I'm sure that this has been done in the long history of Trek fandom, but I couldn't help it-I recently watched City On the Edge of Forever, and that moment, at the end, was so poignant, I had to at least have a crack at writing what must have went through poor Kirk's head at the moment. This episode takes your feels and destroys them brutally. I honestly think this is the reason why Kirk never settled down when he got older.

Trek and this Episode belong to their respective creators, also kudos to the author of the original teleplay of this episode (look up the history of it, it's really interesting, but I do like the rewrite for the actual episode better-the one we see on TV). This is just an educational foray and commentary, under fair use.

There were no words to express the joy that Kirk felt when he saw Bones walk through the doors. He was too excited to even notice that Spock—yes, Mr. Stoic himself, shaking the good doctor's hand rapidly and speaking faint appreciation at his turning up, which was a testament to the desperate situation they'd been living in for quite some time. Or maybe the Vulcan really did have a soft spot for the doctor.

The sound of a truck barreling down the wide city road cut the celebration short. He wasn't sure why he noticed it, out of all the sounds of traffic—but he looked behind him, and saw Edith—his Edith, looking just as out of place and at home at the same time in the slums that she worked so hard in—walking towards the happy reunion, without any regard to the danger that she was in. In retrospect, as he went over the moment in his mind for ages afterwards, she must have been distracted, eager to meet up with their spontaneous celebration, and perhaps find an answer to all the mystery men she'd become friends with. He couldn't blame her for not looking, her curiosity and eagerness got the better of her, as it usually did, except this time with...terrible results.

The next moment would be forever etched in Kirk's mind. Bones' frantic plea, his split-second decision to grab his friend and hold him back from the woman he loved—the one woman who lingered, and would stay, forever with him...he thought and wondered that he might have picked the wrong moment. That this wasn't it. Maybe she had a few more weeks. Months. Years even. But no—this was it, it was the only logical way—the smart way, the right way—this could have ended. He grabbed McCoy like he was a lifeline, closing his eyes against the horror that would unfold—did unfold, in front of them. He was a blasted coward, for not looking. But he couldn't bring himself to see her die in front of him—especially since he was responsible for her death. That was it, really. She died because of him. Maybe if they didn't interfere with the timeline, it would have just been the truck driver's fault. Or maybe even her own, for not looking. But there was no qualms about it—he could have saved her, he could have let McCoy save her, and they didn't. And she died.

"Do you know what you did?" McCoy said, seething, angry horror in his voice, as Kirk backed away, leaning against the dirty brick wall, his hand shaking as he stared, unseeing. Edith's place. Now it would fade into obscurity, as would she, and the world would keep on turning properly, as it should.

"He knows, Doctor. He knows." Spock's plain words were somehow reassuring. Reassuring in the fact that McCoy wouldn't deck him suddenly, before they could explain what had happed. Spock did the explaining. He couldn't bring himself to talk about it. Not yet.

He heard people gathering in the street, yelling, crowding around her frail, crumpled form. He still couldn't look at the scene. He wanted to remember her as she was, vibrant and pretty, quick witted and always lovely. Not...not like this.

"Perhaps we should go to the room—if the timeline is restored, the Guardian will be depositing us immediately back to our correct time. We should not suddenly disappear in public, as it were."

Kirk nodded, still staring at the brick wall. He pounded his fist, one more time, against the brick, not caring how much it hurt. A mocking voice whispered in his head.

The Kobyashi Maru. It was truly a no-win scenario. It didn't result in his own death, but of someone who he cared more about than he didn't think would be possible, not in this short a time. There would be no other woman like her, and maybe that's the way he wanted it. Nobody could be Edith Keeler. And he daren't let himself feel this way ever again.

It was only a moment, then they appeared again. The Captain and Mr. Spock jumped out of the mysterious time portal, and that was that. Then McCoy right afterwards, making Scotty's question a little superfluous.

