Hey, a surprise update! Here's Jim again. What will he think of Wuthering Heights? Is Commander Jennings coming on to him? What leaves him speechless? Read and find out! ;)

~Nadiea

Disclaimer: 'Star Trek' and its existing characters are the property of Paramount/CBS. Except my original characters, like Lieutenant-Commander Graziev.

Chapter Four - What Happens On The Star Base...

When I was ten, my Mom remarried. Frank, a Federation contractor, was nice enough to me and Sam when he first started to see her. However, once the deed was done, he changed his tune. He wanted to have more kids. Or, I should say, his own children. Even ten years after the Kelvin incident, my Dad's legend still ruled around Riverside and we would always be 'George Kirk's boys' to the locals. Frank virtually ignored us once they returned from their honeymoon. Six months later, when Mom told us she was pregnant, Sam ran away for the first time. Three months after she had Jenny, Starfleet asked her to help with a research mission on Vulcan for a few weeks. I don't know for sure what prompted her to leave so easily not just me and Sam, but the baby as well, but I think maybe having the baby around brought up memories she couldn't handle.

So she left us with Frank.

Well, she left me and Jenny with Frank.

Sam ran away again.

And in the scenario where it's me, Frank, and the baby, guess whose company he preferred? I won't say that I was this perfect angel either, but he was the only father type that I'd ever come into contact with, so at the beginning I tried hard to behave and do things that would make him like me.

Mom and Sam never liked to talk about Dad, for reasons that are obvious to me now, but were not when I was a kid starved for information about him. I do think she tried her best to be a good mom to us even as she struggled at times early on. But I knew I was missing something. So when Frank came into our lives, I knew that was my chance to get a dad. Sam hated me for it and remained hostile toward him. But that was such bullshit, because he had his memories of our dad. He and mom were lucky despite the fact that they seemed to think otherwise.

But none of it mattered anyway, because once Jenny was born, Frank focused all his attention on her. I might as well have run away with Sam. I don't remember consciously deciding to rebel. I just remember feeling angry and hurt and sad. I couldn't understand what I'd done wrong. This, I guess, led to the car incident. When Frank attempted to sell Dad's classic car, I drove it into a ravine, barely escaping going over with it. That was my first encounter with the law, but not the last, of course. What I did learn from it was that my bad behavior never failed to get Mom and Frank's attention, while good behavior only seemed to inspire indifference.

When I look back on it all, I guess the most vivid feeling I recall was loneliness. With Mom and Sam, I was always a reminder to them of what they'd lost. There were times when I must have done something or looked a certain way like dad and they would share a glance of pain. They could share memories with each other, but never with me.

Before the last time Sam ran away, just before mom packed us off to Tarsus IV, he told me that he wished that he could go back before Dad and Mom went on that last mission and make it so none of it had happened. He told me he'd rather have dad than me. I guess my brother saying something that hurtful should have, you know, hurt me. It didn't really. Or maybe it was more like I'd felt that hurt already. I always suspected that he resented me for coming home in Dad's place. And well...I don't know.

The next few years that followed are something I'd like to forget.

But the Starfleet entrance exam I took when I was eighteen measured that I've apparently got a photographic memory, so the irony is that everything that happened in my life is as vivid as if it happened yesterday. It wasn't until four years later, though, in the bar just outside one of the major Starfleet yards in Iowa that I would even think about really joining up. I met both Nyota and then-Captain Pike that night. I guess some might call it fate, but Grandma Iris, my Dad's mom, loved the word Serendipity. It's a pretty cool word. I'm still skeptical of the concept, but that night and the past four years make me think there's something out there ordering the universe.

Anyway, as I sit here listening to Commander Jennings talk about her base while we sign the multiple item transfer data forms, I realize that I haven't felt lonely in a long time.

It's a random, but astounding revelation to me.

"I am ready to send all the authorizations to Starfleet, unless there is anything else to add, sir?" Rand states, after we sign off on the last one. She's been cataloguing and organizing the documents as soon as we send them to her PADD. I really am tempted to check for some mechanism on her, because that level of efficiency just isn't human. She's even managed to elicit praise from Spock!

I glance at the commander and she shakes her head. "No, go ahead."

