Author's Note: I'm honestly a little surprised I got this chapter up today for you all! Don't get me wrong, I'm happy about this update but the past week was stressful, and I'm not sure what this next week will bring in regards to this situation in real life. Please be patient if it's more than a week for the next update. It really was a struggle writing with all that was happening. Seriously, I've pretty much agonized over every word I wrote for this chapter and my concentration hasn't been the best. I depended upon my beta reader, Rubyhair, to find some bigger things that needed edited. :) Thanks to her, this chapter became less confusing. :) Remaining errors are mine.
I know this story has been emotionally charged almost in its entirety since August, so I appreciate you hanging in there with me! This next chapter is pretty heavy with that, too, but - probably the last real intense chapter as far as that goes. I've tried not to let it tip the balance and be too much of a good thing. That sort of thing is always on my mind for this story, but the emotions literally drive each chapter. So with that warning, there is a scene coming up that is big on the hurt (with some comfort, in a way), but you won't know what I mean after you've read the entire chapter.
I think there was another note I wanted to add, but...I can't remember. It's just been one of those weeks. I do hope you enjoy this next chapter - for me, it is a pretty important one for several reasons. Jim finding more of himself, the crew seeing Jim...there's a lot, actually.
Oh, and if you are interested, I do have a 'face' to put with Soona. She's a character I actually wasn't too sure about myself when I began plotting this story. She's grown on me and we're not quite done with her. So, without further ado, if you know who Natalie Portman is, you know what Soona looks like. :)
Thanks so much for reading. If you leave a review, thank you for that, too! I enjoy reading your thoughts, and many times they've given me inspiration. :)
Jim sat up in his bed, disoriented, unshaven and wearing his rumpled clothing from when, he didn't know. It wasn't the first time that time itself eluded him. In fact, ever since Re'an V, his days seemed immeasurable. Before he hadn't minded. Now, it was a heavy burden he no longer wanted, but there wasn't much that he could do about it. He was blind and sometimes it took him a moment to orientate himself with his surroundings. Jim sighed. He had things to do, his ship to care for, his crew to...Jim frowned. Remaining in his bedroom with these persistent, odd thoughts wouldn't do anything to help his situation at all. He scooted off the bed to find Bones and Spock and walked to the door of his bedroom. He leaned his head against the doorframe, still bewildered by his state of mind. What had happened? Why did he have this sudden urge to prowl the Enterprise? Spock took care of her - not Jim. He rubbed his jaw, liking the fact that at least he had hair there, and then...he remembered. The Enterprise. His ship had been returned to him, the knowledge of her now entangled with the Jim Kirk he had become. He smiled to himself. It was the best damn feeling he'd had since leaving Re'an V.
He put one foot in front of the other, still lost in both time and space until the air between Spock and himself sparked with acknowledgement of the other. He saw someone approaching him, and breathed easier knowing his friends were there. Jim couldn't wait to speak with his first officer, but his mind and body refused to rush right along with his good intentions and his blindness forced him to slow down. The precious information he'd received about his ship mesmerized him. Maybe the James T. Kirk who had first stepped onto the Enterprise for the five-year mission would have announced the news that he once again understood the workings of the warp core or the very buttons Uhura utilized as his communications officer. Today, however, Bones took his arm and led him to the table like the disoriented blind man he was, and Jim quietly considered the vast knowledge he'd recently attained. He didn't say anything about it, but he knew they knew, and they were patient friends.
The cup of coffee Bones offered soon warmed his hands but the company warmed his heart and cleared away the rest of his confusion. He was home. He finally felt at ease on this ship - his ship. Jim wondered what he'd say to his friends as a man who'd attained such great knowledge in a matter of hours...until he swore he'd felt worry emanating from his first officer. But, then, the moment broke. Spock reeled the anxiety back so fast and hard that Jim wasn't even certain, then, that Spock was even in the same room after all.
But, Jim had sensed the rare emotion from the Vulcan. His first officer was anxious, and Jim was at a loss of what to do to help Spock, besides becoming captain of the Enterprise and successfully keeping his command. The only way to do that was to undergo this procedure, work with Elise, and come to terms with this new part of himself that would never leave. For now, that was all that mattered, that and working through the onslaught of information he'd received this last session. Now fully comfortable as captain in his captain's quarters, Jim offered Spock the chance to speak first.
"So, Spock," Jim smiled, believing that giving this task over to the commander was the best thing he could do for his friend. "How's our ship?"
Spock answered without hesitation, and the next hour, Jim gave his full attention to Spock as he discussed their ship and crew. He was pleased to learn things were running well and they were making use of this time spent at the Starbase by making minor improvements. Things were even better than he expected for the Enterprise having a displaced captain for well over a month. Although Spock did a respectable job hiding the strain the weeks had placed upon him, Jim was no longer fooled, and he was certain that Spock himself was fooled...even if only a little. Jim knew better because he knew his first officer a hell of a lot better than he ever did before, thanks to his blindness, their bond, and this new sixth sense.
As Spock took care in informing Jim of the Enterprise, the doctor took care of Jim's physical body, working around them both. "These sessions have been intense, Jim, and because of that you're heading towards dehydration," Bones said during a slight lull in conversation and Jim's coffee drinking, pushing a cool glass of water into his hands. "If we let this go, I'll have to send you to sickbay for intravenous fluids. I don't think you want me to do that so drink up, alright? I've contacted Elise. She'll be here soon for another session, by the way."
Jim nodded appreciatively but couldn't pull himself away as he listened to Spock. He barely noticed when Bones administered two hypos, but dutifully drank the electrolyte and vitamin infused water so he could return to his coffee. The remainder of the day would be full and he didn't want another setback with the procedure so soon. It was only late afternoon, and already, Jim had made a mental list of where on his ship he would like to visit if he felt up to the task after the next session with Elise. As the conversation traveled from department to department, the xenozoology lab made the list, not far from the bridge and engineering.
