle of vitamins and an empty glass of water on the table beside the bed. Kirk grabbed that and went into the bathroom, filling it up, sitting it back on the table.

Spock looked... messy. That wasn't normal. His hair was messy, and... Kirk was surprised to see a faint scruff on his jaw. As he watched, he saw Spock ... move. Almost like a wince.

He wiped his brow and sighed, leaning over the bed. "...worried about you." He whispered, brushing his fingertips over Spock's temple, through his hair. "Gotta wake up at the end of all of this. Not just for me... for Nyota, even for Bones."

He leaned over and touched his forehead against the side of Spock's head. I'm here for ya. You're not alone. You let me know... when you're gonna wake up, and I'll be here.
kirktastic: (Default)
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.
kirktastic: ((Injured) This hurts less then it looks.)
Kirk cracked his neck, staring at the bag in front of him. He had a dinner with Bill tonight, and a lot of time between waking and then to waste how he saw fit. He hated sick leave, and with Bones' permission to be off it only a day away, he felt even more restless then normal. So now he was down in the gym, a tee shirt on his body and loose shorts, hands and feet wrapped in tape to keep the skin from getting damaged.

It felt natural to slide into the familiar fighting stance. Front foot pointing at the bag, back foot tilted slightly to the side, knees bent, one fist up and loose and the second about his stomach and loose as well. The muscles knew this pose, fell into it with ease, and seemed to relax all at once. It was something he could do even when blasted drunk, already injured, or half-asleep. And had before.

The first punch was something easy, a quick strike that barely rocked the bag. He was already warmed up, body loosened up from stretches and a run around the gym. Speed. That is what determines the winner, but if you have no bite behind your bark, your opponent may get a strike in slower but with greater strength. It was an older voice in his head, a man he hadn't thought of in years. It had been the first place he had found some semblance of a place to live after Tarsus IV.

He started to talk, immensely grateful that he could get the back most of the gym's smaller rooms. The mat felt new and springy under his feet as he let loose with punch after punch to the bag. Who gave a shit if his log had grunts and the sound of skin against the punching bag?

"So, fuck everything. Let's start off with that," Kirk growled, feet slipping to the side as if he was going against a real opponent. "Still fighting with Jim, and I hate it. Feels like fighting with myself or something. Maybe I am and Jim is just really my conscience," PUNCH, twist, round kick, "That's what he feels like. There's so much going on that I feel like I'm out of the loop. I need to talk to Spock about ship stuff and what happened after the Halloween Party. I don't think it'll be awkward crew wise," KICK, "But..." He hesitated.

"I wish I knew what I felt about that." Kirk shook his head, "Not like me to feel something about sex except when it was with Bones, and even then not all the time. Fuck, that makes me sound like an asshole. I don't want it to mean something. ...Guess it meant something with Jim, too. Feels like he's judging me based on this. What does he know? He's been through a lot of stuff, can't not admit that, but not on this scale. He's apart from it, you know? When he goes home," Why did that make his stomach clench? "When he finally goes back, Vulcan'll be there. Spock'll still have his sky, and the Federation will still be scarred here."

Kirk sucked on his front teeth for a second, then moved lighting fast. His entire body jerked to the side and his knee came up, foot snapping out and striking the bag with the bottom arch of his foot. The entire bag rocked, threatening to fall over, then steadied, "Can't wait to get back on duty. I hate feeling useless and I do right now. I'm really sick of looks of pity when I walk through the hall. I need to get these tattoos off but..."

He stopped, looking down at his left hand. The tape covered Vulcan. "...Maybe... not all of them. Think I'm going to keep some of them, and I have a feeling Bones is going to bitch at me for it." He brushed his other thumb over the tape, then shook it off and went to work against the bag at twice the speed. Point was to exhaust himself. "So many new people on this ship that it's actually getting hard to find space for them all. ...Bones' mom is one of them. New ship psych? At least as close as we've got beside Bones himself."

"Speaking of, I got the final bit of Bones' Christmas gift in. Got it hidden away... plan to surprise the hell out of him. Least I'm pretty sure he'll like it. Can't believe all the holidays, the new year... just a month or so away," Kirk snorted and struck out again, "Is it bad that I fucking hate that we'll be celebrating when Jake and Rachael and Kat won't be? They were supposed to be here, on the 'prise... got transferred at the last second to the Farragut and the Odyssey. Now... they're all dead. Probably should of thought of this on Halloween."