Jennings gives me a considering look as we wait for confirmation on the transmission. "I have to admit that you're not what I expected."

I get that a comment a lot. "Really?" I say, trying not look annoyed.

She smiles ruefully. "I'm guessing you've heard that before, but you're a pretty famous man around the galaxy, Captain. The stories about what happened with the Narada are legendary as are you and your crew."

"We only did what whatever we could to prevent what happened to Vulcan from happening to more planets," I say automatically. It was one of my stock replies during the endless round of press conferences and debriefings we went through immediately after the Enterprise had limped back to Earth after defeating the Narada. "There's nothing really thrilling about it. We still lost an entire planet with six billion Vulcans as well as most of the graduating class from the academy."

"I know," she answers solemnly with a nod of her head. "I only mean that for someone so young, you command as if you've done it for years, instead of months."

A few years ago, I would have answered with some snappy bit of bravado, but I know better now. Whatever I lack in years, I've made up for in the sheer amount of practical experience the Enterprise has encountered since its very first mission. Pike laments that I've somehow transferred my tendency to get into trouble over to the ship. Spock contends that it is logical that the fallout from the destruction of Vulcan would put a heavier burden on the Flag Ship. Chekov surmises that the Enterprise is a 'such a cool ship', so all the Federation's enemies want a chance to go against us. I personally give Chekov's explanation style points, but who the hell knows, really?

So, I just shrug in response. A glance over at Rand shows that she's focused on her PADD. "It's why I entered the Starfleet and what I spent those three years studying for. I made sure I paid attention."

"Sir, I've received confirmation from Starfleet. They have received and processed the documents," Rand says as she taps at her screen. "We may proceed to Vulcan after completion of our shore leave."

I nod. "Cool. You're dismissed, Lieutenant. Go, enjoy your leave."

Rand hesitates. "If you are certain you don't need me, sir..."

I consider it quite an accomplishment that I don't roll my eyes. Rand is like a mother hen sometimes. "I'm fine. I'm going on leave shortly as well, so go and have fun. That's an order, remember?"

"Yes, sir." Rand salutes us both before she leaves.

Jennings looks at me with amusement. "She's quite...exemplary."

I smile. "She's the best."

She pauses for a moment. "So, what are your plans for your vacation, Captain?" She finally asks.

"Call me Jim. We're done with all the formal stuff," I say. "I have some plans for this evening, but other than that, I'm going to probably just hang out with my crew. Make sure they are all enjoying themselves."

She gives me a look I can't interpret. "You can call me Laura," she says. "Well, whenever you're free, perhaps we can also have lunch or dinner while you're here."

"Sure, uh, I'll let you know," I reply, caught off guard.

She smiles. "Okay, I'm on duty tonight anyway, but I'm available at the usual lunch and dinner hours tomorrow."

Not really a clarification, but I choose to think it's just one of those 'commanders eat with each other' things. "Right, well, I'll let you get back to your duties, Laura. I've got to check in with my bridge crew."

Before she can speak again, her communicator buzzes and someone requests her assistance at the medical seminar. She sighs. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jim."

I nod and we end up exiting her office together, parting ways as she heads off presumably to the medical wing and me back to the Enterprise.

After checking in with Scotty on the bridge, where I did not see a keg and an ongoing poker game in progress, I went to my quarters. I changed out of my uniform and into jeans and a t-shirt, flopping down on my bed, PADD in hand. I checked my messages and found Nyota's with Wuthering Heights attached.

Here's the book. I'll probably have at least read chapter one by dinner, but we can start anytime,

Nyota

"What the hell, I've got a couple of hours to kill," I say to myself. Before I meet her for dinner, I'll make the rounds and check on everyone. I start reading and antiquated expressions aside, it's pretty interesting. The narrator guy, a Mr. Lockwood, is likeable and the infamous Heathcliff is mysterious, but not a caricature so far. The first chapter is short, so I read on to the next. It looks like the story starts at 'the end' and then flashes back to tell the actual story. And it starts to get particularly good once Mr. Lockwood meets the rest of Heathcliff's 'family'. It's like dysfunction city. Makes mine look pretty tame in comparison. I don't know if that's a good or bad thought.

My communicator beeps, it seems like only minutes later. But when I check the time, it's been nearly two hours since I started the book.