Jim sipped his coffee a little faster than he intended and almost scalded his tongue when Spock told Jim of the remaining Re'an creature on board the Enterprise. He almost couldn't believe they had managed to keep the knowledge of the snakes from him for this long. He couldn't believe they took the creatures on board in the first place, given the precautions they had taken while he remained impressionable to the Re'an culture.
"It wasn't just for research. You did that for Soona, didn't you?" Jim asked, wishing he could read the expression of the Vulcan sitting across from him.
"You are correct, Captain," Spock replied. "It was a logical decision."
"She was left with nothing, but you gave her more time with the last living part of Re'an." Jim leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting them on the table. He wasn't sure Spock knew how much that meant to Soona, as well as Jim. On second thought, maybe he shouldn't have been surprised after all they'd been through. More than ever, he was aware of how Spock fit so well into this picture Jim had of himself and the Enterprise. In fact, it was incomplete without him. He hoped his smile reflected this. He wanted to give back to the friend who'd done so much for him in his recovery. So much had been taken from Jim, various memories of childhood, his teenaged years, years at the Academy, and even some of his time on this ship. The James T. Kirk Spock had known was gone. But this, this was all he had left to offer - assurance that Jim didn't want anything to do with the Enterprise unless his best friends were included. "Thank you, Spock."
"It has given her focus, Captain, and more time than expected as the last creature has not yet perished," Spock explained.
"That one is stronger than it looks," Jim murmured, his gaze dropping to the table as he considered asking if he could see the sacred Re'an snake.
"Dr. Jahnas and Soona both anticipated the creature to die sometime yesterday but Soona spoke with me three point five hours ago. The snake's prognosis remains much the same," Spock said.
Jim jerked his eyes back up, his heart drumming unexpectedly. "Soona hasn't left with her family? I assumed she had."
"She has not, Jim."
"Why? The ship was scheduled to leave, wasn't it?" Jim frowned, a bit confused.
"The ship's captain awaits word from Admiral Archer, who awaits word from you."
"Oh?" Jim cocked his head.
"Soona wishes to speak with you one last time, having heard the sessions with her grandmother proved fruitful. I relayed this information to the Admiral. Given the circumstances, we both feel that it is prudent to give you ample opportunity to speak with Soona before both ships depart."
"I see," Jim said, perhaps with more relief than he intended to reveal. Soona was special to him, and he could not explain why that was that to anyone, let alone himself.
"Captain?"
Jim straightened. "We didn't speak under favorable conditions," he said. The truth was, he barely remembered that meeting and he would like to meet with her again before she left for Earth. There was the dilemma that the creature would affect him, so Jim approached the next subject as carefully as possible. "Since both of our interest lies with the Re'an creature, is it possible that I could visit her in the xenozoology lab?"
"I see no reason why that could not be arranged, Captain," Spock said. "Perhaps tomorrow morning?"
Somewhat surprised that Spock had readily agreed, Jim gave him a small smile. "Thank you."
"Jim, are you sure you can handle that?" Bones asked.
"I can't see the snake and it's encased," Jim replied. He'd forfeit the visit to the lab if it bothered Bones this much, but truthfully, he had no doubts whatsoever. "I understand its scent will most likely affect me but since working with Elise, I don't think it will be anything close to what happened in the past."
"The Re'an are part of you, Jim," Bones said, voice firm. "It will affect you, and we are not sure how at this point. But, I do understand that this is part of the healing process."
That was the very reason he had asked. He had to face his demons. "I know," Jim admitted. "Seeing that creature is important to me, even though the visit may be painful."
"I believe it will be painful, Jim." Bones said. "For more reason than one."
Jim sighed, knowing exactly to what Bones referred. "I don't...I don't hate them, Bones." Jim considered how to even explain his feelings about the Re'an. "I hate what happened and what they did - what Lequa did - but I do recall happy moments and I guess...with this inside my head..."
Jim clamped his mouth shut. He couldn't finish, for fear they'd be repulsed. He was slightly repulsed at himself but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
"You don't have to say another word, Jim," Bones' hand rested comfortably on Jim's shoulder.
The reassuring touch was a bittersweet reminder that the Re'an mission was grossly misrepresented in his mind, with most of those distasteful memories being of his best friend or of Jim's own tragic command decisions. He should be trying to make sense of these new memories filtering into his memory bank, it was logical to do so, but his ship and crew were his first priority. He'd deal with this other confusion for awhile longer. In fact, although he had no concrete reasoning to believe so, he didn't think he could juggle this sudden, vast knowledge of the Enterprise and as well as the mission in one day. He'd been confused for weeks already - what was a few more days?
Jim took a deep breath. "The thing is, Bones, I don't want to have made a decision I will later regret. I also strongly suggest that the Re'an creature be transported back to Starfleet where it can be put in the hands of scientists and taken care of properly. Since we are here at a Starbase and a ship will return to Earth with Soona and her family, it's the perfect opportunity to make those arrangements."
His friends were too quiet. Jim sighed, realizing they must be communicating with their mutually raised brows. He couldn't compete with that, and he thought of a compromise.
"When you two are done wagging your eyebrows at each other, you can consider my suggestion that Elise accompany me." Jim's brow creased. Actually, he didn't have to wait for their affirmation. Elise had warned him of growing pains in the coming days, and Jim did not want to be caught unaware without her. "In fact, I won't go without her."
"Wagging our..." Bones huffed. "I don't wag my brows at anyone but Spock has less of a chance of wagging than I do."
"Indeed, Captain, I cannot agree with your observation," Spock said. "The calculation for my participation in such an act is zero percent."
"You both wag," Jim's eyebrows flew up and down as he continued fighting a grin, "but I'm blind. It's an unfair advantage."