But she picked up on it right away—there was something in the Captain's eyes...his face...his sagging posture. Something had happened in the past—a terrible, horrible thing. It was like a piece of his soul had been torn away. As silly as that thought was, Uhura dismissed it. But there was no mistaking it—she'd been trained to notice nonverbal communication just as fluently as any verbal language. However long they were there—not long enough to age, obviously, but perhaps a month or two?-something had happened to the Captain to create that look of just...loss. It didn't have anything to do with Spock or the Doctor, they both seemed in pretty good condition, surprisingly, especially for the poor Doctor.

"Captain?" she asked, an hour after they'd gotten back on board, and she'd seen Kirk passing in the hallway.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" The same vacant look in his eyes. The taut muscles on his jaw.

"I..." her mouth ran dry. She didn't want to be embarrassed and wrong, but...she knew she had to say something. "If there's anything...anything you need, please. Just let me know."

The words were common, sure, but hopefully he understood. If he was in a better state, he probably would have given one of his lopsided smiles, and carried on.

Instead he looked like he was going to crumple, but thought better of it. There was no way anyone could see Jim Kirk lose it like that and live, she thought wrly.

He coughed, and straightened his posture. But the slightly soft tone in his voice let her know that he understood. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

And that was all. He carried down the hallway. Uhura sighed, knowing she would never find out what it was, but wanting to help, all the same.

"You're very perceptive, Lieutenant," Spock's voice startled her as she came around the corner.

"What?" she jumped a mile.

If Spock could smile, he would have. "I'm merely commenting on your prowess in communication."

"That? That's nothing," she smiled anyway. "Anyone can see what happened. But...you were there. Is he going to be okay?"

The Vulcan seemed a loss for words. That actually scared her more than anything.

"I don't know."

"Time heals all wounds, they say," she placed a hand on his arm. Obviously he was worried, though he'd never admit it.

"Or makes them worse," he said in a low voice.

She made a move to ask, but then thought better of it. Maybe she didn't want to know. It sounded bad, and if it was bad enough to even effect Spock—yeah. She didn't want to know.

Still, she felt helpless.

Kirk stared out at the stars. They sped by, at Warp 3.2, looking exactly like they did the last time he'd stood in this spot, in this room. But he couldn't help but wonder what Edith would think, if he'd brought her here, to see what they'd accomplished. That she had been right, just...like Spock said, not at the right time. If they'd gone back in time some other way, they might have been able to save her—take her back to the future and completely remove her from the timeline. But this really was the Kobyashi Maru. There was no good choice.

"Captain?"

Spock, ever-perceptive, had wandered onto the observation deck. Wandered being a relative term, the Vulcan never went anywhere without a purpose. Bones was right behind him.

"Come to check up on me?" he said, trying to keep the bitter scoff out of his voice. Somehow Uhura had picked up on his mood, and he supposed Spock was here to tell him that he was being dour and shouldn't act that way in front of the crew.

"If you do not wish for my company, I will leave," he said. If he was any other person, he'd have said it in an acidic manner.

"No, I'm...you're right, I...I wouldn't mind the company."

"Your thoughts trouble you."

"Are you gonna suggest I see a counselor?"

Bones cut in. "Nothing in their training would work. Don't think time travel's a class in school, y'know."

This time Kirk managed a small smile, beside himself. "Think the crew's noticing?"

"Other than the fact that your socializing with anyone has been reduced to nothing, there isn't anything out of the ordinary in regards to your leadership abilty. In fact, the experience has probably brought a greater degree of understanding in this aspect-"

Kirk gave him a glowering look. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"I mean no disrespect to the deceased, of course. I'm merely commenting on the logical. I was hoping it would...perhaps, in fact...bring a..."

The fact that the Vulcan was faltering for words made him realize exactly what Spock was doing. The verbal equivalent of a heartfelt pat on the back. Bones looked at him, equally as impressed.

His expression softened. That's when he knew that everything would be all right. Not the same, of course. He wouldn't ever be able to love anyone the way he loved Edith, that was for sure. No one would ever take that place...and he wouldn't let himself fall that hard. Never again. This hurt too much. But his friends were there for him. And that made it all hurt a little less.

"Let's go get somethin' to eat," Kirk said, his appetite finally returning after ages gone. He gave his friends a smile, and they looked at each other, and followed him out of the observation deck.