So, this is the Pike chapter. I can't even. I'll just be over here with my ice-cream. Feel free to come join me and we'll drown our sorrows in cookie dough fudge delight.


Christopher Pike hadn't been sleeping well in weeks. He'd had troubled dreams for years and had always considered them as a form of payment to the universe for his many mistakes.

After his encounter with Nero they had gotten worse, but he'd expected as much. Part of his rehabilitation had been psychological as well as physical and he still had to clock in hours with a fleet shrink once a month. They talked about Nero and what had been done to him and more importantly, how to handle his propensity to hoard guilt. Nero had gotten exactly what he wanted after less than an hour and Chris had to live with that knowledge. And of course it wasn't just that. The destruction of Vulcan, the near destruction of Earth… that was just the cherry on the top of a very large cake.

It was one of many personality flaws. One that he acknowledged and accepted and talked through with trained professionals so it didn't rear its ugly head when he wasn't expecting it to.

He was mature and adult about it, though he hated every minute. He had a responsibility to be mentally healthy when so many people relied on his judgment and advice.

There were times when he thought it was his duty to convince Jim of the same. He knew that it was irrational to expect one man to house the kind of demons Jim did and not expect them to blow up in all of their faces, but at the same time the kid was so good at keeping a lid on them that he feared what would happen if he was forced to let them free.

It was a conversation he'd had with McCoy many times, most recently when the doctor had drunkenly confessed to injecting Jim with a remote medical monitoring device. The invasion of privacy was astronomical and Jim would not see the humor in it when he found out. Ultimately though, Pike had agreed the step had to be taken. Jim simply couldn't be trusted with his own health because despite all claims to the contrary and all evidence that suggested otherwise, there was not a single person alive that Jim genuinely believed had only his best interests in mind.

It broke Pike's heart as much as it did McCoy's. They were probably the people who could call themselves closest to Jim, and part of the kid was still waiting for them to turn on him. Pike deserved the mistrust. McCoy did not.

His hands shook as he reached for the glass of water on his desk. He was still angry – furious, actually – that Jim had been stupid enough to put himself back in Marcus' firing line, that he'd gotten involved with Nibiru in the first place. He'd meant every word he'd said to Jim – that he was reckless, that he played god, that he didn't respect his commission, and though it was all true, that wasn't the root of his anger. He could probably have defended Jim's choices on Nibiru in light of recent circumstances. He'd have been reprimanded, probably fined, but there had been times when the Prime Directive had been broken in the past and there undoubtedly would be again. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that Jim had lied about it. That was not something a ship's captain would do. They would own their mistakes and accept the consequences of them, but Jim had clearly fallen back into his old, juvenile habits.

And in truth, Pike was disappointed with him.

He was also terrified out of his mind, and that fear had sharpened what had already been a dangerous temper.

Jim had promised him he'd lay low and stay off Marcus' radar, and barely six weeks later he had gone and given up the one tactical advantage he had. Marcus hadn't hesitated in taking Jim off the ship and it didn't take a genius to understand why. It had nothing to do with Jim breaking the rules. While Captain, Jim had been protected by both distance and position. Now, thrown back into the Academy, Pike gave it a month before Section 31 had him in their grasps. Jim would be flung out across the galaxy into one suicide mission after another and he'd be dead by the end of the year.

All because Jim had been stupid, and arrogant enough to think he could get away with it.

It said a lot about the kid's mental state. The Jim Pike knew would never have given up that ground. He'd have trusted in his ability to charm his way out of trouble, keeping the leverage on his power instead of blindly trusting it to the universe.

Things with Sam had messed him up more than Pike had realized. He should have made steps to prevent something like this from happening before he left Jim at Risa, but like the old, foolish man that he was, he'd believed in the veneer of normalcy Jim had projected.

If any other captain had experienced what Jim had, Pike would have demanded he took compassionate leave. Jim should have been no different.

He was finally able to take a long gulp of water, his hands still shaking violently as fear and anger slowly gave way to guilt.

