Chapter 1


It was one thing to be told, as a child, that his father had died in the line of duty while serving on a Federation Starship in space.

It was another thing to come "face-to-face" with the very person who had killed his father, and left the woman who loved him, Jim's own mother, just barely half alive.

The very fabric of space itself was ripping open in a maelstrom of lightning-like discharges of energy around a hole between now and the future.

The Narada was emerging from that hole, and the ship that Jim's father was in was up ahead of him, right on a collision course for the Romulan ship that wouldn't be built for nearly two centuries.

Both the Kelvin and the Romulan ship were too close to put the Enterprise into warp drive in order to close the distance and give his father a fighting chance.

He saw the Kelvin being bombarded by the alien's advanced energy torpeodos, and plunging out of space, back to the earth that it had been born from.

As Jim watched, it obliterated itself in a fiery billow against the atmosphere, its explosion seemed to sink into the very planet below it and start to pull the expanse of Earth around and into itself.

Because of me, Jim!

Jim Kirk had woken from nightmares like this one only to have Bones's disembodied voice ask if he was alright (because he'd recieved an auto alert that there had been a human scream registered by the computer in his room).

This time, when he did wake, he heard his own voice at the very end of a half-moan-half-whimper.

He froze, and waited for his friend's voice to break into the silence. To his relief (and repressed disappointment), McCoy's disembodied voice didn't make an appearance.

With his fingers still clutching at his head, he waited until he was sure there would be no check done on him over the intercom.

It was annoying and embarrassing that the computer was programmed to alert sickbay if he screamed in his sleep. It would, however, truly SUCK if the people in sickbay were alerted every time he moaned or, the heavens forbid, anytime he whimpered.

Sometimes, though, a suspicion floated in the backmost part of his mind that they probably did, but just didn't let it be known. He'd decided that if they weren't going to offer the information, he wasn't going to ask.

The pain finally registered. Where his fingertips were at his forehead, several points began throbbing under a slight burning sensation.

Finally regaining his senses enough to pull his hands away from his head, he quickly glanced at the tips of his fingers. "Lights," he stated with dull resolve in his voice when he realized that it was too dark in the room for him to see. After the computer registered his order and complied, he still couldn't see. "--ow?" He waited for a few beats to see if someone in sickbay would give up their secret. Nope.

His eyelids had quickly clenched shut on reflex at the assailing brightness. After a couple of moments, he blinked experimentally and aimed his pupils at the area that would be where his fingernails were. "Lovely," he murmured sarcastically when he saw reddish darkness where opaque ivory should have been.

Jim slid his legs over one side of the bed and used their inertia to lurch the upper part of his body into a sitting position. Another heavy sigh and he shuffled oh-so enthusiastically to the bathroom to see what sort of damage he was going to have to explain to Bones.

Kirk didn't find out until just before he officially moved into his new Captain's quarters aboard the Enterprise: Starship crewmembers were obligated to log any minor wounds that were treated with personal issued First Aid supplies. It was a precautionary means of tracking down possible causes of infection complications out in space without bogging down the medical staff.

After wiping away the fine layer of already congealed blood on the rather wide (and deep) scratches on his forehead and swabbing them thoroughly with antiseptic, he took the First Aid injury log sheet out of the pack and wrote down, SCRATCHED FOREHEAD WITH FINGERNAILS. It was truthful enough. He'd actually managed to dig his fingernails down into his skin before raking the surface below the gouges about a half-inch down.

He tried to look on the "bright side" while he was in the turbolift on the way to the Bridge.

At least the people on the Bridge with him would have their backs turned to him for nearly most of the time, and even if, say Chekov or Sulu turned around to face him while they said something to him, they would be far enough away not to really see the scratches.

That thought made him realize how tense he was, because he'd relaxed with relief and noticed how taught his muscles had been while he was standing in the turbolift.

As fate would have it, Uhura and Spock got onto the lift at a deck before the Bridge. Uhura entered first, her head blocking his forehead from Spock's view, before Spock quickly took his place alongside of her, safely faced the same direction as Jim. The two had both nodded respectfully to him, but Uhura caught an unusual expression on Kirk's face, and looked up at him without hesitation.

"Captain, what happened to your forehead?" his Chief Communications Officer blurted out with suddenly wide eyes.

Spock's head seemed to snap in the Captain's direction.

Jim slid the lower part of his jaw slightly to the left, but continued to keep his eyes focused forward and down at the bottom part of the turbolift. He looked as if he were trying to decide exactly what to say, and then inhaled deeply, as if to signal that he'd made his decision. "Well, I was under my bed, and I forgot about the--"

Uhura blinked, as if suddenly knowing she was in the process of regretting her question, and cut him off, just as he'd hoped. "That's alright, never mind. It's none of my business anyway." She faced forward again, with a veiled expression that seemed to read, I should have guessed it would be something childishly ridiculous with James T. Kirk, Captain notwithstanding.

"Y'sure?" He asked with a strange brightness in his eyes. "It's actually sort of a funny story, in a slightly weird way." His expression suggested hopefulness that she would change her mind and let him finish the story he seemed to be ready to tell.

After all that had happened, and learning that Kirk's father had been killed by the same maniac who'd wiped out Spock's entire planet, she didn't want to exhibit the same attitude toward him as she had when they were in the academy. Not right now, anyway. Looking straight ahead, but with a warm smile, she told him, "I'm fine without it."

Despite the fact that he was feeling equally elated and saddened that he could so easily trick two of his closest coworkers into not being interested in his injuries, he was warmed by Uhura's attempt at joking with him. He wanted to repeat his original response to that by-gone statement, but was afraid that Spock would interpret it as an act of flirtation. "Understood," he finally chose to say.

The door slid open, and they all took their respective places.

Uhura had just barely enough time to realize that it was four years ago to the day that she had met Jim Kirk, when she found a visual message from Dr. McCoy waiting for her at her station.

HOW DOES JIM SEEM THIS MORNING? –LEONARD

Uhura glanced at her captain covertly, and then, just as covertly, entered a reply. QUIET. SCRATCHES ON FOREHEAD. Before sending it, she considered, then added. WHY?

A few seconds later, she got a reply.

BIRTHDAY. HOW OFTEN IS HE SCRATCHING FOREHEAD?

Nyota felt like a photon torpedo had just gone through her chest. Again, she remembered her first meeting with Jim Kirk. He'd been drunk, and she'd wondered why someone as smart, and she had to admit, attractive looking as him would put himself in that condition.

NO. HAS SCRATCH MARKS ON FOREHEAD. NOT SERIOUS. She sent back to McCoy.

She replayed key memories between her first encounter with Jim Kirk, and now.

When she was allowed to return to that particular bar again where she'd met him, the bartender had asked if Jim Kirk was actually in Startfleet Academy. When she reluctantly told him that, yes, he was, for now, the bartender made an odd comment about wondering if Kirk was going to keep getting pissed the same time each year.

She decided, after thinking about it, to add. SHOULD WORRY MORE ABOUT AFTER HE'S DONE WITH SHIFT.

McCoy's quick answer to that only made her feel more like a self righteous schmuck. I SECOND THAT MOTION. TWICE.