DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the
property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The
story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c)
2014 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
Comfort
by
Djinn
He's
not sure why he's on this deck, why he's walking past crewmen, nodding and
smiling as if he's always headed to her quarters. Hello, Captain. Good evening, Captain.
Nice
day for a goddamned stroll, Captain?
He
rings for entrance, has to ring twice more before she opens the door.
Her
makeup's a mess and her eyes are red, but she moves aside, and it feels right
to pull her into his arms once the door closes, to say, "I'm sorry,
Chris," even though he's her captain and should not be here.
Even
though she'd probably prefer it to be Spock.
But
Spock wasn't on the planet and Kirk was, and Chapel's fiancˇ is dead because of
him, even if her fiancˇ is also dead because he was an android, and an evil one
at that.
"I
fucked him—it." The
words are raw but he knows why she says it just that way. She doesn't want to think of the android
as her Roger or what they did as making love.
"You
didn't know."
"I
should have." She pulls out of his arms. "It was kind of you to come. I don't want to keep you."
So
formal, and he wonders if it's because she's friends with Janice, who he knows
is in love with him. Or if it's
because she can't let go the way the way she needs to with him in the room.
Or
if he's not wanted. "I'm
sorry. I just thought you might need
some..." He turns and is
almost to the door when she says, "Stay? Please."
He
stops but shakes his head. "I
think you were right. I should go."
"Don't. Don't go." He hears the sound of clothing being
dropped onto the floor, and then she is behind him, arms snaking around his
waist, saying, "I don't want him
to be the last thing I was with."
He
turns and she's naked and appealing despite the fact that she's crying
again. She lifts her face to him
and it's an easy thing to let her kiss him, to drop his arms down and run his
hands up and down her back.
It
would be an even easier thing to let her take off his uniform the way she's
trying to. "No, Chris. No."
"I
need you. I need your
help."
He
sees hurt change to anger, and she strides away, grabbing clothes, pulling them
on, her shirt ending up backwards.
"Fine. There are plenty of men who want
me." She tries to get past him,
but he won't move; he shakes his head and leads her to her bed.
"Put
your arms up." He is smiling
gently as he lifts her shirt off just enough to turn it so it's facing the
right way, then he drops it down over her, trying not to see her breasts, to
think how easy it would be to—
No.
He
does let himself touch her hair. "Lie
down."
She
sniffs, and her anger seems to turn to a more resigned irritation. "I could find someone."
"I'm
sure you could. Many someones who would be very happy to help. It's not what you need."
"What
do I need?"
"To
sleep. Now lie down." He pushes her down. "Come on, pretend it's an order. Face the wall."
She
finally does as he says, and he lies down behind her, knowing she can feel that
he wants her, knowing she needs to
feel that, even if he's not going to do anything about it. He spoons her and lets her talk about
Roger, how they met, how they fell in love. He strokes her hip until she winds down
and is silent, until her breath changes to that of sleep.
It
would be so easy to fall asleep with her.
He wants to. He wants to
wake up with her. And be with her. To make her naked, to make her happy.
He
eases away, murmuring, "I'm sorry, Chris." For Roger. For refusing what she's offered.
He
watches her sleep for a moment longer, then heads for the door, conscious of
what he is giving up, also conscious that it has to be done.
He
doesn't sleep with members of his crew.
No matter how good they look naked.
No matter how much he wants to make their hurt go away.
He
takes a deep breath and goes back to his quarters. Alone again.
##
I'm sorry, sir.
It's all right.
No, it's not all
right. I should never have done
that. I—
I said it's all right,
Chris. It never happened.
Okay. Thank you.
##
He
sits in his quarters, doing nothing, staring at the wall, legs pulled up to his
chest, his bed feeling like it belongs to someone else after his time on Earth.
Edith.
The
squeal of brakes, of tires sliding over concrete, of the thump a human body
makes when it collides with a truck.
He
could have saved her.
His
chime sounds, and he is almost glad for it, the anger pulsing under his grief needs
someone to be stupid enough to want in.
"Come."
He
expects Bones. Perhaps Spock. Not Chapel.
"I
come bearing sedatives." She
holds the hypo up carefully as if he's a wild animal she's afraid of
startling. "How long has it
been since you slept?"
How
long has it been since he let the woman he loved die?
"I
don't want any damn drugs."
