Depth

A/N: Hey, readers and writers. I've had this idea bouncing around for a while and decided to throw it out there. Uhura hopefully doesn't come across terribly in this story, and hopefully Kirk doesn't either. I'm using Tarsus IV as a major point here.

Disclaimer: Don't own Trek or characters. Only the interactions seen here.

It's odd, really.

Nyota Uhura is the kind of person who likes to think she knows people. Knows their quirks and annoyances, what they enjoy and what they despise, what makes them tick, in essence. Jim Kirk was always easy; ever since he had showed up at the bar in Iowa, she has read him like an open book. It was simple.

In hindsight, she should have known that he was far deeper than anyone else she had ever known.

She first realizes his depth when she cannot sleep; Spock is on an away mission for a few days, and she has grown accustomed to his warmth next to her in bed. Without it, she cannot drift into sleep peacefully, and so she has instead decided to work later and harder, tiring herself out so she simply has no choice but to fall into unconsciousness when she hits the pillows.

With most of her work completed, she heads for the pool to swim for a while, hoping that physical exercise will wear her out quickly enough that she will not feel terrible in the morning. She goes there in a standard one-piece swimsuit, bringing goggles and a bottle of water.

When she enters the swimming pool, a large, open chamber with wide, open windows displaying the vista of stars to match, she notices she was beaten there, although it is already midnight.

Even though he is swimming, she can tell it is Jim Kirk from the way he swims. He moves through the water just as he does everything else: with brutal determination. His arms plow through the water and propel his body certainly around the edges of the pool, never slowing, never ending, and for a moment Nyota is impressed by his prowess.

Then she asks herself why he is at the pool at twelve o'clock at night. Why he is swimming so forcefully. He can't be having trouble sleeping, can he? He's Jim Kirk. He never has trouble sleeping, because he is always sure of himself. Right?

Nyota shrugs and decides to ask him about it when he tires out. It's been three years since the start of their mission; she thinks she knows him well enough to figure that he's fine.

Long ago, she would have questioned why she cared about him, the dumb hick, the farmboy, the arrogant womanizer who cheated on the Kobayashi Maru. During the three years of their mission, however, she has realized just how much of a leader Kirk truly was, and she has learned to respect him, if not befriend him.

Nyota dives into the pool gracefully, just as she does everything else. She does everything efficiently, wonderfully, almost perfectly, because she is confident and sure of herself. That is the key difference between herself and Kirk, she knows; he is arrogant, while she is confident. Similar, but glaringly different.

She swims laps behind Kirk, and she finds herself pressed to keep up with him, lest he overlap her. The challenge is nice, but she wonders why he is pressing himself so hard, at midnight of all times.

Jim Kirk doesn't act like this. He throws himself into tasks with reckless abandon, sure, but not like this. He is swimming like everyone else's life depends on it.

What on earth is the matter with him?

Nyota makes many more laps but is eventually so worn down that she is forced to retire to the edge of the pool, treading water, while Kirk slowes but did not stop. He continues swimming until one-thirty, and Nyota waits for him, curious and, perhaps, concerned.

Kirk stops swimming slowly, and he simply lays on his back in the water for a few moments, heaving great, huge lung-fulls of air. After a minute, he manages to stand on the bottom of the pool and glance at Nyota. His eyes have mischief in them, like always, but she can tell that it is covering something far more sinister.

"Is there something you need, Lieutenant?" he asks, using her title uncharacteristically. Yeah, something is definitely wrong here.

Nyota has the sense to know that she is not welcome in the pool at the moment, despite his act. "Um... no, sir. I was just swimming laps. I can't sleep, so I was trying to tire myself out."

Kirk smirks. God she hates that smirk. "Yeah. That's why you've been watching me at the edge of the pool for the last half-hour."

Well, she knows, she wasn't exactly trying to hide it. "I was wondering why you were swimming so... energetically. Sir."

Kirk raises an eyebrow in a cheap imitation of Spock. "Were you? Well, I couldn't sleep either. There you have it."

Nyota looks at him strangely, and Kirk shifts uncomfortably in the water. Nyota has seen that shift before. After Nero.

