Disclaimer-Star Trek and any music/song lyrics mentioned belong to their respective owners. Also this chapter might run a little bit high on the T rating...

Unnamed Stars

III

Summertime, 2256

San Francisco

Eleanor found nothing about running satisfying. Just the word itself—too elusive, too many definitions, meanings and implications. Yet, she found herself running constantly. Lately she'd been going every morning, at some ungodly time before the sun was even out.

It was misty outside, the weather not sure if it wanted to rain or not, and only a few others were on the same path that she was jogging on. Her feet hitting the dirt, a satisfying crunch to her steps. The humidity was awful as she fought to control her breathing. How stupid was it that people went running for fun. For exercise. Like some people had the leisure to go running without actually running from something. That must be the life, Eleanor thought to herself.

She came to a clearing, a breathtaking scene of the city below her. She should have felt like she was on top of the world. Instead, she bent down, sucking in wind, her heart beating erratically and not from all the running.

She could see campus from her little mountaintop. The sun was trying to peek out and shine down on it. It was a staple of the city and Eleanor had just barely managed to cling on to it.

She was still at the bottom of the rankings, but goddammit she was still a cadet. Two years down, two more to go. She'd be damned if she didn't finish.

"I don't think this is such a good id-," Drew Porter didn't get to finish his sentence, landing brutally on his back, Eleanor's knee in his chest. He let out a cough of air, desperate to try to catch his breath. His eyes were wide, looking blankly up at the ceiling of one of the many Academy gyms. "Definitely not a good idea," he wheezed.

Eleanor smiled like a Cheshire cat, toying with her prey before taking pity on him. Instead of going in for the kill, she let herself sink down, straddling him. Her coy smile turned playful and it was only able to become so because final exams were gone and done and an oppressive veil lifted to allow in a small amount of relief. It was hot and she was sweaty and anybody who walked into the gym in that moment would most definitely misinterpret their combat practice as something else entirely. Drew was too dazed for anything like that though and had not once in the previous months made a move on Eleanor. The situation would have been tragic really, but the heart wants what the heart wants and for Drew that meant a tall, dark, and handsome man.

"I don't understand," Porter said, looking up at her on top of him. "It's summer. Term just ended."

"Ten weeks until Fall semester," she reminded him, wiping sweat off her forehead and panting slightly. "Ten weeks until your Advanced Hand to Hand Combat begins."

Porter groaned from beneath her, scrunching his eyes at the painful thought of enduring more combat training. Fucking hell, he was at the top of his class (and alright he knew that was only because he wasn't in direct competition with James T. Kirk as they were in different cadet classes) and he was unmatched in his specialization— criminal law. That meant that while his brain was gifted immensely his body was better suited for long hours at various libraries rather than being able to take (or better yet, give) any punches. Eleanor was true to her word when she said she would fix that and they meant to carry over their agreement into the next semester, if only because Eleanor knew she would still need help in continuing to secure a spot at the Academy. Though admittedly a friendship was advancing.

Eleanor patted his chest. "Don't worry. Right out of the gate we're going to get you that A, just like last semester."

"What about a small break?" Porter opened one eye to ask. "I mean it is summer."

She let out a deep breath, her body beginning to relax as the adrenaline of fighting left her, before rolling her eyes. "Is it summer?" she questioned. "Really summer? Because around here the work is constant."

"I'm well aware of that," he said, placing one hand on her knee. It was a tiny gesture, one that didn't make her heart flutter, but signaled that after weeks of physical training they knew each other well. She felt his body moving, deep breaths in and out as she sat atop of him. It could almost be classified as peaceful in the gym, until Jim Kirk walked in.

The large doors banged closed as he stopped suddenly, staring at them, a water bottle dangling from one hand. He blinked in surprise, before he fixed an easy smile on his face. "Didn't mean to interrupt," he winked with exaggeration.

