Next chapter! Yeah my birthday kind of sucked and my vacation . . . let's not get into that. Did miss you guys.

How long does it take for them to make a delivery? Jim paced in front of the small porch. He knew how bad it was for him to be this anxious. He shouldn't ache so much to enter ShiKahr. He shouldn't ache to see I-Chaya or his baby dragon, or to see Spock again.

He didn't even know what exactly he should be feeling when it came to Spock. He hadn't decided whether he should meet him tonight or keep him waiting. He didn't even know what he was going to say. Oh, god, what if when his account was suspended everything was lost? Jim scowled. Spock better sleep with one eye open if that ended up being the case. He would not lose two months of his life!

So Jim had found himself waiting for the delivery truck, waiting for the package that would let him return to his fictional world. After all, once this last semester was over, he would not be able to play but on occasion. He would have to put it all behind him, assuming that the meeting with the admirals when break was over was a good thing and not them not trying to kick him out or anything. As far as he could remember, he had done nothing to get himself in trouble.

"James, what are you doing pacing by the porch?! Get in here and help us put up decorations," Wionna stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, her bright blonde hair pulled into ponytail. He had almost laughed when he saw her wearing an apron. When he thought of Wionna, he didn't see her as wife. He saw her as a Starfleet officer.

His entire stay had been odd. Wionna seemed blissfully happy with Derek, making lovey dovey eyes and flirting with him every other moment. It seemed that she had finally moved past George's death. He had never seen her act like a school girl with her previous boyfriends.

Meanwhile, it was hard to act normal with Sam. His wife was lovely. She was polite, good in conversation, and excited about her child. Jim liked her, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Sam for long periods of time without wanting to punch him in the face. He still had not completely forgiven him for leaving when they were children.

"I'm waiting for something, Mom."

"Well, you can help while you wait. The deliveryman will knock when he gets here."

Jim muttered under his breath before heading inside. Sam and Derek had gone out to get a Christmas tree the previous night. It wasn't common to chop down evergreen trees anymore and artificial or hologram trees seemed to suit most people's needs, but this year, they all decided to be a bit more traditional and get a real one.

Sam sat beside his wife concentrating hard on the string of cranberries and popcorn on the sofa, while Derek struggled to untangle the lights.

"Help Derek with the lights will you?" Wiona asked.

With some muttering, he picked up a section still tangled on the floor and slowly got to work untangling them.

Other than the soft Christmas music playing in the background, it was quiet in the room.

"So James, I hear you're really good at chess." Derek took it upon himself to fill the silence.

Jim didn't speak at first, cursing as he accidentally made another knot worse by untangling the previous one. "I suppose," he grumbled as he tried to delicately undo his work.

"Jim's just being modest. He received the senior master ranking just before he entered high school. I'm sure if he continued playing he would have reached grandmaster." Wionna said proudly.

Jim ignored the conversation. He had stopped playing chess right before he turned 14. While he played occasionally to win some easy money from his classmates, he no longer did official matches, and he was fine with that.

"Well I'm not too bad myself," the man smiled down at Jim. "Perhaps we can play a game."

"What a wonderful idea!" Wionna exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "George's set should be around here somewhere. Jim used to adore that thing."

The man in question stiffened, not bothering to comment. Dammit, how had no one figured out how to keep all the lights from going out if one little light stops working? Or were Christmas lights so low on the priority list, no one bothered to update them. Maybe he should patent and sell an updated version.

"Where is that set Jim?" His mother asked.

He continued to fiddle with the lights before muttering, "I gave it away to a friend of mine for Christmas."

"You what?!"

It was hard not to wince at the sheer shock in his mother's voice. "I gave it to someone for Christmas," he repeated. "I thought he would appreciate it more than me."

"But you loved that thing."

He did. He still remembered playing with his mother whenever she came home from the colony or space station with a cup of cocoa in his hands. "It's in good hands," he said reassuringly before throwing the jumble of lights onto the ground. "Can't we just buy new ones? This is going to take us 'til New Years before we get it working."

Everyone was staring at him strangely and after a few seconds of it, it was making him uncomfortable. The only one not staring was Derek who seemed like he knew something no one else did. "What?"

