Exit Wounds
1- A Night to Remember- In which the crew travel back to an old bar for their last day on Earth.
A quick thanks to the amazing Katy A, EnderWx for reading through my work and helping me make corrections!
A Night to Remember
James T Kirk wandered down the sandy street, his hands absent-mindedly pulling his leather jacket tighter across his chest. The captain glanced up at the horizon. In the distance, the bright lights of his usual bar shone like a beacon. Like moths to a light bulb, the neon glow attracted all manners of customers, and James T Kirk was one of them. Kicking the dirt across the path, the captain smiled. This was his last day on Earth, his last day of being stuck on shore leave in Iowa. Of course, after Khan, the Enterprise had been taken in for some repairs – the damage had been, to say the least, extensive, but it was nothing that Starfleet's star engineers couldn't handle.
While the engineers worried about the ship's systems, Jim had been revived and brought back to the land of the living, before being forced to take shore-leave and return to Iowa. Bones had offered for Jim to travel with him back to his own hometown in Georgia but, having already been a burden on the doctor's shoulders for long enough, Jim had decided against it.
A shiver ran down the captain's spine as he stopped outside the bar, his eyes gleaming as the lights highlighted his face in the darkness. A shrill wind suddenly whipped up around him, the small particles of sand and dirt gusting into his face. Glancing over his shoulder, Kirk smiled as he stared outwards over the desolate landscape, at the barren land he had once called home.
Shaking himself, the captain took another step forwards, his eyes slipping up to the neon sign of the bar once more. This was the place where he had first met Pike. Jim remembered every moment like it had only just happened; he had been sitting in a cold hard chair, his face throbbing with pain while blood soaked the napkins rolled up his nose. Kirk sighed with longing, his eyes lingering on the bar's door. What had Pike really seen in him that day? Because the late captain definitely hadn't seen the man he was now. Instead, Kirk reasoned, the man had just seen another juvenile farm boy, forever complaining over the loss of his father and the abandonment of his mother.
'This one's on me,' Jim thought miserably, his bright blue eyes rising up to gaze at the star-filled sky.
An eruption of laughter drew Jim's eyes back down to Earth just in time to watch the dilapidated door to the bar fly open as three drunken farm boys charged out blindly. Smirking, Jim brushed down his leather jacket, his feet dragging across the sand as he gradually made his way forwards. Jim stepped swiftly to the side with good grace to let the drunken men stumble past. He'd been there before after all.
As Jim approached the bar, dance music began to reverberate loudly through the walls, its slow beat masking the loud shrieking whine of the speakers as the dilapidated door was opened wide. Stepping inside, Kirk allowed his trademark grin to befall his features, his hands locking onto the handles of the second door as he threw them wide. Swaggering out of the foyer, the captain found his cocky grin doubling in size, for the bar hadn't changed at all. In the years he had been away, not once had the walls seen a single lick of new paint. Laughing, Jim took in the variety of flashing advertisement boards, the writing on them a variety of languages that filling the boards slowly, giving the room a soft blue glow.
"Captain!" someone called from across the room, their voice barely cutting through the loud dance music.
Turning, Jim raised his hand in greeting. In the far corner of the bar was a small wooden booth where, crammed inside, sat the majority of the bridge crew. Making his way over slowly, Kirk navigated through the bustling bodies to where his crew sat expectantly, all adorned in their usual causal wear. Jim was amazed to see them all there; even Spock sat with a rigid posture, crammed into the small booth as his Vulcan eyes flickered around the room inquisitively while his hands rested entwined across the chest of his dark grey, knitted jumper.
Since it was their last day on Earth before their five year mission, Uhura had suggested that the bridge crew went out for a meal together to a well-known restaurant, beseeching that it would be an effective way of cementing relationships among them, as well as a good way to celebrate their last day on Earth. Kirk needed no further convincing and, agreeing, the captain had begun to make the plans, using his spare time in the Starfleet's sickbay to organise it.
However, for Jim, there was only one way to celebrate their last day.
"Goddammit, Jim!" Bones groaned as he stood up and clasped his friend in a hug. "You could have picked somewhere better than a bar full of farm boys!" Jim felt the man pat him on the back before pulling away with a smile.
"Nice to see you too, Bones" Kirk grinned. Turning, the captain proceeded to greet the rest of the bridge crew: Sulu, Uhura, Spock, Scotty, and even Chekov, who sat with a large smile plastered across his face and a drink clasped in his hand. Sitting down on the nearest chair, Kirk faced his crew, his hands slowly working off his leather jacket from his shoulders. "Thanks for coming, all of you."
