Everyone survive the last chapter? Got all your tears out? Oh, that's what you think. I hope you saved some chocolate and Kleenexes for this round.


Jim took in the faces watching him. He'd never suspected they carried so much torment between them. They had enough sad stories to keep a therapist busy for years, even without him. Knowing he'd added to their troubles made him feel about two inches tall.

Do you see how much you mean to these people, Jim? You can't give up, because they believe in you. Pike's voice broke through his tumultuous thoughts.

Bones, who thought of him as a brother. Chekov, the boy genius who'd saved his life more than once by calculating complicated transporter formulas at the spur of the moment. Uhura, who knew what it was to have regrets for not telling a friend her true feelings. Sulu, who understood the value of a good mentor. Stubborn Scotty, who seemed to have a sixth sense about the ship. Carol, who cared enough about him to lock him in her aunt's house until shit was settled. Spock, unflappable and sometimes infuriating, who'd kill for him.

Jim ran his hand down his face. His fingers came away wet. He wanted to say something light to break the somber mood, to let them know that he really was okay. Or that he was at least headed in that direction. His tongue and mind betrayed him. They watched him expectantly, as though he was about to issue orders to send them into space instead of spill his guts.

"I didn't know. I mean, I knew I wasn't the only person who suffered, but you all seem so...together. Like shit doesn't eat you up." He stared hard at the jagged wood grain of the table. "In my family, we don't talk about...anything. Damn sure never about feelings. You just suck it up and get on with things. But there was nothing for me to get on with. I kept replaying scenarios in my head. If I'd spoken up before Khan attacked and I'd helped Pike get out of the room. If I hadn't demanded Marcus let us go after Khan. I never should have trusted him. Either of them."

He ran his hand through his hair. Much as he hated it, he did remember dying. For weeks, he'd been telling people it was blur, the details were fuzzy, his actions a haze.

If only.

He'd been scared and alone, although those were feelings he was accustomed to. He'd known the minute the ship stopped its free fall, but he'd still worried his actions weren't enough. In the end, he didn't have the strength to free himself from the chamber, couldn't have without risking radiating everyone nearby, so he'd made his way to the door, sick with fear and poison. Alone, like always. It was the worst pain he remembered suffering. The feeling that he was burning from the inside out and the way his lungs refused to draw in oxygen.

"To be honest, dying wasn't the hard part. I mean, it sucked, don't get me wrong. They put those warning stickers on the windows to tell you to stay out. They ought to ask a survivor to write a description about what it's like to-"

He stopped, because Spock was the only one there not wearing a mask of horror. "Or maybe they could make a G-rated computer animated tutorial," he muttered. "Mostly I worried about you guys. I knew you could take care of yourselves. A crew like mine, hell, a captain couldn't ask for any better. I knew you'd all be okay, as along as the warp core was back online. I taught you about no-win scenarios. With Spock in control, surely you could handle a little thing like surviving."

He offered them a shaky smile. "I didn't do anything Pike wouldn't have done. You know if he'd been there, he'd have gone into that chamber in a second. And I thought I had the chance to make it up to him, all those times I pissed him off and gave him reason to doubt me. It was worth the pain, the fear, the unknown."

He drew a ragged breath.

"Maybe not worth the questions afterward. Facing the admirals and Section 31. But it was all like it happened to someone else. Being sequestered in the apartment was sort of a blessing and a curse. I couldn't stand seeing the city torn up, but spending so much time alone was rough. Darkness started to creep in. While I was in the hospital, I'd missed the funerals of people I knew and liked. People who fought beside me and laughed at my dumb jokes. And Pike, who introduced me to this life. I owe him everything, but he's gone. Everyone was just gone and there wasn't any way to apologize for letting them down. My best plan failed. I started memorizing the lists of casualties. I thought things were getting better after they restored my position, but then Baboon-I mean Mark-set me off in that bar. I didn't even know what I'd done to him until it was over. It was like watching some other idiot smash his face. I've thought about that a lot and that guy is getting a Beer of the Month basket starting next month until the end of time to make up for the way I tried to swap his nose out with his mouth. But between him and those damn reporters who wouldn't stop hounding me about whether I was siding with Marcus, trying to get the Federation involved in war, it was a lot to carry."