"You weren't," she said firmly. She stood up, shaking out her legs, the limbs feeling funny after her workout. She held out a hand for Porter and dragged him up before glancing back at Jim, noticing the sweat on his forehead. "How long have you been here?"

He shrugged. "Got here maybe an hour ago. Thought it was mostly empty." He took a couple of steps forward as did they and he held out a hand for the other man in the room. "Jim Kirk," he introduced, sharp eyes carefully looking over the man.

"Drew Porter," he clasped his hand in Jim's. "We had Statistical Mechanics together right, back in the Fall?"

Jim nodded his head in recognition. "Oh, yeah, with Parsons. You do alright?"

"I got the grade I wanted so I can't complain," Porter said, ignoring Jim's blue eyes, steadily watching him, silently trying to understand why he was working out with Eleanor. Jim knew from Gaila, that Porter had been around the girl's dorm a couple of times. If there was anybody on campus who probably got just as much attention as Jim did it was Drew Porter. He had never interacted much with him though and he was starting to wonder, no more like question, the mystery behind the other man. He had to have come from somewhere, a planet not known to many and Jim wanted to know even if curiosity usually killed the cat.

Jim nodded at whatever the guy had just said, briefly cutting his eyes to Eleanor who was picking up her backpack. "I'll let you have a break," she told Porter. "Just this once."

He smiled back, obviously understanding the meaning behind the words. "I'll see you around." He nodded his head at Jim. "Good to see you again."

"Yeah, you too," Jim said as the guy left the gym before bringing his attention back to Eleanor. They naturally fell in step together, heading towards the same place.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a ship somewhere?" Eleanor asked.

"The Farragut," Jim said speaking of his study placement on the spaceship. "Yeah, until December."

Eleanor pretended to think about his time away. "I think McCoy is going to have the best summer ever."

"I, no, no I don't think that," Jim corrected. "He's really rather clingy."

"Clingy," Eleanor repeated, like she wasn't sure if he'd really said that exact word. Jim nodded to tell her he had. "I'm not sure that McCoy thinks that."

"Oh, he does," Jim assured her. He swiped his ID and held open the door for her. They began the trek up the stairs and Jim watched Eleanor. Only occasionally he'd found himself walking up the stairs with her by his side. On each of those occasions though he noticed that the five flights of stairs, and the extra flight to get up to her sixth floor, never bothered her. The physical activity never made her lose her breath or slow down her movements as she walked up to her dorm.

"Where are you going?" Eleanor asked, her brow wrinkling as they passed his floor.

"Nowhere," Jim said innocently. He followed her to her door, where she gave him another look. "I just wanted to make sure Uhura remembers about drinks."

"Drinks?" Eleanor furrowed her brow again, not having heard about any plans.

"Yeah," he said. "I know most people have left, but this will be my last Friday in town. Bones and I will be in our usual spot, so come by."

"I don't know when Uhura is leaving for her internship," Eleanor told him.

He waved it off. "She'll be there. She wouldn't crush my dreams like that."

Eleanor made a funny noise in the back of her throat. "Would she?"

"Don't break my heart," he warned. "Do you mind if I wait here till she comes back?"

She opened the door with a warning: "You know if she even finds you on this floor she'll kill you."

"I'll take the risk," he winked and breezed past her even though it was her dorm to begin with. She was left to follow him in and he quickly plopped down on her bed. It sank underneath his weight. "You guys have any food in here?" he asked. She gave him a pointed look and he shrugged, not abashed at all to have asked for the free handout.

She moved around the tiny room, shuffling clothes to a drawer and throwing a PADD down on her nightstand. She started to unzip her backpack when Jim got up.

"Your chair spins?" Kirk exclaimed. He spun around in the desk chair.

"Yours doesn't?" she snorted.

"No," Jim told her, pouting as he pictured his plain desk chair. "It doesn't even have wheels."

"No wheels!" Eleanor exclaimed sarcastically as she took out a PADD from her bag. "Who did you piss off?" Jim opened his mouth but she quickly cut him off. "No, I don't want to know. Knowing you it's more likely a story of who you haven't pissed off."