"Unfair advantage or not, I'll agree to both things. I would love to see that damn snake slither its scaly self off this ship," Bones muttered under his breath.
Jim sniggered, relieved that Bones still felt like he could speak his mind around him. "Tell me how you really feel, Bones."
"I shouldn't have said that, Jim, and I'm sorry," Bones said in a low voice. "The mere thought of it makes my skin crawl and brings to mind what happened to our captain, but the creature is important to you. I should respect that."
Jim offered him a reassuring smile. "Bones, I'm not offended at all. I understand. In fact, it's partially my own reasoning for suggesting to remove the creature from the Enterprise."
"Captain, I will arrange for the creature to be transported to Terra. In regards to your visit, it would be prudent to include Elise," Spock said. "I will also arrange for you to meet with Soona in the early morning, given the possibility that your procedure will be scheduled that day, as well."
"Good. That's settled," Jim nodded. "Now, what did you tell the crew of my condition? And, most importantly, how are they, Spock?"
Spock's succinct answers pulled Jim back into a world that had been a mystery to him for weeks. The doctor moved away, and soon Jim gradually grew aware of a new, calming presence in the room. He thought to give Elise a polite welcome but the words died in his mouth. His concentration was fully taken and after the lengthy telepathic healing session, he couldn't shift his focus without great effort.
Do not worry, Captain. I will still be here when you are done speaking with your first officer about your beloved ship.
A smile formed on his lips. His beloved ship. Beloved? He silently toyed with the endearment.
"Captain?" Spock asked.
"Spock. Yes." Jim cleared his throat. "Please, continue."
Spock acquiesced, but Jim's focus had unknowingly already shifted, his mind unable to return to his previous conversation. Elise may have been right - his affection for the Enterprise was growing. He didn't believe it had fully grown but the tender roots settled deeper and the buds formed as he listened. Enraptured by the details of his ship, his heart flipped in a strange way every time his first officer called the Enterprise Jim's ship. Or, your ship. Jim didn't want to call it pride. In fact, he should squelch the feeling because pride cut deep.
But it hurt just as much to stifle it. He was proud of his ship and his crew. He was proud of Spock. He was...He couldn't think that way, and Jim's smile died.
If this paradox was who he'd become, he did not know if he could manage well at all.
"Captain," Spock said softly, that one word revealing that Jim had broadcasted that last thought through their bond.
Jim pushed out his chair and stood. "You've taken good care of her, Spock." He stopped there. Other than the other problem he just acknowledged to himself, and perhaps to Spock and Elise, he felt somewhat stifled in his quarters, especially as Spock had expanded his report on other departments and the visit to the xenozoology lab wasn't until the next day. Maybe this seclusion of sorts was the root of his struggle, but he could fix it. He couldn't see, so the observation deck would be pointless, but he could work with his hands. He could feel with his hands...
"Perhaps engineering after this next session with Elise?" Spock's quiet, unassuming suggestion was perfect. "Or...the bridge?"
"Yes," Jim said, nodding once. The bridge was even better. He rubbed his jaw, not minding the roughness of his chin. Was this hair darker, too? Would his crew even recognize him? Would they be shocked in the changes in their captain? Would it...bother them? Needing his hat - and perhaps a change of clothing and refresher - Jim turned for his bedroom before the internal storm grew and got the better of him. "Bones? Spock? I need a few minutes."
"Take all the time that you need, Jim," Bones said.
Something troubles you, Captain.
Elise, I can't allow it to bother me. The door to his bedroom closed behind him. Jim sank to the edge of his bed, his cane the support he needed as he leaned over, his gaze to the floor. He must make a decision, and it would be utterly painful for both him and his best friends. His knuckles whitened. Very painful.
You must not avoid this growing pain, Captain. It will only hurt more later on if you do so, especially as you walk the corridors of your ship. Of anything that I can teach you, it is that you are no longer merely James T. Kirk, human.
Please, Elise. Jim begged. Don't say it.
Captain, I will never force it, but I must bring this to your attention. You have time - do not rush yourself today. Think of your doctor, who assured you he will accept you for who you are. Consider your first officer, who is half-human and has experienced his own struggle with human emotion.
He thought he should be able to process decision alone, but he didn't want to be alone. He wasn't sure he wanted to be alone ever again, not with the Re'an tied to him forever.
He's coming, Captain.
Who?
Captain? I've told him what to do as I help you work through this.
Jim's door opened. It didn't surprise him. They cared for him as their friend, and they were watching out for their captain. The newcomer's hand soon placed a hand on his shoulder. Jim bit his lip as Spock offered acceptance through the link. A different source sent happiness and satisfaction and then responsibility. It was Elise, those feelings now continuous, fulfilling murmurs through his mind while Spock stood still and silent. Jim wasn't aware of the time passing, only of the instant that his tumultuous emotions stopped churning, leaving him breathless and vulnerable to the purer ones from Elise. Finally feeling capable of speaking, Jim breathed out the very words he pleaded her not to say.
"I no longer identify myself as fully human, Spock." Although Jim's words were hardly audible in his own ears, he knew the Vulcan had heard them loud and clear. "I no longer identify myself as fully human, and I cannot be prideful about this ship. Our ship."
Happiness flooded his heart.
"It's not right for a Re'an to be prideful as I had...as I think I've felt before," Jim whispered.
Satisfaction. Responsibility. The feelings continued to pour but then a new one entered...love.
"Does it bother you, Spock? What I've become? What I can't help but become?" Jim opened his eyes. He wanted Spock to understand. He wanted Bones to understand. Jim could not ignore it, not when it was staring him right in the face and daring him to deny the truth. "I can't push aside what's natural to me."
"Jim, we do not ask you to push this aside," Spock said quietly.
"You can't get rid of it." Jim blinked. "Do you really know what this means, Spock?"
Did he?