"Well I hope you got everyone else such meaningful Christmas presents," Sam said offhandedly, still staring at him suspiciously.

Jim fidgeted.

"Don't tell me," Sam said dryly. "You didn't get us anything."

"We haven't exchanged gifts since I was ten!" Jim crossed his arms defensively, cheeks red.

"Really Jim? You got your friend something, but not your family?" Wionna sounded disapproving.

"We haven't exchanged gifts in 12 years," Jim repeated, exaggerating his point. "I didn't know we changed the rules. And he was different."

"Leave the kid alone, Wionna. Christmas isn't about the gifts. It's a gift in itself that he is here with us for the holidays." Derek kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Before Jim could say how corny that line was, the doorbell rang. "Finally!" He was up and out of the room in a blink of an eye.

He signed for the package and ran up the stairs. "I'll be down in two hours!" He called over his shoulder.

Wionna sighed while her husband chuckled. "Still a kid."

"He's only 22. Still a college student. Let him be a kid for a while longer. He'll be active service soon enough," the elder muttered, kissing her again. "Besides, whatever was in that box must have been important. Why else would he be waiting around for it all day?"

Wionna nodded still wondering what could make Jim act like a child after so many years of acting so grown up.

While the game was installing and the helmet calibrating to his biochemistry, Jim thought of what he wanted to say to Spock. He wrote down some things on the scraps of paper from old schematics thrown about his room. He wrote down the reasons he should forgive Spock, and reasons he shouldn't. He wrote the things he wished to say to him that still pissed him off and questions he wanted to ask. There were so many things he wanted to say and do. A part of him wanted to slug the irritating elf while another part just wanted to put it all behind him. Getting his thoughts on paper helped some. The feel of the paper had a calming effect on him even though it was a bit pricey to obtain.

"So who's Spock?"

Jim whirled around in his chair to see his brother standing at the door with one of the aborted plans he had thrown on the floor. Jim frowned.

"Don't look so surprised, Jimmy. You really should have closed out of your messages on the computer before leaving if you didn't want anyone looking at them," Sam smirked.

The younger Kirk couldn't help but blush in embarrassment. "What do you want Sam?"

"Just wanted to ask if this Spock guy was the one you gave Dad's chess set to." Sam sounded too innocent.

"So what if he is?" Jim muttered, crumpling his plans. He would just wing it like he always did.

"Nothing…so he's kind of hot."

Jim's blue eyes became wide at the comment. "Wow Sam…I never knew you were bi. Does your wife know?" He was kidding of course, but there was a bubble of irritation in his chest, and it bothered Jim that he didn't know why.

Sam was quiet for a moment then walked into the room shrugging. "I'm not bi," he said casually not taking the bait and getting offended. "Just stating a fact." He looked at the unfinished projects sitting on the desk. "So what exactly was he apologizing for?"

"Nothing you need to worry about Sam. Don't you have decorating to do or something?" the younger brother grumbled, fiddling with the settings on his new computer. He was encrypting the hell out of it so Sam couldn't get access to its contents or use it. Granted Sam was old enough to know better than to touch his computer without asking, but as they say, old habits die hard.

"Mom let us have a break since you left. She's making cookies." Sam picked up a small model of a cold fusion device that was partially finished. "He didn't seem sincere by the way. This Spock character looked like he could care less. Kind of spoke like a computer too. Seems like an emotionally repressed jackass."

Jim looked up, glaring. Was that really how others saw Spock? "What the hell are you talking about? He looked horrible."

"Why are you defending him? He wronged you right?"

He was fishing for something, Jim realized. "Just drop it Sam."

"Touchy, touchy, Jimmy." Sam taunted, grinning.

"Get out!"

"Alright, alright," he said backing away towards the door. "I was just concerned. I mean, I don't want you to be with a psychopath or anything. Anyway, say hi to your boyfriend for me."

Sam paused at the door and watched his little brother process what he just said. He saw the exact moment when Jim finally got it, his cheeks reddening. "He's not my boyfriend!"