They had returned to Earth as the heroes of all the Federation. They had saved Earth, saved the whole coalition of planets it led, saved trillions of lives, and they were all under thirty-five.

Kirk, by far, with Spock close behind, received the most attention. The reporters and interviewers and everyone was always asking him questions. How did he get aboard? How did he manage to gain control of the ship? How this, how that. They couldn't believe how things had turned out. You couldn't write this kind of story.

Nyota had been standing off to the side while he patiently answered questions as quickly as possible. He wore his trademark grin, and the smirk was apparent as well. He fit the role of poster boy easily, perfectly.

Then a reporter asked, "How does it feel to have avenged the death of your father?"

There was a heartbeat of silence, in which Nyota gazed at Kirk's face and noticed that the smirk and smile faded slightly, just a small bit, almost unnoticeable. His eyes became sad and weary. Yes. The eyes definitely gave it away. He shifted slightly on one foot.

Then Kirk was all hero once again, answering the question lamely and stupidly, but nobody seemed to notice or care.

Nyota recognizes his shift in balance and decides to go with her gut. It isn't his birthday, and the anniversary of Nero's return is months away. There shouldn't be anything on Jim Kirk's conscience, at least not at the moment.

"You can't sleep?" she presses.

Kirk creates a cover story and attitude that she can see through, as always. "Yeah, well, being the captain of a starship does have its stresses and strains, you know. I still have more reports to go through and with the recent... encounter on Balmar III..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I guess I'm just... tired, but maybe too tired, you know? Like I can't sleep because there's a lot to do."

Nyota nods. "I'll buy that", she says, and she does... mostly. There is still something there. "But it's one-thirty, sir", she adds. "Don't you think it's a bit late?"

Kirk grins, reminds her of the Academy. "Never too late for Jim Kirk, Lieutenant. Come on, you should know that."

Nyota grins back. "I suppose so. I heard the rumors."

Kirk chuckles. "Me and my friends used to stay up all weekend, sometimes. And when Gaila was with us, we always-" He stops short, closes his mouth abruptly. He didn't mean for her name to come out, but it did. Now he is reveling in ghosts of the past, and Nyota knows it. It's not like him, because the mere mention of her name has never caused this reaction before.

Seeing an opportunity, she says, "It wasn't you fault... Captain."

Kirk looks at her in the eye. "What wasn't my fault?" he asks. He is challenging her. Spock probably would have found it illogical.

Nyota finds herself treading water for no purpose other than something to do. "The... Nero... and his attack... and Vulcan... and Gaila."

Kirk grins, but it is not a friendly, jesting kind of smile; it is thin, and it is the grin that a haunted man wears on his face. "I knew the factors, I knew the information. I knew what was going on. I could have stopped it all if I hadn't been so slow, so... juvenile. If it wasn't my fault, Lieutenant", there was the rank again, "then whose was it?"

Nyota answers automatically. "It was Nero's doing. You have no right to blame yourself."

Kirk's thin smile fades greatly. "I don't?" There is something else in his voice, and it reminds Nyota of a wounded animal retreating to a corner.

She looks away from him, down at the water. "Listen, I know it's all been a bit much, even over three years, but you didn't do anything wro-"

"I think you should leave, Lieutenant", Kirk snaps. "Now." His grin is gone, replaced by a grim line of determination. And Nyota knows it is not determination like she has seen before. His eyes complete the picture. There is... punishment in the eyes. And regret.

Nyota knows she has hit a nerve, and she makes a leap of faith. "Is this why you're swimming so hard, Captain?" she asks. "Blame?" She wracks her memory and find that Kirk is always the last to leave the bridge and the first one there in the morning. He must not sleep much. "How long have you been doing this?"

Kirk turns away and prepares to swim again. "I don't want to make it an order, Lieutenant."

Nyota strides closer to him in the pool. "And what's with using my rank and everything? You always call me Uhura." Kirk sighs and doesn't move away when she makes it within a meter of him. "What's wrong, Jim?"

