People find themselves defined by their deeds. Some were mentioned through the generations for their impressive discoveries. Others were condemned beyond lifetimes for the atrocities they committed. On every planet through the universe, it was much the same. Great gods condemned, mortals honored, and everything in between.
James Tiberius Kirk, was defined by such. As a child, he was defined by the large record of offences he committed. Very few commented on the intelligence level of his-only one person in fact-the record was all they saw. Academy instructors saw an arrogant recruit basing his choices on luck rather than thought out strategy. Starfleet and Earth came to see him as a hero. Though Jim would never take the credit for himself, his crew was the best and he would make sure all of Starfleet knew it time an time again.
Jim simply saw himself by what he's survived. The obvious incident was surviving the death of his father. No matter how hard he tried, Jim always felt himself buried within his father's shadow. He always assumed it was why his mother could barely look at him as a child, and ultimately why she often went back into space without them. Then there was surviving his journey into the warp core. Yes it had resulted in his death-though Bones constantly downplays his death, dead is dead, no matter how long- that certainly wasn't an experience Jim wanted to repeat. There were a few other close calls in his life. Some left scars that led into the animated tales of Jim's life. But there were other scars, the kind unseen to the naked eye, that haunted Jim the most. Those memories that came up unexpectedly, that caused weeks of nightmares, and nearly caused
him to shut down. The darkest moments of Jim's life that he never told anyone about.

Jim was seated on the floor of his quarters, gazing unseeing out at the passing stars. His back was propped up by his bed, as he certainly didn't have the energy to keep himself upright anymore. His left hand held a tumbler of bourbon he'd taken from Bones desk. He wasn't going to write Bones up for having alcohol in his desk, even if it was against regulation, but it would be a bit hypocritical given that Jim was using it. The bottle was down was few glasses, but it wasn't enough to dull Jim's memories. Apparently not even alcohol was capable of blurring the memories of starving children and murdered civilians. It couldn't block out the cries of emaciated children dying one by one with each passing day, or the screams of the four thousand executed to save the other half. It couldn't block out the face of the man that had nearly taken Jim life's, or distort the laughter that still woke Jim from his nightmares in a cold sweat.

He took another drink and tipped his head back against his bed. They knew something was wrong with him. His crew was smart, that was how they always survived their missions. No one had said a word, but Jim knew they knew. He had felt their eyes on him all throughout Alpha shift. He hadn't make it difficult for them not to notice, the nightmares had left him with little sleep, and even less of him wanting to sleep. His usual cocky, carefree attitude was stoic, frighteningly solemn. Jim was actually surprised that Bones hadn't cornered him in the hall on his way to his quarters. but fi Bones knew the truth, if any of them did, then he wouldn't be alone right now, and that was what Jim wanted. He would tell them, one day, or they would find out. They would know about the truth of Tarsus IV and the hell that the survivors went through to survive. They would know that Jim kept children alive as best he could, doing and seeing things no child should ever have to endure. they would know the pain that Jim buried deep within himself. But for now, Jim let them live in ignorance.

Small, calloused fingers suddenly intertwined with his right hand, spurring Jim to turn. He knew whom he would find. After all, only few members of the crew had override codes to his quarters. Bones had one for medical purposes. But Jim had given these one's to her personally. Athena was still dressed in her uniform, indicating that she had come directly after ending her shift. Her dark green top wrapped around the familiar form of her slim body, hiding her issued black tank beneath it. Her slender hips were encased in her dark pants, and black tactical boots laced to perfection, which she was sitting on. She chestnut colored hair was held in her traditional braid. She was seated next to Jim, her entire body facing his. He quickly found the brilliant jade colored eyes that always captivated him. Eyes that always saw through his bullshit. The arrogance, the cockiness, the stupidity. She saw through everything, so it came as no surprise to him that she knew. One simple look during one of his episodes and Jim had told her everything. Every detail of his time of that planet, every thing he'd done to survive, everything done to him. And when he expected to see pity fill those jade eyes, Jim was once again surprised. What he had seen was a parallel look to his own. The look of a survivor. He knew that she had her own survival story, one that she hadn't told him in full detail. All he knew about was that she was rescued, and then raised, by Christopher Pike.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Athena asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if any louder would change things.

With what energy Jim had, he slowly shook his head. "No."

"Do you want to be alone?"

Jim paused. Did he? Did he want to be alone tonight? It was the reason he had bolted from the bridge and barricaded himself in his quarters. To be alone. Right? So he could sit in the dark and try to drink himself into oblivion. Right? Suddenly an overwhelming sense of fear washed over Jim. No. No, he didn't want that. He didn't want to be left alone in the blackness of his quarters. Not now, not ever.

Jim tightened his grasp on Athena's fingers and closed his eyes. "No."

That small gesture spoke loudly to Athena. She had seen him at his low points and knew how bad things could get. This episode was mild, but even in those moments, Jim had ben known to want to be left alone. She had prepared herself to be quickly dismissed. She hadn't expected him to hold on to her like his life depended on it.

They sat in silence for an undetermined amount of time. Jim's grip never faltering or weakening. Athena made no move to break the fragile situation of the moment. Her thumb gently danced over the back of Jim's hand, subtly hypnotizing him. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel her eyes on him. He made the right decision in asking her to stay. She was an odd comfort to him. She knew his darkest moments, but she never judged him for it or pitied him. She knew what it was like to be pitied and she knew how many people responded. So instead, she simply waited for him to address whatever was on his mind.

"Is there anything I can do?" she whispered.

Jim slowly opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. She was already doing more than was necessary. Athena would never think of it that way. Their relationship (albeit on rocky ground for the second go around) came with these moments on both sides. Neither wanted to drag the other down with them, but neither one could do it without the other. Jim needed her in his moments just as much as Athena needed him. A twisted cycle, but one they managed to use to their advantage more often than not. "Yeah, I think there is."

Athena patiently waited for Jim to continue, but he didn't. Instead, Jim gave her hand a gently pull toward him. Athena moved closer, until she was straddling Jim's lap. Any other situation, she knew where it would go, but Jim wasn't after that sort of comfort tonight. He released her hand and brought his arms around her back. He laid his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. Athena drew one arm around his back and placed the other behind his neck. She slowly ran her fingers through his hair. Jim inhaled a slow, shuddering breath against her shoulder as the first few tears began to fall.

I hope this wasn't confusing. if this fic gets some good reviews, I do plan on expanding with Athena.