"Sir,
Doctor McCoy has been monitoring you since you all got back. If you don't sleep tonight, he'll relieve
you of command. I know you don't
want that."
Relieve
him of command? This
ship—this ship that ceased to exist because Edith lived—is all he
goddamn has.
"Sir." She crouches next to the bed, lower than
him, not a threat. "Please let
me help you."
He
is helpless against those words. He
can feel his eyes filling, blinks furiously, as if will alone can stop this
pain. But her meds can. For a while, anyway.
He
thrusts his arm out to her, stabs out the words "Do it" as if they
are knives.
There
is a hiss, nothing like the squeal of brakes, the screech of tires, the thud of
a body.
Long
dead. So long dead now.
"I'm
very sorry, sir." She is
easing him down, pulling back covers, and getting him into bed.
He
reaches for her, grabs her elbow, pulling her half onto the bed. "I loved her, Chris. I loved her and she's gone."
"I
know."
The
blackness claims him before he has to feel anything else.
##
I owe you.
No, I owed you, sir.
Jim. Call me Jim.
In private, maybe. I don't want to explain to Doctor McCoy
why I suddenly get to be so informal.
No, I guess not. Thank you.
You're welcome. Jim.
##
He's
walking through the lower decks again, to her quarters and he's almost there
when he sees her talking to a crewman in the corridor. She looks up, a look of surprise on her
face, and he turns on his heel and hightails it back to his quarters where he
belongs.
He
doesn't have to wait long for the chime.
"Come."
"Were
you on your way to see me?"
She sits on the bed, crossing her legs.
He
could pretend to be enthralled with the vid on his terminal, the vid he left
when he had the sudden urge to find her, but he thinks they are past such
games. He finally nods.
"The
last time I was in here, you'd lost your love. You don't look like that."
Is
that judgment? A criticism? He stares hard at her, but her
expression is easy, more curious than anything. Then she smiles. "You weren't you. You were Kirok,
the god."
"She
died carrying my child. I feel
like... I should feel more than I
do."
Chapel
makes a "What can you do?" face, and he laughs bitterly, a short puff
of air.
"I
loved her. I just feel so distant
from the man who was with her."
Distant. But not
better. He thinks that man might be
the happier of them. Living
primitive, loving his woman, watching his child grow up.
Not
like David. This child he'd have
raised right. Only that version of
him would never have known his child had a half brother.
"I
have a son," he whispers into the silence she has let settle over
them. "I never see him. His mother..." He takes a deep breath, lets it out
slowly. "She made me
choose. Space or them."
"I'm
so sorry."
"I
probably wouldn't be much of a dad."
He's trying to throw off this pain—pain that feels stronger than
what he feels for Miramanee and his dead child. Why should David hurt worse than that?
"You'd
be a wonderful dad, Jim." The
sound of his name surprises him.
She never uses it, even though he told her she could. "You can talk to me, you know? About your son. About what you just lost. I'm here. I came."
She's
here. She came. It means the world. But he can't. Talking means hurting, and he needs to
move on, to be the strong captain everyone needs.
She
seems to realize that.
"Okay." With a sad
smile she gets up. "I'll leave
you alone, sir."
"Chris,
wait." He's not sure what he
wants from her, except to not be alone.
"Chess?"
"That's
Spock's gig." She eyes the
cribbage board he has on his shelf.
"I'm pretty good at making fifteen, though."
"Well,
let's test that out."
She
sits, and they cut for the deal. He
wins. He doesn't win the game,
though. She pegs like a demon.
"Best
of five?" he asks with a grin as she starts to get up.
She
sits back down, her eyes gentle.
"Why not."
##
Look who's in the rec
lounge with no chess partner.
Look who brought the
cribbage board with him.
Really?
Really. Unless you're afraid you won't play as
well in public. Maybe you're a big
chicken when there's a potential audience for your defeat.
Oh, it's on, buddy. And my defeat? Who kept making it best of seven, best
of nine, best of eleven?
I did not think you
could win that many in a row. Luck—
Luck, my ass. Pure talent, sir.
Jim.
Jim. Now, deal.
##
He
is, once again, hurrying to her quarters.
Only this time he's doing it while reciting the alphabet. Anything to keep the kironide
in his system from manifesting in one hell of a hard on—shit. A, B, C, D—
He
slams his hand down on the chime. Hits
it again, hoping his desperation isn't manifesting in items flying all over her
quarters the way they did in his.