Kirk turns his head, and she gets the feeling that she is an incessant fly on his shoulder. "Nothing is 'wrong' Uhura. I couldn't sleep. I'm going to bed in a little while." He almost begins to swim, then changes his mind. "Since when do you care?" He looks at her accusingly.

Nyota looks abashed, rightfully so. "I... I just... was wondering if... I was concerned."

Kirk scoffs. "Concerned. Right. Lieutenant Uhura, always the picture of professionalism and etiquette, always shaking her head at her irresponsible, immature dumb hick captain." He shakes his head, and Nyota has never felt the pang of regret for her words that were first uttered in the bar and later repeated throughout the Academy that courses through her now.

Kirk begins to swim again, but Nyota cuts him off and stops him with an upraised hand. "Look, Jim", she pleads. "I'm sorry, okay? You were the one trying to come on to me at the bar. You set your own image up. You still set your own image up." She pauses, gives him an incredulous look. "And you know what? I'm not even sure why you act the way you do. Everyone already knows you're a genius and a great person at heart. Why the act, Jim? Why?"

Kirk's face has turned to stone. Spock looks human compared to him. "I think you should leave", he repeats. "I don't know where the sudden act of compassion and pity has come from, but I don't need it. If you want a pay raise, just ask me." Nyota is slightly perturbed by the fact that he thinks of her so shallowly, but he starts to swim again, and once more she moves in front of him.

"I am concerned, Captain", she says forcefully. "And if I'd known you do this to yourself regularly, I would have talked to you sooner." She sighs as his face remains cold. She wishes he would show some emotion, so she could figure out what he is feeling. "What's got you so closed up? You're not normally like this. The Jim Kirk I know doesn't hate himself."

Kirk's face remains impassive, but his eyes have turned into fire. "You think you know me?" he asks softly, as though tasting the words. Nyota is shocked; she certainly thought she knew him.

"I... believe so", she says carefully.

Kirk's face adopts an oh well look and he shrugs. "Alright. Well, that's to be expected. Good night." With that, he turns and trudges up the steps of the pool, grabbing a towel on one of the benches and beginning to dry off with it.

Nyota takes a moment to shake herself from her moment of blank confusion before racing out of the pool after him. Dripping wet, she manages to position herself between Kirk and the door just in time. Kirk is most annoyed at her hindering his leaving, but even though he could easily move her, he doesn't, and that gives her hope.

"Kirk, what the hell is this?" she demands.

"Nothing", he excuses. "Move, please."

Nyota shakes her head. "What's bothering you so badly? You need to open up." The fire in his eyes almost flares again, and she knows she is crossing dangerous ground. "It's not good to hold in whatever your feeling so terribly about. There are other people out there that know sadness and guilt and whatever else you're feeling." She almost chuckles and gives him a skeptical look. "I mean, if you want, I'm available to talk to."

She gives him a half-smile to reassure him, but it is too late. The fire within him has broken free, the dam has burst open, and there is no stopping it. Nyota had heard Kirk shout before, but never like this.

It starts slowly. "You think you know sadness... and guilt... and", Kirk's animal voice falters for a moment, "hopelessness?" He moves forward slightly, and Nyota refuses to back away, which only adds fuel to the fire. "You know NOTHING!" His shout echoes down the open hallway behind her, and Nyota's face loses all traces of her smile. "You know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about FEAR and ANGER and the feeling that nothing is EVER going to be all right again!"

Nyota opens her mouth to respond, but Kirk doesn't allow her the luxury. "Tell me, Miss Almighty Uhura, have you ever seen genocide? Famine? Have you ever had to lead the children of people you barely knew away from slaughter while their parents BURNED?" Nyota's mouth drops open of its own accord as Kirk leans closer. "HAVE YOU?" he demands.

"I-" Nyota finds she has no voice to respond with.

"Have YOU ever FAILED to such a degree that children that were your responsibility at age TWELVE DIED because you couldn't protect them?" Kirk is raging now, and Nyota knows she cannot run, cannot hide; she must weather the storm, because she has set it loose. "Have you ever been so scared that it seemed as though life was not worth living? That you should end it yourself and be spared the pain?"