"Why are we here again, Jim?" Bones groaned as he glanced towards the bar where two men had already begun to argue over whose drink was whose. Following the doctor's line of sight, Jim laughed as he draped his jacket across the back of his chair.
"It's our final night on Earth, Bones!" Jim said exasperatedly. "We have to celebrate in style now, don't we?!"
"Picking the bar where you got convinced into enlisting", Uhura stated knowledgably as she glanced at her surroundings. "Nice to see you carry some sentiment, Kirk." The lieutenant then proceeded to take a long sip of her drink. Laughing, Kirk nodded slowly.
"Yeah," he mused as he carefully smoothed down his trousers. Bones rolled his eyes as he pushed a drink towards his captain: a large glass of Bourbon. Nodding towards his CMO, Jim turned his attention back to Uhura. "It's a shame that Pike…"
The captain broke off as he stared down into his drink. It had been over a year since Christopher Pike had died, leaving a tumult of emotions churning in Kirk's stomach. Pike had been the closest thing to a father Kirk had ever had. Growing up with Frank had left him craving the attention, recognition and acceptance all children searched for. For Kirk, Pike had been the man to give it to him.
"To Admiral Pike," Sulu chimed in suddenly, raising his glass rising up into the middle of the table. Gradually, the rest of the group did the same, their eyes all turning to Jim as they awaited his own contribution. Raising his eyes from his glass, Kirk met the helmsman's gaze, allowing himself to smile as he raised his own glass.
"To Admiral Pike," Jim echoed as he glanced around the table. "To the Enterprise and our five year mission. I honestly couldn't imagine having anyone else serving by my side," Kirk concluded. Slowly, the captain smiled at his crew. His friends.
Silence fell for a few moments as they all nodded, murmuring in agreement.
"Oh, and of course –" the captain interjected quickly before anyone could drink. Spock tilted his head inquisitively as the group lapsed into silence once more. Pausing for a dramatic effect, Jim grinned as he glanced towards the doctor. "HERE'S TO BONES TURNING THIRTY TWO!"
Sulu, Chekov, Uhura and Scotty broke out into laughter as they glanced across at the doctor. Spock, on the other hand, simply raised his already piqued eyebrow higher.
Downing the Bourbon quickly, Jim stifled a laugh as Bones' face literally began to glow. Seething in his seat, the doctor shook his head slowly, his hand bringing his own Bourbon stiffly to his lips. "Thank you… Jim," Bones muttered through gritted teeth. Downing his own glass of alcohol, Bones sighed loudly as he relaxed further in his seat.
"Doctor, forgive me but I did not realise that you had celebrated the anniversary of your birth," Spock said coolly as he reached for his own drink, his eyes narrowing as he took a long sip.
"Otherwise known as a Birthday, Mister Spock" Jim interjected teasingly. Tilting his head to one side, Spock frowned.
"Yes, Spock," Bones groaned as he brought his hand to his head, allowing his fingers to run through his thick brown locks. "I spent it in Georgia. And besides –" The doctor rounded on Jim. "– a little 'birdy' tells me that the captain isn't as far off thirty as he likes to make out," Bones added, his voice rising slightly to compensate for the loud pounding music.
Rolling his eyes, Kirk watched as Chekov – the youngest member of their team – began to laugh hysterically, seemingly over nothing before dipping his head as he returned to his drink solemnly. Turning to the young ensign, Sulu placed a hand on the younger man's back, his eyebrow quirked.
"I remember when I was your age, laddie," Scotty grumbled as he picked up his own glass. Bones glanced across to the engineer who was looking at him deeply. "They were the good old days," Scotty sighed deeply and, taking a large swig of his Romulan Brandy, the Scotsman hiccupped.
Sensing the lull in the conversation, Jim ceased idly tracing the lines on his palms. "Next round's on me," he announced as he glanced towards Spock. At that notion, the bridge crew seemed to relish the idea that Jim was willing to buy them all drinks for once. Not a single one of the members surrounding the table hesitated in issuing their orders for the captain. 'Well,' Jim thought. 'Nearly all of them'.
"What will it be, Spock?" Jim questioned as he noted the lack of an order from the Vulcan,
"Captain, I have no desire to –"
"Come on, Spock!" Jim whined as he glanced at Uhura for help. Nudging the Vulcan, the woman smiled sweetly.