He'd accepted long ago that Jim Kirk could gut him wide open with just a look. He'd done it so many times – the quiet grief at his mother's funeral, the flinching fear after Frank, the hollow coldness after Tarsus, the hesitant hope when Jim had pulled on his bars.

The kid was too damn expressive for his own good and Pike knew that.

But he'd never once been looked at the way Jim had looked at him today.

Today, Jim had looked at him with such stunned, echoing hurt that Pike himself might as well have been the one to have etched the scars into his body and soul.

In taking away the Enterprise, Pike might as well have ripped the kid's heart out with his bare hands. He'd probably have done less damage.

In fact, he was pretty sure that he - who loved the boy enough to wish he was his own- had done what a universe full of monsters and bad luck had failed to do: he'd crushed Jim Kirk's spirit.

Well to hell with that.

When it came to Jim, he knew he would never act rationally. No parent ever could when their kid was hurting, even if that kid was as much of a pain in the ass as Jim.

Pike put the glass back on his desk, grabbed his cane and marched from his office.


Alexander Marcus didn't look surprised when Pike stormed his office, one protesting secretary stumbling in his wake.

Marcus waved her away and directed Pike to a seat. "I wondered how long it would be before you came to see me." He said, leaning back away from the PADD on his desk. "This is why you weren't invited to Kirk's tribunal."

"I know exactly why I wasn't invited, sir." Pike said stiffly.

"Then you should know we've picked Kirk's replacement." Marcus said.

God help them, Pike thought sourly. Kirk's crew would never accept another in Jim's place. His replacement would have to cower them into submission or work a miracle. Doing the former would only extinguish the spark that made the Enterprise such a promising ship, and he did not believe anyone capable of the later. "I see."

"It's you." Marcus smirked at the dumbfounded expression that crept across Pike's face.

For a split second, Pike felt a giddy wave of joy – he was going back into space, back into action, back where he belonged – but it vanished quickly as another plan crept in.

"Thank you sir." He said, as courtesy dictated. The immediately added, "I'd like to request Kirk as my First Officer."

"Of course you would." Marcus sighed. "Not happening, Chris."

"He's qualified." Pike countered, not willing to let the matter drop. "Sending him back to the Academy would be a criminal waste of his talents."

"A good humbling is exactly what that boy needs." Marcus said calmly. "He'll complete his command training and move up through the ranks again like he always should have."

"There is nothing the Academy can teach him that he couldn't pick up by himself in a week." Pike protested. "And what then? He gets thrown into the officer pool to write up reports and keep his mouth shut? We both know that's not going to happen. Not now he's had a taste of command. He'll get himself discharged before a month is out."

"Not really my concern." Marcus shrugged. "He had his chance – a chance his peers would kill for, actually."

"So you're going to turn down all that potential?" Pike goaded, "Given all the trouble he's caused over the years, I find that surprising."

He wouldn't outright mention everything that had transpired with Tarsus, he wasn't that stupid, but then neither was Marcus. He knew exactly what Pike was referring to.

Marcus raised an amused eyebrow. "Are you trying to manipulate me, son? You aren't as good at it as Kirk is."

"No," Pike agreed, "I'm not. But I am a damn fine captain - your words, sir. Give me Kirk as my First. He trusts me. I can control him and you can still get your use out of him."

Marcus laughed. "See now, I'd believe you if I hadn't seen the way you look at the boy. You're honestly telling me you can keep him in line?"

Pike took a breath and forced himself to remain calm. "Today I just took away the one thing in the world he wants, if I give it back to him, I won't have to keep him in line. The kid'll be so damn grateful he'll fall over himself to show us how good he can be."

"Kill him with kindness, huh?" Marcus paused to consider the option. "I hear that's how Kodos did it in the end. It's worth a shot. He's your responsibility."

"Yes sir." Pike was too busy being relieved to allow the disgust he felt at hearing Kodos' name to show. "Thank you."

"Don't think me." Marcus said. "A storm's coming, Chris. I need Kirk where he can be of use, but don't think for a second that I will hesitate in putting him back in his place if I need to."

Pike nodded, hiding his relief behind a wall of stoicism and calm. "Understood, sir."