"Yes, we know, Jim," Spock said.
"It will not leave," Jim gave a short dry, laugh. He wasn't pushing for affirmation. No, this was giving them one more chance to back out. One more, while he had the courage to vocalize it. "And I can't...I can't leave it alone. To have any chance of commanding my ship, I must continue to face this part of me that will affect more aspects of my life than I...than we...realize..."
"We are fully aware of the intricacies of the Re'an barriers, Jim," Spock said, his voice firm. Jim's eyes snapped upward. "Therefore, Captain, you must no longer question our loyalty as Elise continues the healing process. You will not offer the doctor or myself any opportunity to withdraw our devotion from you as you adjust."
Jim froze as he finally understood Spock's adamancy.
Listen, Captain. Heed your commander's words.
Elise was right. Spock was right. Jim shouldn't question them. He did know better. He -
Happiness.
Jim closed his eyes, Elise's healing like tender fingers caressing his mind and creeping into its hurting places. Little by little, warm emotions began to pulse through him like waves, infiltrating the Re'an parts, overlapping or forcing them to budge. Spock stood still, allowing Jim the physical touch that he'd craved. Soon, he felt the brush of Bones' shoulder as he sat beside him and the insatiable ache to be the same friend to them that he'd been before. Things had changed, never to be the same, but Jim couldn't wallow in the past. He owed it to his best friends to move forward.
"I have to continue to embrace the Re'an part of me - or I can't move on, Bones," Jim whispered, vocalizing the bitter truth to Bones.
"It's gonna be okay, Jim," Bones said gently. "We're not going to let you face this alone. Remember? We knew going into this that it would not be easy but we're here...through it all, pal."
They wouldn't give him the luxury of being alone. Although Jim hated to put them through the pain of seeing him so vulnerable and helpless to the changes, he knew with certainty that he'd never get through this or any other so-called growing pain without them.
When you are honest and vulnerable with them, you're being honest with yourself and it will help as you adjust to your Re'an tendencies, bringing them to surface as they must be at some point.
Elise, how many are there? Jim's chest tightened, but Elise was there before the pain overwhelmed him.
The growing pains are numerous and they can happen at any time. Perhaps later today or tomorrow or even weeks from now, but, Jim, you cannot fear them. You must welcome them. Suppressing the tendencies will only delay your healing and increase the difficulty as you adjust. These growing pains are challenging, but we will not abandon you.
She continued to work and soon, Jim's mind was brought again to a peaceful place. He remained there, basking in the contentment she offered. He was drawn to Elise's healing and once that process began, he was becoming more comfortable and grounded in himself. He imagined that she now knew every bit of his Re'an and human mind, and not being repulsed, she stayed, repeatedly taking his pain, fear, and shame upon herself. He could trust her, and so he did.
Let them help you, Jim, and in turn, you all will see. Your pride from before was not based upon selfishness. You have already been put through a fire and tested, beginning the very second you entered the warp core. You've grown into your command, and your friends realize this as does your crew. Your underlying feelings are pure and acceptable to the ideal the Re'an followed for thousands of years, up until their downfall. You have already been stripped of that selfishness with which you equate pride. And now? What do you see...
He thought saw something different but he wasn't sure, so he waited as Elise worked more. Finally, it was there right in front of him. He was blind but he couldn't miss it. Although he could not call it pride, this feeling was something new altogether and it had grown into something beautiful.
Many feelings, Elise. And they're clear...broadly reaching...because of the Re'an...
Yes, Captain! Your feelings are even purer than they were before. They have been refined. This trial you've faced has not been in vain.
He wasn't sure he whole-heartedly believed that, but...something was different. What he thought was pride was not. It was happiness that he was with his family. It was satisfaction for the way his crew handled themselves in his absence. It was happiness that his skilled crew endured and his two best friends faithfully stood beside him through it all. It was satisfaction that he'd been given the Enterprise to command, following in his father's footsteps but ultimately of his own desire. This was love for his family and the desire to protect them, which he'd do at the expense of himself over and over. He had a responsibility to know his ship and crew, and it wasn't against the new part of himself which refused to uncurl its fingers and loosen its hold on his life. He could allow himself to feel these emotions about his ship and family. He couldn't call it pride or allow himself to to feel pride because of the Re'an, but losing that human emotion didn't matter to Jim. Not anymore. With help from Elise, the word was managed quickly, not removed from his vocabulary but catalogued elsewhere - and relief settled within his chest that it would no longer bother him.
Then because he could not walk away from his beloved ship or crew, Jim reconciled the Re'an with the human - and embraced them equally.
Jim's hand reached for the control panel of the turbolift, his hand sliding down to find the appropriate button and the doors closed as soon as they opened.
"Ya alright, there, captain?" McCoy murmured, hand hovering beside his arm. With great control, Spock also refrained from touching the captain's arm.
Jim nodded, his mouth pressed into a determined line. "I'm fine," he said. McCoy frowned and glanced at Spock and back at Jim.
"We just got here and then you closed the doors again," McCoy said evenly. "That's not fine."
"I'm...focused."
McCoy glanced at Spock, frowning. Spock arched a brow. The captain was not 'focused,' Spock decided. Jim was troubled for a second time in two hours and thirty-two minutes, and the doctor showed signs of anxiety. Perhaps it would be in Jim's best interest to postpone the outing to the bridge. The last session with Elise, although successful, provided Jim with a new level of comfort as a Re'an and human, but its intensity had affected all of them. Spock let down his shields to allow Elise to question him. He explained, and she informed him that they must wait for Jim. It was another growing pain, and their captain needed them to be as patient with him as they possibly could, despite the difficulty.
"If it's because you're missing your good hat again...blame Christine," McCoy said in an obvious attempt to distract Jim.
Jim frowned. "Christine?"
"I was not aware that that Nurse Chapel was to blame for Jim's missing hat," Spock said.