"Alcohol has a different effect on Vulcans, captain," Spock explained as he locked eyes with Jim. "It removes logic, therefore it is, in itself, illogical"
"Today doesn't require logic, Spock!" Jim stared back as he continued regardless. "It's a special occasion! Surely you can make an acceptance!"
Spock paused as silence filled the group, only the loud dance music working to remove any awkwardness between them. Tilting his head, Jim waited as the Vulcan opened his mouth before closing it quickly.
"A Terran Brandy should suffice, captain," Spock replied eventually, pushing his empty glass into the middle of the table as he spoke.
"Jim," Kirk corrected with an appreciative smile. "It's Jim, Spock."
Spock paused for a moment before nodding slowly, his attention returning to Uhura as she proceeded to whisper something into his ear. Turning to the rest of his crew, the captain continued to check their orders, his hand clenched tightly around the bar's menu.
"Something tells me this is going to be a long night," Bones murmured to himself, as he watched Kirk finally jump to his feet and wander towards the bar, the small shimmering menu of drinks still clasped in his hand.
O-=
James leaned across the table as he brought his pointed finger up. He was making a point. Or trying to make a point, if only he could remember what it was that he had been saying. "Um…" Jim mumbled as he looked down at the table. Before them were a series of shot glasses arranged in a circle. Tilting his head, the captain looked at the table's occupants. Spock, Uhura, Scotty and Bones all sat around the table, their eyes locked on him as they waited expectantly. Turning to the side, Jim spotted Sulu and Chekov by the bar, the younger man leaning against the pilot for support.
"Jim?" Bones questioned, his head pressed into his hands. "Jim!"
Turning back, James Kirk smirked as he looked down at the shots once more. Faintly, his thoughts returned to him. "I propose… a drinking game –" Jim paused as he swallowed past the dry lump in his throat. Faintly, he registered a waitress wandering up beside him, her arms stretching past as she leant forwards to gather up the assortment of empty glasses on their table. "Every time Bones says… uh… 'Goddammit!'… uh… you have to drink," the captain proceeded to slur.
"God–" Bones mentally kicked himself as Jim quirked his brow and grinned. "–dammit man, you're more slaughtered than a lamb at a butcher's!"
Reaching outwards, Jim nimbly took up a shot, his head tilting back as he threw it down his throat. Gasping, the captain shook his head in disgust. Scotty chuckled and reached outwards too, his own face screwing up as he tossed the cheap alcohol down his throat. Watching with an amused smile, Uhura took another long sip from her own drink before setting it down on the table gently.
"Perhaps we should call it a night," she proposed, glancing at Spock for support. The Vulcan tilted his head. "It's already been longer than originally planned," she continued.
"Lieutenant Uhura is right, captain," Spock agreed as he brushed down his jumper. "It is the most logical decision, especially considering the fact that we are expected to report to our posts in five point three hours time."
"Spock hasn't had enough to drink," Jim murmured as he noted the quirk in the Vulcan's eyebrow. "And besides, it's still early!" Jim pouted slightly as he turned to Bones. The doctor simply raised his eyebrows, a large frown on his already frustrated features. Scotty nudged the doctor in the side, his eyes drifting between Bones and the shots lined on the table.
Bones opened his mouth to retaliate. However, he was cut off as a large shout erupted from the bar. Spinning on his heels, Jim leapt from his seat, his eyes locking on Chekov and Sulu as he identified the two Starfleet officers immediately. Six large burly men had surrounded them; one of them even appeared to have a particularly good grip on his ensign's neck. Sobering up as much as he could, the captain strode – or rather stumbled – to the bar as quickly as possible.
"Sorry to interrupt, fellas, but –" Jim swallowed hard as he locked eyes with the blurry figures. "– I don't think you want to do that." Glaring, the captain gestured to the largest of the men, who had a strong grip around Chekov's throat.
Gasping, Chekov glanced with tear-filled eyes towards his captain., "Kept–" Pavel was cut off as the man before them tightened his grip around the ensign's throat menacingly. Flinching, Hiraku Sulu tightened his hands into fists.
"Who are you –" the large drunken brute slurred. "– to tell me what to do?!" Pavel gasped again as he clawed at the hands wrapped around his throat in a vain attempt to alleviate the pressure.
"My name is Captain James T Kirk of the USS Enterprise," Jim growled deeply as he took a step forwards towards the larger brute, slowly a dark façade filled the captains drunken features, "Now if I were you, I'd let go of my ensign – now – before I do something both of us will regret!"
