The adrenaline had worn off. They were out of danger. The Enterprise was undergoing repairs; she would live to fly amongst the stars another day. He was alive, against all odds, with super human blood that wasn't even his own coursing through his veins. He should be thankful. Yet, a part of him wished that he was dead. He knew that it was selfish. He knew that people would mourn and weep for his loss. They would be without a captain. They would be without a friend.
What kind of captain was he, though? He was a captain that didn't respect the chair. He was a captain that let those under his command die because he wouldn't accept the idea of a no-win scenario. For the first time under his command, people had died. Lives snuffed out like candles because he was fundamentally unable to follow simple orders, because he felt like the rules didn't apply to him. The memory of his lost mentor's words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Requesting another shot, he chased the taste away with the sting of whiskey. Slamming the small glass down next to the six others, Kirk let himself, for the first time since waking up, wallow in guilt and sorrow. He knew that it was unbecoming. He knew that it was disgraceful for a captain to sit inside a dive and drink himself into oblivion. He knew that he needed to be strong for his crew.
He couldn't do that right now though.
His crew had each other to lean on while they mourned and cried for the deaths of one hundred and four people on the Enterprise. They did not need the captain that let it happen. They didn't need a captain that got a second chance at life when none of his lost crew did. That was really what killed Kick on the inside. The fact that under his command, his orders, men and women had died; yet, had any of them been given the same second chance that he did? No. None of them had.
And to think, six months from now, the ship would be done. Once that was done, they were sending him on a five year mission into uncharted space. Trusting him with responsibilities that he didn't deserve; trusting him with a crew he didn't deserve. It made him nauseous.
Three drinks burned his throat before he allowed himself to thinking again. This time, he allowed himself to contemplate his own death. He hadn't been afraid to die. He hadn't hesitated in the face of certain death. He hadn't even blinked at the radiation that coursed through his body as he crawled and clawed his way back to the radiation protection door to complete the decontamination process. He understood now why Spock had been so prepared to die for their mission. While yes, the volcano situation didn't need to become a life or death situation, it was the same principle. Feeling like there was no other choice. Knowing that there was only one thing to be done, one thing that could be done. Kirk felt guilty now for snapping at his First Officer.
With that wave of guilt, another shot was taken and a few drops coughed up. At this point, the disheveled Captain didn't know if he could stand up. He didn't know if he wanted to stand up. Standing meant walking out of here. Walking out of here meant returning to a reality he didn't know if he could handle. Living his reality meant being the captain of a ship that he didn't feel like he deserved. No, standing up was not worth it.
Ordering a glass of water this time, Kirk turned in his seat and leaned his elbows against the slick wood bar to stare out at the half filled dive. Many faces greeted him, all strangers. Some were beautiful women, women he would have gone after any other time. Not tonight though. He didn't want the comfort of a woman's touch tonight, because he didn't feel like he deserved to be comforted. Comfort was for those that earned it and he hadn't. The other thing he received that he knew he didn't deserve was gratitude.
Families of survivors from the crew had approached him for days at his bedside, thanking him profusely through tears for saving their son, daughter, brother, sister, father, mother, best friend, lover. Jim had smiled politely, humbly said that he was proud to have them, while inside he died a little bit. He had let people die under his command; he didn't deserve gratitude from those who had survived. They only served to remind him of the faces he'd lost. Suddenly, he regretted not getting to know every single person on his ship. The rational side of his brain reminded him that it would have been impossible to know every one of their names. The other side of his brain venomously argued that he should have God damn tried. Now it was too late.
The grimace on Jim's faces deepened at the thought and he ordered another shot before taking a sip of his water. When the bartender grunted at him, telling him that his drink was there, Kirk turned to grab it without realizing where he had set his glass of water. Reflexes impaired by the alcohol, he was too late to grab the glass before the water spilt down the bar, soaking everything in its path. Including the large, gruff looking man sitting next to him. Offering a mumbled apology, Kirk turn away fully intending to take his last shot and leave the bar. The gentleman next to him had another plan.
"Hey buddy, this jacket is one hundred pure Vulcan silk. You can't even buy these anymore after the bloody planet disappeared. You gotta way you're gonna pay for this?"
The mention of Vulcan touched a sore spot in Jim's heart. The planet he had been too late to save. After the entire Nero incident, Chekov had explained to him that had the drill been stopped a minute or two sooner, the planet would've had longer to evacuate. More lives could have been saved and spared, including Spock's mother. He had felt so guilty and horror struck that he drank two entire bottles of Romulan whiskey before Bones found him curled up in the captain's chair, silently weeping.
An impatient snarl brought the man out of his musings. Kirk turned toward the fuming, waiting man and leveled an irritated glare.
"If it's so rare, don't wear it to some shithole dive where it's likely to get ruined."
The man rose from his seat in a flurry, knocking his chair over in the process. The loud clatter caused the entire room to turn to look at the commotion at the bar.
"Listen, asshole, you spilt your fucking water, you're going to pay for this. Got it?" the man all but growled at the unflappable captain. Kirk offered little more than an apathetic shrug before he smirked bitterly.
"I ain't paying for shit except for these drinks, buddy. So you can sit your ass back down and drink away your materialist sorrow and leave me the hell alone. Sound good? Good." Vaguely, Kirk knew that Spock and Bones would be proud of his use of such a big word. He didn't have time to fully smile at the thought though before a punch connected soundly with his cheek. Sent reeling out of his seat and into the floor, Kirk was dazed for a moment. Regaining his sense of direction and thought, he scowled as he spit out a glob of blood and sat up. The asshole was standing over him with a self satisfied smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.
"Alright, if you wanna dance, we'll dance."