"I swear she has a hat fetish now because of you, Jim," McCoy complained. "It's your fault, Jim, if I have to deal with this."
Jim rolled his eyes. "She doesn't have a hat fetish. She tried it on once, and then - "
"Borrowed her captain's hat? Stole it?"
"Bones," Jim said with a short laugh. "I gave it to her as a thank you for the extra work she's put in, cooking food that tastes better to me."
"That was your favorite hat, Jim," McCoy said slowly, a strange look in his eyes as he stared at Jim.
"I know. It was." Jim shrugged. "But she liked it, and I have this one - and food I actually enjoy tasting."
"I shall ask Lieutenant Uhura to knit you a replacement," Spock offered.
Jim shook his head. "It's fine, Spock. I really don't need them now, although I like them. I'm not cold anymore and I have...what did you call it, Bones?"
"Fuzz, Jim," McCoy drawled. "Pure soft, chick fuzz."
"Right. Fuzz." Jim's lips twitched. "It's not much but it's there, although Soona was quite opinionated about it."
"Her reaction was unique," McCoy agreed.
"Sonja is unique," Elise said softly.
Jim spun around so abruptly that both Spock and McCoy gripped his arms to steady him. "Her name is...is...not Soona?"
"Sonja is Soona's given name," Elise replied.
"Her name," Jim said, his expression quizzical. "It's so close to the Re'an form...but...which does she prefer?"
Concerned for the captain and the almost lost way he questioned Elise about Soona's preferences, Spock lowered his shields again exchanged a glance with Elise. She smiled softly.
He is worried that she will lose her Re'an identity completely, and he will be the only one, Elise explained. It is a natural reaction from him, but I will ease his fear. However, Commander, there lies a more important reason behind his question: he cannot call her by anything else than her Re'an name. It is impossible; it is a result of the barrier.
That is...disconcerting, but Spock settled on a different word...fascinating.
"Do not worry, Captain. Sonja prefers Soona." Elise regarded Jim kindly. "Except for when I address her."
"But it's her name..." Jim frowned.
"Let me assure you, Captain, when you meet with her tomorrow, Soona will be perfectly acceptable," Elise affirmed.
"Soona, then," Jim murmured. He reached his hand to the control panel but hesitated for a second time.
"Captain?" Spock asked, noting that at the exact moment Elise closed her eyes, Jim sighed and his arm dropped to his side.
"What's wrong, Jim?" McCoy said quietly.
"Maybe nothing, but," Jim drew a labored breath, "I think feel like I did the first time I took the Kobayashi Maru."
The admittance confused Spock but only until the doctor began to help clarify the captain's statement.
"This isn't about no-win scenarios, Jim," McCoy said. "It's about enduring in any situation."
"Then, did I give in too easily?" Jim asked.
"You had no damn choice in the matter, Jim," McCoy said, the lines around his mouth tightening.
"Had I known..." Jim clamped his mouth shut, an uneasiness swiftly settling in his eyes.
McCoy's expression cracked, hinting at an emotion Spock had seen all too often since the Re'an mission - sadness - and the doctor's words threatened his own control. "Had you known this would have happened to you anyway, you would have relented sooner?"
Jim's eyes seemed to search for the friend behind the thickly spoken words and the friend's characteristic empathy, but Jim's gaze landed right at McCoy's chin and then McCoy's hand dropped from Jim's arm. The two humans were, Spock decided, slightly detached from one another. Spock could not fathom their misconceived ill-fated friendship coming true - and he again let down his shields to speak with Elise in silent supplication.
They must do this, she told him silently. They must work a little harder right now, but I am protecting them, both of them, Mr. Spock.
"Maybe." Jim's whispered word pleaded as much as a million would have, but it made no difference: the doctor wanted a different answer.
"They were beyond saving, Jim, even at that time," McCoy said, eyes piercing the Captain.
Jim swallowed. His expression clearly revealed his desire to be understood as a Re'an. "Bones, you know as well as I do that I can't not think back on this from all angles."
"You need to listen to your logs, Jim," McCoy said quietly. "And ours."
Jim shook his head.
"I know this is important, but we should postpone this visit, allow you to rest and review the mission correctly." McCoy said slowly. "Jim, maybe just the first two or three days of your logs. It would be enough to begin giving you the bigger picture."
"That can wait. I...this new knowledge...I mean...old knowledge...of the Enterprise is...it's overwhelming, Bones. I need to see her." Jim seemed to scrape the words out of his throat.
Spock, wanting to ease the tension growing between the two men, depended upon Vulcan logic to end it. "Captain, if you had conceded to such telepathic actions as soon as you realized a meld was necessary for the Re'an, the likelihood you would have learned of Soona's predicament before that meld is one point two percent."
Jim took a sharp breath, wavering on his feet. McCoy grasped Jim's elbow for a split second. "Steady, Jim," he murmured.
"You would not have been able to save her as the Re'an beings degraded, Captain," Spock continued.
All were silent, waiting. Jim cocked his head, his face now a calm mask.
"It was the logical choice with the best outcome," Spock said, for no one's benefit. It was illogical to even bother making that statement to Soona's grandmother, the man who cared for Soona perhaps as a brother would, and said man's doctor.
"You're right," Jim finally said.
Elise opened her eyes. Spock had no doubt that the conversation could have become quite different - and darker - without her presence. If her presence was this necessary for a simple excursion to the bridge, for Jim to continue his path towards healing and reconciling the Re'an with the human, Spock could not see the Betazoid healer anywhere else but on the Enterprise - indefinitely.
Then, as if the conversation never occurred, McCoy reached for Jim before his hand ever found the control panel.
"Don't doubt what you've done, Jim. Promise me," the doctor hoarsely whispered in the Captain's ear. "Don't ever doubt your decisions on Re'an V. You're here with us, and I'm not letting you forget that."