"I haven't pissed you off," he pointed out.

She gave him a cool look, done deliberately for the sake of humor and he knew that, his grin matching her comedy. "Not that you know of," she joked coyly.

"God, I love the women on the sixth floor," Jim proclaimed, spinning one more time in the chair for good measure. He stopped right at the desk, hands nimbly moving through the different piles of PADDs and notebooks. "You write in journals." he noted.

She ducked her face, avoiding his gaze as she looked down at the paper. "A neighbor of mine used to teach elementary school – at this really, really, nice, private school. She'd always be given small journals or pretty pads of paper as novelty gifts from her students, because they were the type of people who could afford them. She never used them though so she'd give them to me. When I was little I'd color in them, but I also liked to pretend sometimes that I was somebody important, like a business executive or Starfleet Officer and take notes in them. I like the feeling of the pen or pencil pushing into the paper. There's something about it that feels good, like cathartic or something."

She broke off suddenly, realizing she was rambling. It wasn't exactly an intimate detail of her life. It was an honest detail, but sometimes it was those types of tiny, honest admissions that gave away more than the person meant to. Jim might have sensed that too as he looked at her in interest.

"I had a neighbor that worked in a box factory."

"What?"

"A box factory," he nodded his head. "Well, really they built all kinds of crates and storage things, but sometimes he'd bring back these massive cardboard boxes," Jim explained. "So he'd give them to us. To me and my brother and who else happened to be around the neighborhood. So we'd have this huge box and we just pretended it was whatever we wanted it to be. Most of the time we'd cut it up and try to build a rocket ship, not that it ever really came out looking like an actual one, but we always thought it looked cool. And we'd just play in these cardboard boxes."

She inclined her head to the side, studying him.

He shrugged his shoulders at her wonder. "I guess I just mean to say that paper should be appreciated more." He glanced pointedly at one of the PADDS on her desk. "I know we rely on all this stuff, but in a lot of ways we got here because of paper."

"You are a poetic philosopher," Eleanor replied, teasing, but her voice was soft and plain, emitting that she touched a truth.

"Mostly poetic," Jim replied, squinting his eyes as he thought about it. One thing about Jim Kirk was that he was great at reverting to his sillier side. Serious one second, a split second later back to his sarcastic self. Humor was such a large part of Kirk, but in a lot of ways it was his barrier.

And everybody, including him, knew it.

Drawn back to his usual antics he flipped open a journal, flicking through notes and to-do lists before stopping at a certain page. "What's this?" His voice betraying his actual confusion and curiosity at the pages in front of him. His eyes roved across them, the story enticing him to keep reading. "Is this…" His eyebrows raised, boyish delight on his face as he began to laugh. "Holy shit, does Eleanor Sayer write erotica?" He looked up at her. "I mean I knew you took creative writing, but this is a bit racy by Starfleet standards anyway."

Eleanor should have been embarrassed. In fact she was, but only about Jim reading her writing. It was only ever on a whim that she'd write something down. Wishful thinking that she could produce a story that somebody would want to read, and no less pay her for it. Being a published author for Eleanor meant quite possibly the same thing that being a captain meant to Jim. Except that would always be a secret desire, one that'd float in her head and just as quickly float away as she thought about bills and the fear of not being good enough.

"You're writing porn," Jim stated, holding up her writing.

She rolled her eyes, moving to a stack of clothes that needed to be placed in her closet. "Probably," she admitted and the admission took Jim by surprise.

"So…" To the classic man whore, this was almost too good to be true. "This is what you do in your spare time…write porn?"

"It's not porn," Eleanor retracted her words making Jim's eyes narrow at her. "If you'd stop reading just the dirty bits you'd figure out that it's actually a love story."

"A love story," he repeated the words dryly. Nevertheless he actually flipped through more of the pages looking for the non-dirty bits. There weren't any though.