Sam ducked into the hallway just before a wrench hit him, the tool colliding with the wall and leaving a dent in the dry wall. He cursed.

"James Tiberius Kirk!" His mother shouted from somewhere downstairs.

"Sam did it!" he shouted back.

He heard his mother coming up the stairs. Eager to avoid that confrontation, he put on the helmet and moved to the bed, turning on the program.

He heard his mother cursing before his consciousness slipped into the game.

He didn't come, Spock thought, returning to the palace. He had seen Jim enter the game, but Jim did not message him or come see him at the cliffs. He would return tomorrow, but he did not have any hope that Jim would forgive him soon. Still he had been glad to come. I-Chaya was quite upset about not being fed for the past couple days. He had been close to leaving them, and a wild sehlat in town would not end well.

He planned to feed I-Chaya one more time before leaving. He had left Jim's room untouched. After Jim started visiting his home on a daily basis, Spock set up a room for him to use however he wished. Spock had never been in Jim's room out of respect, and Jim never spent much time in it. It made it all the stranger when he kept hearing noises coming from it occasionally, things being knocked down. He had to reign in his curiosity to keep from checking. He knew it wasn't Jim though because he checked to see if the man had logged in and he hadn't.

He opened the front door and paused. Illogically, his mouth felt dry as he took in the sight before him.

Jim sat in a chair he had dragged from the living room to the front of the stairs. He was leaning back, legs slightly spread. He wore the Pre-Surakian armor and a white cloth skirt/loin cloth looking thing that hung low on his hips, and a silver dragon with piercing red eyes was perched on his shoulder, its long tail wrapping around his right bicep.

Jim stared at Spock impassively, and his gaze felt like fire on Spock's skin. He had never been on the receiving end of Jim's anger. Not like this. Spock could see the cold calculations running through those eyes, and he could see the intensity that would make a lesser man crumble. The laid back posture was even more intimidating, making it seem like Spock was not worthy enough to deserve his direct attention yet made him distant at the same time. Despite all this, the lack of outward aggression and emotion, Jim looked primal and dangerous and therefore fitting for the armor he wore.

"Jim," he greeted, keeping his voice as even as possible. He had to keep his emotions in check even if the sight of Jim made his chest feel lighter and instigated a bit of arousal . . . arousal? Spock slammed the door to that emotion for later analysis.

The human didn't move, just assessing him. There had been so much he wanted to say, but now it all seemed inconsequential. There was only one thing he really wanted to know. "I want to know why," he said coldly.

"Why?" Spock repeated, confused.

"Why did you assume I would go after Lady Grayson? Why did you assume I would hurt her?"

Spock looked down, unable to take those cold eyes turned towards him. "When I was younger, many of my peers attacked me. I did not respond to their attempts to provoke an emotional response from me. However, eventually they hypothesized that using my mother and using derogatory comments was the catalyst needed to force a response from me. Often, my father was away from home due to business obligations, leaving my mother and myself alone. A visiting dignitary attempted to eradicate me simply because he believed my existence was an abomination . . . then attempted on my mother's life when he failed. If I had not been there, she would have died."

Spock dared to look up again to see Jim's eyes had softened some. "I feared when you could not find information on me then went directly for my mother's that you also planned to harm her. I worry for her being so far away from my father and I where I cannot protect her."

Jim inhaled slowly, and then let it out, letting his shoulders relax. "You should have trusted me."

"I am now aware. I apologize, Jim."

Jim looked him over one last time to ensure he was being sincere then gave him a lazy smile. "As long as you know you're a jackass, we're good on that front. As for the other . . ."

"Jim?" Spock fought there urge to take an involuntary step back when Jim's expression turned into one of a very pissed off swordsman.

"WHY THE HELL IS MOST OF MY GODDAMN STUFF IS MISSING?!" Jim got out of his seat, presence imposing.

"Most high level equipment and items disappear if a player becomes suspended or banned from the game as punishment for breaking the rules," Spock replied, now understanding why Jim was in such attire. The armor had not been under those conditions so it was most likely the only decent leveled armor available for use.