Jim blinked his eyes, water seeping from their corners as the doors opened.
Perhaps his captain must suppress any self-centered emotion; but, Spock, despite his Vulcan heritage, experienced a semblance of pride on behalf of his captain. The bridge crew handled themselves exactly how they had been instructed - without pomp and circumstance as their captain appeared. A few senior command crew members were present, but it was a mix of others who also pledged their loyalty a long time ago to a man who'd already given his life for theirs.
"Keptin on the bridge," Chekov called, as was permissible.
"Chekov," Jim said, his smile, though tenuous, became a beacon of light in the room.
Every face turned as the captain made his way to the center with Spock's assistance. McCoy remained near-by, having escorted Elise to the right of the captain's chair. Jim did not immediately venture over to the chair, but decisively stood with his eyes closed and head tipped back. He breathed deeply, and it was several quiet moments before Jim spoke again. The bridge crew bent to their tasks, occasionally a head or pair of eyes turning to watch the captain. Spock surmised that it was surreal for them, for none of them ever expected their blind captain to be standing on the bridge looking at ease. Surreal, but acceptable and welcomed.
"Spock, I realize I am not fit for duty, but do you mind if I sit for a few minutes?" Jim's smile widened.
"He thought you'd never ask, Jim," McCoy drawled.
"The chair is yours, Captain." Spock warmed at the thought and could not help Jim to the chair quickly enough. He offered a hand, having previously found that aiding Jim in such a fashion into an unfamiliar chair did away with the captain's fears that he would miss the chair and land on his backside.
"Thank you, Commander," Jim said, nodding. Spock let go and the captain tilted his head once more, eyes closed as before and ears, Spock assumed, attuned to the business of the bridge around him.
Or, simply listening to the murmurs of his beloved ship as she welcomed him back in a private chorus for one.
It did not take long, as McCoy had anticipated. Jim's head dropped within twenty-five minutes of stepping foot on the bridge, and ten minutes in the chair.
"Jim," McCoy whispered, bending slightly to nudge his best friend awake and allow his head to rest against his arm instead of remaining painfully crooked.
Jim's eyes fluttered open. "Bones?"
"Captain, you'll be snoring on the bridge all night if you're not careful." McCoy curled his fingers around Jim's arm.
Jim kneaded his forehead. "Shit, Bones. I didn't mean..." He sighed. "So much for being discrete."
"If you were going for discrete, sitting in the captain's chair and then proceeding to fall asleep is not the way to do it," McCoy said dryly.
Jim leaned his head back lazily, his baby blues peering in Bones' direction. "Maybe I'll just stay here, then, since the damage is done, away from my pushy doctor and lull them all to sleep with my delicate snoring."
A chuckle escaped from the communications chair.
"I heard that, Uhura," Jim tossed over his shoulder.
"Come on, Captain," McCoy drawled, determined to draw a blush out of Jim after all this work they'd gone to getting him here. "Wave good-bye to your minions."
Jim rolled his eyes, but the blush that McCoy expected crept up his neck. Jim stood to his feet with more energy than Bones thought he had in his reserves, and surprising the doctor once again, Jim spoke to each one of the crew before he left, practically pulling Spock along with him.
"I did not expect that," McCoy said, struck by Jim's devotion to his crew so soon after three sessions with Elise.
"No?" Elise replied, a soft smile on her lips. Elise's eyes followed the captain. "It seems like something he would do."
McCoy paused. "It's going to take me awhile -"
"No," Elise shook her head. "It's not. You knew him before, and you know him now. Things may surprise you every day about your friend, but it's not going to take you awhile to get to know him, doctor. You already know Jim Kirk. It is why he trusts you."
"Is he going to forget what the other me did to him?" McCoy asked her.
"Does it truly matter?" Elise asked simply, but McCoy understood. Jim would never forget.
"You're right," McCoy watched Jim with fondness, but his heart filled with grief. "It doesn't matter."
McCoy knew Jim Kirk, as Elise said. And if he had Jim's trust, he had everything he needed to make sure his best friend was okay.
"Twenty minutes, Bones," Jim called out before he sighed, sinking as deeply and comfortably as he could onto his couch. Elise lingered in his quarters, and Bones had told him why, but at the moment, he couldn't remember. "Uhura said twenty minutes."
"Ya nervous? Because that was over ten minutes ago. You'll be talking to your mom very soon, pal," Bones said. "Here's your water, Jim."
Bones pressed the cool glass into Jim's hands but Jim found he could barely hold on after he took a sip. "Maybe set in on the table," he mumbled, head on one of his pillows.
"Maybe we should postpone this." The doctor's hand brushed Jim's hair - his fuzzy, very short, very dark hair.
"Maybe not," Jim argued, pushing himself up. He was captain - he could do this. "You're going first, 'member?"
"I do," Bones took a seat beside Jim. Thinking only how he remembered Bones being a plush pillow, Jim closed his eyes and tested his memory. It wasn't a hundred percent correct but he appreciated the arm that came around him, despite the long-suffering sigh escaping the doctor's lips. "You're going to bed. We'll do this tomorrow."
"Talk to mom," Jim mumbled. "Can't."
"It may not work out tonight, Buddy," Bones said softly.
Someone was moving Jim, urging him to walk, and the next time he pried his eyes open he was sitting on his bed. The doctor pulled the shirt over Jim's head and guided a softer, looser one back over. Hands tugged on his feet, removing his shoes. Jim rubbed his eyes, wondering how the hell he could stay awake for this important comm without requesting a shot of adrenaline, which was more tempting than he'd like to admit.
"It may not work out tonight, but tomorrow I promise."
"She needs to hear from me," Jim mumbled, hunching over on purpose. If he leaned back, the afternoon...evening? Whatever it was, it would be lost. He'd lost enough things. Time wasn't what he wanted to lose tonight.