"Okay, the whole things on my laptop," she defended. She liked to write via pen and paper, but she had to admit getting a 90,000 plus worded story written out was better done on a laptop. Less messy that way.

It was no use as Jim began to read her work aloud. "'If you trust me,'" Jim spoke in a fake deep voice, taking liberties with how her male character would actually sound. "'You'd show me. You'd get on your knees and tell me with your mouth, not just that you love me, but how much you love me.'" Jim's brows furrowed, clearly not satisfied with the protagonist. "She did love him," he continued reading, dropping the funny voice now that it was only narrative. "So she dropped to her knees, staring up at him through her lashes, unblinking as she unzipped his pants and palmed him…." Jim Kirk stopped reading aloud, but she watched him silently read, his eyes flying back and forth as he followed the words. She just stood and watched him read.

Originally, his voice had been teasing, making fun of her work, something she should have been more upset at. As he continued to read, his face creased as he slowed down, absorbing the words and imaging the scenario. There wasn't much for him to imagine. He'd had some amazing blowjobs in his lifetime and he couldn't blame the man for having a woman down on her knees for him. The question though was why the hell was this chic in love with some asshole dude.

"Is this what you think is love?" James asked, his brows knitted together. While Eleanor had had one or two conversations with him where he dropped his class clown persona, she was taken aback at his seriousness. His intense blue eyes didn't stray from her face as he waited, intent on receiving an answer. When Eleanor didn't formulate a response he repeated the question, his eyes only leaving hers to glance back at the writing. "Is this what you think love is?" he asked, standing up. "Porno office sex."

She wanted to laugh at his serious expression. "Why are you so concerned?"

"Because I don't want you to think that this is what you have to do in order to get a guy to like you."

The statement almost knocked the wind out of her, coming from James Tiberius Kirk, the womanizer extraordinaire that was notorious for his night time (or anytime) play dates.

She stared up at him, taking in his face that suddenly appeared older than it normally did. His clear blue eyes were big, but the normal hopeful spark in them was gone, instead replaced by concern and she was reminded of how often she would carefully watch him surveying the bar that he and his mates were drinking at, constantly watching to make sure his friends were safe and accounted for. It was those moments, the moments when Eleanor would catch him bucking his reputation as only being a playboy douchebag that just so happened to be a genius, that she could understand how leadership was a natural fit for him. It wasn't his ease at public speaking or being the life of the party—it was his dedication to making sure his friends were always okay.

He might not care about himself, and he certainly pretended like he didn't need to be cared about by others, but he certainly cared and was even sentimental towards the friends he had made so far during his time at the Academy.

"You're going big brother on me," Eleanor realized.

He blinked. "No," he said out of habit. "I mean, I'm just saying." He scratched the back of his head before trying again. "I'm just saying. You're young and I don't want you to go around thinking, you know in today's society with books like these," he held up the piece of work. "And movies that show girls agreeing to do whatever the guys say and."

Kirk was officially rambling, but his worry was justified. It was an unfortunate fact that women still had to work hard to shatter that glass ceiling despite the large number of kick ass women who had not only worked towards but shaped United Earth and the Federation. It was still an uphill battle at times and it was nice knowing that Jim Kirk valued a woman's strength. He didn't want Eleanor thinking that her duty in life was to have sex with guys, for their pleasure. She was fortunate enough to have been raised by a strong woman who had taught her that.

She cut him off. "I know the difference between love and hot and horny sex."

Her even keeled tone shut him up, surprised at her words. "You do?" he sounded unsure.

She nodded her head, taking one step towards him. "Do you?"

"Of course," he lied. Not that he thought it was lying. It's just when one had never been in love all sex was….well, then it really was just hot and horny sex.

Eleanor's movements had been so subtle that Kirk didn't realize just how close she had gotten until she delicately picked her journal out of his hands. "Then you would know that you didn't read it right," she said, her voice gentle and calm.

"I know how to read."

