Warning: This chapter involves some timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly stuff.
Disclaimer: Star Trek does not nor will ever belong to me. I only own Sonja Laxely.
The First Time
He Met Her
He was short. Those were the first words to cross her mind. Then they wouldn't leave. A fair haired brow lifted to hide under a messy golden fringe. His mouth twisted to the side as his eyes regarded her from face to hips then back up.
His deliberation over whether or not to trust her suited her just fine. It gave her time to gather her wits after the (possibly) unintentional-but just as mind shattering-blow he'd just delivered.
It wasn't bad enough Sonja had awoken on the floor of a shady looking storage unit without her scout team or communication to the Enterprise. She'd been discovered in her disorientation by a boy of twelve maybe thirteen years, with a three pronged steel hay stacker in hand and held defensively against her. He'd demanded to know who she was and what she was doing in his uncle's shed. She'd patiently given her name, rank, and association with Starfleet. Then, after his scoff of disbelief, she'd asked the boy his name.
"James," he'd said. "James Kirk."