"If you're this determined," Bones sighed, "I'll see if Elise can help out, to at least get you coherent, alright?"
Jim's brow furrowed. "'Lise? She can talk to Mom? Mom would like her, think."
"No, she can help you be more alert." Bones paused. "I hope. I'll be back, Jim, I promise."
"You keep prom'ses," Jim agreed. He rubbed his face, willing his body to cooperate. How'd he get this tired? It wasn't natural, was it?
"You've overexerted yourself. You've had two telepathic sessions in twenty four hours, Jim. This is normal."
He needed coffee.
"No."
But, coffee.
"It's two hours shy of your bedtime, ya moron. Absolutely not," Bones retorted on his way out of Jim's bedroom.
He returned just as Jim's body betrayed him and his head hit the pillow.
"Nope, you're not doing that." Bones pulled him back up. "Look at me, Jim."
Jim peeled his eyes open. "Yeah."
"Your mom? I just talked with her."
Jim frowned, blinking the sleep away, and realized that Bones had placed a PADD in his hands. His eyes widened with the weight of it in his hands. "My mom."
"Yes, and she'll be able to see you, if that's okay?"
Jim's heart stopped. He'd forgotten that she could see him. He wasn't sure he wanted her to see him like this. It wasn't for selfish purposes he wanted a mere comm, but since their relationship had healed, he wasn't about to assume that watching her blind son on screen would be of any comfort.
"It'll help her, Jim, and I know that's what you want," Bones said gently.
Jim shook his head. "It'll upset her."
"I think she'll be fine, Jim," Bones said. "Because she knows you're moving forward. She needs something, Jim, especially after hearing the truth about your condition."
"If you think so.." Jim hesitated.
"I do," Bones softly said. "How about you sit back against the bed and I'll set this up on the tray Christine just brought from sickbay."
Jim nodded, and in less than a minute he was holding his breath as his mother watched him through the screen.
"Mom," he managed, swallowing any awkward words he could add.
"Hey, baby," she whispered, only a slight trace of tears in her voice. It helped Jim knowing she cared but was somewhat in control of herself and he took a deep breath, willing himself to stay strong for her, too. "Look at you. Got yourself in another mess."
He smiled crookedly. "It's what I do best, so I've been told, and I'm not quite sure what to think about that."
"It's good thing, Jim," his mom answered. "You've...you've always had this strength in you, this desire to make things right for people who need...who...Jim, I'm...I'm..."
She softly cried, her breath catching after a moment. Jim clutched the blanket beneath him, feeling useless as he sat in a bed, blind, and his mother, who never cried, cried for him on her own ship.
She breathed in shakily. "I want to say I'm proud of you, baby, but I know..."
"Mom?"
"I heard what is appropriate or not, in this case..." She stopped, leaving her words hanging as a question.
Jim closed his eyes, nodding. Now he understood. Although didn't want to hear those words that she longed to say, it was more important to help his mother heal, too. "It's alright. That rule's just for me," he said lightly.
But when she told him, I'm proud of you, something within him cracked, and he clung to his mother's accolade. The pathetic irony of the situation was not lost on Jim. Just when he heard the words from his mother for the first time, his life had taken a distinct turn and wouldn't allow him the luxury to enjoy them. He could no longer feel the depth behind those particular words and that was a cruel, hard fact. His brain just wouldn't compute it.
He didn't want anyone to know that he clung to those words as he pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly with his arms, like that child he'd been before Tarsus. He'd been a child who had wanted his mother's attention and did everything right that he possibly could do to get it. He'd been so proud, but when he learned that he'd failed to accomplish the very thing he'd set out to do, he felt worse for having tried to get the attention in the first place. In the end, he'd only felt relief when she left him alone in his misery.
The paradox from a few hours earlier came to mind and he latched his arms around his legs even tighter. He'd do this for her, even though it hurt, but then, she shocked him. She went further and said the three words that were just as rare- I love you. He didn't have to think twice. It mended his heart a little - or maybe a lot - and he said them in return to his mother. He meant them, and he put his heart into each one of those three words.
"I know this surgery is going to help you," she said after a silent moment elapsed. They were getting back on their feet again. Emotions tripped up both of them, he knew. He wiped his eyes and nodded in agreement. "If you ever need anything, Jimmy, I can be there. I will drop everything."
"I know," he said quietly, knowing, shockingly, that Winona Kirk absolutely meant what she said. Dropping everything meant abandoning her assignment, but as a long-time friend of Admiral Archer, Jim figured she'd manage to do it if he'd asked. He was tempted. He was a lot of work for his best friends. He'd been a lot of work for them, and now for Elise, and it would be helpful for them all to share the load with one more person.
As tempting as it was, Jim couldn't bring her into this, not really. It did help, though, to sense her sincerity. That he wouldn't have believed this of her a few months back wasn't important. Jim wasn't the only one who'd experienced a significant change, and he knew that he'd be talking to her again sooner than later.
"I'm behind you, and I know that your family there is faithfully behind you, too," she told him.
Jim widened his eyes as she easily acknowledged that his crew was, in fact, his family.
"I don't think I ever heard or saw your doctor so...doting," she said, and Jim was certain he heard her smile.
Jim laughed, and it was on that high note they ended their short conversation. Bones, who'd been there the entire time, sitting in a chair beside Jim's bed, took the device and tray and put them away.
"Doting, huh?" Jim couldn't help but smirk.
"If you as so much tell a single soul that your mother said that, I'll make you eat those green vegetables you like so much."
Jim scoffed. "That's nothin'." He slid down under his covers undeterred by Bones' threat.
"Every day. At breakfast."
Jim groaned. "You're so cruel."
"I have to keep my image, you know. So make that for lunch, too. With a side of hypos."