Kirk breathes deeply, fully, and he is silent for a long moment before he closes his eyes and opens them, digging into her soul. His voice is lower but menacing. "You grew up with parents that loved and adored you. You have lived a privileged life and you do not know what it is to feel worthless." His eyes still have the fire, but it is controlled now, no longer raging. "Get out of my way", he snarls, and Nyota finds her body shifting aside by itself, her eyes moist with tears.

She realizes in one, horrible moment, as Kirk is striding away from her, down the corridor, that she was completely wrong about Jim Kirk. He is more deep than anyone else in the universe. And her sadness, terrors, and heartbreaks are nothing, insignificant compared to his. She feels like the worst person in the galaxy, and she knows that she deserves it.

They don't talk much, on the bridge, now. When they do, it is in short, clipped sentences and they always end in the rank of the other. There is no friendly banter between them anymore. Nyota cannot bear to show him disrespect anymore, even if there was. If what he had revealed was true, and Jim Kirk never lied, he deserved more respect than the whole goddamn Admiralty.

Maybe that was why he acts so... arrogantly, she realizes. He lost his father, and possibly his mother, and basically raised himself. And he somehow found himself responsible for children and witnessed the deaths of thousands of people... including his charges. And he blames himself for Vulcan. And Gaila and the other cadets.

It is... overwhelming. Nyota knows that if she had had that much to live with, she would have been curled up on her couch crying. She isn't strong enough to take all of that.

Kirk is right, she supposes. She is one of the best minds in the Federation, sure, but she has never known the horrors Kirk had. She has been sheltered.

It's a wonder he didn't throw her into the brig. She had never seen Kirk get angry before.

Even Spock, during his fight with Kirk, hadn't been so passionately angry. So emotional.

So Nyota checks records of events that matched the little details Kirk had provided. She knows she has to make things right.

There. Tarsus IV. Kodos, the governor, ordered the killing of half the population due to famine. Kirk and eight others were the only survivors.

It happened on April 6, sixteen years ago. Two days from now.

That was it, then. An anniversary was approaching after all.

Kirk is in the gym that night. Nyota lets him slam his fists into a punching bag without any gloves. His knuckles bleed.

Nyota is scared; she knows Kirk knows it, too. She's never seen Kirk so volatile. But she approached him anyway at one-thirty in the morning, determined to straighten things out.

Kirk looks up at her but continues punching the bag. "Something you need, Lieutenant?"

Nyota drags up the courage needed to speak. It's harder than she imagined. "I... wanted to apologize for... my prying into your life."

Kirk snorts, delivers a particularly violent punch to the bag. "No you're not."

Nyota is not, she knows, so she comes clean; "I'm sorry you had to go through everything."

Kirk stops punching. He stands taller, looks her straight in the eye. "Everyone's sorry", he replies, and then he strides over to his towel on a weight rack and begins to wipe sweat from his body.

Nyota follows him, but she will not push him the way she did before. "Yes, everyone's sorry", she agrees, "but that doesn't mean you have to keep it all in. You're hurting, Jim. I can see that now."

Kirk ignores her, wipes his face with the towel. She adds, "And I care because you're my friend."

He looks at her strangely. "Really?" he asks. It's not a jest. It's an honest question.

"I thought so", she says. "I mean, you wouldn't have given me the chief communications officer post if we hadn't been more than acquaintances, right?"

Kirk thinks about it for a moment, figures out he's backed into a corner again. The fires in his eyes threaten to ignite. "Maybe", he allows.

Nyota gives him a small smile, and he doesn't explode: progress. "Listen, about Tarsus IV-"

"How do you know about that?" he hisses.

Nyota backs away instinctively. "It doesn't matter", she retorts defiantly. "What does matter is that you are in no way responsible for those deaths. It wasn't your fault."

Kirk looks away from her and moves across the gym to a bag he brought. He sits on the floor next to it and retrieves a water bottle from its depths. Drinking deeply, he says, "No such thing as a no-win scenario, right?"