He
hits the chime again and then realizes Spock might be in there. Oh, hell, what if he's—
The
door is opening and she takes one look at him and yanks him inside. "The kironide?"
"Yes. Sweet Jesus, yes." He reaches for her cheek, let's his
fingers slide down it, skin on skin, soothing and arousing both. "Spock and that poker. I thought he was going to..."
"I
know. Me, too." She moves closer. "I was actually jealous of
Ny."
"Were
you? I mean...you've wanted him for
so long."
"He's
not the only one I've wanted."
She pushes him into the room, toward the bed, and he knows he should resist
and leave—he does not sleep with his crew—but he feels as if he
will come apart if he doesn't have sex.
With
her.
Now.
But
what if Spock shows up?
"Spock?"
"What,
you want to go to him instead?"
She is laughing as she begins to take off his uniform.
"No. If he's feeling this, too. He'll be here."
"Wouldn't
that be fun?" She is still
laughing. "He came into
sickbay when we first got back. The
kironide made him nauseated, not horny. The one time I bet he wished he weren't
Vulcan."
"I
guess so." He is naked and Jim
Junior is on red alert. He thinks
he is blushing. "I shouldn't—we
shouldn't—"
She
pushes him onto the bed, then begins to take her clothes off. Slowly. Sexily.
Damn
it all, he should go.
But
she is crawling on top of him, and kissing him, and then pulling away to
murmur, "You have a medical condition. I'm a nurse. This is therapy." And that makes sense. Yes, he's here because—
Oh,
holy God. Therapy has never felt
like this.
She
moans, and he thinks she's feeling the same thing.
"Chris."
She
arches her back, whispers, "This doesn't have to mean anything, Jim, but
I'm going to help you, okay?"
He
nods and she relaxes the death grip she's got on his shoulders—does she
think he's going to push her off?
Even if he wanted to, there's no way he could with this much need
coursing through him.
He
rolls her over, and she smiles.
"You're not getting away, Chris."
"I
don't want to get away."
And
then they quit talking, too lost in kissing and exploring and trying as many
positions as his kironide-charged body demands. Hours later they fall asleep, and he
wakes in her arms.
He
could leave, he should leave and let her wake up alone, send the message that
this won't happen again, but he can't do that to her. So he kisses her awake. "I have to go."
"I'm
very sorry to hear that. But I
understand."
"This
won't... We can't..."
She
nods. "I know."
Jim
Junior is screaming for another round with her—no kironide
making him do it, just pure desire.
Kirk ignores his need, dresses, and gets the hell out of her quarters.
##
Avoiding me, sir?
I could ask you the same
thing. Haven't seen you in the rec
lounge lately.
Been working on my
medical school application package.
Oh.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to come out
so...mean. It's just...I
need—
No, I get it.
I thought it would be
easier. To forget, I mean.
I know. It's hard to not have that. What?
You've hardly been
alone. Lots of planets with
oh-so-pretty women.
That doesn't mean I
don't think of you. You may be the
reason I'm so diligently not alone.
That almost makes it
okay. I see Spock at the door. Your chess game awaits.
Chris. I'm sorry.
Don't be. It was fun, right?
##
He
is walking for the last time to her quarters. She'll be leaving the ship in two
days. Her party is tomorrow
night. He has no idea how late it
will go, which is why he's going to see her now. Just in case her goodbye party lasts
until it's time for her to beam off.
He
hits the chime, and his smile fades at the possibility that Spock might be
inside. But she opens it and it's
clear that she's alone.
She
moves aside. "You want to
watch me pack?"
He
waits until the door has closed to say, "I'll help you pack if it means
you'll be mine for the rest of the night."
She
turns and studies him. "Just
for the night?"
"You
want a promise? More than
that?" Can he make her
one? He'd like to, but can he keep
it? She'll be on Earth; he'll be
out here.
She
moves closer. "I meant: don't
you want tomorrow night, too?"
"Oh. Yes. But I didn't want to assume Spock
wouldn't have an epiphany."
She
waves that idea off and goes back to moving things from her drawers to shipping
cartons. "I don't expect anything
beyond tomorrow."
"Maybe
you should?" He reaches for an
empty carton and hands it to her before she can ask. "Maybe we both should?"
"Jim,
please don't take this the wrong way but after Roger, after everything I went
through with him, the not knowing—I don't want to do long distance
again. I don't think it'd be good
for me."