So much, his brain wanted to explode just from talking about it.

"I'm sorry I let you guys down. I'm not sure what I'm doing anymore and maybe I shouldn't have agreed to return as captain. Maybe..." He closed his eyes. He was about to say something that had crossed his mind a hundred times, but he thought would never pass his lips. "Maybe I should go back to the academy. There are men and women more qualified, more sure of themselves, who would kill to be in my place."

He didn't feel guilty for saying it, because he knew Spock had considered terminating his position with Starfleet when Vulcan was destroyed. Sometimes stepping back was the only way to clear one's head of the muddle. If he went back, maybe it would show the admiralty-the world-he had some humility.

The words were met with looks of sadness and a few loud protests. Spock raised his hand to still the others.

"While there is truth to your statement about other officers who desire your position within Starfleet, the seven of us object to your reasoning. I respect the decisions of our superiors and I do not question their choice for returning the Enterprise to your command. Though we have encountered some rather trying situations, we have always come through them. Together. Your ability to think on your feet,while often perplexing, has saved us on numerous occasions."

Jim blinked. "Thanks, I think."

"The point is," Bones said, "each one of us is a little messed up in the head. Doesn't mean we can lay down and quit. We all have scars. You ever scare us like that again and we'll each take a turn bringing you back to life just to kill you again."

Note to self: Don't die again, and stop making your friends worry so much.

"You got something on your mind, one of us is happy to listen. No one us has gone through the same thing, but we'll do our best to come up with a solution if you can't. You idiot." Bones's serious face was replaced by a frown. "And where the hell is my Beer of the Month basket? Do you realize much of your shit I've put up with? One guy in a bar ruffles your feathers and he gets beer for life?"

Jim ducked his head, smiling. "We'll talk about it."

"Fair enough. Now will one of you tell the poor kid about his ship? Get his mind off the bad things, please?"

Scotty grinned. "The Enterprise is under repair seven days a week. Nae rest for the weary. Rumor has it that's because they want her done before they make a special announcement."

"Like what?" Jim asked. He didn't dare put hope into news about their next assignment.

"The five year mission coming up," Sulu replied. "There's a pool taking bets on who's getting it and you've got 2-1 odds."

"Really?" Jim shook his head, stunned. "Unbelievable. Anyone betting on me is going to lose their ass. There's no way we're getting that mission."

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Admit it, Kirk. You want it."

"Is there anyone at this table who doesn't want to explore deep space?" he asked.

"Me. I like it just fine on Earth," Bones grumbled.

"Your opinion doesn't count." Jim drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "You go where the ship goes." He paused. "I'm earthbound for another week, per my disciplinary hearing, but afterward, I can help with the repairs. The sooner we get her space-worthy again, the sooner we can find out where we're going next."

Wanting the mission didn't guarantee he'd get it, but even if they missed out this time, there would be another in the future. He hadn't been this excited about anything since before he'd been busted down to Pike's first officer. Not even his clearance for captaincy. Now he wanted to return to the bridge and open space.

Sulu nudged Chekov. "There it is."

"What?" Jim asked.

"The captain is back," Uhura said. "That spark that was missing."

"It wasn't missing," he defended. "It just got misplaced for a while. I-thanks, guys."

Strange as it was to be smothered with care, it felt good too. They'd poured their hearts out for him. He looked at Carol and smiled. She still appeared pensive. The trouble her father had caused cost them so much. She had as much crap to get over as any of them.

"Maybe you guys could give me a few minutes alone with Carol? After all, I didn't come here to see any of you."

"How's that for gratitude?" Bones muttered.

"It is getting late," Uhura agreed. "Can we trust you not to keep Carol up all night?"

"She has enough sense to know when to throw me out."

He thanked them again as they left, silently promising to do better. It couldn't have been easy for any of them to open up the way they had. When he was alone with Carol, he moved closer to the chair she occupied.

"I sure didn't see that coming."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I understand if you're disgusted by the way I tricked you." She nervously examined her fingernails, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey, I'm not mad. You were trying to help. That's what friends do."

"Friends," she murmured. "I'm glad to retain the honor."

