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Chapter Two
Two days later, Kirk and the remaining members of his crew were herded onto the last shuttle. Reluctant to leave, he had protested until the last moment to be allowed to remain with the Enterprise until she reached space dock but his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Now, as the shuttle entered the earth's atmosphere, the moods of the persons within bounced from highs to lows and back again. Joy over arriving home safe and relatively healthy warred with grief over the knowledge that so many of their classmates would never return again. Survivor's guilt. Excitement at the prospect of being reunited with family. Pride in their accomplishments. Anticipation and fear over what lay ahead for them in this new world.
Kirk pressed his face against the cool glass of the window next to his seat and closed his eyes against the sight of the Earth rushing up at them. Instead, behind lowered lids, he mentally traced every line and curve of the Enterprise and missed her with an indescribable ache. A week earlier, the only thing he wanted was not to be kicked out of Starfleet by the review board. At the time, he was sure that would be the only thing necessary to make him completely happy. He guessed his actions against the Narada had saved him from that fate and now he wondered if he could ever be satisfied serving as a junior officer under someone else's command.
He turned resolutely away from the window and unbuckled his safety harness as the shuttle touched down in the large hangar. He ran a hand through his thick hair, trying to restore it to some semblance of order and tugged on the long-sleeved black undershirt which served as his uniform. A distant part of him was vaguely aware of Uhura holding a whispered conversation with the others as they too rose from their seats.
"Ready to face the hordes?" he asked. "Remember everyone. Smile for the cameras!"
As the shuttle doors hissed open, he watched in confusion as the others ranged themselves around him. He felt Uhura's hand brush his and he turned his bewildered gaze to her.
"If they want a picture, they're going to have to work for it," she said fiercely as she indicated the protective ring surrounding him.
"Jackals!" McCoy spat and Kirk's head swiveled to his left to see his friend's lips twisted into a sneer. He felt his mood lighten in response to this display of loyalty and pressed a fist over his heart in wordless thanks.
The moment was interrupted by the appearance of a young officer poking her head through the shuttle door.
"If you'll come with me?" She swept a hand out to indicate that they should follow her. They stepped out of the shuttle and were instantly made aware of the press. Though the media had been corralled into the far end of the hangar, the crew was immediately assaulted by shouts and the relentless onslaught of the camera lights.
Squinting against the blinding glare, the acting captain and his crew carefully made their way down the ramp and onto the hangar floor. They thought they had prepared themselves and yet found that they stood in a tight, defensive circle, bewildered and overwhelmed by the cacophony of noise and light.
As their eyes adjusted, they were met with a more welcome sight. There, off to one side, stood their families. Kirk noted the instinctive movement each of his crewmates made toward those beloved faces before checking themselves back into the protective circle around him.
"Are you crazy?" he asked? "Go!"
Still they hesitated.
"Go!" He pushed one hand against McCoy's back, propelling him forward and turned to nudge Uhura as well.
His restless gaze wandered over the assembly… searching, searching, all the while taking note of the reunions happening around him as his crew was immediately swallowed up by their loving families.
He smiled to see Chekov fall into his mother's embrace and Uhura tenderly swept up into her father's. Off to his right, he saw Scotty being pummeled in a backslapping hug with two men who, judging by the resemblance, had to be his brothers. Roaring with laughter, Sulu was being passed from one family member to the next.
He felt tears sting his eyes as he witnessed McCoy drop to his knees to sweep his daughter into his arms. Tiny arms encircled her father's neck and Kirk watched his friend raise his face to meet his ex-wife's tearful gaze. As he mouthed a silent 'thank you', Joanna McCoy laid a trembling hand on her former husband's shoulder, connecting them as a family again, animosity forgotten, if only for that moment.
And then a flash of motion caught his eye. Blonde hair shimmering under the lights, wearing a dress the same cornflower blue as her son's eyes, Lieutenant Commander Winona Kirk (Ret.) pushed her way through the crowd. When she was just a few yards from him, she suddenly stopped, her hungry gaze devouring him, cataloging the bruises marring his handsome face, her heart singing, reveling at the very sight of him.
And then they were both in motion and in two steps had crashed together.
Here, in her arms, he thought with relief, was home.
Here was 'safe'.
Kirk turned his face into her neck. As a child, he had always thought his mother smelled like a perfect summer Iowan day. Of fresh air and flowers on the breeze. He tightened his arms around her and breathed deeply of that familiar, comforting scent.
Winona closed her eyes and tilted her cheek against the top of his head. The warmth of his breath against her neck stirred a memory and she was transported back to a time when he was a tiny infant, snuggled on her shoulder after nursing, his breathing little more than sweet puffs of air as he nodded off to sleep. To a time when she could hold him and keep him safe.
"Oh, my baby," she crooned as she rocked him in her arms, oblivious to the explosion of camera flashes. Later that day, countless media outlets on hundreds of planets would carry a picture of Winona Kirk cradling her adult son in her arms juxtaposed against a twenty-five year old image of a much younger woman carrying her newborn off a medical shuttle.
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TBC