He
nods. It hurts, though. Even if he's not sure it would work for
him, either. "Do you want me
to leave?"
She
smiles at him, a sweet smile, one he's going to miss. A lot. "Why would I want you to
leave?"
He
shrugs and settles in, watching her finish the packing, then smiling as she
begins to unfasten her uniform. He
is up and to her before she can get very far.
"Oh,
I'm sorry, did you want to do this?"
"Yes."
He takes his time. Something he didn't do in the rush of
the kironide-induced need. He pushes her onto the bed and uncovers
little bits of her, kisses and sucks and makes her laugh. She tries to undo his uniform and he
moves away from her questing hands, keeps going slowly, down and down
and—
"Holy
shit. You know, I thought I made
you better in my mind."
He
doesn't stop what he's doing, just reaches up for her hand and gives it a
squeeze in answer. No, she didn't
imagine this. They really are this good
together.
She
is bucking beneath him and he rides it out, never letting up until she
whimpers. He kisses his way back up
her body, finally reaching her lips, and they kiss for a long time and then he
rolls so she's on top of him, moving until they're together.
Damn. So good. He closes his eyes as she rides him,
trying to memorize this, figure out why it feels any different than the sex
he's had with other women. Why is
Chris special?
Is
it just because he has her and can't have her all at the same time? He's broken his rules for her but just
enough to make it hurt.
She
stops moving, and he groans in complaint.
Leaning down to kiss him, she taps his forehead. "Too much thinking going on. Focus on me."
"I
am."
"Then
less focus." She grins and
goes back to what she was doing, and he stops worrying about why it feels so
good or how it can't last.
They're
doing this. That's enough for now.
##
You didn't have to come
down to say goodbye.
Yes, I did. You aren't beaming off my ship without
me here.
I'm going to miss you.
I'm going to miss you,
too. Good luck in medical
school. Only you don't need
luck. You'll knock 'em dead.
Luck is good. Talent can't do everything.
Don't I know it?
Okay. I guess I should get on the pad now.
I guess you should. I'll miss you.
You said that
already.
##
He
is angry, angrier than he's been in a long time and that's saying something,
since he spends most of his time irritated now that he's left the ship and
taken a desk job. Sold his stars to
become an admiral. Then sold his
soul to the witch who let him get all the way to the magistrate's office only
to find out she wasn't renewing their marriage.
Whoever
thought up term marriages should be keel hauled. In space.
A
crowd spills out onto the sidewalk ahead.
Laughing and people hugging.
What the hell do they have to be so goddamned happy about? He is winding his way through them, when
he hears, "Jim?"
He
turns, and something on his face makes Chris back up, say, "I mean,
Admiral Kirk."
There
are people looking at him, people watching them both. Where the hell has she been while he was
wasting time with Lori?
She
moves toward him. "Are you all
right?"
He
can feel his jaw clench, knows raw fury is in his eyes. She turns to the people around her,
says, "I'll see you later."
There
are calls of "We did it!" and "Good luck!" and then she is
walking next to him, her hand on his arm, being pulled in his wake as he
resumes the pace to—where?
Home? Where Lori still
is. Lori who checked "Do Not
Renew" on the form and couldn't be bothered to fucking tell him?
He
slows down once they are out of range of the others. "What the hell were you
celebrating?"
"Med
school graduation. Don't bother to
congratulate me. You're in a hell
of a mood."
He
frowns, can feel some of the anger dying.
"I dragged you away from your party."
"No,
it was a bunch of us celebrating. I
chose to leave." She turns
them so they are headed off in a new direction. "What's the problem, Admiral?"
"Jim."
"You
sure I won't get my head bitten off?"
He
nods. "Sorry about that. It's been a bad day. Hell, it's been a bad year and a
half."
"When
I heard you were back, I came to see you but you were with her. Your wife. Pretty woman."
"She
is not my wife as of today."
"Ah. The source of your anger. I take it you were on your way home."
He
nods. "Only, I don't have a
home." His voice breaks on
"home" and he coughs, trying to cover the emotion.
"No
home. No ship. No Spock. No woman." She leans her head on his shoulder but
her tone is cruel. "I sure am
glad I'm not you."
He
can't get a read on her. She's
flirtatious and bitchy all at once.
"What are you doing?"