"Spock to Kirk."

"Kirk, here."

"Captain, I must report that an altercation took place between one of our crew, Lieutenant Engineer Graziev and one of the base's engineers, a Lieutenant-Commander Theron," Spock's voice, clear and calm, sounded through the room.

I utter a few choices words to the empty room. I know with my history I'm the last person to give a lecture against fighting, but I still try to hold my crew to high standards. "I'll be there in five minutes," I inform him.

"Yes, sir," Spock replies and cuts the transmission.

I hesitate a minute, deciding whether to change or not, but it is a disciplinary situation, so I hurry back into my uniform.

I get to the base in fairly record time and make my way down to the science wing, where there is indeed a crowd of some of my people along with the base's as well as Spock, Commander Jennings, and the two perpetrators. You can always tell who they are by the bruises and the bleeding, of course. First-hand experience with that.

"Captain Kirk, I would like to speak with you on this matter privately," Jennings states as soon as I reach them.

"Yes, we will, but first I want a report from Lieutenant Graziev and then my First Officer." I eye Graziev. He's around my age with a shock of red hair and gray eyes. He's a quiet sort according to both Chekov and Scotty, who will no doubt light into him once he hears about this. At the moment, he won't look at me. "Lieutenant!" I say sharply.

He snaps to attention. "Yes, sir!"

"What happened?" I ask simply. "I want it word for word. And you'll look me in the eye as you tell me."

"Our group was viewing Lieutenant-Commander Theron's experiment, sir," he started, his eyes meeting mine and wavering for a moment, before he manned up. Good. "I worked part-time with Dr. Eli Samuelson at the academy and he invented the equation that facilitates this new cloaking mechanism, but he is not given credit in the report the Lieutenant-Commander wrote. I told him as much, sir, and he told me I was wrong. I insisted, taking out my PADD to bring up Dr. Samuelson's dissertation to prove it and that's when he slapped it out of my hand." He pauses. "I admit that I threw the first punch, sir. I was angry, but that's no excuse."

"No, it's not," I reply, trying to not show my pride in the guy for standing up for the truth. He still needed some discipline. I glance at Theron, who's looking angry and sullen, but is obviously holding his tongue due to the stare being leveled at him by Jennings. "At ease, Lieutenant."

Graziev assumes a relaxed position, his gaze looking straight ahead.

"Spock?" I prompt, turning to face him and I note that he's standing in between the two men, who are also flanked by a pair of security officers.

"Sir, Lieutenant Graziev has correctly related the facts of the event. I took the liberty of viewing both the Lieutenant-Commander's report as well as Dr. Samuelson's dissertation. He did not credit the doctor with the equation. The verbal argument that followed descended into a physical altercation, wherein Graziev indeed punched Theron first. I separated them and called for security. "

I nod. "Spock, please see to it that the lieutenant is returned to the Enterprise. Take him by the bridge first, where he will explain himself to Scotty. He can decide what to do with him until Commander Jennings and I work out how to handle this to everyone's satisfaction."

"Yes, Captain," Spock replied.

Jennings issues a similar order regarding Theron and we depart for her office.

Once behind closed doors, we took a seat and I wait for her to speak.

"I know it looks bad, but I've known Lieutenant-Commander Theron for some time," she began after a moment. "I just find it hard to believe that he'd knowingly plagiarise an equation like that."

I shrug. "Well, the evidence is there, Commander," I point out, reverting back to formal address, considering the circumstances. "And verified by Spock, who is as detailed and thorough as possible. I don't condone Graziev's actions as far as the fighting is concerned and he will receive a demerit for that. However, I'll leave it to you, for the time being, to decide how to handle the rest of it." I pause. "How many people have seen his project?"

Jennings sighs. "We've hosted about twelve ships since setting up the exhibits."

I shake my head. "Well, look, like I said, I can give you some time to decide what you want to do, but Dr. Samuelson deserves to know if someone is taking credit for his work."

"I agree. I need to talk with Theron and review his project against the dissertation myself before I make a decision regarding his punishment and what to tell Starfleet as well as Dr. Samuelson. I'll let you know before you leave for Vulcan," she responds, pushing a strand of her out of her face.

I don't argue with that. I understand trying to protect a crew member until you're absolutely sure of the situation. Possibly ending someone's career is a heavy burden to bear.