It apparently was the wrong thing to say because Jim closed the distance on him, seething. "That was two months of my life! I can't get half of that shit back if I tried!"

"As it was because of my own failings, I will have all your belongings returned to you by the end of the week."

"You better," Jim fumed, crossing his arms over his chest agitated.

Spock watched the human. He was standing only a few inches away. He wanted to reach out and touch him. It was such a strong impulse to do so, and he almost gave in, but Jim backed away first.

"This is my dragon by the way," it was an abrupt change of subject, and Spock found he had missed Jim's erratic behavior.

"Since you were unable to create a name for I-Chaya, am I correct in assuming you were unable to name your new pet as well?"

Jim scowled, blushing lightly. "I could name him if I wanted to," he grumbled.

"I believe Istaya would be appropriate," Spock offered.

Jim crossed his arms. "And what does that mean?"

"Wish."

"The pronunciation sounds like it's from your language."

Spock hesitated then nodded.

Jim smirked. "Isn't wishing illogical?"

Spock did not dignify the question with an answer.

"So are there words for emotions too?" Jim inquired. "I mean you could name the dragon something else if you're going to get all sentimental. Like joy, hope, love." He laughed. "Is love even a word in your world anymore?" He shook his head. "I can't even imagine living in a place without emotions. How do people even survi─"

"Ashaya," Spock said softly. "Love. . . and beloved is Ashayam." Jim stood quietly, stunned. The words were fluid of Spock's tongue and somehow meant more in the strange language than in standard. "I have only heard the words used once outside of my education center. "From my father to my mother."

Guilt seeped into Jim's thoughts for teasing Spock about the name. He couldn't help but give the elf a hard time for how he had been treated. How did someone live in a world without talking or showing emotions even to the ones you most cared about? To be human was to love, to hate, to hurt, to dream. It was what kept humans going when there was nothing else. Spock was human, but the customs and how he spoke of his world, sometimes it felt like he really wasn't.

"Istaya is a good name." Jim finally said. The dragon nuzzled its face into Jim's neck in silent agreement.

Jim turned, looking at the chair then the rest of the house. "So . . . I don't really want to start all over, but I don't think starting where we left off is a good idea either. Any suggestions?"

"Perhaps . . . viewing a movie will instill some sense of normalcy?"

Jim went to the view screen, looking through the movies while he heard Spock enter the living area behind him. Spock took the seat on one end of the couch.

Jim choose The Shawshank Redemption over It's a Wonderful Life, namely because Christmas was next week and there was still plenty of time to watch it.

Jim sat on the other side of the couch, keeping more distance than usual between them. Spock did not comment about it however and let the movie start.

Hitting the hour mark of the movie, Jim felt a weight fall onto his shoulder. He jumped a little in surprise. He hadn't notice that he had shifted multiple times during the movies, getting closer to Spock as he did so in his attempt to get comfortable.

Spock's silky black hair tickled his neck, and where their skin touched felt warm and tingled pleasantly. In the back of Jim's mind, he remembered how tired Spock looked in the apology that had been sent to him.

He glanced down at the sleeping face. The elf's face was relaxed and unguarded. Spock really was beautiful.

Video forgotten, he watched Spock sleep, not moving a muscle in fear of waking him. His gaze traveled down to long, pale fingers that rested on the elf's lap. Fingers that never touched him or others, fingers that wouldn't even touch food. He rarely saw Spock's hands now that he thought about it. Spock always had his hands behind his back, below the table in his lap, or wrapped around his bow. They were something forbidden. The one thing Spock did not allow people to make contact with. And with Jim being Jim, he was drawn to things that presented him with a challenge.

He reached out with a tentative hand, brushing it against Spock's. A sharp jolt shot up his arm as Spock let out a soft huff in his sleep. Jim pulled his hand away quickly, the sensation ceasing immediately. He blinked. What was that? Slowly, he replaced his hand on the slightly cooler one, and the sensation returned. It was . . . pleasant. He slid his fingertip down the back of the elf's hand.