"Me? I'm headed to the next party. What do you think IÕm doing, Jim? Taking you home after you didn't even
bother to look me up now that we're both at Command?"
He
can feel his face turn red, the anger comes flooding back. "I don't owe you anything, Nurse
Chapel."
"You
sure don't. And it's Doctor,
now. Or did you miss it when I said
this was med school graduation night?" She lets go of his arm. "Not hard to see why your wife
wanted out."
He
wants to say something quick and sharp and hurtful back, but she's right. It's not hard to see why his wife wanted
out.
He
hates it here. He hates himself
here.
She
points to a bar across the street. "This
is my stop."
"Okay." He tries to pull in the anger and hurt
and disappointment in how his life has gone. "I am proud of you. IÕm sorry if I ruined your
evening."
"You
didn't." And then she is gone.
Just
like Lori.
He
turns into the first bar he comes upon, finds a willing young woman, and spends
the night with her. He'll worry
about where home is tomorrow.
##
Do you have a minute,
sir?
Come in, Chris.
IÕm sorry. I was hurt—I guess I thought you'd
look me up, and you didn't, and then last night.
I get it. Believe me. I'm no one's prize these days.
But I was mean. And you didn't need that.
It's not your job to
take care of me. In fact, I
understand you'll be taking care of Will.
Quite the coup as a lieutenant: CMO of the flagship.
What does that mean?
Exactly what you think
it does.
Wow. Okay. I guess we're even now on the being
bitchy front. Happy?
No, Chris. That's the whole problem. I'll never be happy here. But it's not your problem. Be thankful. You'll be out there, with my ship, and
you won't have to watch me fall apart.
Maybe you wouldn't fall
apart if I was with you?
Maybe you give yourself—and
me—more credit than you should.
I'm afraid I have a meeting, Doctor. It was wonderful to see you. Good luck on the Enterprise.
Thank you, sir. I'll show myself out.
##
She
is throwing things into shipping cartons; he used his bypass to get into her
quarters after she ignored repeated chimes. "Get out, Jim."
"Your
request for transfer has been approved.
Bones just told me. He's
disappointed but understands why you might not want to be trapped in our 'been
there, done that' world."
"Fine. Great. Get out."
He
sits instead. She's got the CMO's
quarters; she never moved out of them when Bones came aboard, and he admires
her balls. "You just can't
pack fast enough, can you?" He
remembers another time he watched her pack. Back when they were friends. Or...whatever they were. He's not sure now.
Why
didn't he look her up when he got back to Earth? He was dazzled for a while by the gleam
of being an admiral, of hanging around other admirals, who for once seemed to
like him, to respect him. And Lori
was their darling. To get
her...quite the prize.
Chapel
didn't stand a chance. Even if
she'd have probably been better for him.
"You're
really just going to sit here? Do I
have to call security?"
"That
would be interesting. Wonder what
they'd do?" He grins and he's
not sure how mean the look is.
She
laughs, grudgingly, and goes into the bathroom. He can hear more items being packed up.
When
it's clear she's not going to come out until he leaves, he gets up and stands
at the door, watching her work.
"Sorry about Will.
Another lover lost to space."
She
turns and slams her fists down onto his chest. "He was not my lover. Why do you think he was?"
He
catches her hands, stops them from pounding on him—she's actually hurting
him—and pushes her against the wall.
"I just know."
"You
don't know anything. I knew his
father. He was a family
friend—my dad was in the Corps of Engineers."
It
all suddenly makes sense. Matt was
assigned to an engineering ship early in his career. "So you and Will..."
"Saw
each other every summer once he came along. Obviously I was older." She pulls away. "He was like my little
brother."
"Chris,
I'm sorry. I saw the assignment and
assumed."
"Why? Because I slept with Roger and I slept
with you?" She jams a finger
in his chest. Hard. "I earned everything I got with
Roger, and I don't mean by sleeping with him. That came later. And you—have I ever asked you for
anything? What has sleeping with
you gotten me except a tirade on what should have been a happy night? Screw you." She punctuates every other word with the
finger in his chest and he lets her.
He
deserves this.
Suddenly,
she turns away, her accusing finger gone, and he realizes she is crying.