"Well, this day certainly took a turn for the worse."

"Nah," I say with a grin. "This is still a slow day for the Enterprise."

"Not a surprise." She gives me another unreadable look. "I hope this hasn't ruined your plans for tonight?"

I shake my head and check the time. "No, but I do need to get going, actually," I say, rising from my seat.

She nods and stands up as well. "I know we didn't set anything in stone, but how about lunch, tomorrow? I would like to talk more with you about your crew's adventures, if you don't mind?"

So, that's what it's about. And it's not an unusual request. I've had other commanders ask before, especially those stuck on the star bases. Though I can guess why she didn't include that when she asked me about lunch before. My reaction to her questions about our notoriety probably made it seem like I didn't like discussing it in general. But I only hate it when people try to tout us as superheroes. We've made mistakes, but we're all committed to doing our jobs. I'm proud of my crew and there are many stories I enjoy telling.

"Sure," I say. "I'll see you then."

I leave her office, calculating that I've got twenty minutes to get back to the Enterprise and change before I meet Nyota. Checking on the on-leave crew will have to wait until the morning.

I'm sure they're all fine.

And having fun like I ordered.

I then wonder when I became such a mother hen.

I'm able to take a quick shower and change in twelve minutes. I decide on jeans, but with a nicer shirt and grab my PADD. The antique clock on the dining room wall reads two minutes to seven when I get there.

Nyota walks in a few seconds later and I lose the ability to think. She's wearing a strappy spring dress in red. It falls to her knees and she wears sandals that show off her painted toes. Her hair is free and flowing around her face and down her back. She approaches me, carrying her PADD as well.

"Hey," she says with a smile. "I just heard what happened. Is everything okay?"

"Huh?" My brain seems to not want to function past staring at her.

She cocks her head with a little smile. "The fight involving Lieutenant Graziev? About the science project?"

"Yeah," I say. I think if Starfleet saw me right now, they'd strip me of command. "No, that's fine for now. We'll sort it out before we leave. You look beautiful, by the way."

I see a rosy hue stain her cheeks and I feel a warm happiness seep through me.

"You look very nice, too," she replies.

"Ah, I didn't know how dressy I should go," I say, feeling slightly too casual.

She shakes her head. "No, I like what you're wearing. My dress is casual, too."

We stand there for a moment, eyeing each other shyly, before someone from the base approaches us. "Is there something wrong, Captain Kirk?"

I tear my gaze away from hers. "No, we were just going to get a table."

"I'm Lieutenant Mitchell, I run the dining hall. I've got a nice table with a view if you'd like it," the man offered with a smile.

I look to Nyota and she nods. "Lead the way, Lieutenant," I say and gesture for Nyota to go before me.

As we walk to the table, I feel a little panicked. I didn't expect to feel this way over a harmless dinner. I try to remind myself that that's all this is, just a dinner between friends. For so many reasons, I can't afford to mess up things between us. She's my subordinate. She's dated Spock, who's my first officer and friend. Last, but not least, is that against all odds we've managed to become friends. I know I would somehow screw that up if we dated. And even though all of those objections are completely logical and true, I still feel my pulse racing and I can't squash the feeling that what's happening between us is too powerful to stop.

I'll get hurt and probably hurt her either way.

The dark thought flickers through my mind and in that moment I consider running.

She glances back at me with a small smile and I know I won't. It's usually disturbingly easy for me to walk away from women. But it's her. Since I met her, I've always felt that pull to stay within her orbit.

For the first time, I can admit that I've lied to myself for years, trying to believe that antagonizing her was enough.

"Would you like to order from the menu or use the replicator, Captain?" The lieutenant's question snaps me out of my thoughts and like a coward, I'm grateful. He gestures toward our table, which does provide a similarly spectacular view of the galaxy as our Observation Deck.

"Uh, I think we'll order from the menu tonight," I say and Nyota murmurs her agreement. "We're on vacation, after all." As I pull one of the chairs out to seat her, my fingers accidentally graze the silky softness of her arm.

We both jump like we've been scalded.

She meets my gaze, her dark eyes wide, but trusting.

And right now, it feels as if there's nothing in the galaxy that could drag me away from this moment.

TBC...