"Fine, fine, I won't say a word, Bones." Jim lifted his head off his pillow and stared at Bones' gray form, amused. "I'm not one to start a rumor."
"You sure about that?" Bones' voice faded.
"No, really. I'm not," Jim mumbled, replying a little later than he intended and into the quietness of his room. When no answer came, Jim sighed into his pillow, thinking Bones had left him alone for the night. If he were to be honest with himself, he really whimpered instead of sighed. Just a little bit. He missed Bones - and Spock - but he didn't think he was up to talking. How could he be after that conversation with his mother?
A body sunk to a seat at the foot of the bed. Jim stiffened.
"It's just me," Bones said. "I was in the other room, saying goodbye to Elise. Jim, I'd like to talk with you about tomorrow before you drift off to dreamland. I'm meeting with Dr. Sheffield later tonight about the procedure. He arrived shortly after we left the bridge and believes he should be ready for you mid-morning after you visit the xenozoology lab."
Jim turned his head, staring at the ceiling. He tapped his fingers on his chest. It was really going to happen. A chance. His chance. "How long?"
"You'll be out for ten hours. Recovery is a week. You'll have some swelling, be pretty much bandaged up around your eyes, and..." Bones sighed. "You'll have to be off your feet for a little while."
Jim frowned. That was just great. Just when he wanted to explore. He'd pathetically only made it to the bridge, only to fall asleep. "Off my feet? For how long?"
"Four days. The first day will be pretty rough, Jim, I won't lie, and I'll give you as much pain medication as I can."
Jim huffed a sigh. "I'm not going to be stuck in sickbay all that time, am I?"
"What? Tired of me?"
Jim made a noncommittal sound. "Never."
"Your couch, I promise," Bones said. "Or your bed, at least for day three and four."
"I'll hold you to that."
"I know it seems like I'm clipping your wings again, and...frankly, I guess I am. The good news is that you may see some changes as soon as two weeks," Bones went on. "And, this is the best part, I already have Nurse Chapel on rotation for bringing you food this first week including my mama's pie, baked by Christine."
Mrs. McCoy's pie? Jim's mouth watered. "I think I love you."
Bones chuckled. "I guess I better let you eat the entire thing yourself after that proclamation of love."
"You don't let me stuff my face with crust and berries and sugar and whipped cream...I'll take back everything I said, and then some," Jim threatened with the only thing he had - an abundance of friendship and brotherly affection, not that he'd make good on any of those threats.
"You're going to be alright tonight?" Bones asked, with an obvious show of nonchalance.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Jim's heart pounded. Damn Bones and his sixth sense.
Without a word, Bones did what Jim had half-expected but mostly feared. Before Jim could protest, the doctor was sitting beside Jim, hand brushing his head in a slow, hypnotic motion. It was like a carrot, leading Jim around to answer Bones' questions. He couldn't resist, he was half-asleep, really, but at least he had a Southern doctor's sympathies.
"It hurt," Jim squeezed out the words before his emotions got the best of him.
"I know it did," Bones replied.
"Bones, my mom..." Jim whispered, not bothering to wipe away the one traitorous tear that had slipped out. Hadn't he been through enough of this crying?
"I know, Jim," Bones' voice softened. "It's been the drugs and this telepathic stuff, Jim, that's made you a little more emotional. It'll stop, soon. I promise."
"You're not leaving, are you, Bones?" He didn't care if he did sound pathetic and needy. He wasn't going to be able to fall sleep if he was alone.
"Captain, I wouldn't dream of it."
McCoy postponed his meeting with Sheffield. He'd found that he couldn't quite leave his captain's side. Not yet.
It was time. Time to tell Jim. It would hurt, but he had to do it.
"I have to tell you something, buddy. It's pretty important. I've grown attached to this new you, Jim, how could I not, but..." McCoy said, his voice cracking. The man sleeping beside him had no idea what the differences were between his two selves, but McCoy could name them one by one. "...I miss you."
McCoy held back his tears with great effort and sighed, listening to Jim's deep, even breathing.
"I miss you," he repeated quietly.
He rubbed his friend's head, feeling the soft, newly grown hair that was giving Jim a little more confidence.
"I miss the old you, but it won't stop me from moving forward right along with the new you," he whispered in the silence. "You're our captain, and you're going to get your sight back. I won't settle for anything less, Jim, because you belong here. I see that what's different about you will only help you command this ship..."
He sat in the darkness, his heart breaking and his wounds still altogether too fresh from this painful change. If there was one way to begin his own healing, this was it.
"The thing is, Jim, I miss you," McCoy said, a few tears finally escaping, "but I have to move on, too, just like you already are. It's hard, Jim, damn hard. Quite frankly, I'm a little slow at it and not doing as well as you might think. Spock's hurting, too, though he won't admit it...and you're brave and strong, but..."
He stopped, gathering a little resolve as he remembered every little thing the new Jim did to make his friends smile, laugh, or groan - or show that he still was their captain, James T. Kirk. McCoy's hand stilled on Jim's forehead. Without even knowing it, Jim was helping all of them move forward with his strength and charisma. It was what Jim did, and it shouldn't surprise anyone, let alone his best friend.
"What I'm trying to say, Jim, is this. I'm beside you all the way and nothing, not even this, is ever going to change that. I'm saying good-bye, Jim...good-" McCoy choked down a sob.
He lifted a trembling hand to his face, wiping at his tears. Reminding himself that this was for the both of them, he pulled himself together and glanced down at his best friend. Jim looked peaceful and even younger in his sleep. It reflected Jim's simple trust when he'd asked for McCoy to stay and stirred the fondness that had grown and matured since the first day they met. This may be good-bye to someone he loved, his brother, but it was the welcoming of a man he loved just as much.
McCoy took a ragged breath. "It's a good-bye, Jim, a good-bye...to the old you...but I know that we've gained someone special in place of him - and I'm never letting go."