The men seemed to mutter something between themselves, their eyes fixed on the blond who stood defiant before them. Eventually, after a few moments of silence, the larger brute released his hold on Chekov. Gasping, the youngest of them collapsed on the ground in a heap, his arms wrapped around his neck as he struggled to breathe. Rushing forwards, Sulu collapsed beside the younger ensign, his arm wrapped around Pavel's waist as he pulled him to his feet.
Looking down at the brutes' clenched fists, Jim remained standing as he allowed Sulu to manoeuvre Chekov until they were standing behind him. "Sulu," Kirk began, his voice commanding and authorative. "Take Chekov back to the table, gather everyone up, and wait for me outside the bar," he finished with a slur.
"But captain – " Sulu began. Jim shook his head as he cut the pilot off.
"Just go…" Jim paused. "Don't make me order you."
Nodding unwillingly, Sulu helped Chekov hobble away, his hands clasped tightly around the younger man in his arms. Despite his two officers wandering away, Kirk could still identify a blur of a figure standing beside him in his peripheral vision. Risking a glance away from the men before him, Kirk felt a small smile grace his features as he identified the blur.
"Who's that?!" another one of the brutes growled as he stepped forwards beside his leader. Jim felt the figure stiffen beside him.
"Commander Spock," the Vulcan uttered with precision. Tilting his head, Spock examined the leader of the men before him. "And to who are we speaking?"
Throughout the exchange, Jim had noticed that the eyes of the leader had remained fixed on him the entire time. Staring back with an equal amount of malice, Jim watched as the ringleader in question tilted his head to the side in an inquisitive nature. "Name's Greg," he grunted as he took a large step closer. "I know you. I don't forget a face."
"How could anyone forget a face like mine?" Jim taunted back teasingly as he tilted it to the side, "It's probably the best looking you've seen all year." Greg remained silent as he continued to stare at Jim.
It was in those silent moments that the captain suddenly frowned. The face he had been staring at for the past few minutes had begun to ring warning bells in his head. Then, as though emerging from water, a barrage of images flooded his mind.
Frank had returned home one night stumbling through the door in a drunken haze. With him, he dragged another man, a stranger who was particularly large. After discovering Kirk had been watching, Frank had grabbed him by the neck and dragged him into the next room, forcing him to the ground while he shouted and kicked his narrow frame. The whole time, the stranger had remained silent, only a simple sadistic smile slowly spreading across his face as he watched. It turned out that the only reason he had visited was because he had needed a punching bag for the night…
Kirk's breathe froze in his lungs as he struggled to force his way through the torment. Muscles seizing up, Jim couldn't help but watch as the same eyes which had haunted him that night raked over him now.
"Captain?" Spock asked loudly. Cursing inwardly, Kirk pushed the dark thoughts away as he squared his shoulders, raising his chin as he stared back at the face of a coward. 'Greg' still had a face as hard as stone, although now his skin was dry and hard, and his yellowing teeth stuck out at sickening angles and pressed against his cracked lips.
"I suggest you leave," Kirk slurred slightly again, the room still spinning slowly.
"James Kirk… Where have I heard that before?" Greg paused, frowning as he pondered the name. His friends looked confused as they stared at the captain before them.
Suddenly, a large smile filled Greg's face, his yellowing teeth once again making an appearance. "Hello, Jimbo."
Sensing that things were taking a sharp turn for the worse, Kirk glanced across towards the booth where his crew had been sitting, relief washing over him as he noted that the booth was empty. However, his reveries were cut short as a rough hand clamped around his throat, the callous skin scratching his neck as he was pulled off his feet.
Stirring, Spock made a move forwards as his own pale hand locked onto the one squeezing Jim's neck. "I believe it would be wise if you – " Spock began. However, the Vulcan was cut off as his arms were instantly restrained by the other men. Being pulled backwards, Spock lashed around as he struggled against the large arms holding him back.
"Remember me?" Greg hissed.
"I have no idea who you are–" Jim lied as he spat through his teeth. Flinching away from the saliva, Greg smirked as he tightened his grip around Jim's throat in response.
"Then let me help you remember," Greg smirked as he slammed Jim up against the wall, tightening his hold on the captain's neck as he began to struggle for breath. "You were the rat who got me wound up in prison!" Greg's grip tightened as he watched Jim's face turn a bright red. "Does Frank know you're here again?"