She smiled slightly. Obviously, he knew how to read. "I mean," she explained that Kirk hadn't read any of the novel's exposition. "It's about Olivia pushing through her shyness and being willing to express her love through sexual acts. Even then it's not all about the sex."

Jim didn't believe her. "It's not?"

She shook her head, taking one more step towards him despite Jim thinking she was already impossibly close. "It's about the closeness and the willingness to submit to somebody so openly. It's easy to have sex with somebody in the dark after rounds of tequila. It's easy to have sex with a stranger when you never have to see that person again. When you never have to see them again and think…I know you've seen me naked and vulnerable." Eleanor had to lean her head back in order for her to stare into Jim's eyes. He honestly didn't know if their chests were pressed together or if it just felt like that because he knew she was so close to him. "But it's harder to have sex with somebody when you also want to keep that person in your life."

He swallowed and tried to regain his teasing charm. "Are you trying to seduce me, Miss. Sayer?"

"No," she said point blank. "But that's what I'm saying, Mr. Horn Dog. I know love isn't just hot and horny sex. It's also about the ability to just be close to someone."

"Do you really believe that?" Jim asked. "A person can stand close to somebody. It doesn't mean that's true love."

"You're right," she admitted. "But I'm guessing you don't like it when a person stands too close to you when you're checking out at the grocery store and I doubt you're so keen about divulging secrets about yourself to others. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that it's hard to open up to a person. Sexually submitting yourself is one way." Her green eyes held steady against his. "But just one way."

"The other ways?"

"Have you ever been this close to somebody before and not had sex with them?" she asked. "Have you been able to stand this close to somebody and just have a conversation with them. To feel comfortable enough to do so."

He thought about lying. "I don't know," he said instead.

She tilted her head as she looked up. "What's your favorite song?" she asked.

"What?" he stuttered before racking his brain for some sort of answer. "I don't know. I'd say any things fair game from the album Ill Communication."

"Ah, late twentieth century alternative rock," she nodded knowingly.

He didn't like that. He didn't like that she knew about the Beastie Boys, that she seemed to understand how their songs so perfectly fit together with James T. Kirk. "What's your favorite song?" he questioned.

"I don't have one," she responded easily, the closeness of Jim not affecting her at all. It didn't necessarily bother him, it was just unnerving that she could press against his chest and speak to him in a normal voice, like it was completely normal to hold a conversation like this.

"But you're constantly singing songs," Jim argued and he briefly wondered why he was trying to pick a fight.

"I know," she agreed. "I have too many songs I like to just have a favorite. I used to like to keep track of my favorite lyrics. With school though I don't really keep up with it much any more."

"Really?" His face softened at her admission. She always seemed so human to Jim. He wasn't sure if that's how girls wanted to be described as, but he liked that Eleanor was human. That she had quirks that she was so open about and that she was this kinda messy personality that rolled with the punches. "What's your favorite lyric at the moment?"

"Cheated and lied, broken so bad, You made a vow, never get mad, You played the game, though it's unfair, They're all the same, who can compare?First you lose trust, then you get worried." Eleanor hummed the tune, the song flying through her mind. "First you get hurt, then you get sorry."

As she sang she never looked away from Kirk, a closeness growing.

She stopped the little tune, her green eyes dark as she pushed the boundaries.

"What's the most perverted thing you've ever done?"

Jim could feel the shock on his face at her question. So much for his suave personality.

"Um," he struggled to answer. Sure, he'd done some weird shit—plenty of threesomes, but maybe nothing hard core erotic. Shit, he really was just a simple farm boy at the end of the day.

"It's okay," she smiled, suddenly taking pity on him. "You don't have to tell me."

One of her hands landed on Jim's chest, the cotton t-shirt soft under her hand. He suddenly realized that he hadn't taken a shower after his workout, not that she had either.

"Turn around," she commanded, her voice still barely a whisper.

"What?" His heart skipped a beat and he knew she could feel how fast his pulse was under her hand.