"Chris,
no. IÕm sorry." He pulls her to him, her back against
his chest and he kisses her neck and hears her moan. "I've been...lost. I'm sorry. I've been...not myself. But now I've got the ship. And you can stay. You can stay and—"
"No,
I can't stay. Because nothing has
changed. I was medical before. And you wouldn't be with me." She turns and seems to be studying him,
but he's not sure what she's trying to see. "I can't do this again. You've got everything back: your ship,
Spock, your home."
"No
woman."
"You'll
have plenty. You always do."
"Women
plural is not the same as woman singular." He knows it's a bad idea but he's easing
her out of the bathroom, toward her bed.
He
can see in her eyes that she knows it's a bad idea, too, but she's pulling his
uniform off and then her own, she's falling back onto the bed and pulling him
with her.
And
there...a few easy steps and they are together again. He closes his eyes and loses himself in
the feel of her. He hears her
crying and doesn't want to see, keeps his eyes closed until he has to look at
her, as she arches beneath him, as she cries out.
As
she sighs.
He
rolls off her and stares as the ceiling.
"Should I go?"
She
finds his hand, squeezes it.
"We have the night. We
might as well use it."
##
So, this again? Seeing me off?
You, me, Rand fuming in
the corridor—not quite old times.
She's transferring off,
too. Not that she'll be talking to
me after the way you asked her to give us the room.
Sorry.
Don't be. She'll get over it. She doesn't hold grudges very long.
I wish you would stay.
Nice words. But, you don't. Not really. Don't say you'll miss me. You had eighteen months on Earth to see
me and you never bothered.
I got married.
Like I said.
Good luck, then.
You, too, Jim.
##
He
is walking through Starfleet Command like a zombie, like someone brought him
back from the grave and told him to move but not where or why. Or how—how the hell does he get
through this without Spock? With
Bones out of his mind?
"Jim." Her voice is soft, but her hand is firm
as she takes his arm and pulls him away from the brightly lit hallway. She leads him to somewhere quiet and
dark, somewhere he's not sure he's ever been.
"Where
are we?"
"I
practically live at Command these days.
All us Ops folks know the out-of-the-way places you can decompress
without anyone finding you."
She moves closer to him.
"I'm so sorry."
"I
need you to look at McCoy."
He's wringing his hands, like some old, worried woman and he thinks of
how Khan would laugh if he could see that.
It was bad enough having to wear his glasses in front of him, that look
of amusement on his face.
Khan. Damn him. Damn him to five thousand more hells
than he's already in.
"Jim,
let's go." She's pulling on
his arm, making him stand.
"You're coming home with me."
"I
don't have a home." But he
does. He has his apartment. The ship wasn't his: it was Spock's and
the cadets'. He just had temporary
custody. And he brought her home
broken and burned.
"When
did you last sleep?"
He
makes a strange sound, sort of a huff, a helpless "I don't know"
noise that scares him. When did he
sleep last?
She
gets him up and moving toward the exit, then takes out a communicator and says,
"Chapel to Cartwright."
"Cartwright
here. I thought you were getting
dinner?"
"Change
of plans. A mutual friend needs my
help."
"I'm
okay," Kirk says, loudly enough that Matt can hear him.
"Understood. I'll get someone to cover your
station. Take good care of
him."
"Will
do my best." She stashes the
communicator and pulls Kirk in her wake, like he's caught in a tractor beam,
unable to do more than drift as she hails a flitter and says, "Your place
or mine, Jim?"
"Mine." He wants to be in his bed. He wants to be home. As much as that apartment can be called
home with no ship and no Spock. But
Chris is here. Now, when he's lost
everything else, does he have her?
"Yours
it is." She gives the flitter
his address and he wonders how she knows it. But then he knows hers, even if he
hasn't been to visit since he left Antonia and came back to Starfleet.
Why
is he always picking women who aren't Chris? Where are they? She's here and she's being nice to him,
and she knew Spock and the ship and what they mean to him. Why does he keep walking away from her? Or is it that he never walks toward her?
"I
love you," he says, and it seems to fill the silence in the flitter.
"You
are wiped out and you've been through hell. Tell me that in the morning." She leans in and kisses his cheek. "But for what it's worth, I love
you, too."
"We
should check on Bones."
"We
will. In the morning. It's late, Jim. We don't want to disturb him."
Of
course they don't. What is he thinking? "We'll go in the
morning." Finally: a plan.
The
flitter stops, and she pushes him gently out. He takes her hand and brings her into
his building, into the elevator and down the hall on the top floor to his
apartment. He palms them in and
walks to the window; she comes with him, not fighting what he wants.