"Before this, I had a good time with you. You're smart and funny and you didn't eat like a bird. I hate it when women do that. I thought we had fun." He swallowed, wondering if she'd been acting. If it had all been a ploy to get him here, well, he'd handle it. But he had to ask. "I wondered if you'd like to do it again soon."

Her blue eyes went wide. "You'd consider another date with me after that? I thought you'd think I'm as deceptive as my father. I've lied to you twice now."

He leaned closer, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear. "I think you do the best you know how. Whatever it takes to get the job done, right?"

"If you're sure you can forgive me, I'll gladly accompany you out again."

"Already done," he assured her.

Her lips beckoned him. It wasn't the thrill of knowing he could get her into bed that made him want her. Or the idolizing hero worship that some girls had for him. She looked clean through him and knew he was flawed and at times pathetic, but still looked for his best.

Jim kissed her, a quick brush of lips, one that made him want more, but if he was going to explore a relationship with her, he already knew it didn't have to be rushed. Five year mission or not, he had plenty of time to get to know her.

"Thanks for inviting me in, Carol."


He'd turned down the offers for company when he went to the cemetery. Now, standing on the beginning of the row where Pike was buried, Jim wasn't sure he'd made the right choice. He could've made a joke, covered his unease if he'd let one of the others come.

He wasn't about to start talking to himself. All he needed was for one of the other grave visitors to overhear and report him as a nut job wandering around a cemetery.

Dry grass crunched under his feet as he approached the bare patch of dirt midway down the row. Dark granite tombstones bore names and dates, but they were all meaningless to him. Many of them had fake flowers or little statues propped up beside them. Jim had something for Pike too. He was surprised, though he should have been, that there were flowers and a few photographs on the edge of Pike's grave. Of course he hadn't been the only one who admired Pike.

He stopped in front of the dirt mound, mouth dry and throat scratchy. A small marker pierced the earth, bearing the admiral's name and information. So far there wasn't a stone for him because the earth had to settle first or the tombstone would sink.

Jim didn't know why he knew that, only that he hated the little plaque with a slip of paper inside. It wasn't enough to commemorate a great man.

This isn't right. You shouldn't be down there. I'd do anything if...

He stopped the thought. No amount of bargaining would help. I hope your headstone tells people what kind of man you were. Brave. Loyal. Selfless. I hope the guys making it know how much everyone looked up to you.

His vision blurred. The dull ache in his chest grew.

Ah, man.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "This is not how I wanted to tell you I respected you. We should've been sitting down over some beers, watching a game, just talking about life, and all the stupid things I did at the academy." Jim closed his eyes, picturing the scene. "I would've said I was sorry for the trouble I caused, for being such a pain in the ass, and you've said something like-"

"You're gonna bring all that up? Now? We're watching Oakland slaughter Green Bay."

But you would've muted it, taken a drink of beer, and said, "Look, kid, we all have to come into our own. It takes some longer than others, but I've never seen anyone with drive like yours. You just needed the training and experience to go along with your instincts. I was never prouder of you than when you beat the odds. When I met you in that bar in Iowa, I just knew you were going to follow your father's footsteps. But don't let it go to your head. Who the hell am I kidding? It's too late."

He didn't open his eyes, letting the spirit of his mentor stay beside him.

"I would've told you that I couldn't have done it on my own. I wouldn't have accomplished anything if you hadn't given me a push and trusted me."

I know, Jim. But that's what mentors are for. Friends too. You still have plenty of people to turn to. They need you. That's why you're here. So don't let them down. Don't go down that dark road again, or I'll come back and kick your ass. It won't be pretty.

A raindrop hit his cheek-or it might've been a tear, hard to say-and Jim opened his eyes. Another lovely winter day in San Francisco. It didn't matter, because in a few hours, he'd been aboard the Enterprise for the first time in almost three months. He was cleared for duty, eager to walk the halls of his ship, sit in his chair on the bridge, examine the guts of his beloved ship. Eager to find out what came next.

"Thank you, Christopher." Jim kneeled at the head of the grave and placed the starship-shaped salt shaker he'd taken the night he met Pike at the bar on the cold dirt. It was just a stupid piece of ceramic, but it reminded him of the night his world had changed forever.