Finding Jim was not difficult. There were only so many places he could be and Pike ruled out any that were frequented by fleet officers. He also ruled out some of the rougher bars he knew Kirk and McCoy had visited, He'd seen the devastation on the kid's face when Pike had taken away the one thing he loved. The violent self destruction would come when the shock wore off and anger at himself kicked in. Until then, he'd turn to alcohol for comfort.

The bar he found the kid in was actually one he, Kirk and McCoy had been to before. McCoy had dragged Jim there kicking and screaming – it wasn't exactly classy, but miles above the dives Jim usually frequented – right after Kirk had spent the entire day standing on ceremony as the Academy took full advantage of having George Kirk's son in attendance for Kelvin Memorial Day. It was Jim's twenty third birthday and he'd only been allowed to spend it at his leisure after twelve hours in uniform. McCoy had gotten him completely wasted and, more than a little drunk himself, had called Pike to chew him out over what he saw as serious organizational shortfalls.

Pike had come to collect them just so they avoided being caught on camera but somehow had spent the entire night joining them at the bottom of a bottle. Responsible adult his ass.

After that, if they ever drank together, it was in that one bar. It was infrequent more out of proprietary's sake than anything else – they were cadets and he their instructor – but every couple of months he'd be cajoled by either Jim's hopeful smile or McCoy's gruff insistence.

It seemed strange seeing Jim sat at the bar by himself when the last time they'd been there he'd been all but crying with laughter as Pike had purposely teased McCoy over his supervisor in SFM.

He saw Jim catch the eye of a pretty brunette by the bar and sighed. Jim's propensity sleep around was actually one of his least self-destructive tendencies but the last thing the kid needed tonight was another meaningless notch to the bedposts.

What he needed was something that, for the very first time, Pike could actually give him.

Pike took a seat, his shoulders free of a weight he'd carried for as long as he'd known Jim Kirk.

After everything they'd been through, after all the times he'd failed to be what Jim needed, something finally clicked into place.

He couldn't give Jim back his bars, not yet, but he could maybe give Jim what he really needed. Pike didn't doubt in Jim's ability to save himself but he also knew that sometimes even the strongest of men needed to know that when they fell there was someone who would and could carry them out of the darkness.

It wasn't ideal, it wasn't anything close to what Pike imagined his future would be, but he could see the hope in it and he'd bring Jim back with him into the light.

And it was there, dawning in Jim's eyes as Pike's words sunk in. "It's going to be alright, son." He squeezed Jim's shoulder and let all the warmth and pride and love he felt for the impossible boy sink into his voice.

And it would be, because thirteen years after he'd first tried, Chris was finally going to be able to bring Jim home.

His comm. beeped.


Four hours later and everything had gone to hell. He was hazy on the details, still unsure how one minute Jim had once again been waving a red flag under Marcus' nose and the next he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move.

The world was ending around him and even though Spock was there, dragging him to safety, Chris wanted to fight him. He wanted to struggle, to stay, because leaving that room meant leaving Jim and he couldn't, not now, not after he'd promised.

But he couldn't even speak. It didn't hurt, not any more, and not physically at least, but his thoughts were a jumble and his body was betraying him again.

A distant part of his mind was trying to tell him the undeniable truth of what was happening – he was dying – but he rebelled against the knowledge. He wasn't ready to die, not now, not when he'd finally started to fix things.

The pain came then, bringing tears to his eyes as Spock's face swam in and out of focus. Gentle fingers touched his cheek and his forehead and he felt a soothing brush against his mind, bringing a sudden, blinding jolt of clarity.

Jim. Where was Jim? Was he hurt? Why the hell was Spock here with him when Jim was alone in there?

His tears fell and he was helpless to stop them as terror and misery battled with the agony seizing through his body. He tried blinking them away as his through caught on what he knew would be his last breath.

He held it as long as he could, refusing to go. It was just long enough to see a figure appear over Spock's shoulder, blond hair messy, blue eyes shadowed. Jim Kirk was once again saving himself and everyone with him.

He couldn't hold on any longer.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

They were supposed to be going home.