It was a hell of a way to die.

Really, it was if you thought about it like Jim is.

Saving his ship, because that's what captains do. He was going to save his crew, his family. He would snatch them from the claws of death and throw himself into oblivion if it meant their safety. And it did. It absolutely did.

So Jim Kirk was actually proud of this death, unlike his other close brushes. Who wouldn't want to be remembered as a hero? The Kirk Legacy: Save Starships since 2233. Not that Jim particularly cared about the title if he was being honest. Nor did he like ending up covered in his father's shadow just like the rest of his life was. He'd thought he'd escape it somehow. But he did beat him with this: dying younger. What a feat. But if his name had to bear that cross for eternity, just so that his crew could live, well, then Jim would do it a thousand times.

He just needed to know that his family was safe. That Bones and Spock were safe. That Uhura and Chapel and Scotty and Sulu and Chekov were all safe. That's all he needed and that's all he got. And all he had to do was die of radiation to do it. Well, that and push a warp core back into alignment. But, hey, he's done worse.


The first time Jim's fingers ghosted over death was when he was eleven.

Frank may have been drinking a little too much than too much. In fact, at that age, Jim barely ever saw his step-father sober. And it was when he came home with the man from school. He'd gotten into a fight with some kid. Why he did didn't matter because then Frank had to get called in from work to pick Jim up. Frank already hated Jim for decimating George Kirk's car. And now he'll hate him for missing a day of work at the job he so hates. And calling an angry Frank in is where it went wrong. When Jim saw the man falter in his steps when he walked in and smelt the liquor on him, Jim knew he was done for. Frank had sat down, and oh had he put on a smile for the principal. Something about disappointment and discipline, Jim heard between the slurred words. Honestly, how the principal didn't pick up on it, Jim may never know.

When Jim got home after the stifling car ride, he simply closed his eyes and waited for the blow. And oh did it come.

Jim was knocked down to the tile by the punch across his jaw.

He could feel Frank's anger with every hit. Feel his rage at being left with his wife's bitch of a son. Feel his pain at having to work his awful security job and come home to a disappointment. Feel his sorrow of never being George Kirk. And Jim could only feel pain. Frank was ruthless, never letting up and not slowing down until Jim's vision grew black and he could feel a sticky puddle of something surrounding him. If he was lucky, it'd be blood.

And Jim can't remember much of what happened after that. Only his resignation of having an image of Frank beating him up being his last sight. And his excitement of finally meeting his father. And of never having to come home to empty smiles, drunken insults, and disappointment. And it was odd, because Jim didn't experience fear with this parting. He only felt joy as his vision went completely black.

Jim knows he woke up two weeks later in the hospital, but can't remember his first week back. That'd be the concussion helping him out. He remembers a nice nurse who smiled so pretty that it seemed to warm Jim's heart. Very few people had smiled at him like that. Jim remembers her explaining what happened to him with her smile plastered on the entire time as if she had vaseline on her teeth. And Jim quickly hated her smile. Frank was arrested, sure. But his mother's coming back, and that means she'd be angry that Jim enraged Frank and that means this was all Jim's fault. And worse, Jim knows that she's just going to leave him after a few days. Probably ship him off to some boarding school. Not unless he runs away, just like Sam.

And then Jim finally saw it: pity. That was in her smile. And so Jim woke up to the world, disappointed that Death had not claimed him, but resigned all the same.


Jim wishes that he didn't have to remember the second time.

This death seemed to take months of agony. He first saw the death of 4000 colonists because of an idiot governor's eugenics system. And he was supposed to be taken with them. And so Jim ran, thinking naively that he could keep himself alive. And then he took in some kids and thought he could keep them alive. Only eight of them made it out. Jim being the ninth.

But he may as well not have made it off the hunk of rock that was Tarsus IV. He knew that he deserved to die. Heck, he was on the list to be sentenced to death!

He almost fulfilled his destiny, too. He was rash and daring and ruthless when it came to his kids. Because that's what they were- they were his. And he would fight for them until his very soul corroded and fell to dust because that's what leaders and parents do. So JT, as he now called himself, faced Death in a battle this time. He had seen Death come for his family numerous times. Sometimes he was able to outsmart him by signing away years of his own life, giving the kids his food, going hungry and thirsty for longer than he should. But JT never died from that. No, Death was taunting him. And JT was not going to leave his kids.

It was only fitting that JT encountered Death for the second time when saving his kids from Kodos and his guards. JT was taken instead. They beat him, they tortured him, they wanted to know where his kids were. And JT wouldn't give them satisfaction of knowing. He bit his mouth until it bled, he took the beatings past the point of crying out, past the point of collapse. Because this would be an honorable way to die if it were for his kids. But JT knew he had to live as long as he could to keep the guards off of them. So JT didn't give in, no matter how many times he simply wanted to give up.

But eventually, Death would have his way, and he came for Jim. Jim, because his strength of JT long faded away, can still remember the last glimpses of the cell he was in. Kodos was watching as his guards beat Jim. They had long given up on the whip, and now preferred to pummel him. And once more Jim felt his body giving up, his strength gone, his will to continue nonexistent. And he let his body give up. Hadn't he deserved his rest? Hadn't he done enough?

So Jim succumbed to the darkness that came over his eyes when he got one too many kicks to the head. Jim was ready to feel at peace, ready to meet his father, ready to leave behind these worlds that held nothing but pain. And Jim knew he'd probably go to hell, how could he not with so much blood staining his hands? But hell would pale in comparison to Jim's experiences. So Jim took it as reassurance and let his last slip of consciousness pass with out another thought.

Jim was less disappointed when he woke this time. Instead of the cell from before, Jim was in a very bright room with lots of medical equipment. But it didn't look like anything on Tarsus or in Iowa. Jim was angered this time when he saw the pity from the Starfleet doctors. It was despicable. He didn't deserve their pity. He didn't want their pity. They were the ones who messed up and they only feel sorry for him?

So Jim ignores most of them, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that he's back, and he's away from Kodos, which was good. But his kids were being taken from him, and he was being shipped back to earth with only a stamp on him that read "Fragile".


Jim can't really pick out a specific third time he shook hands with death. Most of them are all similar, him having an allergic reaction, or maybe too hostile of a "diplomatic" situation. Or it could've even been when Spock was choking him on the bridge after he insulted his mother. His throat had closed up in swelling afterwards, after all. Or even just today with all the encounters with Khan and Admiral Marcus.

But Jim will recognize this one for sure. He can feel his cells dying, the itching under his skin of the radiation and the way his bones almost felt like they were melting. And he was so damn exhausted.

But he was happy. Happy that this death was on his own terms. That his crew is safe for sure. And that's all that matters, anyway.


For once, Jim's happy that he woke up. Confused, but happy.

He came to consciousness with an imposing stream of memories crashing on him like a tidal wave, gasping in the sweet oxygen as his eyes sprung open. He saw a familiar sight: bright white walls and ceiling. And he smelt the sick antiseptic. But it wasn't until he saw Bones' face that he could actually breathe. With Bones came safety. And if Jim was safe then he could breathe.

And then there was Spock. And Jim wanted to cry. They were all alive. Oh God, he did it. He knows he died, how could he forget? But it just didn't seem to matter yet. He fulfilled his duty as Captain to his crew. To his family. And he who challenges James T Kirk's family will fear him as they cling to the devil. Because Jim Kirk would do anything for them.