A soft moan escaped Spock's lips, startling Jim enough to pull his hand away, his face bright red. Was this how the sexual component of the game worked? It wasn't very well designed. There wasn't that much pleasure in touching another's hand. Then again, he never felt such a strange sensation when touching others in the game. Did the place of contact have to be in a private residence for interactions like that to work?

Jim kept his hands to himself, but he could not keep the sound of Spock's moan from replaying in his head.

Spock awoke in an unusual position. He was lying on the couch lengthwise, head against the armrest, with Jim practically on top of him. They must have both fallen asleep and shifted into this undignified position.

Spock did absolutely nothing about it. There would be no benefits to waking Jim and he was still tired. Logically, it would be best to minimize movement and continue to rest. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift back into sleep.

His last thoughts were of Jim, stroking his hands in his dreams.

"I see you have returned."

Spock glanced away from the microscope to glance at Stonn. It was unfortunate. He had been told Stonn would be away from the labs for a few more hours. He hoped to conclude his findings before then.

Stonn was a tall Vulcan and fairly muscular having trained in the ancient Vulcan arts of fighting. He also had the traditional bowlcut, dark hair and eyes, and expressionless face.

Spock straightened his back, assessing the man who had taken T'Pring. "Indeed. T'Pring is currently in Lab 23."

"I have come to speak to you on her behalf."

Spock raised an eyebrow. He did not ask for the man to elaborate and instead did a very human thing. He turned his back to him and continued his research. Stonn would speak eventually.

"She asks for you to cease shielding the bond. She has said that she is receiving headaches."

"I would prefer to compromise with her. I will cease shielding if she would cease copulating with you. I do not wish to be aware of such activities. They prove to be distracting to my work."

The comment made Stonn shift his posture. "When do you anticipate the pre-marital bond will be broken?"

"Until I find another suitable mate or it's time for the kal-if-fee." Spock scribbled down some notes onto his PADD.

"Do you plan to shield until then?"

Spock put down his stylus and turned his attention to Stonn. "Why do you inquire?"

"T'Pring's health could be affected by poor attentiveness to the bo─"

"The bond is a weak one. She will suffer no side effects from the shielding nor must you concern yourself because of it. I have no intention to challenge you for her." Spock went back to his microscope clearly dismissing him.

Stonn arched and eyebrow, but said nothing more, realizing Spock was not going to budge on the subject. Silently he left, meeting T'Pring in the hallway. "As you suspected, he will not lower the shielding around the bond. Are you certain that there is another bond?"

"He will notice soon enough. A few weeks at most. We can wait to bond for that amount of time," T'Pring glanced through the window into the lab. Spock had always been stubborn even as a child, but the bond will force itself to be known whether Spock subconsciously wants it to or not.

"Merry Christmas!" Jim smiled, passing out gifts to his family as they came in.

Wionna raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Well isn't this a surprise. I thought you'd be upstairs playing that game still," she said with disapproval in her voice.

"Yeah well, it's Christmas so I can stop for a day," he smiled.

Things had been weird the past few days. After waking and finding himself lying on top of Spock, he had quietly left the game and hadn't mentioned it since. Spock's behavior hadn't changed either, so he was pretty sure Spock was unaware that it had happened. He wasn't sure why he was embarrassed. Maybe because Spock was a guy?

His family came to sit around the Christmas tree while he passed out presents. Sam and his wife received some baby supplies along with a new replicator, Derek received some new welding tools and a new bike helmet for the hover bike Jim gave him, and Wionna got a new pair of earrings and a new holos of old ones that had been worn out.

It was nice. When was the last time he had enjoyed Christmas with his family? He himself received a new pair of clothes and a couple of paperback books. Simple gifts but appreciated. Truthfully, and this sounded corny even for him, being with his family was enough.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Sam got off the couch and hurried to the hall closet, pulling out a long narrow box wrapped in reflective red paper. "This was dropped off yesterday. The delivery guy said that it was for Jim."

Surprised, Jim took the box, studying the box and the wrapping. There was a small note attached to it. On the note were familiar swirls running on vertical along the paper obviously hand written. Below was a definition for each symbol.