Kirk stepped back from the back, panting. He rubbed a bit of sweat from his eyes, "Nero's still out there, in that black hunking ship of his. Part of it is on the 'prise and I want it off and Spock back here. Wanna get done with those two bastards and have everyone free of them. Me, this crew, the Federation, and all the universes they've seemed to completely fuck up." He growled a little, hitting the bag half heartedly.

"Wish it was his face under my fist."

His next strike sent the bag toppling over.
kirktastic: ((Chair) This is ma big chair.)
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.
kirktastic: ((Injured) This hurts less then it looks.)
(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.
kirktastic: ((Sleep - Calm) Good night's sleep finall)
The room he had been put into was dimly lit and stifling. The dim lighting was highly preferred to the brilliant white of sickbay proper, but it felt like it was closing in on him. Thanks to Spock, or so he was fairly sure he had told his request to, the drugs keeping his brain from functioning had been taken away or at least decreased severely.

He could think, but he could also hurt.

When Bones had come into the room last, he could very vaguely remember something about his hand. The heat Spock put out had feel so good on his left hand, but despite the fact that the hand looked... somewhat normal... (considering it was still slightly swollen and the tattoos showed vividly), it hurt. It felt stiff and awkward and clumsy in a way that made him nervous or scared the shit out of him.

Okay, so maybe they were still drugging him at least a little.

The constant unmatched beeps of the heart monitors was starting to drive him insane, at least when he was awake. His own was normal (he was pretty sure?) but... his father's... that one was slow, so slow, and scared the hell out of him. Bones hadn't told him anything about George (had he even asked?) and so he knew nothing at all, only that his father looked like he was in a coma.

What had Nero done?
kirktastic: ((Sleep - Troubled) No rest for the weary)
(OOC: The song I was listening to while typing this.)

When they had returned to Earth, it was to madness. News had traveled far faster then they ever could have on impulse power. Earth and all of its people were grieving the loss of Vulcan, the ships that had been destroyed by the Narada, and the thousands of people that had been on those ships by the time they had finally gotten back with a formal escort. Kirk had immediately banned anyone from transporting up to the ship - only off until he gave the word. It hadn't lasted terribly long, they had told him to report immediately after all, but he didn't want to leave until he was sure everyone else was off. He had walked his empty ship until he had found Bones, tucked away in transport room one. Together, they had gone down to the space station.

It had been madness there. Reporters in thousands, security in red trying to hold them back, trying to get information. Kirk had said nothing, just held his head high and walked to the relay transporter down to Earth where the same thing occurred when he took his first breath of non-recycled air. Still he said nothing until he got into the large room with the Board.

It had been silence there. Kirk had stood for five hours and forty six minutes, his body aching and starving, until he had wanted to scream. Even after time in sickbay, he was still sore all over, but bruising would take time to heal. Five hours, forty six minutes of being drilled in every moment of what had occurred.

How had he gotten on the ship? What happened on Delta Vega? (There, he lied. Lied a lot. Amazingly, he had gotten Scotty to agree to lie with him. Kept their stories simple - Scotty had been tracking the sudden something in the atmosphere after sensing the Enterprise's passing, had managed to find him, had perfected his transwarp theory while working on the base.) What happened on the Narada? Tell them everything about Nero and his crew and the ship. How had he known about the lightning storm in space? Why hadn't they gotten information to the other ships faster?

Question after question after question. Kirk told them every bit of truth that he could, lying only when it came to the elder Spock he had met. Finally, finally, they had released him, telling him that they would speak to his crew one by one. Kirk had already known that, but he thought it was their not-so-subtle way of saying 'If you're lying, we'll know'.

He didn't care. He wanted to vanish.

So he did. For five days, though keeping his comm open in case the Board did try to contact him, James T. Kirk vanished. He had slipped out of the building through a small service entrance to avoid the reporters, got back to his dorm, packed up some things, got his cycle, and left. In a leather jacket and jeans, no one knew who he was. When someone recognized him in a bar deep in south... somewhere... he had laughed and said with a shake of his head that he wouldn't be caught dead in Starfleet. They had believed him because he was a charasmatic bastard and because why would someone who had become a star over night be in some shitty bar?