"Just do it," she said, her voice firmer this time.

Slowly he turned around so that she was facing his back. He'd been in this position plenty of times…except he hadn't. He was normally the one controlling the situation. He was normally the one giving out commands and making the smooth moves that he was well known for. His brow crinkled as he began to grasp at the web she was weaving.

"Imagine all the different hues of love out there," she whispered. She had to be standing on her tiptoes to be as close to his ear as possible. "Imagine standing with a smoking hot girl, James T., and not having hot and horny sex."

She pressed a kiss on his shoulder blade and he took a deep breath.

Eleanor stepped back from him and his shoulders relaxed, the tension and worry of having her stand so close to him evaporating.

"You should go now," she went back to talking in her normal voice, no more soft whispers. "Uhura's supposed to be here any second and she'll have my head if she sees you standing around."

Jim turned around his mouth dropping open at how quickly she could turn something off. Something off. He wanted to slap himself. There was nothing to turn off. Whatever that had been, whatever it was, it was only her making fun of him.

"Seriously go," she nudged him towards the door.

Instinctively his heels dug in, needing to make some sort of smart-ass comment. Unfortunately, words seemed to be failing him at that moment. Some type of strangled noise lodged in the back of his throat, never amounting to anything and too quickly he was thrown out of the dorm. Stunned he turned back to the closed door, noting the grey color and one word flashing through his mind: fuck.

"It's my last day on Earth and you think I want to go to that stupid little dive and drink with Kirk?" Uhura's tone sounded disgusted, matching the expression on her face.

Gaila rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. God forbid you miss some time with whatever little boy toy you've got going on lately because your classmates want to hang out with you!"

"I don't have a boy toy!"

"Bullshit!"

Eleanor sighed, looking up from the textbook in her hands. She'd had one week off, this one which immediately followed final exams. She had been serious when she mentioned to Drew Porter that Starfleet cadets didn't get the summer off. Almost everybody had an internship or work study program lined up and the few that were staying behind on campus, like Eleanor, were taking courses.

On Monday, she would be starting Tactical Training in addition to another communications course. She was nervous about the latter, not having an ounce of skill in languages or communication programs like Uhura. She had downloaded the syllabus already and was presently trying to skim the introduction for one of the main textbooks, but Uhura and Gaila's tiff (little arguments were becoming constant between them) was loud enough to be heard in her bedroom even with the door shut and the space of the hallway in between the two dorms. It only got louder when the door opened, Helga walking in.

"Hi," Eleanor greeted.

Helga barely looked at her, a blank expression on her face as she padded to her bed.

"Are you okay?" Eleanor asked. They got on pretty well as roommates, so it was unusual for Helga to not even crack a smile in hello.

"I'm fine," Helga snapped making Eleanor's eyebrows raise. Helga immediately looked regretful. "I'm sorry," she apologized in a shaky voice. "I'm sorry," she muttered again. She slipped off her shoes and curled up underneath her bedspread still fully clothed. She turned towards the wall and Eleanor silently accepted her apology. There was no point in getting upset when Helga clearly just needed space.

Eleanor assumed the other girl was dozing while she went back to her textbook until about an hour later when there was a knock on the door.

"Hey," Gaila leaned up against the doorframe. "So, I finally convinced Uhura to live a little and go to Kirk's goodbye drinks."

"How'd you manage that?"

"I told her that in reality it was just a chance for McCoy and her to toast an entire six months Kirk free. It was pretty easy for her to cave in after I pointed that out. You guys coming?"

"I am." Eleanor looked over at Helga. "You want to come out?" she said in a softer, soothing tone. She wasn't sure if Helga would even respond, but she did.

"I'm not sure," Helga admitted.

Gaila walked over from her spot at the door to gently sit down on the edge of Helga's bed. She hadn't witnessed Helga's earlier snipe, but it was easy enough to tell that the cadet was having a bad day.