Karik'es - strength

keimen'es – ferocity

ha'kiv - life

tam'a- will/spirit

puksu-fighter

He smiled, knowing exactly who it was from. Carefully he opened the perfectly wrapped gift then opened the box. Inside was his favorite sword, the blade pitch black, the handle silver, and a new feature with the ancient texts engraved into the blade. There was also a small disk and another note.

As you have given me two gifts, I assumed it was customary to return the favor: one of sentimental value concerning ShiKahr and you, the other sentimental to me. You will be the first to listen to what's on the disk if you choose to listen to it.

Spock

"Jim?" His mother called out.

His head snapped up. "Huh?" He forgot others were in the room all staring at him. He also realized he was grinning ear to ear.

"So whose it from?" she pressed.

"Spock," Jim replied, closing the box. He'd have to get a display case or something for it. He briefly wondered if he could find someone to teach him how to use it. Sulu had always been good with swords . . .

"Who's Spock?"

"Jimmy's boyfriend," Sam intervened grinning.

Jim flushed. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Then why are you blushing?" Sam teased, causing Jim's face to become even more red.

"I'm not blushing! He's a good friend, that's all."

"So where did you meet Spock?" Wionna asked, leaning forward and clearly interested.

"I met him playing ShiKahr. We're just friends." Jim was somewhat sulking now.

"Right, friends. That's why you paced in front of the door waiting for the delivery guy, and why you spent two hours trying to draft him a letter to accept his apology few days ago, and why you gave him Dad's chess set."

"Shut up, Sam!"

"You gave him the chess set?"

Jim groaned, giving up this conversation.

"Wait, then what about the Leonard McCoy guy who called a few days ago?" Derek intervened. "I thought you liked him."

"I do not like Bones! He's my roommate and going to be my CMO if I get selected. What is wrong with you people?!"

"So you actually like this Spock character?" Derek asked.

"Why don't we listen to the tape?" Wionna suggested, somehow getting close enough to take it from Jim when he had been arguing with everyone.

"Are you even listening?" It almost came out as a whine as he watched his mother put in the small disk into the player.

Everyone waited quietly in anticipation. Soft melodious music drifted from the speakers. The sound was obviously from a string instrument, but Jim could not place what instrument. It was a completely unique timbre, crossed between a harp and a sitar. The melody was just as unique as the sound, soft and lulling and completely foreign with odd rhythms and offbeat accents. He could imagine Spock sitting with the instrument, delicate and graceful fingertips plucking the strings, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he played.

"Aww, he made Jim a song," his mother cooed. "That's so romantic."

And that killed the moment. "I told you. We're just friends," he said tiredly.

"Of course you are dear."

And that was how his entire family was now convinced he was dating Spock and deliriously in love.

Jim woke up sweating and panting, hurrying out of his bed into the shower.

Vacation had ended two days ago. After Christmas, his entire family kept asking him questions about Spock. Many he couldn't answer nor wanted to answer. He hadn't been able to meet up with Spock either though they sent occasional messages to one another.

Spock was spending time with his mother before she had to depart for another two years and had to catch up in his work that he had neglected for almost a week, so Jim understood even if he was missing the company, awkward or not.

It had been a pleasant surprise when he received an invite for online chess and was even more pleased when he learned that it was from Spock. A game took about a day to complete, no doubt because Spock could only respond occasionally throughout the day. For a beginner, he was good and rapidly improving. Jim suspected that in a few more games, Spock would be at his level. Jim could not wait for that day and he got pleasure imagining Spock sitting in his room with his father's chess set, practicing and reviewing their online games.

This dream he had last night however threw him off guard. It had started off as a normal dream. Spock and he playing ShiKahr, going on quests and kicking butt as they did so. There was nothing unusual about that. Then the scene changed, to that of the battle royale. Spock in just his tight leather pants and long black hair, bow gripped in his hands. That feral look directed at him. Jim ran, his heart racing, but for a different reason. He wanted to be caught, wanted to rile Spock's primal nature and be the focus of it.

And Spock caught him, forcing him to the ground growling, telling him to submit, and Jim did. Dark eyes raked over his body wearing nothing but the ancient tattoos.