"I think you deserved it," Jim spluttered suddenly. Greg's eyebrows rose fractionally as he nodded triumphantly. Jim didn't bother to acknowledge this, instead choosing to focus on the fact that the room was really beginning to spin. "I wouldn't say that prison deserved you though."
Continuing to struggle, Spock kept his worried eyes locked on his captain. Deciding that now was his time to interrupt, the Vulcan cleared his throat.
"Sir, assault of senior Starfleet officers is against – " Spock stated firmly, although he found himself silenced as a rough hand slapped him across his face. The bar lapsed into silence, the dance music ceasing as everyone watched the scene unfolding before them– hands tightening around their drinks expectantly.
"Starfleet won't help you now –" one of the brutes spat venomously.
Jim dragged his eyes back to Greg as the larger man tightened his grip around his neck. Gasping, Jim continued to claw at the hand, desperate for air, until his throat was suddenly released. Falling hard to the floor, Jim's head cracked against the side of the bar, his ears ringing as he turned his head to the side just in time to see Greg lean down to leer in his face. "Just like old times, eh, Jimbo?"
Groaning in defiance, Jim attempted to raise himself from the ground on trembling arms. As he did so, a heavy booted foot smashed into his side. Gasping, the captain collapsed back onto the ground, curling up into a ball as the man before him continued to kick his abdomen. Clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Jim fought to ignore the pain and instead focus on regaining his strength.
"THIS IS FOR RATTING ME OUT!" Greg roared, his kicks increasing in strength as his friends began to laugh loudly.
Faintly, Jim could have sworn he heard Spock shout his name and, eyes opening, the captain bit his lip hard. Blood slowly trickled into his mouth as he kept his watering eyes locked on the Vulcan. Struggling, Spock continued to lash around within the confines of the surrounding men's arms, although it proved to be in vain as his actions earned himself a punch across the face.
Suddenly one of the men holding Spock cried out, a shower of glass falling to the floor as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Falling to the ground, the brute released his grip on Spock and, spinning on his heel, the Vulcan turned around to the final man restraining him, his hands tightening around his neck as he squeezed down hard on the nerve. 'The Vulcan nerve pinch' Jim mused to himself, 'ouch'.
To the captain's relief, Greg promptly stopped kicking him as he turned to face his new challengers. Feeling air finally fill his lungs once more, Kirk sighed as he allowed his eyes to focus on the three blurred figures before him. Ignoring the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, Jim fought to supress a deeply relieved laugh. Before him stood Spock, Scotty and Bones. The latter of the three stood with a smashed bottle in his hand, its jagged edge pointed menacingly towards Greg.
Silence hung in the air as Greg stood his ground before the three men. "And who do we have here?" Greg asked with a small smile, his three remaining friends cracking their knuckles in preparation for the oncoming fight.
The three Starfleet officers remained silent as they stood before the brutes. Glancing towards Bones, Jim was surprised when he made eye contact with the doctor, their glassy surface filled with a concern that Jim hadn't seen before. Forcing a wilful smile onto his face, Jim turned his attention back to regaining his strength. Closing his eyes tightly, the captain pushed away the pain, his fisted hands slipping below his torso as he slowly prepared to push himself upwards.
"Silent bunch you are, aren't you?" Greg smirked as he took a step closer to Bones. "Don't worry. I can make you talk." McCoy held the smashed bottle tighter in his hands, his eyes narrowing as he felt Scotty freeze up beside him.
Glancing to the side, Kirk filtered out their conversation as he spotted a potential weapon. Checking that their attention wasn't on him, the captain reached out with his bloodied hand for the large wine bottle which rested abandoned on a table beside him. Grasping it tightly, Jim glanced to the side. They were still talking… stalling. Smirking, the captain closed his eyes as he gathered all of the energy that he could muster.
In a flurry of movement, Kirk pushed himself to his feet, only as he did, the room instantly spun. Ignoring the movement of the world beneath him, Jim swung the bottle he had grabbed wide, it's fragile shell colliding with the back of Greg's head. With a loud cry, the man fell to the floor writhing in pain, his hands clasping around his ears as blood seeped through his fingers. Meanwhile, unable to stop his momentum, Jim continued towards Bones.
"JIM!" Bones cried as the captain ran straight into the doctor. Pushing his head into Leonard's neck, Jim allowed his eyes to close as the world blurred around him. The warm sensation of Bones's arms wrapping around him as the pair fell onto the ground was a welcome one. Around them, Spock and Scotty moved forwards to tackle the remaining brutes, clearly unfazed by the commotion occurring behind them.