"I can help you get ready," she offered. "I can do your hair."

Helga stirred under the blankets. "I…"

"Come on," Eleanor added in. "It'll be nice to get out of this dorm for a change."

Helga agreed with that. She sat up, paler than usual and Gaila smiled at her, giddy to begin playing with make up.

After two hours of Gaila's insistent primping and prepping the four cadets found themselves in the smoky, and sweaty, bar that was jammed pack on a Friday night. Eleanor had pushed herself through the crowd, managing to slip through to the bar. She waited to be served, not bothered by the wait. She would eventually get her alcohol even if the barmen were overwhelmed with the crowd. One of the workers who knew her, winked at her from down the bar and she knew he'd get to her next.

"Hey."

A body appeared next to her, elbows resting on the bar. She turned to spot Jim Kirk's easy going smile.

"Hey," she replied back before turning her attention to the barman. "Guinness please."

The young man nodded at her before looking at Kirk.

"Budweiser," he ordered. "And hers is on me."

He bobbed his head at both of them, doing his job by serving them.

"You don't have to do that," Eleanor told him.

Jim shook his head. "Nah, it's nothing," he said.

"I'll get the next round," she promised.

"No," he said instantly, his eyes staring straight at her. "What's the point of treating a girl."

Eleanor fought the urge to roll her eyes, instead narrowing them as she took the glass bottle. "What are you going to do with all those smooth lines while you're on a spaceship for six months?"

"Shore leave," he smirked.

Eleanor laughed, shaking her head. She spied their friends a little ways off, crowded around a tall table they had grabbed. She brought her focus back on Jim, slipping her hand into her messenger style purse. She held up an envelope, made of white paper which enclosed one piece of paper and a data drive.

Jim looked at it. "What is this?"

"It's for you," she told him. She moved it right in front of his nose, forcing him to take it. Even then he looked down at it, unsure of the gift. This time she did roll her eyes at his confused face. "It's a going away present," she explained, wishing he'd stop looking at her so funny. She was just being friendly. "It's a page of lyrics."

"Lyrics?"

"Lyrics," she confirmed. "Your kinda lyrics."

"My kinda lyrics?"

"Maybe," Eleanor amended. "More like…lyrics that have got your number."

Kirk raised one eyebrow. "Is that so?" He watched her carefully.

"There's also a file in there," she went on, nodding at the envelope. "It has another story. A better story." She leaned in like she was conspiring. "One with less sex."

"Less sex?" he sarcastically replied. "What kinda story is that?"

Eleanor shook her head at his antics. "Probably a stupid one," she admitted. "It's not very good, but I don't know. You'll probably be too busy playing around in the stars to read it, but if you have a chance…" She let the sentence linger. She didn't need him to read her work. She wasn't looking for some kinda good critique from James Kirk. She just thought, maybe it would be nice to give him a type of peace offering, a way to move past their discussion on erotic books and fanciful talk of love.

"Thank you." Jim held the envelope close to him, carefully placing it in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. His blue eyes showed how grateful he was and then the moment was gone. She turned to walk towards their friends, Jim following her through the crowd.

As she walked she caught sight of Helga, standing among the group. Somebody, somewhere among the crowd dropped a glass bottle, creating ripples of movement, but Helga didn't seem to notice anything that was happening in the bar. She was just there…but barely.

July, 2256

Texas, United Earth

"I didn't know you were coming."

Eleanor paused on the steps, looking up at her mother who had come out to stand on the porch after spying her daughter walking towards the house through the kitchen window.

"You invited me," Eleanor reminded her, still staring at her mother.

Throughout her life, Eleanor's mom had made her mouth drop open upon occasion, but today she had every reason to stare at her mom. Simply put she looked like shit. In the past year her mom had grown gaunt, and standing with her hand on her hip just highlighted the sharp angle of her elbow. She was all skin and bones and though she was young for being the mom of a girl who was close to turning eighteen, she looked haggard and the youth had diminished. Her blonde curls were brittle and lacked their normal shine.