"Beautiful
view," she says softly.
"Jim, you need sleep."
He
hears the whir of something, looks down to see she has a scanner. "Where did that come
from?"
"I'm
still a doctor. Even if I don't
practice right now." She
sighs. "You haven't eaten. You haven't slept. And you're dehydrated." She pulls her hand free, walks to the
kitchen, and pours a big glass of water.
"Here. Drink up."
He
does what she says because he's suddenly overpoweringly thirsty.
She
roots around in his chiller, pulls out some cheese and cuts some hunks
off. "Eat."
"You're
really bossy." He's feeling
more himself though. With water,
and food, and soon sleep, and a plan.
And
her.
"Now,
you're going to bed."
"We're
going." He takes her
hand. "You sleep
here." His sentences are coming
out rather cave-man-ish, but he doesn't care. When he thinks she's going to argue, he
pulls her close, puts his arms around her, and gives her the best kiss he's
capable of.
She
kisses him back, probably a much better effort than what he's giving her, but
she's not about to drop.
"Fine, I'll sleep here."
"You
don't have someone at home, do you?"
She
rolls her eyes. "When do I
ever?"
He
wonders if she's been waiting for him.
Or Spock, probably, is more like it. She loved Spock first.
But
maybe she loves Kirk best. He wants
to think so.
"Come
on, sweetheart. Let's get you to
bed." She follows him into the
bedroom, pulls her clothes off and then his. "Get in bed."
He
crawls in, feels the softness of sheets and blankets and can't remember the
last time he was horizontal.
Stupid. He's needed. Bones needs him. He can't get this tired again.
She
gets in on the other side of the bed and says, "Roll over."
He
does and she spoons him, a reverse of the first time, when she lost Roger and
he went to comfort her. "I've
loved you since that first time," he says.
"Mmm hmmm."
She is clearly not believing him.
He's
too tired to argue. She's warm and
soft and she's keeping him safe.
And she's not going anywhere.
He gives up to sleep, is gone in moments.
When
he wakes up, he's alone in bed. But
he can hear her out in the kitchen.
Making breakfast from the sound of it. Bones. They're going to see Bones. She'll help.
That
thought may just make this bearable.
##
I have to go. I can't explain why.
Go. Go where?
It's for Bones. And for Spock.
You're not making any
sense. Let me call Matt.
No. Don't call anyone. No one can know. Please, Chris. Trust me?
Jim, there's nowhere to
go.
Yes, there is. There really is. I wanted...I wanted to say goodbye this
time. And I love you.
Jim, you're just ti—
No, I'm not just tired,
and it's not the grief or the stress.
I know I've fucked this up a thousand ways from Sunday, but I love you,
and I want to try. When this is
over and I'm back. I want to try,
all right? Please say all right.
All right.
##
He
hears Bones say, "Well, will you look at who's darkening our nonexistent
Vulcan doorway" and glances up.
Chris
is striding her way across the Vulcan sands, waving to Uhura and Sulu who are
working on the side of the bird of prey, then giving Bones a huge hug. "You had us all worried."
"I
had myself worried, darlin'. It was no picnic having him in my
head."
Kirk
takes a deep breath and then points up.
"Spock's up there."
She
doesn't even look. "Didn't
come here for Spock. Came here for
you."
Bones
stands and says, "I'm going to give you two a little privacy." Then he skedaddles but not without
shooting Kirk a look that says, "We will discuss this at a later
date."
"Jim,
your big plan went to shit."
She sighs and takes his arm, turning him away from the bird of prey, and
away from where Spock stands his unnerving vigil. "And your son. I'm so sorry."
He
nods, unsure what to say. It's a
raw wound that David's gone before he had a chance to really get to know
him. "Does Starfleet know you're
here?"
"Starfleet
thinks I'm about four systems over, at a spa on Devulia. I had to ride some not so savory forms
of transport to get here. I'm
hoping Sarek can get me a nicer ride back."
"Sarek?"
"You're
in deep shit, Jim. You need him to testify for you." She suddenly laughs and pulls out a
small paper card. "And this
guy, who is a little older than I'd probably want my legal representation to
be, says you're pretty well screwed but if you want to fight city hall, he's
your man."
