A/N: As usual, sorry for the wait. And sorry it's rough, I'll fix it up in the morning. This is the last chapter, just an epilogue to go!

Chapter Three: Maturing

Jim had participated in more than his fair share of PDAs, but watching Spock and Uhura make out like desperate teenagers not even a foot away, he could admit this was a whole new level of awkward. Not least of all because his thoughts had set on loop, semi-hysterically wondering when the hell that happened and why no one informed him.

He watched Uhura walk away then and tried not to twitch too noticeably until he just couldn't resist—

"So, her first name is Nyota?"

"I have no comment on the matter." Shut down, Jim mentally winced, grateful to Scotty when he broke in with their final instructions and a firm, "Energize."

After years of surveying nearly every person he met, Jim felt it was safe to say he could blame Harry for the weird awareness he felt in particle transport. As far as he'd learned, nobody else – even paranoid Bones – actually felt their molecules being taken apart and reformed. When he'd mentioned it to Harry, his friend laughingly apologized, "It seems I passed you a bit more than my unfortunate luck, Jim. I was always sensitive to unnatural transportation."

Jim didn't have more than a moment to get past the disorientation before he and Spock were moving, shots flying left and right, and guttural Romulan vowels singing behind phaser blasts. Jim almost wished he couldn't understand them, though he had to applaud their creativity as he jumped and dodged through the cavernous room. Spock and he eventually came to a sheltered spot and knelt to take cover as best they could while firing back. Eventually, the room quieted and they began leapfrogging around each other and various structures for cover.

At the sight of an unconscious Romulan nearby, Jim waved Spock forward and was a little amazed when the half-Vulcan seemed to understand what was wanted without any further instruction. Maybe there was something to Old Spock's prophecies after all, Jim thought, as he watched this Spock meld with the Romulan.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Jim moved to crouch at Spock's side and asked, "Do you know where it is? The black hole device?" He mentally berated himself for interrupting after Harry's frequent admonitions about the difficulties of mind reading – which was a misnomer because the mind was not a book to be read, as Harry had often corrected him.

But Spock did not seem to mind the interruption, raising his head and replying, "And Captain Pike." Jim followed as Spock led them down two floors and far to the right, through more corridors than Jim could count and wide open spaces which made him think uncomfortably of Harry's tales of expansion charms gone wrong. Shaking the thoughts away, Jim forced himself into the sort of single-minded focus that allowed him to disregard all but the mission before him.

They arrived at the black hole device first.

Up a small ship's ramp, they encountered walls covered in unfamiliar technology and contained in the center: the red matter. Jim carefully laughed off Spock's suspicion when the ship recognized him, until the half-Vulcan confronted him with rather less rancor than Jim expected, "It appears that you have been keeping important information from me."

"You'll be able to fly this thing, right?"

"Something tells me I already have."

Jim eyed him, and perhaps because Spock did not look accusing but rather resigned, he gave him some answer, "A you has. Good luck." Jim wondered only a moment as he stepped away whether he had said too much, but he'd like to think Harry knew a fair bit more about time travel than an old half-Vulcan and he was certain Harry had said nothing about hints being illegal.

Spock stopped him before he reached the exit and Jim wondered only a moment that his name sounded so familiar in that voice.

"Jim, the statistical likelihood that our plan will succeed is less than—" Jim really didn't need to know those odds. He had learned well how important faith was to prophecy and hell if this wasn't starting to feel like fate. He hoped that certainty came across when he cut Spock off, "It'll work."

Spock overrode him, though, as if he hadn't heard, "In the event that I am unsuccessful, please tell Lieutenant Uhura—" Jim didn't feel bad about interrupting this time, sensing weakness in Spock where he would need only strength.

"Spock," that tone was entirely his mother, Jim thought ruefully, "It'll work." And Jim felt, for a moment, they really had that connection Old Spock talked about because damn if it didn't look like Spock at least had faith in him.

Pike was dead. Jim could think of nothing else for a moment, the thought circling and growing somehow louder and fainter in his head as he clutched the man's shoulders and desperately willed him to breathe. Jim had seen a lot of death in his time, but this – this wasn't right, he could feel it in his bones, in that weird energy that bound him even in transport – this was not how their story ended. His hands weren't even shaking, Jim thought distantly, with the feeling of wrongness and shock still settling on him.

Then there was a thrum in his aching bones and the words came to him like old power, like the old spells he'd always heard of, though he hoped his hoarse, abused vocal chords didn't affect anything – "Harry, I need you." And between one blink and the next, Harry was there, as real as Jim had ever seen him, haloed in a distant aura although Jim considered that might just be his concussion.

Harry smiled, as always as if he knew everything Jim was thinking, "Told you I'd be here, kid. It's a stretch, but you're helping even if I don't understand how." Then all of Harry's attention turned to Pike and his mouth took a grim downturn. Jim swallowed convulsively but held his peace, one eye on Harry, who twisted a ring Jim had never seen before three times and then lay his hand on Pike's cheek, and the other eye on the hall in case they had any more unwanted guests.

As Jim watched, Harry shut his eyes and the ring began to glow without light, or such was the only way Jim could describe it. The aura of timeless power that Harry usually held in check nearly took his breath away and Jim abruptly focused entirely on Pike as the glow seemed to blanket him in an invisible cloak and the dead man took a breath.

Pike blinked once, twice, and then opened his eyes wide to stare up at Harry. Jim had a feeling they didn't see the same thing at all.

Pike sounded even worse than Jim himself, but managed to speak, "What are you doing here?" Jim stepped quickly into Harry's place as his apparition vanished.

"Just following orders, sir." And Jim smiled and ignored Pike's sudden daze as what Jim suspected to be a memory charm took hold. That only made his shots a second later more impressive, in Jim's book.