Her mother seemed to be standing nervously, making Eleanor wonder what the hell was going on, because her mom had never once looked at her like that. Well, okay maybe one time when she hadn't wanted Eleanor to enter the home because one of her boyfriends had trashed the house in a foul mood, but that had been in order to protect her daughter. This time it was different. Eleanor couldn't explain how, it was just a funny feeling she was getting.

"Well I didn't know if you were coming," her mother responded. She bounced on her feet, anxious energy abounding. "You never replied to my messages."

"Sorry about that," Eleanor said and really meant it.

There wasn't much to her childhood home. It was a small home, a rectangle box with faded blue siding. There was a small front porch made out of wood (some of which was beginning to rot) and for the most part growing up hadn't been horrific in the tiny home. She had her own bedroom growing up and the carpet had always been soft when she used to play on the floor. Sure, people in the small town could certainly turn their noses down at those in less fortunate positions but Eleanor had never been wanting for love despite growing up in a one parent household. A couple towns over there was United Earth low income housing, but her mother had wanted to own her home and this was all she could afford.

Eleanor hitched her backpack up higher on her shoulder, climbing up the steps and rejoicing in the air conditioning that was on full blast. It'd been a two mile walk from the Transporter to her childhood neighborhood, which was easy enough, but Texas heat in July was stifling.

"I made some tea," her mom declared, bustling around in the small kitchen. "And I bought that fancy cheese you always liked."

Eleanor smiled. Her mom might not have been sure that she was coming, but she had prepared anyways.

"You're a gem, mom," she told the older woman, grinning. Her mom stopped her movements, looking like she was embarrassed for being called out on her good parenting skills. Eleanor thought suddenly that maybe her mom was unused to being complimented and a pang of regret hit her. Why hadn't she thanked her mom more?

"Here." Her mom shoved a plastic cup of iced tea into Eleanor's hands.

"Thanks," she said before sitting down at the kitchen table with her mom sitting across from her. "Mom," she began and her mother shook her head, cutting the question off before it even started.

"I'm fine," she breathed, closing her eyes tightly. Anguish was laced through the movements, painful anguish.

"Mom," Eleanor said again.

"I didn't want to worry you," her mom said. Her voice sounded funny, husky and watery. It was the voice, along with her mother's appearance that was making Eleanor's worry elevate. "I mean you have so much going on and I didn't want you to stop, especially when it would have been pointless because there's nothing that can be done."

"Mom." There was so much wrapped up in that one word. It made Ms. Sayer open her eyes and see the concerned facial expression her daughter was wearing.

Taking a deep breath, the older woman felt a bit dizzy despite sitting down. "I just didn't want you to worry," she stated again, her voice still tiny. She tried to smile, but it broke a little as hot tears prickled her eyes. The tears had come from nowhere, she swore. They were just suddenly there, despite all the crying she had done the past few months. She reached out to grab Eleanor's hand, trying to do that little smile again, hoping it would work this time. "Listen," she looked directly in her daughter's eyes. "I wanted to give you the world and I'm sorry if I failed a little bit there."

Eleanor's chin wobbled, she shook her head trying to rebuff the apology.

"I don't want you to think this means you should come home," her mom instructed. "There's no point and Sue has been so nice and helpful lately."

"Mom," the name ripped from Eleanor's lips, her chest constricting in pain that had so swiftly encased her.

Ms. Sayer shook her head again. "It's okay," she said even though it wasn't, but dying women could say what they want. "You're so strong, Ellie. You are the best thing about me."

That couldn't be true, Eleanor thought. It couldn't be true.

Do you guys like it or should I hide my face in shame for this chapter? I know Eleanor and Jim have one heck of a weird friendship (and we're just at the tip of the iceberg). Anyways thank you for reading/following. As always, I love feedback and feel like it's my only way to get better as a writer so if you could please take the time to review I would be eternally grateful! :)