"Bones," Jim mumbled sleepily as he felt a warm sticky substance slip down the side of his face. Opening his eyes, Jim smirked as Leonard's frustrated face moved into view over him. "Thanks for being a cushion…"
The doctor scoffed loudly as his hands began to move over Jim's torso, applying pressure here and there. "Dammit man, you're not a bowling ball! Why'd you pummel into me like I was a pin?!"
Rolling his tired eyes, Jim ignored the comment. "How's Chekov?" Bones sighed loudly as, around them, Spock and Scotty continued to fight the remaining men, shouts and cries erupting as they gradually disposed of them.
"He's fine, Jim. Uhura and Sulu are looking after the kid outside now," Bones reassured Kirk exasperatedly. Content with his friend's chest, the doctor reluctantly began to run his fingers through the captain's hair, his eyes searching for injuries. "Shit, kid, I leave you for three minutes and you get yourself a concussion!"
Smirking, Jim felt tiredness overwhelm him. He was about to make another jest at Bones when, suddenly, Spock appeared above him. "We must leave," the Vulcan stressed, urgency tinged in his monotonous voice. Ignoring the sense of impending danger, Kirk could finally assess his first officer's injuries. Spock's right eye was tinged green and blue from a well-aimed punch, its surrounding socket swollen from the impact. That seemed to be it though. Spock had escaped relatively unscathed.
"Okay," Bones murmured as he looked back down at Jim who, in return, was staring up at the ceiling pensively. "Jim, do you think you can move?"
With a reply on the tip of his tongue, Jim fought to mutter them, his consciousness beginning to slip. Whether it was the alcohol or the concussion, Kirk was finding himself rapidly losing the energy to stay awake.
"We need to leave now, doctor, should the men regain consciousness…" Spock trailed off, as he moved slightly closer to Jim. "I shall carry the captain if necessary."
"That's all great but where exactly are we gonna go, laddie?" Scotty interjected as he appeared in Kirk's peripheral vision. "It's not like we can just pop into the nearest Starfleet HQ!" Noting the panicked tone in his crewman's voice, Kirk managed a half-hearted cough as he captured the attention of Bones once again.
"What is it, Jim?" Bones asked inquisitively.
Gesturing towards his jeans' pockets, Jim shifted onto his side, allowing Leonard to reach into them. Doing so, Bones pulled free a set of keys, their coppery surface shimmering in the dull light of the advertising boards.
Realising that his job was done and that his crew were safe at last, Jim finally allowed his eyes to begin to slip shut. Sometimes the best thing to do was to just sleep and, considering how much the room was spinning and how badly his head was pounding, it seemed to be the best course of action at the time. He knew deep down that Bones wouldn't like it. Hell, the man would hate it but, with eyes locked on the ceiling fan which had begun to spin gradually above him once more, Kirk didn't give a damn.
"Jim?"
With a final sigh, Jim Kirk closed his eyes.
O-=
"I wanted you to know why I couldn't let you die… why I went back for you…"
Breath quickening, chest tightening, heart failing.
"Because you are my friend."
He knew.
Jim gasped as his arms flailed out, his eyes flying wide as his head spun in disagreement at the sudden movement. Bringing his hand to his head, the captain cursed inwardly as he slowly pressed down on his temple. "Goddammit!" Jim cursed as he used his friend's favourite term.
"Congratulations," Bones muttered sarcastically. Jim blinked as he glanced to his right, his eyes narrowing on the doctor.
"What did you do to me, Bones?" Kirk groaned as he looked around at his surroundings once more. "I feel like shit!" The room they were in seemed familiar to the captain, from the dull grey walls lined with books to the large black sofa he was currently perched on. Jim couldn't help but feel as if he had been here before.
"Well," Bones began as he bit his lip. Drawn from his reverie, Jim pushed himself up straighter on the leather sofa he had been lying on, the material sticking to his sweaty skin. Suddenly, however, Bones slapped a hand across Kirk's cheek, his eyes narrowing darkly.
"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" Jim exclaimed as he clutched his cheek in an indignant manner.
"That was for falling asleep," Bones informed him as he got up from the sofa. "How many times do I have to stress this?! Sleeping is the last thing you do when you have a concussion!"
Sensing the worry and relief which laced his friend's tone, Jim sighed as pushed himself up from the sofa gradually. Pressing his toes into the soft carpet which covered the floor, Jim closed his eyes as he sighed heavily, fighting past the pain. Quite suddenly, something clicked.
