Author's Chapter Notes:
I blame the rain and cold, cold weather in Portland for this.
I'm With You ~
Numb fingers pulled the collar of his wool coat closed in a vain hope of trapping his waning body heat. Lengthening his strides, breath puffing out in small clouds of vapor with each exhale, James Kirk fought to shiver in the abnormal cool of late April in San Francisco. It was late, just past midnight and the streetlights glittered off the still wet street, catching wandering blue eyes as he slowed to a stop on the middle of a small bridge. Turning, the young captain stared out into the dark abyss, observing the bright neon signs, the soft shuffle of feet further away, and the echoes of fading laughter. The icy night air slowly crept up his legs through his suit pants, until his body began to tremble, trying to produce heat. He refused to notice, eyes trained on the now clear sky, a velvet black curtain studded with bright pinpricks of light.
He thought the universe was done screwing up his life, done trying to break him, done devouring his soul. Choking down a strangled sob, Jim staggered to the thick concrete railing, bare fingers grabbing the rough surface, allowing the bite of pain to center him for the moment. But as his breathing slowed, the torture of the night came back, lacerating his heart, rampaging through his mind, until all his senses were overwhelmed with the memory.
It was shore leave. A small gathering. The main bridge crew. Camaraderie, laughter, drinks, just a time for connections with those he trusted with his life. Everything was going so well. So fucking well! Then, Jim had to fuck it up. Swearing, Kirk, crossed his arms, fingers burrowing into the folds.
One year, six months, eight days ago, James T. Kirk accepted the fact he felt more emotions and attachment than he should for his first officer. They were the best command team in the federation. They maintained higher efficiency levels, higher job satisfaction, more successful missions than all other ships and crews in the entire Starfleet Federation. Cadets, officers, personnel, ambassadors, sought out the Enterprise and her crew for postings, for missions, to get the job done. Jim would not endanger this synergy for his human emotions. Besides the professional reasons, Jim for all his history was not a home wrecker. First Officer Spock and Lieutenant Uhura were… content. Bones suggested, well suited for each other.
Shifting closer to the concrete guard, Jim wavered, for once letting his feelings for Spock fill him. Pain and sorrow, frustration and attraction, humor and compassion. For that long moment, in the frigid cold on an abandoned bridge in San Francisco, Jim let himself cherish Spock how he wished he could in his presence. Jim let those feelings fill his soul, his mind, until he was overflowing with emotion… eyes dampening, heart racing, grasping for breath. He held on to those emotions, and then as if releasing a captured bird, let them go. To soar away.
Somewhere 20 or so blocks away, while pulling his gloves on, a male silhouette stilled as whispers of positive emotions, of love and care caressed his mind with a bright warm touch.
Letting out one last long deep breath, Jim came back to himself, in control and grounded. He was cold, nose and cheeks red, body shivering in the thin wool coat trying to produce heat. Alone on a bridge, he glanced one more time at the stars, before heading towards Starfleet Headquarters. There was no use wallowing in what would never be.