His words hit Nyota hard. They also give more insight into his mind, his heart. "Is that why, Jim?" she asks softly. She sits down next to him. "Your father? Really? You feel like you can't fail because of him?"

Kirk puts his head in his hands. "Go away", he requests, but not demands.

Nyota reaches out and touches his shoulder. He does not flinch away. "Open up, Jim. It's not masculine and it's not comfortable, but it is the only way to clear this up. Talk to me. I'm not buying your shield of arrogance and carelessness any more. I think you're the farthest thing from confident and I also think you care more about most things than anyone else." At his questioning glance, she repeats, "I'm your friend, Jim. I thought you knew that by now."

He turns away and his eyes leave the gym to a distant place. Then he begins; "All I've ever heard about is my father and the hero he was. How I was expected to do better than him. Far better. And I didn't- don't- want to fail everyone. So I stopped trying to be great like him." He sighs heavily, and Nyota listens, fully aware that he could clam up and refuse to talk again in an instant.

"My mom was always gone. She left me with Frank, my step-dad. He beat me and my brother. He didn't care for us. Sam ran away. I drove a corvette off a cliff." He talks in short, clipped sentences, likely because it is easiest. "I raised myself", he states plainly. "I was responsible for myself. And when Frank sent me to Tarsus IV for bad behavior, I was responsible for a dozen kids during the genocide. Only two of them made it." His head drops considerably, and his voice shakes. "I failed them. Just like I knew I would."

Nyota's eyes have tears now, but she does not let any of them fall. "Oh, Jim, I-"

"Don't", he cuts in with his hand and his words. "I'm not worth the trouble."

Nyota starts to cry. She cannot help himself. She is crying for him as much as for her. She reaches toward him and embraces him awkwardly, trying desperately to comfort his wounded soul.

It doesn't work. Kirk gets up suddenly and makes for the door. Nyota calls his name one final time, but he walks on, leaving her alone.

It is the anniversary. Nyota waits until after his shift on the bridge has finished, then heads to his room. She knows, somehow, that he will be there.

She presses the door chime consistently until it slides open, revealing Kirk leaning on the frame, a half-empty beer bottle in his hand. "What do you want?" he asks, his words only slightly affected by alcohol.

She looks at him purely. "I'm sorry", she whispers again, hoping that this time, it will make a difference. She hugs him tightly and says, so softly she herself can barely hear it, "But you are worth more than any of us, Jim."

He looks at her, long and hard, then backs away. He leaves the door open. Nyota takes this as an invitation and walks in, setting herself on his sofa. Kirk retrieves another two beers from his fridge, and he passes her one as he seats himself next to her.

He reclines, almost in a relaxed manner, but there is a sadness to his movements. He takes a long swig of beer, sighs appreciatively. Nyota takes a sip of hers; it is very good beer. Being a captain must have its benefits.

They sit and drink in companionable silence for a while, and Nyota gets the feeling that Kirk is simply enjoying her company. The clock strikes midnight before long. Kirk raises his drink in a toast, then finishes his beer.

Nyota says to him, "I understand, now, Jim." He looks at her, asking. "You're alone."

He looks ahead, stares at his empty beer bottle. Then he replies unexpectedly, "Not anymore." He tosses the bottle to the floor, and Nyota doesn't bat an eyelash at it. "I realize that now. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of dying. I just want to live."

Nyota nods and leaves him to himself, and she feels like she accomplished something.

The anniversary has passed, and due to her, Kirk knows that he is rid of the burden forever.

------------------

Nyota is working at her station when she receives a private message from the captain. She scans it quickly; it is only one word.

Thanks.

She swivels in her chair to face him, but he is looking out at the stars beyond the view screen. His posture is relaxed and confident, not arrogant. She recognizes the difference now; Kirk taught her.

He is hopeful and fearless and confident and contains far more depth than she could have ever known. She knows who he is, now.

He is Jim Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and one of the greatest people she has ever met.

And now, she knows.

A/N: I hope this piece was as enjoyable reading as it was writing. I certainly liked the finished product. I hope their relationship was interesting and more understanding, more respectful.

So... yeah, that's it. Reviews are nice. Bye.