They were in his living room.
Opening his eyes once more, Jim was surprised to notice that Spock had also appeared. "Um… Bones, why are we in my flat?"
"You gave us the keys, Jim" Bones noted as he turned back to the younger man before him, his eyebrow rising inquisitively. "Don't you remember?" Looking around his living room slowly, Jim noticed the room had been set up with a series of other beds on the floor. The table which had once been in the centre of the room had been moved off to the side, its surface now hosting a variety of medical equipment which undoubtedly belonged to Bones.
After a few moments of silence, Kirk focused once more, his eyes onto the concerned and somewhat panicked face of Bones. Smirking, the captain raised his hand, waving the unvoiced worry off calmly. "I remember, Bones."
"Good," Bones murmured as he glanced between Spock and Jim once again. Reaching out, the doctor preceded to hand Jim a dampened cloth. "Look, I've got to leave you two alone for a minute. It's time for me to check on the kid. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Just clean your faces and I'll be back soon," Bones ordered rather hesitantly. Slowly, the doctor turned and marched from the living room, a hypo and tricorder clasped in his hands.
'Faces?' Jim questioned inwardly as he looked down at the cloth held between his fingers in confusion. Silence fell over Jim and Spock as the Vulcan slowly approached, his eyes locked on his captain's. "Captain." Looking up, Jim's eyes widened slightly. 'Ah, faces.'
"Mister Spock," Jim greeted as he imitated the commander's formal tone. "It's Jim, remember? We're not on duty for another few hours yet, Spock."
"I'm sorry, Jim." Slowly, Spock moved closer to Kirk, his eyes looking down at the younger man as he assessed him slowly. Meanwhile, Jim did the same. Immediately, Kirk noted that the Vulcan clutched a similar compress between his hands. It's surface was already stained with a slight green tinge from the blood which remained dried around Spock's tight lips. "I am pleased to see that you are well."
"And I you." Jim returned the pleasantries as he watched Spock a moment longer.
"Come on then. Sit down, Spock, and spit it out," Jim groaned as he cleared the seat beside him. Looking slightly taken aback, the Vulcan slowly lowered himself stiffly beside the captain, the compress clutched between his clasped hands.
"Sir, forgive me, but the complexity of human terms often confuse me. I can assure you that I am not digesting anything which may –"
"Speak your mind, Spock. That's what it means," Jim explained as he relaxed back in the chair, the exhaustion from the night before still subduing his usual cocky manner. Silence fell once more, the Vulcan's eyes shifting around the room before finally settling back on Kirk.
"Captain, may I ask you… a personal query?" Spock asked cautiously, his eyes purposefully emotionless as they locked on his captain's. Sitting up straighter with a bemused expression on his face, Jim nodded once, his hands moving to press the damp compress against his nose.
"Only if you start calling me, Jim, though," Kirk laughed as he slapped the Vulcan's arm lightly. "Go ahead, Spock."
"One of the strangers in the bar believed he knew you. I have been contemplating how you could have a relationship with this man. They also mentioned a name which –" Spock paused as he noted his captain's face. The amusement which had filled Jim's face had faded now, leaving an empty shell behind as Jim seemed to withdraw into himself.
"Frank," Jim stated calmly as he slowly wiped away the blood from his nose, an injury he hadn't realised he had received. Spock nodded once as he looked down at his own bloodied compress in what appeared to be contemplation.
"Yes, capt– Jim."
"Oh… and I wouldn't say I had a relationship with Greg. He was more of an ugly acquaintance from back when I was younger," Jim explained as he finished wiping his face and moved to press the cold compress against his eye. Raising an eyebrow inquisitively, Spock pursed his lips, one of the few human mannerisms he used.
"May I enquire further, Jim?" Spock pushed slightly, his eyes still on his captain's. "Who is Frank?"
"My stepfather," Jim paused, his eyes narrowing as he slowly brought the compress away from his face.
"Forgive me, captain, but I was not aware you had a member of fa–"
"He's not family, Spock," Jim said sharply, his tone cold as he sighed again. "He will never come close to that."
Spock remained silent as he watched Jim drop his head into his hands and begin to run his fingers through his short blond hair as he tenderly rubbed at the sore skin around his head wound. In those moments, the Vulcan realised there was much more to his captain's childhood than Kirk was willing to tell. He had heard Nyota speak of her family before – although Uhura was a well composed human – and he had found that she only elicited an emotional response similar to Jim's when something 'traumatic' had occurred.