Jim closed his eyes. It had felt so real. Spock's hands on his skin, his hot breath, his rough tongue touching his. The memories went straight to his erection and made a shiver go up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold water. What the hell was wrong with him? Spock was a friend. Sure he enjoyed Spock's company, loved the man's wit and humor, and wanted to entrust all his secrets to him at times . . .

Jim froze with that last thought. Spock was close. He always had been to Jim. Even after the betrayal, Jim forgave him instead of shoving him away and never looking back. Most everything Spock did was endearing to him when it would annoy him when others did the same thing. Was it really just friendship he felt and his family's teasing just helped instigate the dream, or was there more?

A loud and obnoxious alarm yanked him out of his thoughts making Jim curse. He had overslept and was due to meet the admirals in fifteen minutes.

Shutting off the water, he hurried to get dressed into his uniform. Fortunately, Bones was not yet back from Georgia so the loud banging he made in the kitchen when grabbing a quick breakfast didn't wake anyone.

Somehow, Jim made it just in time as an assistant called for his name as soon as he got to the front desk.

Now that Jim had time to think about it on his run there, he did not know why he was being called with a week still left of winter vacation.

He was lead to a small room. A room generally used for hearings, just big enough to fit five admirals at a long table in the front and a single chair in front of them. Shit, what the hell did he do?

"Cadet Kirk, this won't take long," Admiral Barnett said, sitting in the center. Jim spotted Pike on the far right, making him pause. When did Pike become an admiral?

"May I ask why I was brought here sirs?"

Barnett chuckled. "Don't worry, Cadet. I assure you that it is for a very good reason. Admiral Marcus, would you like to do the honors?"

Admiral Marcus stood, smiling down at the young cadet. "As of the conclusion of the exams last semester, you have been selected to become Captain of the USS Enterprise. Yours and Pike's promotion will become official in two months. In that time, you will serve with Admiral Pike on the USS Farragut so you may see officially how a starship is run and receive quick hands on training in an official capacity. Afterwards, you and the crew that you choose will be the first to achieve warp on an official Starfleet vessel."

Jim stood shocked.

"Well, son? Have anything to say?" Marcus asked

"I was told that the official announcement wouldn't be made until the first week of the last semester," he said lamely, still trying to process it all. He was confident in his ability to be chosen, but it was still surreal for it to actually happen.

"The other candidates have already been given the option of continuing on the command track or being sent home. You'll be in charge of giving your new CMO the news. All the information has been sent to your PADD. You'll start your official duties to the USS Farragut one week from today. I trust you will have read up on the material by then," Barnett was smiling as well as Pike.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Kirk saluted.

"Congratulations cadet and good luck." The admirals all stood saluting him before filing out the back door.

He couldn't believe it. He was going to be captain. He was going into space to explore new worlds. See things he never seen before. It was a dream come true. He had to tell Spock.

As he exited the room, he felt a wave of sadness was over him before it as gone. What was that? And why did he think it involved Spock?

Shoving the strange incident aside, he messaged Spock asking him to meet later that night. Jim waited a few minutes and frowned. Spock didn't respond. That was strange.

For the next hour he waited a response, the joy of being selected dwindled as each minute passed. Spock never took so long to answer before. Was something wrong after all?

On a hunch, he checked his friends list in ShiKahr and sure enough Spock as logged in. He thought Spock was supposed to be working all day. Taking off his uniform and getting comfortable, he entered the game the moment he got home.

Spock was sitting on the cliffs, legs draped over the edge, staring blankly at the horizon. He was wearing his ShiKahr robes and had gone back to his traditional haircut. That wasn't a good sign.

"Spock? You okay?" He saw Spock give a little twitch at the sound of his voice not even aware that Jim had shown up until right then. Spock didn't say anything though or even look at him. "Spock?" Jim took a seat beside him, radiating concern now. This was just too weird. "Spock, what happened?"

The elf said nothing for several minutes until he finally said in a tightly controlled voice, "My mother . . . she is dead."

I think the transitions might be off. Sigh. Is it just me or is the quality going down? Or maybe I'm paranoid. Sigh. Kill me now.

You know the drill minions. Review.