Their return to Enterprise was both more and less dramatic than Jim expected. He could get used to Spock's presence, though, Jim thought absently, as they seemed to fall into sync without consideration, Spock half a step back to his right as Bones took over with Pike and Uhura followed close behind them. The doors to the bridge hissed open in minutes and Jim focused once more on the Narada.

Chekov spoke up, "Captain, the enemy ship is losing power, their shields are down, sir."

Jim didn't blink, "Hail them now." As the Narada began slowly withdrawing into the red matter's black hole, Nero's face appeared on the flickering screen, alarms blaring through the background.

"This is Captain James T Kirk of the USS Enterprise," and damn, but that felt good to say, Jim thought, as a phantom hand gripped his shoulder. "Your ship is compromised. You're too close to the singularity to survive without assistance, which we are willing to offer." The hand squeezed and Jim could almost ignore all the eyes on him. Whether they accused him of heartlessness with their surprise or stupidity with their disapproval, he couldn't care. He knew what was right.

Spock's turn at his side did catch his attention, though, and Jim knew he couldn't yet speak his thoughts to this man, who, however brave he had proved himself, had still risked Jim's home with his easy choices.

"Captain, what are you doing?"

Jim mentally sighed and breathed out bullshit, "Showing them compassion. It may be the only way to make peace with the Romulan Empire. It's logic, Spock, thought you'd like that." Bullshit or not, Spock's expression almost drew a laugh from him.

"No, not really. Not this time."

Nero cut in then and it no longer mattered—"I would rather suffer the end of Romulus a thousand times. I would rather die in agony than accept assistance from you." Jim grinned ruthlessly as a barely tangible head banged repeatedly against his spine, "You got it."

He turned and the presence vanished. "Arm phasers, fire everything we've got."

Had he known what a pain escaping would be after, Jim considered he still might have taken potshots at this particular Romulan. Hitting them while they were down, until they never got back up – that one he learned from his mother. He had the oddest thought that Sarek's Amanda might have approved.

When they were finally floating free in the black, damaged and limping forlornly home, alpha shift at last on a break, Jim sat back for just a moment to savor this victory. When the doors to his temporary quarters hissed open, he was unsurprised to see Spock and Sarek.

Ignoring the younger for the time being, Jim offered Sarek his bowed head in respect and the Vulcan salute. He adjusted the ritual words to the occasion, though.

"You will live long and prosper for her." It was not a question and Jim saw in those dark eyes that Sarek understood. This was the only way Jim could repay him for his presence and his comfort on those rough days during his stay in the North African deserts. Sarek was the first and only person Jim had ever told about his little joyriding experiment, when the man caught him at a very bad moment on one of his worst birthdays to date. The man's silence had pried the truth out of him and Jim found he could not be upset with speaking his mind to this man any more than he could mind Harry's reading him and knowing without the need for telling.

Spock's human eyes were very wide. Sarek only nodded and returned the salute with his own quiet instruction, "I cannot help him with this. You will."

Jim sat back a moment, considered without any doubt that he would obey, and decided on the only proper response he knew. Crossing both arms over his chest, palms fisted at his shoulder, he murmured the only phrase in Old Romulan his uncle Tammor knew, from a ritual the man's people had carried through the mists of time to signify the highest respect and the repayment of all debt. The nearest translation he'd found was, "We balance the scales," but he still didn't understand all the connotations for that Old Romulan word for 'balance' which could also mean 'heighten' or 'burn'. For one day a year, it even meant 'silence,' which Jim thought rather fitting.

Sarek took it for the dismissal it was and left as silently as he came. Spock remained standing, rigid and uncertain, and Jim considered the scuffed floor beneath his boots as he wished he could call on Harry for this one.

Eventually, Jim looked very slowly to Spock and carefully did not speak of a car falling into a quarry with a little boy inside anymore than he mentioned a grieving man setting his ship on a suicidal collision course with no thought of rescue. Suicide was an emotional response and Sarek was right to bring this to a human – Vulcans had never understood this sort of sacrifice.

Into Spock's silence, Jim spoke at last, of a human boy hero who became a human boy soldier who became the Master of Death…by dying. He spoke of the grief that struck this boy when he realized all he had lost and the deal he made with a servant who could never be mastered, that he would never lose again – not his heart, not his friends, not his family. By his deal, even in death they would never be parted from his immortal soul. At long last, Jim spoke of an angel who took his dearly departed with him wherever he would go and who was sent to sleep for twelve hundred years by the last friend he had alive, who could not bear to see him outlive her, too.

When Jim was quiet, Spock spoke and there was nothing changed in his voice, but he was no longer tall and rigid but loose and absorbed; and truly, none could be touched by such as Harry so many times as Jim without picking up some sensitivity to auras. Spock's was lighter than Jim had ever known it.

"How do you know my father?"

Jim smiled, "For a day, he was my father, too."

Spock did not look amused at this cryptic response but did not comment, just asked one more question. Perfectly mimicking Jim's prior actions, from the fists at his shoulders to the Old Romulan word for 'balance' and 'burn,' Spock bowed.

"What is this?"

Jim felt his smile widen at the gesture, though Spock had no idea of what he had just offered.

"It is Old Romulan, a gesture of highest respect that marks the repayment of all debt between the involved parties." Spock was still and then nodded once, not even looking offended when Jim finally laughed.

The commencement was probably the best day of Jim's life, except for the day he met Harry. He was a Captain. James Tiberius Kirk was a Starfleet Captain and not just any captain; he was the Captain of the flagship, the Enterprise.

"I relieve you, sir."

As Pike smiled up at him, Jim felt for a moment as if Harry was all around him, hugging him close to the universe. The thought let his smile widen as Pike replied, "I am relieved."