Kirk looked up to the sky that night, laying out on the grass in a big empty field in the middle of nowhere, staring silently at where as a child he had learned Vulcan sat. It was still there, a beautiful crimson dot in the sky that was all a lie. He knew it would take years (but how many?) for the light to stop reaching Earth, for it to vanish from the sky forever.

It was there, with no one at all around for miles, that he could let himself grieve.

No one except one damn old Vulcan knew what he knew. He had been there, lived it himself, the end of Romulus, the black hole, the destruction of Vulcan from two completely different view points. He had, standing there with Sulu with every part of them throbbing in pain, watched the planet collapse on itself. He had, standing on the ice in the bitter cold, watched the sky turn to darkness in his mind.

He closed his eyes on all that remained of Vulcan and let the tears fall, swishing his mouth out with moonshine that burned bitterly on the back of his throat. He carried, and would always carry, that deep seated guilt that he had failed, and that his world had vanished because of those actions. Emotional transference Spock had called it.

Guess that was supposed to explain all the other memories that had come with that damn mind-meld, but it really didn't.

He had come back only when the Board told him too, and it was only for more questioning. He ignored all other attempts to each him for almost another week.

When his mind had finally agreed to deal with people, he had started where few would have - the reporters. He sat down and did a long but casual with the source that offered him the most amount of money that would agree to his terms - he wasn't stupid. We do this nice and casual, just me, the person you chose to speak, and a single camera guy. No crowd of people outside, you don't release where we'll be doing this interview. I don't tell Starfleet I'm giving it, and they can shove it if they don't like it.

He'd be wealthy for a long time with how much the offer had finally been.

He had given that interview - one hour long on the dot - and felt better after it. Starfleet was evidently happy with it because they had said nothing on it. He had been careful about the information he gave, making sure to watch every scrap of available information that the media had before he did the interview to make sure his edited facts matched up.

When everything had been said and done... people knew the rest. They had agreed to give him the Captaincy of the Enterprise. Parties happened.

And now... this.

James T. Kirk laid awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling of sickbay, thinking. This time, there were no reporters. No Board drilling him. Just the slow, silent beeping of his heart monitor from the bio bed.

He closed his eyes again and imagined the stars. It was silent here, the rest of the world very far away. He imagined the smell of greenery all around him, the heat of late summer, and let a few tears fall.

He could deal with people later.

A captain could never cry.

So for right now, he was just Jim.
kirktastic: ((FML) Fuck. My. Life.)
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.

Expand...Maybe not. Fucking sounds like I'm trying to settle down or something. Still, I kinda like the idea. )
kirktastic: ((Sleep - Smile) Possible wet dream.)
When Kirk woke up in the late morning, without Bones there, he didn't worry too much. Instead, he spent a very lazy hour in bed, dealing with a few things, then decided he was going to hit the beach.

After the fun and muscle-strain of the previous day, he just... wanted to take it easy. So he found himself walking down to the ocean after slathering himself in sunscreen. He had a small bag in one hand and a towel over the other, but otherwise he was nude. It was a private part of the beach, but he wouldn't have given a shit if someone saw.

He put the towel down on top of the bag, then walked down into the water. He dove down under the clear, warm water once he was as far in as his thighs, and spent a while diving in and out of the waves as sleek as a seal, body surfing some of the waves. It felt good, simple, and above all, relaxing.

When he had tired himself out for now, he went back to his stuff. A quick dry off, a bit more sunscreen, and he spread out the towel. It was huge - obviously meant for this stuff - and took some work to get flat and pinned down. When it was? He laid himself out, put on a pair of sunglasses that were conveniently in the cabin, and pulled out a padd from the bag.

Spock,

I'd like to meet you sometime later today. Maybe for dinner or something? Or if you're busy with Uhura or something, after dinner? Dunno, dun care. No rush. Just when you have some time, even if its not today. Give me a buzz back with a time and idea.

Jim


When the message was sent he tucked away the padd, closed his eyes, and let himself fall asleep, spread open and golden in the rays of the sun.

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James T. Kirk

January 2020

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