He
looks down, see Cogley's name on the card, and
laughs. "He got me off
once." He pulls her into his
arms, not caring who's watching. "I
got Spock back. Bones is sane
again. The ship was being
mothballed. What can they do to me
that will hurt as much as losing my two best friends?"
She
looks down and he can guess why.
"I
haven't lost you or you'd be included in that list. I haven't lost you, have I?"
"I
am not missing the famous Devulian mud treatment
because you've lost me."
He
smiles, feeling his world go back another notch toward normal. "It means the world that you
came."
She
kisses him. A long, very sweet
kiss. "This world? This dusty, craphole—don't
tell anyone I said that, but come on."
He
laughs. He's been thinking the same
thing. It might seem rosier if the
friend he risked everything for actually seemed to know him.
"Do
you have a room here or something?
I was scared to death you were going to die and we wouldn't get
to...try. Isn't that what you
wanted?"
He
smiles and leads her off to the stairs that go up to the quarters he's been
given. "I did say that."
She
is in his arms as soon as he closes the door; their clothes are off very
shortly after. And then they are
together. Trying.
On
this bleak world with Starfleet up in arms over his actions and the Spock he
knew missing, things suddenly seem okay.
"I love you," he says.
"I
love you, too."
##
You don't have to do
this, Ambassador.
Kirk, you saved my son
at considerable cost. It is the
least I can do. And Commander
Chapel would be most put out.
Damn straight. Thank you, Sarek.
If you need anything
else, you know where I am. Enjoy
your trip back to Devulia.
Should I be worried that
you're sleeping with him?
Should I be worried that
you can't seem to find a new theme?
I'm not the hussy that you think I am.
I know. But you're attractive and he's...
He's married to the love
of his life. Even if he doesn't
show it. Now, let it rest.
Aye, aye,
Commander. Thank you for coming.
That statement could be
taken one of several ways.
It sure can, can't it? I love you. I'll see you soon.
I love you, too. And you better.
##
"Now
who's got an admirer?" Chris
stands before him, grinning in a way that lets him know she's not taking
Gillian too seriously as competition.
"It's
my curse. Just too pretty."
She
laughs. "And lucky. Way to sidestep all the charges."
He
takes her arm and leads her to a quieter spot. "Thank you for getting Sarek
here."
"Almost
got him killed. Last time he
answers my call." She reaches
over, touching his face, with a look on her face he doesn't like because it's
so sad. "I was afraid I'd lost
you. Just like Roger...here one
minute, then gone."
"You're
not going to lose me. And I promise
I will convince you of that later."
"I'll
hold you to that. Now, go talk to
your adoring public, Captain."
He
laughs. Feels...free. No longer an Admiral with no home, no
friends, no ship. He got all those
back and added a woman.
He
watches Chris move away, heading back to Ops no doubt. He put her on the door to his place,
knows that if they don't meet back up during the day, she'll be waiting for him
when he gets home. Or he'll be
waiting for her—odds are that her day is going to be longer than his.
Spock
is waiting; they talk to his father then head out to see what ship it is
Starfleet is giving them.
"I
noticed you were talking to Commander Chapel."
"Yes." He could give more info, but he wants to
see where Spock will go with this. Assess
how far he's come since they left Vulcan all set on surrendering to the
authorities.
"Am
I to surmise that the two of you are together?"
"Does
it bother you?"
"If
you are happy and she is as well, why would that bother me?"
Kirk
laughs softly. "No
reason. And yes, I'm with
her." He is going to say more
but they are getting on the shuttle, the little craft taking them around spacedock to...
He
closes his eyes, bites back tears.
His ship. His girl. The Enterprise
lies below him. A new version but
his.
"There
is a symmetry to this, is there not?"
Spock looks extremely satisfied.
McCoy
glares at them both. "Just
tell me they tested the damn transporters out before we'll be using them."
Kirk
grins. This is everything he wants. Everything he never thought he'd have
again.
He's...happy.
##
So did you like your
ship?
You know I did. Not as much as I like you, though.
Heresy! Do not let her hear you say that.
I won't. Spock is happy for us.
Yeah? Go figure.
You don't still like
him, do you? Sorry, had to ask.
I love you.
Which is not exactly
answering the question. Fine, new
subject. How about this one: would
you like to move in here?
I think I might. Once I know we're solid.
Fair enough. I plan to prove we are until we ship out,
Doctor.
I'm looking forward to
that, Admiral.
FIN