"Captain –"
"Spock," Jim turned back to the Vulcan, their eyes locking. Unlike usual, Jim's eyes were filled with emotion, their surfaces shining with the stories of an eventful past. "One day… one day, I will tell you everything about my past…" Jim paused as he sighed deeply. He was going to have to blame his honesty or the alcohol still in his system. "– and trust me, there is a lot to know… but for now, let's just accept what happened as a… oh, I don't know… a drunken incident, okay?"
Spock paused, slightly struck by the captain's small outburst. The Vulcan was almost tempted to press onwards regardless. However, the desperation which had coloured Kirk's tone towards the end left the Vulcan in silence. Slowly, Spock nodded because he had every confidence that his captain would keep his word. "Of course. Thank you, Jim."
"For what?" Jim asked, his normal façade returning as he once again continued to wipe away the blood from his swollen face.
"For being a –" Spock paused as he considered the word he wanted to use. "– friend."
Jim opened his mouth to retaliate with a smart-ass remark to hide how touched he was when the door to the room flew open and the bridge crew entered. Chekov lead the crew at the front, brandishing an old-fashioned camera that he had found in Kirk's flat. Behind him, a grinning Scotty, Uhura and Sulu also wandered in, dragging a begrudging Bones along behind them.
"GROUP PICTURE!" Chekov exclaimed as he held the camera high. Raising an eyebrow, Spock glanced between the young ensign and his captain.
"Chekov," Bones tried to speak. "You're still –"
"Come on – it'll be nice!" Uhura whined slightly as Bones conceded defeat, moving with the others over to the sofa. Nodding, Chekov began to set the camera up on the other side of the room, adjusting the dials on the camera so that it was positioned perfectly. "You'll remember tonight better this way."
"I think this night was pretty memorable anyway," Bones groaned as Scotty pushed him down onto the sofa on the other side of Jim.
"Although I believe a picture to be unnecessary…" Spock glanced between the crew before resting back into his usual tight posture. "I shall contribute"
"Wow Spock" Jim smirked sarcastically, "You… have your picture taken?"
"If it will raise the morale of the crew captain, I would be neglecting one of my duties not to" Spock recited as Uhura sat down beside the Vulcan.
Jim shrugged as he grinned widely, the crew fully assembled around him, with Chekov being the last one to stumble over as they all posed for the picture. "It's all ready" Chekov guttered as collapsed on the floor beside Sulu.
"CHEESE!"
0-=
The following day, Jim walked into his quarters and sighed. He was back aboard his ship. Striding into the room, the captain threw off his gold command shirt and stretched, a yawn escaping him. It has been a good end to their first day. They were already warping into uncharted space and Carol Marcus had decided to join their crew.
Kirk caught sight of his bruised face in a nearby mirror, his eyes lingering on the black and blue marks for a few moments before he turned, his head tilted to one side as he spotted a mysterious parcel on his desk. Stepping forwards, the captain picked up a small label which was positioned on the front. It was blank.
Frowning as he picked the small parcel up, Jim began to rip away the brown paper which covered the box, his eyes narrowing as it revealed a small cardboard box. Hesitantly, Jim continued pulling apart the tape which held it together. Kirk looked on with anticipation as he proceeded to open the cardboard lid and peer into the small package.
Nothing could ever replicate the grin which filled Jim's face in that moment.
Reaching into the box, the captain pulled out a large silver frame, the glass around it shimmering as he brought his gift close and peered at the picture. Laughing aloud, the captain placed the picture down as he grasped at his ribs, still sore from the night before. Inside the frame was the image Chekov had taken from their last night on Earth.
In the centre of the image sat Kirk, his face covered in speckles of blood as he grinned his classic grin. To his left sat Bones, a large scowl on the doctor's face as he looked down on a giggling Chekov, facepalming Sulu and drinking Scotty. To his right sat Spock, his face as stoic as ever while Uhura sat beside him, a lovely smile filled on her face as she rested his head on the Vulcan's shoulder.
Nodding slowly, Jim made a mental note to thank whoever had done this at a later date. Carrying the frame, the captain moved it over to a small shelf in the corner of his quarters. Placing it down beside a couple of his old books, Jim grinned to himself as he climbed into his bed.
He wasn't just their captain after all. He was their friend.
Next time in Exit Wounds
2- The doomed ship- Sometimes Sacrifices need to be made, no matter the cost.
